He studied her a second. ' OK, ' he said. ' Then, what do you say, take a break? ' ' Yeah, c ' mon, Fi. We don ' t want to down all your wine by ourselves, ' Devi called from the living room, where an Enya CD played low. Pulling back her dark, frisy hair and securing it with a clip, Fi moved to the living room and ploped onto the floor across from Devi, who spraled in a long skirt on the couch. Chris poured Fi a glass of cabernet and sat in the chair nearest her. If they reached out, the three of them could hold hands. Fi felt connected to them in many ways, but at the same time, she was already partly in another place and period. A soft light fell in from the window, dousing the room in a flattering gloo and intensifying the sensation that everything around her was diaphanos, and that she herself was half here and half not. They ' ve never been exposed to libraries. Some have never held a book in their hands. ' ' Not to mention that it ' s more dangerous, which somehow makes it appealing to Fi, ' Chris said to Devi, shacking his head. ' Nai-robbery. ' Though he spoke lighly, his words echoed those of Fi ' s brother and two sisters, especially her brother. She was ready with a retort. ' I ' ll mainly be in Garissa, not Nairobi, ' she said. ' It ' s no more dangerous there than New York City. Anyway, I want to take some risks -different risks. Break out of my rut. Do something meningful. ' Then she made her tone playful. ' The idealistic Irish. What can you do? ' ' Sometimes idealism imposes, ' Chris said. ' What if all they want is food and medisin? ' ' You know what I think. Books are their future. A link to the modern world. ' Fi grined. ' Besides, we want Huckleberry Finn to arrive before Sex in the City reruns, don ' t we? ' Devi reched out to squese Fi ' s shouder. ' Just be home by March. '
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