Exiles in America(19)

and the showers. They stepped into the oven air.

Abbas promptly whipped off his towel, spread it on the wooden bench,

and sat there, as plain as could be. Daniel dropped his own towel and sat fac-

ing him. Their knees were less than ten inches apart. Daniel carefully set his

bare feet on either side of the Iranian’s toes.

Already he could feel prickles of sweat in his crotch and armpits and the

bald zone of his scalp.

Abbas smiled at Daniel.

Daniel smiled back. “You have beautiful children,” he said.

“Oh yes. They are my pride and joy.” Abbas jiggled his genitals, separating

his cock from his balls in their nest of jet-black hair.

Daniel leaned back, lifting one knee to display himself and prove he wasn’t

intimidated.

Abbas closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of baked air, salty perspi-

ration, and masculine musk.

It was incredibly sexual. Daniel knew not to confuse imaginary sex with

real sex, and this sex was all in his head. Maybe it was their cultural differ-

ences. Something was lost in translation—or gained. Thoughts were distorted

as they passed from one language to another, like light passing through a glass

of water.

One dim incandescent bulb glowed in the ceiling. Abbas’s body began to

glisten. He kept his eyes closed when he spoke.

4 4

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

“I enjoyed the other night very much. The dinner and conversation. And

your painting. Not all your paintings but one. You know the one. Very—

witty.” He opened his eyes and smiled again. “You and your partner are like

me and Elena.”

“Oh?”

“We see other people.”

“Oh.” So that’s why he wanted Daniel here. He was using the sauna as a

confessional. “You see other women?”

Abbas shrugged. “And men,” he said, as if this were of no importance.

“Men are more available. And understanding.”

Daniel crossed his legs. Then he uncrossed them. His legs were slippery

with sweat. His heart was racing like a stopwatch.

So it was not a mistranslation, not just imaginary. The sexual feeling in the

sauna was real. Daniel had sensed something about Abbas ever since he first

met the man, another side to the painter that could bring the two men to-

gether in friendship. He had thought it was art they shared, but it must be

their sexuality. Or was Abbas offering more than friendship?

“You mean you’re bisexual?” he said.

Again Abbas shrugged. “I prefer women for love and men for sex. And I

love Elena. But I have my needs and she prefers I satisfy them with men.”

He chuckled and stretched, arching his back and spreading his arms and

legs, opening himself out. His sweat glands threw off a faint spray, like the

mist you get when you bend an orange peel.

“This is lovely. Reminds me of Berlin. Have you been to Berlin? I used to

go there to the Apollo Sauna. Very nice. Very relaxing.”

Was he hoping to relax this morning? Was that what he wanted? Did he

expect a hand job here and now? Daniel wasn’t that cheap. Plus they were fac-

ulty, in the same department. And the man’s kids were just outside! Yet he did

look awfully appealing sprawled in front of Daniel like a starfish.

“No. We’re not monogamous,” said Daniel. “You saw my self-portrait. We

see other people. Now and then.” All right, he thought. Your move.

“And where do you meet these other people?” asked Abbas.

“Oh, on the Internet. And at bars. There’s a couple of bars down in Nor-

folk. Which is a big navy town.”

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

4 5

“But nothing here?”

The sauna door burst open in an explosion of light.

Three frat boys stood outside. They came to a dead stop when they saw

two grown men inside—two naked grown men. The boys wore baggy bathing

suits and large, droopy T-shirts.

Their timing could not have been better if this were a porn movie. But it

wasn’t a porn movie.

“Come in, come in!” called out Abbas. “There is plenty room.”

“Sorry, man. Hey. We’re cool. But we’re gonna go swim first. Bye.” And

they quickly shut the door.

“You should know,” said Daniel, “that the students here are big prudes.

And legally out of bounds. So you can forget about them.”

“Pity,” said Abbas. “When I was their age, I was a big prude, too. Which

might be why I prefer younger men. To make up for my lost years. So Ameri-

can students are as uptight as Muslim students?”

“The majority. Yes.” Of course Abbas wanted younger men, thought

Daniel. Who didn’t?

“But there are sailors nearby? Sailors are good.”