“Before he died, Jean-Christophe wrote to me. He told me that he had been in love with a woman, but that it wasn’t reciprocated.”

“To love and not be loved in return is the fate of many.”

“Be serious, please.”

“Sadly, I’m being completely serious.”

“Did you know about it?”

“Jean-Christophe talked to me about it, yes.”

For some unknown reason, Graff, my mentor, the most tactful and generous person I had ever known, had been fond of Zélie Bookmans.

“Do you know who the woman was?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“You’re starting to get on my nerves.”

“That’s the second time someone has said that to me today.”

“And I fear it won’t be the last.”

“So who was this woman?”

“If Jean-Christophe chose not to tell you, I hardly think it is my place to do so.” She sighed.

She was right, and it saddened me. But I knew why he hadn’t told me.

“He was being discreet.”

“Well, then, respect his discretion.”

“I’ll give you three names and you can tell me if they’re all wrong, okay?”

“Let’s not play games. Don’t sully the memory of the dead.”

But I knew Zélie would not be able to resist my game; for a few short minutes, it would give her power over me.

True to form, as she slipped on her jacket, she changed her mind about answering me. “If you were to suggest a name, who would be first on your list?”

The first name was obvious. “It wasn’t my mother, was it?”

“No! Where do you get such ideas?” She started down the steps from the stage.

“Was it you?”

She laughed nervously. “I would have been flattered, but no.”

As she reached the door, she turned. “Close the door on your way out.” A malicious smile played on her lips. I had one last chance.

“Was it Vinca?”

“Game, set, and match to me. Bye-bye, Thomas!” she said and stalked out of the lecture hall.

6.

I stood on the stage before an invisible audience. The door next to the blackboard was still ajar. I vaguely remembered that it led to a room we called the sacristy. I pushed open the door and saw that little had changed. It was a large, low-ceilinged space that served a variety of functions—rehearsal area, prop room, records office.

At the far end of the room was a set of metal shelves groaning with boxes and files. Each box was labeled with a school year. I went back to the year 1992–1993. Inside, there were flyers and posters and a large Moleskine notebook detailing ticket sales for the various shows and listing sets, props, and costumes.