by Grace, A. E.
“It’s the same thing as when you’re in an airport.
“No man’s land.”
“Yup.”
“So, technically, we have no rights here.”
“Maybe.”
“And there are no laws here.”
“I don’t think it works like that,” Liam said.
“Is the walk long?” Terry asked, before she remembered that she had her guidebook. “Never mind, I’ll check.”
“It’s about two miles, so not long.”
“Oh, good. Because this backpack is starting to get pretty heavy.”
“Over-pack?”
“How dare you!” Terry cried, grinning at him. “But probably, yes.” She reached to the back of her bag and pulled her water bottle out from its slot. She drank nearly half of it in one go. “It’s really hot.”
“Yeah,” Liam agreed, glancing up at the sky. “I’ve been hotter, though. Was once in the desert in central Australia. That was hot.”
“Yeah, but a desert is dry. I feel like I could drink from this air.” Terry wiped her forehead. “I’ve never sweated this much before in my life.” Looking down at herself, she felt a pang of embarrassment at seeing that she had sweated through her top along her belly, and in between her breasts.
“Yeah, you’re pretty sweaty,” Liam said, his voice completely devoid of any humor. She looked up at him. Was that a joke? Was he finally starting to warm up, unstiffen those socializing skills? She watched as he wiped his brow, saw the glisten on his neck and forearms. He actually had really nice forearms. She’d never really been an arm kind of girl before, but she knew a friend who swore up and down that a guy’s arm could be super sexy. She also thought that a guy’s arms could be a deal-breaker, too, which took away from her credibility.
“You don’t sweat much, do you?” She asked it because it was on the same track of conversation they’d been having: perspiration. But it seemed to be a big day for firsts, because it was the first time she’d ever had a conversation with a guy she’d just met – and kind of fancied – about the differences in the activity levels of their sweat glands.
“Not really,” he said, and he offered her a half smile. “Don’t know why. Genetics, I guess.”
“So it must be difficult for you to lose heat?”
“Why are we talking about this?”
“I don’t know,” Terry admitted. She laughed. It had definitely gotten awkward. “So, did you walk the border the last time you came to Vietnam?”
“Yes,” he said. “But things were different then.” He gestured vaguely at the fences. “All this was much less,” but he trailed off, apparently uninterested in finding the word. “So, you just quit your job,” he said, tacking, “and left your home to go backpacking? That’s a pretty big step. Not many people can just do that, leave everything behind.”
“Yeah,” Terry murmured. “Actually, I’ll tell you, I didn’t realize how much stuff I had until I had to pick through it and decide what to take.”
“I don’t have that problem.”
“No, I imagine you don’t. I had this clarinet – I used to play – and it was all losing its coat, and I’d left the reed in there so it had expanded and gotten stuck, and some of the keys were rusting, and, I mean, I’d never given it any thought before. It was always there, in the corner of my bedroom. And I just didn’t want to not take it with me, you know?”
“Not really,” Liam said.
“Ha. Okay. Well, it was weird choosing what to take and what not to. I figured I was going to be gone for the better part of a year, or perhaps more. What I took would be my everyday things, you know. Necessities only. But now, here, walking in this heat, I’m starting to think I probably took too much.”
“I’d say you did,” Liam said. “If you have more than one sweater or jacket in these parts, even in winter time, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Oops. But, you know, a girl’s got to have a selection. What do you do, wear the same pair of jeans and the same t-shirt all the time?” She grinned at him, but doubted it. The jeans fit too well and didn’t look old at all, and his t-shirt was practically tailored for his admittedly rocking bod.
“No,” he said. He looked at her, waiting for her to respond, but had given her nothing to respond to.
“Like I told you before, I needed to get away. I can get rid of stuff easily, anyway. And, besides, you don’t understand my family. I mean, I’ve lived in the same house for most of my life. I never moved out. Neither did my brothers. I don’t know why, we’re all old enough. Part of it was an underpaid job, and, honestly, the only time I tried housemates, I didn’t like it at all. Yeah, it got bad. It was time to leave, see the world. I’ve got savings, so I thought why not?”
“The way you talked about it on the train, it seemed like it was the job that tipped you over.”
“Yeah. Kind of. It was everything, to be honest. Plus, I wanted to see Asia.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just different. It seems somehow more vibrant.”
“There’s definitely more people.”
“There are more interesting noises, and smells, everything, you know?”
“Yup. There’s lots of sadness, too.”
“Vietnam’s history?”
“For starters.”
A silence settled between them, and as they walked along the wide concrete road that connected two neighboring countries, Terry used the opportunity to read more about Hanoi in her guidebook. She had foregone her usual meticulous handling of books and folded the spine over so many times that the book flopped open all on its own.
Hanoi was the first place anybody went if they walked across the border, it being the most logical stop, as it was not only the capital of Vietnam, but one of the biggest cities as well. It was also very close to the border.
“The book says we’ll be getting into a town called Dong Dang.”
“That’s right,” Liam said. He looked over his shoulder, and she mimicked him. The guards were still standing around the hole in the fence.
She continued speaking. “Anyway, we’ll need to take a taxi from Dong Dang. It says here that we’re probably going to be overcharged.”
“Overcharged? That depends on what you expect to pay.”
“Something reasonable, of course,” she said. “That doesn’t bother you?”
“We need to get from one place to another, and unless you want to wait hours and hours for a bus, taxi is the only way. They charge what they charge. There’s nothing ‘over’ about it. So, no, it doesn’t bother me.”
“What, are you secretly a millionaire or something?”
He laughed, and in that moment his whole face brightened up. He looked cute when he laughed, and she noticed that he had one dimple on his left side, low on his cheek. It made him look younger, more boyish, but only for a split second. Then the smile faded, his face straightened, and he looked grave again. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’ve got a million Dong in my pocket.”
“Ha! Me too, actually, in my bag.”
“We’re both millionaires.”
Dong was the local Vietnamese currency, and Terry had stared in disbelief at the stack of filthy bills she had gotten in exchange for one hundred US dollars. She’d never thought she’d be carrying around a million in any currency before.
“Oh my God.” The unmarked taxi drove away after depositing them in what she had read was the center of Hanoi. The wide one-way road beside her was filled with people on mopeds, mostly two or three to a single vehicle. Stacked shoulder to shoulder, handlebar to handlebar, across the entire width of tarmac, there seemed to be little, if any, semblance of order.
“How the hell are we going to cross?” She looked up and down the road, but didn’t see any formal crossing or traffic lights.
“Easy,” Liam said. He grabbed her hand and yanked her out into the road behind him, each of his strides two of hers.
“Wait!” Terry shrieked, pulling back, but his grip w
as too strong, and he didn’t let her hand go.
“Look,” he said. She did. The mopeds were making their way around the two of them. “You just walk into the street. Everyone does it. Nobody wants to hit you. Come on.”
“Okay,” Terry mumbled, feeling mildly embarrassed about reacting so strongly. She walked with him, and watched as all of the motos made their way around them. It was as though the two of them had a force field or aura that was deflecting all the traffic. They had a little island of road that moved with their feet. Nobody was beeping angrily, or shouting at them. She looked at the sea of heads without helmets and saw that nobody was even really looking at them!
A surge of adrenaline seared her senses, and she laughed without knowing why. When they got to the other side, Liam let go of her hand.
“That was fun.”
He knitted his brow at her. “You must have had a boring life.”
“Well, I’ve never walked out into a stream of traffic before, that’s for sure.”
She stretched her fingers. There was a residual feeling left, no doubt psychological, on her hand. Her heart had not just quickened because she’d bucked her survival instinct, but because he’d taken her hand into his, and it was stirring.
“That was some scream,” he said, grinning at her.
“Shut up!” she replied, swinging at his shoulder. She hit him open-palmed, feeling his hard muscle beneath his t-shirt. The brief touch was again charged; it was like an emotional static shock.
The two stood on street, just outside a small restaurant. “So,” she murmured.
“Where are you staying?”
“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Really?” Liam asked. He looked surprised. “I figured you would have had it organized ahead of time.”
“I thought about it, but decided not to. Going to wing it instead. Where are you staying?”
“Same guest house I stayed at last time. I’ll show you.”
“No, it’s-” Terry began, before stopping herself. She was planning on going to the tourist center and asking there, but why not stay in the same guest house as Liam? At least, she could check it out. “Actually, you know what? Why not? Show me, and I’ll see if it’s up to scratch.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, like if it’s clean enough. What’s the name of the guest house?” He had set off, and she was following a little way behind, looking at the signs on all the buildings they passed. Most of the signboards contained both English letters and Vietnamese script.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so you’ll just have to read it yourself.”
“Why? What is it called?”
He told her, and Terry blinked. “Lucky Fuck Guest House?” she repeated. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Liam said, smirking. “I am.”
“It’s really called that.”
“I wouldn’t lie about it.”
“Must be one of those lost in translation things,” she murmured. “You’re not taking me to a sex hotel, are you?”
“Nope. They charge by the night, not the hour. At least, they did when I was last here.”
“You’d better not be taking me to a sex hotel,” Terry said, shaking her head. “Because I’m not having sex with you.” The last bit had just slipped out, and she fought the instinct to put her hand over her mouth.
Shit, she thought.
“That’s alright,” he said, “because it’s not what you think. We’re here.” He walked down an alley, and turned and pointed up at something. Terry followed down, saw a narrow building, six or seven floors high. She followed his finger, saw the name on the sign: Lucky Phuc Guest House.
She laughed. “The Vietnamese word.”
“Yup. It means happiness.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked the owner the last time I stayed here.”
“Think it’s still the same one?”
“No,” he said. His expression changed. It was like somebody had tied an anchor to his mood and dropped it in the ocean.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“It’s not the same owner.”
“How can you tell?”
He looked at her but didn’t reply. Then he opened the door for her and she stepped through, seeing a small reception area with an older woman behind the desk. “Not the same,” he said. He walked behind her.
“Hi!” Terry said, smiling at the woman.
“Want a room?” the woman asked in accented English.
“Uh,” Terry said, looking at Liam and then back at the woman. “Two rooms.” She held up two fingers.
“Okay. Twenty five per night.”
“That sounds fine,” Terry replied, putting down her backpack to find one of her various money pouches she had concealed on her body and in compartments in her backpack. “She means American dollars, right?”
“Yeah,” Liam said. He pulled out a wad of notes from the pocket of his jeans and handed her three tens and a twenty.
“You’re not paying for my room,” she said, shaking her head.
“I know,” he replied. “It’s one night deposit.”
“Oh,” Terry said, chewing on sole. “I knew that.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Yes I did.” She found a fifty and handed it to the woman along with Liam’s.
“No fifty notes,” the woman said immediately, and promptly handed it back to her.
“Okay, okay.” Terry found change and gave it to the woman, who picked up two keys from the table.
“Floor five, two of you.”
“Neighbors!”
“Yeah,” Liam said.
She looked at the narrow flight of steps, and then contemplated having to carry her backpack up five of them. She looked at Liam, who watched her.
“Well?” he asked. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah.” It was like he was daring her to ask him for help. She bent down, hoisted her backpack off the ground with a grunt, and put it on, securing all the straps around her chest. She didn’t want the thing wobbling left and right as she took the steps.
Liam set off up the steps first, leaving Terry and the receptionist alone. “And they say chivalry isn’t dead.” The woman looked up, met Terry’s eyes, and then looked back down at the magazine she was reading. “My thoughts exactly,” Terry said to herself, starting up the steps.
The rooms themselves weren’t bad at all. With air-conditioning, a double bed, a hairdryer (which she noted with surprised relief), a ceiling fan, a desk, and a balcony with two chairs on it, hers was actually quite nice. Everything appeared to be quite aged, and a lot of the furniture smelled old. Terry simply decided to consider it character.
She set her backpack down, heard the impact of her empty metal water bottle clanging on the tiled floor. Liam’s room was opposite hers, and his door was still open, so she peeked into it, seeing that it was far less nice.
“Your room sucks,” she said.
He looked around, a blank look on his face. “It’s fine. Bed, bathroom, table.” He turned around in his smaller room. “Air-con, even. Small fan here.” He put his hand on top of the little fan. “Why, what’s your room like?”
“Come,” she said, jerking her head toward her room. He followed her into it, and stared at her balcony.
“You’ve got a balcony.”
“Sure have.”
“We’re paying the same?”
“I thought you knew the owner.”
“Maybe you just got the keys mixed up.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come over and use my balcony during the day if you like,” Terry said.
“Thanks.”
Terry watched him as he looked around her room. He was standing by the door, only a foot or two in. “So,” she said. It was starting to get dark, and she’d have to think about dinner soon. She was about to bring it up when Liam spoke.
; “I’ve got some things to do tomorrow, so I’ll be setting out early.”
“Oh, yeah?” Terry felt a bit disappointed, but she supposed she didn’t really expect that the two were going to holiday together.
“Yeah. So, it’s been nice meeting you.”
“Yeah,” Terry replied, nodding. She swallowed. This was it?
Liam looked at her for a moment more, and then he turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said. She didn’t want to let him go just like this. She didn’t really see a reason why they should just stop seeing each other. At the very least, she decided she would try and push for them to eat dinner together.
“What about food?” she asked. God, that was clumsy, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m not really hungry. I think I’m going to crash.”
“Oh, yeah, me too.”
He looked at her, as though he wanted to say something. She was desperately hoping that he would, but he didn’t. He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Terry flopped onto her bed, rubbing her forehead. She had no idea what had just happened, but she did know that she wasn’t thrilled about it.
Despite being hungry, she fell asleep, only to wake with a dry mouth and a groan at nearly two in the morning. Her first night in Hanoi was now over. She showered off the day’s stickiness, brushed her teeth, dried her hair, and was asleep again by half past three. Her last thought before drifting into a dream was whether or not Liam was asleep.
Banal and boring, for some reason it mattered.
The city was ringing. All around her were mopeds struggling to negotiate the narrow weaving roads of Hanoi. A few cars, like islands devoid of heads without helmets, were scattered in amongst the throng, occasionally beeping their horns, but being ignored. The sun was beating down, and the air was close, and already, just minutes after leaving her air-conditioned room in the guest house, Terry was sweating. She might have found it annoying if she wasn’t preoccupied with something else.
She shook her head, gazing out at the struggling mass of flesh and metal creeping by on the road. The average speed must have been only twenty, and the people never seemed to stop coming. It might have been amazing to her, or even odd, if she was paying much attention at all.