aYou do a good job of this,a Milton said, keeping his eyes towards the river. aI admire your patience.a aBelieve me, I have no patience.a aThen you create the illusion of patience. In the end the effect is the same.a aAll I want to do is find Dr. Swenson and go home,a she said slowly. The words coming out of her mouth felt hot.
aAnd to get to Dr. Swenson and to get home you must first get past the Bovenders. The Bovenders are the guards of the gate. It is their job to keep you away from her, thatas what theyare paid for. I have no idea if they know where she is, but I am certain that no one else knows. They like you. Perhaps theyall figure something out.a An arm went up in the water and waved and Milton raised his hand and waved back.
Where in the world was the rain? Those blinding cataracts that she had endured day after day? She needed one now. It didnat necessarily cool things down but at least for a while it blocked out the sun. aThey couldnat like me.a aThey think youare very natural. Mrs. Bovender told me that. They see you as a person who is honestly grieving her friend and trying to get information about his death.a aWell, thatas true,a she said, although that description only covered her obligations to Karen.
aTheyare starting to think that Dr. Swenson would like you,a Milton said.
Marina felt the top of her head turning soft as the sun worked into her brain, unloosening its coils. aDr. Swenson knew me once already. Iam quite certain she had no feelings for me one way or the other.a She mopped at her face with a large red handkerchief Rodrigo had pressed on her that morning. When she declined it once he had made her a gift of it, though probably it went on Vogelas account all the same. Under her clothes she felt the swimsuit with every inhalation. It wrapped around her body like an endless bandage, growing larger and looser as it soaked her up. She kept pushing the cloth against her face. Her vision was clouded by the sweat in her eyes. She could only make out the most basic elements of the landscape: sand, water, sky.
aWhat the Bovenders require is diplomacy,a Milton said. aThey just need some more of your time. They want to study you and make sure you are what you seem.a Marina squinted out towards the waving line of the horizon. aI donat see them anymore.a What she meant to say was that she thought she might faint. At that point she might have said Miltonas name. She didnat fall, but she was thinking of falling, and with that thought he took her arm and walked her over the remaining expanse of sandy beach to the river. He walked her into the water up to their knees and then up to their waists. It was like a bath, silky and warm. The current was so slight it barely disturbed her clothes. She wanted to lie down in it. Milton dipped his own handkerchief into the water and spread it wet over the top of her head. aItas better, isnat it,a he said, though it wasnat a question.
She nodded. Jackie had been right to make Barbara go in. It was lifesaving. When Marina looked down she saw nothing, just a line where her torso vanished into the water. All around them children kicked their rafts and jumped off one anotheras shoulders. aHow do you know whatas under there?a she asked him.
aYou donat,a Milton said. aYou donat want to.a When Marina got back to the hotel room and checked her cell phone she had two messages from Mr. Fox, one from her mother, and one from Karen Eckman, whose number showed up in Andersa name. She might as well have been home. She was feeling slightly sympathetic towards Dr. Swensonas refusal to have a phone at all. She took a cold shower, drank a bottle of water, and went to bed, where she had a dream about losing her father in a train station. When Barbara Bovender called on the hotel line at nine that night she woke her up. aWe wanted to check on you,a she said. aIam afraid we nearly killed you this afternoon with our idea of fun.a aNo, no,a Marina said, disoriented by sleep and heat and dreams. aIam fine. I just havenat gotten used to all of it yet. I suppose it takes some time.a aIt does!a Barbara said, sounding gleeful for no reason. aIam so much better at it now than I used to be. The secret is not to let the heat keep you in. Jackie swears the air conditioning weakens your immune system after a while. The more you get out the more you get used to it. You should come over to the apartment and have a drink.a aNow?a Marina said, as if she might have something else to do.
aA little walk at night would do you good.a Maybe the Bovenders were the guards at the gate but it was also true that they were lonely. There was nothing keeping Marina at the Hotel Indira. Tomo had moved her to a bigger room two days before, a reward that acknowledged the length of her stay, but it was still as musty and dismal as the one before it. There was a better view but the same metal bar attached to the wall for clothes. Marina looked at her wool coat, even from a distance she could see the lacework of holes the moths had eaten near the collar. She said shead come over.
Walking through the city streets past all the closed up shops, Marina could understand how exciting it would be to see one of them open now. If there had been a light on in Rodrigoas store tonight she would doubtlessly have gone and stood with the crowd on the street, craning her neck to try and see what was going on inside. She had not come up with a time line for how long she would wait in Manaus if the waiting continued to be nothing but an exercise in frustration, but she could feel herself coming to the end. Marina was used to being good at her work but she was no good at this. The same concierge who had been sitting at the desk in the lobby of Dr. Swensonas apartment building at eight in the morning was sitting there still at nine-thirty at night. It appeared he was very glad to see her. After all, she hadnat been by in several days. aBovenders,a she said to him, and then touched her index finger to her chest. aMarina Singh.a When Barbara Bovender opened the door and invited her in, Marina had the sense that she was crossing a portal from the wasteland of Manaus to another world entirely. Granted, she had spent more than a week in a badly furnished hotel room wearing the same three outfits she rinsed out in the bathtub at night. She was very far from beauty, and yet she had to think that this place would have struck her as beautiful no matter where she came across it. She praised it lavishly, sincerely.
aYouare so sweet,a Barbara said, walking her down a hallway past a series of small framed works on paper that could not have been Klee and yet looked like Klee. The hallway brought them into a large open living room with a high ceiling. Two sets of tall French doors were open onto a balcony and a breeze that Marina hadnat felt anywhere in the city stirred the edges of the sheer silk curtains that had been drawn aside. The breeze smelled like jasmine and marijuana. From the height of the sixth floor the river appeared to be rimmed in small, blinking lights. If Marina didnat focus her gaze she could have been in any number of splendid cities. aItas a wonderful place,a Barbara said, looking at her home with impartial judgment. aIam sure the bones have always been good but it really was a wreck when we got here.a aBarbaraas done amazing things,a Jackie said, taking a small hit off a joint and holding it up to her. Marina shook her head and so he brought her a glass of white wine instead, kissing her on the cheek when he gave it to her as if they were old friends. She was surprised how much the kiss startled her, more even than the joint. Jackie raised his hands, motioning to the walls around him. aThe woman who lived here before us, Annickas last assistant, had her sisters strung up in hammocks all over the place.a Barbara took the joint from her husband, allowing herself a modest inhalation before stubbing it out in a small silver ashtray. She gave herself a moment and then exhaled. aAnnick just wanted something nice. That was the only thing she said to me about it. Of course you would, wouldnat you? Coming in from all that time in the jungle, thatas not so much to ask. Good sheets, good bath towelsa"a aA decent glass of wine,a Jackie said and raised his glass as an indicator that they should all drink up.
There was something perfectly spare about it all, a bouquet of some sort of white flowers she had never seen before on the dining room table, a long, low leather bench in front of an equally long white sofa, walls that were painted a shade of blue so pale it might not have been blue at all, it might have been the evening light. And then there were the Bovenders themselves, whose many physical attributes were highlighted by the elegance of their surroundings. Barbaraas stacking bracelets seemed to have been carved from the same wood as the floor boards so that one might notice how the color of the floor complimented the warm color of her skin. Still, it was difficult to imagine Dr. Swenson perched on that sofa. Marina doubted Dr. Swensonas feet would touch the floor. aWhere do you go when she comes in?a Barbara shrugged. aSometimes we just move to the guest room. It depends on whether or not she needs us for anything. If we have some time we go to Suriname or French Guiana so Jackie can surf.a aI need to get to Lima,a he said, glad to have the topic turn in his direction if only for a sentence. aThe waves are exploding there, but getting flights from Manaus to Lima is an unbelievable bitch. It would take me about as much time to walk there.a Marina wandered over to the balcony. She couldnat take her eyes off the river; that thick brown soup was a mirror in the darkness. aI wouldnat have expected there would be something like this in Manaus,a she said. She wouldnat have expected the Meursault either, and she took another sip. She couldnat help but wonder what all of this was costing. It couldnat really matter to Vogel. The expense of one apartment in the Amazon for a researcher who didnat use it was nothing when put against the potential profits of fertility.
aThere was a lot of money here once, you have to remember that,a Barbara said. aIt used to be more expensive to live in Manaus than in Paris.a aThey came, they built, they left,a Jackie said, dropping himself down on the sofa and stretching his bare feet out on the bench in front of him. aWhen there wasnat any money to be made in boiling the rubber out of the jungle anymore that was it, instant history. The people around here were very glad to see those people go.a aI think thereas a lot about this city thatas still very elegant. This building is as good as anything youad find in a real city,a Barbara said. aAnd Nixon takes care of everything at the front desk like a professional. I tell him all the time he could get a job in Sydney.a aNixon?a Marina said.
aSeriously,a Jackie said, his eyes lightly pinked.
aWell, he isnat much for delivering the mail,a Marina said, and then she thought again. aUnless you did get the notes I sent you.a Barbara stood a little straighter. In her heels she was taller than Marina. aWe didnat. I told you that.a Marina shrugged. aSo much for Nixon.a aAll the mail goes into a box for Annick.a She walked away and came back from another room holding a neat looking steel crate with handles on either side, the kind of thing an idle girl would order from a design catalogue to be delivered to Brazil when putting mail into a cardboard box seemed too messy. aLook,a she said. aI donat even check it. Annick says straight in the box and so there it goes. I keep it in her office.a She put the crate down on the bench near her husband. There was a pale V marked across the tops of his brown feet where his flip-flops had interfered with his tan. aI used to answer the letters, to tell people they couldnat come to see her, but in the end Annick decided that any interaction was a form of encouragement so she told me to stop.a aThese people take no as encouragement,a Jackie said.
Marina came and sat beside the box, putting her glass of wine down on the floor. She did not ask. She slipped her fingers into the back and moved the letters forward. She didnat have to go very far before she found her own handwriting on the hotelas white envelopes. aBovender,a she said, dropping the first one on the bench and then going back to find the other two. aBovender, Bovender.a Jackie leaned forward and plucked the paper from the envelope. aDear Mr. and Mrs. Bovender,a he began.
aPlease!a Barbara said, and covered her ears with her hands to make her point. aIt makes me feel like a total idiot. From now on Iall look at the mail, I promise.a Marina looked up at her. aDonat you pay the bills?a Jackie shook his head. aThey all go straight to Minnesota. I bet that was something to set up.a Of course, so no one would be bothered. Marina went back to the box. The magazines stood up neatly at the side, Harperas, The New Yorker, Scientific American, the New England Journal. There seemed to be a host of letters from Vogel, letters from other countries, envelopes from hospitals, universities, drug research companies that were not her own. Her fingers kept flipping, flipping.
Barbara peered over the edge and watched her employeras correspondence sift through the hands of someone she in fact did not know at all. aIam not so sure we should be doing this,a she said in a tentative voice. It seemed it was just now occurring to her that bringing out the entire box of mail might not have been her best decision. aUnless you wrote us more letters. She doesnat like for usa"a But there it was. Marina didnat have to go so deep into the crate. It wasnat such a very long time ago that he had been here. aAnders Eckman.a She dropped the blue airmail envelope on top of the stationery from her hotel. Jackie pulled up his feet quickly, as if she had set down something hot.
Barbara leaned forward, looked without touching. aMy God. Who do you think itas from?a Anders Eckman, in care of Dr. Annick Swenson, a particularly inaccurate phrasing. aHis wife,a Marina said. Once she had identified Karenas handwriting she could find the letters quickly. Everything she pulled from the box now would have been written after he had gone into the jungle. Writing in care of Dr. Swenson in Manaus was the only chance Karen had of reaching him once he had left the city, there were no other addresses. Before he was in the jungle she would have called him or e-mailed or, if she was feeling sentimental, sent him a letter at the hotel. Karen would have told him about the boys and the snow, told him to come home now because he was sounding worse, and anyway, they obviously had not thought this through well enough at the outset. Marina knew the contents of every letter that passed through her hands and one by one she dropped them onto the bench where Jackieas feet had been. She could see Karen sitting at the island in her kitchen, perched on top of a high stool, writing page after page in the morning after she had taken the boys to school and then again at night when she had put them to bed, her head bent forward, her blond hair pushed behind her ears. Marina could read them as if she were standing over Karenas shoulder. Come home. The letters came singly and in pairs. They came in groups of three. Karen would have written every day, maybe twice a day, because there was nothing else she could do to help him. But she didnat help him. Marina did not doubt that Anders knew Karen was writing him and knew that her letters had hit a wall in Manaus. He would have known his wifeas loyalty as a correspondent. But by not receiving those letters he never knew that she was hearing from him. Anders would have died wondering if any of his letters had made it out of the jungle. Who wouldnat imagine that the boy in the dugout log would have simply taken the coins he was given and let the envelopes float in the water as soon as he had rounded the bend in the river, and that those letters were divided between the fish and the freshwater dolphins? In the meantime, Karen Eckman turned her love into industry, writing her husband with a diligence that was now spread across a low leather bench in Dr. Swensonas apartment.
At some point Barbara had gone to sit next to her husband. They held their wine glasses and watched the growing stack of mail with a flush of guilt on their cheeks. aWhat will you do with them all?a Barbara asked once Marina had combed the box for the final time.
Marina leaned over to pick up the few strays that had fallen onto the floor. aI donat know,a she said. aIall take them. I donat know what Iall do with them.a aThis oneas different,a Jackie said, and picked up a smaller envelope from the pile.
Marina took the envelope, giving it the most cursory inspection. aItas from me.a aYou were writing to him too?a Barbara asked.
Marina nodded. There would have been notes from the boys in there as well. Karen would have addressed the envelopes for them.
aWere you in love with him?a Marina looked up, her hands full of thin blue envelopes. Barbara Bovender was more interested now. She leaned in closer, a glossy chunk of hair swinging forward. aNo,a Marina said. She started to say something sharp and just as quick had another idea entirely: yes. The very thought of it brought the blood to her cheeks. Yes. She hadnat loved him when he was alive, and not when that letter was written, but now? She thought of Anders when she went to sleep at night and when she woke up in the morning. Every street she walked down she imagined him standing there. She imagined being with him when he died, his head in her lap, just so she wouldnat have to think of him alone, and for a minute at least she had fallen in love with her dead friend. aWe worked together,a she said. aWe did the same research. We ate lunch together.a Marina picked up the letter she had written. It was no doubt full of statistics on plaque reduction she had thought he might enjoy. She was glad head never received it. aYou get used to people. You get attached to them. It was seven years. But no.a As far as Marina was concerned the evening was over. She rested the stack of letters in her lap. She was tired and sad, and she couldnat imagine that she and her hosts had anything left to say to one another.
But the Bovenders wanted her to stay. Barbara said she could make a light supper and Jackie suggested that they watch a movie. aWe got a copy of Fitzcarraldo,a he said. aHow crazy is that?a aYou could even sleep over if you wanted,a Barbara said, her pale eyes brightening at the thought. aIt would be so much fun. Weall just agree now that weall stay up too late and have too much to drink.a The twenty years between Marina and the Bovenders formed an impenetrable gulf. For whatever she thought of her hotel room, she knew a slumber party might well kill her. aI appreciate it, I really do, but all that sun this afternoon wore me out.a aWell, at least let Jackie walk you back to your hotel,a Barbara said, and Jackie, in an unexpected flourish of chivalry, was on his feet at once and looking for his sandals.
aIam fine,a Marina said. She put the bundle of letters in her bag. She wanted to go quickly now, before there was another offer to decline.
Barbara began to wilt as soon as it was clear her company was leaving. Her inability to come up with something more enticing to offer had defeated her. aWe manage to make a worse impression every time we see you,a she said. Marina assured her it wasnat true. Barbara leaned a shoulder against the wall. It couldnat be said that she was blocking the exit, she didnat have the girth for that, but clearly she was stalling. aIt would be better for me if you didnat tell Annick about the letters,a she said finally, twisting her bracelets. aI donat think shead like it if she thought I was letting people go through the mail, even though you were completely right to get the letters from Dr. Eckmanas wife.a Marina thought of all the times another resident had asked her not to tell Dr. Swenson something, the lab results that had not confirmed a diagnosis, the details of a badly handled exam. She remembered Dr. Swensonas canny knack for knowing all of it anyway. aIam hardly in a position to tell her anything.a Barbara took Marinaas hand in her two cool hands. aBut you will be, when you see her again.a aThese letters belong to Anders and to Karen. They arenat anyone elseas business.a Barbara gave her the slightest smile of genuine gratitude. aThank you,a she said. She squeezed Marinaas hand.
Once Marina was back at the hotel she put the letters on the night table and looked at the neat stack they made. She didnat like having them there. They were certainly too personal to leave in Dr. Swensonas box but they were too personal to be with her as well. She moved them to the night tableas shallow drawer beside a Portuguese Bible before calling Karen. She had a need to hear her voice, thinking it would tamp down the guilt for that sudden bout of love shead felt for Karenas husband.
aItas so late,a Marina said. She hadnat thought about the time until she dialed.
aI never sleep,a Karen said. aAnd the worst part is nobody calls after eight. Theyare afraid of waking up the boys.a aI didnat think of that.a aIam glad. Nothing wakes them up anyway. I called you this morning. Mr. Fox gave me your cell phone number.a aYouave heard from him?a aHe checks on us.a Karen yawned. aHeas a better person than I thought he was. Or heas lonely. I canat tell. He says you havenat found her yet.a aI found the Bovenders.a aThe Bovenders!a Karen said. aMy God, how are they?a aAnders talked about them?a aAnd very little else for a while. They drove him out of his mind. He did not love the Bovenders.a aI could see that.a aHe felt like they were stringing him along, like they were always about to produce Dr. Swenson but they never quite got around to it. He was never really sure whether or not they knew where she was, but he spent a lot of time being nice to them.a aWell then, I guess Iam right on schedule. How much time was he in Manaus before he found Dr. Swenson?a Karen thought about it. aA month? Iam not positive. I know it was at least a month.a Marina closed her eyes. aI donat think I can spend a month with the Bovenders.a aWhat did they say about Anders?a aThey didnat know he was dead,a Marina said.
There was a long silence on the line after that. Back in Eden Prairie, Marina heard Karen put down the phone and then there was nothing to do but wait. Marina laid back across the bed and stared at the pale water stain on the ceiling that she had contemplated every night since she changed rooms. She wished she could put her hand on Karenas head, stroke her hair. Such is your bravery. Such is my good fortune. When Karen did come back her breathing had changed.
aIam sorry,a Marina said.
aIt comes on so fast,a Karen said, trying to catch her breath. aThey didnat know he was dead because she didnat tell them. Why wouldnat she tell them?a aShe didnat tell them for the exact reason you just saida"they have no means of communication. She only comes to town once every few months. She doesnat even check her mail.a Marina didnat know what she was going to do with the letters but she wasnat going to tell Karen that she had them. That much she could at least be certain of. From thousands of miles away Marina listened to her crying. The boys were asleep in their beds. Pickles was asleep. aShould I call Mr. Fox?a she said. It didnat seem like a good idea but it was the only one she had.
Karen put down the phone again and blew her nose. She was trying to get a hold of herself, Marina could hear it. She made the sounds of a person who was trying to wrestle an enormous sorrow to the ground. aNo,a she said. aDonat call him. This happens to me now. Itas part of it.a aI want to tell you something different,a Marina said.
aI know you do.a aItas terrible here, Karen. I hate it.a aI know,a she said.
That night, which was her first night of fever, she dreamed that she and her father were paddling a small boat down a river in the jungle and that the boat turned over. Her father drowned and she was left alone in the water. The boat had gotten away. Marina had forgotten that her father didnat know how to swim.
aNow I have something youare going to like,a Barbara said on the phone.
Marina hadnat heard from the Bovenders since her visit to their apartment several days before and since that time she had not left the hotel and had very seldom left her bed. She wasnat entirely sure if the preventative medicine that worked against insect borne diseases was making her sick or if she had in fact contracted an insect borne disease in spite of the medication. It also seemed entirely possible that all of her symptoms, which included body aches and a peculiar rash around her trunk, were psychosomatica"she was willing herself into illness in order to bring this all to an end. But then she wondered if Anders hadnat reached the same conclusion. I have a fever that comes on at seven in the morning and stays for two hours. By four in the afternoon itas back and I am nothing but a ranting pile of ash. Most days now I have a headache and I worry that some tiny Amazonian animal is eating a hole through my cerebral cortex. Marina had only read that letter once and still she knew it by heart. aWhat will I like?a she asked Barbara Bovender, because in truth she could not think of one single thing in Manaus that sounded appealing.
aWeare going to the opera! Annick keeps a box and the season opens tomorrow. We have her tickets!a aShe keeps a box at the opera?a Marina didnat have the energy for indignation but really, was there no end to this?
aApparently there was a season several years ago when the rains got so bad she had to come into the city for a long time. She said the opera saved her.a aWell, I donat think itas going to save me. Iam sick. I need to stay where I am.a aDid you eat something?a Barbara asked. It was the logical question. The market stalls were filled with things that would kill anyone who didnat have several generations of the proper bacteria in their gut.
aItas just a fever,a Marina said.
aHigh or low?a aI donat have a thermometer.a She was bored. She wanted to get off the phone.
aAlright,a Barbara said. aIall be over in about an hour. And Iam bringing some dresses for you to look at.a aI donat want company and I donat want dresses. I appreciate the gesture but trust me, Iam a doctor. I know what Iam doing.a aYou have no idea,a Barbara said lightly.
Tomo, the concierge, in an act of dogged perseverance and faith that far outreached anything Marina herself was capable of, had continued to call the airport every day regarding her luggage. It had been located momentarily in Spain and then lost again. He was also the hotel employee who was sent up to her room whenever someone called about the screaming, and now he was looking after her because she was sick. He brought her bottles of syrupy cane juice and carbonated soft drinks and hard, dry crackers that stood in for meals. The truth was that Marina, stranded and in decline, elicited the sympathy of the entire hotel staff, but they all recognized that Tomo was in charge of her.
So when there was knocking on her door, how much later she couldnat say (sleep was like an anesthetic she broke out of and then slipped into again), Marina assumed it was Tomo. She put on the extra bed sheet that was her robe and answered the door.
Barbara gave her a hard stare up and down before speaking. aOh, you are rough,a she said with her long, flat vowels. aWhy didnat you call me?a Marina, disappointed that now she wouldnat be able to go right back to sleep, retreated into her room, which was dark and stale. The Australian followed her.
aIave brought you things.a Barbara held up a small, dirty paper sack and a tapestry overnight bag as if they were enticing offers. The housekeepers hadnat been in for a couple of days because Marina could not stop sleeping. Bits of crackers were scattered over the floor like sand. Mrs. Bovender turned on the light switch by the door and then opened the blinds. aYou shouldnat be living like this,a was all she had to say.
aMy standards have changed.a Marina burrowed down into the bed. One would think it would be difficult to fall asleep in front of someone you barely knew but in fact it was the simplest thing in the world.
Barbara took a paper cup out of the bag and pried off the lid. aHere,a she said, and held it out to her. aSit up. Youare supposed to drink it while itas hot.a Marina leaned forward and sniffed the contents of the cup. It was the river, boiled down to its foulest essence. It was even the color of the river. The steam that rolled off the surface was like the heavy morning mist. aWhere did you get that?a aFrom the shaman stand in the market, and donat say anything dismissive about the shaman until youave given him a try. Iave been bitten by half the insects in this country. Iave had some awful fevers, some sores I wouldnat even talk about. Jackie had food poisoning once. He ate some sort of grilled turtle from a vendor, which was idiotic in the first place. I was positive he was going to die. The shamanas saved us every time. I could practically open an account with him.a The shaman would no doubt have direct billing with Vogel. aBut I havenat been to see the shaman,a Marina said, applying logic where no logic could be applied. aWhat is he basing his diagnosis on? You havenat seen me either.a aI explained the situation. Actually, Milton explained the situation for me after I explained it to Milton. The shaman and I donat exactly speak the same Portuguese, and I think itas important to get it all right. Milton hopes youare feeling better, by the way.a She pressed the cup against Marinaas breastbone and held it there until she took it in her hands.
aThis is idiocy,a Marina said, looking down at the cloudy liquid. The cup was warm. The smell came up to her in layers: water, fish, mud, death.
aDrink it!a Barbara said sharply. aIam tired of trying to help you. Drink it all down, one swallow, come on. This is what we do down here in hell.a Marina, so surprised by the force of the order and by the look of mad frustration on Barbara Bovenderas face, did what she was told and took down the whole foul cup in one long swallow. It was not entirely liquid, it was thicker near the bottom, viscous, and there were tiny bits of something hard and twiglike that caught in her throat. The canoe they were in was a log and it rolled over to the side and she was thrown down with her father into the water. The water filled up her eyes and nose and mouth. She sank before she could swim and all she could taste was the river. She had forgotten until now how the river tasted.
aPut your head back and pant,a Barbara said. aDonat throw it up.a She got down on her knees in front of Marina, putting her hands on Marinaas knees. Mr. Fox had said the difference between Marina and Anders was that Anders hadnat had the sense to come home when he had first fallen sick, but oh, it wasnat a matter of whether she was willing. It was all a matter of able. A chill passed through her, a great shuddering wave that washed over her wet skin and made her spine convulse.
aOkay,a Barbara said quietly, patting at her knee as if it were the head of a very small dog, ahereas the other thing. Youare going to be really sick now, but just for a little while, an hour or so, maybe two. It all depends on what needs to break down inside you. Then youare going to be absolutely fine. Youare going to be better than fine. Iad be happy to stay with you. Iam free all afternoon.a Marina looked at her guest but all she could really make out was the light of her hair which appeared to be receding down a tunnel. She said she did not want her to stay.
Barbara sat back on her heels looking disappointed. She took Marinaas cold fingers in her hand and bounced them. aOkay, Iall come back then at five and we can talk about what dress youare going to wear tomorrow. I brought a few that I think will be pretty on you. Itas good that you have a friend whoas as tall as you are.a She waited. aAre you going to be sick now? Try to wait as long as you can. The longer you can hold it down the better it works. Panting really helps.a Lines of sweat began to run down Marinaas forehead, down from the crown of her head, down the back of her neck. A clear, thin mucus came from her nose at a rate that exceeded both the perspiration and the tears that were pouring from her eyes. She did not lift her hand to her face. She let the slick wall pour unabated. It was early still but she realized very clearly there was nothing she could do to stop this from happening. The trembling shook her hard enough to knock her teeth and she tried to keep her mouth open. Even if there were an antidote she would never get to it in time. This was the end of the end. She knew what it felt like now. If she lived to see it come again she would call it by name. In one of her last clear thoughts, Marina wondered if she had been murdered, or if by taking the cup herself, she had committed suicide.
Far outside the city the tree frogs were calling her, and the deep, rhythmic pulse of their voices set the blood flow to her heart.
Marina woke up on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, her head resting on a pile of towels. She opened her eyes and watched a bright red spider of medium size slip beneath the sink cabinet. The details of the time that had elapsed, she didnat know how much time it was, were not clear, and for that she was grateful. She breathed in and breathed out, moved her fingers and toes, stretched open her mouth and closed it again. The shaman-induced illness had left her and in the violence of its departure had scraped out whatever illness she had had in the first place. She was alive, possibly well. Her hip was sore from the angle she had been lying at but that hardly seemed important. Carefully, slowly, she pulled herself upright and then moved the short distance over the ledge of the bathtub where she sat in the bottom just to be safe and let the hot shower beat against her head until the water slipped to lukewarm. After that she brushed her teeth and drank a bottle of water. She was sore and raw but she experienced that distinct mental clarity that marked a feveras end. She rolled her head from side to side. She walked naked into the bedroom, a towel around her head, to find the room was clean and Barbara Bovender was sitting in a chair by the window reading the New England Journal of Medicine.
aLook whoas up!a Barbara said.
aYou were leaving,a Marina said, but very little sound came out. She coughed, trying to reset her vocal cords which had been stripped from vomiting. aYou were leaving.a She found the bathrobe sheet folded on the foot of the bed and pulled it around her.
aI was going to, but you got sick so fast. It really went right to work on you. I thought I should stay just to make sure you didnat fall and hit your head on the toilet, anything like that. But youare better, right? I can tell just by looking at you.a aI am,a Marina said. She couldnat bring herself to thank the person who had so recently poisoned her, nor could she deny that the poison had improved her circumstances.
aIave never read this article,a Barbara said, holding up the journal. aItas fascinating, even the science parts which I really donat follow. I kept thinking about how lucky it was that things worked out so that I was sitting in your hotel room for a couple of hours. I have to tell you, I really didnat understand Annickas work at all before this. To think of being able to wait and have your children whenever you want them, forty, fiftya"sixty even, that would be amazing.a Barbara stopped and looked at her hostess. aYou know, Iave never asked you, do you have children?a aI do not,a Marina said. The air conditioning had been turned up to high and she was starting to shiver in the cold. aIad like to get dressed now.a For the first time in days she was hungry.
aOh sure, of course.a Barbara got up from her chair. aDo you mind if I borrow this? I know Jackie would want to read it.a aFine,a Marina said.
aTry the dresses on and let me know which one you like.a Barbara stopped at the door. aI really am so glad it all worked out and that youare better. Iall tell the shaman, heall be so pleased. Weall pick you up tomorrow at seven, alright?a But she didnat mean it as a question. Before Marina had a chance to answer, Barbara Bovender and the New England Journal of Medicine were gone.
Five.
The point of an evening at Teatro Amazonas was not so much to see an opera as it was to see an opera house. They had tickets for Gluckas Orfeo ed Euridice, but only because there had to be tickets for something. The building itself was the performance, the two long marble staircases curving up in front, the high blue walls piped with crisp white embellishments, the great tiled dome that must have been torn from a Russian palace by a monstrous storm and blown all the way to South America, or so a tourist had told Marina one morning when she stopped to take a picture of it with her phone. There was no real explanation for how such a building was conceived for such a place. Marina thought of it as the line of civilization that held the jungle back. Surely without the opera house the vines would have crept up over the city and swallowed it whole.
aThe natives swear that nobody built it,a Barbara said, taking the tickets out from her tiny black lacquered evening bag. aThey say it just happened.a Jackie nodded. It was the version of which he most approved. aThey say it was brought down in a space ship for some prince because this was the only place he could have sex.a Barbara Bovender was wearing a short ivory-colored dress that showed the full length of her leg, a shameless expanse of tanned calf and thigh that was exaggerated by a very high pair of evening sandals. It was a dress she had first offered to Marina and Marina had declined. Every dress Barbara had brought over in her tapestry bag was missing some essential piece of fabric: the front or the back or the skirt, leaving Marina to decide which part of herself she could best afford to leave uncovered. The ivory dress had a modest neckline and long sleeves but was short enough to embarrass a third-grader. In the end she settled on a long straight dress of dark gray silk that left bare her arms and back because Barbara consented to lend her a wrap, even though she said it ruined the lines. Once Marinaas fever had broken and the vomiting had stopped, she was in fact grateful, not only for her shaman cure (though she wished she had taken a vaccine for hepatitis A before leaving on her trip) but for the loan of an inappropriate dress and the chance to go to the opera. She appreciated having a reason to scrub beneath her fingernails, to leave her room in the evening, to listen to music. Whatas more, Mrs. Bovender came back to her hotel before the performance to pin up Marinaas hair and apply her eyeliner as if she were a bride. Marina had had many friends in her life who could recite the periodic table from memory but not since high school had she had a friend with a particular talent for hair. When Barbara was through with her considerable work she led Marina to the mirror so that she could be overwhelmed by the results, and Marina, who didnat remember looking as beautiful on her wedding day, obliged. aYou have to make a point of looking nice every now and then,a Barbara said, clamping a significant gold cuff around Marinaas wrist. aBelieve me, if you donat do it down here then everything is lost.a When the three of them moved through the lobby, the crowds of opera goers turned to watch them pass. Jackie, slightly stoned, with his lightly tinted glasses and glossy hair, looked like a man who was likely to arrive with two women. He wore a white linen shirt with white embroidery down the front, a surferas version of formal wear. Marina was only sorry to think that this beauty she was doubtlessly incapable of replicating was being spent on the Bovenders. After all, Mr. Fox enjoyed the opera. It wasnat so unreasonable to think he could have visited her here. She imagined the weight of her hand resting inside his arm.
The usher unlocked the door to their box with a heavy brass skeleton key that he wore around his neck on a velvet cord. He made a slight bow to each of them while distributing the programs. The three of them had eight red velvet chairs to choose from. Marina leaned over the brass railing on their balcony to watch the prosperous citizens of Manaus find their way to their seats. The inside of the house was a wedding cake, every intricately decorated layer balanced delicately on the shoulders of the one beneath it, rising up and up to a ceiling where frescoed angels parted the wandering clouds with their hands. When the chandeliers began to dim, Jackie put his hand on his wifeas thigh and she crossed her other leg over to pin him there. Marina turned her attention down to the orchestra. With a face of pure serenity, Barbara leaned towards Marina and whispered, aI love this part.a Marina didnat know what part she meant, and didnat ask, but when the house was dark and the overture rose up to their third-tier balcony she understood completely. Suddenly every insect in Manaus was forgotten. The chicken heads that cluttered the tables in the market place and the starving dogs that waited in the hopes that one might fall were forgotten. The children with fans that waved the flies away from the baskets of fish were forgotten even as she knew she was not supposed to forget the children. She longed to forget them. She managed to forget the smells, the traffic, the sticky pools of blood. The doors sealed them in with the music and sealed the world out and suddenly it was clear that building an opera house was a basic act of human survival. It kept them all from rotting in the unendurable heat. It saved their souls in ways those murdering Christian missionaries could never have envisioned. In these past few days of fever Marina had forgotten herself. The city was breaking her down along with the Lariam, her sense of failure, her nearly mad desire to be home in time to see the lilacs. But then the orchestra struck a note that brought her back to herself. Every pass of the cellistsa bows across the cellosa strings scraped away a bit of her confusion, and the woodwinds returned her to strength. While she sat in the dark, Marina started to think that this opera house, and indeed this opera, were meant to save her. She knew the story of Orpheus, but it wasnat until the singing began that she realized it was the story of her life. She was Orfeo, and there was no question that Anders was Euridice, dead from a snake bite. Marina had been sent to hell to bring him back. Had Karen been able to leave the boys, she would have been Orfeo. It was the role she had been born to play. But Karen was in Minnesota, and Marinaas mind was filled with Anders now, their seven years of friendship, the fifty hours a week they spent charting lipids, listening to the rise and fall of each otheras breath.
Barbara opened up her tiny purse and handed Marina a Kleenex. aBlot in a straight line beneath your eyes,a she whispered.
A woman sang the role of Orfeo in a baggy toga, her hair slicked back and caught beneath a crown of gilded leaves. She stood there center stage, a lyre in her arms to cover her breasts, and sang her sorrow to the chorus.
Jackie leaned across his wife. aWhy is it a woman?a he whispered to Marina. Marina dabbed her nose and bent in to tell him that the alternative was to find a castrato for whom the part was originally written, but a hand reached between them and thumped Jackie on the shoulder with two hard taps.
aQuiet,a the womanas voice said.
Marina and the two Bovenders straightened their spines as if the same small voltage had run up the carved chair legs and through the velvet seats. They began to turn, the three of them together, but the hand came back between Barbara and Marina and pointed to the stage. That was how they watched the rest of the opera, their eyes forward and their entire consciousness turned behind them to focus on Dr. Swenson.
Dr. Swenson! Back from the jungle and here at the opera with no announcement at all. And now they were made to wait, not to get out of their seats like reasonable people, step into the stairwell or go down to the lobby to begin the conversation that should have been started weeks ago. At first Marina had thought about how she would feel once she saw Dr. Swenson, but the longer she had stayed in Brazil the more she came to consider her chances of finding her to be hopeless. The scenarios she had run in her mind involved going home to tell Karen and Mr. Fox that she had failed. Euridice was behind Orfeo as they trudged the long road up from the underworld, Euridice constantly harping, complaining, her lovely soprano voice turned into a droning sawa"Why wonat you look at me? Why donat you love me? Dear God, even in her enormous beauty she was unbearable. Marina fixed her eyes forward and willed herself with everything in her not to turn around. She noticed that Jackieas hand was no longer sandwiched between his wifeas thighs and that they were both staring at the stage with great concentration, no doubt wondering if they had properly aired the apartment, made the bed, returned all the lacy scraps of underwear to their proper drawers. Marina, who had folded the shawl in her lap once the lights went down because it was less than perfectly cool in this third-tier box, considered the visage of her naked shoulders and back that were presently obstructing Dr. Swensonas view of the stage, the complicated twist of her hair held in place with two black sticks ornamented with tiny gold fans as if she were a Chinese princess. She imagined herself in a hospital room, sitting at a patientas bedside in her dark gray silk, and suddenly Dr. Swenson came into the room behind her. I was paged, Marina said to her, trying to explain the lack of fabric in her dress. Iave been at the opera.
Her own fear surprised her most, the dull thumping deep in her bowels that was associated with the instruction that she might now open her test booklet and begin. Or even later, being called on in Grand Rounds, Dr. Singh, if you would then explain to us why the numbness persists. Marina would have expected anger, confrontation. It wouldnat matter that someone was singing, that everyone around them would hear her. I want you to tell me what happened to Anders! was what she had planned to say. What a thought. She had nothing to say to Dr. Swenson. She was waiting to hear what Dr. Swenson had to say to her. Dr. Singh, of course I remember, you blinded that child in Baltimore. The sweat under her arms came down her rib cage in an unimpeded line, and because of the way the dress was cut, fastened behind her neck and low across her back, it did not pool into a stain until it was nearly at her waist. Orfeo could not take it another minute, the badgering, the chilling doubt. Isnat it proof enough that Iave come to hell for you? he could have said. Couldnat you trust my love and wait another twenty minutes while I navigate this narrow path? But no, it didnat work that way. He had to see her. He had to reassure her of his love. He had to shut her up. He turned to his beloved and in doing so he killed her all over again, sending her down to that pit of endless sleep where the story had first begun.
With everything in her, Marina willed the singers to stop singing, the musicians to put down their instruments in recognition of the unbearable anxiety emanating from the third tier. Such is the stuff of dreams. It wasnat enough that in this opera the dead were alive and then dead again due to the botched efforts of the protagonist, there were still more reversals of fortune and a very long dance segment to endure, but the ending did at last arrive. Marina and the two Bovenders applauded violently, all the repressed energy of waiting finally able to release itself into their slapping hands. aBrava!a Jackie called when the mezzo came forward on the stage.
aIt was hardly as good as all that,a Dr. Swenson said behind them.
As if that sentence were their permission, they stood and turned, the three of them, Dr. Swensonas chorus. aProbably not,a Barbara said, as if this were a conversation. aBut itas just so lovely to go to the opera.a aGreat seats,a Jackie said.
Marina, who was considerably taller in Mrs. Bovenderas shoes, neglected to take Dr. Swensonas height into account and so looked directly over Dr. Swensonas head when she turned. She saw another person in the box, a man in a suit who stayed beneath the eaves. Milton mouthed to her a silent hello.
Barbara put her arm around Marinaas shoulder and pulled her close. The gesture could have been seen as possessive or loving and yet Marina suspected it was really an attempt by the younger woman to remain standing. She could feel Barbara Bovenderas heartbeat as she pushed in hip to hip, rib to rib. A low current of trembling rumbled between them and she could not be sure which of them was the source. aAnnick, you know my friend Dr. Singh,a Barbara said.
aDr. Singh,a Dr. Swenson said, and offered her hand, neither confirming nor denying what she knew. The last thirteen years had not touched Dr. Swenson, except that her skin, which had seen very little sun in those Baltimore winters, was now quite tan, and her hair was more white than gray. It still floated around her broad, open face in the same disorganized cloud Marina remembered. She was blue-eyed, bright, her small hand round and soft in Marinaas own. Her clothing was wrinkled, sensible, making no concessions for a night at the opera. It seemed possible that she had come directly from the dock. This woman who had fixed the course of Marinaas life looked for all the world like somebodyas Swedish grandmother on a chartered tour of the Amazon.
aIam very glada"a Marina began.
aSit, sit,a Dr. Swenson said, and sat herself to set the example. aSheas going to sing the Villa-Lobos.a aThe what?a Barbara said.
Dr. Swenson answered her with a tremendous glare and took the fourth chair in the first row next to Marina while the soprano, the tedious and beautiful Euridice, put a modest hand to her breast and bent her head forward to receive the maelstrom of applause. The Villa-Lobos, Brazilas singular contribution to the classical repertoire, was considerably more beautiful than the Gluck, or the soprano was inclined to sing the vocalise with more tenderness than she had been able to bring to her previous role, and for the briefest moment Marina was able to forget what was behind her (Andersa death) and all that there was still to come (the now inevitable trip into the jungle with her professor) and she listened. It took eight cellos and a human voice to quiet her mind.
aNow that was worth coming in for,a Dr. Swenson said, when finally, after fifteen minutes of thunderous applause, the soprano reluctantly tore herself from the proscenium. As they picked up their programs and opened the door to the box, Dr. Swenson addressed Marina directly. aWhat did you think of the Gluck, Dr. Singh?a Tell us about the patient, Dr. Singh. Marina stopped herself. aIam afraid Iam not a good judge this evening. I was distracted.a Dr. Swenson nodded as if this was the correct answer. aI feel certain itas better that way. The Gluck in oneas memory is always more satisfying than the Gluck itself.a She turned and led the way down the hall to the staircase and the four others followed behind. Milton took Marinaas arm for the stairs and she was grateful for the kindness. She spent very little time in high heels and she could feel a sway in her ankles.
aNo one was expecting her?a Marina said. She made her voice quiet but the crowds were pouring into the hallways now and filling up the space around them, everyone chattering to one another, to their cell phones. The air clicked with the hard, bright syllables of Portuguese spoken by Brazilians well pleased with their evening out.
aThere is no expecting Dr. Swenson,a Milton said, tightening his grip on Marinaas arm as two young girls cut through the crowd at a gallop pace, their party dresses flipping up behind them to show white underskirts as they took the stairs three at a time. aBut there is suspecting. She doesnat like to miss the opening of the season. I didnat take any bookings for tonight though there were plenty of people who wanted to come in a car. That is not because I expected her, but because I suspected.a Marina had lost sight of Dr. Swenson but not the Bovenders, who were a dozen steps ahead. Mrs. Bovender especially was a virtual lighthouse. aI would have appreciated you passing your suspicions along.a aI might have made you worry for nothing then. She doesnat always come. She doesnat always do anything.a aI understand that, but had I known there was any possibility of her being here tonight I would have worn my own clothes.a Milton stopped on the stairs, forcing the people behind him to stop. aThere is something wrong with your dress? How could there be something wrong with this dress?a Up ahead Marina saw the Bovenders ride the river of humanity out the front doors of the opera house, their bright heads bent down. She could assume they were talking to Dr. Swenson or at least that they were listening to her. She ignored Miltonas question and tugged him forward.
The night air was heavy and warm but there was a slight fish-smelling breeze coming from the river. Marina and Milton found the other three on the great tiled landing in front of the opera house, their faces turned in the direction of that breeze. Countless thousands of insects poured towards the electric lights that bathed the sides of the magnificent building and flooded over into the terraces and the streets below them. Even in the noise of the crowd Marina could hear the thrumming of wings, the various pitches of buzzing sounds they made. Their enthrallment of the light reminded her of the audience at the end of the final aria. They were driven mad by it. They could never have enough.
aThe Bovenders tell me that nothing has changed since Iave been gone,a Dr. Swenson said as Milton and Marina approached them. aIs that true? An entire city and nothing changes?a aI canat think of any changes in the last ten years,a Milton said.
aThere must be something,a Dr. Swenson said. Her face was tilted up and the spotlight above her head seemed to shine on her alone. It was as if she had been cut out of light and pasted onto a dark background, powerfully removed from the crowds around her the way she was in memory. Even though this was exactly the person Marina had been looking for, she could not overcome the feeling that two very distant points in her life were now colliding in a way that should be relegated only to bad dreams. The last time she had actually seen Dr. Swenson was the day before the accident. Throughout the inquisition they had no contact and after the inquisition she left the program. She hadnat thought of that before.
aWell, Marinaas here now,a Jackie offered.
aI would prefer something I didnat already know.a Milton thought for a moment. aRodrigo is stocking flea collars in his store. He says you can put them under your pillow, it keeps things out of the bed.a Dr. Swenson nodded her head approvingly, as if this were exactly the piece of information she had hoped to uncover. aIall get some in the morning.a That was when a slightly built boy, a Brazilian Indian, wandered towards them, slipping easily between adults without touching their clothes. He was noticeable even in the crowd because he represented two groups that were largely absent from the evening: children and Indians. He wore a pair of nylon shorts and a green T-shirt that said aWorld Cup Soccer.a He looked like the boys who sat on blankets in the square selling bracelets and small animals carved out of nuts. He had the same dark silky hair and eyes that appeared overly large, when in fact it was his face that was too small. Logic would dictate that this child would be selling something as well, children were industrious in Manaus: hawking fans and postcards and butterflies in wooden boxes, but his hands were empty.
aEaster!a Barbara Bovender cried, and dropped down to sit on the back of her heels, a perilous maneuver in so short a dress. She held out her arms to the boy who ran into them, burying his face in her neck.
aItas the hair,a Dr. Swenson said. aHe never can get over it.a Jackie leaned over to pick the child up and his wife came up as well. The boy had filled both of his hands with her hair and was studying it intently, a luminous rope thrown down from the gods. He was too old to be picked up and clearly it delighted him. aI think youare bigger,a Jackie said, jostling him up and down as if trying to guess his weight.
aHe isnat bigger,a Dr. Swenson said. She tapped the boy on the chest and when he looked at her she spoke. aDr. Singh.a She raised her right index finger and touched that hand to her left wrist, then drew a line up her throat with one finger and pulled that same finger into the air from her mouth. Then she pointed at Marina. He let go of Barbaraas hair and gave Marina his hand.
aLook at that!a Jackie said, as if this were a particularly clever trick for a boy. aHe can shake.a As a reward he tossed the child up in the air a few inches, up and down and up and down, until he laughed a strange, seal-like laugh and had to let go of her hand.
aItas nice to meet you,a Marina said. The childas enormous eyes fixed themselves to her and did not look away. aYou could have brought him to the opera,a she said to Dr. Swenson. Had he come with her? aThere were plenty of seats.a aEasteras deaf,a Dr. Swenson said. aThe opera would have been more tedious for him than it was for us.a aIt wasnat such a bad opera,a Barbara said to the boy.
aHe likes to wander when he has the chance,a Dr. Swenson said for him. aHe likes to take a look around town.a Easter, perched in Jackieas arms, his attention rightfully returned to Barbaraas hair, did not turn his head. Even with good hearing he would have seemed too small to be walking the streets of Manaus alone in the dark.
aI would have gone with you if Iad known you were out here,a Jackie said to the boy. aWe could have cut out together.a aHe could have come. I think he would have liked seeing all the people,a Barbara said. aThereas a lot to look at in the opera house even if you canat hear the music.a Dr. Swenson looked at her watch. aI think this is enough of a reunion for now. Dr. Singh and I should have a talk. I assume you donat mind the late hour, Dr. Singh. Milton tells me youave been waiting.a Marina said that she would be glad to talk.