Free The Laments by George Hagen

Trixie, nodding mischievously at Julia.
    “I don’t want my fortune told,” Julia protested, but Trixie insisted, and persuaded her to rest her hand in Mr. Mubarez’s. The minute their fingers touched, Julia felt her heart quicken. Mubarez also seemed at a loss for words. With an apology, he released her hand.
    Trixie looked fascinated and slightly envious of their exchange. “Well?” she said impatiently. “What’s
her
future?”
    The man looked abashed. “My imagination appears to have failed me,” he replied.
    “It’s quite all right, Mr. Mubarez,” said Julia.
    Trixie seized this moment to pepper Mr. Mubarez with questions about his life, steering his eyes back to her when they strayed to Julia. Mubarez spoke of his youth, when he sold the fish he caught to the British submarine crews in the Gulf; of how his father sent him to a school for bankers’ children in Jidda; and of how his trade had expanded from tin pots and pans to the stainless-steel equipment sold to restaurants and hotels.
    When it was time to go, the women refused his offer of an escort. Julia’s last glimpse of Mr. Mubarez was of his elegant suit, a solitary figure nursing a glass of mint tea.
    Trixie and Julia walked back through the medina, sharing the giddy satisfaction of an adventure concluded. “What a dreamboat,” said Trixie. Then she gave Julia a vexed glance. “I’ve never had to work so hard to get a man to look at me.”
    Julia smiled at the compliment, and then shame swept over her face. “Oh God, was I flirting?”
    “Not exactly,” said Trixie. “
I
was doing the flirting, not that it did me any good.”
    Julia whispered a confession. “He made me tremble.”
    Trixie laughed. “You made him tremble too, honey!” Then she noticed Julia’s blush. “Oh, for godsakes, don’t tell me you’re one of those married women who won’t even let herself
think
of another man!”
    Julia reproached her friend. “Trixie, I adore Howard. No other man has ever interested me in the least.”
    Trixie laughed. “Sure! But there’s nothing wrong with feeling your heart skip a beat, is there? Just for fun.” She linked her arm with Julia’s. “Honey, both of us know that Howard has nothing to worry about.”
    “ HOW WAS YOUR DAY? ” asked Howard that evening.
    “Fine,” Julia replied tersely. She was trying to coax Will to eat a few more bites of chicken, but he scampered across the tiled floor, leaving her crimson-faced in front of her husband.
    “Anything wrong?” he asked.
    “No, we just wandered through the medina.”
    Howard gave his wife a sober glance. “You know, I hear Trixie’s a bit of a flirt. She has something of a reputation in the company. Poor Chip.” Howard shrugged. “Not that he’s any saint, but his wife’s obviously a handful.”
    “I don’t like Chip,” Julia said.
    “Well, so much for the Howitzers,” sighed Howard, as if they were in accord, and the Americans had been put to rest.
    SHE AND HOWARD HAD NEVER DISAGREED about friends before; it was uncertain territory in their marriage. Since Trixie did not call Julia, that might well have been the end of the Howitzers, if Mrs. McCross hadn’t phoned Julia one evening.
    “Julia, how are you? How’s little Willy? Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”
    “Sorry,” said Julia, tossing several excuses into the explanation, but Mrs. McCross wouldn’t be put off.
    “I’ve been meaning to have a word with you, actually, about your
friend
. I think I speak for a number of concerned souls in saying that your American friend is not of our flock. . . .”
    “Our flock?” repeated Julia.
    After Mrs. McCross hung up, Julia realized that she wasn’t of the flock, either. Furthermore, her time with Trixie had been the most exciting thing to happen to her in Bahrain.
    IN DEFIANCE OF HOWARD’S JUDGMENT on the Howitzers, Julia invited Trixie to go to the beach with the boys. She revealed her plans on the day of the outing.
    Howard looked dismayed.