residue is a pale vanilla spot on his nose. With it half-uneaten, he hands it
to her. “I’m full. I’ve had enough.”
Is there something worrisome about a child not finishing an ice-cream cone, something
too restrained for his age?
“Do you know how many horns the styracosaurus had? Six horns on its head plus one
on its nose.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Do you know which dino is my very favorite one?”
“Let me think. Mmmm … The polkadotateratops?”
Omar looks at his sneakers, as though sparing her the humiliation of discovering that
her joke is not funny. “The parasaurolophus. It had only one horn on its head and
it was a herbivore.”
He stops—so suddenly Caro nearly drops the remains of the now dripping cone—and leans
over, pointing at a chewed-up piece of gum on the sidewalk. “A bird or a squirrel
could choke on that.”
“Don’t touch. I’ll get it.” She picks up the gum with one of the napkins she’d wrapped
around the cone. At the corner, she tosses the cone and the gum in a trash can.
“Eva is a vegetarian,” Omar continues, slipping his hand into Caro’s now empty one.
“Did you know that some vegetarians don’t eat anything that comes from animals?”
“They’re called vegans. Is Eva a vegan?”
“She doesn’t eat meat or chicken or fish. Rachida told me it’s not because of her
religion. She just doesn’t like it.”
When they arrive back at the house, Eva is in the kitchen washing lettuce and boiling
water for pasta.
“Hi, Miss Caro. Hi, Omar. You like something to drink?” Eva asks, having been carefully
instructed, Caro imagines, by her mother to offer Omar plenty of fluids.
“Yes, please. What are you making?”
“Macaroni and cheese pie.”
Eva tilts her head toward an index card propped against the tile backsplash. She looks
at Caro. “Your mother write the recipe for me. She is teaching me how to cook. Did
she teach you?”
“A few things. Omar says you’re a vegetarian.”
Eva wipes her hands on the hips of her pants. “The smell of cooking animal, it makes
me sick to the stomach. Your mother is so nice. She says it is okay if I prepare everything
else, she will make the meat. She washes and seasons it so I don’t have to touch it.”
“Are you allergic?” Omar asks. “There’s a boy in my camp who’s allergic to nuts. He
has to keep this special pen that’s really a needle in his backpack.”
“I don’t like the smell.” Eva crinkles her nose. With a shudder of her shoulders,
she turns back to the stove.
23
Over dinner, Adam announces that he has begun a new project, a remake of The Searchers .
“I’ve been thinking about it a long time, debating the dramatic circumstances. Then
this week it came to me. Eva inspired me.” He smiles in her direction, a smile she
responds to with what strikes Myra as a look of frozen fear.
“I’ve been reading about the boomtown atmosphere of Iquitos in the 1890s. All of these
people descended on the town to make their fortunes with rubber, with no regard for
the people who’d lived there for centuries. I’ve recast Ethan Edwards as a Jew from
Tangier searching for the missing daughter his brother had with a common-law Indian
wife.”
“ The Searchers ,” Myra says. “I must have seen the original, but I can’t remember it.”
“It’s fabulous! We can watch it after dinner. I have a copy upstairs. It’s John Ford’s
finest film. You could learn how to paint, how to photograph, how to be a novelist
just by studying that film.”
Rachida, who has made an extra effort to be home for dinner since she was on call
the night before, rolls her eyes, but before she can make a caustic remark, Myra says
that would be lovely and Omar is pleading to watch too.
“Please, Rachida, I don’t have camp tomorrow.”
“How many people of color are slaughtered in this thing?” Rachida asks.
“There are ways of seeing the film that
to her. “I’m full. I’ve had enough.”
Is there something worrisome about a child not finishing an ice-cream cone, something
too restrained for his age?
“Do you know how many horns the styracosaurus had? Six horns on its head plus one
on its nose.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Do you know which dino is my very favorite one?”
“Let me think. Mmmm … The polkadotateratops?”
Omar looks at his sneakers, as though sparing her the humiliation of discovering that
her joke is not funny. “The parasaurolophus. It had only one horn on its head and
it was a herbivore.”
He stops—so suddenly Caro nearly drops the remains of the now dripping cone—and leans
over, pointing at a chewed-up piece of gum on the sidewalk. “A bird or a squirrel
could choke on that.”
“Don’t touch. I’ll get it.” She picks up the gum with one of the napkins she’d wrapped
around the cone. At the corner, she tosses the cone and the gum in a trash can.
“Eva is a vegetarian,” Omar continues, slipping his hand into Caro’s now empty one.
“Did you know that some vegetarians don’t eat anything that comes from animals?”
“They’re called vegans. Is Eva a vegan?”
“She doesn’t eat meat or chicken or fish. Rachida told me it’s not because of her
religion. She just doesn’t like it.”
When they arrive back at the house, Eva is in the kitchen washing lettuce and boiling
water for pasta.
“Hi, Miss Caro. Hi, Omar. You like something to drink?” Eva asks, having been carefully
instructed, Caro imagines, by her mother to offer Omar plenty of fluids.
“Yes, please. What are you making?”
“Macaroni and cheese pie.”
Eva tilts her head toward an index card propped against the tile backsplash. She looks
at Caro. “Your mother write the recipe for me. She is teaching me how to cook. Did
she teach you?”
“A few things. Omar says you’re a vegetarian.”
Eva wipes her hands on the hips of her pants. “The smell of cooking animal, it makes
me sick to the stomach. Your mother is so nice. She says it is okay if I prepare everything
else, she will make the meat. She washes and seasons it so I don’t have to touch it.”
“Are you allergic?” Omar asks. “There’s a boy in my camp who’s allergic to nuts. He
has to keep this special pen that’s really a needle in his backpack.”
“I don’t like the smell.” Eva crinkles her nose. With a shudder of her shoulders,
she turns back to the stove.
23
Over dinner, Adam announces that he has begun a new project, a remake of The Searchers .
“I’ve been thinking about it a long time, debating the dramatic circumstances. Then
this week it came to me. Eva inspired me.” He smiles in her direction, a smile she
responds to with what strikes Myra as a look of frozen fear.
“I’ve been reading about the boomtown atmosphere of Iquitos in the 1890s. All of these
people descended on the town to make their fortunes with rubber, with no regard for
the people who’d lived there for centuries. I’ve recast Ethan Edwards as a Jew from
Tangier searching for the missing daughter his brother had with a common-law Indian
wife.”
“ The Searchers ,” Myra says. “I must have seen the original, but I can’t remember it.”
“It’s fabulous! We can watch it after dinner. I have a copy upstairs. It’s John Ford’s
finest film. You could learn how to paint, how to photograph, how to be a novelist
just by studying that film.”
Rachida, who has made an extra effort to be home for dinner since she was on call
the night before, rolls her eyes, but before she can make a caustic remark, Myra says
that would be lovely and Omar is pleading to watch too.
“Please, Rachida, I don’t have camp tomorrow.”
“How many people of color are slaughtered in this thing?” Rachida asks.
“There are ways of seeing the film that
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