It was the first time a man had visited Sofia in the apartment. ‘I’d like him to come up. Is that okay?’ she asked, nodding as if encouraging Behnaz to agree.
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘Well,’ said Daniel, when he came to the door and saw Sofia’s swollen eyes and tear-stained face.
‘Mrs B got a bit emotional,’ she offered.
‘Doesn’t look like she was the only one.’
‘It’s been an emotional time. Come and sit with me by the window,’ Sofia said, leading him out to the covered balcony and the two cane chairs, only to realise for the first time how small the balcony and the chairs were. As he took the seat opposite her, Sofia watched him trying to adjust the cushion at the back to find more room on the chair. ‘Here,’ she said, holding out her hand, ‘give that to me.’ Pulling the cushion out from behind him, Sofia put it on the floor beside her chair.
‘So this is where you live,’ he said, looking around.
Following his gaze, she tried to see the familiar space as a stranger would. It probably looked small and shabby. ‘Yep, this is my home … was my home.’
‘And that’s the window escape route,’ he said, nodding toward the kitchen. ‘And that must be the infamous cupboard.’
‘Yep.’
‘On the strength of what I’m seeing, it’s probably a good thing you’re leaving.’ He relaxed back in the chair as best he could, watching her.
‘You’ve heard?’ she said.
‘You just said “was my home”. Past tense. Your landlord also told me, along with a few interesting theories about who might want to shoot Jabril.’
‘Any of those to do with Massoud?’
‘Not a one.’
‘I suppose he can’t do much, can he, considering Massoud’s his boss? Did he tell you that both Jabril and Behnaz were getting threatening notes?’
‘Surprisingly,’ he said, not looking surprised at all, ‘he didn’t mention them.’
‘We’re not sure if the messages were meant for Jabril or both of us, but the chief ’s pretty adamant I have to leave ASAP in case I’m the next target. Maybe it would also be better to try to sort out the visa thing back in Sydney, although if it’s Massoud then we all know I’m not ever coming back.’
‘Unless something happens to Massoud.’
‘Now that’s a happy thought,’ she said, trying to smile.
Daniel moved around in the chair, trying to make himself comfortable before crossing his legs. ‘I’m pushing for this study, which is looking more viable every day. If they can finger Massoud he’ll probably, at least, be forced to leave the government, and you might get your visa back.’
‘They’re big ifs. God, Daniel,’ she said dragging her hands down her face, ‘I’ve no idea what I’m going to do back in Sydney.’
‘You’re going to make a new life for yourself,’ he offered, sitting forward in the chair.
‘It’d be really good if someone could tell me what this new life looked like because I’ve absolutely no idea.’ She hated how sorry for herself she sounded but there was no getting around it, she was.
‘I know it’s hard to start again when you’re feeling like you’ve lost everything, but you will. You must. Life moves on.’
‘Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.’ Sofia watched him shrug. He was not going to elaborate. She wondered if she would ever really know Daniel Abiteboul. ‘Clementine came to see me this afternoon and said I needed to ask you about something. She was pretty cryptic, but apparently it has something to do with your wife.’ Sofia had been watching Daniel closely and saw his body stiffen, his jaw tense. So it was true, she thought. He has a wife. She didn’t need to know any more. ‘I’ve got no idea what that has to do with me. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry I said anything.’
‘She told you about Amahoro?’
‘No, she just mentioned you had a wife and how she was sorry, and how she owes you, and thinks it might help to talk with me, which is ridiculous. God knows how talking with me is supposed to help you with your wife.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘My wife’s dead, Sofia. She died a long time ago, but both Clem and I carry guilt over her death. I lost Amahoro –’
Sofia held up her hand. ‘You don’t have to tell me. I seriously don’t need to know.’
‘But you do. I wanted to tell you way back in the village. Amahoro, my wife, was pregnant with our first child when she was killed in a car accident, and Clem, who grew up with Amahoro, was driving. It should have been me but I’d said I had too much work, so Clem took Amahoro for her check-up.’
She could see the pain that talking about his wife’s death elicited. She wanted so badly to put her arms around him but had no idea whether it would be welcome. ‘Oh, Daniel, I’m so, so sorry.’
‘It’s the connection Clem and I’ll always have, our shared guilt, I suppose, over Amahoro’s death. I wished I’d been driving the car and she wished she hadn’t. Neither of us blamed the other. We blamed ourselves. After it happened I thought I’d never be happy again. I didn’t just lose my wife and our child, I lost the life we had together and the one we dreamed of creating. Like you, I couldn’t see a future back then, but I promise you there is one. This life I have now isn’t the one I imagined when I was thirty, but it’s a good life and, despite everything, I fell in love again. You’ll create another one too, Sofia. It just won’t be the one you’ve been imagining for the last five years.’
‘It all makes my being upset about going back to Australia seem pathetic.’
‘Absolutely not. No one should compare their pain to another’s. Pain is pain. Grief is grief. Yes, mine was bad, but even back then I
