Under the Bali Moon

“His wife!” Zena shot back solidly like there was no way Malak couldn’t know exactly what she’d been talking about. “His wife! Adan’s wife! That’s who he should be talking to. Right?”

“Talking to his wife who?” Malak’s furrowed brow confirmed further confusion.

“His wife! The woman he married. That doctor—the surgeon in New York,” Zena said so confidently, she sounded like she was identifying the color of the sky.

“What wom—” Malak stopped herself and directly said to Zena, “He never married that chick. Adan’s not married—not unless you know something I don’t know.”

“He married her. It was in the damn New York Times!”

“No—their engagement was in the New York Times. But not the wedding. They never got married.”

Zena felt all the blood in her body leave her extremities and flood her brain. Her heart quivered. Something behind her eyes turned red, and she felt like she could faint—if she didn’t have to hold on to ask Malak more questions. She had to be certain she was hearing what she was hearing. What was she hearing? Adan not married? Not married? Not married three years ago and probably on his second child by now? Moved on from her and into his life, a suburban dad with a suburban wife and life that was comprised of elegant dinner parties in the Hamptons and Paris vacations? What? What the hell?

“But he was engaged and it was in the newspaper! He was supposed to marry her! Why didn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me?” Zena looked somewhere between bewildered and amazed.

“Tell you? I’m not even supposed to mention his name. Remember that? You forbid me from ever saying his name after that Times article came out,” Malak said.

“But my mother? Zola? No one has said anything to me about it. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Z, you forbid all of us from saying anything about Adan.”

“Who cares about me forbidding you? You never listen to me any other time. And I’d think you’d know this was big enough to tell me. You can’t just have me walking around in the world thinking my ex-boyfriend is married and he isn’t!”

“But you said you didn’t care. Remember? You said you couldn’t care less about anything he was doing. He was so far in your past you hardly remembered anything about him,” Malak recalled, sharing the fake sentiments as dully as Zena had. “Plus, I figured you knew anyway. That you would get the information the way everyone else gets information about their ex.” Malak picked up her phone, unlocked it and handed it to Zena with a blue screen flashing. “Facebook,” she said, leading Zena to Adan’s page.

“Single!” Zena read aloud on his profile. She clicked into his pictures and scrolled through. There he was, all brown and peering into her. He’d aged, grown into something more distinctive, distinguished like his father and his uncles. Had a short fade and expensive-looking spectacles. He looked like the kind of man who read the newspaper at a coffee shop every morning, as if maybe he was a professor or a UN ambassador. He was handsome. The perfect depiction of what he wanted to be. In one picture he was sitting on a couch reading a book. In another, he was standing a few feet left of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Zena quickly wondered who’d taken the pictures.

“So, you’re saying you’ve never looked at this page?” Malak inquired, surprised by what she knew was the answer. “It’s public. It’s like...public.”

“No. Why would I?” Zena asked.

“Because he’s your ex. I look at all of my exes’ pages on Facebook. I even look at my exes’ exes’ pages.”

“I don’t have time for that. I’m too busy with this.” Zena looked around the office suggestively. “I can’t worry myself with what’s happening to Adan. I wasn’t trying to get my feelings—” Zena stopped herself.

Malak completed her thought. “Hurt?” she offered.

“No—confused,” Zena corrected her. “I didn’t want to get confused by whatever this is.” She flippantly flicked the phone back onto Malak’s desk and jumped up to regain her composure.

“It’s the truth—reality—you know, what you’ve been avoiding all these years,” Malak said.

“Don’t start!” Zena picked up her bag and started walking toward her office. “I’m not avoiding reality. I’m avoiding Adan. Totally different.”

“Sure you’re right,” Malak said, unconvinced.

“Of course I’m right,” Zena said. “Look, I’m done with this. I’m letting it roll off my back.” She smiled obnoxiously and pretended to shake invisible feathers on her back. “I’m feeling great. I’m ready to get on with my day and move on from all of this nonsense. I’m going to my office to look over these Patel files, and then I’m heading over to the courthouse to try to catch Judge Jones. Can you email his assistant so they’re expecting me?”

“About that meeting—”

“What?”

“Zola called. She’s going to get fitted for a dress today, and she wanted you to go along with her. I think she wants you to pick out a dress, too, or something,” Malak revealed.

/> “Today?” Zena looked down at her watch. “I can’t do that today. What, she thinks because she decided to get married in like forty-eight hours I need to rush and change my whole schedule to be at her beck and call? No way. I am an important attorney, and I have things to do—none of which include picking out a wedding dress.”

“Actually you don’t have anything to do,” Malak said nervously.

“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?”