corner. He did not call after her.
She’ll be fine, he told himself. She’s a tough little cookie, a curious cat who
can experience all manner of things without curiosity killing her. He returned
to his desk, shaking his head over Maureen, trying to be amused. He must
have displayed the same improbable combination of innocence and ruthless-
ness when he was her age.
But he was furious with the Rohanis, both of them, for using Maureen.
Elena had wanted to make Abbas jealous, and it was no skin off her nose if she
did it with a man or a woman. Abbas had wanted to prove to Elena that he
was the center of her world, that she craved his dick, no matter where his dick
had been. So he fucked her in front of the babysitter, wanting a witness to
make their fuck more real. Daniel didn’t picture the scene—he hadn’t pic-
tured it when Maureen told her story; he refused to picture it now—yet his
stomach continued to twist and churn as if the experience had gone straight
into his body without being seen, not even in his mental eye.
He had been right to tell Maureen that this couple was crazy and she
should keep away. But he couldn’t just leave things there. He could not go
home with his moral indignation still stewing in his gut. He needed to con-
front Abbas and set the selfish bastard straight.
Daniel left his office and headed down the hall. He would look into the
studio class and tell Abbas that they needed to talk today. Then Daniel would
be committed to confronting him.
The classroom door was closed. Daniel didn’t bother to knock. He opened
1 3 2
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
the door and walked into a sunny studio and the eerie silence of painters
painting, a concentrated stillness accompanied by a soft, wet scratching. A
dozen students sat behind a dozen easels, copying something at the front of
the room. Daniel turned to look. It was not a human model but an old-
fashioned terra-cotta torso. Lopsided and life-size, it sat on a low stool like a
mutilated corpse.
“No, no, no. You do not understand. My words are going inside one ear
and out the other.”
Abbas was scolding a student, Derek Sinclair, at his easel. Then he saw
Daniel—and his face brightened. His eyes actually lit up, as if he were happy
to see Daniel. He raised one finger, asking him to wait.
Daniel felt like he’d been hit in the chest. Just seeing the man after Mau-
reen’s stories was as startling as a blow to his rib cage. Daniel almost said,
Ooof. It wasn’t hate, it wasn’t even lust, but Daniel was not indifferent. No,
anger did not leave him cold to Abbas.
“You think you know everything. But you know nothing. Scrape it off,”
Abbas told Derek. “Take your turpentine and cloth and scrape your canvas
clean and start all over.”
He’s a terrible teacher, thought Daniel, impatient and arrogant. I’m a
much better teacher than he is.
Maureen sat in the back of the room, only mildly curious to see Daniel
here so soon after her confession.
Abbas came out from the forest of easels. He was smiling at Daniel, a
warm, confident, welcoming smile. He turned to the class. “I will return in
five minutes. Save your questions until then.” He directed Daniel back into
the hall. It was as if he’d arranged this meeting. “I must show you something.”
Daniel was too confused to speak. He followed Abbas around the corner
to his private studio.
Abbas unlocked the door and turned on the light in the room where they
used to trick. He went straight to a new canvas on the floor, a big square of
stretched material that looked empty except for a few curved lines drawn in
charcoal. Abbas pointed at it, shook his head, and began to chuckle.
“Look!” he said. “Just look!”
“I don’t see anything.”
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
1 3 3
“Exactly! I could not paint this weekend. I could not even begin. I set up
my canvas, I set out my colors. And nothing. I could not even lay down a
ground. I could not decide what color it should be. My mind was a total
blank.”
“It happens to us all.”
“Not to me.” Abbas continued to chuckle, finding his failure weirdly
funny. He seemed like a different man from Friday night, but he was always
different away from his wife.
Daniel couldn’t see his point. He plunged ahead. “You realize, don’t you,
the school has very strict rules regarding sexual relations between faculty and
students.”
Abbas looked puzzled. “Oh? What did the girl tell you?”
Too late, Daniel realized he might turn Maureen’s teacher into her enemy.
“It wasn’t her fault. It slipped out. I made her tell me the rest of what hap-