My veal kidneys and his lamb chops arrived. I hesitated before digging in. To my great surprise Mathieu had picked up his knife and fork as if they were weapons.

“Ah! No reason to stop eating . . . It’s such a relief to talk, now my appetite’s back.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t dare tell Mathieu it was impossible for it to have happened out of the blue, with no warning, that he must have given it some thought, had secret desires since childhood which he still refused to acknowledge. I’ve had so few problems coming to terms with what I am, it’s hard for me to understand the development of those others, so many of them, for whom sexual choice was a Calvary, sometimes long and painful. And so often disastrous.

I’ve met lots of married men—the bushes on Mont Royal are full of them from May to November—but none, I think, with Mathieu’s honesty. The duplicity of some so-called bisexuals makes me sick; too often it reeks of a conspiracy of misogyny on the part of those men, a fear of the truth, a sort of bitterness because of what they haven’t been able to come to grips with. The openness of Mathieu, who didn’t hesitate to turn his life upside down when the first signs of his new sexuality appeared, filled me with admiration. What courage it must have taken to confess everything, and to assume the consequences . . . And what a shock for his wife! I didn’t dare mention her again during dinner. Better let things develop gradually. I was convinced now that I’d have the pleasure of seeing Mathieu again, and the prospect made me very happy.

I also tried not to think about the child too much.

Just before dessert, Mathieu asked me with a big grin:

“Are you going to run away now like you did the first time?”

“How about a nightcap?”

It was an unoriginal but always effective way to find out if someone wants the evening to go on . . .

“No thanks, I have to work tomorrow. Actually my ­vacation starts Friday but I won’t be all around all that much . . . I bought a pass for the film festival, so I’ll be in the dark for ten days—from morning till night.” This relationship was definitely getting off to a bizarre start: if I wasn’t shying away then he was doing a disappearing act. Without ­thinking I replied, though it was an outright lie:

“Funny, I’ve been thinking of doing that too!”

Was I checking to see if he really wanted to see me again, or just playing games? I really don’t know. But as it turned out, he was thrilled. Fortunately.