The Fires Read Free

day.”
    â€œNot a bad day,” she said. “I just feel sort of blah. It’s the nights, Paul.”
    â€œThe nights,” he said.
    â€œThe nights.”
    â€œI’m sorry I’m not there to comfort you,” he said.
    â€œDon’t feel sorry,” she said. “If you were here, you would feel worse. Because you couldn’t comfort me.”
    â€œIt’s that bad?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to tell you. Yes.”
    Pause at his end of the line.
    â€œI haven’t been getting a great deal of sleep myself.”
    â€œLate meetings?”
    â€œThat. And passing through these time zones. I’ve already been out and back once since we last spoke, you know.”

    â€œYou have?”
    â€œYes, a quick trip to Alma Ata and back again.”
    â€œâ€˜Out and back,’” she said. “That would give me a headache. On top of my headache.”
    â€œI don’t have a headache. I’m just a bit tired. I hope to get some sleep on the plane to Tashkent, but you never can tell about those flights.”
    â€œAbout any flights,” she said.
    â€œRight,” he said.
    â€œSo,” she said.
    â€œWhen are you going to see the doctor?”
    â€œI told you, I’m having these tests.”
    â€œWhat exactly are they?”
    â€œUrine samples, saliva samples.”
    A pause at his end of the line.
    â€œI’d like to sample your saliva,” he said.
    â€œOh, you would?”
    â€œI would,” he said. “As soon as I get back I’ll conduct some tests on you myself.”
    Gina felt it then, a touch of heat at the back of her legs and heat running in slender threads up toward her buttocks.
    â€œI’ll be in the waiting room, Doctor,” she said.
    â€œThe nurse will be with you in a minute,” he said.
    She couldn’t stand it.
    â€œI have to go,” she said.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Will you be at home tomorrow night?”
    â€œYes, I think so.”
    â€œI’ll call you from the airport at Tashkent. Before I drive off into the desert.”
    â€œPaul of Arabia,” she said. “My hero. Be careful.”

    â€œI’ll be fine. You’re the one I worry about.”
    â€œDon’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
    Pause.
    â€œDoctor?”
    â€œNurse,” he said right back to her.
    Just at that moment another voice came on the line, speaking in Russian.
    â€œPaul?” Gina said.
    â€œCrossed lines,” he said as the other voice faded away.
    â€œBe careful,” she said.
    â€œNo danger, stiff upper lip, tribes in that region are all pacified.”
    â€œI love you,” she said, that heat running up and down her legs.
    â€œI love you, too,” he said. “Bye.”
    She was jolted awake by turbulence, the airplane descending down a hill of layered air as it made the first approach, according to the captain who spoke over the intercom, to the Frankfurt airport. My first approach, she said to herself, has not been very successful. Slumped in a chair in the waiting area, she slid over the edge of sleep.

2.
    He had arrived late on the flight from Moscow, yes. And he was tired, but not any more than the usual discomfort after an overnight flight from Dulles, compounded by a night of eating heavy and drinking hard with the company people. It was the insertion into his schedule of this trip to Alma Ata that added the extra poundage of fatigue. Outbound, he couldn’t sleep because of the turbulence. He always told himself that it was just like riding a motor boat that was skipping over rough water. Intellectually that made it seem like a simple thing. But there was just no way that he could find to doze off while they were bumping around up there. And then another heavy meal with some government officials in that mountain city before heading back to the airport and waiting for his return flight