“I know, Amir,” I said, smiling back at him. “I want that too. But getting you into America could be a long process. I am older than you. I don’t want to be an old man before we have that. It will also probably cost a lot of money, money I’m not sure that I have.”
“Then we will find a place that will allow us to be together,” he said, hugging me tightly.
“You might have better luck getting into Canada, given your French skills. Then perhaps I could join you there. Being fluent in French will not get you a job in the US. In Canada, it will.” The words of my Canadian acquaintance were ringing in my ears. “If he’s bilingual, he’ll always have a job in Canada.”
“Then start looking into the process of immigrating to Canada as soon as you get back,” he said. “Promise me you will do it.”
“I promise. I want this as much as you do.”
He got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back he was smiling.
“What?” I asked.