Cutting for Stone - Abraham Verghese [163]
“Madam,” Rosina said to Hema in Amharic, “I've had my hands full with this girl. All the boys are chasing her. Does she have the sense to discourage them? No. And look how she dresses!” I was distressed to hear a trace of pride in her complaint.
Genet said, “I just love the clothes in Asmara. Oh! I brought postcards. Dov’è la mia borsetta, Mama? I want to show you. Oh, it's in the taxi … Hold on.” She went headfirst through the open window of the taxi, treating us to a view of her panties. Rosina screamed at her in Tigrinya, to no avail.
Genet thrust postcards at us. “Oh, Asmara, you can't imagine what a beautiful city the Italians built so long ago. See?” It wasn't something to brag about: being colonized for so long before Ethiopia. The strange, colorful buildings were all angles, like something out of a geometry set.
HEMA AND GHOSH soon drifted back into the house. The taxi driver helped Gebrew unload wooden stools and a new bed into Rosina's quarters. The bed was made of hand-carved dark wood, a gift from Rosina's brother in Asmara, we learned.
I sat on the new bed, gazing at Genet. It felt as if she'd been away for years. I was tongue-tied. “So how was your winter, Marion?” If I was unsure of myself in front of her, she didn't know the meaning of shy.
I'd saved up things to tell her. I even had a script. But this tall beautiful girl—this woman, I should say—sitting next to me, so Eritrean and so enamored of things Italian, messed up my speech. The patients I'd seen, the books I'd read … none of this could compete with Asmara.
“Oh, nothing really,” I said. “You know how it is here in the long rains.”
“That's it? Nothing? No movies, no adventures? And … girlfriends?”
I was still smarting from Rosina's description of the boys chasing Genet in Asmara. It was a betrayal. Surely Genet had a role in that: What boy would bother you if you told him to get lost?
“Well,” I said, “I don't know about girlfriends, but …”
Reluctantly at first, I told her about my visit to my mother's old room, but I recast my time with the probationer as something casual, portraying myself as the indifferent participant. However, the further I got into the story, the less I was able to sustain that tone.
Genet's eyes became as round as the hoops on her ears.
“So you did it with her?” she said.
“No!” I said.
She seemed disappointed, when I would have expected her to be jealous.
“For God's sake, Marion, why not?”
I shook my head. “I didn't because …”
“Because what? Spit it out,” she said, poking my side, as if to help the words come out. “Who are you waiting for? The Queen of England? She's married you know.”
“I didn't do it, because … I knew it would be wonderful, more than wonderful. I knew it would be fantastic—”
“What kind of explanation is that?” she said, rolling her eyes in frustration.
“But … I knew I wanted my first time to be with you.”
There, I said it.
Genet looked at me for the longest time, her mouth open. I felt vulnerable. I held my breath hoping what came out of her mouth next wouldn't be mockery or amusement. Ridicule would destroy me.
She leaned over, her eyes soft, her expression loving and tender, and she took my chin in both her hands and shook it side to side as if I were a little baby.
“Ma che minchia?” Rosina asked, her hands on her hips, rudely interrupting us. I hadn't noticed her come back into the room.
Genet burst out laughing. Rosina didn't find it amusing, but Genet was losing her breath, keeling over. Rosina glared at her, then gave up, muttering to herself. This hysterical laughter of Genet's was something new.
When she could speak, Genet explained. “ Ma che minchia?’ means ‘What the fuck?’ which I kept saying in Asmara. I learned it from my cousins. My mother threatened to slap me every time I said it. And now she says it, can you believe it? … So, Marion—che minchia, eh?”
WE HAD DINNER together in the bungalow, Genet seated with us, while Rosina and Almaz ate in the kitchen.
It had become my practice to take over the Grundig once wed eaten. Often I listened to the Rock of Africa till