The Last Time They Met Part 15

But she, perhaps wiser in this regard than he, or seeing the future more clearly, said nothing. And asked no questions of her own. Her hair, which had come loose when they had made love, had been put into a twist again, and he saw, from the inexpertness of the hastily made knot, how painstakingly she must have prepared for their reunion.

-It couldn't be helped, she said. she said.

Jealousy squeezed his chest. Did you sleep with him last night? Did you sleep with him last night? he asked, shocking himself with the question. She crossed her arms over her white linen dress. A defensive posture. he asked, shocking himself with the question. She crossed her arms over her white linen dress. A defensive posture.

-Thomas, don't.

-No, seriously, he said, unable to give up what even a fool could see should be given up. he said, unable to give up what even a fool could see should be given up. Did you sleep with him last night? I just want to know. Did you sleep with him last night? I just want to know.

-Why?

-So I know where I stand, he said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his s.h.i.+rt pocket, the s.h.i.+rt having been soaked through on the walk. Across from him, a couple were drinking Pimm's. He envied them their easy boredom. he said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his s.h.i.+rt pocket, the s.h.i.+rt having been soaked through on the walk. Across from him, a couple were drinking Pimm's. He envied them their easy boredom. So I can know the parameters, So I can know the parameters, he said. he said.

She looked away. There are no parameters. There are no parameters.

-So you did did sleep with him, sleep with him, Thomas said sullenly, gazing into his water gla.s.s. Ashamed or afraid of the truth, he wasn't sure. Distracted, as he'd been all afternoon, by her body. The way, now, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rested on her forearms. Thomas said sullenly, gazing into his water gla.s.s. Ashamed or afraid of the truth, he wasn't sure. Distracted, as he'd been all afternoon, by her body. The way, now, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rested on her forearms.

-It was the only way I could arrange it, she said. He noticed that there was a sheen of sweat on her brow. she said. He noticed that there was a sheen of sweat on her brow. Don't let's do this, Thomas, Don't let's do this, Thomas, she added. she added. We have so little time. We have so little time. She uncrossed her arms and sat back in her chair. She put her fingers to her forehead. She uncrossed her arms and sat back in her chair. She put her fingers to her forehead.

-You have a headache? he asked. he asked.

-A bit.

-Do you love him?

The question, having waited in the wings, wanting the limelight now.

-Of course I love him, she said impatiently, and then paused. she said impatiently, and then paused. Not in the way I love you. Not in the way I love you.

-How do you love me? he asked, needing endless rea.s.surance. he asked, needing endless rea.s.surance.

She thought for a moment, picked a piece of lint off her dress. Choosing her words carefully.

-I think of you constantly. I imagine a world in which we can be together. I regret not writing to you after the accident. I lie awake at night feeling you touch me. I believe we were meant to be together.

He drew in a long breath.

-Is that enough? she asked. she asked.

-Oh, Jesus. He put his head into his hands. Looking at their table, the slightly bored couple with the Pimm's might have thought it was he who had the headache. He put his head into his hands. Looking at their table, the slightly bored couple with the Pimm's might have thought it was he who had the headache.

She reached across and touched his arm. In one fluid motion, he seized her hand. What will happen to us? What will happen to us? he asked. he asked.

She shook her head back and forth. I don't know, I don't know, she said. Perhaps he was hurting her. she said. Perhaps he was hurting her. It's so much easier not to think about it. It's so much easier not to think about it.

He let go of her hand. We could have found each other if we'd really tried, We could have found each other if we'd really tried, he said, challenging her. he said, challenging her. It wasn't totally impossible. So why didn't we? It wasn't totally impossible. So why didn't we?

She ma.s.saged her temple with her fingers. Maybe we didn't want to spoil what we had, Maybe we didn't want to spoil what we had, she said. she said.

He sat back and ground the cigarette, barely smoked, under his foot. Yes, he thought. That might have been it. But, then again, how would they have known, at seventeen, that it was possible to spoil love? He remembered them together - - in front of the cottage, at the diner, walking the empty streets of Boston. in front of the cottage, at the diner, walking the empty streets of Boston.

-What? she asked, noticing his incongruous smile. she asked, noticing his incongruous smile.

-I was remembering when I used to make you tell me what you'd said in Confession.

-That was awful, she said. she said.

-This is awful, he said. he said.

He watched her take a sip of water - - the movements of her delicate jaw, the contractions of her long throat. Beyond her was the white beach, an ocean so bright he could barely look at it. Palm trees rose high above them, and from open windows, gauze curtains billowed outward with a snap and then were sucked in again as if by a giant lurking in the shadows. It was a striking hotel, the only one in Shela. The only one in all of Lamu, his editor had said, with a decent bathroom. the movements of her delicate jaw, the contractions of her long throat. Beyond her was the white beach, an ocean so bright he could barely look at it. Palm trees rose high above them, and from open windows, gauze curtains billowed outward with a snap and then were sucked in again as if by a giant lurking in the shadows. It was a striking hotel, the only one in Shela. The only one in all of Lamu, his editor had said, with a decent bathroom.

He slipped another cigarette from its pack and lit it. He was smoking too much, eating too little. We take life too seriously, you and I, We take life too seriously, you and I, he said. he said.

She pulled the pins from her hair and, in a perfectly ordinary but at that moment extraordinary gesture, let her hair fall the length of her back. He watched it sway as it settled. The surprising abundance of all that hair springing from a knot no bigger than a peach hurtled him back through the years.

-It's what I've always loved about you, she said. she said.

-Other people might just f.u.c.k and be done with it. Enjoy the f.u.c.k.

-We enjoyed the f.u.c.k.

He smiled. So we did. So we did.

He let his gaze s.h.i.+ft slightly toward the beach. Something had caught his attention, something he hadn't noticed before: at either end of the bathing area, the beachgoers were nude. A man with saggy b.u.t.tocks had his back to him and was speaking to a woman lying on a blanket. He could see her hair, but not her body.

-Was it ever easy? he asked. he asked.

-You mean light?

-I mean not serious.

-No.

He rubbed his face. Sunburn had tightened his skin. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. They were wasting precious moments together. He wanted to return to the house, where they could make love again, but he knew they might have to wait until it was cooler. Perhaps there was a military truck returning to the village.

-The one thing I miss, he said, he said, is music. is music.

-You don't have any tapes? she asked. she asked.

-I had tapes. But they were stolen. The tape recorder, too. I wonder what's popular right now.

They sat in easy silence. A dhow skimmed the horizon. Ancient. Unchanged for centuries.

-What was Rich's visit like?

-Oh, it was wonderful, apart from the fact that he got sick with malaria. We'd told him to take the pills in advance, but, I don't know, he's only sixteen.

-Is he OK?

-Yes. He's recovering in Nairobi.

-Are you making any progress with Ndegwa? she asked. she asked.

-Well, there's the emba.s.sy party at the Intercontinental. Will you come?

-I don't know.

-You'd come with Peter? he asked. he asked.

She glanced away. She seemed exhausted. The bus from Malindi would have been grueling. He remembered a long trip to Eldoret that he and Regina had once taken on a bus, and how the driver had stopped so that all the pa.s.sengers could get out to p.i.s.s. The women, including Regina, had squatted, letting their long skirts cover themselves.

-You never had a problem with the letters? she asked. she asked.

-No, he said. he said. I loved them. I loved them.

-I find them frustrating, she said. she said. Inadequate. Inadequate.

He sat up, a sudden anger straightening his spine. How could you? How could you? he asked, tossing his cigarette onto the cement floor. he asked, tossing his cigarette onto the cement floor.

She flinched, startled by the non sequitur, the sudden change of tone. How could I what? How could I what?

-Sleep with Peter.

-Sleep with Peter?

Thomas refused to retract the question. He thought it a reasonable one: how could she, after that Sunday in Njia, be with another man?

He combed his hair with his fingers. He needed a bath. Jesus, he must stink. An ugliness that had no place at that table, a stench more sickly sweet than the open sewers of Lamu, was suffocating him. He made an effort to breathe in the ocean air.

-You expected on the strength of one meeting after nine years apart that I would tell Peter our marriage was over? she asked, her voice conveying her incredulity. she asked, her voice conveying her incredulity.

-Yes, he said. he said. Basically. Basically.

-I can't believe you're saying this.

-Why not? he asked. he asked. Would you walk away from this now? Just tell me you could go back to a life with Peter and never see me again. Would you walk away from this now? Just tell me you could go back to a life with Peter and never see me again.

She was silent a long time.

-So, he said. he said. Then. Then.

She put her fingers to her forehead. He saw that she had gone deathly pale.

-Are you all right? he asked. he asked.

-I need to lie down.

It was the water or the lobster or the drinking or the walk in the heat or the ridiculously painful questions he'd been asking her. She'd grown so pale so quickly that he thought she might faint. She said, Please, Please, and he didn't know if she meant please stop talking or please help me. He did both. She leaned her weight on him and let him help her inside. But once inside, she lurched away, spoke rapidly to a middle-aged blonde behind a desk, and then disappeared around a corner. Thomas stood in the middle of the small, trim lobby wondering what had just happened. and he didn't know if she meant please stop talking or please help me. He did both. She leaned her weight on him and let him help her inside. But once inside, she lurched away, spoke rapidly to a middle-aged blonde behind a desk, and then disappeared around a corner. Thomas stood in the middle of the small, trim lobby wondering what had just happened.

-Has she been ill? the woman asked. British accent. Polka-dot dress. the woman asked. British accent. Polka-dot dress.

Thomas shook his head.

-Pregnant?

The question rattled him. It was a moment before he could respond. I don't know, I don't know, he had to say, admitting that he might not know her that well. he had to say, admitting that he might not know her that well.

-What did she eat?

-Here? Grapefruit and water.

-Well, it's unlikely to have been the grapefruit. The water is bottled. Anything earlier today?

Thomas thought about their lunch at Petley's. Chicken, Chicken, he said. And then he remembered. he said. And then he remembered. Lobster. She had lobster c.o.c.ktail. Lobster. She had lobster c.o.c.ktail.

-Where?

-Petley's.

-Oh, the woman said, as if that settled it. the woman said, as if that settled it.

But had Linda actually eaten the lobster? He tried to remember. And how could either she or he have been so foolish as to have ordered lobster in the first place? Never eat sh.e.l.lfish that you didn't know positively was fresh, they told you in the training sessions.

-Let me see to her, the woman said. the woman said.

He waited on a camelbacked couch and watched bathers come and go in varying states of undress. One woman had tied a kanga at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and was clearly naked underneath, the cloth barely covering her. An elderly gentleman in a pale blue seersucker suit sat beside him and said, by way of a pleasantry, Lovely day. Lovely day.

-Yes, it is, Thomas said, though he didn't believe it. Many words might apply to the day Thomas said, though he didn't believe it. Many words might apply to the day - - momentous; heart-breaking; wrenching momentous; heart-breaking; wrenching - - but but lovely lovely was not among them. was not among them.

The man's eyes watered some. He had high color and white hair, and Thomas thought the words Old gentleman. Old gentleman. A peculiar smell of age, masked by cologne or hair tonic, seemed to emanate from deep inside his body. His cheeks, blotchy pink and red-veined, might have to be described as rosy. An elderly woman entered the lobby, and the old gentleman stood, waiting for her. She walked with slow steps, her back slightly stooped. Her white hair had been carefully combed and pinned, and she wore long ropes of pearls over a peach-colored silk blouse. She had the high waist of middle-age, but still there was a waist. Her mulberry pumps moved slowly forward in short steps. A peculiar smell of age, masked by cologne or hair tonic, seemed to emanate from deep inside his body. His cheeks, blotchy pink and red-veined, might have to be described as rosy. An elderly woman entered the lobby, and the old gentleman stood, waiting for her. She walked with slow steps, her back slightly stooped. Her white hair had been carefully combed and pinned, and she wore long ropes of pearls over a peach-colored silk blouse. She had the high waist of middle-age, but still there was a waist. Her mulberry pumps moved slowly forward in short steps.

She took the old gentleman's arm, and Thomas noticed that he put his hand over hers. Together they walked out to the verandah. Were they widowed? Were they married?

Christ, he thought, turning. he thought, turning.

Another man, nearer his own age, dark-haired and good-looking, took a step backward into the lobby from the verandah. He seemed to be trying to take a picture of the ocean. For a moment, he fiddled with his camera, pressing b.u.t.tons and trying levers; but then the camera, with a life of its own, popped open, surprising him. The man extracted the film from the camera and tossed the now useless canister into the wastebasket.

The blond proprietress returned from the bathroom and went directly to her desk. She unlocked a cupboard.

-How is she? Thomas asked, standing. Thomas asked, standing.

-A bit peaky, the woman said. Thomas wondering if this might be an example of British understatement. She poured a brown liquid into a tiny paper cup. the woman said. Thomas wondering if this might be an example of British understatement. She poured a brown liquid into a tiny paper cup.

-What's that? Thomas asked. Thomas asked.

-Oh, said the woman, turning. said the woman, turning. Best not to think about it. Best not to think about it.

Pure opium, Thomas thought, deciding to think about it.