“I promised you?”

“Yes, you promised me,” he said. “You know…”

He meant the bath.

“I’ll do that later,” she said. “For now…”

“You promised me.” Sulky tone. “My bath.”

“Gerard, I am going to show you this next problem. And ask you: What is twenty-nine take away eight?”

“I hope they are watching,” he said, in an odd voice. “They’ll see. They’ll see and they’ll know and they’ll say, ‘Why, she wouldn’t even harm a fly.’”

“Gerard. Now, please pay attention. What is twenty-nine take away eight?”

Gerard opened his mouth. The front doorbell rang. Gail was close enough to the bird to know that Gerard himself had made the sound. He could imitate all sorts of sounds perfectly-doorbells, phone rings, toilet flushes.

“Gerard, please…”

The sound of footsteps. A click, and a creak as the front door opened.

“You look good, baby, I’ve missed you,” Gerard said, imitating her husband’s voice.

“Gerard,” she began.

A woman’s voice: “Oh Richard, it’s been so long…”

Silence. Sound of kissing.

Gail froze, watching Gerard. The parrot continued, his beak hardly moving. He was like a tape recorder.

The woman’s voice: “Are we alone?”

“Yes,” her husband said. “Kid doesn’t come back until three.”

“And what about, uh…”

“Gail is at a conference in Geneva.”

“Oh, so we have all day. Oh, God…”

More kissing.

Two pairs of footsteps. Crossing the room.

Her husband: “You want something to drink?”

“Maybe later, baby. Right now, all I want is you. ”

Gail turned, and switched the video off.

Gerard said, “Now will you give me my bath?”

She glared at him.

The bedroom door slammed shut.

Creaking of the bedsprings. A woman squealing, laughing. More creaking springs.

“Stop it, Gerard,” Gail said.

“I knew you would want to know,” he said.

“I hate that fucking bird,” her husband said, later that night. They were in the bedroom.

“That’s not the point,” she said. “You’ll do what you want, Richard. But not in my house. Not in our bed.” She had already changed the sheets, but even so, she didn’t want to sit on the bed. Or go near it. She was standing on the other side of the room, by the window. Paris traffic outside.

“It was just that one time,” he said.

She hated it when he lied to her. “When I was in Geneva,” she said. “Do you want me to ask Gerard if there were other times?”

“No. Leave the bird out of it.”

“There were other times,” she said.

“What do you want me to say, Gail. I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” she said. “I want you not to do it again. I want you to keep your fucking women out of this house.”

“Right. Fine. I will do that. Can we drop it now?”

“Yes,” she said. “We can drop it now.”

“I hate that fucking bird.”

She walked out of the room. “If you touch him,” she said, “I’ll kill you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

She met Yoshi Tomizu at his apartment. They had begun their affair a year before and had resumed it again in Geneva. Yoshi had a wife and child in Tokyo, and he would be returning there in the fall. So it was just a friendship with privileges.

“You feel tense,” he said, stroking her back. He had wonderful hands. “Did you argue with Richard?”

“Not really. A bit.” She looked at the moonlight coming in through the window, surprisingly bright.

“Then what is it?” Yoshi asked.

“I’m worried about Gerard.”

“Why?”

“Richard hates him. Really hates him.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t do anything. It’s such a valuable animal.”

“He might,” she said. She sat up in bed. “Maybe I should go back.”

Yoshi shrugged. “If you think…”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He kissed her lightly. “Do what you think is best.”

Gail sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m being silly.” She slid back down under the covers. “Tell me I am being silly. Please.”