her spoon. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to interrogate you. I guess I just can’t stop acting like a reporter. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”
He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. “I certainly thought I loved her at the time. But she was full of complexes. She was extremely attached to her family. Hated change of any kind, couldn’t bear traveling, didn’t ever want to leave Ann Arbor. It’s hard to imagine a worse fit, frankly.”
“Did you part as friends?”
“I wouldn’t say that. She was pretty angry because I got involved with someone else right away. But now she’s remarried with a couple of kids. Still lives in Ann Arbor.”
“The someone else—was that the obligatory love affair that follows a divorce? The one that always ends badly?”
“No. The one that ended badly came later.”
The waiter brought the coffee and she took a sip to cover the silence.
“Do you want to tell me about that?” she asked.
“Not really.”
An uncomfortable pause.
“Well, so after the marriage, then what?”
“Then there were others. Many others. But nothing worked out.”
She realized she was pushing kind of hard. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right one.”
He put out his cigarette. “I thought I had. I’m still recovering from that. Listen, Lindsay, I’m not . . .” His voice trailed off. “I can’t seem to make the commitments that most women want—that most women have a right to want.”
“Are you warning me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I believe you,” he answered. “I think you could do just about anything you wanted to.”
“We’ll see.” She smiled and leaned back. “Don’t you want to know about me?”
“I don’t think I’ll find out what I want to know by asking you questions. Shall we go?”
Walking back to the hut, he reached for her hand. In the room, James busied himself trying to fix the mosquito net by tying knots to close the holes. She lay down and watched, wanting him to make the first move.
He finished working on the net and turned to her. He seemed to be struggling against his own desire.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“A little. Are you?”
“Yes. But I have some reading to do. Will the light bother you?”
He opened his briefcase and took out a folder. Heading to the bathroom, she murmured just loud enough for him to hear: “It’s not the light that’s bothering me.”
She washed up, wondering what to sleep in; her sexy nightgown no longer felt appropriate. She settled on an oversized T-shirt. She lay down on the bed, feeling ridiculous, angry at him and at herself. Was it possible she had so misunderstood him? Had her reluctance on the beach so easily turned him off?
The bedside phone rang and she picked up the receiver. After a moment she answered: “Listen, that’s just not possible. I cannot wait two days for a line to New York. I need to get through by tomorrow morning.” She heard her voice rising. “How can you call yourself an international hotel if I can’t make a phone call or use the Internet or send a fax? What am I supposed to do, use the talking drum?”
She slammed down the receiver.
James put his work aside and with a sigh walked over to the bed. He sat next to her, brushed the persistent stray hair out of her eyes, and said gently, “That sounded pretty angry.”
“Well, I have a right to be.”
“Are you sure it was the hotel that made you mad?”
“Yes, of course. What else would it be?”
“I thought it might be me.”
She fidgeted, playing with the mosquito netting.
“I think I may have misread our relationship, that’s all,” she said casually, getting up to unpack.
“This is what I was trying to warn you about,” he said.
She shrugged. “I thought you were talking about a commitment. I didn’t think that extended to enjoying each other.”
He smiled. “Aren’t we enjoying each other?”
She put down
He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. “I certainly thought I loved her at the time. But she was full of complexes. She was extremely attached to her family. Hated change of any kind, couldn’t bear traveling, didn’t ever want to leave Ann Arbor. It’s hard to imagine a worse fit, frankly.”
“Did you part as friends?”
“I wouldn’t say that. She was pretty angry because I got involved with someone else right away. But now she’s remarried with a couple of kids. Still lives in Ann Arbor.”
“The someone else—was that the obligatory love affair that follows a divorce? The one that always ends badly?”
“No. The one that ended badly came later.”
The waiter brought the coffee and she took a sip to cover the silence.
“Do you want to tell me about that?” she asked.
“Not really.”
An uncomfortable pause.
“Well, so after the marriage, then what?”
“Then there were others. Many others. But nothing worked out.”
She realized she was pushing kind of hard. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right one.”
He put out his cigarette. “I thought I had. I’m still recovering from that. Listen, Lindsay, I’m not . . .” His voice trailed off. “I can’t seem to make the commitments that most women want—that most women have a right to want.”
“Are you warning me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I believe you,” he answered. “I think you could do just about anything you wanted to.”
“We’ll see.” She smiled and leaned back. “Don’t you want to know about me?”
“I don’t think I’ll find out what I want to know by asking you questions. Shall we go?”
Walking back to the hut, he reached for her hand. In the room, James busied himself trying to fix the mosquito net by tying knots to close the holes. She lay down and watched, wanting him to make the first move.
He finished working on the net and turned to her. He seemed to be struggling against his own desire.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“A little. Are you?”
“Yes. But I have some reading to do. Will the light bother you?”
He opened his briefcase and took out a folder. Heading to the bathroom, she murmured just loud enough for him to hear: “It’s not the light that’s bothering me.”
She washed up, wondering what to sleep in; her sexy nightgown no longer felt appropriate. She settled on an oversized T-shirt. She lay down on the bed, feeling ridiculous, angry at him and at herself. Was it possible she had so misunderstood him? Had her reluctance on the beach so easily turned him off?
The bedside phone rang and she picked up the receiver. After a moment she answered: “Listen, that’s just not possible. I cannot wait two days for a line to New York. I need to get through by tomorrow morning.” She heard her voice rising. “How can you call yourself an international hotel if I can’t make a phone call or use the Internet or send a fax? What am I supposed to do, use the talking drum?”
She slammed down the receiver.
James put his work aside and with a sigh walked over to the bed. He sat next to her, brushed the persistent stray hair out of her eyes, and said gently, “That sounded pretty angry.”
“Well, I have a right to be.”
“Are you sure it was the hotel that made you mad?”
“Yes, of course. What else would it be?”
“I thought it might be me.”
She fidgeted, playing with the mosquito netting.
“I think I may have misread our relationship, that’s all,” she said casually, getting up to unpack.
“This is what I was trying to warn you about,” he said.
She shrugged. “I thought you were talking about a commitment. I didn’t think that extended to enjoying each other.”
He smiled. “Aren’t we enjoying each other?”
She put down
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