Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [67]
On the occasion of His Majesty the king’s twenty-seventh birthday, I was about to be seduced by a tall, recently separated, clearly heartbroken scientist in the home it seemed his family had evacuated in an instant and which he preserved as if they were coming back the next day. I wanted to know everything that had happened for Martin, everything about him; I wanted to understand everything about Claudine and the children. Even though I couldn’t possibly. And then, as he worked his way through his musical collection, Martin said the words that broke the spell, that he had to have known would break the spell.
“My French lover adores this song.”
It hadn’t disturbed me to be on the brink of an embrace with a married-but-separated man whose estranged wife’s slippers I was wearing while I lounged on Thai silk pillows they’d probably bought together in a fit of long-forgotten domestic bliss. Well, it didn’t bother me that much; I had taken it on faith that I wasn’t interfering in an active marriage, but you never really know, do you, what’s happening beyond what someone reveals? They themselves might not really know. But this casual mention of the “lover” changed things. Was this lover the reason Claudine left? Did she live here in Thimphu? If she didn’t, where could they have met and how could they possibly carry on an affair? I tried not to act surprised at Martin’s revelation, as ham-handed as it was.
“French lover. Obviously she has good taste. Someone in Bhutan?”
“No, no, French lover in France.”
“Where did you meet?”
“I met her in Europe. She’s very young.”
By now I had determined that Martin was a year older than me, forty-four.
“How young is very young?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Ah. Ridiculously young. But not quite fifty-fifty young.”
“What’s that?”
“Literally half your age.”
Martin smiled.
“You’d better be careful,” I said, trying on the role of advisor. “Someone that age is bound to want to have children. Eventually.”
“I wouldn’t mind having more children. But I don’t think this will come to that. I don’t know why she has anything to do with an old man like me.”
“Well, I do. Men are tedious until they hit forty.”
Some sense overtook the wine and the port and the exhaustion and the dashed desire to get closer. Martin had revealed that there was a woman in his life; I had misunderstood the cues. Even though I was unlikely to see him again, I couldn’t be a part of this. It was time to go back to my little place in Rabten.
“You know, I’m really exhausted. It’s probably a good time for me to head home.”
Now Martin was the one trying to mask surprise, and he started to stand up, as if he were expecting this. “I’ll drive you down the hill, of course.”
“No need to.”
“Yes, if the dogs don’t get you, the rats might. I insist.”
Small talk was punctuated by dog howls as we wended our way out of the driveway. Had someone pushed the car, he wouldn’t have needed to turn the ignition on to get me home just down the hill. None of the houses we passed showed any sign of life. As we entered my driveway, the two resident chubby Rabten dogs hovered anxiously around Martin’s car. We sat and talked for so long that Martin finally turned off the engine so as not to disturb my neighbors. Without the heat of the engine, I got so cold I folded my coat around my knees, but we just kept on talking.
Finally, I said, wow, it’s really freezing, and it’s late, and thank you for a wonderful meal—God, real green things, delicious, how wonderful—and thanks for all the music. And I leaned over to give him a good-night kiss