The Spy

His name, if he has one, is not revealed.

He imagines himself in a pair of affluently wrinkled linen pants lying on a sun cot, drinking orange juice and gin. If he could just rinse his mouth with a martini, his name would come to him. But the beach lingers in his thoughts, and he can’t quite utter his name. He is in fact standing in a crowded casino.

He turns to ask a tightly tailored man next to him a question, just to pass the time. “And you are from Japan?”

“Yes, Kyoto,” the man replies.

The casino is writhing and twisting with distrust, hushed by the politely revoked screams of quiet women who gossip and smell good and fill the room if only to decorate it.

“What do American men do here? Oh, what do they do?” asks the man from Japan. “Are you American?”

But the man who cannot remember his name is only thinking to himself.

When can I go home to my stale carpet and my wife’s dress shop bills and our compactly lit children, behaving and afraid? When can I go? Bauxite, they keep telling me. Bauxite.

He forgets to respond to the Japanese man and then excuses himself for heartburn.

If I drink enough clear, shiny alcohol and smile and genuinely look like I’m having fun, then I can be A Real Player. A sporting guy here like everyone else, living it up. I mean what else would you be doing during a War but gamble at a fancy casino? We are all stuck here. No one wants to leave anyway. Portugal is the hottest ticket in Europe today. The best place to see and be seen. We all act like it's bollocks but secretly this is the best thing that’s ever happened to any of us, refugees or not. I am an American and I am on a mission.

A small child who shouldn’t be in the casino is standing near the back entrance. It must be one of the refugee’s kids. For no other reason than the shiny glass he holds, the man who cannot remember his name sidles up next to this kid and whispers to him.

“We have become our own doctors, navigators, and chefs. We are trained to do whatever we need to do in whatever part of the world they send us. It’s an elite unit of arduous operations. The teams are small. The clothing is well-tailored. A good suit can be the best insurance policy you have. First, they said I was with the Navy. Then they put me in the Army. If you look me up under the O.S.S., you will not find my name. My name is not revealed. I know my family has tried this. The information is declassified. But see, they won’t find anything. I don’t exist. I don’t care about the royal family. But see, I am supposed to act as I do. The work isn’t so hard, really. I mean, I dress nice and talk shop with all the other nice boys in tuxedos and I drink and gamble and gossip and charm the ladies. That’s not the hard part. Any man would be honored to do this work for his country, to saddle up this lifestyle for a living and a medal. It’s keeping my political views straight that I have a hard time with. I am an actor. I have to keep my lines straight. Any crosscutting into the wrong territory and I’m lost. Sunk. I have to try to remember the views of this nameless guy I am and make sure I don’t mess them up against the real thoughts in my head. Who do I believe in? Who am I fighting for? See kid, this is the double agent’s dilemma.

And I don’t even remember my own name.”

The kid sticks his tongue out at him and runs into the crowd.