CHAPTER 44 – ADAM
WARSAWShe took him gently by the elbow and led him in the direction of the dimly lit room. It wasn’t clear whether this was altogether a wise idea, but Joanna had told him that there was no real alternative. The woman sitting among the four walls at the end of the corridor had spent half of her life awaiting his return. Half a life. He somehow couldn’t equate those three words with his own person. Had he ever meant that much to anybody?
Perhaps to Celia, but to Celia he had always been an idea, the embodiment of a very different boy who had grown into a disappointing adult. Through him, she mourned her own child. Here was somebody who yearned for the real him.
Over coffee that morning Joanna pressed her own hand into his, so hard that her nails dug into the back of his
