Chapter 14

She paused, praying, it seemed, upon hearing her name. In a whisper, she replied, “You . . . you knew her, yes? Was she as beautiful as she appears in her pictures?”

“You’ve got to be k—” Dara kicked me, a clear reminder not to speak from the top of my head, as was my way. “I mean, yes, beautiful. Sure. We’ll go with that.” I mean, in bar light, dim as it was, she was, well, pretty. From a distance. And after a few strong drinks.

Soon enough, we arrived again on solid ground, on Ellis Island. Here the buildings had been converted to apartments, the gardens to crops, a veritable city springing up from what was once a museum. Funny, because here now were the last remaining immigrants on an island that had once been dedicated to just that. It was, I thought, a testament to humanity. We did seem to cling to life. Even I did, however much you could call it that anymore—life, I mean. Then I turned to Dara and smiled. Guess we clung to love as well, I quickly realized. And hope.