As much as the thought of her name stung me at first, I had to appreciate his honesty. Maybe all of this — Celia, Adam, losing my job — happened to bring us together.
“Well, if you promise to put down your shovel and act reasonably, we can entertain the possibility.”
“I promise.” Miles held up three fingers like a Boy Scout. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a definite maybe,” I said. It was a huge step that caught me by surprise and a decision not to be made on a whim.
“Good, because I think I might be in love with you.” My breath caught in my throat. Did he love me, or did he only think so? As much as I wanted him to outright say he loved me, I could understand his emotional vulnerability after the traumatic ending of such a serious relationship. I wanted to take it slow, and I was happy he wanted to, also. He raised a glass and said, “To us. To new beginnings.”
I raised mine, and after we clinked, we drained our glasses, and over dessert we finished the bottle. After charging the bill to his room, he took me by the arm and led me out onto the terrace. Enveloped by a warm evening breeze, I leaned over the railing, watching the reflections of street lamps shimmer on the rippling river surface, his words still racing in my head. I felt the energy shift as Miles’s footsteps stopped behind me. He gently dragged his finger down the back of my arm, causing my skin to pebble. When he whispered my name, I turned to face him, and he stepped forward, pressing me against the railing, his lips planting firmly on mine. He pried my lips open with his tongue as his hands grabbed at my thighs under my dress. His touch felt foreign and familiar all at the same time.
“Come upstairs with me.” His fingers dug into my hips, his breath hot in my ear.
It was the most perfect of nights and the most perfect of dates. But as his lips skated down my neck, instead of the way my body demanded his like it did with Xavier, I bristled to his touch. It felt more irritating than erotic. My mind was consumed by thoughts of his life-changing proposal. It was all happening so quickly. Less than two weeks ago, I wanted nothing to do with him, and now we were talking about love and moving to Singapore together. It was all too much.
I pushed him back. “This is moving too fast.”
He dropped his hands and stepped back.
“Fast? You were going to come traveling with me, did you think we were going to sleep in separate beds?”
Perhaps I had been naïve.
“You said we’d travel as friends… I thought…”
“What’s the problem? You’re not a virgin anymore.” His words knocked the wind out of me. He behaved exactly the same way he did on our last night together eight years ago: drunk and pushy. The difference now was that I had the strength to say no to him. As I steadied myself against the railing, his face flashed from angry to embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Overcome by anger, I slapped him across his cheek.
Shocked by my actions and still fuming, I strode across the terrace, through the door and down the long hallway, wondering how the best date of my life turned into the worst. I expected him to stop me, but he said nothing as I strode down the hallway to reception. I stopped in the center of the foyer, between two light brown leather seats and looked around. Reception clerks and bellhops smiled and bowed, but Miles was nowhere to be found.
He didn’t come after me.
Chapter 21
Date: March 22, 2010
Siem Reap, Cambodia
I nestled into the crowd of photographers on the muddy banks of the moat, waiting for the sun to rise over Angkor Wat. As the darkness lifted, salmon pink light reflected off the wisps of clouds silhouetting the swaying palm trees and the five redented towers that gave the temple its iconic shape. I had less than two weeks until the competition deadline, and while I had tons of images, I struggled to silence that little voice that said, none was a winner. And though I wanted to be able to shoot sprawling landscapes like Steve McCurry, I realized that after my experience at the Taj Mahal, these famous images had been done spectacularly once and recreated by every other professional, wannabe professional, and amateur alike. If I were going to make my mark in this world, I had to listen to my creative instincts and find my artistic voice. I had to show them who I was. So I turned my camera on the hundreds of hopeful photographers pushing each other for a clear shot and captured the temple through the LCD screens of the photographers ahead of me.
When I checked the playback, I scrolled back through my images with my former art teacher’s words ringing in my head as they had done since I hallucinated her face on the ride to the waterfall in Luang Prabang: You have no artistic vision. My Angkor Wat images felt like a step in the right direction. I kept scrolling all the way back to the images from the waterfall, and the photographs that popped out to me were the images of the mother and daughter in the rowboat in Ha Long Bay, the father teaching his son to cast a net in Vang Vieng, and I finally stopped on the image of the two sisters selling water at the base of Death Mountain. Then I remembered why I loved photography — its ability to stop time — and that felt more like my vision. To capture these beautiful moments of people who love each other unconditionally, moments I know too well that may never happen again.
Once the sun had risen, and the tour buses had begun to pile up in the parking lot, I bought a fresh mango shake and sat in the shade of a tree, looking out across the moat. After my night with Miles, I spent two more days in Phnom Penh before heading through the country to a city called Battambang before making it to Siem Reap with Jade, Lana, and the Swedish girls. When they asked how my date went, I was sparse on details. I couldn’t face Jade if she knew the truth. I was still reeling from what happened on the terrace, and I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that I hadn’t heard from him since. He must have been embarrassed by what he said and how he acted. Not only for his poor choice of words out on the terrace but how he opened up to me and showed me his vulnerability despite his recent heartbreak. And perhaps that I didn’t say yes outright rubbed some salt in that open wound. And then I slapped some more proverbial salt across his face. I did overreact a bit. Because…maybe I did love him back.
I wanted to be able to talk to someone about it, but I had no one. Tears pooled as the devastating realization set in that I couldn’t reach out to Audrey. She didn’t turn up that night in Vang Vieng, or since. Maybe the afterlife was like prison — you get one phone call. Or perhaps I really did just hallucinate what happened in the desert. But it felt so real, and I wanted so badly to believe that she was out there, that she existed in some form, so I didn’t feel so damn lonely anymore.
Then, as an orange-robed monk strode past me, I remembered something that Jade had said. In her quest for all things spiritual, she had studied the various religions that we had encountered from Hinduism to Sikhism to Buddhism, explaining their beliefs to us. She said that Buddhists believe that suffering is caused by the desire for permanence in earthly things, and I couldn’t help but think of not only how I clung to the idea of Audrey’s permanent existence but also how my parents did, and the suffering it brought to us all.
After Audrey died, my parents turned her room back from a library to how it looked while she still lived there. The photos of her were rehung on the light grey walls, her desk was stacked with her favourite books, and the soft blue cotton sheets were turned down, waiting for her to come home from a long day and slip under them. Audrey’s urn stood on the middle of the mantle in the living room, a constant reminder of the void in our family. While no one should ever have to bury a child, I wanted them to accept that she wasn’t coming home. I wanted them to be able to let go of her. They couldn’t live their lives while they were still waiting for her to walk through the door. They refused to sell the house that was too big for just the two of them. They refused to go on vacation. I wanted to believe that her spirit lived on somewhere, but truly, she could only exist in our hearts and memories. If they could understand, perhaps they could regain some feeling of c
ontrol over their world and be able to move on with their own lives. I had to, as well.
As the image of her urn stuck in my mind, an idea blossomed: I will ask them to bring Audrey’s ashes to Australia, the place in the world she wanted to see the most, nut never got to. Then it will be time for us to let go of her together.
***
On our last day in Siem Reap, our Nordic friends had signed us up for a Khmer cooking course on a rooftop restaurant situated on the famed “Pub Street”. And yes, Pub Street is exactly as the name sounds, nothing but restaurants and pubs, including the token Irish bar and our favourite, “Angkor What?!”
As a young Cambodian woman with long black hair and ebony eyes laid out bowls of aromatic spices, coconut milk, eggs, green mangos, fluffy rice, and utensils on the long wooden table, I asked Jade a question that had been niggling at me.
Doing my best to feign nonchalance as I grated my mango, I said, “Did you know Miles was in a serious relationship recently?”
She stopped rolling her spring roll. “I heard, but I didn’t know any details.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, about Celia?” Lana said.
How did Lana know about Celia?
“The first time he and Celia broke up, look at what happened to you. I was afraid that history was going to repeat itself.”
“Lana, why didn’t you tell me?” She looked at me and glanced at Jade.
Of course, Jade told her not to say anything.
“Please don’t fall for him again,” Jade said before Lana could answer.
Before I could tell her that I wasn’t a little girl anymore, Mira’s voice entered the conversation. “Are you talking about Miles?” I looked at her and nodded. “He said he’s heading to Koh Samui.”
“When did you talk to him?”
“Yesterday, when we were at the computers.”
I didn’t know why I was waiting for another apology. He had already apologized for what he said in the heat of the moment. He wasn’t perfect, and neither was I. He had laid bare his intentions, and the ball was in my court. It was my turn to step up and make the next move.
“Is he going to the Full Moon Party?” Haad Rin Beach was only a short boat ride away from Koh Samui.
“He didn’t say.”
I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to tell him yes, I did want to go to Singapore with him and start a new life. But to tell him over Facebook or email was too impersonal. I wanted to tell him in person.
“You’re going to Koh Samui next, right?” Once she nodded, I ran to my bag and pulled out my notebook. Tearing out a sheet, I scribbled a note:
Miles,
I’m sorry about Phnom Penh. Meet me under the Full Moon at Haad Rin with your shovel and I’m yours.
Love,
Harper
“Can you give this to him?” I said folding it up tightly and extending my hand towards Mira.
She smiled, tugged it from my grip, and slid it in her pocket and resumed making her Khmer curry.
***
The next day we traveled to Bangkok, and two days later we bid the Swedish girls goodbye under the bright lights of Khoa San Road. Then Lana, Jade, and I boarded a bus heading south, with all roads leading to the Full Moon Party.
Chapter 22
Date: March 27, 2010
Koh Phangan, Thailand
When the lines of the ferry were tied, we hoisted our backpacks onto our backs and stepped onto the pier, still weary after our night bus from Bangkok to the port of Surat Thani. I tried to nap on the ferry, but a squall had kicked up, rocking the vessel like a toy boat in a tub during a toddler’s bath time. As I stepped onto the pier of the infamous Thai island of Koh Phangan, I began to regain my equilibrium. The one good thing about seasickness is that it never lasts for too long once you’re planted back on land. And the land we just stepped into was paradise. Wooden Thai longboats and sailboats floated on vivid turquoise sea on either side of the pier facing the oncoming breeze. Before us lay an island of rolling hills, limestone karst cliff-faces, and forested headlands. It felt as if I had stepped into one of the paradisiac wallpapers that had been plastered on the walls of my old apartment.
Since all of the guesthouses on Koh Phangan required an advanced booking of a minimum of five nights, we didn’t have to bother with the song and dance of searching for one. Though originally peeved that we would only be able to stay for four nights and eat the cost of the additional one, a guaranteed place to rest our sleepy heads was a blessing.
On the days leading up to the Full Moon Party, I prepared myself for the big night, physically and emotionally. I joined the sun worshippers on Haad Rin to ready my tan, spent hours at the spa getting manicured, pedicured, scrubbed, massaged, and waxed as hairless as a mole rat. Every day, like a compulsive masochist, I checked my Facebook hoping that perhaps he had read my note and wanted to tell me where to meet him. But nothing. There had been activity on his page, and I could only hope, that maybe, just maybe, he had read my note and planned to find me and surprise me with the proclamation that he forgave me.
On our third day in Koh Phangan, the day before the Full Party, we explored the island away from Haad Rin by moped. During one of our stops, at a sliver of beach with a palm tree hanging just over the turquoise sea reaching towards the horizon, I decided to confide in the girls.
“So I didn’t tell you everything about my date with Miles,” I said, pushing a coiled shell in the sand with my big toe.
“That was obvious,” Jade said, lighting a cigarette. “He did something bad, didn’t he?”
“He asked me to move to Singapore with him.”
Lana clapped her hands and squealed. “What did you tell him? Oh my God, how romantic! But wait, why didn’t you get nookie that night?”
“Because I didn’t say yes,” I said, taking a seat on the grassy ledge overhanging the threshold of the beach.
“Good,” Jade said with smoke billowing from her mouth as she sat downwind next to me.
“But I didn’t say no, either.”
“Great!” Lana flopped on the other side of me.
“Look, I want to be with him.” I refrained from saying that I needed him to forgive me for that to happen. “Jade, I know you can’t understand, and you don’t agree with it, but I need you to be there for me. You both are like my sisters, and I crave your support.”
Jade blew out a long stream of smoke and gave me a smoky kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be there to support you. I always am, and I always will.”
With her words, I put my arms around the backs of my two best friends, the two girls I would be lost in this world without, kissed them on their cheeks, and, in silence we watched the light of the sun dance on the rippling sea.
***
Date: March 30, 2010
With the full moon headlining a chorus of stars in the night sky, I climbed into the back of the jumbo tuk tuk with Jade, Lana, and a thousand fluttering butterflies in my stomach and we made our way to the big event. I struggled to steady my breath as the vehicle jostled us about, our neon body paint glowing in the blue light embedded in the tuk tuk’s ceiling. We passed a bucket of vodka and Red Bull back and forth and finished it when we arrived at a parking lot behind Haad Rin beach.
On a normal night, the beach held a few hundred revelers, but on the night of Full Moon, tens of thousands of drunken backpackers make the pilgrimage. Riding the tide of neon-painted bodies through the town we decided that liquor was our top priority, and given the entrepreneurial spirit of the Thai people, it was not in short supply. Heeding the sound advice of the guidebook, we purchased bucket packages of mixers and top shelf liquor with caps tightly sealed from a proper shop on the edge of the beach, rather than the moonshine disguised as premium liquor from the vendors on the beach. With buckets of vodka Cokes filled to the brim, we stood on the threshold of the beach and looked out to the madness we were about to walk into.
“Hold onto your buckets, ladies,” I said grippin
g my handle, “it’s going to be a wild night.”
Haad Rin Beach was crescent shaped, with white sand stretching perhaps five to eight hundred feet in each direction to lush headlands, and one hundred feet in front of us to the gently lapping waves. A huge sign spelling “Full Moon Party” in flames stood before us. Bars lined the beach, each blaring pulsating house music, DJs clashing with one another as black lights strobed, illuminating the thousands upon thousands of partygoers. It was chaos in paradise.
“I’m never going to find him,” I said as I scanned the beach. Most of the party was concentrated on the southern end of the beach and trickled down to the northern end. It was an overwhelming sight, as was the thought of being lost in that crowd.
“Yes, you will,” Lana said giving my hand a squeeze.
Then a thought tightened the knot in my stomach: this was so not Miles’s scene. The seed of doubt that had been planted in my mind began to bloom. What if he didn’t show up? The vision of our life together in Singapore, my vision of having it all, began to fade.
After establishing the point of arrival as our meeting point if we got separated, we took our buckets and dove into the crowd. As we made our way club by club and bar by bar, towards the frenetic southern end of the beach, we managed to stick together for a while. Stopping at a club with a platform made from picnic benches pushed together, we pulled each other up and Lana flirted effortlessly with every guy in a twenty-foot radius while Jade swayed and lost herself in the music, and I took every opportunity to assess each blond-haired man who passed through my line of sight.
Then, as “Sex on Fire” roared from the speakers, a shock of inky black hair bounced in the distance.
It couldn’t be.
I craned my neck trying to get a better look but, as he turned, I lost my footing and tumbled from the platform onto the soft sand. Jade and Lana jumped down to pick me up.
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