Tanjou, our good family friend and dancer-administrator of our group who went down with one of the towers that day, Our Lady of the Bags, sent flying off to the park where she used to panhandle with her Bible open on her lap and her pleated skirt, bursting out from under the piles of earth and taking up where she left off in life, a mere stone’s throw from death when everyone was swept up in the current of swirling people in the stairwells, a random stone’s throw, crushed and forgotten at the foot of the tower after spending the night in the park, she needs a park, a garden for her momentary resurrection, see Papa, everyone could appear to be taking flight through the barred windows dressed as they were that day, all of them from gaps in the windows out towards their families and their lives before the massacre, angelic yet united in one burning brazier of humanity, the music, the music would need to be a cantata, where are you Papa, in Ireland by now I guess, please write me when you arrive, your son Samuel, kisses from all of us, Rudy, Veronica, and me, you see Papa, what I want to capture is all the intensity and feverish and unquenchable thirst for life, the ineffable love that gathers and unites all those lives, Samuel who loves you, reading this message from Samuel, Daniel scolded himself for not having written these past months, as well as for his inability to follow the rather sombre path of Augustino, then there was the void at home left by Mai, and he was no longer there waiting for her to wander into his office when she came in late or fell on her skateboard or her skates, wonder what she’s doing at four in the morning, has she got back in touch with Manuel, for the longest time he’d thought of no one but Augustino and Mai, relegating Samuel to his own independent life, but he needed him too, ironically it might be Samuel, the artist and ground-breaking choreographer, who was closest to him in this kind of writing solitude, Samuel had been the first to grow up at his side amid the jumble when he was writing Strange Years, the ghost of his Great-Uncle Samuel, soul-blasted as he emerged from his snowy grave, shot dead in Poland, shot dead on his knees there in the snow, whose name Samuel now bore, his sensitivity too perhaps as he plumbed the depths of hell, Samuel’s right perhaps, we’re never just one person each, we each come from everyone, our collected experience new or old may not always have been gleaned with love, though Samuel believed it did, in fact we may even be repulsed by our first urge to belong to a single community of the living, still for Samuel to be slightly naive was normal, as was his idea of love reigning over a humanity in peril, how like a young man to think that way Daniel realized, feeling suddenly like a patriarch, what fun to get crowned Queen of Carnival Week Robbie exclaimed to Petites Cendres, they’d lowered the taxi window and had already seen the beginning of the street parade, oh boy there’s nothing you won’t see these next few days, Robbie was already wired by it all, you’re gonna see hundreds of Adams and Eves out on the sidewalks wearing nothing but a hanky, even puffy traditional couples, skinny ones, whatever, who just take it all off and dance with a hula hoop, what a gas, we’re gonna have so much fun making the rounds of the balls and masquerades and parties all day and night, watching will give you a pick-me-up Petites Cendres, such naughty wild stuff you’ll have a great time, and when I’m up on the stage with the royal family, you’ll be clapping your hands, Yinn’s going to announce what time the crowning will be and when the ball’s to begin, being the queen of the burlesque celebration isn’t that big a deal, but I, Robbie, am gonna be so proud up there wearing my crown, and Yinn says all the proceeds are going to Acacia Gardens and to medical research, it has to be a smash, you hear me Petites Cendres, the coronation and all, it’s gotta be, and it better not rain on all our nice costumes and fetishes and whatnot, that would really be a disaster, all those men and women with their bodies painted a thousand colours and all kinds of wild designs in the pouring rain like one big fish-bowl Robbie ran on, with only one parrot on her shoulder Mabel felt bad that there were so many tourists in town, though it was good for business, lemon-and-ginger-drink sales, displaying parrots, nope no longer two, one to mourn, to treasure and spoil and love, but she’d soon be getting some doves, oh Petites Cendres was going to like that if he still lived there, not sure about that though because of his health, what was this she was hearing about special care, he was lazy, that’s all, nothing wrong with him, lethargic all these months, sure, apart from that what did he have to complain about, Mabel buried Merlin in the sand at the cemetery, no crying, she couldn’t afford to stain her nice travelling dress before the trip to her daughter’s in Indiana, she’d had to bury her beloved parrot, the most beautiful imported from Brazil, killed by the Shooter, and now all she could think about was revenge if she ever caught up with him and dragged him to court, oh yes she’d avenge her beautiful bird from the tropical savannas, bloodied by that Shooter, Jerry the remaining bird on her other shoulder said are we going Mama, are we going, don’t mess up my hair she said, and don’t pull it, she felt his plumed head soft against her cheek, all right we’re going, let’s go along by the docks, still without Merlin I’d rather they didn’t have any Carnival celebrations this year, he was their favourite, the kids loved him, even the small ones, and on top of that all my boarders are going to be dead drunk tonight and throwing up all over my furniture by dawn, you’re all I’ve got now Jerry, only you, are we going Mama he said again, where’s Merlin, where’s Merlin, yep said Mabel, throw up all over the place, they won’t even remember how drunk they were, dancing the night away practically naked and probably randy as well, if only the Lord Jesus could see them, but on Carnival nights it’s like He doesn’t see a thing, no point wasting time on what goes on around here, and when these folks get back home, they’ll be oh-so-good like always, hey Jerry, remember how brilliant Merlin’s crest was, everywhere on the docks come see the one who’ll outlive me a few years, come see Merlin, yeah I laid some roses over his wings before I piled the sand on him, none left for us to sell today, at least Petites Cendres’ anonymous benefactor pays well, we don’t have to do without, do we Jerry, let’s go Mama came the reply again, always harking back to his first owner, a shrimp fisherman and captain of his own boat, Jerry couldn’t help missing those days, white as snow my parrot Jerry said Mabel, quit pulling my hair, c’mon now Jerry, you don’t want to hurt this old head of mine do you, remember the brown lines he had around his and that piercing yellow eye, Mama let’s go he said again, it’s nighttime Mama, let’s go, let’s go, yes Jerry we’re going she answered him, you know I’m going to sing in the Ancestral Choir said Mabel when Dr. Dieudonné gets back, Dieudonné man of God who never asks the poor folks for one cent though he takes care of them all, he’s getting a medal of honour from the town and Eureka’s going to conduct our Ancestral Choir, we all get to sing in her church and you Jerry are going to be right there on my shoulder, with that Shooter around we got to be careful, I’m keeping you safe with me the whole time, Merlin, Mama, Jerry suddenly stridently demanded, where’s Merlin. I’m going to tell all those musical bigwigs, those teachers on the Music Council, thought Fleur sitting on his straw mat facing the ocean, which now looked dark and threatening as night drew on, I’ll tell them sure I composed an opera when I was thirteen, like Gian Carlo Menotti, its theme was the little Hiroshima girls the way we might have heard them if they’d just sung their sadness that day on August 6, exactly, maybe they were on their way to school, none of them, no really none of them expecting what . . . singing on their way to school and still singing when, when . . . it’s a piece for children’s choir and violins, three violins, and I’ll tell them just like Gian Carlo Menotti I was thirteen when I composed my first opera, I’ve still got it in a drawer at my mother’s place, at least I used to, I hope it’s not burnt, hope my mother didn’t decide to get rid of it, no wait, the manuscript’s still intact, I remember now I moved it myself, ah how bright the stars are shining, but not aligned for all of us though thought Fleur no, but I’ll tell them, I’m sure at least one of them’s been exposed to music since he was very young and he’ll understand me, not many people around me would, yup
wrote my first opera at thirteen, just like Gian Carlo Menotti, but still the stars in the sky aren’t aligned for all of us, Ari said to Lou I prepared this vegetarian meal specially for you, why aren’t you eating it, salad, strawberries, lemonade, I thought you liked strawberries but all you do is look at me with your elbows on the table and eat nothing, now I’ve told you not to hold your fork like that, haven’t I, it’s not polite to sit at the table like that, I drank my lemonade Lou said, I can’t eat the salad and the strawberries because you told me I was a bit too tubby, I said you needed to eat healthy, not like at your mother’s, that’s what I said Lou, he replied sternly, Papa I want to tell you about a girl at school called Sophia, you have a new friend called Sophia, he asked, still discouraged by her lack of manners over his vegetarian meal, no, Lou changed her mind, no, okay then what asked Ari impatiently, what is it, no, never mind, nothing said Lou, nothing Papa, nothing, it’s nearly bedtime said Ari, time to go upstairs and go to sleep, yes Papa I know, I’ve already got my pyjamas on, she said getting up, good night Papa, you’re sure you don’t have something you want to tell me before you go to bed he asked, like you love me a bit at least, no, nothing Papa, good night, her face was so glittering sharp and cold that it worried Ari, those blue eyes under her blonde bangs, he thought, okay if your homework’s done, up you go he said, she didn’t even kiss me good night, she no longer loves me he thought to himself, must be her mother’s doing, sure it is, I thought a coffee martini was your favourite Robbie said, if I had some scissors I’d slice strips out of your jeans he told Petites Cendres, like the partygoers in the street, go ahead try your martini bro, then we’ll go find their highnesses the princesses up there attending my coronation, look every man on Earth has his hill to climb day in and day out, so you’re just going to have to do the same he said as they sipped their drinks on the terrace and looked out at the celebrations over the water, canoe races, parachutists sailing over the boats, Sea-Doos bouncing across the waves, now that’s something isn’t it said Robbie, too many people, too much noise Petites Cendres said ignoring his cocktail, okay it’s Carnival time said Robbie, what the hell universe are you living in anyway, the lower depths of limbo or something, just then Robbie had a flash of himself on this very terrace with Fatalité, though that one had been drinking his champagne too fast and laughing too much, that was his escape, but Petites Cendres didn’t even crack a smile, then Robbie saw Herman in his orange wig leaning on his cane in front of the Saloon, this was Robbie’s night, his special event, and he expected to be so very happy, he wondered about that, what was it with these sourpusses ushering in their twenty-fifth queen, he’d be swapping his paper crown for a gold one, imitation gold of course, still very impressive as it sat on his head of long brown curly hair, he was the one who’d given Herman the orange wig so no one would see how much of his red hair was gone treatments he’d had, under the wig that won’t show thought Robbie, but why were they so uptight on his special night now he’d finally become Yinn’s successor after a run of several years, though Yinn hadn’t planned it that way, he just kept getting re-elected, sort of a Queen Mother, a title customized to his own lofty beauty, now a hesitant smile surfaced on Petites Cendres’ lips, we gotta go he said, they’re waiting for us onstage, right, the royal family laughed Robbie, let’s go brother, and he took Petites Cendres’ arm, all right, let’s go. When exactly was it that Nora got the uneasy feeling he was never coming back, perhaps during their dinner beneath the gumbo tree with its sweet-smelling flowers that fell to the table while they were eating, all friends and painters and writers raising their glasses to toast the health of Nora and Christiensen, a perfect and adorable couple with such generous friends, or was it later during her nightmares that she felt it so clearly, the more she tried to pin it down the more diffuse it became, and today what struck her was the undefinable tenderness with which he embraced every one of his friends, especially the women, was that when she finally realized, or when she was alone in the car after she drove him to the airport and held him in one final long embrace, like in the old days when they were young thought Nora, the day he said your painting has sublime qualities, yes transcendent, those were his last words in the garden weren’t they, as they lingered fingers intertwined after their guests had left so they could have some time together, he’d never described any of her paintings that way before, sublime, transcendent, she’d be absolutely glowing with happiness if only he were still there by her side, if only his journey had been a different one, if only he’d been less impetuous about this mission, why are you so worried he asked her, I’ll be back in a week, and she repeated once again I have a premonition that you shouldn’t go this time, this journey was the space left for the love that would last till the end of their lives, without him there was no certainty she’d want to go on living, was it really possible for one country to contain so much war, violence, and internal divisions, oh Africa, bereft and torn Africa, no this time you mustn’t go, think of your children, you’re taking greater and greater risks, but I’m not a soldier, I’m a diplomat, an economist was Christiensen’s reply, this can’t go on, the poor are forever more destitute and it’s always the same people who have to pay, no they mustn’t, and he cast a teasing look, a slightly detached and mocking glance she could never forget, the same one he’d given her at supper as though resigned to a sudden unwished-for distance between them, even as they kissed and said goodbye at the terminal he found himself asking the same question, was his departure unexpected, yes, then was it desirable, perhaps not, the air was charged with heavy storm weather as Christiensen once more mentioned how much he liked Nora’s painting, this only confirmed the intuition, the presentiment behind Nora’s dreams and her plunge into the void of the vision, the fear was that Tangie, the little dog, like so many other animals her husband brought home, often the ugliest and least wanted, that Tangie, being a loud barker and having followed Christiensen all day, even running panic-stricken up against his legs, even after Christiensen had taken him in his arms for reassurance, this little animal too, this fluffy ball of hair standing on end, was barking and wagging his tail to express his own terror at his master’s leaving and it was so obvious, so why hadn’t he picked up on both his wife’s and his dog’s terror in the air that hung so heavily about them, yes it had to be a sign, oh why did he never listen to her, Nora had the same presentiments and premonitions as if she were an animal, despite her childhood in Africa she’d never liked animals, in fact she feared them, and when they were accepted into the house she managed to develop a subtle feminine jealousy of them, as though they’d conquered the heart of Christiensen before her, possibly the memory of hyenas pushing in the mosquito screen and killing the little monkey that slept with her younger brother, that one with its screams and howls and an unconsolable brother that made the hot air so stifling all of a sudden, that was the reason for her mistrust, even hostility towards animals, especially ugly abandoned ones like Tangie, Christiensen brought him home for her to look after, then off he went again, that was why, was it reason enough though, but how could anything be as petty as jealousy or envy, she’d always warned her youngest don’t be jealous Greta, it’s an ugly sentiment sweetheart, she looked at the dinner table beneath the gumbo tree, the silk tablecloth wrinkled in the storm, folds swelling under their coating of petals, she could still hear their friends’ voices as they raised glasses in a toast to their healths, far off the cellphone was ringing, ma’am it’s concerning your husband said a foreign male voice, please don’t be alarmed, it’s only an incident, you see your husband in his own modest way was not what you thought, that is, he was a political agitator who was visiting the ambassador for lunch at the embassy itself which is on the outskirts of town, there were no guards or security people that day however, the embassy has not been able to afford such things of late, I do apologize for burdening you with these details ma’am, there have been threats in the past and it is easy enough to get in through the rear of the building through the greenhouse nex
t to the back wall, the ambassador’s wife was once seriously wounded, your husband was here to destabilize the economy, hence his meeting with the ambassador, well, remarks were made in confidence, illegal plots, the target was the ambassador and his wife, not your husband, no, not again, not this time, what he had planned was well known, but Nora said no it’s not true, my husband wasn’t mixed up in anything secret, he talked a lot about squandered fortunes, about justice getting back on its feet, financial justice, I mean his life here with our family was an open book, yes totally open, what you don’t know, what you don’t know said the foreign voice is that your husband, your husband, well it is only an incident, now I don’t want you to be alarmed ma’am, then the voice fell silent, I’ve got to get this tablecloth cleaned up Nora thought to herself, fast, if the rain hasn’t already ruined it, I’ve got to, she froze beneath the gumbo, yes the children, I must tell them, I must, that their father had a secret life that we never suspected, their father was, no, it’s not true, he sleeps in late up there with his papers and books and things that concern him and keep him up at night, first a dip in the pool then I’ll lie down beside him the way I always do, his burning hot body, yes that’s what I’ll do she thought, yes. The whole of Samuel’s passionate future would be channelled into dance and choreography thought Daniel, his son’s future was already present, far beyond the realm of mere promise, his bold and brilliantly creative friend Arnie Graal appeared on his screen and far out beyond the airport glass and even the apparently calm skies and waters where millions of screens connected, playing or replaying all the scenes in the world, for the terminal windows saw all that he could not hide from himself, the future that belonged to all the young who had no future, legions of them without a future, Augustino among them, yes of course he was, they have no taste for weapons but theirs would have to be the art of tearing their geographic capital from the hands of despots and dictators, the art of revolution, but for many of them with souls so primal this art and philosophy would have to be studied and refined while they were still under the very perfidy of oppression Daniel realized, and the most perfidious of all was to keep them in ignorance so that they would not revolt, not be enraged, this art would have to be acknowledged, and brutal without finesse or delicacy, it would mean killing and pillaging just those who now held them down, power lying only in the knife and the revolver held to a head, yes thought Daniel, all these young people with no future would soon be engaging in the most brutal of executions, no qualms, no trials, no nuances, so pitiless towards their oppressors, just as they had been during those springs and summers of flaming revolt and ceaseless ransacking, pure they were and unalloyed in the butchery of youthful revenge, the destruction of their animals and their archaeological heritage, their attacks, the tanks of coalitions having wiping out all traces of an antiquity that mattered little to so many with no future, the Islamic art with the camels, the horses, the sheep, all of it thought Daniel, under the boots or the bare feet of the legions of the young with no future, the ragged princes of countries yet to be, built with their blood and reconquered with blood tomorrow as well, an art of revolution with no subtleties or scruples where brutality alone reigns supreme, revolutions never to be denied them, fertile in fanaticism and religion, abusive of women and children and rights and freedom of thought, oh yes thought Daniel, Mélanie might well weep beside him the night she lost her mother, almost in silence though, not for him to see, and weep she also did for the fate of women crushed beneath the weight of revolution and war, precious few were born like her to privilege and rights already won, what flaming scandal and injustice when so many other women were born without as much as the right to live, much less vote or join a feminist group or play a role in government, these women she said, oppressed by the religion of their fathers and husbands and brothers, born with only the right to be killed at their first slight mistake, such as a leaning towards freedom or loving or adultery or flouting of custom and barbaric tradition, for guilty they will soon be and no doubt punished, stoned perhaps or shot by their own fathers, brothers, friends, and by what right, what right indeed, the right to die, the right to be killed, of course, of course Mélanie’s tears that night were for them, tears falling on those who would number more and more to be spared less and less, oh yes, Mélanie cried for all of them that night, all. Well my hour of glory’s here cried Robbie to Petites Cendres as they climbed the steps to the platform above the roaring mob of Carnival Night, and look at them all here with me, though Robbie had no idea who even the closest one was because they were all disguised and masked, some with heads like birds under haloes of branches, almost a moving wood weaving its way through the streets, where are Mabel and Merlin and Jerry Petites Cendres worried, why haven’t they come to Robbie’s coronation, they should be right up front with all the other bird-handlers, I hope this isn’t going to be a letdown thought Robbie, these high heels are killing me, I can feel my ankles wobbling already, once they’re all up there Cheng’s going to dazzle everyone, the young Prince of Asia who Yinn’s been training to dance, but a modest sort of dance, subtle even austere, that’s right, that’s the way Yinn wants it, if all these kids with pierced ears gravitate towards me it’s because I’m a father figure, no, more like a brother to them Robbie reflected, quite a few have shown up to admire their mysterious Queen all aglitter for her crowning, okay let’s not get carried away, I’m a brother to them that’s all, I wonder if they notice that the pizzas are beginning to show around my waistline, Yinn’s been telling me to lay off them, of course he could eat about twenty and be just as svelte as ever, Puerto Rican big brother, that’s all I am, and tonight Queen as well, these kids still tied to their mothers’ apron strings, are usually surprised when they spend a night with me, then find themselves getting married, bunch of spoiled kids, oh well that’s life isn’t it, this is gonna be a street banquet and what a party, I think I’ll keep this mole near my lip, it’s sexy, Yinn says I’m getting sexier and sexier, yeah well, okay, like Fred, always out there onstage, yep gotta slim down a bit, you see, when Fred shakes her ass when she dances or does her rap thing she shows a little too, don’t get me wrong, she’s been a beautiful queen for quite some time and everyone respects her, specially when she tells everyone in a real haughty way that she’s not hiding a thing, no closet for her, she laughs when we clap for her too, everyone’s going to be there, even the sugar daddies that broke my heart, though I don’t want to see them said Robbie, and Petites Cendres watched them all appear on the platform in order of nobility, Yinn in his white beaded dress and heels so high he might teeter if someone brushed by too close, Yinn took the limelight of course, though Petites Cendres made like he didn’t see him, he was that weak from emotion, much as on the red sofa in the Porte du Baiser Saloon when Yinn danced all night for him alone until the greenish glow of dawn, the erotic ghost of Yinn or maybe even Yinn himself, how to tell, a ravishing dance that swallowed Petites Cendres in its slow fire, Yinn always danced slow, very slow, and there was Yinn as he guided Cheng the second Prince of Asia, Cheng was no longer called the Next One but he had some childlike skittishness under that silken outfit so Yinn’s guidance was still needed, still the master, thighs seeming even darker through the slit in the oriental dress Yinn had pulled together in a few days, Geisha and Triumphant Heart were beaming, inseparable as ever, then Know-It-All and Santa Fe with all the other princesses, then following them all, stepping gracious and slow in his orange wig with his cane beneath his wispy dress, the last of all, Herman, a few more moments and Yinn had opened the ball and crowned Robbie with gold, whispering in his ear that beauty spot on your lip, you should get rid of it, Robbie remained motionless in his regal pose, he’d soon have to say something about the recipient of the night’s proceeds, he added that he’d be visiting the orphans on Christmas night though it wasn’t in what Yinn had written for him to memorize, still he figured as Queen it was his prerogative to be Robbie the Charitable and in his magnanimity do the town proud, he’d take food baskets a
nd Christmas feasts to the families on Bahama Street, to women whose husbands were out of work, he finally realized it was time to shut up when Yinn signalled him, for never had a queen been so chatty, often all they did was let themselves be admired and bat their wild-animal lashes, then suddenly Robbie heard something weird and everyone turned to see, Herman had fallen, Yinn ran over to him and said what is this, stoned again, oh no not again, not now, Robbie’s mind was scrambled, he had a feeling something was going to rain on his parade but with crown still on his head he ran like the others to where Herman lay stretched out on the stage, wispy dress and all, his mother was there too, saying to her son sweetheart wake up, you’ve got to wake up, it all happened so fast and she asked for him to be taken to the house with a veranda she’d rented specially near the Saloon, that’s where he wanted to be she said, no hospitals, no nothing, just his mother, brother, and sister in their little rented house so close he could walk to work at night, he’d thought of everything and told his mother, now Robbie with the crown still on his head found himself with all the other queens of bygone years and princesses of tonight and Yinn in his white dress and high heels in the rented room where Herman was to breathe his last, though they were not to know this yet, all they knew was that he was stoned, absolutely stoned as Yinn said but in fact his heart was stopping, and Yinn said if he knew that was going to happen when he got stoned, so be it, that’s the way he wanted it, that’s right said his mother, that’s what he wanted, though she hoped against hope he’d come out of the coma, probably the only one who knew in advance, she knew her son that well, she’d even asked her other children to get coffee and tea ready just in case, sandwiches too, she’d thought of everything, expecting friends to be in the house, in a sense it was for this night that she’d rented it, words, what words, forget about words, especially final night, party night, coronation, thought Herman’s mother, not last, no, not a last evening, not a last night, then in an instant the rented house was filled, an army of friends invading first the veranda then the small living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom, if Herman had known he’d’ve been delighted to see all these people around his bed, why such a small one, well it was a child’s bed and Herman filled it completely, leaving him on his own like that, so very far away and totally stoned thought Robbie as he sat on the bed energetically rubbing and massaging Herman’s icy and inert hands, Geisha, Santa Fe, Triumphant Heart, Know-it-All trapped in a whirlpool of vertigo and looking at Herman in bewilderment, what just happened they murmured, tears and mascara running down their cheeks, then Yinn took them to one side and said we have to revive him, we’ve got to, we simply have to, he jumped on Herman’s chest and began pressing as forcefully as he could with his hands, pushing and pushing with his palms till he was exhausted, no breath came from Herman’s mouth, nothing, not a whisper, and Robbie’s loud sobbing broke the silence, no Yinn said, think of his mother and brother and sister, I’m choked up Robbie said, then he sobbed louder than ever, he can’t do this to us, no he can’t, he really cannot, you’d think he was an angel thought Petites Cendres, for the panels of his dress were raised up around his thin body and creased sharply from the weight and the pressure of Yinn’s fingers, so they looked like the wings of an angel or a giant bird, now if it was me with Yinn’s fingers sliding across my chest I’d wake up just like that thought Petites Cendres darkly, oh I feel it already, and where is Herman going like this, but with Yinn, ah Yinn, what sort of angel are we talking about, the angel of life or of . . . no, no it was the angel of life, sure, it’s this idiot Herman who refuses to wake up, Herman whose mother was saying to them all, no, let’s not disturb him anymore, it’s useless she said as she moved closer to the bed and stroked her son’s forehead, good night my little boy, good night, then a moment later Robbie placed his gold crown on the pillow next to the bony head now that Yinn had carefully removed the orange wig that framed the hollow cheeks, so ascetic-looking now, Yinn and Herman’s mother weren’t crying, no, it was as though the need for rigour had taken hold of them for this contained ritual that would keep them by Herman’s bedside for a few hours yet thought Petites Cendres, perhaps till dawn. Surely the most discreet of his sons had to be Vincent, Daniel reflected, it was he who soon would be curing, consoling, and alleviating pain, but first he must conquer his own acute crises and physical hurt before he was ready to care for others, his latent suffering, his shortness of breath, but the son he’d once thought was not long for this world had doggedly made it through school and would soon be conducting research with the same determination, he with the worst prognosis was the most vibrant of Daniel’s sons, the most confident in the gift he’d been given, treasuring every second, and the most grateful to his parents for having saved his life so often, certain of a future honourably fulfilled, odd that it should be so, we would never have guessed, Daniel thought how little we really know our own children, that was when he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder, whew at last we’re leaving said Laure, aha you didn’t hear them announce it did you, we’re leaving in a few minutes, like all those people perched on uncomfortable chairs watching football on multiple screens, Daniel found his way back out of a deep dream, got up and stretched his legs, nope didn’t hear a thing he told Laure, it’s time to board she said, friendly all of a sudden, what a pleasure it was meeting you, actually you’ve been very patient with me, perhaps we’ll meet again some day, yes perhaps indeed said Daniel with that same spontaneous warmth that one can muster for a stranger, still his gaze wandered far off, towards a young man in a black suit being escorted without handcuffs by two customs officers and two policemen, he was piously leafing through a book he held in his hands, but no he would not be getting on the plane, not this plane, not this passageway, he was tall and thin with an expression that seemed fixed but harmless and he dared not make the slightest movement without being squeezed in even tighter, Daniel thought this was Lazaro but was he sure it was Jermaine’s childhood friend, the one Olivier had rightly worried about, he’d been suspected of violent crimes, or maybe it was the bunch he hung out with that committed such heinous acts, maybe not, perhaps Daniel was wrong and they faintly resembled one another, sure, that could well be, Kim gathered up her backpack and told Max to follow, each one of us going off alone into the night she thought, the sea was rumbling under a starry sky, sure, each one alone, she with her dog to watch out for her but each one alone, well tomorrow she’d see Fleur on the Old Salt’s boat, yes she would, wouldn’t she.
Nothing for You Here, Young Man Page 5