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to do with a violinist who Karel mentored for a while; a somewhat pudgy young man who was self-conscious about his weight. This violinist volunteered to play for Přem at night but couldn’t stay awake. At around six in the morning, Karel found the young man passed out in the second-floor bathtub with leeches writhing all the way up to his chin. Alive, fortunately, and later, the young man told a story (of sorts) about Přem “bringing the leeches because he knew I wanted to be skinny. He said it was the easiest way.” But Karel insisted this was “largely untrue,” whatever that means, and the violinist stopped telling his Přemysl tale once Karel threatened to sue. We’ll just have to shrug about that incident.

So far I have not been fair to Přem. As you will have seen for yourself, he was a great comfort to his father. His manner improved as he got older; at various points over the two decades I was in contact with him, I observed that he was getting kindlier, possibly sadder. He wasn’t musical, but I know that he pursued the visual arts with quite a lot of energy. I’ve heard quite confused descriptions of a series of “white paintings” he produced, but never saw one. And then he burned them all.

Before that there was a row about being cut out of the will, of course, but I’m not so sure it was about the money and property. I was there with Karel in his study. Přem came in with a contract for Karel to sign, threw the contract down, and said: “Change the will.”

Karel looked at him very coldly and asked what change Přem wished him to make.

“Leave it all to me. Your estate, or whatever it’s called.”

Karel snorted, but Přem said it again. “Leave it all to me. Unless … unless you think Ava’s right?”

Ava, you will have to refer to whatever argument/s you may have had with Karel and/or Přem here … I was hoping Karel would say something that hinted at it, but he just continued glaring until Přem said: “So I have to die when you die, do I?”

Karel looked at me and told Přem to be quiet. Ordinarily that was enough; with Přem, Karel’s word was law. But this time Přem went on. “It’s always like this … Why is it always … you will leave me, Ava will leave me …”

Then Karel, mainly to stop Přem talking, I think, said that he was arranging things like this for Přem’s sake. He spoke with his eyes on the contract Přem had brought in, turning pages and checking them before signing. He told Přem he mustn’t look for a replacement, especially not in you, Ava.

“You have to try to be on your own.”

I just stared down at the document the whole time; I had an idea that if I looked up, Přem would start talking about giving me a present again. You see, the worst of it was that I did want it—the present he said he had for me. He’d offered it seventeen years before and had shown me nothing but politeness after I’d turned him down, but I thought about it every day—a few times a day, actually—I should have accepted his gift—why was I so frightened of it? Now that I’m fairly certain he and I won’t meet again, I can admit that I behaved somewhat awkwardly in Přem’s company because I couldn’t quite trust myself not to catch at his sleeve and ask for my present. An old biddy like me pawing at a strapping young man like him …

Anyway, Přem didn’t speak to me that afternoon. Karel told him he had to try to be on his own, and he said something to the effect of “Karel, I will try to let go of her, but if I can’t, it’s not my fault.” Then he picked up the contract Karel had signed and left.

Karel told me he didn’t come home that night. The next bit of news I heard about Přem was that he’d moved out of Karel’s house. They reconciled, or seemed to, about a year later, after Karel collapsed. Přem donated his kidney and was at home with Karel again for a while—they may have had “bad” nights again, because Karel couldn’t play for Přem, and you’d stopped coming. This is inference, though, not anything I heard. You do have to wonder about his nights after he left Karel’s house; I’m sure someone fitting Přem’s description has left the good people of Dulwich with many a weird tale to ponder. Then, five months or so after Karel’s transplant, there was Přem’s art fire. And now … I suppose if there is anything more to know about Stojaspal, we have to wait for your birthday.

That said, I don’t believe Přemysl will intervene in the matter of this inheritance, Ava. He stated an intention not to trouble you—at least that’s what it sounded like to me. You’ve spent nights with him and been fine, so there isn’t anything he can do to you now.

Write me back soonest.

With love,

Zeinab

15.

OTTO SHIN

Hi Ava,

I can’t provide as much of a profile of your Přemysl as Allegra and Ms. Rashid have. I say “your Přemysl,” because isn’t he yours? Or didn’t he want to be? It sounds to me like he was captivated by that treating-him-as-if-he-was-literally-nothing approach, and he went along with it as a way of ingratiating himself with you. Ah, true romance! (I have to get back at you a bit for saying that about me and X.) But seriously. You don’t mention your Přem contacting you. I mean e-mails, phone calls, etc. Though actually if I were him, I’d probably stop short of sending “hello, I exist” e-mails too. Denying that you’re a hipster makes you a hipster, and claiming that you exist means you don’t.

I can make the claim for him, though. Přem exists. Existed? I saw