Part 10 (1/2)
”For driving drunk and killing someone,” the officer said.
”But how do you know he was drunk?”
”You said he was driving on the wrong side of the road, weaving back and forth?”
”Yeah, that's right.”
”Cla.s.sic sign.”
”Mr. Phon, where's the girl now? I need to see her. She died because of me.”
”Based on your statements you did nothing wrong.”
”If I hadn't been driving on this road ...” The truck driver's voice trailed off as he looked at his feet. Seng could see him wiping his eyes.
”She's at the morgue,” Officer Phon continued.
Seng's heart plummeted and he closed his eyes, stunned. He couldn't move. This isn't real, he said over and over again in his head. This can't be real.
”We found a business card on her body,” the officer continued. ”She worked at one of the ma.s.sage houses. Her co-worker identified her.”
”Not her family?”
”Apparently there is a brother, but we can't find him. The co-worker said there is a boyfriend, too. A falang. She said they were both supposed to be at the party.”
Seng fell to his knees. The officer suddenly turned in his direction, peering carefully into the bush, as if he had heard something, but then he shrugged, seeming to dismiss the idea. Seng buried his face into his trembling hands. Then he covered his mouth to stifle his sobs.
Finally he heard the engine of the officer's motorbike starting. He turned to look up and could see the truck driver crouched over the place where Nok had fell, his head bent. Seng stood up slowly, as quietly as he could. He wanted someone with whom to share his grief. He would go to the man and they could weep together. Seng took a step forward, but then thought again. He turned around and darted back into the deep bush.
Blur.
Cam.
Julia had freaked out about my injuries from the fall in the cave.
”They sewed you up without anesthetic? How do you know the needle was clean? Somchai should have contacted me.”
”Somchai was perfect. I'm glad he was there instead of you.”
”We need to take you to the international clinic as soon as Lao New Year is over. I'm making an appointment.”
But the day after Lao New Year I woke up before Julia and painstakingly biked past farmers ushering their water buffalos through fields. My slow pace was making me feel like a water buffalo. I didn't care about my stupid ankle. I only wanted to see Nok. That's what I needed to feel better. I was so anxious to get to Fa Ngum Ma.s.sage, but my ankle kept sending twinges of pain up my leg, even though the doctor in Vang Vieng said I could begin putting weight on it after a few days. It was taking me so long to get there. I was desperate to find the door to the ma.s.sage house propped open just as it always was in the mornings to allow the cooler air in. I arrived at last, breathless and sore, and was totally relieved when I saw Nana unlocking the front door. I had driven by five times during the last day of Lao New Year, but the door was always locked. I waved at Nana and attempted a smile. She didn't smile back. The corners of my mouth shook with nerves. I was definitely not playing it cool.
Nana stopped fiddling with her keys and searched my eyes apprehensively. Was she afraid that I was still angry? She didn't understand English, but before I could put the Lao words together to apologize she launched into a staccato monologue. She was frantic. I tried to follow, but she was speaking so quickly. Nerves stymied my brain. Her chubby hands were waving all over the place, her eyes looked terrified. I was making out some words: terrible, New Year, Nok's gone, not here. But as she rattled on, and the searing sun began to p.r.i.c.k at my neck, my impatience grew and made it even more difficult for me to understand. Soon Nana's story became so twisted and disjointed in my head that I pretended I understood and quickly left in a haze of frustration. I needed Somchai.
I biked to the plastics factory near our village where he said he was going to look for a job. He wasn't going to even bother trying to go to school this semester. My mind was so frantic I didn't notice the rain. After months of living in a dry sauna the few drops promised that the wet season would finally come. I should have been doing pop-a-wheelies for joy. Instead I was freaking out. Had something awful happened? Or was Nana giving me a piece of her mind for losing it on her friend?
I skidded my bike into the plastics factory courtyard and spotted Somchai standing in a long line of men, their hands turned upwards towards the sky, trying to feel the relief of raindrops on their sweaty palms. He saw me and waved me over.
”Rain!” he said with a laugh, his bright face turned up to the darkening sky. Then he turned to look at me. ”Hey,” he said, ”you shouldn't be biking yet.”
”Somchai, you've got to come with me.”
”What? Why aren't you at school?”
”It's Nok. I think something bad has happened. She's not at the ma.s.sage house. I need you to translate.”
It was only after Somchai doubled me on the back of my bike and we were halfway to the ma.s.sage house that I realized he had left his place in line for me.
When we got back to Fa Ngum Ma.s.sage, the other ma.s.seuses scattered as soon as they saw me. One of them called for Nana. Nana walked down the stairs to the front desk of the ma.s.sage house and held her hand up to her heart as she began to chatter anxiously to Somchai. My gut wrenched. I didn't understand a thing. I watched Somchai's face fall. I was so afraid and powerless, standing there, stupid, yet at the same time knowing that things would never be the same again. All I could do was wait. It seemed like they were talking for an eternity. Finally, Somchai turned to me.
”Brother,” he said, and I could tell by the softening of his voice that it was really bad. He paused, trying to find the right way to tell me.
”I'm so sorry.” He swallowed. ”She is gone. Nok died. I'm sorry, Cam.” His gentle face, the empty room, Nana's sad eyes watching me closely - it all blurred at the edges. I couldn't see right. I couldn't have heard right. Somchai wrapped his strong, sinewy arms around me.
”No, it's a mistake,” I said. ”It can't be.”
Somchai hugged me tighter.
”How?” I looked up from Somchai's shoulder, tears like monsoon rain down my cheeks. Nana just shook her head. My voice squeaked. ”Somchai? How?”
”It was a motorbike accident, brother,” he said gently. ”After a New Year party.”
I hung my head. The party I was supposed to go to.
”Who was driving?” I wanted someone to be angry at. Someone to blame.
”Nana doesn't know, Cam. She said there is a police investigation underway.”
”What do you mean?”
”Nok was alone, by the bike. The police said she fell off the back. The driver has disappeared.”
It had to be a mistake. It couldn't have really happened. I must still be in a fog from Vang Vieng. Once it cleared, everything would be back to normal. I just had to wait it out. In a trance, I let Somchai double me on my bike back to our village. My body felt so heavy I could barely move it. I slumped up against his back as his feet pedalled up and down, up and down.
Everything was in slow motion. I watched, as if I were watching images on a TV screen, as Somchai prayed at a tiny replica of a temple perched on a white post in front of his home. A spirit house, he called it. The spirit house - white and red with an ornate roof curving up to a sharp, golden point - looked like a miniature version of the temple where Nok had taken me. I had noticed that most Lao homes had one in front. The tall palm trees of our village rustled nervously. Somchai lit a stick of incense and the fragrant smoke drifted languidly around us. He placed it by the small front door. I saw him close his dark eyes, place his hands in prayer at his forehead, and mouth a prayer. I heard the air eddy about his lips as he chanted wordlessly. Bad spirits out, good spirits in. I staggered. Nothing felt real.
Alibi.
Seng.
Seng crouched in the shadows, tossing pebbles at the shutters of Khamdeng's window. After hearing what the investigative officer told the truck driver, he had spent the day in the bush, drinking water from a trickling stream to replenish his tears. Nok was gone. Dead. There would be no university, no falang love, no hope. He had never felt so alone or so terrified. The death penalty? He would have gladly died in the accident instead of Nok. In fact it should have been him. But it was another thing to have his life taken by the government. He shook his head. He couldn't believe he was even thinking about these things. He'd give anything to worry about something as stupid as how many plastic combs he could sell.