by Zolbrod, Zoe
After they moved the boxes, Volcheck insisted they come with him to dinner: hamburgers. The fear remained with Robin-it punched at her lungs, and she had trouble breathing-but it settled enough so that her hatred had room, too. She hadn’t eaten ground beef in months, and she felt sick at the second bite; the taste of grease kept rising to her nose. Volcheck ate three burgers. After picking at a back tooth with a finger, he gave Piv the full two hundred dollars owed them without complaint. She wanted to scorn it, but the money fueled her with a moment of confidence. “Where’s Nadja?” Robin had asked. She’d seen no sign of her in the hotel room, no sign of much, just a tenty men’s shirt hanging on the closet door. “She sleeps,” Volcheck said, batting at the air over his plate with the back of his hand, a reflex.
Usually, Robin would pad naked from bathroom to bed, but tonight she wrapped up in a sarong and tucked herself under the sheets before she unpeeled it, dropped it damp to the floor. Piv lay on top of the covers, watching TV, an ashtray balanced on his stomach. The game show host’s Thai sounded ugly to Robin, quacking. She shooed at smoke, then curled fetally sideways, her back to Piv. She lay rigid, not wanting to brush up against the day’s sharp feelings. But then Piv rose, the bed shifted, and her fears crashed down around her: Volcheck was a killer-he had murdered people, she felt sure.
And he looted animal parts. A lesser crime, of course, but such a savage waste of life reflected on her own chance to be safe, find beauty, find happiness. On her chance and Piv’s, too. Robin bristled, ready to flee, ready to pounce if Volcheck thundered up from under the bed with bloody paws extended to bash in their heads.
Piv slipped back into bed, smelling toothpastey. He reached over and stroked her hip, and his attention relaxed her slightly. She thought of the thick, strong three hundred dollars. Maybe Piv knew something she didn’t. He leaned closer and nibbled at her shoulder blade. He reached to cup her drooping breast. She intercepted his hand, brought it up to her mouth to kiss, her grip so tight she could feel his knuckles shift.
She whispered into his fingers, “Is it wrong to kill something that’s endangered ... to take that?”
His other arm came out from under him and cradled her buttock, a compromise. Her weight shifted so that she balanced there, was held aloft by his palm.
“Everything you like, it comes from ground. Silver rings, silkworms. And food, too. Things you need, they come from ground. That’s normal.”
Silver. Silk. “Well, I hope Volcheck doesn’t put us in the ground. Or Nadja.” She wanted to be like Zella, sipping tea in shops while smiling merchants placed jade objects on the silk square they’d spread in front of her. She was so far from that.
“Shh. It’s okay. He has hot heart, but nothing else. He knows nothing.” He squeezed her buttock.
“But these are rare animals. Once they’re gone, they can never come back.”
“Maybe they’re still here, but in some different way. One thing cannot stay the same over time. Never. Nothing stays the same like that.” He untangled his fingers from hers and reached for her breast again.
“But don’t you see? If that can happen to them, it can happen to us—to me. What if it was drugs, and I had gotten arrested in Kuala? I’d be on death row now.” She straightened her body and flipped to her stomach.
“Maybe you want to go and live with one monk in the forest temple. Live in the forest and fight for those things. No killing the tree, the monkey, nothing like that. Ajahn Pongsak. He doesn’t need money. You know him? He’s famous one in Thailand.”
“That’s not what I mean, Piv.”
“He’s good man. Some Thai people love him!”
“Well, I’m all for preserving the forest. But that’s not what I mean.”
“This day is too long. Too long for everybody,” he whispered to her shoulder. Then he rolled on his back.
A few moments later, Robin turned her head toward him. He was asleep, one of his hands resting over his heart and the other above his head as if he were taking a vow. She kissed his cheek and his mouth flicked. What vow would he take? Would she? Instead of a promise, she issued a plea: keep us safe from Volcheck.
In her dream she awakened in the backseat of a car and stepped out into a mosquitoey dawn at the tracks’ clearing. What she had to do was get to school. She had to follow the train tracks if she was ever going to get to school. But her gait couldn’t match the wooden slats of the tracks; her thonged feet fell down into the rocks, her grimy ankles twisted. Mice had died along the rails. Ruffs of purple innards had hardened; flies shot up like geysers when she passed mouse bodies by. The steel tracks glinted weedily straightward. And something vibrated. She lay down and put her ear to the ground and sure enough, something vibrated. She got up and kept walking, because she had to get to school. Thongs slipping, ankles twisting, and the train loomed forward, chugging, quickening, and its whistle rang out and shook her to falling. Her knees cut on rocks. The train’s whistle rang out, and the phone was ringing. She was underneath the train’s blackness, phone ringing. She had to get to school.
Piv jumped when she jumped; the sound wasn’t what woke him.
“Fucking Volcheck,” Robin cursed. She hit the mattress and her arm complained at the sudden movement of blood. Before Piv picked up the phone he scratched, yawned.
“Krup,” he said. “Krup? Hello? Hello? ... Abu! Where you are now?”
Robin heard the low timbre of Abu’s voice barely, but the tone of it changed the room. Late night. Love Train. 108 FM coming in from Jacksonville.
“Yes. Okay. That Russian one! I think your country’s better. When I do some business for you there?” Piv wiped his hand over his face, dry washing it.
“Okay. Then I come to you in Singapore.” His laugh was still sleeping. It came out foggy. He raised himself up and leaned against the headboard.
“NokRobin? She’s going to go there? Okay, sure. I’ll come, too.” His hand stretched across his eyes, fingers and thumb massaging temples.
“Tomorrow’s no problem. But if it’s only one, then it’s my turn.” Robin could see his mouth, hung with his brilliant white smile. She wondered if Abu could see it, too. “She’s awake. No problem. She’s here.” The smile faded when he passed the phone to her. He scanned the floor looking for his cigarettes.
“I apologize, Miss Miatta,” Abu said. “You will be compensated for the last-minute nature of this favor. Once you’re in Singapore, we can discuss amounts.”
“In Singapore?”
“A stop in Malaysia first. Do you have a pen?”
Chapter 13
I don’t understand this: Why does Abu want NokRobin to meet him in Singapore? Why can’t I go? He says she’ll find some suitcase waiting for her with Saisamorn tomorrow, at front desk of this hotel. She must show her passport at the airport when she picks up her ticket. Kuala Lumpur’s the first stop; she spends one night there, then to Singapore.
I have passport, too. One year ago I get that. I have no trip planned; I get it so I’m ready to take opportunity. When NokRobin gives me the phone again I tell Abu, “I have fresh passport, fresh suit, haircut. Why can’t I go to Malaysia and Singapore, too?”
But he wants Miss Miatta. That’s what he calls her: Miss Miatta. He says the time for me will come. For this business now he needs me in Thailand. I tell him good-bye, and I hang up the phone. NokRobin lies cold beside me on the bed. Her skin is hard. Small needles stick out from her. Before Abu wakes us, NokRobin doesn’t want to give me good night kiss, good night cuddle. Now we have to fall asleep again. Again, no kissing.
When it’s morning, then she wants to kiss, be warm, make something. She tells me she doesn’t want to make this trip. “I’m scared, Piv. I didn’t sleep all night. I don’t want to go alone.” She kisses me, puts her leg on me, rubs me somewhere so I don’t get up to take shower. It’s morning, so okay. Easy. We make something. Quick. For one moment, I’m full and sweet with her. But so soon after, she says again, “I’m scared.”
Wh
y’s she scared? This thing’s no problem. No one can smell it, like with some drug. And USA don’t care about this animal, so no one looks for that. I already tell NokRobin this. I got three hundred dollars for this good business, and more money’s coming, but she’s still not happy. She’s still too worried and sad. It’s five steps from bed to shower. In this room, everything’s too close.
“Why you lie down? You must get ready to make this trip,” I say to her when I get done from shower. NokRobin tries to show me her eyes. She puts her eyes everywhere in front of my face-when I put my shirt on, when I light my cigarette. She wants me to be happy, to love her. I don’t know why. I don’t think at this time she loves me. When it’s easy for her, she’ll leave without me, like the other ones do. She’ll leave our plan. Sure.
“Are we still going to take a trip out to see your family, Piv?”
“Sure,” I say. From the floor I pick up the travel case she use for her last trip.
“Should you call your parents and tell them we’re going to come? Abu says I’ll be back in less than a week.”
I lift my chin to her. I open the drawer. “What clothes you pack?”
“Or... I’m sorry. Do they not have a phone? Do you usually just show up?”
“They have phone. Of course. They don’t live on mountain with hill tribe, or under the bridge over Dao Kanong.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I guess it’s just I’ve never seen you call them. I used to have to call my mom every Sunday, or her feelings would get hurt.”
When NokRobin gets out of the bed, she has no clothes on. She bends down naked, looking for her sarong. I want to go get suitcase from Saisamorn—ask him who brought that, when’d they bring it-but she’s naked, so I can’t open the door. I watch her, wait. She complains about the boxes, about some problems with the animals, but Abu chooses her to fly. To get those boxes, to make the deal with Vol, that was the problem. To fly like this, no problem. She tries to wear sarong like the Thai lady, but they never wear it this way, with two ends tied like that. She seems to me like farang now. From this bed now comes the farang smell.
But she looks at me again before I open the door. Her eyes are not blue like the sea at Ko Samui. Not small shined nuts, like the Thai lady. They’re the color of plain water under the cloudy sky—not postcard, not special-but they tell me something. They tell me it’s not her fault that I don’t travel now. She wants me to go with her; it’s true. But she can’t make that happen.
When she leaves, I feel alone. There are some people at Star Hotel, sure. Farang man and woman sit in the lobby, old ones. Their faces are red. Their necks are red, too. Their skin melts down like bags of custard. I think they’re tired of my country. I don’t want to know them. I go back to my room.
In my room I try to read one book, Through a Dark Mirror, but now I don’t remember what happened before, and so I have more difficulty to understand the words. Instead, Bangkok Post, easier to read. I see ad for Trombone Club in there, and I call them. Using the phone is expensive to do; it adds to cost of the room, but it’s Abu’s bill now. I don’t care. Trombone Club tells me Fallow band doesn’t play tonight. Instead it’s RoiSun 5. More like jazz. I heard them before. The sound’s not good. I try to call Chit’s mobile phone, but he doesn’t answer.
I look down and see dirt stains on my suit pants where they come close to the floor. Already I cleaned this suit two times, but there is too much dirt in Bangkok. I need the suit that’s darker color, doesn’t show dirt. That’s what I’ll do today, without NokRobin. I’ll buy that. To go shopping, I wear my suit pants and one black T-shirt and my shoes and my socks.
I stop first in the beauty shop. It’s close, easy to get to—maybe that’s why I stop there. Inside it smells like thick sharp soap. Same smell that I remember from when they cut my hair. The air-con is cool, and the big mirrors make it seem more cool. I don’t know why I think the mirrors are silver color when inside them I can see all the colors. When I can see me.
They like to see me inside that shop. The married ladies hold scissors in their hands above the customers’ heads, and when they see me they smile. They say: Hello, how are you? Last time you come in here, your hair was too long. You like it so much better short that you want us to cut some more already?
The young one, Anchan, she’s there, too. She’s happy to see me, too. She wears the pink shirt with some small horses across the front part. She wears pink belt, white pants, and pink plastic shoes. I think she likes pink color. Her face is very bright. It looks good to me, smiling. But I don’t like her curled hair.
I say to her: You think I need my hair cut more? Your friends say I do. If you think so, please. Please cut it for me.
She shakes her head. She tells me: No. Only small number of days since you cut your hair. You cut on Sunday, I remember. No.
She reaches her finger close to my neck and the piece of hair she sees there. Then she puts both hands to her face. She’s all flower pink. She laughs.
I ask her: You work now? If it’s possible, please, I would like for you to come with me to buy one suit. I need one new suit. After that, maybe we can eat dinner together.
She has to work until five thirty, but the married ones say to her it’s okay, she can go now. No business for her today. She should go.
Traffic is bad. We sit in the meter taxi, and Anchan tells me she wants to buy one Yamaha 120 like her brother’s, but she would pick the bright pink color instead of green.
She wants to buy many other things, too. She tells me what in MBK. For me, I get one suit. Light brown one, dirt won’t show fast. I get new shirt to go with this. For Anchan, I buy two things for her hair: bows and flowers around the rubber band. Two hundred baht each, wow, but she thinks they’re pretty. She puts one in her hair, soft blue one. Then we eat at KFC. She says she likes that taste. We sit by the window in the white restaurant and we eat fry chicken and rice, chocolate custard. Night has come now, but so many lights outside make the sidewalk look very bright. Bright and shiny, like wet rain.
When I see Chit and Wanphen outside the window, I wave and smile. “Chit,” I say. Anchan hears this and looks at me, at Chit. His hair is very long. When his band plays, he lets his hair hang down, but now he wears simple rubber band-no bows on that. He doesn’t hear me say his name, but he sees me; he looks at me, and Wanphen looks, too. Who is this? They don’t know. And then, okay, their faces say yes. They see me now—hello! I think they’re very surprised because my hair is short.
In KFC, I ask them if they ate. I give Chit one cigarette. Wanphen doesn’t smoke, but she wears Levi’s jeans, one black T-shirt saying Who’s the Boss, and some red and white tennis shoes, maybe old ones from America. She knows how to get the Levi’s very cheap. She deals with them, makes some business about that. Her hair is very, very long, and straight. Cool. Pretty. She doesn’t want to talk to Anchan. She’s polite, but still, I know. Anchan’s not cool.
I tell them I make business now. American farang helps me find this one; I get this because I speak English so good. I tell them this business takes me to many countries. To America, sure, I say to Wanphen, but that’s in future.
What company? Anchan wants to know.
Is that why you cut your hair? Chit says. He knows me for four years, my first friend in Bangkok. He comes to Kanchanaburi to meet my family. I meet his family in Khorat. He looks at me now. He looks at Anchan. He says: We’re going to Sandwich Pub now. Bot’s playing with Rhythm Sun, just for tonight, because their bass player cannot. You should come.
So we go. Anchan doesn’t want Singha beer, Mekong whiskey, Johnnie Walker, just, please, some Coke. At first I think she’s afraid of this pub—crowded and loud with rock and roll-but then maybe she likes it. Ott talks to her, makes her laugh. Chit’s old girlfriend, Kathy, talks to her, too. Anchan is surprise that this farang can speak Thai language. She likes to talk to the farang like this.
In Thai, with Anchan listening, Kathy tells me that now Chit comes to visi
t her in the apartment where last year they lived together. If Kathy says the true thing, he makes something with her there, but he won’t stay long after. At Trombone Club, Sandwich, anywhere, he only talks to Wanphen.
Anchan says: You were first wife and now you’re minor wife? Very bad way for the man to behave!
Kathy says: I know it! But I still love him. Piv, why is he doing this? I want to be sweet with him again.
I tell her I don’t know about this thing. He’s sweet with her, but he’s with Wanphen now. I don’t know why.
I take Anchan home in meter taxi. She lives past the Southern Bus Terminal, and the drive is long. Cost is almost two hundred bahtmoney keeps falling out of me today. At her home, I tell her yes, I still stay in Star Hotel, but less than one week from now I leave for business. Before then I will see her again. Of course I will. Sure. In the dark corner, where no one can see, I give her one kiss. Fast one—ssst. Why not? One kiss is nothing.
At Star Hotel, I have the message from Abu that tells me to call him in Singapore when I get back to my room. The time is already past one o’clock when I get back there.
“How are you, Mr. Pivlaierd? How are you doing, man?” Abu does not sound sleepy. “You must have been out at the parties tonight. Of course. You don’t have to tell me. I understand. You deserve some diversion after your hard work yesterday. You conducted yourself smoothly, as I knew you would.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I think it’s okay. In the airport I can be very smooth. So now maybe I can go to Malaysia, Singapore, with my lady friend. I’m lonely when she’s away from me.” I say that so he’ll laugh.
He laughs. “Patience, my friend. We have something big coming up in Florida, in the United States. Wouldn’t you rather wait for that?”
His words make my blood feel exciting. “USA. Wow.” Of course I can wait, if that’s what will come. If he tells me the true thing.