you’re lucky.”
30
For the first week Daniel felt fine. It was a relief to know that the af-
fair was over. There was some pain, of course, but that was only hurt
pride. Life was suddenly easier. Daniel didn’t have to worry if Abbas were
going to be kind or cold the next time they met. He didn’t have to fret about
two kids. He could stop being guiltily angry with Zack for being so damn pa-
tient. After feeling so many contradictory, conflicting emotions, it was good to
feel nothing.
Then, during the second week, Daniel began to miss the old atmospheric
pressure. He’d be doing an irksome chore at school or home and think,
Damn, this is dull. I’m glad I can look forward to—only to remember it wasn’t
there anymore. There was nothing to look forward to. This was it, this was his
life, until he met his next outside lover or fuck buddy. Only he didn’t want to
meet anybody new. He had thought he could lose himself in recreational lust,
hooking up through chat lines or masturbating to porn. But no, sexual desire
died on him. He only wanted to get through the semester and then the school
year, but what did he want to do this summer? Not paint. He no longer be-
lieved in painting. There was nothing for him to look forward to except bad
things: illness, accident, old age, death.
He fell into a funk like a bad cold, as if the Rohani kids had infected him
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
2 2 3
with their mother’s hypothetical virus. His deep fatigue remained in his mus-
cles and bones, however, without ever turning into congestion or even a runny
nose.
Thanksgiving was coming up, and he and Zack were invited down to Nor-
folk, as always, for turkey dinner with Zack’s father, sister, brother-in-law, and
twin nieces. One night Zack asked if Daniel knew what Abbas and Elena were
doing for the holiday.
Daniel stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Zack? You want to take
them with us? Are you nuts?”
“I was just asking. Just curious.” Zack made another one of his guilty
faces. “You’re right. We can’t. For a number of reasons. It was just sad pic-
turing them all alone on Thanksgiving.”
Daniel wondered if Zack were testing him. Didn’t he see how much Daniel
was hurting? Maybe he did and couldn’t help wanting to poke him in his sore
spot. Passive aggression was not a new concept for either man. But Daniel
didn’t want to confront Zack about his hurt feelings. He did not want Zack’s
I-told-you-sos; he did not want his sympathy. He preferred to enjoy his self-
pity in private.
Daniel was relieved to hear from Jane Morrison that she and John were
having the Rohanis over on Thanksgiving Day. “I’ve been meaning to invite
them to dinner all semester. Also, John’s mother is coming, and she’s on her
best behavior when there’s company. Are they strict Muslims? Can we drink
in front of them?”
Daniel and Zack drove down to Norfolk on Thursday morning, taking
Jocko with them. A dog was the perfect social accessory for dealing with the
Knowles family. Zack himself joked that if his family couldn’t talk about dogs,
they probably wouldn’t talk at all.
The day was painless but dull. Zack’s dad was his usual gruff, aloof
Southern gentleman, his sister chipper and well-meaning, the brother-in-law
butch yet friendly. Zack also had a brother, but he and his family lived
down in Texas, and they did not visit often. Everyone was on his or her best
behavior, hiding in courtesies, total Wasps, Daniel included. Only the
twins—two very spoiled five-year-old girls—and Jocko were their authentic
selves.
2 2 4
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
“Down, Jocko, down!” cried Daniel when Jocko jumped into his lap to
lick Chee-to crumbs off his face. “Show some manners.”
Mr. Knowles laughed. “Whadja expect? He’s a French poodle.”
The food was good, the meal perfectly pleasant. Nevertheless, once he’d
eaten and there was nothing else to want here, Daniel found himself thinking:
This is so sad. How could Zack live with these people for so long? He has so
little in common with them. They are so unappreciative of who he is. I’ll be
glad when we get back to Williamsburg and I can visit— But he couldn’t,
could he?
Finally, he and Zack said good night and thank you and headed home.
Zack drove. He’d had a glass of wine with dinner but nothing afterward,
while Daniel had finished off a whole bottle of Merlot watching a football
game. Football actually became interesting if you had some alcohol in your
system.
The interstate was nearly deserted as they flew over the James River, a wide