Chasing Chris Campbell

by Genevieve Gannon

  Babe. I tossed my phone in my bag and flagged down a ride. The Mudhouse was a bar near our rooming house. It had an unsealed wood deck covered in tables and tourists.

  ‘Look who’s here,’ Chris called from his seat when I arrived. I wanted to kiss him hello, but he was cordoned off by chairs and people.

  ‘Busy day?’ I asked, dropping my daypack heavily.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Chris.

  ‘Nah,’ said Noah at exactly this same time.

  I was slightly annoyed Chris didn’t apologise for not waiting for me. Sarah waved at me silently with one hand, while sucking on a cigarette with the other.

  ‘How are you, love?’ she asked, hugging my waist from her seated position.

  They all waved and greeted me. Jeremy had come and so had Lorrie. They sat side by side, Jeremy’s hand resting casually on Lorrie’s knee.

  ‘It’s Lazarus! Back from the dead!’ he said. ‘We weren’t sure you’d make it.’ He began to recount the details of my illness that had been lost in the haze of delirium and dehydration. ‘There were rumours you’d spewed up your spleen, your kidney and some of your teeth.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m better now,’ I said flashing a toothy smile and tapping the enamel to prove it.

  Jeremy sniggered. But I wasn’t paying attention to that. Something horrifying had caught my eye, and it was coming straight for us. She was tall. She had green eyes. Her hair swung and swayed like the silk ribbon rhythmic gymnasts twirl. And she was beautiful.

  ‘Hiya,’ the girl sang, before taking a seat.

  She sat straight-backed and regal. She had long legs and short pants. Tanned skin. Feline eyes that were rimmed with dark black eyeliner. She leaned over and pressed her mouth to Chris’s cheek. I quickly directed my eyes to the floor so nobody would see the storm of anger brewing in them.

  ‘Vy, come sit by me.’ Chris patted a cushion to his left and slung an arm lazily over my shoulder when I sat down.

  ‘This is Briana.’ He indicated the Amazonian supermodel but gave no further explanation. The beautiful girl and I nodded at each other and said hello, but it was clear to everyone, except perhaps Chris, that we wanted to rip each other’s hearts out.

  ‘We’re hungry, yeah?’ Chris asked the group before calling over the waiter. ‘Can we take a look at some menus?’

  Over plates of deep fried prawns and crab, Chris talked about the Củ Chi tunnel network.

  ‘More than two hundred and fifty kilometres of tunnels that the Viet Cong used to outsmart the Americans,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Amazing.’

  ‘I haven’t been yet,’ Briana said. ‘I thought it might be a bit touristy.’ Her voice was haughty and bored.

  ‘No way,’ said Chris. ‘You should definitely go.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll go,’ she said, looking him in the eye.

  ‘I really wanted to see them too,’ I said competitively.

  ‘Big day tomorrow,’ Lorrie said. ‘I can’t wait to move up north.’

  ‘What do you think, Bree?’ Jeremy looked at her.

  ‘Travelling is one thing,’ Briana said, ‘but you don’t really get to know a country unless you live there.’

  Chris nodded along while I stabbed her with eye daggers.

  After dinner people drifted off to bed. Noah was the first to leave, then the Italian pair. The beautiful girl remained obstinately by Chris’s side. At some point Jez and Lorrie snuck off. Soon it was just me and Chris, Briana, and Sarah.

  It was going to be a stand-off. But there was one problem. I crossed my legs and pushed my glass of Coke away.

  ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ I whispered to Sarah.

  ‘Down the back of the neighbouring alley. Ask the guy at the counter for the key.’

  ‘Stay here till I get back, will you?’ I squeezed her shoulder and glared at Briana. Her attention was fixed on Chris.

  I jumped off a set of wooden stairs that led to a side alley. It was lined with garbage and sagging cardboard boxes. There were rats nosing around their soggy bases. They sloshed through the puddles and ducked into holes that I was certain lead to kitchens. Stinging mozzies hovered like miniature drones. I checked my bag for repellent but could only find a near-empty bottle of hand sanitiser. I fished it out and applied it. I ran through the mud, keen to be quick.

  On the way back to the table I watched as Briana kept touching Chris. Nothing too intimate, just a hand on the arm here, a gentle shove of his chest there. When she laughed she’d throw her head back and slide her hand through her hair. It was slinky and flowed through her fingers. I had to get rid of her.

  I collected a bottle of water along with four glasses. I passed them out at the table and filled each one. An eager waiter rushed over, quickly replenished the glasses we’d all taken small sips from, and asked if we wanted anything else.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, consulting the menu. ‘Can we please have a plate of fried spring rolls, and some salt and pepper calamari, thanks.’

  I ordered the saltiest things on offer, then filled Briana’s glass to the very brim. The plan was to send her trekking down that mozzie-ridden path and give me five minutes with Chris.

  Sarah stood up and yawned. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘think I’m going to get some sleep.’

  ‘Don’t forget breakfast at eight,’ said Chris. ‘We’ve got to plan our trip up north.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll bring the maps.’

  The plates of fried food arrived. Chris tucked in. So did Briana. I picked out bits of green from the edges and dropped it onto my plate.

  ‘Aren’t you having any more than that?’ Chris asked.

  ‘You ordered all of this food,’ Briana said accusingly.

  ‘I ate heaps of the prawns,’ I said.

  ‘I love a girl with a big appetite,’ said Chris. Briana took two generous scoopfuls of calamari and heaped them onto her plate.

  ‘I was just so full from the crab I had earlier. I can’t believe I ate the whole thing,’ I said, bragging of my gastrointestinal girth the way a fisherman might boast of his catch. ‘It was this big,’ I held my hands eight inches apart.

  ‘I eat those all the time,’ said Briana as she took a bite from a spring roll. ‘Have you ever eaten sting ray?

  ‘Yes, and eel.’

  ‘What about chicken’s heart?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Have you eaten locusts?’

  ‘Yes. And duck embryo. Dogs?’

  ‘No. Frogs?’

  ‘Dozens of them. Deep fried sparrow?’

  ‘Girls,’ Chris interjected. ‘Yuk.’

  We closed our mouths, chastised. Somewhere speakers were piping out twangy American rock.

  ‘I lived on nothing but rice for a week in India,’ Chris said. Briana and I both sat forward, rapt, as he launched into stories from his last trip. We asked for endless details.

  ‘What was the name of the town again?’

  ‘Tell me more about swimming in the Ganges.’

  ‘Did you visit the Golden Temple of Amritsar?’

  ‘I’d love to go to India,’ Briana said.

  ‘I’ve been,’ I told her smugly.

  Chris yawned loudly, then made a show of stretching, reaching for the sky and yawning again. Neither Briana nor I moved.

  ‘Are you tired?’ she asked him. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I shot back.

  Chris looked at his watch. ‘We’ve got an early start tomorrow.’ He was calling time on tonight’s battle.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ I asked Briana.

  ‘Staying? I live here. I’ve got a little flat near the Rex Hotel.’

  ‘We’re booked into the guesthouse across the way,’ I said triumphant. We were still all seated. Ours was the only table that hadn’t been wiped down and had its chairs upended. The waiters stood around faking patience.

  ‘I guess we’d all better head to bed,’ I said. Briana stayed seated.

  ‘Yeah,’ Chris said.

  ‘See you later then.’ I waved at B
riana, but we both sat determinedly rooted to our chairs. She scowled at me.

  ‘So you’re off to the north tomorrow,’ she said, stalling.

  ‘Yeah. Actually, you reminded me, I have to grab a few things,’ Chris said.

  Briana sprung to her feet. ‘What do you need?’ I stood too.

  ‘Oh, you know, bottled water, more sunscreen.’ He scratched a red bite on his neck. ‘Mozzie repellent.’

  ‘There’s a convenience store right near the Rex. It’s open late and it’s not far from here,’ Briana said.

  Chris looked in the direction she was pointing.

  ‘Isn’t there one right near us?’ I said. ‘I’m sure there is. It’s open late. I’m positive.’

  ‘The one near the Rex is 24-hour,’ Briana countered.

  ‘I think Vy’s right,’ Chris said. I relaxed.

  Briana’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Suit yourself,’ she said and folded her long, lean arms.

  ‘Night, Bree,’ Chris pulled her in for a hug. For that second my heart strained again. But soon he let go and a huffy Briana was walking quickly away from us. Chris raised his eyebrows and we set off home. At the gate he stopped.

  ‘Where did you say that shop was?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah, um … Oh, I think it’s just a block or two away,’ I lied.

  ‘Right.’ He surveyed the streets. Most of the stores had packed up their street displays and shut them behind metal roller doors for the night.

  ‘I’ll just have a wander around.’ The melancholy note had returned to his voice. I watched him go, but mercifully, he walked in the opposite direction to Briana. I saw him reach a patch of light – the late night convenience store I had imagined into existence – then he disappeared inside.

  I trudged upstairs. My room had two large beds, a grotty television, and a window flanked by heavy red curtains. I peered through the glass. The scene before me reminded me of the view from the rooftop restaurant at the Delhi Grand Palace: the dirty backs of buildings, corrugated iron roofs, narrow unsealed roads. Only here everything was racked with a wild, green mould.

  I went into the bathroom, shed my clothes and turned on the hot shower tap until the room was full of steam. I stepped under the stream and scrubbed wearily until my skin was pink. After I towelled myself off I pulled my suitcase apart looking for spare shampoo and hand sanitiser. I found three nearly empty bottles in the bottom of my pack, a half empty bottle in my daypack, and two more bottles with about a quarter left in each in the pockets of various pairs of pants. I uncapped one of them and massaged a squirt into my hands.

  Using the shampoo, I hand washed my bra and knickers, strung my bikini top from the air conditioner on the east wall to the window on the front wall and hung them from that. With each act of cleaning I felt slightly better. When I was finished I set about folding the clothes I’d pulled from my pack and arranging them according to colour. Halfway through, I heard a soft knock on the door.

  ‘Yes,’ I called, expecting one of the girls from downstairs. Earlier she had come in to ensure I was happy, tidying as she asked if I was satisfied with everything: the bed, the television, the view, the shower.

  There was no response. A moment later came another soft knock. I put down the clothes I was sorting and went to the door.

  ‘Yes, I have everything I need,’ I said, opening it. In the dim hallway stood Chris.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ My instinct was something was wrong. He was going to say he was in love with Briana and could I please leave.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said. ‘I didn’t really get to spend any time alone with you tonight.’

  ‘Oh,’ I looked at my feet, now red from the abusive scrubbing I had wrought on them.

  I moved aside to let him in.

  He walked slowly around the room, looking out the window, touching the knobs on the ancient television set. While his back was turned I pulled down my bikini clothes-line and stuffed the wet knickers into my daypack.

  ‘I was feeling lonely,’ he shrugged. He sat on the bed. ‘Maybe I could stay here tonight?’

  ‘Ah …’

  What was happening? This morning he had left for a day sightseeing without me. Now he wanted to come into my room. Amid all my confusion was a strong need for him to touch me again. It was like a faraway train that was suddenly rushing towards me. It bore down with intense noise and velocity. My mind was trying to yell over the noise: ‘Don’t let him think he can just come in here and sleep with you!’

  But my body had seized control and I found myself nodding and saying, ‘Sure, of course, come in.’

  I shifted the piles of clothes from the bed and placed them on the dressing table, next to the television. Chris leaned back against the pillow and used his big toe to remove each sock; his shoes already abandoned somewhere else. I stood by the dressing table and wondered if I was supposed to get into my bed, or his. There was an electric kettle and a box of teabags sitting in a tray by the window.

  ‘Do you want something hot to drink before bed?’ I asked, picking the kettle up.

  ‘Yeah, alright.’

  Grateful for something to do, I filled the kettle in the bathroom sink then stood and watched it boil before making two cups of chamomile tea. I passed one to Chris then sat on the mattress opposite his and cradled my cup.

  He arranged himself on the bed and drank his tea.

  ‘Sit here,’ he said, making space for me.

  I moved towards the bed thinking that if I do this there will be no going back. My heart was pounding so loudly I was scared he would hear it. Chris scooted further so there was a wide space for me. He grinned at me as I climbed in. I looked to him, unsure what to do.

  ‘Night,’ he said, and snuggled under the sheet.

  I woke up confused and groggy. I was cocooned in darkness. And something else. There was a pair of arms around me. Michael? No, he was in Melbourne. There was window with no curtains. Where was I? India? Hong Kong?

  No, Vietnam. And I was with Chris. Why were we spooning? I couldn’t remember. I touched my chest. I was wearing the same T-shirt I’d thrown on after my shower, and thin cotton pyjama pants. I rubbed my head, trying to remember. We must have curled into each other in our sleep. That’s right, we’d lain alongside each other chatting until my eyelids had become heavy and we’d both succumbed to slumber.

  I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and something else in my back. It was digging into me. I realised with a start that he had an erection. It was pressing hard against my tailbone.

  ‘Chris,’ I whispered. His breath was coming out in weak, even puffs. He was asleep, unaware his body was betraying him. My cheeks burned, embarrassed.

  ‘Chris,’ I hissed again.

  It was hot under his arm and I felt simultaneously intrusive and intruded upon. I tried to wrench off his arm but it was like a dead weight. I wriggled, attempting to free myself from his bear-trap hold. But the jiggling just made me more aware of his erection. I poked his chest.

  ‘Chris!’

  I gave him four or five sharp jabs but he slept straight through. I must have fallen asleep again because the next thing I knew it was morning.

  ‘Hi there,’ he said, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Morning,’ I looked at him, my lips pressed together firmly to hold back my laughter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  I felt happy. I had vanquished Briana and we were about to embark on our holiday for real.

  ‘Back in a sec.’ He leaped out of our bed and clambered across the second, unused one, to the bathroom.

  I heard him shower. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Five minutes later he emerged in a burst of steam with a towel wrapped around his waist. I wondered if I could entice him back into bed with me. And if I could somehow gargle before doing it.

  He pulled on his T-shirt and shook his wet head.

  ‘We’re across the road for breakfast,’ he said, pulling his pants to his waist.


  ‘Okay, I’ll just jump in the shower.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll see you there in ten.’

  ‘Oh, you’re not going to wait for me?’

  Chris cocked his head and pulled a face that said, why would I do that? But he answered, ‘I’ll order you something nice. It will be waiting when you get there.’

  It was hard to argue with that.

  I washed as quickly as possible and combed my wet hair behind my ears, trying not to let myself dwell on the fact he didn’t want to wait for me.

  When I arrived at the cafe I was ecstatic to discover Briana wasn’t there. Chris pushed a chair out in the prized position to his right. Shortly after, the waiters brought plates of food. One was placed in front of me: eggs, bacon and sausages.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, looking around. ‘This isn’t mine.’

  ‘Relax,’ said Chris. ‘I ordered it for you.’

  ‘Um. I don’t eat red meat. Or eggs.’

  The waiter didn’t know what to do.

  ‘Oh damn.’ Chris smacked his forehead. ‘I forgot.’

  ‘We’ll share it.’ Noah came to the rescue. ‘I could do with a few extra sausages.’

  Everybody else started eating. The men split my breakfast, puncturing the blackened snags with their forks and transferring them onto their own plates. Sarah scooped up the slippery fried eggs. I waited for my replacement breakfast of mushrooms.

  Chris pulled out a guidebook and a pen and marked a path up the east coast of Vietnam that he wanted to take. From Ho Chi Minh City, the plan was to head north to Nha Trang before finishing in Hue. The ancient city had a palace complex Sarah was desperate to see. It also had an airport, making it an ideal finishing point. It was the marker between the north and south of the country. We all wanted to see Hanoi, but Chris had already hatched a plan to come back and do a trip from the top down in six months’ time.

  ‘If we travelled any further north now we’d be crossing over into the wet season,’ he explained.

  Vietnam is such a long, narrow country its extremities experience the seasons at different times of year. You could spend the morning in a hot and sultry Ho Chi Minh City, then fly north to Hanoi and land in a tropic thunderstorm of their wet season.

  Noah and Jeremy discussed options while I waited for my food. They lay their cutlery on their plates and pushed them away, satisfied.