Part 4 (1/2)
”Not yet.”
”So sorry to hear that.” Seng looked down at his feet. ”Are you sure you sent it?” he looked up hopefully.
”Yep, sure.”
”You typed it out exactly like I said it?”
”You were there, dummy. Didn't you see me type it out like you said it? Maybe she doesn't check e-mail that often.”
”Yeah, that must be it. Let's write another one.”
”Okay, but stop scratching your neck.”
”I'm not.”
”Yes, you are.”
”No, I'm not.”
Dear Vong, One month ago I am writing you e-mail. I ask you help me to America. You not write back I am waiting you. Maybe now you got baby and you are busy. Or maybe easy job in office and cheese hamburgers make you lazy. Please I am waiting your message.
Nok is still okay but she is not laughing my jokes like before.
Loving brother, Seng.
When Nok asked Seng why he wanted to see Vong's New Year card again, Seng just said that he liked the picture on the front. He didn't want to tell her it was so he could make sure they had Vong's e-mail address right. The card showed people skating, which he knew about because he'd seen it on TV. RIDEAU Ca.n.a.l, OTTAWA was written underneath it. He didn't know where that was, but he was sure he had seen it in an American movie once.
America. Just the name made him feel excited. The land of the free, the home of movie actors with flawless faces; McDonald's, KFC, and all the other fast-food restaurants the communist party didn't allow in Laos; blue jeans; baseball hats and dollars. He wondered how it would be for Nok if he were to leave. Would she miss him? He didn't want to ask her. He was afraid of her blunt response. Besides, he didn't want to say anything until he knew for sure that he was going. He'd send for her as soon as he got there. Vong could pay for her to go to an American university.
Dear Vong, Another month has gone. You are getting my e-mail? Please let me know you receive or not.
Nok is fine smiling more now. I think I know why. Nana told me falang boy coming to her often.
Loving brother, Seng.
Mother Water.
Cam.
I ripped open the doors of the ma.s.sage house. ”I can't believe it! Nok? Come check this out.”
Some of the other ma.s.seuses giggled and were probably glad they didn't have to ma.s.sage me. By now everyone knew who I was coming to see.
”Sabaidee, Cam,” Nok said, looking up - perhaps brightly - from the Virginia Woolf book she was reading between customers. Her s.h.i.+ny, black hair flowed long and loose down the back of a pink T-s.h.i.+rt that clung s.e.xily to her lean waist. I wanted to kiss her.
”Get this! I was walking along the street when a dog ran up to me, c.o.c.ked his leg, and p.i.s.sed all over my foot. p.i.s.sed all over my foot! The b.a.s.t.a.r.d picked me out of a crowd and peed on me!”
I was surprised I was cracking up. I was missing a game today because of the fight. Mr. Rose wouldn't even let me practise. Apparently the Thai guard was in hospital with injuries from our brawl.
”It's serious, Cam,” Mr. Rose had said.
”He started it.”
”You think that matters?”
Seeing Nok seemed to soften it all. I thought maybe she looked glad to see me too. My foot reeked, but for some reason it was hilarious. Obviously I still had a long way to go to quell my temper, but perhaps the laid-back Lao way was rubbing off on me after all. Maybe I was finally beginning to understand this place a bit. Like the importance of peace in the everyday moments. Little things - like someone cutting you off in traffic, or shoving you on the basketball court, or even a dog p.i.s.sing on your foot - didn't bother people here. They lived by the saying boh penyang - ”no worries.” They saved their energy for telling jokes and helping out friends or family. It seemed kind of simple, yet profound at the same time. Weird how a poor country like Laos can be so rich.
I stopped feeling so peaceful when I saw Nok's face fall. Had she heard about the game?
”That is very bad luck,” she said solemnly.
”No kidding! It's kind of funny, though.”
”No, Cam. It's a really bad omen.” She looked down at the ground.
”What do you mean?” I chuckled nervously.
”It means something bad is going to happen. You must go to the temple. Make some merit and the monk will bless you. After that, the bad luck will be gone.”
”Make merit?” I asked.
”So you can be reborn in heaven.”
”Kind of like a points system?”
”Maybe. It's for your karma,” she said.
”You mean, so I won't come back as a donkey?”
She burst into laughter.
”Karma isn't about punishment; it's about learning all you can in this life so you don't repeat the same mistakes in your next.”
”Right, but in my next life I already know not to wear flip-flops that dogs like to p.i.s.s on.”
”Cam!” she tried to look exasperated, but I saw her little amused smile.
I didn't want to belittle Buddhism or her culture, but there was no way I was going to a temple to tell a monk that some dog took a p.i.s.s on my flip-flops. We didn't say anything, but I did notice that Nok washed my feet twice before ma.s.saging them.
As she kneaded my body, I thought about what she'd said. Back home, death was hidden - in the dark, tinted windows of a hea.r.s.e, in the thick, drawn curtains of a funeral home. Here in Laos, death was in your face: the smoke from a funeral pyre, chickens being readied for supper, a goat hit by a car. It freaked me out a bit, made me think about things.
”Will you show me what to do at the temple?” I asked when the ma.s.sage was over. Nok hesitated.
”No.”
”Why?”