schedule, but I am at the Barnes and Noble Superstore in Merchants Square
every afternoon between one and four. You will always find me upstairs,
drinking their good American coffee.”
The message was on Zack’s answering machine, the “Dr. Knowles” num-
ber used by patients. Zack checked it regularly in case someone called with an
emergency. Today was the day after the day after Christmas. Zack suspected
Hassan wanted more than a friendly chat; he knew he should ignore the invi-
tation. Both he and Daniel needed to keep away from the Rohanis. Yet he was
curious—very curious—and Daniel was out for the day, gone to Richmond to
look at wallpaper for the dining room, his home project for the winter. Zack
knew he was still angry with Daniel but decided that his anger had nothing to
do with his desire to see Hassan. He’d be very careful, and would tell Daniel
about the meeting later.
Zack walked over to Merchants Square that afternoon. The day was cold
and overcast. The bookstore was full of tourists. Upstairs, however, the café
along the balcony was nearly deserted. This was a hangout for students, and
2 6 8
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
they were all home for the holidays. Christmas music still played over the
sound system: “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”
Hassan sat at a corner table with an open laptop and a loose heap of mag-
azines and newspapers. He wore his usual blue wool suit with a collarless
shirt. He looked very solemn, typing away with two fingers. He saw Zack over
the tops of his half-glasses. He broke into a grin and stood up.
“Doctor! So good to see you. I was afraid we would not get a chance to
talk before I left.” He closed his laptop and took off his glasses. “Sit, please.
The news is not good.” He gestured at the magazines, mostly business-
related, plus the Times and Wall Street Journal. “Your president does not trust the UN inspectors to do their job. We hate Saddam Hussein even more than
you do. But war is not a good idea.” He continued to smile in his silvery
beard. “War is vile. Which we learned for ourselves when we fought an eight-
year war with Iraq, back when they were your allies.”
Zack thanked Hassan for the offer of coffee but said he’d already had too
much caffeine today. “I assume you didn’t just want to drink coffee with me.
There was something in particular you wanted to discuss?”
“What? No small talk first?” Hassan laughed. “I am a bit that way myself.
Which is not a good way to do business in either Tehran or Paris. No prob-
lem. I already sense that one gets what one sees with you, Doctor. Your batin
and your zahir are the same. Your inside and outside.” Still smiling, he care-
fully placed his hands on the table, side by side. “So. I will cut to the chase. I
am concerned about my brother. I am trying hard to convince him and his
family to come home to Iran.”
“Really?” said Zack, feigning surprise. “Right away?”
“As soon as possible. In case a war closes your borders.”
“But Abbas wants to stay here?”
“No, he would like to come home. Part of him. But yes, part of him wants
to stay. And that part listens to his wife. They’ve made common cause against
the part that’s on my side.”
Zack pretended to think about it. “I’m sure they have perfectly good rea-
sons for wanting to stay out of Iran.”
Hassan nodded. “Some better than others. Which brings me to your
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
2 6 9
mate. ” He lightly smacked his lips on the word: it made them sound like
Adam and Eve. “Who has a very special friendship with my brother.”
“Yes, well, yes.” Zack kept himself detached from his sudden nervousness.
“They have a lot in common. They’re both painters. They both teach. You saw
them the other night. All four of us have become very good friends over the
past few months.”
Hassan chuckled. “Doctor? You do not have to fib. I know my brother. I
know the nature of his friendships.”
Zack glanced at the other tables along the balcony, not because he thought
someone might hear this but to give himself time to think. The only other cof-
fee drinker was a thirty-something law student poring over a textbook. He
must be a married man who had come here this afternoon to get away from
his family.
“Do not misunderstand me,” said Hassan. “I do not care that this friend-
ship is sexual. I certainly do not care that my brother’s friend is an American
or even a Jew. No, what matters is that this friendship could be keeping him
from coming home.”
He knew more than Zack anticipated, yet he clearly knew nothing about