The Other Language(60)

His wife made her appearance at lunch in one of those ridiculous new ensembles that so embarrassed him. The choreographer was kind enough to compliment her on her harem-style pants and she seemed pleased.

He asked, in a casual tone, whether Ushma was going to join them.

“Oh no, Ushma never eats before a show,” the diamond-studded lady said. “She’s such a perfectionist. She will rehearse till one hour before going onstage, even for a small performance such as tonight.”

“Dance is a devotional act,” said the playwright. “It doesn’t really matter to her how many people are in the audience.”

“Indeed. Shouldn’t that be true for every form of art?” he asked, more forcefully than rhetorically. “Of course, now its original purpose has been lost. But for millennia artistic expression has been a means to reach the divine within us!”

His wife lifted her eyes from her plate. She wasn’t used to hearing such earnest talk coming from him about art’s divine power.

Later in the day, after their usual postprandial nap, he woke up and found her sitting at the desk, in front of his laptop. She quickly closed the screen.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t feel well?”

“No. I feel a little dizzy, I think.”

“Is it the heat?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t feel a hundred percent myself,” she said, massaging her stomach.

“Could it be something you ate?”

“I do feel a little nauseous, you know …”

This seemed an unexpected opportunity.

“Maybe you should stay in tonight and rest,” he suggested.

She smiled, thankful.

“Actually I was just thinking that.”

“Well then, by all means, stay put.”

He stood up, relieved. She also seemed content.

“Are you going to see the performance anyway?” she asked with a hint of anxiety.

“I guess I’ll have to. I believe the prince has already arranged everything counting us in. I’m afraid it’s going to be rude if we both cancel, don’t you think?”

“Probably. Yeah.”

“Unless you want me to stay with you.”

He held his breath, hoping it hadn’t been a mistake to offer.

“No, no, of course not,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then. I’ll let the prince know you’re not coming.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind going without me, love?”

“No, darling, I don’t mind at all. They are nice people, and as you say I’m sure it’s going to be interesting to see this performance.”

“I’m sorry to be missing it, but I really don’t feel like getting on a boat at night, you know? It gets so chilly out on the river.”

“Yes, it does get quite damp at a certain time of the night, doesn’t it?”

“I’d much rather cuddle up in bed with a mug of hot tea.”

“You can watch a movie on my computer. That sounds blissful. In a way I wish I could do the same.”

They smiled at each other, as if contemplating the possibility of that happening, and neither one said another word.



Tyler had moved to Paris and had been working for a human rights organization that monitored the International Criminal Court. When they’d finally managed to speak on Skype he was about to catch a flight to The Hague so he had to be brief. Only a few hours before, the ICC had issued a guilty verdict against an African warlord for using child soldiers in the bloody ethnic conflict in the north of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. This was apparently great news since the trial against him had lasted a decade and it was going to hit the headlines in a major way. Tyler said he was literally on his way to a press conference that was scheduled that same afternoon.

There’d been no mention of a wife or children.

“That’s wonderful, Tyler. You must be so excited,” she said, though she had no idea who this particular warlord was.

“I am. But I’m very excited to hear from you,” he said, in his husky, velvety voice, a voice she had nearly forgotten, which was coming back like a landslide.

“Me, too,” she said, almost breathless.

“What took you so long to find me?”

“You didn’t work too hard at finding me either,” she said, grinning.

“True. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking of you.”

She swallowed hard.

“Turn on the camera,” he said.

She gave a light laugh.

“No way. I look awful. I’m not ready yet.”

“I’m dying to see you. When can I see you? In person, I mean.”

“I … I don’t know,” she said. She felt a slight panic, and made herself laugh. “Wow, Tyler, maybe we’ve got to slow it down.”

She heard a loud buzz in the background of his place.

“Shit, I really have to go now,” he said. “Can we speak later? I can call you after the press conference.”

“Yes … but not too late. There’s a time difference here.”

“Okay, just hold on a sec.”