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Exiles in America(113)

By:Christopher Bram


alone, stepping into heated air and sugary music. He tugged his coat down in

case his boner was showing.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” chirped a pretty young woman at the front desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“My friend and I have been driving all day. We need a place to crash.

What’s your cheapest room?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re full up this evening.”

“On Christmas Day?” Didn’t all good Christians stay home today?

“The Yuletide is a very special season here in Colonial Williamsburg. You

should have made reservations.”

Daniel went back to the car. “This might be harder than I thought. Let’s drive

out toward Busch Gardens and see if we have better luck further out of town.”

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Abbas twisted around to back up the car. His face looked dark and gloomy

in the light from the motel lobby. He hadn’t shaved today. Daniel could feel

the whisker burns just looking at him—the sensation excited Daniel. When

they were on the highway again, he wanted to kiss Abbas to cheer him up and

encourage them, but he couldn’t, not while Abbas was driving. He reached

over and rubbed his thigh, but the gesture felt only chummy, not erotic.

Then Abbas said, “Hassan wants us to come to Tehran.”

“What?” Daniel looked at his face again. “For a visit?”

“Forever. He says I belong in Iran and they need their artists and I will

have a great future if I come home.”

Daniel was confused, alarmed. “You said no, right?”

“Yes. Of course I said no.”

Daniel resumed looking for motels, as if a motel would solve this. The

smaller motels were totally dark, as if closed for the week. The larger ones all

bore “No vacancy” signs.

“Does Elena know about his invitation?”

“Oh yes. She was there. And she said she would be miserable in Tehran,

and I would be miserable, too. She has seen their art and it is all kitsch. I will

be a cultural prisoner, she said. ‘You will celebrate him one month, and cen-

sor him the next. You will change your mind and call him an enemy of God.

Like you did Salman Rushdie.’ And Hassan said, ‘Oh no. That was a big mis-

take. Nothing like that will happen again.’ ”

None of it made sense to Daniel. “Why would he want you there? Is it to

control you?”

“No. He loves me. He loves his niece and nephew. And he is afraid we will

be separated if there is a war. But I told him: if there is a war, we will be safer

here than next door in Tehran.”

“Your brother really thinks there’ll be a war with Iraq?”

Abbas shrugged. “He doesn’t know. Nobody knows. But I made myself

clear: Elena and the children and I will not go to Iran.”

“Here, this one looks good,” said Daniel. “Let’s try this one.”

It was a Motel 6 between the highway and the railroad tracks. The place

was open, although only a few cars were parked out front. Inside the office

was a big silver wreath like an aluminum foil life preserver, and an immensely

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C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m

fat young man like a baby elephant playing a video war game. “Yeah?” he

grumbled.

“Can I get a room for me and my friend? We’ve been driving all day and

we’re exhausted.”

Daniel felt the elephant scowling while he signed the credit card voucher, but

the guy was probably only pissed to have his game interrupted. “Uh, what time

is checkout?” Daniel took the plastic room card—nobody used keys anymore—

returned to the car, and told Abbas to drive to the end of the building. One last

car was parked there, an SUV. A television flickered behind the curtains.

“You could not get a room without neighbors?” said Abbas.

“I didn’t ask,” Daniel snapped. “Does it matter?”

The lock clicked open, and they heard muffled laughter from the TV next

door. The room smelled of cold and mildew, like an old refrigerator. Daniel

turned on the overhead light; it was so dim and bleak that he immediately

turned it off. “Get the bathroom light,” he barked at Abbas. He couldn’t un-

derstand why he was angry. He drew the curtains and turned on the heater

under the window. “It’ll warm up soon,” he said, trying to sound friendlier.

“Let’s use this bed. It’s closer to the heater.”

Abbas grabbed his shoulders, turned him around, and kissed him hard.

His tongue pumped in and out. His whiskers bit like tiny teeth. His hands

were cold and clumsy. They hadn’t done this in weeks and were starting all