“The same way you get out,” Devi replied. “I found light, a fissure, an opening. The dark equinox left me half dead and with half my soul. It brought me out into a geographical place called Karmadon, the divide that split my life into before and after. It was as if you had climbed out to Normandie Avenue and saw Josephine on the sidewalk.”
“How many years has it been?”
“Twenty-four. Twenty since the cave. I go back every other year. I’m still waiting for the ice to melt so I can bury him. The geologists say any time now. They’ve been saying it for two decades.”
“Oh, Devi.”
“He was engaged to be married, like you. His soon-to-be wife married another. She has three grown children now.”
“So—not quite like me. What was his name?”
“S-s-s-s-samang. Sam. It means lucky in my language. Lucky in life.”
Julian was afraid to touch Devi, afraid the stony man would fly apart like glass in a car crash. Julian’s body bowed forward as it always did when it remembered car crashes and all lost things. He listed sideways, toward the Vietnamese man.
“What does your name mean?”
“Devi? It means angel.”
“Not devil?” Julian almost smiled. “And Prak?”
“Silver.”
“Aha. So you’re the Silver Angel.”
“I can’t help what my parents called me. Just like Sam couldn’t help what I called him.”
“It’s not his fault he wasn’t lucky.” Julian put his arm around Devi, comforting him. “It’s not your fault either.”
“Whose fault is it?”
“Nobody’s. It’s nobody’s fault.”
“And finally at the eleventh hour, we’re getting somewhere, ladies and gentlemen.” Devi did not move away from Julian’s arm.
“Devi,” Julian said, “I’m really sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Devi said. “Do you know when I realized you might show me something I’ve never seen? Long ago, when you told me you were a boxer. Rather, when you told me that a boxer was all you ever wanted to be. Do you know why? Because to be a good boxer, you must train harder than at anything else. You must have discipline over yourself as over nothing else. You must be an ascetic, a monk. You must know how to break your own will. Coordination, limited rest, masochism, superhuman endurance. You must first become grit before you can build your body up from nothing to be a silent killing machine—and the only thing that can direct that is your soul. That’s how I knew. You are brave and strong, Julian. You have the perseverance of the saints. You have kept your faith even when you were greatly afflicted. In many ways, you have surprised me over the years. Don’t ever be sorry. My friendship with you has been the best of my life.”
* * *
On September 22, a reluctant Devi nonetheless accompanied Julian to the Greenwich Observatory.
Julian brought nothing with him except his old multi-tool, a few slivers of her crystal and his headlamp.
They left in plenty of time for noon. They walked slow, because they had time.
“Yesterday was a good day,” Julian said.
“Yes, it wasn’t a bad day for a last day.”
“Right. There was church, a stroll through a legendary city, a dinner, some drink, a conversation, even a few laughs.”
“Very few,” said Devi.
Julian laughed.
“Now a few more.” Devi smiled.
They walked on.
“Do you know what’s inexplicable?” Julian said. “I never did find that café with the golden awning. I had been so sure I would. I’m beginning to think it was never here. Who knows, maybe I did just dream it.” He shrugged away his disappointment. “I’ve walked through London as one walks through the desert. I’ve lifted every grain of sand. I’ve lived through centuries of fruitless searching. It must have been a mirage.”
“Not fruitless.”
“But where is it?” They were in the Royal Park, in the gallery under the trees. It was eleven, another hour to go.
It was a while before Devi answered. “It’s still out there somewhere.”
“That means she’s still out there somewhere.”
“You know she is. Where are you headed to, if not her?”
They continued their slow walk under the canopied trees. Julian wasn’t used to Greenwich being warm like this. The equinox in March was always so rainy and windy.
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Devi said. “You could wait.”
“For what?”
“Next year. You could continue looking for the café. You could stay. Help me shred and grill.” He looked up at Julian, knocking into him lightly. “We could go to the market together, to church. I bought a French pastry book. Ava keeps teasing me, so I’m thinking of