this to himself? What did he hope to prove by coming here?
“Hmm. They are prettier than the men in Berlin,” said Abbas. “They take
better care of themselves.”
The bulked-up bodies of a decade ago had been replaced by leaner, lighter
builds, rangy, tattooed physiques that suggested a cross between swimmers
and heroin addicts. It was all males behind the steamed-up plate glass win-
dows, only a few in conversation. The others were reading books or maga-
zines or working at laptops, so the café looked like study hall.
“Why do you need to look at sexy men?” Abbas abruptly asked. “You no
longer find me sexy after I flop?”
Daniel was stunned. “You? How could I not find you sexy?” He never
guessed that Abbas might feel he had failed Daniel. “I’m the one who
flopped. I thought I could help you. I love your work. I thought they’d love it,
too. I figured a man who had a show in Paris could make a dent in the thick
skulls here in a way that I never could. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“I was to be your revenge on them?”
Daniel was stunned all over again. “I don’t think so.” He wanted to dis-
miss the accusation, but it made sense, didn’t it? “No. I was feeling virtuous
and selfless today. Sharing what I couldn’t have. Without envy,” he insisted.
“Believe me. I wasn’t using you. I didn’t mean to humiliate you.”
“I am not humiliated,” said Abbas quietly. “I am disappointed. But I am
not angry. And I do not blame you. I am not with you because I think you will
help my career.”
The man could say absolutely anything. Daniel didn’t really think he was
using him for his career. So why was he with Daniel?
“But I am disappointed,” Abbas repeated. “New York is as shitty as Paris.
Shittier than Berlin. I do not know what I was expecting.” His face looked ex-
tremely long tonight, his eyes cold and dead; Daniel had never seen him look
so forlorn.
“Sorry,” Daniel repeated. “I’m sorry to put you through that. But we’ll for-
get about today. We’ll have fun the rest of the weekend.”
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1 6 7
Abbas nodded. “How far is the hotel?”
“A twenty-minute walk. What? Did you want to go back and rest before
dinner?”
“No, I want to go back and fuck.”
His dry tone made it sound like a grim necessity. Failure was not an aphro-
disiac for Daniel, but maybe it was for Abbas. Or was sex a consolation prize?
“And we can go out and eat later?” asked Daniel, pretending dinner was
his chief concern.
Abbas shook his head. “I do not want to go out again. Can we buy some
food and take it back? Bread and cheese. Some wine?” His face remained
glum, yet more life came into his voice as he talked. “And maybe a nice
dessert? We can stay in for the rest of the night.”
“We could,” said Daniel worriedly. “Yes. We could try that.”
24
Outside in the cold again, walking toward a warm, promising bed,
Daniel waited for his melancholy to lift, but it didn’t. He wondered if
he were too depressed for sex tonight. Maybe sex would only take him and
Abbas out of their sadness for a few minutes, then throw them down again
deeper than ever.
They went to the Jefferson Market on Sixth Avenue—it had leaped across
the street since he and Zack lived nearby—and they purchased plastic tubs of
cubed cheese, baby tomatoes, cold fried chicken, and various salads, as if for
a picnic. Picking out different foods made Daniel feel better. They debated
over dessert—flan or rice pudding—before they chose a small chocolate cake.
They got a bottle of good red wine at the liquor store next door. They bor-
rowed a corkscrew at the front desk of the hotel and went up to their room.
They set the bags of food on the dresser, took off their coats, and began to
kiss. Their faces were cold, their hands colder; the room was warm; their skin
began to thaw.
Abbas broke away to use the toilet. He returned with a box in his hand.
“Look what I brought.” Condoms.
“For you or for me?”
“We shall see.”
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
1 6 9
The hotel room was much smaller than Abbas’s studio, homier, cozier.
There was not only a bed here but a carpet, a chair, a mirror. They left the
room dark except for the soft light from the bathroom.
Abbas’s look of grim need slowly gave way to his sex smile. It was differ-
ent from the coquettish smile he had used with dealers or the tender smile he
gave his son and daughter. This was a happily lewd smile, a toothy, selfish