Chapter 36
A couple of months later, I find myself walking through the streets of Brooklyn, on Leila’s arm. We’re going to see Jackson’s basketball game.
“How does it feel?” Leila asks. “To breathe in all this polluted air?”
I would have expected her to be more sweetly supportive, but that’s never been Leila’s style. She also dismissed my request to have someone from the security service I sometimes still use follow us at a discreet distance as utterly silly. It’s my impression Leila allows me less self-pity and needless anxiety as every day passes.
It’s no wonder, then, that she’s the one I’m walking with on the way to my godson’s game. The last time I saw him play, he must have been only seven—his tiny hands too small to wield a ball that big. He’s fourteen going on fifteen now and e
