Exiles in America(139)

paintings half as much as he liked the older, looser, slightly cartoony work.

“Do you really want to do this now?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you rather wait

until things are calmer and you can be objective?”

“I need to do this soon so I won’t leave any good work behind.”

Daniel hesitated. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Nowhere, I hope.”

He continued to pull slowly and steadily with the pliers. Twisted staples

rang against the concrete floor.

“You still think you might be arrested?” said Daniel.

“Maybe. Or maybe I will flee. Either way, I must travel light. I cannot

abandon my best work.”

He sounded perfectly reasonable, utterly calm. The calm may have been

only fatigue, but he did not seem paranoid, especially when one knew he had

good cause to be fearful.

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

3 1 7

“But the FBI says you’re fine.”

“And you believe them?” Abbas continued to pull out teeth. “You are a

Jew. You should know better than anyone what it is like to be hated. To be a

foreigner wherever you go. They smile at us when they make their promises.

But they are lying, always lying.”

“Nobody hates you,” Daniel claimed. “Nobody hates me either.”

Abbas turned the painting around to its next side and continued to pull.

“Did you talk to your brother over the weekend?” Daniel hoped to find an

explanation there.

“Yes. He wants me to come home. Elena thinks we should stay.”

“She thinks the danger is over?”

“She says we have French passports. France will protect us. She wants to

go to the French embassy and see what they can do.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Abbas shook his head. “She is talking in her hat. Because she hates my

country. So much that she prefers to risk losing me rather than go over

there.”

Daniel paused again. “You can’t believe that. Zack and I were with her all

day Friday. She was very worried. Very upset. She cares about you very much.”

“She says she cares, and maybe she does.” He yanked out another staple.

“Sometimes. But she is a Russian. They are a cynical people. She is always

looking out for her own ass.”

Daniel had told the department that he knew Abbas inside out, as if talk-

ing to a man when you’re both naked gives you special insight. But Daniel

didn’t really know him, did he? He wished Zack were here. Maybe Zack

could tell if this talk were crazy or not.

“Look, I got a class in fifteen minutes. Can we continue this later? We

could meet for a drink this afternoon.”

“No. Osh and I are going to the mosque this afternoon.”

That took Daniel by surprise. “The mosque in Newport News?”

“Yes. It is a good place to think. I was first there with my brother, but I

went back on Saturday. I find I can focus my thoughts there. I like the peace

and order.”

3 1 8

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

Now Daniel remembered the full title of the orange painting: “Surrender

to God and you will be safe.”

“I’ve never been to a mosque,” said Daniel. “Can I join you?”

Abbas glanced up from his pliers. “Why? There is nothing to see. Only an

ugly building, an old automobile showroom. Full of black Americans speak-

ing bad Arabic. You will find it ridiculous. The calm is in this dome, not in

that one.” He pointed at his head. “Plus the place is watched by the police.

They will see you with me and think the worst.”

“I don’t care what they think of me,” said Daniel.

“I care what they think of me, ” said Abbas. “More important, it is a private

place. A personal place. For me and my son. I do not want you there as a tourist.”

“I’m not going as a tourist, I’m going as a friend.”

Abbas frowned again. “Why are you so warm to me? Why do you want to

look after me?”

The question threw Daniel. “Because you’re my friend. Because I care

about you.”

Abbas shook his head. “Not for the sex? You are hoping we will have sex

again?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Because I am done with sex. With men and women. Sex makes one too

vulnerable. It takes one out of the mind and into the body. The body makes

life difficult.”

Only now did Daniel realize that he felt no erotic tension today, none of

the usual chemical density of memory and anticipation. The Iranian’s pres-

ence was oddly weightless. Was it the five-day beard or the shadow of prison?

Was it simply because Abbas felt no lust? Daniel was confused by the thinner