Chapter 37: Monday — Summary, Analysis, and Key Themes

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.

Summary

Cyrus Shams wakes Monday morning in his Brooklyn hotel room, the fourth day of his New York trip, and immediately registers that something is wrong: he is cold, heavy, and wet. He has wet the bed—a regular occurrence during the deepest stages of his drinking, but one that stopped when he got sober. The discovery floods him with old feelings: the reflexive urge to avoid getting in trouble, then self-loathing and exasperation with living. He allows himself a few moments of self-pity and admits he wants to be not-alive—not dead, not suicidal, but relieved of the burden of living.

The chapter moves through Cyrus's memories of his friendship with Zee, when the two spent years happily blacking out together. He recalls a night at Keady when he drunkenly drew crowns on Zee's bathroom mirror with the words We can wear these crowns forever. He also remembers the AA Big Book passage about self-pity and resentments being dubious luxuries for normal people but poison for alcoholics. Cyrus reflects that his best friend is gone, he's in a cold war with his sponsor, his book is going nowhere, and his life is too broken for his death to count toward anything—a meaningless life means a meaningless death.

Cyrus cleans up, balling up the sheets, throwing away his sweatpants, and showering. He questions the point of sobriety: if he'd been drunk, the mess would make sense, but he's been doing everything right, and still ends up in the same shame. After showering, he gets $40 from the lobby ATM to leave for the maid with an apology note. At checkout, the attendant Hua asks if he made anything cool during his stay, a question that catches Cyrus off guard. He shakes his head and heads for the museum.

Walking through Brooklyn on a cold, beautiful day, Cyrus texts Zee an apology and asks where he is, but gets no reply. He puts on headphones and plays the Miserere, a 1980 recording, finding it a haunting score to the city. He decides he'll ask Orkideh about the piece and plans to tell her about his uncle, the soldier in her painting. He reflects on his identity liminality—neither Iranian nor American, neither Muslim nor not-Muslim, neither drunk nor in meaningful recovery, neither gay nor straight—and hopes Orkideh's perspective on mortality might illuminate his own confusion.

At the museum, Cyrus pays admission and climbs to the third floor, passing the docent with the septum ring. He finds the Death-Speak gallery dark, with a velvet rope across the doorway and a laminated note bearing a black-and-white photo of a young Orkideh. The note announces that the exhibit is closed, thanks Orkideh for trusting the museum with her final installation, and includes her words: Art is where what we survive survives. The dates 1963–2017 confirm her death.

Cyrus stumbles back to the docent, who confirms the artist passed away the previous night. The docent mentions she was living in the museum and that he heard she may have taken a handful of her pain pills. Cyrus, unable to speak, tries desperately to remember how to stand like a person but finds only shadow. He collapses.

Key Events

• Cyrus wakes to discover he has wet the bed, triggering memories of his drinking days and a wave of shame

• He reflects on his friendship with Zee and the AA passage about self-pity as poison

• He cleans up, leaves $40 and an apology note for the maid, and checks out of the hotel

• He texts Zee an apology with no response

• He walks to the Brooklyn Museum listening to the Miserere, planning to discuss it with Orkideh

• He finds the Death-Speak gallery closed with a notice announcing Orkideh's death

• A docent tells him Orkideh died the previous night, possibly from an overdose of pain pills

• Cyrus collapses

Character Development

Cyrus Shams: This chapter shows Cyrus at his most vulnerable. The bed-wetting incident strips away the veneer of control he's been maintaining, forcing him to confront the shame that sobriety was supposed to eliminate. His reflection on the AA passage about self-pity reveals his internal struggle: he knows the dubious luxury of self-pity is poison for him, yet he can't stop himself from indulging it. His identity crisis—neither Iranian nor American, neither drunk nor in recovery—deepens. The chapter also shows his capacity for connection: he wants to share the Miserere with Orkideh, to tell her about his uncle, to bridge the gap between them. His collapse at the news of her death is the culmination of his emotional unraveling.

Zee (off-page): Though absent, Zee looms large in this chapter. Cyrus's memories of their friendship—the blackouts, the crowns on the mirror, Zee's patient silence during Cyrus's sad spells—underscore how much Cyrus has lost. Zee's absence and silence on the phone amplify Cyrus's isolation.

Orkideh (off-page): Her death is announced in this chapter, but her presence persists through the note she left behind. The quote Art is where what we survive survives becomes her epitaph and a key to understanding her philosophy of art as a vehicle for survival.

Themes, Symbols, or Motifs

Relapse and shame: The bed-wetting is a physical echo of a drinking-era behavior, even though Cyrus hasn't touched alcohol. It forces him to confront the question: if sobriety doesn't protect him from shame, what's the point?

Self-pity as poison: The AA passage about dubious luxuries is central. Cyrus knows self-pity is poison for him, yet he indulges it anyway, recognizing the contradiction.

Meaningless life, meaningless death: Cyrus's belief that his life is too broken for his death to count toward anything directly connects to Orkideh's death. Her death has meaning because her life had meaning—her art survives her. Cyrus fears his death will be meaningless because his life feels meaningless.

Identity liminality: Cyrus's catalog of in-between identities—neither Iranian nor American, neither Muslim nor not-Muslim, neither drunk nor in recovery, neither gay nor straight—positions him as someone perpetually between categories.

Art as survival: Orkideh's quote reframes art as a vessel for what outlasts us. This connects to Cyrus's own writing ambitions.

Music as emotional landscape: The Miserere becomes a soundtrack to Cyrus's walk through Brooklyn, shaping how he experiences the city and his own emotions.

Why This Chapter Matters

This chapter delivers the novel's central loss: Orkideh's death. Cyrus arrives at the museum expecting to continue their conversation, only to find the gallery closed and the artist gone. The chapter forces Cyrus to confront the reality of death in a way he hasn't before—not his own imagined death, but the actual death of someone he was beginning to connect with. Orkideh's death also raises questions about agency: did she take the pain pills deliberately, or was it an accident? The ambiguity mirrors Cyrus's own ambivalence about death.

The chapter also crystallizes Cyrus's emotional state: his shame about the bed-wetting, his isolation from Zee, his identity crisis, and his fear that his life—and therefore his death—will be meaningless. Orkideh's death, and her parting words about art as survival, offer a counterpoint: meaning is created through what we make and leave behind.

Study Questions

1. Why does Cyrus's bed-wetting trigger such a profound emotional crisis, even though he hasn't been drinking?

Cyrus's bed-wetting is a physical echo of his drinking days, a behavior that should have ended with sobriety. Its return forces him to confront the possibility that sobriety hasn't actually changed him—that the shame, self-loathing, and self-pity he felt as a drinker are still there, just without the alcohol. He even reflects that if he'd been drunk, the mess would make sense; but he's been doing everything right, and still ends up in the same shame. The incident undermines his belief that sobriety was a solution, leaving him questioning the point of his recovery.

2. How does Orkideh's death reframe the novel's exploration of meaningful versus meaningless death?

Throughout the novel, Cyrus has been preoccupied with his own death—how to make it meaningful, how to control its terms. Orkideh's death complicates this. She was dying anyway, but the circumstances (possibly taking a handful of pain pills) suggest she may have chosen her moment. Her death has meaning because her life had meaning: her art survives her, as her quote suggests. Cyrus, by contrast, fears his life is too broken for his death to count toward anything. Orkideh's death offers a model of meaningful death through meaningful life—and a challenge to Cyrus to make his life matter.

3. What does the Miserere represent for Cyrus in this chapter?

The Miserere, a haunting choral work, becomes a lens through which Cyrus experiences the city. He finds it a hauntingly good score to Brooklyn, with everything around him syncopating or complicating its rhythms. He plans to share it with Orkideh, to ask her about it, and to tell her about his uncle. The Miserere represents Cyrus's desire for connection—both with Orkideh and with his own emotional life. It's also a piece of art that moves him, suggesting that art can be a vehicle for feeling and meaning, even when words fail.

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