Exiles in America(119)

tic. Just to keep the peace.” He hated this kind of I-am-more-passionate-than-

you, passion-is-truth line of talk; he refused to be pulled in. “But there are

plenty of good reasons for Abbas and Elena not to go to Iran. Reasons that

have nothing to do with Daniel.”

“Such as?”

“Iran cannot be an easy country for a man who sometimes has sex with

other men—”

“There should be no problem if he is discreet.”

“Or for an independent woman who prefers life in the West.”

“Then she can stay in the West.”

Zack hadn’t digested the first answer when he heard the second. “You’d

break up their marriage?”

“If necessary. It’s a bad marriage. It deserves to be broken.”

Zack was so startled he didn’t know how to respond. “Who would take

the children?” But he already knew the answer.

“The children belong to the father.”

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C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m

Zack felt paralyzed, his brain numb. “But Elena loves her kids. She loves

your brother, too. And he loves her, in his fashion.”

Hassan dismissed the possibility with a flip of his hand. “If he loved her,

he would not go to men for sex. In Iran he could get a good young Iranian

wife, or two, and his loneliness would end. I do not deny Elena’s heart would

break to lose a son and daughter. But she has nobody to blame but herself.

For marrying into our family for money and not love. She knew what she was

getting. I have no qualms about telling my brother to leave her.” He took a

deep breath—ruthlessness was tiring. “Which is neither here nor there, since

he said no to Iran under any circumstances, with or without his Russian

woman. He would rather stay here in the Great Satan”—he laughed again—

“even if he is getting no ass. Do you know if he’s buggering someone else now

that he no longer buggers your mate?”

Was this why Hassan wasn’t shocked by his brother’s sexuality: he as-

sumed Abbas was a top? As if anybody ever stayed in one position for long. “I

don’t really know,” said Zack. “I don’t think so.”

Hassan nodded to the left, then to the right, as if talking to himself. “So

that’s our story? Very well. I tried. Nothing for me to do but accept defeat and

go home to Iran.” He stood up, declaring the meeting over. “This has been

very interesting, Doctor. Thank you for coming to talk. I hope I didn’t say

anything to shock you?”

“Not at all. You’re a very reasonable man.” But Zack couldn’t just leave

things there. “Going back to your statement about agnostics and shades of gray?

You should talk to some of my patients. The ones who see everything in primary

colors. They believe in good and evil, love and hate. They feel they are good and other people are evil. They love, other people hate. And so on. It makes life easier. They don’t have to think. Their categories do their thinking for them.”

Hassan only smiled. “You are calling me crazy?”

“Not at all. I’m not attacking your point of view. I’m only defending mine.

We’re all a bit crazy. But a little gray is good now and then. It gives us space

to maneuver in. Have a good trip back to Iran. Good luck there.”

“And good luck here, Doctor. You’re welcome to visit us, you know, you

and your mate. You would find much that’s appealing, despite what you’ve

heard.”

E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a

2 7 3

“I don’t doubt it. I’m sure there’s a lot to love in both the country and the

people. Goodbye.”

Zack lifted his hand in a casual salute, remembering Hassan didn’t shake

hands. He trotted down the steps and out into the cold, pleased that he’d spo-

ken in praise of gray, sorry he hadn’t made a more passionate speech. But

righteous passion would only make him feel better; it would not change Has-

san’s mind.

Zack was surprised at how tired he felt, as if he were walking away from a

bitter argument. Yet neither man had raised his voice once during their con-

versation.

He was crossing the beige cobblestones in front of the Trellis Restaurant

when he noticed a female figure sitting on a bench. It was too cold to sit out-

side. Zack looked again and saw the burgundy scarf around her head. She was

smoking and watching him. It was Elena. She put out her cigarette and stood

up. He noticed other cigarette butts under her bench. She came over.

“You’ve been waiting?” he asked. “For me or for him?”

“For you,” she said curtly. “And now you are here and I can go. We are