In the main parlor, Honoré watches McGauran’s serious expression as he studies the book open across their laps. “This is the Congo River,” Honoré explains, leaning in closer, but not too close, and pointing to the picture of the African continent. They sit together on a divan, with a bottle of his uncle’s finest Moët et Chandon champagne at their feet. They’ve nearly finished it and he feels a bit giddy. Almost tension free. The sensation is exquisite. “The river runs across the Congo Free State.”
McGauran’s intense dark stare follows the lines on the map. “An English explorer went there.” His voice is smooth and low as a melody on the bass clef chord. “Livingstone, right?”
For the last hour, they’ve been flipping through the pages of the latest edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica and
