Istanbul Passage

know and use that to put Leon in check, another Georg, his man now, cheap at the price.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to the house, his vision hazy, out of focus.

“All right, a Turkish lira,” Kay said. She was leaning against the doorjamb, watching him, elbow tucked in, holding a cigarette, its smoke curling up past her face. “Two liras?”

He smiled, back now. “Not worth it. How long have you been there?”

“Where do you go? When you go off like that?”

“I was just thinking about Lily’s parties. The way they used to be.”

“They were different?” she said, walking over to him.

“Not really, I guess. They just seemed different.”

“Everyone was younger,” she said, a gentle tease.

He dipped his head. “That, and the way they spent. Buckets of caviar then.”

“You could have fooled me,” Kay said, glancing back at the party. “I had no idea she was down to her last nickel. I mean, my god, a fountain in the middle of the living room.”

“Sofa,” he said then, seeing her expression, “the main hall.” He nodded to a seating area. “I guess that’s where we got the word. Usually there’d be a brazier in the middle, for heat. Fountain out in the garden. Whoever built this was showing off. The layout’s traditional, though. You’d be received in the sofa.” He gestured with his hand, a tour guide. “And mostly you stayed there. But if you were a favored guest, you’d go there, into the selamlik, the men’s quarters.”

“And the women?”

“The other side,” he said, pointing. “Where the dining room is now. See the alcoves around the main room? That’s where you sat. No furniture, not like this anyway. All the chairs. It’s a hodgepodge now. Like Istanbul. It can’t decide what it wants to be.”

Kay stared at the house. “I used to feel that sometimes, didn’t you?” She looked at him. “No, I guess not. Not you. Men. I used to hate it, when I was little. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’”

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nurse, mostly. You had to say something or they wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“But what did you want?”

“What did I want?” she said. “To be married, I guess. I wanted to be safe.”

“So you got what you wanted,” he said, a question.

“Yes.” She looked up at him. “And what did you want to be?”

“I don’t know. What do kids want? Something exciting.” He looked over. “Not safe. Well, and safe at the same time.”

“Yes.” She drew on the cigarette, her eyes still on him, some conversation she was having with herself.

“You enjoying the party? Don’t let Lily wear you out.”

She shook her head. “I feel like it’s someone else, not me. Everybody making a fuss.”

“Somebody new.”

“Meaning it won’t last? I don’t care. I have to go back anyway. Put away my new dress. Not that you noticed. Just like Frank. I wear a dress like this and you don’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” he said, looking at the open neckline.

She turned her head away and dropped her cigarette. “I didn’t mean like that.” She hesitated. “Maybe I did,” she said, looking back at him. “Anyway, you’re not Frank, are you?”

“No.”

“No,” she repeated, still looking. “I can say things to you. I don’t know why. And then I can’t,” she said, her voice running out.

“What?”

“Before. I was standing there and all I could think-” She stopped, then took a breath and put her hand on his sleeve. “Do something for me.” Her eyes green again in the light from the house, darting across his face.

He looked at her, waiting, aware of her hand, the warmth of her, then felt her reach up, pulling his face down to hers. Her mouth just brushed his, a soft pressing, testing, then opened to him, a sudden urgency, as if he were going to be taken away. He put his hand behind to draw her closer, surprised at his own response, alive to her, feeling her down the length of his body. When he started to move away, she held his face to hers again, lips still open, their mouths wet now, excited. They pulled away at the same time, out of breath, staring. Not just a kiss in the garden, neither of them talking, Leon hard.

He moved first, reaching for his handkerchief and slowly wiping the lipstick from his mouth, his eyes still on hers, some line crossed. No need to do it again, neck like kids. She reached over, taking the handkerchief, daubing a spot at the corner of his mouth, intimate, the way people were with each other after sex.

The noise of the party inside seemed farther away, the air in the garden still, broken only by night sounds, rustlings. He put away his handkerchief, glancing through the French windows. A few people passing, talking to one another, Dr. Obstbaum standing, looking straight at them. Leon felt the blood pulse through him, a rush of shame. Then Obstbaum turned away, even more embarrassed, as if he could tell, more than a kiss and now none of them safe.

“What is it?”

“Somebody I know.”

“Did he see?”

“I think so.”

“Well-” she said lightly, wanting it to pass, looking at him again.

“My wife’s doctor.”

“Oh,” she said, physically backing away, some spill spreading toward them.

“I’m sorry,” Leon said. “I mean, in public. To embarrass you like that.”

“He doesn’t know me. He knows you,” she said. “Anyway.” She came closer. “It was my idea.”

“Still.”

“Still,” she said, looking at him, eyes brown now, only flecks of green.

“We’d better go in,” he said.

“In a minute. Just stay for a minute.” Letting the air settle around them, holding on.

“Look-” he started.

“I’ve never been unfaithful to Frank,” she said, her voice flat, so that he wasn’t sure what she meant, how to respond.

“There you are.” Lily’s voice from the steps. “Don’t hide. Everyone wants to meet you.”

“Everyone has,” Kay said, smiling, a quicksilver moment, Leon a beat behind.

Lily came out toward them. “A tryst in the garden,” she said, teasing. “Really, Leon. Like a play.”

“My fault,” Kay said. “I wanted a cigarette. You know how people are-a woman smoking.”

“Mm, look at them,” Lily said, turning her head to the party. “Stealing husbands. The silver too. Yes, you’d be surprised. But smoke and they’re offended.” She turned back to Leon. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Would that stop you?” he said, smiling, but still shaken. Do something for me.

“Of course not. If I am, then it’s a reputation at stake,” she said, having fun, watching them.

“Not yet,” Kay said easily. “Just a cigarette.”

“What happened to your Russian?” Leon said, moving somewhere else. “Bringer of caviar.”

“Yes, I know, dreadful. But important now. Not very distingue, though, are they, the new ones? Remember the Germans? Of course, terrible people, but the consul was charming. Four languages. Not like the Japanese. You remember, Leon? Two of them. Never a word. Not one. Bowing only. Then like birds, picking at the food, making little sounds.”

Kay laughed. “And how were the Americans?”

“Oh, serious. They’re always serious.”

“Always?” Leon said, half listening.

“Always. They want to save the world. You have to be serious for that.”

“The Russians are serious,” Leon said. “What do they want to do? Or didn’t Melnikov say?”

Lily shot him a look. “Everybody knows what they want to do,” she said, then turned to Kay, light again. “You