The Fugitivities, стр. 81

sleep. He opened a page in his travel journal and started writing a long letter to Arna. When he looked up, pale dawn was already in the window. He went down into the waking streets and made his way to the only internet café he knew in the old city, hurrying in case Laura decided to come early. He wanted to check his mail and look up as much useful information as he could find about Buenos Aires. He wondered how Octavio was doing. There had been no word since his arrival in Montevideo.

His inbox was overflowing, mostly with the usual spam. There were several emails from his mother and one from his father but he did not want to deal with anything from his parents right then, and he did not open them. More pressingly there was an email from Nate and an email from Isaac. With a sinking heart, he saw that Arna had not written him back.

Jonah considered writing her a brief note. He opened Isaac’s email instead.

Sorry to break the news this way, man, but I’ve had to make some choices. With the way things are I’ve come to the decision that New York just isn’t for me. I haven’t told you about everything that’s gone down at the school but suffice to say I’m done with that. I’m just not happy in the work, and everything with the shooting and the protests and all the crazy shit that’s popping off in this city—I’m done with it, man. I don’t want no part of it anymore. Also I’ve been talking for a while now with this sister I met online. She’s from Atlanta, works for this label down there and she’s been trying to get me to come down and see her for like forever, and last week while the shit was hectic I decided to take off and see her. And, you know, she’s right. It’s beautiful in the ATL. Reminds me of home, except the music scene is off the charts right now. A nigga could really get somewhere if he put his mind to it and had the right connections, and I’m feeling like I want to give this music shit a real chance. It’s always been something I’ve loved and I feel like I have what it takes to do well in the business, especially right now, working with artists, scouting talent, maybe even producing records. So, I know this is kinda sudden, but I’ve decided to move down there. I’ve already put in notice at work. Lease is up soon, and the demand is so high here—I’ve talked to the management and they can’t wait to get rid of my black ass. Not sure when you’ll be back, but the one thing I wanted to touch base about is these letters, man. Your French girl been sending you mad longhand correspondence. I know you’ll want those so I was thinking I would forward them to your place in Paris. So, send me your address when you get this. Hope all is well otherwise with you. I’ll miss our times hanging out, man, I really will. But when you get your shit together, come on down to the real South America to see a brotha. You’ll always have a place to stay with me. And I can show you a good time too. There’s a whole world down there y’all don’t know nothing about.

—Isaac

Thus he learned the friendship he had made in New York was dissolving. There should have been nothing terribly dramatic about it. It was, from a certain point of view, logical and maybe even predictable. Friends moved from city to city all the time, and people held on to friendships as they could. And yet the news brought a rush of sadness to his chest. He reread the email, stunned, and then sent a brief reply saying how cool it was to hear about the move, and that he was excited for him. He gave his coordinates in Paris and hit send. Caught in a blank anger, he went to sign off when he realized he hadn’t checked the note from Nate. To his dismay, the missive was fraternal and warm, and it struck like a dagger.

Good brother,

I was thinking about you again today and wondering when you might be coming back. I don’t know if you’ve heard about the shooting and the protests in the city, but you’ve been missing out on some amazing stuff. Folks are mad as hell and taking it to the streets in ways I haven’t seen since like the seventies. I know a smart young cat like yourself could be involved in it. I wish I could be, but honestly, I’m too old for this mess. Besides I got my hands full with my after-school ball program and all that. My offer still stands—would love to have you up here working with me. It could even turn into like an internship, a hoops fellowship. Kinda like the sound of that! Are you still in Montevideo? I can’t lie, I do still wonder sometimes if she’s really out there. I gotta stop with these fantasies. But what can we do? It’s like Janet says, that’s the way love goes…

—Nate

Jonah felt his head spin. He knew he had to tell Laura to leave Salvador. He had to give her Nathaniel’s letter. And he knew that as soon as he did, he would have to leave Montevideo.

Back in his room at El Vasco, he packed his things. Nathaniel’s letter had gotten slightly crumpled in his bag. The envelope had not been sealed, and the fold lay flattened on its back, revealing a bit of paper marked with Nathaniel’s handwriting. With a flush of shame, he pulled it out. There it was, his silent travel companion. He nervously unfolded the paper.

Dear Laura,

I’ll start this the only way I know how. I don’t know if you will ever get this letter. Probably not. In a way, it’s as