“Don’t count on anything here being open between one and four,” said Tom. “That’s when all the shopkeepers go home for their siesta.”
We said our goodbyes and Tom turned to go, but then he stopped in the middle of the lobby and did a one-eighty. “I almost forgot,” he said when he was in front of us again. “There’ve been a couple of protests recently.” We must have stood up a little straighter, because Tom rushed to reassure us. “Not a big deal,” he said. “Mainly people from off the island.”
“What are they protesting?” I asked.
“Us. TheGilmore. A bunch of lefties are all riled up about the nuclear reactors on the subs. They think we’re going to leak nuclear waste all over the archipelago, if we haven’t already.”
Paul let out a short laugh, like the very idea of a leak was not just remote but impossible.
“Things had been pretty quiet here recently,” said Tom, “but then all that stuff went down in Japan, and it’s got a lot of Italians feeling like chumps for not doing more.”
“Japan?” I said, but Paul gave me a look that saidlater.
“We’re telling our people to keep their heads down.”
“Should we not go out?” I asked, but the question didn’t make sense even as I said it. After all, we’d just been at a restaurant in Palau, and Tom hadn’t acted like we were breaking any rules.
Tom rushed to reassure me. “You can go out. Definitely. Just don’t draw a lot of attention to yourself. Try to blend in. You know what I mean?”
I did, but then I thought of the woman on the ferry and how I had immediately known she was an American without her ever opening her mouth. I was five-eight with auburn hair, hazel eyes, and my Irish father’s pale skin, which burned and then freckled in the sun. There was no way I’d ever be mistaken for an Italian, even if I traded in my Keds for a pair of Bruno Magli pumps.
What I didn’t yet understand—what Icouldn’tyet understand—was that much of what gave me away as American had nothing to do with my physical features or my clothing. It was my loping gait, my exaggerated wave, even my laugh, which was a little too loud. Small traits, all of them, but together they added up to something big and brash and also a little bit unwieldy.
18.
I HAD VERY FEW POINTSof comparison at the time, but now I’d describe our hotel room, which was on the third floor of the Excelsior, as only adequate. On one wall was a full-size bed that sagged in the middle. The bed was flanked by a pair of nightstands, and on the other wall stood a small wardrobe. I looked around for a dresser, but there wasn’t one to speak of—just a couple of drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe. “I guess we really will be living out of our suitcases,” I said.
The room had an adjoining bathroom, which was a relief, but there was no shower this time, just a bathtub with one of those stretchy nozzles you could hold over your head.
“Do people really use these?” Paul asked as he twisted one of the valves of the bidet.
“Don’t!” I squeaked, but it was too late. A stream of water shot out of the faucet and onto his jeans.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath as he shook himself off.
While Paul rooted through his suitcase for a change of clothes, I kicked off my shoes and stretched out across the bed. Then I asked him what Tom had been talking about in the lobby.
“You mean the stuff about our TLA?”
“No,” I said. “Japan.”
Paul tossed a pair of slacks onto the bed and began to strip. “It’s not that interesting.”
“I’ll be the judge.”
He gave me that look, likeIt’s your funeral, then said, “Japan kicked our nuclear fleet out of their ports.”
“What do you mean, kicked out?”
“They said we’re not allowed within twelve miles of a population center.” He shook out the pair of pants and stepped into them. “And a port is, by definition, a population center.”
I rolled onto my side. “Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”
“Never,” said Paul. “But there was an audit, and it came out that one of Japan’s big research institutes had been forging a bunch of radiometric data.”
“To make our numbers look bad?”
“No, to make them look good.”
