A Remarkable Kindness by Diana Bletter

strung across the ceiling. Emily sat across from Boaz at a table by the window, overlooking the harbor. The air smelled of grilled fish, cigarette smoke, and the salty sea air, and the lights were soft on the water.
    â€œDo you know what you’d like?” Boaz asked.
    â€œTell me what’s good.” Rob might be a respected chef in Boston, but he wouldn’t have known what to order here, Emily thought smugly, focusing on Boaz and the way he gave their order to the waiter.
    â€œTabbouleh. Arugula salad. Hummus and tahini , ” Boaz said. “Tomato salad. The fennel salad. Smoked eggplant and toasted pita bread. Two of your freshest fish on the grill. And two glasses of good white wine.”
    After the waiter left, Emily asked, “Do you believe that things happen for a reason? Or do you think everything just happens?”
    â€œWhy do you want to know?”
    â€œLauren and I have a running argument about that. And because now I’m sitting here with you and I used to be married to a chef in Boston.”
    â€œI used to be married to a social worker.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Emily asked curiously, because this was the first time they’d ever talked about their private lives.
    â€œShe went folk dancing every week.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd nothing. She left me for another folk dancer.”
    â€œThat’s weird. My husband left me for a dancer, too. A ballet dancer with the—” Emily stopped. She had promised herself she would not talk about them. It was bad enough thinking about them. She quickly asked, “What was your wife’s name?”
    â€œI don’t remember.” Boaz turned it into a joke and they laughed as the waiter brought the wine.
    â€œHow about a toast?” Emily said.
    â€œL’chaim.”
    â€œ L’chaim. ” To life. Not to her old one, but to her new one. Maybe a new one with Boaz? The waiter set out the array of appetizers and the pita breads, opened like full moons and coated with olive oil, oregano, and garlic. She took a bite of the garlickytomato salad. “This is all so delicious. Ta-im, right? I’m going to stuff myself on all the salads. And I’m really trying to watch my weight.” She thought of beanpole Taylor with a twinge of pain.
    â€œWhy? You look fine.”
    She smiled at Boaz, who caught her eye, grinned back, and winked. After one glass of wine, the waiter returned with fresh grilled fish, French fries, and more toasted pita bread.
    â€œI really do want to know what you think about whether things happen for a reason,” Emily said. “My father said there are no mistakes in life. It’s all fated even if we don’t understand why.”
    Boaz rubbed the side of his face. “One time during the war in Lebanon, I went into a toilet stall and when I stepped out, another guy went in, and then, just seconds later, a missile exploded and he was killed. He was as close to me as you are now. Why him? Lamah lo ani? Why not me?”
    Emily sat very still—her father would have done the same thing—and let the weight of Boaz’s words sink to the bottom of the sea. She put down her fork on the side of her plate and let her hands fall into her lap, linking her fingers together. Boaz raised his bushy eyebrows as if to apologize for something and she smiled at him, trying to convey the message that whatever he wanted to tell her, he could tell her.
    She sat for a long time, waiting for him to say something more. He seemed like a wounded soul, someone her father would have tried to comfort and befriend. Emily felt relieved that she no longer had to be entertaining and amusing all the time, the way she had to be with Rob or some of the other guys she’d dated in Boston. She gazed down at the sea. The water was drizzled withsquiggles of light coming from the harbor lamps. It was a calm evening and the boats swayed gently.
    â€œWhy aren’t you