I listened and said nothing. There was no point in saying that I did not know who Frank was, that I did not know that Pablo had had a lover who had died of AIDS. In a few seconds on that patio as we waited for Mart and Pablo to return from the hospital, a whole new explanation for things came into my mind. It seemed odd, if Pablo did not want me to know about what happened before he left California, that he had not asked Jack and Mart to say nothing about Frank. Maybe he did want me to know, but he could not find a way of telling me himself. Maybe he had just decided not to think about it. This would be more like him, but since I was suddenly unsure that I knew him at all, I could not say. I decided not to let Jack know that all this was news to me.

“I think meeting you was really good for Pablo,” Jack said. “I think he felt that he would never be able to have another relationship. We thought he was crazy to come back here, but maybe it was for the best. I’m glad we came down, if only it was to see that he’s all right. I just hope that Mart doesn’t have to be flown out of here in a coffin.”

I wondered what Frank looked like. I imagined someone blond and sun-tanned and skinny. I pictured his hairless torso, his curly hair, his white teeth. I tried to picture him sick, his body emaciated, his skin dry and drawn, but I could not. I could only see him as beautiful. I knew too that nothing in Pablo’s background had prepared him for caring for a lover who was dying; his parents had trained him to be a pillar of society in certain suburbs of Buenos Aires, to marry, to look after a business, to have children, to let his wife take care of them, to maintain a steely distance from the world. I wondered if he was sick. I tried to think about medicines he had been taking but I could think of nothing. I believed that everything we had done together had been safe, but nonetheless I felt afraid.

I was at the door looking out for them when they came back. I had been down to the water’s edge, I had stared out at the huge expanse of calm that was the bay, I had watched the light fading. I opened the passenger door of the car and helped Mart out.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He drew blood, and thinks I might have an infected line, but he won’t know for certain until tomorrow. He’s a nice guy. He took a real shine to Pablo, but I think he’s straight.”

Mart walked into the living room and lay down on the sofa.

“He says everyone has to be real good to me, do everything I say.”