head.
The bell was answered by a red-haired college girl with freckles and a
pierced eyebrow.
“Wexler. Hey,” she said with a flat tone and sly smile.
“Hi, Maureen. I see you got yourself another babysitting gig. Oh, my
boyfriend, Zack Knowles. One of my students, Maureen Clark.”
Zack shook hands with the girl. He didn’t know how Daniel did it, how he
could tell them apart. All college kids looked alike to him, except for the oc-
casional beautiful guy.
“We are nearly ready!” shouted Elena from upstairs.
The floors were uncarpeted wood, and Zack could hear the Rohanis clop-
ping overhead like a pair of racehorses. The living room was small and dark,
lit chiefly by the TV set, which Osh and Mina watched while sitting cross-
legged on the floor. The furniture was dumpy college-issue, except for a
damask folding screen in the corner, full of Arabic or Persian motifs, and a
large blue painting propped on the mantel over a cold, ashy fireplace.
“Is that his?” asked Zack.
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
1 0 7
“Oh yeah. An earlier version of what he’s doing now.”
It was beautiful, all color and texture, an abstract seascape that slowly re-
vealed itself to be nothing but figures, a dense weave of abstract fish and sea
monsters. Zack looked at Daniel with raised eyebrows, as if to say: This is
good, isn’t it? Daniel nodded: Of course, it’s good.
Elena came downstairs, her high heels clattering on the steps, a lemony
twist of perfume preceding her. “I hope we are not too late. There will be seats
left?”
“There’s always seats at the Williamsburg Theater,” said Daniel.
Then he came down, steadily dropping into view: first legs, then crotch,
then a long, lean torso—oddly long, like a swan’s neck—and finally a dark,
somber face in glasses.
This was the first time Zack had seen Abbas since it started. Just a man, he
thought. A balding, olive-skinned man with designer eyewear. Zack was dis-
appointed he didn’t feel more strongly.
Abbas scowled at Daniel, as if he blamed him for this outing. Then he
caught sight of Zack and looked away, embarrassed. If this were a movie,
thought Zack, there would be a close-up of me as I begin to suspect some-
thing. But it wasn’t a movie and Zack already knew everything. Didn’t he?
Maybe tonight wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Elena turned to Maureen. “You have our cell phone number if there is an
emergency. But there will be no emergency, right, Mina?”
“Right, Mama.”
“Good night, my dears. We will not be too late.”
“And we can have a fire and roast marshmallows?” asked Maureen. “They
got a real fireplace,” she told Daniel.
“Yes. But you must watch them,” said Elena, “especially Osh. Obey Mau-
reen,” she told her son. “You must not play with the fire.”
“Oui, maman.”
f 2
It was only two blocks from Chandler Court to the theater. Zack found him-
self walking with Elena while their spouses walked together a few feet ahead.
The spouses barely spoke.
1 0 8
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
“Abbas does not seem eager to see this,” said Zack.
Elena shrugged. “We are always doing what he wants. Tonight we are
doing what I want.” She lowered her voice. “I am here for the movie. Abbas
thinks I am here for something else. But I only want to get out of the house
and see a good movie. And you?”
Her directness continued to surprise and please Zack. “Not my favorite
musical,” he admitted. “I wanted to find out if we could spend an evening to-
gether and be normal.”
“Normal?” she said, as if it were a peculiar idea. “Hmm.”
The college stood inside the V formed by Jamestown Road and Richmond
Road. Merchants Square was just outside the point of the V, between the cam-
pus and Colonial Williamsburg, a block-long stretch of Duke of Gloucester
Street closed to traffic and lined with shops. Tonight the square was full of
tourists strolling in the shadows, the old-fashioned streetlamps no brighter
than the watery electric light spilling from the colonial shop windows. There
was no marquee over the movie theater—it would have spoiled the ersatz
eighteenth-century look—but a poster for the movie hung in the glass case
out front. A surprising number of people crowded around the ticket booth.
They found Ross inside, working the popcorn stand as usual. His face lit
up at the sight of Elena.
“You came!” he exclaimed. “You all came. Great. It’s a good night, a good
crowd. Here, I saved seats for us.”
He eagerly escorted them inside and down the center aisle to a row with a