It rained all through the night which may have partly explained why they had no callers. None of the neighbors dropped by with fruit baskets or asked if they were settling in okay. Bodge got the idea this would really be an ideal spot to vanish from the world for a couple of years. If he didn’t make any waves he was sure he’d be ignored by just about everyone. Perhaps that was what Palmer had in mind.
But that theory took a setback the following morning. It was still raining when Stephanie went off to get some shopping done at the market. She hadn’t been gone a minute when Bodge heard a stranger’s voice downstairs. In the large living room he found Bet attempting to make herself understood by a pretty but overly decorated young woman with wild, deep blond hair. She looked up at Bodge, smiled, and abandoned Bet completely.
“Monsieur Rogers.” she said, reaching out for his hand and not releasing it. “I’m so glad to meet you at last.”
“Enchanted, Madam.” He could feel the large rings on her wedding finger.
“I’m Madame Dupré, the wife of the Administrator. I believe you met my husband.”
“Yes.”
“He was very impressed with your French. I must say I find you impressive as well.”
Her hand was slowly kneading his and through it he could feel her excitement. He suddenly believed the rumors he’d heard in Saigon. She buzzed with sensuality. It was as if she were wired for the mating season. The way she eyed him up and down. The way her tongue flicked her top lip. The way her hips ground slightly as she stood. Bodge had no doubt Mme. Dupré was advertising. He could remember very few meetings in his life that made him realize so clearly that he was just a man.
“Ehrr, do sit down, Madame,” Bodge said with a flutter in his voice.
“Thank you so much, but I can’t stay. I just came by to pay my respects to you both. Is your wife here?”
Bodge couldn’t understand how they hadn’t met on the front path. “No. She’s gone to the market.”
She still had him snared between her fingers. She looked at the small plaster on his head and then, deliberately, to his thigh. “I heard about your terrible misadventure in Saigon. I hope it hasn’t impaired your normal functions.”
“I’m getting better, thank you.”
“I do hope so. We expect a lot from you.”
“You do?”
“Ban Methuot has so many people… in need.”
“So I heard.” He didn’t like this woman.
Finally, she released him from her hand but still held his crotch with her eyes. “I hope to be seeing much more of you,” she said and licked some stray lipstick from her front tooth. She smiled, turned, and sashayed out the front door. It didn’t occur to Bodge to show her out. He was still a little stunned. He was certain he’d just been violated in some way but couldn’t put a name to it.
35.
Over the next few days, the Rogers put together a short term plan to give the town some evidence that they weren’t just there on holiday. As soon as there was a break in the weather, they would drive out to the villages on the Cornfelts’ list and introduce themselves to the Montagnard. They decided it would be circumspect to offer Bible readings there in the living room also, but they would be in English to avoid the likelihood of anyone turning up. There was a Vietnamese Catholic priest in town to take care of Ban Methuot souls. They felt they could get away with doing their evangelical business in the surrounding countryside.
“Steph?”
“Yes, honey?”
The missionaries were once again lying naked side by side bathed in sweat. The empty Cabernet bottle and the bedside corkscrew the only evidence of their nightly tipples.
“This, what we do…what we are?”
Stephanie waited patiently for more but heard only the distant toads toasting the end of another storm.
“I think I’ll need a little more if you expect a response.”
“I’m sorry. I mean, how would you classify our relationship?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean, what role does emotion play in what we have here?”
“Did you want me to answer for both of us?”
“No, just you will be fine.”
“You’re asking, ‘Am I crazy in love with you?’”
“That’s a start.”
“No!”
“You don’t want some time to think about it?”
“Are you relieved? Disappointed? Do you think someone like me should be grateful to have a man interested in her?”
“Stop that, now. You’re being mean… to both of us. You know that isn’t what I think at all. I’m just trying to understand the way I’m feeling and it would help if I knew what was going through your mind.”
“You don’t handle mystique too well, do you, Bodge? You always expect there to be an answer.”
“Is that unreasonable?”
“It’s unromantic. Situations tend to lose their magic when you start to analyze them. Relationships are a good example of that. The most incredible romance I’ve ever had was in Guatemala with a guy who didn’t speak a word of English. I had no idea what he was thinking. I was so in love with that man.”
“You don’t think — sorry — you don’t think that’s a little bit two-dimensional?”
“What’s wrong with shallow? That third dimension is terribly overrated. To really be infatuated with someone it helps not to know them at all. Look at you and the concubine.”
A feeling of guilt descended upon him and Bodge could only fight his way out of it through indignation.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never met the woman.”
“Yet you instantly know which particular concubine I’m talking about.”
“I…I can’t s…” Bodge was caught out — a guilty paramour exposed in the marital bed. He’d barely mentioned Hong. He’d perhaps inquired about Stephanie’s meetings to discuss the case of the missing Montagnard women but he’d been careful not to ask too many questions about the concubine. How could she know? They were unfathomable, these women.
“Stop changing the subject. I’m asking about you and me.”
“You and me? We work together and we fuck, Bodge. We’re friends who fuck. We admire certain things about each other but we don’t get too carried away.”
“How do you know I’m not carried away?”
“Oh, Bodge. See what I mean? This communication thing’s a real bummer in relationships.”
“Really. How do you know I’m not in love with you?”
She laughed and rolled onto her back. He watched as her breasts caught up with her and settled. “You men. You always confuse physical feeling with emotion.”
“So, tell me.”
She tipped her head to his side of the pillow and let the back of her hand creep across his thigh. “When you thought I’d died in the car bombing what did you feel?”
“I was devastated.”
“How sweet. And how long did that devastation last?”
“How long?”
“Yeah. How long was it before you could fight your way back into your routine? How broken up were you? Was your own life suddenly not worth living? Did you consider suicide, Bodge?”
He thought it was a joke question so he laughed. But it became quite clear from the way she clamped her hand onto his balls that she was deadly serious.
“Ow! I didn’t know you so well then.”
“And you still don’t. If you did, you’d know that devastation’s the very least I expect from a man I bothered to love — wrist slashing, heart crushing, life ending devotion. That isn’t something you pick up gradually. It’s a thing that slaps you from the first moment you meet. Palmer told me about your reaction to the concubine’s photos. That’s the way I want a man to feel about me.”
“Will you stop bringing Von Hong into—?”
“I don’t want to train him. I want him to be convinced from the outset that he isn’t going to find any better. If that doesn’t happen, that’s
fine. But don’t expect compromise from me. I like you, Bodge, and we get along well together. Sex works for us. But you aren’t offering enough. Get over it.”
She released her grip on his balls and his conscience and turned her back to him. The interview was over. He put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her neck. Love was a word that had lost its worth. Its devaluation over the years had rendered it appropriate for so much meaningless flotsam. He loved Stephanie, he knew he did. But how much more than he loved Lou’s cooking or his expensive hi-fi he couldn’t say. She was right. He would never end his own life to mourn her death.
With his arm around Stephanie, he dreamed of Hong that night as he had on many other occasions. When Bet knocked on their door to tell them they had a visitor he was still in the company of the consort and had difficulty leaving her to go to the door. He grabbed his robe from the door hook and walked drowsily to the staircase. And such was the cohesion between the sleeping and the waking worlds, it didn’t immediately seem a surprise to him to see Hong standing in the middle of the living room. It wasn’t until she moved toward him and spoke that a panic took over him.
“Monsieur Rogers,” she said in beautiful melodic French. “I’m terribly sorry to trouble you so early.”
“Your Royal Highness,” he replied, cemented to the fourth step. He nodded pathetically.
“You seem to know who I am. That shows great initiative on your part.” She walked to the bottom step and held out her hand to him. It was a probe extending through some other dimensional tunnel from the world of fantasy to the world of reality. He looked at it for the longest time until it occurred to him he was expected to take hold of it. But as soon as he did, he realized he could never go back to his own world. The warmth of her fingers sent a shudder all the way to his heart.
“Your Royal Highness.”
“I believe we’ve already established that, Monsieur Rogers.”
“Yes, of course. You’re right. What, ehr, what can I do for you?”
“I take it Madame Rogers didn’t inform you of the meeting we have scheduled this morning.”
“We have a meeting? I mean, perhaps she did. I have a terrible memory, and so many meetings.”
“I understand. If I may sit?”
“Sit? Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, please do.”
She sat on the large soft Liberty Print sofa that had been imported from London to make visitors to ‘heaven’ feel they were sinking into a flower-patterned cloud. To Bodge, she looked positively angelic amid the green petals. He ventured down to ground level and realized he was in the presence of royalty and he was wearing nothing but a bathrobe.
“Reverend,” she said with the slightest of smiles on her lips. “You seem a little flustered. I hope my visit hasn’t caused you any discomfort.” Bodge stood behind a waist-high aspidistra to disguise his dishabille.
“No, no. I guess I’m not exposed to that many royal personages in New York.” Of course he was supposed to have said Tennessee.
“Then you should relax. Royalty isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be. I’m flesh and bones, just like you.”
“Hardly.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Bodge’s discomfort was interrupted by a ring at the front door. Bet sped past them and headed for the door, bending uncomfortably at the waist the whole way. School Director Petit handed her his umbrella as he walked in.
“Hope I’m not late,” he said, bowing deferentially toward the consort. This made Bodge feel even more awkward in that he’d forgotten all he’d learned in his protocol class. And, at that moment, Stephanie, dressed impeccably in a wrap-around skirt and silk blouse strode down the staircase like an operatic diva. It appeared there was just the one attendee who hadn’t been expecting this meeting. As they sat around the expensive lounge suite, Bodge whispered into his wife’s ear.
“Didn’t you forget to tell me about this?”
“No, I thought it would be a lovely surprise for you,” she replied.
Bet, still doubled over like a shelf-hinge ran in with a tray of water glasses and a full pitcher, deposited them on the coffee table and was about to flee the scene when Hong told her to stop.
“My friend,” she said in the girl’s own language. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to attend this meeting as well.” The teenager almost fell to the floor in shock. “Please,” Hong added. Bet sat on a wooden chair by the table. “This will be our final meeting before the long process of official paperwork begins,” Hong went on. “And I believe I have some good news for you all.”
36.
As a result of the pledges made that morning, Bodge found himself inextricably trapped in Ban Methuot. There were fewer and fewer convoys passing through, now. As they decreased, the chances of Bodge escaping lessened. But even if he’d been able to secure himself a place on one of the trucks, his promise to the second consort prevented him from leaving town until their work was done.
“I don’t get the feeling we’ve started our stay here particularly low-key,” he said to Stephanie as they ate one of her home made dinners that night.
“I couldn’t really refuse the Emperor’s consort, could I now?”
“She is something, isn’t she?”
“Is that a sparkle I see in your eyes, Reverend Rogers?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Rogers.”
“But I agree. She came to see me almost as soon as I arrived here. I know we aren’t supposed to get ourselves tied up in domestic issues. But I enjoy a good fight and I didn’t think it would hurt to be on friendly terms with our royal neighbors. Plus she isn’t the easiest woman to refuse.”
“You like her?”
“I like what I see. But I think that lady has more layers than I could ever start to unpeel. You keep away from her, Bodge. It sounds to me you’re in enough shit already without that. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
If disaster hadn’t struck as cruelly as it did, Bodge may well have avoided trouble right through to the dry season. But, although he had no idea at the time, the ill winds that had been gathering were all converging on Robert Bodge Leon.
It was a Friday. The rain had taken to coming on in the early evening and lulling the inhabitants of Ban Methuot to sleep. Apart from those with access to the Administration’s generator, there was no electricity. Most families were guided by the setting and rising sun as to when to go to bed and when to rise. The Roger’s chateau was outside the electricity quadrant so the house was a shimmering grotto of oil lamps.
Since the meeting the previous week, school’s Inspector Petit had been the only regular visitor at the Rogers’ house. Mademoiselle Hong had mysteriously disappeared so all their arrangements had been put on hold until they could find her. But Petit enjoyed discussing American literature with Stephanie and preferred the company of this couple to that of the French expatriates at the clubhouse. His English was very turn-of-the-century classic and Stephanie found herself adopting the same style when they spoke.
“Mr. Petit,” Stephanie said. The three of them were in the dining room still sitting at the table enjoying an after-dinner port. “There is a mystery my husband and I can’t seem to solve. Perhaps you could help?”
“I’ll try, of course.”
“Behind our house is a garish pink building with a leg sticking out of the roof.” Even in the dim lamplight she could see him blush.
“That,” he said, “is the House of the Eight-and-a-half Women.” Bodge and Stephanie laughed.
“You might have to explain that,” said Bodge.
“It is what I’ve read to be called a bawdy house. The owner is one Madame Vin, whom I’m told was once a very famous singer in Hanoi. She modeled her establishment on a grand bordello in Saigon named the House of the Five Hundred Girls. It’s just that it’s harder to get girls out here in the wilderness, especially with the French military ban on troops visiting the place.”
“They don’t let soldiers go to a brothel?” Stephanie asked with an astonish
ed look on her face.
“The present Western commander, General LePenn, expressly forbids it. He’s convinced the place is riddled with sexually transmitted diseases.”
“And, is it?” Bodge asked.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know such a thing. Madame Vin does give her girls regular checks, so I hear.”
“You’ve not been there yourself?”
A look came over Petit’s face that suggested he was deciding whether or not to lie. He was, after all, in the company of workers of the Lord. “I may by chance have wandered in there on occasions.”
Bodge smiled at Stephanie. “And what happened, when you wandered in there by chance?”
“I took the opportunity to look around, naturally. A teacher has to be a student of life.”
“What did you see?”
“They have an area for smoking.”
“Opium?”
“That’s right. Then there’s a section for flirting with young ladies.”
“And short time rooms?” Stephanie asked.
Petit looked down at his empty plate. “I believe so.”
“I’d always been led to believe that smoking opium and…flirting weren’t the most compatible of pastimes. I’ve been told that opium quells the passions,” Stephanie said with a studious expression.
“For which the girls are occasionally grateful — I should imagine.” He took a large gulp of his port. This wasn’t the type of topic he ever expected to be discussing with missionaries.
“Which leaves only one question then,” Stephanie pushed onward. “I can understand that women would prefer to work in establishments such as this if there were a regular flow of randy servicemen to…service. So, as Ban Methuot has banned its soldiers from attending, Mme. Vin can find only eight girls. But I’m at a loss to understand where she might find a half woman.”
Bleeding in Black and White Page 19