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Selim’s advice had a take-it-or-leave-it quality, as if he understood what it required to believe something into being true.
Her years of working in public hospitals had rendered the world blunt to her. You had a tumor, you cut it out. Your husband beat you, you left him. You didn’t fool around with herbal remedies for the cancer and you didn’t go home and believe your husband when he said he’d never do it again. She had no patience with justifications and excuses; she was not entirely sure about forgiveness.
There was so much time between now and eventually. There was so much trouble yet to come.
When Sheila was young, her mother told her not to go looking for trouble, but that didn’t seem to be good advice. How else would you find it?