The professor got to his feet and addressed Joanes.
“My wife would like to be alone for a moment, if you would be so kind. Given that you cannot lend us the telephone, perhaps the least you could do is grant us this small request. We’d like to have a moment alone.”
Joanes grabbed his backpack and reluctantly got to his feet.
Some candles stuck in jars were the only form of lighting in the living room. The hotel owner had a prime position among the many people in the room — a massage chair right in front of the television. Neither, however, was working. He spent a while fiddling with the dial on the portable radio, hoping to find a station without interference, but he gave up and switched it off.
“Saves the battery,” he said.
The living room was packed. As well as the people sitting on chairs and sofas, there were dozens of others on the floor. Joanes was among them. They’d provided seat cushions to make them more comfortable, but the room was boiling, and the cushions seemed to make it even hotter. There were two babies in a little playpen. At least one of them needed a change of diaper. A huge, sourfaced woman, who was in charge of the hotel storeroom, appeared carrying bottles of water whose seals were broken and took away the empty ones. Several of the Mexican guests were nibbling on strips of jerky. Another had a guitar in his arms; he didn’t play a single note, just held it against himself tightly. Various conversations were going on at once, and Joanes only joined in when someone addressed him directly.
It was already completely dark out, and raining. Every now and then the conversations fell quiet, and then you could hear the wind. It didn’t seem to Joanes to be blowing especially hard. He’d felt stronger gales. This one wasn’t making him feel particularly vulnerable. It wasn’t really clear why they were all there, cooped up in that hotel. He had to close his eyes and do some breathing exercises to suppress the urge to go outside, get into the car, and disappear.
Another silence, longer than the previous ones, made him open his eyes. The professor was standing by the door, looking at the scene before him with a look of revulsion on his face. He made a sign to Joanes.
“May we speak a minute?”
Joanes got up and walked out, all eyes in the room on him.
He followed the professor to the lobby. They were alone. The space was being used as a storage area for all the chairs and tables that had been out in the yard earlier. The professor took two chairs and placed them next to each other. He signaled at Joanes to take a seat.
“I think you and I ought to talk things through a bit more calmly.”
Joanes sat down.
“I went too far,” began the professor, also taking a seat. “I shouldn’t have asked you for the phone in front of my wife. It was tactless, and I’m genuinely sorry. But I’m sure you understand that both my wife and I are under serious pressure. I apologize. We’re all human, right?”
He smiled at Joanes as he said this. Then he wiped his palms along his pant legs and tried to straighten out the creases, which were considerably faded from the day’s wear.
“How’s your wife?” asked Joanes.
“I gave her a sedative, and she’s sleeping a little.”
“I’ve tried to get ahold of a telephone for you, but the owner of the hotel swears the network’s overloaded. He has personally offered to lend you his phone later, once communications are back up. He promised me.”
The professor took a deep breath and slowly let the air out.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
After a pause, the professor said, “You were a student of mine.”
“That’s right.”
“Could you remind me when?”
Joanes reminded him, and the professor wrinkled his brow trying to remember.
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember you. A good number of you passed through those classrooms. I hope I didn’t make things too hard for you. I know that neither I nor my course had a very good reputation among the students.”
“I didn’t have any trouble passing. In fact, I was crazy about Numerical Analysis,” said Joanes with a sheepish smile.
“You liked it? A lot? Well. . it’s not often you hear that. Where do you work now?”
“I run my own business. Air conditioning units.”
The professor frowned.
“Air conditioning.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s your business called?”
Joanes told the professor, who shook his head.
“I’m not familiar with it.”
Joanes gave him a few more details, like the brands he used as his suppliers and the names of a few big clients — health care centers, banks, and supermarket chains, most of them from back when he’d shared the running of the business with his friend.
“Sounds like things are going remarkably well,” said the professor. “I’m really pleased for you.”
“Can’t complain.”
“I’ve never worked for myself. I imagine it must be very gratifying. Above all when business is booming.”
“Without a doubt.”
“Would you say you’re satisfied?”
There was a pause before Joanes replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t catch your drift.”
“Satisfied with your professional life. With the decisions you’ve made.”
“Of course I am. Very satisfied. I make my own decisions.”
“That’s important to you.”
Joanes gave a firm nod and added, “A lot of people would like to be in my position.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment. Especially since things are going so well.”
Joanes nodded again.
The professor removed his glasses and rubbed the lenses with his shirttail. Then, as if he were merely thinking out loud, he said, “Before, in the room, I was under the impression that you were in some sort of trouble. That is, professional trouble. Something about your insistence on keeping the phone.”
“I’m waiting for an important call.”
“Yes, that much was made perfectly clear. But when you said that it was important, I imagined it was something crucial.”
“Precisely.”
“But now you’re telling me you’re the owner of your own business, so I suppose this ‘crucial’ refers to the fact that the future of the business depends, to a great extent, on this phone call.”
Joanes didn’t say a word.
“And yet, you’ve just told me that your business is thriving.”
“I’m waiting for a call from an important client. But my business doesn’t depend on it.”
“I see. But it is sufficiently important a call for you not to lend me your phone for even a minute.”
“I’m afraid so. I have my reasons for not giving it to you.”
“I don’t doubt your reasons. I understand that in circumstances such as these, having access to some means of communication is essential. For example, to be able to get ahold of your family. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck in this place. It’s perfectly understandable that you should want to keep the phone for yourself, and only for yourself. Anyone in your shoes would do the same.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Joanes responded, although he didn’t sound convinced.
“That’s why it was wrong of me to ask you for it the way I did. In front of my wife. To submit you to that, let’s say, emotional strain. Because my wife isn’t able to rationalize the situation as I have just done, traumatized as she is just now. She wouldn’t understand your reasons.”
The professor pulled his chair in closer toward Joanes. Lowering his voice, with a complicit smile, he said, “But now, with no one around to hear us, I’m asking you again for your telephone.”