Exiles in America(23)

your work is dangerous. It’s beautiful but not political or religious. Not that I

can see. You’re hardly Salman Rushdie.”

Abbas frowned again. “No. I hate politics and fear religion. Not fear. That

is the wrong word. I respect religion. But decadence is not in the meaning. It

is in the vocabulary. The Shah loved modern art, so now the people of Iran

must hate it. The Shah loved all things American, and now the people must

hate such things.”

“You don’t hate America?”

“Oh no. I love American things. Even the kitsch. Because they are things

from my childhood. You cannot imagine how soaked we were in American

things. Mickey Mouse and Coca-Cola. American Bandstand. American English.

The English was a status symbol. Everyone wanted to speak it, even those who

couldn’t. All brochures and advertisements were written in bad, freaky En-

glish.” He looked up from his canvas, grinning. “There was a brand of rubbers,

Iranian condoms, and on the package it said, ‘For sanity of penis.’ ”

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

5 3

Daniel laughed, overdoing it, but the line was funny.

“So when they throw out the Shah, they throw out everything American,

good and bad: the condoms and art and secret police. It is too hard to sepa-

rate the good from the bad so they just throw out everything. They see things

in black and white. But life is not black and white.”

“Not at all,” said Daniel. “It’s in color. Like your paintings.”

Abbas lifted his eyebrows, as if Daniel had said something important—but

Daniel had only been playing with words.

“I hate black and white,” said Abbas. “And I hate gray. And all murky

things. I love strong color.”

He slowly stood up and looked down at his painting. He went to his boom

box and turned off the music. He returned to the painting and studied it for

a long time. He gritted his teeth.

“It is off. It is no good to continue. Maybe tomorrow.” He walked sadly to

the sink, his face looking very grim.

Daniel got up to look at the canvas. It was still a beautiful carpet of color,

with a parade of cryptic figures, unfinished but promising. What had gone

wrong? Was it something he’d said?

“You must know the feeling,” said Abbas, pouring turpentine on his

hands and forearms. “Everything is going fine, and suddenly, click, it looks

flat, dead, wrong. You must walk away or you will tear the canvas up or start

hitting walls.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there,” said Daniel. Was Abbas in such a bad mood

now that they could forget about sex? He looked so glum that Daniel won-

dered if they’d even get to Norfolk.

Abbas finished with the turpentine, then undid the straps of his overalls

and squirted liquid soap into his hands. “You are still wanting us to do this?”

“Uh, only if you want to,” Daniel said worriedly.

Abbas soaped his arms and chest, looking even more solemn. “Oh, all

right. It will get me out of my head and into my body.”

“Good then,” said Daniel. “Sure.” You might think they were agreeing to

pull each other’s teeth out.

Abbas washed more quickly, splashing water into his chest hair. “I stink

like a forest. Or how you call it? A Christmas tree?”

5 4

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

“One of my favorite smells,” said Daniel. “Bad Jew that I am.”

But Abbas didn’t smile. “This is probably a stupid thing to do with a

friend,” he said as he rubbed his chest with a towel. “But I am in a bad mood

now and this is better than hitting walls.”

Daniel hesitated. “So long as you don’t start hitting me.”

Abbas tossed the towel and went to the door. He locked it. “On or off?”

He was pointing at the fluorescent lights overhead.

“Off.” Daniel usually wanted light, but darkness would be safer.

Abbas clicked the switch, and the studio wasn’t totally dark but full of

gray, dusky light from the clerestory windows.

Daniel watched Abbas approach. The bib of the overalls was still lowered;

he was ghost white from the waist down. He smelled of flowery soap and pine

resin. He stood in front Daniel, frowning.

Daniel slipped both arms around him.

Abbas was lean and solid and taller than Daniel.

Daniel went up on his toes to kiss him.

He feared the worst: locked teeth or an averted face, followed by the clas -

sic forceful hand on the head, like a policeman pushing you down into a pa-

trol car. But Abbas opened his mouth into Daniel’s mouth and their tongues

met, like two warm, wet, muscular souls.

Daniel remained on his toes. There was so much of Abbas to rub against.