State of Wonder - Ann Patchett [96]
“Please,” he said, “call me Thomas. I suppose you would say I focus on the drug’s off-target toxicity, except in this case it isn’t toxic. The drug has exhibited benefits unrelated to fertility.”
There were questions to ask, namely what the benefits were and who was paying for his research, but at that moment Easter appeared over the top of the ladder, every bit as wet as he had been coming up out of the river and over the side of the boat. Marina understood the look of panic on his face. He was sure she was dead as she had been sure he was dead. His eyes went quickly around the room, passing over her and stopping only briefly on Thomas Nkomo. He started to go down the ladder again but she stood up quickly and when he realized it was her in that dress with her hair braided he bounded up the last few rungs of the ladder, his T-shirt stretched out by the rain, the mud making a solid cake up to his knees. He began slapping his open hands against her arms, her hips, her back. He could not stop himself. She was his responsibility and he had lost her.
The Lakashi nodded and clucked their tongues and pointed at him but Easter would not look in their direction and so they gave up. There was no teasing the deaf if they refused to look at you.
“The rain is letting up,” Thomas said, craning his head to look beyond the edges of the roof. “Or maybe it’s stopped now and the trees are just dripping. It’s very difficult for me to tell the difference between the current rain and the continued falling of the rain we’ve already had.”
“I don’t mind getting wet again.” Marina put her arm around Easter’s shoulders. She was thinking about his box, the pens and feathers, Anders’ open letter to the world on his behalf.
“Then we should go.” Thomas began a series of deep nods around the room.
“How do you say thank you?”
“To the best of my knowledge the word doesn’t exist in Lakashi. I’ve asked other people that question and no one comes up with anything.”
Marina looked at her hosts, who stared expectantly as if they were hoping she would figure it out. “What about in Portuguese?”
“Obrigado.”
“Obrigado,” Marina said to the pregnant woman but there was no change in expression. She put her hand on the woman’s belly again but the baby was quiet.
Easter tugged at the cloth of Marina’s dress, then he held out his shirt, pointed at his shirt, and then pointed at her. Marina looked around the room. There were a few hammocks strung between poles, some piles of blankets and clothes on the floor, some baskets with roots and some baskets with twigs, but she did not see her shirt and pants. In truth, if he hadn’t mentioned her clothes she probably would have gone right down the ladder without them, she was so distracted by what she had seen. She shook her head. Easter then went to the pregnant woman and held out his shirt to her between two fingers and pointed to Marina. The woman seemed to have no idea what he was getting at. Marina did a pantomime of unbuttoning her shirt, taking her fingers down the front of her dress where the buttons would have been, but again the woman shrugged.
Thomas then said a word, basa or basi, which was probably the word he believed meant clothes, but it was met with the same blank expression as the Portuguese word for thanks. He held out his own shirt and pointed to Marina. The younger woman took her place on the floor and resumed the twisting and knotting of palm fronds as if there had never been visitors at all and then, in what was the most damning gesture of false innocence, the teenage girl sat down to help her. The baby was settled on the floor and given a palm frond to play with and he put the tip of it in his mouth and sucked contentedly.
“I believe you’ve been scammed,” Thomas said.
“Out of my clothes?” Marina couldn’t quite imagine such a thing was possible even as she stood there in a smock. Easter crossed the room and started digging through a pile on the floor and one of the men came over and smacked him on the side of the head with the flat of his hand.
“This isn’t good,” Marina said. “I don’t know