Home>>read Exiles in America free online

Exiles in America(125)

By:Christopher Bram


him. Look at what he’d exposed them to. The whole campus knew he and

Abbas were screwing around, which didn’t disturb Zack as much as know-

ing the FBI knew. The college was full of friends; the FBI was all strangers.

Zack didn’t want the FBI watching and judging them like a clumsy, imitation

God.

Daniel didn’t pick up, only his answering machine. Zack left a message: “I

just had a disturbing conversation with an FBI agent, an African American

woman named Whitehurst. They’re investigating Abbas’s brother, which

E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a

2 8 5

means they’ve been watching us. All of us. They know about you and Abbas.

I don’t know what this means. Call me as soon as you get this message. You

should probably warn Abbas. I’m going to call Elena. But be careful.”

He wanted to sound supportive, he did not want to sound humiliated.

And he wasn’t humiliated. Was he?

He clicked the phone off and back on again and dialed Elena’s number.

37

Big gray elephant, little red mouse,” said Daniel. “Big gray ele-

phant, little red mouse. Mass and color balance each other. Size doesn’t

matter, despite what people say”—there was one lone snort—“when the color

is strong. Big gray elephant, little red mouse.”

This was the second semester of Fundamentals of Form, and they’d

moved on to color, which they were exploring in pastels. Daniel strolled

around the room, looking over shoulders. The class was down to a dozen stu-

dents. A few worked at tilted worktables, but most held drawing boards in

their laps. Daniel enjoyed the return to teaching after the holidays. It was a bit

like busywork, but relaxing, productive, sane. He looked forward to a cozy if

boring winter. Boredom should help him get back to his own art. He had got-

ten all the drama he needed last semester.

He stopped beside Nancy Mereen. Not content to stick to the exercise,

she’d gone ahead and turned the assignment into a full-fledged landscape: a

gray mass of water under a tiny red sun.

“Nice. Very nice.” He heard the door open and close behind him. “Forget

the assignment,” he whispered. “You get the principles. Go ahead and add

some blue or purple to your gray. There’s color in colorlessness.” He turned

to see who’d come in.

E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a

2 8 7

Maureen Clark stood just inside the door, bundled up in a swollen down

coat. Daniel hadn’t seen her since Christmas break.

“Hey there, Clark,” he called out. “What can we do for you?”

She cringed, embarrassed by the attention. She performed a rapid dumb

show with her hands to indicate she couldn’t talk in front of everyone.

Daniel came over. “What’s up?” he said softly.

“Can we step outside? I need to tell you something.”

“It can’t wait?”

“I got a class across campus at eleven, and this is really important and I

should tell you right away.”

“Okay. Right back, everybody,” he announced. “Big gray elephant, little

red mouse.”

Daniel’s office was at the other end of the building, so he led Maureen out

to the stairwell. “What’s up?”

She squeezed herself into a corner, her down coat puffing up around her.

“I don’t want to worry you,” she began, “but something really weird hap-

pened last night. I was at the Campus Center, and two people came up, a man

and a woman. They were dressed like church people, and I thought they were

Mormons. But they said they were federal agents and they wanted to talk to

me. They wanted me to tell them all about Mr. Rohani. What kind of teacher

he was, what the kids said about him, who he hung with. Stuff like that.”

A dozen questions instantly filled Daniel’s head. He didn’t know which to

ask first, but he remained calm.

“What kind of agents? FBI or something else? Did they show you a badge

or ID card?”

“They showed me badges, and the badges looked real. But I can’t remem-

ber which agency it was. They said something about the Justice Department.

The man was white, but the woman was black. They were both middle-aged.”

“What did you tell them?”

She looked frightened. “I shouldn’t have talked to them, right?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m sure you were discreet.” Had she been discreet?

“And they were the police. You had to talk to them.”

“They weren’t pushy,” she confessed. “They were very friendly. We just sat

at the gedunk stand and drank sodas. I told them nothing but good things

2 8 8

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