Abraham Verghese - Cutting for Stone

What did she mean?

“Do what?” I said.

Anything.

She let me go and she fell back on her bed. She was spread-eagled. She was ready. For whatever I might want to do.

Yes, there was something I wanted to do. If I were given free rein, dominion over her body, I knew I'd discover it by instinct. I had a general idea. I was nearly fourteen after all.

She was giving me license and still I waited.

She rolled over onto her belly, showing me her buttocks and peering at me over her shoulder. Her eyelids were puffy, her expression dreamy and faraway She spun one hundred eighty degrees so her head faced me. She propped herself up on her elbows. Her breasts hung down, the nipples barely concealed. She followed my gaze to her cleavage.

I heard voices and footsteps outside. The other nurses and probationers were back from dinner.

I didn't want to leave. But the world had intruded. My hesitation doomed me. That and her uninvited confession.

“I want to dance with you again,” I said, in a whisper.

“You can …,” she whispered, but as if that were the wrong answer.

“I do want to do … anything with you.”

“Yes! That's what I want, too.” She was kneeling on the bed now, brightening, smiling through her tears. “Come,” she said, arms extended, beckoning.

“But nothing right now. I'll be back another day.” I put my hand on the doorknob.

“But … how about anything now?” she said, loud enough for the world to hear.

I slipped out quickly, hoping that if anyone saw me, they'd think it perfectly normal for me to visit.

The rain hadn't let up. I let it beat on my head. I didn't mind. Rain was familiar. But this balancing on the edge of feelings so powerful they seemed capable of making me fly, this was a revelation. By the time I reached our quarters I was soaked. When I saw the door to Rosina and Genet's room, I longed for the padlock not to be there. I stood staring at that closed door.

It was at that moment, with raindrops smacking me on the fontanel, that I came to the decision that I must marry Genet. Yes, that was my destiny. What I felt with the probationer, I never wanted to feel with anyone but Genet. There were too many temptations out there, great forces ready to shake me free of my avowed intent. I wanted to succumb to temptation. But with just one woman, and that was Genet.

If I married her, I'd solve everything. It would keep Rosina from pulling away, it would make Hema, Ghosh, and Rosina happy, and they'd have both of us as their children. I could see us having kids of our own. We'd tear down the servant's quarters and build the twin to the main house, with a linking corridor, so we could all be under the same roof; we'd have a room, or maybe a suite, for Shiva. He'd be happy to have Genet as a sister-in-law. Since Shiva wasn't one to look back, to celebrate the past, it was all the more important for me to preserve the family, keep us as one.

I STEPPED INTO THE HOUSE, dripping water on the floor. In the bathroom I stripped naked and studied myself in the mirror, looking to see what the probationer saw. I was tall for my age, nearly six feet, and my skin was fair. I could perhaps have passed for someone of Mediterranean ancestry; my irises were brown—I never saw the hint of blue I could see in Shiva's. My expression seemed unduly earnest, particularly when my hair was damp. Once it dried, the curls would return and would have a life of their own, refusing to be corralled. This is what it means to arrive at manhood, I thought, hands on my hips, turning to admire my flanks, my buttocks.

I dressed and returned to the kitchen, breathing in the scents steaming out of the pots and snatching a piece of meat before Almaz could slap my hand away. She scolded me, but it was a sweet sound, as was the music from the living room with the heavy beat of a tabla, and the thump and thud of Hema and Shiva dancing, of Hema calling out instructions. I heard the rattle of the loose bumper on the Volkswagen as Ghosh came up the driveway. I felt ecstatic, as if I was at the epicenter of our family, missing only Genet and Rosina who surely would come back, and then our family would be whole.

I pushed out of my mind what the probationer said about what shed done—or hadn't done—for my mother. There wasn't any point in dwelling in the pain of the past, not when the future could hold such pleasure. And as for my father? No, he wouldn't ever walk through those gates; I now knew that. Whatever Thomas Stone had, wherever he was at this moment, he had no idea what he'd given up in the exchange.

GENET AND ROSINA RETURNED two days before school began; they arrived with the clamor and excitement of the Indian circus coming to the Merkato. Their taxi from the bus station sagged on its springs, the roof carrier and trunk so laden with goods.

The first thing I noticed was Rosina's gold tooth and the grin that went with it. Genet, too, was transformed, radiant, wearing a traditional cotton skirt and tight bodice, with a matching shama around her shoulders. She shrieked with happiness as she leaped out to hug Hema, almost knocking her over. Then she rushed to Ghosh, then Shiva, then Almaz and me, and then back into Hema's arms. When Rosina hugged me, it was loving and affectionate; but her lengthy embrace of Shiva made me feel a stab of envy. Her absence allowed me to now see clearly what I'd overlooked before—that she favored Shiva. Was this a result of her seeing me in the pantry with her naked daughter? Or had she always had a soft spot for Shiva? And was I the only one to notice?

They were all talking over one another now. Rosina, one arm still around Shiva, allowed Gebrew to admire her gold tooth.

“Genet, darling, your hair!” Hema said, because it was braided into tight cornrows, like her mother's, each braid springing free at the back of her head where it was tied around a shiny disk. “You cut it?”

“I know! Don't you love it? And see my hands,” she said. Her palms were orange with henna.

“But it's so … short. And you pierced your ears, darling!” Hema said. Blue hoops hung down from her lobes. “My God, girl,” she said, holding Genet by the shoulders, “Look at you! You've grown taller and … fuller.”

“Your tits are bigger,” Shiva said.

“Shiva!” Hema and Ghosh said at the same time.

“Sorry,” he said, surprised by their reaction. “I meant her breasts are bigger,” he said.

“ Shiva! That isn't the sort of thing you say to a woman,” Hema said.

“I can't say it to a man,” Shiva said, looking impatient.

“It's all right, Ma,” Genet said. “And it's true. I'm a B, or maybe even a C!” she said looking down proudly at her breasts, which pointed up like stargazers.

Rosina could tell what was being discussed. “Stai zitto!” she said to Genet, her finger on her lips, which made Genet laugh.

“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.