And there it was, his scorn had been cranked up, the real Luc was back. He’d been rejuvenated in two minutes, he’d lost his pallor, only the wrinkles remained and they were there for good.

Mathieu returned with the sweatshirt he’d been wearing the night we met.

Luc got up from his chair.

“So you’re the one . . .”

“Right . . . It brought me luck. I was wearing it when I met Jean-Marc . . . I hope you didn’t spend too much time ­looking for it . . .”

“At first, yes, but I couldn’t remember where I’d left it . . .”

“I remember, you were bragging that I was your third ­conquest that weekend so I took off pretty fast, before we went to bed . . .”

Luc went pale, but only slightly. I could have kissed Mathieu. There’s nothing Luc hates so much as being caught in a lie.

And I confess I was a little relieved that he didn’t really think Mathieu was a lousy lay.

Luc stayed for another half-hour, either to prolong the unease that had settled over the balcony since Mathieu’s arrival (that was his style) or, worse, not to give Mathieu the impression that he was chasing him away. So I took on the burden of the conversation. It wrung me out. I looked like a nerd sitting there between the two of them, talking to each one in turn, with each one answering in monosyllables, like pouting children. We sat there in a tidy row, with our feet on the railing, and my head turning towards first one, then the other, like a weather-vane.

Infantile.

Luc finally got up, scratching his crotch. The goodbyes were chilly; I don’t think Luc and Mathieu even looked each other in the eye. Luc didn’t leave with his signature “Let’s have lunch,” which used to give us such a laugh when we were living together and which we’d hung on to as a private code. He set off in search of other adventures without looking back, an exaggerated sway in his walk, sure of the effect he was making, insolent even from the back.

We ate our shrimp salad almost in silence. I don’t think we were ready yet to talk about the weekend that was ­coming to an end.

And I confess that as far as I was concerned, the child plus the talk of AIDS were a lot for one weekend!