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2

Only after he had reassured his worried partner did Adam take the trouble to open the other email he had received during the night, this one from Albert.

Unlike their previous exchanges, this one was in English, which added a little to the intrigue. It was hardly surprising that his friend, having lived in the United States for more than twenty years, might feel more comfortable using the language of his adoptive country. All the same, there was something unusual and even unsettling about it.

Dear Adam,

I’m writing to you with good news and bad news. The bad news is that my adoptive mother is gravely ill and it looks as though she might not have much time left, which, as you can imagine, has upset me deeply. So I have to go and visit her, in the old country, if only to kiss her one last time.

The good news is that this will give me the opportunity to see you, and other friends from my childhood.

Since I have no wish to put the institute I work for in an awkward situation, I’ve decided to do everything according to the rules and request an exceptional license to travel so that my family obligations do not force me to contravene the directives I must comply with, as a researcher and as a citizen.

Obviously, I’ll let you know my plans as soon as I have the exact dates of my visit.

Yours sincerely,

Albert N. Kithar

Why had he signed his full name rather than his first name, or simply his initial as he usually did? And who was this “adoptive mother” of whom Adam had never heard, despite knowing Albert since they were children? It was true that Albert had never been very forthcoming about his family, but even so!

He reread the email a second and then a third time. Eventually the penny dropped. If his friend in America had written to him in English, in this tone, it was clearly because the email was going to be read by others. In a sense, it was a double-sided email, containing both an official message and a coded message. What Albert was trying to tell him was that he had decided to come, and that he had found the perfect pretext for getting around the government ban.

Why resort to such subterfuge in a free country like the United States? Adam had no idea. But it was something he would be able to ask his friend in person, since he had obviously decided to come. And soon, too, given that his ghostly “adoptive mother” could not hold out for very long. This was the joyous news contained in the message, the rest was merely camouflage.

Nonetheless, Adam needed to reply in the same language, and with the same ambiguity.

Dear Albert,

I am very saddened to hear that your adoptive mother is so ill. I hope that she makes a full recovery.

I hope that when you come to visit her, we will have the opportunity to see each other. We have so many childhood memories to talk about.

I will wait to hear from you when you know the dates of your visit.

All the best,

Adam

With a satisfied smile, he pressed Send. He had found it impossible to imagine a reunion without Albert, the most intelligent, the most caustic, the most brilliant of them all. And the most morose, though this had rarely been in evidence since he settled in the United States.

Now, everything was set for a memorable reunion. Adam stretched himself out like a contented cat and then went and lay down on the bed, ready to doze off.

His third night with Sémiramis had been as delectable as the first two, but he had only slept in fits and starts. Between their conversations they made love, and between lovemaking they chatted, and so on until dawn.

He made the effort to sit up, and reach for the notebook that lay on the nightstand, in which he wanted to confide his thoughts.

SATURDAY, APRIL 28

Will Sémi and I have a fourth night of passion? Probably not. The “authorization” given by Dolores allowed us a period of grace without the nagging irritant of guilt. But since the email I’ve just received, things can’t carry on as before.

True, Dolores has not explicitly asked me to put an end to the affair, but what she wants is implicit, and I can’t ignore it without feeling that I’ve betrayed her. Dolores has been so graceful about all this. I would be unworthy of her love if I were less noble than she.

So, is that the end of it? Should I brusquely “turn the page” and push Sémi out of the love zone? If she were to suddenly open the door and come and lie down next to me, should I push her away or tenderly take her in my arms?

Having recorded his dilemmas without quite knowing how to resolve them, Adam closed his notebook, set down his pen, and fell asleep.

When he woke, another email was waiting on his computer. This time from Brazil.

Dearest Adam,

I have a lot to say to you about the conflict in the Levant that marked us both and that is clearly not about to end any time soon. If we agree on the essentials, there are also a number of differences. But, paradoxically, these differences are what bring us closer together.

You deplore the fact that your people are disconnected from the conscience of the world, or at least of the West. I deplore the fact that, these days, my people are disconnected from what was, for centuries, their most historic, their most emblematic, their irreplaceable role: that of the leaven of global humanism. This was our universal mission, the mission that earned us the hatred of fanatics, of regional chauvinists, of all narrow-minded people. I can understand our desire to become “a nation among nations,” with its own sense of belonging. But in the process of this mutation, something essential is being lost. It is not possible to be fiercely nationalist and resolutely universalist.

I suppose we’ll have the opportunity to discuss this at greater length and in greater depth. But, for the moment—it is precisely 5:20 a.m. here, and I haven’t had my first cup of coffee—I don’t feel able to argue coherently. The reason I’m writing to you at dawn is to respond to your suggestion about dates for the reunion. On that subject, I have a little problem … but also, maybe, a solution.

I have to fly to Milan for a week on May 8, and the ideal solution would have been for me to make my “pilgrimage” in mid-May. Which might have coincided with the dates you’ve suggested. Unfortunately, that’s not possible, because just after Milan, I have to go to Mexico for an important conference.

The only possibility I can think of is if I make a detour via the old country before going to Italy. That would mean sometime in the next few days. Will you still be there? And do you think our other friends could be there, so we could all meet up?

I realize this is all very rushed, and I’ll completely understand if you and the others have plans in the near future. But, as far as I’m concerned, if I don’t come right now, I’ll have to postpone the visit for several months. In fact, I have the feeling that if I don’t seize the opportunity right now, there might not be another for a long time …

So, that’s why I’m writing at this ungodly hour … Think about it, talk to our friends, and let me know as soon as you can.

Much love,

Naïm

Adam hastily replied, without troubling to think about it or to consult anyone.

I’ve got just one word to say to you, Naïm: COME! Don’t hesitate. You’ve got an opportunity, don’t let it slip through your fingers. Come! God knows when we’ll get another chance to meet up.

Personally, I’m not planning to go back to Paris anytime soon. I’ll come and meet you at the airport, probably with Sémi, who’ll propose that you stay at the auberge that bears her name, which is “out of this world.” I suggest you accept. We’ll have adjoining rooms, and we can talk until dawn.

I look forward to hearing from you very soon. Correction: I look forward to you sending me your flight number and your arrival time.

Just to be sure, he immediately called Sémiramis on her mobile phone.

“Naïm has just told me he is going to come soon, possibly next week. I’ve suggested that he take a room here.”

“You did wisely, it’s an excellent hotel.”

“I even promised he could have the room adjoining mine.”

“No problem, it’s still low season. The regulars won’t arrive before June. Until then, as you’ve seen, the place is more or less deserted. And don’t say you’re glad!”

“No, I’ve learned my lesson, your accountant is tearing his hair out, etcetera, etcetera.”

“And he’s warned that he might soon have to file for bankruptcy. Not this year, though, not yet.”

“On a different subject, Albert has diplomatically let me know that he’s found a way to get around the US government directives. But best not to say anything until he’s here with us.”

“It’s all good news today.”

Then, lowering her voice, she added.

“It seems as though last night brought us good luck.”

“We did what we had to so that fortune might smile on us.”

When he set down this conversation in his notebook a little later, Adam would comment:

I said it joyfully, and I immediately felt a pang of shame. Because the early hours had brought me other news that I had been careful not to disclose to the woman with whom I had spent the night. Obviously, I’ll have to let her know before long that our intimate “parenthesis” must come to an end. But I’m in no hurry to do so. Difficult things must be dealt with when they arise, but there’s no sense rushing to do them.

I shall do as the wisest of the Romans did long ago: I shall play for time.