truly magic when the light strikes. You turn it another way, then another, and you have three, no, four rugs in one.”
“How much is it?” called Gerta, breaking the spell. ‘How much?”
“Eight thousand,” said the magician, now losing his magic. “Only eight thousand dollars.”
“I want to buy that one,” Gerta said. “And also the wedding rug.”
“Leave some for the rest of us,” joked Fiona.
But Lilly wanted none for herself. She wanted the magic to stay here, in the land of olive trees and goats and corrugated tin roofs and bulgar wheat and spices and herbs. She thought of the women on their knees before their looms, plying their threads, making their knots, twisting their yarns for years on end. She wanted to be one of them, living in this land of mustached men and beautiful babies.
*
When they came outside into the heat and light, Lilly blinked as if she were leaving a dark movie theater. She needed a moment to adjust to reality, to the brightness of the sky, to the calls of the tradesmen selling bottles with odd metallic work, jugs of honey, pickled peppers, ceramics, junky tourist plates, jewelry, wooden spoons, calabash gourds.
The women walked together, idly looking about for their men in the small town. Gerta wanted to tell Harrison about the rugs she had ordered and Harriet wanted to find Lance and see if he had taken a Turkish bath. Jane intended to bring Jack back to the rug shop to show him a rug she was taken by.
Fiona seemed to have hatched a sudden plan. When Gerta left the group to look in the window of a jewelry shop, Fiona gathered the other women around. “Here’s my idea. Let’s give Gerta a baby shower tonight. While we’re in town, let’s look for a place where we might buy something for a baby—a wall hanging, a toy, anything. We can all meet later at the shore where Izak let us off. He said he’d be back to get us at four.”
Then she told Gerta, who was coming back toward them, “Sweetie—we just decided we’re all going to do some of our own shopping and meet at the beach at four. You can probably find Harrison in the café on the main street. See you all later!”
*
Lilly wandered the street, smelling fish being grilled in the open, watching the backgammon games being played outside the shops, seeing in her mind the Ozymandias with Marianne and Izak on it, alone, without the rest of them. (Morat and Barish always went ashore to replenish their supplies of cheese, bread, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers. They must be somewhere on these streets and shopping in these markets.)
The small houses, which clustered together back from the road, had red peppers spread out on their tile roofs to dry. The road through the town was unpaved, covered with crushed white rock, and the olive trees along the road were coated with white dust, looking like ghost trees standing in empty gray fields. After the colors and brightness of the Turkish carpet shop, the town itself seemed muted and colorless.
Her life, likewise, had seemed to change in just the last hours from a sunlit photograph to a colorless and empty canvas. Marianne and Izak together on the Ozymandias . Izak leaning over her, crouching over her, giving her a massage.
This was the jealous fantasy of a teenager, she had to shake herself out of it. She noticed a shop that sold women’s clothing and went inside. “Would you have something for a new baby?” she asked the woman who parted a curtain of hanging beads at the back. “Is it possible you have anything like that?”
“It’s not usual what I sell, but wait, please.” The woman went back behind the curtain and came forth holding a soft flannel baby bunting, beautifully hand made, yellow with embroidered flowers on the soft cloth.
Lilly held it to her cheek. “It’s quite beautiful,” Lilly said. “I’d like to buy it.”
“For your baby?” the woman said.
“I wish,” Lilly said.
“This from my baby,” the woman told her. “Big girl now, in
“How much is it?” called Gerta, breaking the spell. ‘How much?”
“Eight thousand,” said the magician, now losing his magic. “Only eight thousand dollars.”
“I want to buy that one,” Gerta said. “And also the wedding rug.”
“Leave some for the rest of us,” joked Fiona.
But Lilly wanted none for herself. She wanted the magic to stay here, in the land of olive trees and goats and corrugated tin roofs and bulgar wheat and spices and herbs. She thought of the women on their knees before their looms, plying their threads, making their knots, twisting their yarns for years on end. She wanted to be one of them, living in this land of mustached men and beautiful babies.
*
When they came outside into the heat and light, Lilly blinked as if she were leaving a dark movie theater. She needed a moment to adjust to reality, to the brightness of the sky, to the calls of the tradesmen selling bottles with odd metallic work, jugs of honey, pickled peppers, ceramics, junky tourist plates, jewelry, wooden spoons, calabash gourds.
The women walked together, idly looking about for their men in the small town. Gerta wanted to tell Harrison about the rugs she had ordered and Harriet wanted to find Lance and see if he had taken a Turkish bath. Jane intended to bring Jack back to the rug shop to show him a rug she was taken by.
Fiona seemed to have hatched a sudden plan. When Gerta left the group to look in the window of a jewelry shop, Fiona gathered the other women around. “Here’s my idea. Let’s give Gerta a baby shower tonight. While we’re in town, let’s look for a place where we might buy something for a baby—a wall hanging, a toy, anything. We can all meet later at the shore where Izak let us off. He said he’d be back to get us at four.”
Then she told Gerta, who was coming back toward them, “Sweetie—we just decided we’re all going to do some of our own shopping and meet at the beach at four. You can probably find Harrison in the café on the main street. See you all later!”
*
Lilly wandered the street, smelling fish being grilled in the open, watching the backgammon games being played outside the shops, seeing in her mind the Ozymandias with Marianne and Izak on it, alone, without the rest of them. (Morat and Barish always went ashore to replenish their supplies of cheese, bread, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers. They must be somewhere on these streets and shopping in these markets.)
The small houses, which clustered together back from the road, had red peppers spread out on their tile roofs to dry. The road through the town was unpaved, covered with crushed white rock, and the olive trees along the road were coated with white dust, looking like ghost trees standing in empty gray fields. After the colors and brightness of the Turkish carpet shop, the town itself seemed muted and colorless.
Her life, likewise, had seemed to change in just the last hours from a sunlit photograph to a colorless and empty canvas. Marianne and Izak together on the Ozymandias . Izak leaning over her, crouching over her, giving her a massage.
This was the jealous fantasy of a teenager, she had to shake herself out of it. She noticed a shop that sold women’s clothing and went inside. “Would you have something for a new baby?” she asked the woman who parted a curtain of hanging beads at the back. “Is it possible you have anything like that?”
“It’s not usual what I sell, but wait, please.” The woman went back behind the curtain and came forth holding a soft flannel baby bunting, beautifully hand made, yellow with embroidered flowers on the soft cloth.
Lilly held it to her cheek. “It’s quite beautiful,” Lilly said. “I’d like to buy it.”
“For your baby?” the woman said.
“I wish,” Lilly said.
“This from my baby,” the woman told her. “Big girl now, in
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