Christmas night. Maybe he was just guessing at things and hoping Zack would
spill the beans.
Zack said, “Sorry. But I can’t speak for either Daniel or your brother
here.”
“I understand. You are loyal and discreet. I respect that. You do not have
to speak for anyone. But may I describe the situation from my point of view?
You can agree or disagree and tell Daniel or not. The choice is yours.”
Zack told him to go ahead; he was willing to listen.
Hassan cleared his throat. “I love my brother. Very much. Not only as a
brother but now, since the death of our father, I am the head of our family. I
want to bring him and his children home. For selfish reasons, I admit. I love
my niece and nephew as if they were my own. But I also want to make my fam-
ily whole again, in a way they have not been whole since we left Iran in 1979.
And I want to help my brother, who is very unhappy here. He is quite lonely,
despite his wife and children. But if he came home to Tehran, he could be part
2 7 0
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
of something larger than himself, a solid growth of self and family and coun-
try and God. A beautiful unity. I need him. His country needs him. He needs
us. Everyone will benefit.”
Hassan maintained a serene cheerfulness during his speech, a jovial confi-
dence that made Zack uneasy. His charm made his words sound cynical. The
man was a charmer, a game player. His belief in God was sincere—Zack
granted him that—yet people were only means to an end for him; he didn’t
care what they thought or wanted for themselves.
“We all dream of coming home,” said Zack. “It’s a common desire. But it
works best as a tool, a metaphor. I assume Abbas is going to be a little lonely no
matter where he lives. For a variety of reasons. Including the fact that he’s gay.”
Hassan laughed. “He is not gay. Not really. Gay is a Western concept, a
European thing. Have you not read Foucault?” His cynical smile made Zack
think he was joking, at first. “He has a very strong sex drive, my brother, and
can satisfy it only with men. Which sometimes leads to obsession. Not love
but sexual obsession. If he had not seen me with our maid all those years ago,
he would have developed proper sexual feelings. So it is partly my fault, which
is another reason why I feel responsible for him. If he had married more
wisely, he might have outgrown these habits. But his Russian wife is too old
and bossy. She would put any man off the female sex.”
There were so many knots to undo here that Zack didn’t know where to
begin. He was indignant for Elena’s sake. He decided not to discuss her for
fear of losing his temper.
“Your brother is his own man,” he said. “Which you should know better
than anyone. He makes his own choices. Nobody can change his mind for
him, not his wife or brother or lover.” He hesitated: Yes, he should go ahead
and say it. “He and Daniel were never lovers. They were fuck buddies. Briefly.
Do you know the term? Then they were just friends. Now even friendship is
winding down. Abbas’s decision not to go to Iran has nothing to do with sex-
ual obsession.”
Hassan kept his smile; his smile never broke. “You are certain of that?”
Zack hesitated. He was not completely certain about anything with
Daniel, much less Abbas. “I am. Yes. I get regular reports, whether I want
them or not.”
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
2 7 1
Hassan’s eyebrows went up. He looked surprised, amused. “So I cannot
blame your mate? Alas. I was hoping to find my solution there. I thought
maybe you could ask him to cut off the juice and that would be the end.”
Zack faked a smile. “Daniel would be flattered to hear that. But there’s
been no juice for some time. They’re just friends now.”
Hassan kept his look of amused surprise. “And this buddy-fucking was
okay by you? It did not make you angry or jealous? I was about to say you
must be the wife in your marriage, until I remembered women in your situa-
tion, and they are often furious.”
It was intended as a put-down, and not a subtle one either. “Every mar-
riage is its own country,” said Zack. “With its own laws and customs.”
Hassan shook his head. “You secular Americans. Everything is only luke-
warm for you. All in shades of gray. There is neither love nor hate, good nor
evil, hot nor cold. You are so gray and civilized. Which is hard for us hot-
blooded people to understand. We are a yes-or-no people. You probably
don’t even think of yourself as an atheist but as only an agnostic. Am I
right?”
“Actually, I am an atheist,” said Zack. “Although I tell people I’m agnos-