Un Souvenir d'Événements

Patience

Something I would swiftly come to learn was that Nadir had seemingly infinite patience.

In some situations, it was a blessing for me to have someone who had the patience to listen me and my troubles, but in other situations- speaking from the present day- it was far beyond any curse that could be bestowed upon me.

This man is stubbornly patient; he will wait for me to emerge or make a movement that he can track. Trying to come and go from my own home is a matter of supreme espionage rather than a given right for me. He knows most of my activities and movements, but not all, he could never know all of them. In fact, it never fails to be endlessly amusing for me to infuriate him, I would go as far as to call it a grand achievement should I manage to make his face burn red with barely contained anger.

In this moment though, it was the first time I had ever experienced his godlike patience. I would glance at him from time to time only to find him sat watching me with a patient and comforting smile.

Had I ever experienced what it meant to have a father I would have made a comparison to his infinite patience and warming smile. In many ways he did care for me, trying to prevent me from landing myself in all manner of situations, few of them being beneficial to me. But he wasn't a father, if anything he was a brother to me, he still is, even if he is quite possibly the most infuriatingly persistent man I've ever met in my life, and that is not a title to wear with pride my friend, know that. Alas, I digress.

Both of us sat in silence for a long time, though I would not describe it as awkward or uncomfortable, it was the opposite. He seemed to understand, perhaps because we had met fleetingly in the past, but I could sense that he knew that what I was about to tell him was difficult for me to converse openly about.

Eventually however, I did speak, and he gave me his full attention, his patience never faltering.

"I remained in the fair for many years after you left. In fact I made my escape only a few years ago."

Nadir looked shocked. I watched him as he tried to comprehend what I had just told him. After some time, I heard him say in a voice little above a whisper, "how did you escape?"

I'd vowed never to tell a soul what I'd done to that man, but the unmistakable sound of guilt in Nadir's voice made me begin to question whether I should break my vow.

He blamed himself, it was obvious. He'd been a child at the time, barely older than me, yet because he hadn't saved me, he blamed himself for what dark fate had befallen me since he left. I didn't blame him, I never had, nor will I ever blame him for what happened to me, how could I? It was no fault of his! Yet in that moment, I saw before me a man so weighed down by guilt that it almost broke my heart. But could I tell him the truth?

No, I'll admit, I did not trust him, not then; but that being said, I didn't wholeheartedly trust anyone. He worked for the Shah, what would happen if that man found I had killed in cold blood? It was dangerous enough for me to accept to accompany him to Persia, let alone admit to him that I had murdered another man, surely I would be put to death on the spot, would I not?

Then a second question arose, who was to say that this man would say a thing about it? And if he went to say anything, I knew I could keep him silent.

"How did you escape?" His repeated but gentle question made me realise that I had been silent for some time. I looked up, knowing I had to make my decision now.

"I..."

Why were my words failing me now?
He looked expectantly at me, I felt my heart skip a beat.

"I- To- To escape I... It happened so quickly-"

I shall never forget that silence. It was perhaps the loudest sound I had ever heard, louder than any crescendo or fortissimo in an opera piece. It made my ears ring and the ghost of the child that lived within this shell of a man wished to reach his hands up and cover his ears to stop the noise.