“Must be a student. Let the machine take care of it.”
“Get each other out of your systems,” Zack continued as he returned to
the table. “And leave the rest of us in peace.”
The machine clicked, their recorded message played. An angry voice came
on. “Daniel? Are you there, Daniel? Talk to me, Daniel!”
Daniel jumped up and snatched the phone. “Abbas?”
“She is making me crazy, making me mad. I must see you tonight or I will
go nuts.”
“Where are you?”
“The art building. If I did not get away, I was afraid I would hit her. I am
so full of poison. Please, please, come over.”
“I’ll be right there.” Daniel hung up. He was excited, frightened, amazed.
He found Zack staring at him.
“What does he want?”
“He needs to see me right away. He says it’s an emergency.”
“To talk?”
“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He was so excited that Abbas wanted him
that he didn’t need to know his purpose. “I told him I’d go over right away.
Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
1 4 3
“I don’t care. Fuck it. Just go.” Zack turned away. “I’ll enjoy this delicious
meal without you.” And he dug into his pasta, as if he were upset over eating
alone, nothing else.
Daniel knew he should say something to acknowledge Zack’s anger or
hurt. But words would lead only to more words. He grabbed his coat and left.
f 2
It was cold outside. Daniel did not run down the street. He walked—quietly,
steadily. He did not know if Abbas wanted him for talk or sex or a punch in
the nose, but he wanted to go to him. He knew he was making other people
unhappy—he was making himself unhappy—yet he still wanted to go. He
must be in love.
f 2
The lights were on in Andrews, but the first floor was deserted. Daniel went
upstairs to Abbas’s studio. The door was wide open. The room was dark ex-
cept for the gooseneck lamp on the floor. The sofa was empty.
Then Daniel saw Abbas behind the sofa, angrily pacing in the dark, his
face flaring up behind a cigarette. The confident, humorous lover of this af-
ternoon was gone. “I have no time. Close the door,” he commanded and
ground out his cigarette on the concrete floor. “No talk. I have had enough
talk today.”
“Fine,” said Daniel. “Me too.” And he went straight to Abbas and got his
tongue into his mouth before either could say another word.
f 2
What does sex feel like with someone you’re in love with? Is it so different
from sex with a friend or a stranger? Maybe love isn’t sex. Maybe love hap-
pens only in the time between sex, when you are anticipating sex or remem-
bering it. Or so Daniel told himself as he ran his hands over a muscular back
and hairy ass and sucked on a thick, Camel-flavored tongue.
Both men were eager, rushed, careless, trying to pack an hour into five
minutes. Neither had shaved since this morning; they kissed through thin
1 4 4
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
masks of sandpaper. Abbas never broke into his usual smile, but he began to
sigh like a man sinking into a hot bath, over and over. And Daniel found him-
self thinking: If I touch him here, will that express my love? Or if I get my fin-
ger here or my mouth there? He was sorry he hadn’t brought condoms, but
there are other obscene things one body can do to another to prove that love
is shameless.
21
Why are people afraid? People are so afraid nowadays. Not just
me, but everyone. But life is good. Life is comfortable. In America
anyway. But people are so nervous. We live out at Kingsmill. It’s a gated com-
munity. There’s security guards and electric fences, and friends have to call
ahead just to visit us. But this is Virginia. What’s to be afraid of? There’re no
terrorists here. Or drug dealers or prostitutes or people like that. And I don’t
mean black people. You know my feelings there. We talked about race al-
ready.”
“Yes, we have,” said Zack impatiently.
“The Rock Church is very good about race.”
“I know it is. Continue.”
Fay Dawson paused. “Are you angry with me today?”
“Not at all. I’m just waiting to see where you’re going with this.” He care -
fully softened his tone. “Do you include yourself in this fear, Fay? You have a
different understanding of your panic attacks now that they’re over?”
“Oh yes. I’m not so afraid of being afraid,” she replied. “I see now that
everyone is afraid. So I don’t feel petrified by fear. But it’s not like the drugs