Abraham Verghese - Cutting for Stone

Genet was surprised and touched by the photographs and the fact that I would be carrying that page in my wallet. My tigress fixed her gaze on me with new interest.

“Marion, you've really thought about this, haven't you?”

I described the white silk sheets on the bed, how the sheer cotton curtains would enclose it in the daytime, but at night, they'd be open, as would the doors to the veranda. “I'll cover the bed with rose petals, and when I undress you, I'm going to lick and kiss every inch of your body, starting with your toes …”

She moaned. She put a finger on my lips, her eyeballs rolling back in her head, showing me her throat. “My God, you better stop before I go crazy.” She sighed. “But listen, Marion, what if I tell you that I don't want to get married? I don't want to wait. I want to be deflowered. Now. Not in three years.”

“But what about Hema? Or your mother?”

“I don't want them to deflower me. I want you.”

“That's not—”

A peal of laughter, for which I forgave her because it lifted my spirits. “I know what you mean, silly. What if I don't have your strength to resist? Some days I just want to do it. Don't you? Just to get it over with! Just to know.” She sighed. “If you won't do it, maybe I should ask Shiva? Or Rudy?”

“Not that toilet prince. And Shiva … well, Shiva is no longer a virgin. He's done it already. Besides, I thought you loved me.”

“What?” She clapped her hands in delight, and looked around for Shiva. “Shiva?” She was almost jumping for joy. She'd sidestepped the question of her love for me. She was too shy to profess it, I told myself. “Oh, Shiva, Shiva! We must get all the details from him. Shiva, no longer a virgin, you say? What are you and I waiting for, then?”

“I'm waiting for you and—”

“Oh, stop. You sound like a stupid romance novel. You sound like a girl, for God's sake! If you want first shot you better move fast, Marion.” She seemed serious, no trace of humor in her face. She scared me when she spoke that way. “Otherwise, I have some others in mind. Your friend Gaby, or even the toilet prince, though his breath stinks of cheese.” She burst out laughing again, enjoying my distress but also showing me that she was just joking, thank God.

I couldn't take much more teasing; it was hard to hear her mention the names of other suitors. I spied the stack of women's fashion magazines in her hands. “What's happened to you?” I demanded. I was angry now. I remembered the girl who had mastered Bickham's Penmanship, and who, after Zemui's death, had read books voraciously, anything that Hema fed her. “You used to be … serious,” I said. Now her best friends were two beautiful Armenian sisters. The three of them went shopping together in the afternoons or to the movies where they observed actors whose dress and behavior they held to be the gold standard. They kept all the boys guessing. Genet's grades had once been so good that she skipped a grade and joined our class. But of late she rarely studied, and her grades were average. “What's going on, Genet? Don't you want to be a doctor?”

“Yes, Doctor, I want to be a doctor,” she said coming very close to me. “Doctor, I want you to give me a checkup.” She held her arms apart, the book bag in one hand, the fashion magazines in her other hand. She brought her body close to mine and thrust her hips into me. “I hurt down here, Doctor.”

Rosina jumped out of the front door of our quarters like a jack-in-the-box. Her sudden appearance was startling, and I admit it was comical, but I didn't think that the way Genet burst out laughing would please Rosina.

In a torrent of Tigrinya, with italinya thrown in, Rosina screamed at Genet and descended on us. Genet danced around me to stay out of Rosina's reach, finding even more humor in her mother chasing her. I understood Rosina's words here and there and guessed what she was saying: Where are your brains and what do you think you were doing just now? Who is that boy with the car and do you know he only wants one thing? Why are you pressing against Marion as if you are a bar girl? Each question provoked fresh laughter from Genet.

Rosina glared at me, as if I should answer for her daughter. This was the second time she'd caught Genet and me in a compromising position. She switched to Amharic as she grilled me. “You! Why didn't she come back with you and Shiva? And what were you two doing just now?”

“We're going to be doctors, don't you know, Mother?” Genet shouted in Amharic, tears in her eyes, barely able to speak. “I was teaching him how to examine a woman!”

Rosina's shocked face was Genet's reward, and she found this so hysterical that she dropped her magazines and her book bag, clutched at her stomach, and staggered away in the direction of their quarters. The two of us watched her sashay away, holding her sides. Rosina turned to me, hiding her dark confusion by putting on the stern look she'd use when Shiva or I had been naughty. But it felt artificial, more so now because, at six feet and one inch, I towered over my nanny. “What do you have to say for yourself, Marion?”

I hung my head, took two shuffling steps toward her. “I want to say …,” I said, and then I grabbed Rosina, lifted her up in the air, whirled her about while she beat on my shoulders. “I want to say that I am so happy to see you. And I want to marry your daughter!”

“Put me down. Put me down!”

I put her down, and she tried to slap me, but I jumped away.

“You're crazy, you know that?” Rosina said, trying to adjust her blouse, smoothing out her skirt, determined not to smile at all costs. “The evil spirits have gotten into all you children.” She picked up the book bag and the magazines and retreated after Genet, shouting for her and me to hear, “You two just wait, I'm going to get a stick and line you evil children up and beat that devil out of you.”

“Rosina, why talk to your future son-in-law that way?” I called after her.

She made to turn back and come after me, but I dodged away.

“Madness! Lunacy!” she said and stalked off, talking to herself.

I looked up to see Shiva standing in the big picture window, looking out. The wind in the eucalyptus trees stirred up the kind of dry rustling sound that could fool you into thinking it was a rain squall. But the sky was cloudless. Through the glass I could see Shiva studying me, his face flushed. Our eyes met, and his expression suggested he'd been laughing, that he probably saw and heard everything. I admired his pose, one hand in his pocket, knees locked, his weight on one leg—my brother was elegant even in the act of standing in place; it was a quality he shared with Genet. He rarely smiled, and there was, in the tautness of his upper lip, the hint of a leer. I grinned, holding nothing back. I felt good, pleased with myself. My brother could read my mind. My brother loved me, he loved Genet, and I loved them both. Yes, Rosina was right, madness all around at Missing, but only a madman would want to be anywhere else.

THE MADNESS OF THAT EVENING came at a most inopportune time. It was my last year at LT&C and I was hell-bent on doing well in the school finals. My motivation was simple: a magnificent, ivory-colored hospital, five times as large as Missing, had been built on a rise looking down at Churchill Road and the post office and the Lycée Français. It was to be the teaching hospital of a new medi cal school to be staffed with the help of the British Council, Swiss aid, and USAID. The teachers were distinguished physicians from these countries who had recently retired from long academic careers and ac cepted short assignments to Addis.