The Zahir

"Reviewing history's a great idea, that's the only way you can make things change."

"Very clever, but I'd prefer to leave philosophical discussions to one side for the moment. I'm sure that, like all young men, you hold in your hands the precise formula for putting the world to rights. However, like all young men, you will one day be as old as me and then you'll see that it's not so easy to change things. But there's no point talking about that now. Can you grant me that favor?"

"I must first ask you something: Did she say goodbye?"

"No."

"Did she say she was going away?"

"No, she didn't. You know that."

"Do you think that, given the kind of person Esther is, she would be capable of leaving a man she had lived with for more than ten years without first confronting him and explaining her reasons?"

"That's precisely what I find most troubling. But what are you getting at?"

The conversation was interrupted by Roberto, who wanted to know if we were ready to order. Mikhail asked for a Napolitana and I told Roberto to choose for me--this was hardly the moment to be worrying about what I should eat. The only thing we needed urgently was a bottle of red wine, as quickly as possible. When Roberto asked me what sort of wine and I muttered an inaudible reply, he understood that he should simply leave us alone and not ask me anything else during lunch, but take all the necessary decisions himself, thus leaving me free to concentrate on my conversation with the young man before me.

The wine arrived within thirty seconds. I filled our glasses.

"What's she doing?"

"Do you really want to know?"

It irritated me to receive a question in response to mine.

"Yes, I do."

"She's making carpets and giving French lessons."

Carpets! My wife (ex-wife, please, do try and get used to it), who had all the money she could possibly need, had a degree in journalism, spoke four languages, was now obliged to making a living weaving carpets and giving French lessons to foreigners? I must get a grip on myself. I couldn't risk wounding the young man's male pride, even though I thought it shameful that he couldn't give Esther everything she deserved.

"Please, you must understand what I've been going through for the last year or more. I'm no threat to your relationship with Esther. I just need a couple of hours with her, or one hour, it doesn't matter."

Mikhail appeared to be savoring my words.

"You haven't answered my question," he said, with a smile. "Do you think that, given the kind of person Esther is, she would leave the man of her life without at least saying goodbye and without explaining why?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why all this stuff about 'she left me'? Why do you say, 'I'm no threat to your relationship with Esther'?"

I was confused. I felt something like hope stirring inside me--not that I knew what I was hoping for or where that hope had come from.

"Are you telling me that..."

"Exactly. I'm telling you that she hasn't left you or me. She has just disappeared for a while, possibly forever, but we must both respect that."

It was as if a bright light were suddenly shining in that pizzeria, a place that had always brought me good memories and good stories. I desperately wanted to believe what the young man was saying; the Zahir was now pulsating all around me.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes, I do. But even though I miss her as much as you do, I must respect her silence. I fi

nd this whole situation as confusing as you do. Esther may have found satisfaction in the Love That Devours, she might be waiting for one of us to go and find her, she may have met a new man, or she may have withdrawn from the world altogether. Whatever the truth, if you do decide to go and find her, I can't stop you. But, if you do, you must know one thing: you must find not only her body, but also her soul."

I felt like laughing. I felt like hugging him, or possibly killing him--my emotions changed with startling speed.

"Did you and she..."