The Charm School

now.”
    Hollis was momentarily nostalgic for a wife who didn’t care where he was. “There’s no one else. What’s in the bag?”
    “The best that Gastronom One has to offer.” She walked into the center of the living room and looked around at the eclectic collection of Asian, South American, and European furniture. “Is this your wife’s taste?”
    “We picked up pieces all over the world.”
    “Really? Does she want it back?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Where are you having it moved?”
    “My next duty station, I guess. Do you want this stuff in the kitchen?”
    “Yes.” She followed Hollis into the kitchen and unpacked the canvas bag. Hollis looked at the jars and cans—pickled vegetables, horseradish, salted fish, canned sausage, a piece of smoked herring, a box of loose tea, and a carton of cookies labeled cookies. The Russians were into generics. Hollis had tried those cookies once and thought they smelled like rancid lard and pencil shavings. He said, “Where’s the beef?”
    “Oh, they don’t carry real food at that Gastronom. Only specialty items. I’ll just make a platter of zakuski, and we’ll pick. I’m not very hungry.”
    “I am. I’ll go to the commissary.”
    “There’s enough here. Make me a vodka with lemon while I put it together. Where’s your can opener?”
    “Right there.” Hollis got his Stolichnaya out of the freezer and filled two frozen glasses. “I don’t have lemon. No one has lemon.”
    Lisa reached into her pocket and produced a lemon. “Got this in the lounge. The bartender is in love with me.”
    Hollis cut the lemon and put a wedge in each glass. They drank, opened cans and jars, and looked for bowls, plates, and serving pieces. Hollis found that he didn’t know his kitchen very well.
    “Go sit on the couch,” she said. “I’ll serve you there. Go on.”
    Hollis went into the living room and found a magazine under the couch.
    She came in with a tray of food and placed it on the coffee table, then sat beside him and tried to push the ashtray aside. “This is stuck.”
    They ate zakuski, drank vodka, and talked. Hollis asked her about her work.
    “I’m a fraud. I write what I know they want, in the style they want, the word length they want—”
    “Who is ‘they’?”
    “I don’t know. That’s the scary thing. Do you know?”
    “In the military you
know
.”
    She nodded. “Actually, I’m a good writer. I can do some good stuff. But I like the glamour of the Foreign Service. What should I do?”
    “Stay with the service. Write the good stuff on the side, under a pen name.”
    “Good idea. Do you think they’ll reassign us together?”
    “Is that what you want?”
    “Have I been too subtle, or are you dense?”
    He smiled. “I’ll work it out.”
    “Can you?”
    “I think so.”
    She took out her cigarettes. “Do you mind?”
    “No.”
    “Want one?”
    “Later.”
    She drew the ashtray toward her. “Why does this stick?”
    Hollis poured himself another vodka.
    She lit her cigarette and said, “How have the last six months gone, Sam? You miss her?”
    “No, but my bachelorhood hasn’t been too thrilling either. There aren’t many social opportunities in merry Moscow and fewer here on the compound. I can’t play bridge with the marrieds anymore, and I don’t hang around with you unmarrieds in the lounge. I’m in limbo.”
    “You’ve been horny.”
    “It’s been a
hard
half year.”
    “So the stories I heard about your amorous adventures were not true?”
    “Well, maybe three of them were.” He smiled.
    “Am I the first woman who’s been up here?”
    “You’re into counting, aren’t you?”
    She gave him a look of mock anger and grabbed his tie. “You remember how I kicked Viktor in the balls? Answer me, Hollis.” She pulled his tie.
    “You’re making my tie hard.”
    She suppressed a smile. “Answer me.”
    He laughed. “Yes, yes. I told you. I’ve been alone.” He grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the couch. They kissed.
    She moved away. “Later. I have a videotape in my bag.” She stood, retrieved the tape, and put it in his VCR. “
Doctor Zhivago.
There was a month wait for this, so we have to see it.” She went back to the couch and lay down, putting her bare feet in his lap. “Are you into feet?”
    “I never gave it much thought.”
    “Would you mind rubbing my feet?”
    “No.” He rubbed her feet as they watched the tape and drank vodka.
    “I’ve seen this movie four times,”