black emptiness on either side of the bridge’s long arc of orange sodium
lights.
“Another year, another Thanksgiving,” said Zack. “Thank God, it’s over.”
“But it was peaceful,” said Daniel. “Not like my family. Where everyone
has a grudge or grievance or score to settle. You can’t say no to Aunt Leah’s
crumb cake without getting your head bit off for not coming to her husband’s
funeral ten years ago. But at least everything is out in the open.”
“We can’t all be hot-blooded Middle Eastern types.”
Daniel was surprised by the edge in Zack’s voice. “I wasn’t criticizing your
family.” Although he was, wasn’t he? The choice of geography confused him
until he recognized the other connection.
Zack drove in silence for a minute, an endless minute. “Tonight was peace-
ful,” he admitted. “But it’s a fake peace. What we’re faking is Mom’s absence.
We miss her, but we can’t talk about her death. Well, Sissy and I did while we
did the dishes, but we couldn’t mention it in front of Dad. It’s been six years.
I don’t often miss her. Except at Thanksgiving.”
“Of course,” said Daniel sadly. “Sorry. I should have thought of that. I for-
got.”
“Yes, well, you got other things on your mind these days.”
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
2 2 5
The bitter tone hung in the air after the words faded.
“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that,” said Zack. “I have no business
using my mother’s death like that. It’s just— She was in my thoughts today,
and I wanted to have it acknowledged.”
“Fine. I acknowledge it.” Daniel tried to remain cool and tough, but other
thoughts spilled out. “Look, I lost my mother, too, and I loved her very much.
Our mothers have nothing to do with this.”
“No, they don’t. I apologize.” Zack resumed his silence for a moment.
“But I have to say: I’m losing patience with your broken heart.”
“I’m not heartbroken. I’m just feeling—I don’t know—old.”
“Well, it’s getting tired. Especially when you don’t talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Then what are we talking about now?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who started it.”
Zack took a deep breath. “I should know better than to try to discuss any-
thing with you when you’ve been drinking.”
“You certainly should,” declared Daniel with mock righteousness. “Hey,
I’m a bear of little brain and great thoughts hurt me.” He hid in a joke, hop-
ing to make peace with the joke, even as he reached for the car stereo to end
this conversation.
There was already a CD in the machine, Mahler songs, more of Zack’s
nerd music, high-toned and lugubrious, but Daniel let it play, a conciliatory
gesture.
“Your mother was a good lady,” said Daniel. “I miss her, too.”
Zack sadly nodded, accepting the change of subject. “She was a wonder-
ful lady. Loving and tolerant and curious about people. Supportive of each of
us, different as we were. But not without faults,” he added. “She was always
giving in to Dad, just to keep the peace. She didn’t always have the courage of
her convictions. She had her limitations. But don’t we all?”
f 2
Thanksgiving weekend was a long weekend, of course, but they stayed home,
sharing a kind of peace. It was a fake peace, like the one Zack described at his
father’s house, yet they went about their separate chores and shared pleasures,
2 2 6
C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
even watching a couple of DVDs together— Nosferatu one night, Romy and
Michele’s High School Reunion the next—as if it were only their shadows who
were unhappy with each other. Daniel was relieved when Monday arrived and
they both returned to work.
It was exam time at school, and everyone was off the usual routine. Daniel
did not see Abbas in Andrews Hall, which was surprising, since it’s a law of
nature that you inevitably run into any person you want to avoid. Daniel gave
no exams, but he used the two weeks before Christmas break for private
meetings with students to discuss their studio work. None were terribly inter-
esting, except Jonathan Stuart, who’d put together a clever construction fea-
turing a cartoon sculpture of himself—a photo collage pasted on a small piece
of foam core—sitting in a dollhouse like a college dorm, all mopey and afraid,
while outside loomed giant editorial cartoons of President Bush and Saddam