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gifted she takes her courses in French—a language she hadn’t known before coming to Port-au-Prince—and is doing quite well. She never raises her voice. Always calm. Usually to be found in her room either studying or listening to music. She so seldom goes to her friends’ surprise parties at Kenscoff or La Boule that her friends have pretty much taken her off their list. Sometimes Christina wonders, with a growing sense of unease, if her daughter isn’t turning into a nun before their very eyes. At first it was a joke that she and Harry shared, but lately it’s begun to be a serious concern. To the point where Christina has started to be on the lookout for her daughter.
    â€œJune, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”
    â€œHansy.”
    â€œHow did you know?”
    â€œI know you, mother. You’ve been talking about him for a week. I knew you’d hook up with him sooner or later.”
    Christina takes a shallow breath.
    â€œDo you mind that I invited him over next Saturday for a little badminton party?”
    â€œI have an exam on Monday.”
    â€œBut my dear, you study all the time. You should get some exercise.”
    â€œBut mother, we do all kinds of sports at school.”
    â€œMy dear, there’s more to life than sports,” Christina says, sounding slightly vexed. “There are boys, too, and they’re good for our equilibrium.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that, Mother?”
    â€œJune!”
    â€œI’m joking. I know exactly what you mean, Mother, and I assure you I have no problems with my equilibrium.”
    Christina seems to reflect on this for a moment.
    â€œMy dear, you know that the mind isn’t everything.”
    â€œWhy are you telling me this?” asks June, suddenly anxious.
    â€œI’m telling you this,” Christina begins, keeping her voice gentle, “because I myself have fallen into this trap.”
    â€œI don’t get you.”
    This time Christina takes a deep breath.
    â€œAll right . . . Well, I mean I wasted a lot of chances I might have had with men I found interesting because, to put it simply, I sublimated my intellect as an adolescent.”
    â€œYou know, I don’t always follow you, mother.”
    â€œGood God! . . . Listen, sweetie, there are times when the body must speak out . . . No other part of you . . . just the body . . . Nothing you can do about it. It’s the way we’re made.
    It’s physical, June. It’s natural. We’re animals, you know, just like other animals. Monkeys do it. Dogs do it. Birds do it. For all I know even plants do it. June . . . June, look at me . . . June, your mother does it. Even nice girls do it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    â€œLook, Mother, I’m not stupid. I know all about that.”
    â€œJune, there’s a huge difference between knowing something and accepting it. Or rather experiencing it. I’d hate to see you going down the same path I took. I have suffered too much, and I want to save you from the same suffering before it’s too late . . . I don’t want you to become nothing but an intellectual. I want you to have a good mind, of course I do, but I also want you to have . . . a body. Do you see what I mean?”
    â€œYes, Mother.”
    THEY TALKED FOR a while longer, and then June went up to her room to work on an assignment. Christina took a long, cold shower (menopause). Then she called her best friend, Françoise (she’d met Françoise Saint-Pierre shortly after her arrival in Port-au-Prince). For a brief time, Françoise had been Harry’s mistress (Christina knows that), but he dropped her when he started becoming interested in Haitian women.
    â€œFrançoise, I told her everything . . . Absolutely everything, including the bit about animals. I felt like a complete nincompoop! She listened calmly enough, as she always does, but I know her, I know she