found a pot to boil water, and tried the tap. The water was brownish. Sarah made a face, turned off the tap, and put the coffee back in the cupboard. She looked around her and realized that Eli’s apartment was decidedly a dump. Last night, in the dark, she hadn’t noticed. She did remember that the neighborhood where he lived appeared to be a poor one, almost a ghetto. The room smelled moldy. She hadn’t noticed the odor earlier because she had been tipsy on wine. Now as she examined the apartment she felt a little repelled.
“Hey, Eli, can I take a shower, too?” she called.
“Sure, come on in!”
She smiled and opened the bathroom door. The little cubicle was steamy from the hot water. At least he
First things first. She put the toilet seat
“Sorry!” she said as she opened the shower stall and joined him.
They took turns lathering each other’s bodies, pausing every now and then to kiss. He became aroused again and she grasped him firmly with a slippery hand.
“Oh, please, no more,” he said. “I’m raw!”
She giggled and said, “I don’t think your penis agrees with you.”
“My penis
“That’s typical for guys, isn’t it?” she whispered as she continued playing with him.
Afterward they stepped out of the stall and used the same towel to dry off. “You don’t have another towel?” she asked.
“Sorry. I’m poor and destitute.”
That prompted her to ask a question she’d been considering for a while. “Eli, do you have a job?”
“A job? Sure, I have a job.” He looked in the mirror, took a razor, and started to shave without lather.
“What is it?”
“I work for a delivery service. I’m off this week so I can see you.”
“What kind of delivery service?”
“You know, I deliver packages and stuff.”
She pictured the car he drove and shuddered. It was a relic from the early nineties. When she first got in the passenger seat, she imagined that she was in a cartoon car that went
“You don’t do anything with your music?”
“No, that’s hard to do.”
Come to think of it, she thought, she had never heard him play an instrument. In fact, there was no evidence at all in his apartment that he was interested in music. No sheet music, no CDs of classical music, no busts of Beethoven — nothing.
He glanced at her off the mirror. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “When will you know about Juilliard?”
He shrugged. “Those things take time.” He nicked himself with the razor. “Look what you made me do.”
“How did I make you do that?”
“By asking me difficult questions.”
“You should use shaving cream.”
“I’ve always done it this way. Go on, you’re making me nervous!” He pushed her out of the bathroom and shut the door.
Sarah sighed once more, walked over to her pile of clothes that she had dropped on a chair, and dressed.
ELI ended up making the instant coffee himself. They sat at the excuse for a breakfast table as Sarah called Rivka on her cell phone. Her friend was slightly upset with her for not calling earlier. Rivka’s parents were not too happy, either. Sarah apologized and said she’d be there in an hour.
“Why don’t you just come stay here for the rest of your visit?” Eli suggested.
“Oh, I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” Sarah replied.
“Why not? Don’t you like me?” He winked at her.
She punched him and said, “Of course I do! But, you know, I’m staying with Rivka’s parents and all. How would it look?”
He shrugged. “It would look like we’re together.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t feel right. Sorry.” She took his hand.
“It’s okay. Your daddy might not approve, either.”
That struck her as an odd thing to say. “I don’t think my father would even know. He doesn’t keep tabs on me like that. We live in different cities, remember?”
“Oh, right. Your father is the CIA spy.”
“He is not.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Sam Fisher.”
“Why not ‘Sam Burns.’ ”
“My mother changed our last names legally after the divorce.”
“Right. Sam Fisher. Sam Fisher — Government Agent.”
She punched him again. “Stop it. He is not.”
Eli kept at it. He hummed the “James Bond Theme” and pointed his finger like a gun. Sarah laughed. “Cut it out,” she said.
“Okay. But I still think he’s a government agent and not some kind of salesman.”
“Why do you say that? Why do you even care?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just want to know what my future father-in-law is like.”
Sarah blinked. “Your what?”
“You heard me.”
“Eli.”
He grasped her hand and said, “I know, it’s too soon to talk that way. But listen, if you do decide to come live with me in New York, it might happen. I care for you, Sarah. Really.”
She looked down. “I know. Me, too.”
“Tell me about your mother. What was her name?”
“Regan.”
“She worked for the government, too?”
“Yes, I told you that. She was in the NSA.”
“National Security Advisory?”
“Agency.”
“National Security Agency — whatever.”
“She was stationed in Georgia. You know, the former Soviet satellite.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s where she met my father. At the time he
“Once a spy, always a spy, that’s what I always say.” She gave him a look. “Sorry. Go on.”
“Anyway, they had this torrid love affair and eventually got married. In Germany. That’s where I was born, on a military base there.”
“Army brat.”
She nodded. “I guess so.”
“But they didn’t stay together?”
“No. It lasted three years. I really don’t remember much about my father living with us at the time. I was three when he left. My mom always said that the breakup was mutual — in fact it was her idea for him to go away — but I can’t help thinking that he abandoned me. I guess any kid whose father leaves would think that.”
“So what happened?”
“Mom took me back to the States. She continued to work in Washington and raised me by herself. I didn’t really get to know my dad until I was a teenager. I’d see him every now and then, and he was like this
