It had been a miracle that he had heard Arabic so soon. But it was to be his undoing. Because anyone who spoke Arabic knew what Algeria was. He had been seduced and rightfully betrayed by his own need for the comfort of being understood. He remembered how each time he had tried before, he had gotten a little closer. First, he tried to get on the boat by delivering a pizza, and they laughed him off the ship. Then, his brother rowed him to the ship anchored offshore, not right at the dock but still in the harbor, and he successfully hid, but he was deceived by the boy, now dead. This time, he had gotten all the way to Boston, only to be taken to the police by an Egyptian couple he had thought were his salvation. What would become of him? He would be deported. And where would he wind up? Home. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be there; in this moment, he wanted nothing more. But the years had taught him that at home he would be having the same kind of conversation he was having this minute, only with different people. He had skedaddled and twisted and been lucky all the times that were possible and allotted to him back home. But with this couple, in their den with its silver lamp and white sofa, there was the possibility, however remote, of a right answer.

“I will tell you honestly, I do not know what I did or did not tell your husband because I have been out of my mind, too sick to know who I was or where I was. And you have been so kind as to take pity on me. But I am not Moroccan. I am Algerian.”

“You act like a Moroccan. I have known many Moroccans,” the wife said, still tense but less so.

“Yes, he is just like a Moroccan,” the Egyptian said soberly.

“You could have said anything, the shape you were in,” she added. “Those feet! I must bandage those feet before we take you to your friend.”

She got up. Aziz made a step as if to leave the den.

“Sit down,” she said. “Sit down.”

He edged onto the sofa.

She bent over. She squatted. Aziz felt he had one smile left. But she did not even see it. She was intent on his socks. For some of the seconds while she pulled on them, he was sure he would scream. He closed his eyes, and then he was steady.

Chapter 3

3