they all greeted him with respect. Waiters rushed over to him.
He suddenly stopped at our table and put his hand on Zuhal’s shoulder, as if I wasn’t even there, and asked: ‘How are you?’
Zuhal had sensed his arrival before I had and she knew who he was – that was all too clear. And though she didn’t look up, she blushed when she felt his hand on her shoulder.
‘Fine,’ she said, looking up.
‘You’re eating a lot. There won’t be anything left for us.’
They were roughly the same age, maybe he was a year or two older, but the self-assurance in his voice gave me the feeling that no one there could have questioned his authority; he had the air of superiority an older man shows a younger lover, almost a fatherly love.
Zuhal had just tamed a garden of savage birds with a smile but now she was a shy little girl.
‘I was hungry,’ she said, like a student giving a teacher a bad excuse.
‘Be careful now or you’ll put on weight …’
He looked me over for a moment, memorising all the details of my face and the way I looked at him. He would learn everything there was to know about me in less than five minutes, at least everything that was known about me in town.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked, after he had left, unable to conceal the distaste in my voice.
‘The mayor.’
‘Why does he treat you like you work for him?’
‘We were lovers. We met at university,’ she said, pushing her plate away.
‘And now?’
‘We’re not together any more.’
She narrowed her eyes.
‘But I’m still in love with him.’
Her frank and sudden confession was devastating; I was reduced to nothing. But then again I knew that a woman would never share such a thing with a man she’d just met unless she felt something for him. In that moment she seemed so preoccupied that she wouldn’t have noticed if I got up and left.
We were silent.
I couldn’t know what she was thinking, apparently about the man. I wanted to ask her why she’d just told me her feelings for him. A moment earlier she’d been my greatest fan. How could she betray me so suddenly?
She had stopped eating. I asked her if she was finished and she nodded. ‘I’m full,’ she said.
‘I wouldn’t take him seriously.’
‘I know. I just don’t feel like eating now. Ready to go?’
We paid the bill and left.
She walked straight out of the garden, looking down at the ground.
Not one of the men was looking at her now. It was strange. They acted like she wasn’t even there.
There was a nervous energy in the air.
VI
‘He has a heart of stone,’ she said.
Sunlight was shimmering off the train station dome, washing the street in a shower of light, the oleanders glimmering red.
I am fascinated by women. I listen to them like a treasure hunter, poring over a newly discovered map. I listen for clues between the lines, deciding which path I should take and where I should stop to rest, and where I need to dig.
But I had suddenly lost interest.
‘Are we just friends?’ I asked. ‘Telling each other love stories?’
She was silent.
I wanted to show her that I could be as rude as that man who had treated her so badly in the restaurant, and when I was there with her. I wanted her to understand that she didn’t have to allow people to get away with so much.
‘I’m in love with him but I like you too. Isn’t that possible?’
‘Of course … Why not? But I’d rather you loved me … That’s more fun. But why do you like me?’
‘Weren’t we together last night?’
I didn’t know what to say. She laughed at the confused expression on my face.
‘I was reading your novel. While you slept. So we were together in a way. I was thinking of you, thinking of you writing, wondering what kind of person you were in real life, and which characters were like you, and I was curious to know if those women were your lovers in real life. Were they?’
‘No.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘I never lie.’
‘Then you’re a real liar,’ she said, laughing.
It was like nothing had happened at the restaurant, like she’d never seen that man. Books can work miracles. They create a powerful bond between reader and writer.
‘I want to know how you make love.’
‘That’s easy enough to find out.’
‘But I’m leaving tonight.’
‘When are you coming back?’
‘I don’t know.’
I was silent, feeling the heat rising up from the streets. Little shop doors were ajar, like the entrances to dark caves. I was disappointed.
Suddenly I was a complete stranger in town, like a child dropped off at a boarding school by his mother. I thought about leaving too.
She had told me she was leaving like it was the most natural thing in the world, without hesitation, and with the intimacy of lovers. It made me feel like we would have made love that night if she didn’t have to go, and that we would when she returned. I was falling in love with a woman in love with someone else. But she was closer to me in so many ways.
‘Why is everyone so afraid of him?’
‘They think he’s had people killed.’
‘Has he?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You never asked?’
‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘He thought I was mad.’
‘And you said?’
‘Nothing.’
Now
