Part 19 (1/2)
”Because of that nude scene on the Adriatic?”
”Which one? The one in the film or the one in the tabloids taken by that ... that Venetian snorkeller with the telephoto lens?”
”The one in the film ...”
”Well, you know what I'm talking about.”
” ... which was sort of integrated into the plot, I mean the character ...”
”Me lying naked in a gondola, rubbing Coppertone on my thighs? It had nothing to do with plot or character. It was more like product placement. Listen, Noel, please don't tell anyone about this, OK? I'm trying to put it all behind me. I have my reasons. Noel, will you promise?”
”Of course I will, I give you my word.”
Samira looked him straight in the eye. Yes, she thought, I can trust him. ”Can we change the subject now? Can I ask you you some personal questions?” some personal questions?”
”Within reason. But first I have to go the bathroom.”
”You mean to your mom's bedroom to see if she's all right.”
”Uh, well, that too.”
When Noel looked in on his mother he found her sitting in the bathtub, in an inch of lukewarm water, wearing a bikini. ”What time does the train leave?” she asked, more than once, while s.h.i.+vering. Where's the Bath Lady when I need her? Noel asked himself. And why isn't JJ looking after her?
”Find a phone,” said his mother. ”Call the princ.i.p.al. I can't remember his name. Just say 'the princ.i.p.al.' Tell him I won't be in today.”
It took almost an hour to calm her down, another to get her into bed.
Noel pulled a chair close to her pillow, wondering which words would work this time. ”Would you like to hear about ... let's see, that time in Florida, when the hurricane hit? Hurricane Emily? Do you remember? When everyone fled the island except us two? And the governor came on the radio and said 'Flee or die!'? And we ran out of food, but not alcohol, and got plastered?” Instead of smiling at the memory, his mother gazed at the ceiling with deadened eyes. ”Would you like to hear a poem instead? A funny one, by Stevie Smith? No? I know which one. One of your favourites. You remember?
Wild nights! Wild nights!Were I with thee,Wild nights should beOur luxury!Futile the windsTo a heart in port,Done with the compa.s.s,Done with the chart.Rowing in Eden!Ah! the sea!Might I but moorTo-night in thee!”35 With her head to one side, Mrs. Burun regarded her son with a quizzical air. ”I'm feeling better now,” she said softly. ”Thank you, dear. I'm going to sleep now.” She placed her cheek languorously against the lilac pillow. Noel leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He turned off the bed lamp, tiptoed out of the room.
From the hallway, with blurred vision, he glimpsed a light s.h.i.+ning palely from under a door. Samira's door. He walked to within an inch of it, but didn't knock. He'd apologise in the morning.
He continued on to his own room, where a surprising image-an optical illusion, a trick of the light?-awaited him. Sprawled out on his bed was the woman of his dreams, fast asleep, her dark hair spread out like a fan on his bone-white pillow. Her turtleneck sweater was pulled up, across the bridge of her nose, like a half-veil. He folded the bedspread over her bare legs and switched off the lamp. He then went down to his lab, where he worked until dawn.
Chapter 13.
Samira & JJ The next day the Burun house was a hive of activity. Picture alb.u.ms were out. Loose photographs were out, in motley mounds on counters and sideboards. Playing cards were out: one deck halfway through a game of Crazy Eights on the rush matting of the family room, two others on a butler's c.o.c.ktail table in the dining room, paused in double solitaire. Interactive Art, including sand paintings that moved when you turned them, was waiting to be interacted with. A box of Pelican watercolours waited to be painted with. A large inst.i.tutional clock now hung in the kitchen, above a bold-faced calendar, with a way of marking off the days as they pa.s.sed. There was a ”reality” board in the same room, with date, place and weather conditions, as well as a ”Schedule of Activities” bulletin board.
After a brain-deadening day at the library, Noel thought he'd entered the wrong house, a neighbour's perhaps.
”To help her orient herself,” Samira explained in the kitchen. She and JJ were wearing red-bordered name tags. ”Even I had trouble with your old clock, with the Roman numerals. And as for her tiny wrist.w.a.tch, well, not only do you need a magnifying gla.s.s to see it, but it has to be wound wound every day.” every day.”
”She never wore it anyway,” said Noel, examining the reality board.
”Because she could never find it, or couldn't read it?”
”Both, I guess.” Noel looked to his left. On the English-oak table, between stacks of photographs, were bags of groceries and a case of wine. And above the case, pinned to the wall with four green pushpins, was an ink-jet list: MEMORY FUEL.
B12.
Fish; Spinach; Poultry FOLATE.
Leafy Greens; Dry Beans; Peas; Chickpeas Tomatoes; Oranges; Beets; Soybeans Fish; Eggs VITAMIN E.
Leafy Greens; Sweet Potatoes; Avocados Whole Grain ANTIOXIDANTS.
Blueberries; Pomegranates Broccoli; Brussels sprouts; Carrots Cocoa powder OMEGA-3 OILS.
Oily fish (such as sardine and tuna) Walnuts; Flaxseed; Canola ”See the last item on the list?” asked JJ. ”Do you know where it comes from?”
”Canola? Yeah, it's a rapeseed oil, low in erucic acid.”
”It comes from 'Canada oil-low acid.' We invented it!”
Noel knew this too, but pretended not to. ”Really?” he said, while continuing to absorb the various changes and additions. ”So ... where'd all this stuff come from?”
”While the cat's away,” said a grinning JJ, ”the mice will play.”
”But ... who paid for it all?”
”A mystery donor.”
”Come on. Was it you?”
JJ shook his head.
”Who, then?”
”A credit card.”
”I scissored my mom's credit cards.”
”It wasn't your mom's.”
”Whose, then?”
”We can't tell you. When Norval authorised us to use his AmEx, he asked us to shut up about it.”
”I was wondering,” Samira quickly interjected, ”if you could put the important numbers in speed dial, and then we'll put them up on the reality board. And fill out these name badges when people come to visit her. Your mom's been working really hard today, by the way. I've been cracking the whip. Hope you don't mind.”
Noel was getting confused. Information overload. Norval Norval paid? ”What ... kind of things? What's she been doing?” paid? ”What ... kind of things? What's she been doing?”
”Let's see. I asked her to set the table, water the plants, iron two blouses, sort out the laundry ... among other things. JJ's been helping her.”
”You did the laundry? But we have someone who does that. The Bath Lady.”