stormed down the bay towards his boat.
And in fact something had changed. I started to pick fights with
Charly over the most inconsequential things. I began to become
jealous of her open, unabashed behavior around the swarthy,
unschooled locals. I felt increasingly irritated by every choice she
made, from restaurants to how late or early we stayed out. We argued
over the most unimportant and accidental peccadilloes. And yet, I
sensed, it was not her at all. Some fear or suspicion was taking root
in the untamed garden of my heart. It took an unlikely messenger
from home to dig it up.
We were passing another one of those lovely days when time could
only be guessed by the angle of the sun in the sky—there were no
appointments to keep, no rush hours to avoid, no television shows to
see, and no watches or anything else to wear. Laying by the water, we
noticed an older couple making their way down the rocks that
guarded our formerly-private little stretch of beach. We tried to
ignore them, but moments later the lady called out to Charly. She was
a friend of Charly’s mother from home. Surprised, we modestly
covered our backsides with t-shirts. Charly engaged her in polite
conversation.
“So this must be your boyfriend,” the lady said after a while,
looking over at me. “Her mother told me all about you.” I nodded and
shook her hand. “So how did you like Ethiopia?” she ventured.
“I wasn’t there,” I answered, squinting to keep the sun out of my
eyes.
She didn’t hear me. “I’m sure it was awful. All those little black
skeletons. I think it’s wonderful she had a man to take care of her in
such a dreadful place. So you’re European? Quelle romantique!” she
gushed, eager to show off her high-school French.
“No,” I said. “I’m American. I didn’t go. I stayed behind.” I
trailed off. A thin line of sweat made its way down my face and
collected at the tip of my nose. I turned my head to look at Charly and
the drop of moisture broke free.
I could not see her eyes behind her sunglasses as she continued
talking with the woman. Her smile seemed frozen on her face.
Finally we were alone again and Charly lowered her head down
upon her towel, saying nothing, her face turned away from me. I tried
to act absorbed in my book but I kept reading the same page over and
over.
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
30
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