I know you are. Maybe you need a doctor. I’m sorry about last night. Really very sorry.”“No time for apologies. Come now, get ready.”“I told...you. I don’t want to go.”“If you consider me anything you’ll come. You are an Imam, the descendant of Ali. I wasn’t lying to you. I’m telling you the truth, may Allah strike me down if I’m lying.”Thinking his mother a crackpot, the Imam donned the same garments he wore the night before. His motive was to see Nasiba again. Upon arrival at the mosque he. “Come and help me with these,” his mother called to him.Trying his best to mimic the motions of a sober person, he stood up and swaggered his way into the kitchen. She had several boxes of takeout food piled high in her arms. He took most of them from her and set them on the kitchen island before giving her an expectant look.“I’ve fallen out of the practice of cooking for every meal,” she explained the reason for the food.“You used to say that meals should be eaten at the table with everyone,”. More

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