18mm Blues

by Gerald A. Browne

  “On the bare ground?” Julia uttered.

  William shrugged.

  Julia placed her hand upon William’s and gave it three sympathetic pats.

  Grady noticed, had to tell himself it was only a show of kindness and so what that William was a very good-looking guy.

  Julia withdrew her hand.

  William told them, “One night I discovered a narrow space between columns that allowed me to get into the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. There it was: a veritable giant fifty feet long, close to twenty feet high, covered completely with gold leaf. No matter that it was a kind old Buddha in repose and hadn’t moved an inch in several centuries, through my nine-year-old eyes the way the flames of the many candles around its base flickered reflections on its gold skin it certainly appeared animate enough to sit up and demand to know what I was doing there. Then I noticed at the base of the figure, among the great many candles and lengths of incense and joss sticks and garlands, worshippers had also placed as offerings bits of things to eat. Choice chunks of chicken and beef and pork, all fancily prepared and presented to please Buddha. All sorts of delicacies. Bowls of sweet sticky rice, oranges in syrup, bananas in coconut milk. Needless to say, my appetite overcame my trepidations. I remember gazing up at the plump golden face of the Buddha while my mouth was stuffed, trying to convince myself that he approved and was inviting me to return.

  “Which I did, of course. About ten nights in a row. I was caught then by one of the monks. He wanted to toss me out into the Jetapon road, but another monk was against that, took charge of me, had me bathed, had my head shaved, provided me with a white cotton wraparound skirt and a white shirt, showed me how to sit without exposing my feet, and otherwise transformed me into a novice.

  “It was, obviously, a major change for me. I got to sleep in the monks’ quarters and was provided with a metal alms bowl like all the monks had, so I could go out to the gate each morning and allow people to give me food in exchange for merits toward a better next life. Wat Po was good for me. I did my tasks, was ordained and given saffron-colored robes, was taught among other things how to read, write and speak English. Not just the basics of the language but also its many incredible double meanings. I remained at Wat Po until I was eighteen. The last three years were stressful in one regard.” William left that hanging.

  Are we supposed to guess what that regard was? Grady thought.

  William told them, “A Buddhist monk is forbidden from ever touching a woman or being touched by one. That applies even to his mother. Only an unintentional brush by a woman in a crowd is excusable.”

  “What a pity!” Julia blurted.

  Grady thought, What this William was saying was he got so horny he couldn’t hack it. No blame for that. Probably still a horny sort. He hadn’t so far made a move on Julia but… “When did you get into cutting?” Grady asked.

  “Soon after I left Wat Po,” William replied. “I met a man named Carl Kleckner, an older man, a Belgian. He thought I’d make a good cutter, said I had the hands and the preciseness for it. Although I don’t see how he could have known that. He was extremely patient with me, showed me how to visualize a gemstone, foresee the geometry that determines a better cut, all the fine points of the trade. Earlier on he’d lost his only son and no doubt I was the surrogate. Ten years ago he sold me half the business for about a quarter of what it was worth and a less than fair percentage and went back to Antwerp. We keep in close touch.”

  “Was it always the Lady So Remembered Gem-Cutting Factory?” Julia asked.

  “No, it used to be just Kleckner’s Gem Cutting. I changed it.”

  “And who may I ask is the Lady So Remembered? An old flame?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Your mother perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Julia was obviously pleased. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Not at the present time or never have been?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Living with someone?”

  “Let’s just say I’m looked after.”

  “By someone special.”

  “A Thai woman.”

  “Girl or woman?”

  “A woman who looks like a girl. Typical Thai.”

  “I suppose she’s very pretty?”

  “Most Thai women are.”

  “How long have you been with her?”

  “Two years.”

  “You consider that quite a while?”

  “No.”

  “But she does?”

  “I believe so. One night I’ll come home and she won’t be there, but everything will be good right up to then.”

  “I like her.”

  “You don’t know her.”

  “Okay, I think I’d like her if I did. Would she come to the hotel one day and have lunch with me?”

  “I doubt it. Anyway why would you want that?”

  “What does she do with herself while you’re at the cutting factory? I mean other than keep house, cook and all that.”

  “She makes paper umbrellas. Baw Sang, where she was brought up, is well known for the making of hand-painted paper umbrellas. She’s particularly good at it.”

  “Baw Sang, is that what you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Up in Chiang Mai.”

  “Why would she leave you?”

  “Perhaps in order to always be able to know she was true to me.”

  Julia nodded just perceptibly. “What did you say your mother’s name was?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then, what was it?”

  “Emi.” He spelled it for her.

  “Was she pretty?”

  “Beautiful.”

  “But how was it she couldn’t swim?”

  “She never learned. Having her head underwater terrified her.”

  Julia had a sudden impulse to chastise William, to slap him. Her hand seemed compelled, separate from the rest of her. The impulse subsided. “When were you last in Hegurajima?”

  “About a year ago. You know, you pronounced that correctly, can you do it again?”

  Julia purposely mispronounced it. “You should go there more often,” she advised. “It must be a peaceful, quiet place.”

  “I’m not yet that much in need of peace and quiet.”

  Grady sighed loudly. Actually it was more of a signal than a sigh. He noticed his napkin had slipped to the floor. Didn’t retrieve it. He glanced over the railing to the water. Directly below in the low light was a crude wooden boat with three persons in it, a man, a woman and a sleeping child. The woman in the stern was using a paddle to keep the boat from hitting against the restaurant’s floating platform. Grady surmised that if their presence was detected they’d be shooed away. He wished he had some food to give them. There’d been so much, so much left over. But the table had been cleared of everything except the tea, and a bowl of sugar cubes. He reached for the sugar bowl, brought it to himself. Appeared to be merely providing his hands with something to do. Took three cubes from the bowl. As inconspicuously as possible he folded a five hundred baht note (twenty dollars) around each of the cubes. He’d gotten the purple-colored notes at the exchange at the hotel. They were brand-new so they folded crisply, tight. When he had the three cubes done he glanced at Julia and William. They were still going at it, hadn’t noticed, wouldn’t. Grady planned to toss the money-wrapped sugar cubes to the lesser fortunates in the boat. It was going to make him feel better. He imagined how much it would mean to them, pictured their faces when they realized what he’d tossed.

  He looked over the rail.

  They weren’t there. Nothing but the river and night. They’d given up on him.

  A couple of hours later Grady and Julia were in the dark in their suite on the twelfth floor of the Oriental. Taking up only about a third of the king-size bed because Julia was way over on Grady’s side, most of her bareness in touch with his.

  “
What the hell was that all about?” Grady asked.

  “Which that?”

  “The way you went on and on with him, William.”

  “I just felt like talking.”

  “That wasn’t talk. It was an interrogation.”

  “Was I that bad?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Of course I do, but was I that bad?”

  “I think you were. You really grilled him. I’ve got to hand it to him though, he held his own.”

  “He did, didn’t he?”

  “For a moment there you came close to getting into his sex life. Do you want to get into it?”

  “Hell no.”

  “He’s a good-looking guy, isn’t he?”

  “Very.”

  “Intelligent too.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why shouldn’t you be interested?”

  “Stop fishing.”

  “I’m just asking. You kept hitting him with all those questions, pumping him.”

  “I don’t know what got into me.”

  A fairly long silence, a hitch in the night talk, setting the background for Grady to ask, “Do you love me?”

  “I’ve begun to.”

  “When was the beginning?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Sometime along the line. How about you?”

  “Me?”

  “You love me?”

  Grady put off replying in order to enjoy her question. “I’m afraid so,” he said. If it hadn’t been for the dark she’d have seen his grin.

  She gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. “When did you start being afraid?” she asked.

  “As I look back I think it was in Browderbank’s office.” That first day at his attorney’s.

  “Coup de foudre, huh?”

  “Knocked my socks off.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Don’t get smug about it.”

  “Why not?” She kissed his shoulder, a series of adoring, nibbling kisses. “I was wondering, did you believe everything William revealed about himself?”

  “I only half heard about half of what he said. By the way, you were terrific on the gangway.”

  “Wasn’t I though?”

  “Besides, why should he lie?” Grady thought aloud.

  “You tell me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The following morning while waiting for room service to bring some brioche and over-easies, Grady phoned Doris. Because of the difference in times he reached her at home. “I tried to get ahold of you this afternoon,” she said, “at the hotel in Rangoon. They paged you for a long while and finally decided you were in the swimming pool. Is that where you were?”

  “We checked out yesterday.”

  “So where are you now?”

  He told her.

  “I assume that means Rangoon was shit city.”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You scored? What did you get?”

  “I said you’ll see. How’s everything at the office?”

  “In capable hands. I took fifty out of petty cash yesterday because there was a shoe sale at Saks.”

  “You called to tell me that?”

  “No. Also, I was in the elevator with Harold day before yesterday. Monday, I think it was. As far as he was concerned I was invisible. The prick. He had Gayle with him. She was sunken eyed. Sniffling and her nostrils looked raw, but I don’t think she had a cold, if you know what I mean.” Without a pause she asked, “How’s the honeymoon going?”

  “Swell.”

  “Like swollen?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “Foreign places usually upgrade the libido. Me, I only have to go from one room to another.”

  “I’m sure you’re getting your share.”

  “I’d prefer a little more quality. Seriously, how’s it going?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Need I remind you that you don’t do so well with marriage? Anyway, promise me you’ll think twice, no, three or four times.”

  Grady promised.

  “The reason I was calling, other than to disturb you, was Phil Prentis was in the building and dropped by. He used to do some now and then business with you when you were at H and H, remember him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I happened to mention where you were and he said maybe that could be a profitable coincidence for both you and him because he’s trying to locate some yellow sapphires. There are plenty here but they’re not special enough. He’ll pay top price.”

  Grady clearly recalled Prentis. He always wanted best quality, always paid within thirty days. “What exactly does he want?”

  “Forty graduated pieces from twenty carats to four carats, matched canary color, on the light side, but with flash.”

  “Ovals?”

  “Rounds.”

  Such a suite of ovals might be findable but rounds would be tough. Not out of the question, though. Not here in Bangkok. “I’ll see what I can do,” Grady told her.

  “I’d like to see what you can do.”

  “You never let up.”

  “Not until I’m whipped and on certain occasions especially not then. When are you coming back?”

  “I had thought of trying for a flight today but now there’s the yellow sapphires. Maybe I’ll find them today or tomorrow. Soon as I do or feel sure that I won’t I’ll be out of here.”

  At the very moment Grady hung up from talking to Doris the breakfast arrived and also at that very same moment Julia came from the bedroom dressed in lightweight white and sandals, looking fresh and ready for the day. Grady thought this was going to be one of those really good days when everything is in sync. Days like that were seldom, but this was starting out to be one. He and Julia had made early morning love, one portion each, and been right together with it at the finish.

  The waiter laid out the breakfast and stood by. Julia dismissed him, did the serving. “My eggs are cold and rubbery,” she said, more of a description than a complaint. “How are yours?”

  “Mine are fine, here, have mine.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call down for another order.” Grady started to reach for the phone.

  “Never mind. I’ll just have brioche and marmalade. That’s about all I want anyway. The coffee’s good,” she said after a slurp of it. “Who were you on the phone with?”

  Grady told her, also told her about the yellow sapphires he’d be looking for.

  “That’ll take you most of the day, won’t it?”

  “Possibly. Why?”

  “I don’t want to be tagging along.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Nothing special, just look around, shop.”

  There goes the sync, Grady thought. “You have some money?” he asked.

  “I’ve plenty, thank you.”

  They went down in the elevator. It made three stops to take people on. It was as though speaking were forbidden during the ride. Outside at the hotel’s entrance Julia agreed they’d meet at the suite at five or sooner. But no later than five. The doorman beckoned a taxi. Julia would walk. Grady got a possessive peck on the cheek from her before he was taken away.

  He didn’t find Prentis’s suite of yellow sapphires that day, looked at many yellows but most were too chrome, others too pale. He knew precisely the gentle but bright yellow Prentis wanted. For lunch he had a bowl of noodles and some satay chicken at a street stand, got caught in the daily afternoon downpour, incessantly wondered what Julia might be doing. He returned to the hotel at five sharp, more than half expecting she wouldn’t be there.

  But she was.

  On the sofa, reading. Sandals kicked off, legs elevated, skirt hiked up shamelessly. On the rug within easy reach was a tray holding a bottle of Evian, glasses, lime quarters, and a bowl of fruit. Grady caught the hello kiss her lips threw at him. “Find your sapphires?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t say anyt
hing.”

  “You said good.”

  “Did I? I didn’t mean to.”

  Grady helped himself to the Evian. Squeezed in some lime. “What did you do today?” he asked, sitting on the rug with his back against the sofa.

  “Lots of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “I earned some merits. On the street just a couple of blocks from here a woman had a stack of little wooden cages with birds in them and a sign promising merits toward a better next life to anyone who’d set them free.”

  “For how much?”

  “A hundred bahts each. What’s that? Four dollars? I went for six cages. The birds flew right out, took off like they were a hell of a lot happier.”

  “Yeah, and they probably flew right back as soon as you were gone.”

  “I doubt that. Anyway, twenty-four dollars was cheap enough considering what I possibly had to gain. Or perhaps you don’t think so. We’ve never discussed such things, have we, souls and so on?”

  A shrug from Grady.

  “Then, after the bird woman, I had my palms and my feet read.”

  “Your feet read?”

  “Two holy-looking guys in orange robes were doing it from the tailgate of an old station wagon. One did palms, the other did feet. The one who read my feet spent a lot of time doing it, said I was an extremely complex person, more complex than I knew. He was particularly fascinated with the crease between the ball and the second toe of my left foot. Took off his dark glasses to get a better look at it. I was artistic, he said, and very angry, which I don’t understand at all, but at least he was half right.”

  “Did you manage to do any shopping?”

  “Not much. At a bookstore I found another Alice Bailey and I bought a paper umbrella from a vendor on the street. The man said it was the kind from Baw Sang so possibly it’s one that William’s live-in did.” She reached back around the end of the sofa for the umbrella, opened it and held it above her. It was bright pink, four to five feet in diameter, hand-painted with leaves of green and blossoms of orange with purple centers. The happy colors were infectious. Julia got up and did a haughty walk and some snappy pivots, a fashion model’s phlegmatic show-off strut while spinning the umbrella so its ribs and floral pattern blurred and blended. Finally she dropped backward over the fat arm of a chair and deep into its lap, her legs shooting nearly straight up.