Exiles in America(133)

from his brother. He cannot believe they will arrest him. I hope the call was

monitored, because he said again and again that Abbas knows nothing.

Maybe we should not have spoken Russian? Who can guess what you Ameri-

cans can and cannot understand? But Hassan advises us to sit tight and be pa-

tient. Last year he was questioned at Kennedy for twenty-four hours. Abbas

has not yet been gone for nine. If we have not heard anything by tomorrow, he

says he will start making inquiries through the French embassy.”

She went upstairs to see how the kids were doing. It was almost eight but

felt much later in a house full of children after a day of waiting. Daniel and

Zack continued to wash the dishes. Daniel whispered, “How long do you

think we should stay?”

“I don’t know. We should probably go soon.”

“It feels so unreal,” said Daniel. “My emotions keep going in and out of

focus. Sometimes I feel very anxious, but usually I feel nothing. I can’t help

wondering if we’re just imagining things. Everything is fine and we’re just

being paranoid.”

“Except we met the FBI agents, and they weren’t imaginary. And Abbas

isn’t here. That’s not imaginary either.”

The front door softly jerked open. Zack assumed Elena had come back

3 0 4

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

downstairs and was looking outside. He wondered what she’d heard. But

when he stuck his head around the corner, he saw a strange man closing the

door, a tall man in a heavy coat, a fur cap, and rectangular glasses.

The man resembled Abbas Rohani, only his face was paler, his eyes

smaller. He looked less interesting than Abbas, less significant.

“Papa is home!” sang Osh upstairs.

He stood there, slowly removing his coat and unwinding a scarf, looking at

the empty living room with the burning fire, then noticing Zack and Daniel

staring at him from his kitchen.

Zack heard Daniel take a sharp, deep gulp of air.

“Abbatushka!” cried Elena at the top of the stairs. Her shoes came clatter-

ing down, and she looked like she was going to throw herself on her husband.

She stopped and stood before him, staring.

“I am sorry,” he said flatly. “I know it is late. I should have called. I lost

track of time. I see you went ahead and ate dinner. Good. I am not hungry.”

The children came down the stairs, both in their pajamas, Mina clinging to

the rail and holding back, as wary as a cat.

Elena continued to stare at Abbas. She stole a quick look at the children,

then at Zack, as if wondering whether he saw more than she could.

All Zack saw was a man stunned to find so many people in his house: not

only his family but an ex-trick and the ex-trick’s lover.

“I am fine. I am not hungry,” he repeated. “Do not worry about me. Here.

Let me sit by this fire. Such a nice fire. Come here, Osh. Come keep me com-

pany.” He sat in a boxy cushioned chair by the fireplace and helped Osh

climb into his lap.

The boy in his stretch pajamas, like a little blue union   suit, was tickled to

perch on the throne of his father’s body. He turned sideways and curled

against Abbas’s chest.

“Where have you been?” Elena said drily. “You did not go to the Green

Leafe to meet with these—art dealers.”

“No. Richmond. They took me to Richmond. So we could do our business

there.” He wrapped his arms around Osh and rubbed his nose in the boy’s

wet black hair. Osh wiggled happily.

“You could not phone?”

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

3 0 5

“I wanted to. But they said we would soon finish. And more time kept

passing. Until it was too late and I stopped asking.”

He drew a loud snort through his nose, as if inhaling the aroma of his son’s

head. But no, he was sniffing back tears. He was crying in the boy’s hair. He

twisted his face in a rubbery grimace, trying to squeeze his tear ducts shut.

Elena clapped her hands. “Children! Time for bed. Chop chop. Your fa-

ther is exhausted. Bedtime. Now. It has been a long day.”

Osh wiggled down. Mina raced over and threw herself on her father’s

chest, trying not to look at his tearful face. “Happy dreams, Papa.”

“Happy dreams,” he murmured and petted her good night.

Elena herded the children up the stairs.

Daniel crept over to the fire to add a fresh log. He remained crouched be-

tween the blaze and Abbas. “You okay?” he whispered. “What did they do to

you? Did they hurt you?”

“Nothing. They did nothing.” Abbas wiped his nose on the back of his

hand. “They talked at me. Forever and ever. It was like they would never stop