by O Thiam Chin
For whatever reason I could not quite fathom, I continued to watch the man as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the air. The timbre of his voice caught the lift of the wind, which carried it across the hushed landscape. I imagined those words—I couldn’t hear them clearly from where I was sitting—trailing down the slope, off the cliffs, and into the sea, fading and fading until they were no more. The sound, and the echo, gone—the things we lost to the sea.
The man stood for several moments longer, then turned to walk down a path. I waited in the growing dark, watching him leave, holding back something beating wildly inside me that had wanted to chase after him, to tap him on the shoulder, to make him stay. I held back—it was enough to have this longing, it had to be enough.
When he finally disappeared behind the bushes, I stood up and slowly began to make my way down the hilltop, heading towards the lights of the town, from where I had come.
29
AI LING
Through the thin veil of sleep, Ai Ling heard the faint chirping of birds coming from outside the hotel room. She got quietly out of bed, not wanting to wake Wei Xiang up, who was murmuring in his sleep. She leant over to plant a kiss on his shoulder. Peeking through the half-drawn curtains, she accidentally scared the birds on the window ledge into flight. Standing where she was, she could catch a sliver of the sea. She inhaled deeply; the day was still brimming with newness. She glanced over at the bed, at the sleeping figure of Wei Xiang. She would wake him up later for breakfast, after her run.
Slipping into the toilet, Ai Ling brushed her teeth and doused her face with cold water. She noted that the lines around her eyes had deepened, and the freckles on her cheeks seemed darker after a day under the sun. What did you expect? You’re not getting any younger, she chided herself. She put on some moisturiser and sunblock, and tied her hair up in a ponytail. Back in the room, she changed into a T-shirt and running shorts. Wei Xiang’s dream talk was getting louder now, though Ai Ling could not make out his garbled speech. She made a mental note to check with Wei Xiang about his dream later. Unlike Ai Ling, Wei Xiang could always remember his dreams, able to narrate them with so much detail that it felt like something that had actually happened to him, instead of something culled from the hidden catacombs of his mind. She placed her hand on his arm and kissed his damp forehead, breathing in the muskiness of his sleeping body. She loved this particular smell of Wei Xiang, which had never failed to trigger a physical longing. Her touch promptly calmed Wei Xiang down, his words turning to soft grunts.
Picking up the room key from the bedside table, Ai Ling took another glance at Wei Xiang before leaving. A short run to the beach; she aimed to be back at the hotel before 8.30am, before everyone was up.
They had walked to the beach from the restaurant the night before, after bidding good night to Cody and Chee Seng, who had wanted to return to the hotel to rest before heading out later to check out the bars and dance clubs along Bangla Road. Since it was still early, Wei Xiang suggested a stroll to enjoy the evening breeze. Walking with no destination in mind, they came to a quiet stretch of Patong Beach.
“The moon is hanging really low tonight,” Wei Xiang said, nodding towards the sea, where the moon was hovering above the dark sweep of the water. Ai Ling dug her toes into the warm sand, the trapped heat engulfing her feet. Wei Xiang, with his arm around Ai Ling’s shoulders, pulled her closer to him.
“Are you okay? You seem distracted,” Wei Xiang said. Ai Ling broke away and walked to the edge of the water.
“I’m okay. Just tired, after all the rushing about the whole day,” Ai Ling replied. Wei Xiang trailed behind, giving her the space he could sense she wanted. Ai Ling stared up at the moon, feeling the tension slowly easing out of her.
“You want to head back to the hotel now? To rest early?” Wei Xiang asked.
“No, I want to stay here for a while,” Ai Ling said.
“Sure, as long as you want.”
“Don’t you like the sea at night?”
“I do. The sound of the waves is very calming. I could stay here and fall asleep to the sound.”
“Do you want to?”
“What?”
“Stay here and sleep on the beach?”
“No, I’m just saying. I don’t think that would be safe. Who knows what could happen? We might get robbed.”
“Worse, we might get swept up by the waves and cast out into the sea while we sleep.”
“Yeah, right. Cast out into the sea.”
Ai Ling chuckled and reached for Wei Xiang. They walked farther down the beach, passing other couples lying on the sand or hidden in the shadows, dark moving silhouettes. They nearly tripped over a pair of lovers; the woman let out a cry of annoyance. They apologised and walked away quickly, suppressing their laughter.
“Come on, let’s do it here,” Wei Xiang said, slipping his arm around Ai Ling’s waist, pushing into her for a kiss.
“No, let me go,” Ai Ling said, shaking him off.
“Come on, we’ll be making love under the moon. So romantic.”
“No, it’s not! Silly man.”
Ai Ling laughed and skipped across the warm sand. Wei Xiang caught up with her and they walked on. The lights and sounds from the bars, cafes and ice-cream shops near the beachfront had faded away, leaving them in near-absolute silence and darkness, except for the waves and the bright moonlight that made the sand glow with a bluish luminescence. Ai Ling looked around her and, for an instant, felt the sharp thrill of solitude, of being separated from everyone else. She relished this sensation much deeper than she expected.
“It’s really dark here. Perhaps we should head back,” Wei Xiang said.
“No, it’s good here. Let’s stay for a while more.”
They came face to face with a jagged wall of rocks and Ai Ling began to climb it, without checking first with Wei Xiang, who followed. They found a spot among the rocks, overlooking a small inlet that was surrounded by huge boulders and jutting rock formations. Slightly out of breath from the climb, they sat and looked out into the sea. For some time, they were deep in their own thoughts, not speaking. The night heaved around them, holding them still.
The longtail boats anchored a short distance away from the shore were bobbing in the gentle waves. Shading her eyes from the sunlight, Ai Ling peered out to the horizon where the sky dissolved into the sea, into a deeper shade of blue. She fixed her gaze at the dividing line, which seemed so infinite, so far away.
Already there was a small crowd of people on the beach. Young parents with toddlers playing near the water; a few old men casting their fishing rods from the breakwater, handmade cigarettes dangling from their mouths; morning joggers, flushed from the exertion of running on sand. The food hawkers had already set up their stalls along the pavement beside the beach, the smell of frying oil carried into Ai Ling’s nose. She felt nausea rise up her throat and suppressed the urge to throw up; her morning sickness was worsening. Removing her shoes, she stepped onto the cool sand of the beach. The receding tide had smoothed out the surface, leaving behind dark trails of seaweed and crushed seashells. Ai Ling picked up the carcass of a tiny crab and examined its exoskeleton. A distant cry of a child broke her concentration; a small Caucasian boy was sitting at the edge of the water, stricken at being overcome by the waves. A young woman ran towards him, extending her arms, laughing.
Ai Ling walked into the surf. Her first contact with the cold water sent a chilling pulse of electricity up her spine. She sank her feet into the wet sand; the waves pulled away for a moment before sweeping over her feet again. She stood stock-still, enjoying the pleasure of the water and the alternating exposure to the cool air. She lifted her head to the sun.
She should have told Wei Xiang about the pregnancy last night when she’d had the chance. Yet her old fears had held her back. She was after all still in the early stages, only six weeks along. She had grown suspicious after a spate of vomiting in the mornings; the doctor later confirmed the fac
t. She knew she would have to keep the news to herself for the time being, until… until when? She did not know. After the last miscarriage, she had become more fearful of the way life could take away indiscriminately. There would certainly be, she knew, another chance to tell Wei Xiang. She had to be patient and wait out her anxiety.
The wavelets chugged at her feet, stronger and more pressing now. The sea birds, which had been resting on the wooden poles impaled along the shoreline, had taken to the sky and were wheeling in the air, their screeching loud and maddening. Ai Ling looked up at them, specks of darkness against the bright sunlight. The wind had picked up as well, tousling Ai Ling’s hair and sweeping it across her face.
Yes, it was the right thing to do for now, keeping the pregnancy from Wei Xiang, Ai Ling assured herself one more time before taking another step into the sea, the water coming up to her calves.
The tide drew in and they could hear the splash of the waves against the rocks. Wei Xiang and Ai Ling sat on the sandy ground, leaning against each other. Ai Ling could feel the warmth emanating from his body and wrapped her hands around him, nestling in the heat. Wei Xiang turned to smile at her, his face half in shadow. Ai Ling caught a flash of moonlight in his eyes—alert, watchful.
“You have been so quiet these days,” Wei Xiang said.
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are. It’s like you’re thinking so many things. Care to share some with me?”
“No, I’m not thinking about anything.”
Wei Xiang pressed against her, and Ai Ling’s body tensed up. “You’re really cold,” he said. “Why don’t we head back to the hotel? You can have a hot shower.”
“Sure. But let’s sit for a while more. Then we’ll head back.”
Looking out into the black mass of the sea, Ai Ling pictured her thoughts slipping out of her mind and joining the darkness around them, seeping into the night. If she were to give up her thoughts now, would her mind be lighter, carrying nothing? She had always felt much freer in the dark where she could entertain any thoughts or memories that crossed her mind, without feeling hounded or burdened by them, as if their hold over her were greatly weakened in a different state. She felt almost at peace. At this moment, sitting here with Wei Xiang, a sense of calmness welled up inside Ai Ling, a brief, transient state—she was aware of its fleeting nature—that could be broken at any time. She held firm to the fragile moment.
“Wei Xiang, you know I love you, right?” Ai Ling looked into the night sky, hesitant to face him.
“Of course I know. Why would you say that? Okay, now I’m officially worried. What’s going on in that head of yours? Come on, tell me.”
Ai Ling laughed softly, the sound fading into the night.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sure? You very sure?”
“Yes, nothing’s wrong.”
Standing in the water, Ai Ling stretched her toes and dug her heels into the sand. Craning her face upwards, she closed her eyes, feeling the warm morning sunlight on her skin. The balm of the water and the light felt restorative. She had always loved the sea. When she was eight years old, her parents brought her to East Coast Park for the first time. The noisy rush of the waves as they crashed onto the shore, the broken seashells that lay half-embedded in the wet sand, her headlong dash into the water, the current of fizzy bubbles that moved along the entire length of her body, down her back to her feet. How she had gasped for air, bursting through the surface of the water, yelling for her parents, wanting them to see the great feat she was performing, fighting against the waves and breaking their advance with her might, with the will and strength of her body. Her parents had cheered and clapped, and told her to come back to the shore and not to venture too far. Ai Ling had defied them—she had taken some swimming lessons in school and knew she was a strong swimmer, her swimming coach had told her—and held her head down in the water. Counting the long seconds and fighting the resistance of her body, she finally leapt up and threw her arms into the air, flinging arcs of water from her extended hands. Looking towards the shore, Ai Ling had noticed that her mother was standing so close to the water that the front of her shoes had got wet, a flash of relief breaking across her face. Ai Ling could still remember the calls of her mother then, to come back.
From the chamber of her thoughts, Ai Ling heard an indistinct shout coming from behind her. Glancing back, it took her less than a second to register a young boy standing at the tide line, trying to get her attention, waving his arms and pointing at the horizon. Ai Ling turned to where he was indicating. Far out in the distance, a high wall of water had appeared, quivering like a mirage, dissolving the boundary between the sea and the sky, gaining in height and moving in fast.
Ai Ling tripped over her own feet and fell into the water. She could hear a piercing scream coming from somewhere behind her. She regained her footing and started to run.
When they got back to their hotel room, they sat on the balcony watching the night sky. From the small bag of drinks they had bought at the convenience store next to the hotel, Wei Xiang popped a can of Singha beer and started to drink. The murmur of street sounds rose up to where they were sitting: soft bursts of voices and laughter, the occasional honking of cars, and the deep, almost subterranean beats of music coming from the nearby bars, thumping like a heart under the skin of the night.
When Ai Ling got up to go to bed, Wei Xiang followed. He reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. Shadows stretched long on the ceiling and walls, moving like dark creatures in the slanted blocks of moonlight. When Wei Xiang touched her collarbone with his fingers, Ai Ling felt every part of her rushing to meet the point of contact, her nerves electrified, awakened by a rabid yearning that reached deep into her core, stirring her alive. Wei Xiang traced his fingers down the valley between her breasts and stroked her nipples. Closing her eyes, Ai Ling imagined her body changing into something that was a different version of herself—better, fuller, wilder—and in this new self, she lost all her usual senses. Yet she was not anxious or frightened or fearful; she was beyond all these, floating at the brink of her existence, transformed.
When Wei Xiang entered her, Ai Ling gasped. She held his face close, his breaths landing on her neck, down her shoulders, into her mouth. When she came, she gave in to a dark place that was a void and a death, and in that moment of nothingness, she burnt bright, all aglow.
“I worry about you sometimes. I don’t know what you’re thinking and it scares me.” Wei Xiang had lain down beside her afterwards, and in the dim light, Ai Ling could see his chest rising and falling. She put her hand over his heart, to calm him.
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t. I’m here.”
Wei Xiang held Ai Ling’s hand in the dark, squeezing it. Ai Ling breathed in deeply and settled into herself. The night drew itself around them, and they fell into slumber.
Ai Ling barely had time to catch her breath as the boy rushed up to her, grabbing her left hand and tugging her in the direction he wanted to go, to higher ground farther up the beach. Closeup, Ai Ling saw the panic in the boy’s eyes, full of warning. He muttered something without pausing, the rush of heated words escaping from his mouth, incomprehensible to Ai Ling.
“Where?” Ai Ling said. The boy looked confused, his eyebrows hitched up with uncertainty. “I need to get back to my husband.”
Ignoring her words, the boy leant backward and tried to yank Ai Ling away. She shook off his hand, taking a few steps back. The wind had whipped up to a deafening speed, howling in her ears. Shrill, frantic birdcalls chorused madly around them. From somewhere, another shout of alarm.
“No, I need to get back to him.”
The boy dropped his arms to his sides and stared at Ai Ling. For a brief moment, Ai Ling felt as if they were looking at each other through a distorted glass, across a span of shared history.
The boy turned and sprinted up the beach.
Before
Ai Ling could utter another word or form a single thought, the huge wave swept onto shore and lifted her into its embrace, carrying her as far as it could, into the heart of the island, before drawing her back into its depths.
The sun dips slowly into the sea, turning the water vermillion, as darkness creeps its way across the tiny island. The wispy tufts of dry grass shiver in the light breeze, bracing themselves for the night. All is calm. The woman remains perfectly still.
The boy steps out of the water and walks up to the woman on the beach. Water drips from the boy’s body onto her back, dotting her shirt with dark splotches. He squats down and puts a hand on the woman’s hair, brushing it gently with his fingers, straightening out the kinks, freeing the tangled ends. He wipes the crusted trails of dried blood from the corners of her mouth, and fills the empty eye socket with sand. Then he places his right hand on her bulging stomach and holds it there, fingers splayed.
Closing his eyes, he listens to the world of sounds coming from inside the woman’s husk of a body. He listens, and beyond the skin and blood and flesh, he finally hears her. He clenches his hand into a fist on the woman’s stomach. He’s here—he will always be here.
And the sea, ever present, surrounding them, raging inside them—teeming, roaring, alive with its own dark appetite.
The boy sits on the sand beside the woman, his body touching hers, and looks out across the water. Together, they regard the silence of the island. The sun—now a sliver—slips below the horizon and disappears into the crepuscular folds of the approaching night.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The life of writing is a long, arduous and solitary one, and impossible without the support and good faith of my family: Pa, Ma, Siew Yen, Harry, Thiam Teck, and Agustiniwati.