Inside the Tiger

by Hayley Lawrence

  I open Tash’s email first:

  RE; Hi from Bel!

  Bel, it’s so good to hear from you!

  Please don’t apologise, I shouldn’t have even been telling you what to do. I’ve felt empty about it ever since you left. Partly, I think I was just down that I wasn’t allowed to go with you and Eli. It would have been so much fun. I should have been happier for you, though.

  Sounds like it’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster with Micah. To be honest, Bel, it doesn’t surprise me. I kinda guessed you had feelings for him. Because I’m your best friend and I KNOW YOU.

  I don’t know what to tell you to do, though. In my head, I know it’s not a healthy thing. He can’t give you what you need. You can’t even kiss him, Bel. Forget having a future with him. Sadly, he doesn’t have one to give you. But it’s not my heart that’s fallen for Micah, and I know hearts don’t always listen to heads.

  Promise me one thing, though. While you’re in Thailand, make sure you enjoy yourself. I’d KILL to be there now, with you and Eli. Soak it all up, take a ton of photos for me so I can feel like I was there.

  How’s Eli? How are you two getting along now that he knows everything? Tell him I said hi too, okay?

  I’d better go. Can’t wait to hear everything when you get back!

  xx Tash xx

  The sun sinks behind the mountains as we join the locals in the village square. The air is filled with incense and every available surface is covered with flowers – whites, pinks, purples and yellows.

  The village square buzzes with people wearing pompom hats. Roadside fires sizzle with kebabs, and tourists crowd around the main stage to watch the silk-weaving dance of the local women. Eli and I watch for a while, mesmerised by the slow, graceful movements of the girls’ hands as they fan yellow silks across the stage.

  At a thatched bar twinkling with fairy lights, we stop for a drink. A large glass bowl sits on the bar, filled with an amber liquid.

  ‘You want sato?’ the bartender says to Eli. ‘Is good.’

  ‘What’s sato?’ I ask.

  ‘A bit like wine,’ Eli says. ‘Rice wine.’ He hands over two hundred baht. The bartender dips a small bucket into the mixture, plonks a couple of straws in it for us, and we head back over to the crowd.

  Along each side of the road, musicians are setting up for the night with mouth organs, xylophones, drums and woodwinds I’ve never seen before. As they begin plucking, gonging and playing, we pull up cane chairs to watch.

  I take a sip of the sato. And scrunch up my nose. The sato is sickly sweet with a strong smell.

  ‘Not impressed?’ Eli says.

  I have a second sip. ‘Maybe it’s an acquired taste.’

  He laughs.

  The full moon is a golden orb rising over the village. The flowers are too bright, the dancers too graceful, the music too ethereal.

  A few satos later and the flower festival is in full swing. Other tourists dance at the base of the stage as the music swirls around us in a chanting beat.

  It feels good to be numb around the edges. Just enough to dull the senses.

  ‘Let’s dance,’ I say, standing up and beckoning to Eli.

  ‘I don’t dance.’

  ‘I’ll teach you. Come on.’ I tug him by the hand and take the sato, having a sip before dumping it on a table.

  He hesitates, then follows me into the crowd of jostling bodies before the stage. The rhythm of the drums pulses through my veins and without conscious thought, without awareness of myself, I close my eyes and allow the music to flow through me.

  I can feel Eli hovering awkwardly behind me. I spin around to face him, beckoning him closer. But he’s serious, watching me, until I pull him forward.

  ‘Come dance with me,’ I yell into his ear. ‘Feel the music!’ He pulls me close, wraps his arms round my waist until we’re not dancing anymore, only swaying.

  ‘Not like that,’ I say, unwrapping his hands from around me and entwining my fingers in his.

  ‘How then?’ he says in my ear. ‘Show me.’

  I grin wickedly at him, dropping his hands. ‘Watch and learn.’

  I shouldn’t be doing this. And what’s worse, I enjoy the attention it wins me. The way his eyes roam the length of my body as I move, the way he can no longer smile.

  Eli reaches out, and catches me by the hand. ‘Everyone’s watching.’

  ‘Let them.’

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I don’t think you should drink any more sato. You’ll have a wicked hangover for the train. Maybe we should go.’

  I pout at him. ‘Why are you always the voice of reason? Come on, let’s have some fun.’

  ‘All right, one more song … then we’re heading. I’m not leaving you here alone, especially not while you’re dancing like that.’

  ‘Dancing like what?’ I yell, letting his hand go and throwing in a twirl for good measure. ‘Does it turn you on?’

  I do my best attempt at eyelash batting, which is terrible.

  ‘Just till the end of the song, okay?’ he says, holding me close and slowing me down, until all I can feel is his body against mine and my cheek against his chest.

  The music stops and it takes him a little while to notice. So we dance through one more song, and I think to myself, I will never forget this night.

  When the next song finishes, Eli says, ‘We’d better go.’

  But he keeps holding me like he doesn’t want to. I don’t want to either. I want to freeze time.

  ‘We won’t make the train in the morning,’ he says.

  We pull apart and he takes me by the hand, pushing through the crowd.

  On the walk home, he keeps hold of my hand as we negotiate the uneven footpath.

  ‘So,’ I say, ‘tell me something, Eli. Did you have any girlfriends while you were on exchange?’

  He doesn’t answer.

  ‘Oooh, Eli had a girlfriend. Was she Thai? Were you in love with her?’

  ‘I was in love with you once,’ Eli mutters.

  ‘What?’ I stop walking, not sure I heard him right. Trying not to sway as I squint at him in the moonlight. ‘You were not.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘When?’ I say sceptically.

  ‘Back when we were fourteen. Come on,’ he tugs my hand. ‘We’ll never get home at this rate.’

  ‘Wait, you mean when we …’ I seem to have forgotten how to walk.

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s going to make things weird.’

  ‘No,’ I say, patting him on the shoulder and leaning against him. ‘Nothing could make us weird, Eli. Because you’ve been to Thailand with me. You’ve, like, gotten me through all the stuff at the prison. You’ve shown me this country you love, and you looked after me when I was sick, and I just think that’s … noble.’

  ‘Noble, huh?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I burst out laughing. ‘Couldn’t think of another word. How very noble of you,’ I say in a posh voice. ‘Mercy is noble and Eli is noble.’

  He goes quiet as we reach the bungalow and unlock it. Stumbling inside, I feel for the light switch and give up when I can’t find it. The room is lit by moonlight anyway.

  ‘Bel, I’ve never seen you so chilled,’ Eli says. ‘It’s kinda unnerving.’

  He brushes past me into the bungalow and strips off his shirt. Loses his shorts and climbs into bed as I shut the door, plunging us into darkness. I peel my dress down and feel for my nightie, only I can’t find it in the dark.

  ‘Man, I won’t miss this mattress,’ he says. ‘It’s so bendy in the middle.’

  I’m still standing by the edge of the bed, wondering what it would be like to do more than just sleep next to Eli tonight.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he says.

  I slide into bed in my underwear. I shuffle across to his side a bit more, but he’s turned away from me, so I press against his back, my bare arm sliding over his chest.

  ‘Thanks for everything,’ I say.
r />   ‘No problem.’ He tucks his arm over mine.

  ‘Eli?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  He rolls onto his back.

  ‘Do you ever think about that kiss?’ I say.

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘I think we’d be better at it now.’

  His heart picks up under my hand.

  I prop myself up on one elbow and reach for his face through the darkness. My lips move across his stubbly chin until I find his mouth. There’s no denying it now. He’s not a brother to me – never has been.

  He slides me on top of him, and runs his hands down the length of my back, all the way to my undies. If I let him, what would he do? What would that be like? What would it be like with Eli?

  His kisses are hungrier than that awkward fumble when we were fourteen. The Eli of my childhood is gone forever. His hands travel to my stomach and I lift away from him so that he can feel his way up my body. He touches me gently, then moves past my ribs to the back of my bra. His breathing is fast as he battles with the clips. He gets it off and rolls us over so he’s on top, hands roaming freely over my breasts. He presses himself hard against me, pulling both my legs around his waist.

  My heart races with the knowledge of what we could do. Should we stop?

  His kisses move from my mouth, down to my chin, until he’s sucking my neck, pressing himself against me until I gasp. He kisses first one of my breasts and then the other.

  You only get one shot at losing your virginity.

  Is this how I want it to be?

  Eli seems to know what he’s doing, and it suddenly occurs to me that I know nothing of his experience after our first kiss. I’ve kissed two boys since. There was some touching, but nothing like this.

  I pull away for a second.

  He hesitates, his breathing heavy in the dark. ‘What?’

  ‘Have you … have you ever done this before?’

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Have you?’

  ‘No.’

  My heart’s going so loud, I swear I’ll have a heart attack. It’s one of the unforgettable moments.

  ‘Let’s be each other’s first, then,’ he whispers. ‘You want to?’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘No,’ he breathes into my neck, collapsing against me. ‘We can’t … I wasn’t expecting … but soon, okay? When it’s right. I want it to be with you.’

  And when he says it like that, I feel like he expects us to be something later. Something more than we’ve been before. Something permanent. It’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

  This isn’t just fun for me either. Eli’s not a guy you play around with. He’s the kind of guy that gives you everything. So if he wants that, if he wants to give me his virginity and take mine, then I have to be willing to give him all of myself. Hold nothing back.

  I think of Micah. Micah who haunts my dreams. Micah who has half of my heart. And Eli who holds the other half. Who’s part of me. Who knows me better than I know myself, the only one who can fix me when I’m broken.

  I don’t want to mess this up. Feel like maybe I already have messed it up by crossing the line with Eli tonight.

  I reach for his face with my hands.

  ‘I’ll always love you, Eli.’

  I kiss him on the lips.

  He flips over onto his back on the bed, and I hug into him, his arm around me.

  ‘You didn’t say yes,’ he says.

  ‘I didn’t say no.’

  ‘Have you got feelings for … Micah? You can tell me if you do.’

  He’s trying to be brave, but his heart thuds hard when he says it.

  I don’t want to promise him anything if I’m not sure, so I say, ‘This is about us. About not wrecking what we’ve got. I love you too much to do that.’

  His arm tightens around me.

  The train rattles and shakes its way down the mountain, heading for the neon city of Bangkok. It feels as reluctant as me to arrive. The sato last night was a very bad move. My head is throbbing, and I’m sick and shaky.

  I feel awful, but I’m not sure it’s just because of the hangover.

  All morning, Eli’s been different, smiling a lot, shy with me. We haven’t discussed last night. It’s like a secret neither of us can talk about. I feel a pang deep in my stomach, like I’ve done something chronically wrong. Like I’ve betrayed someone, but who? Micah? Yes, I’ve betrayed the guy I have feelings for. The one I’ve spilled my soul to, but he doesn’t know that yet. And I’ve betrayed Eli too. I’ve given him hope for a future I’m not sure belongs to us.

  Eli said he was in love with me once, and he kissed me like he meant it. When I kissed him back, did I mean it? My head spins. After last night, Eli will expect me to cut Micah off, but every rattle of the train brings us closer to Bangkok. Closer to Micah. He’s like an addiction. I ache at the thought of never getting another letter, not knowing what’s going on in his world. Losing him, just like I will if they kill him.

  I have one chance before I leave Thailand to see him again. But the idea of walking back through those prison gates turns my insides to liquid. Back past the machine guns and the barbed wire.

  He didn’t actually lie to me about what he did – I told him he didn’t have to tell me. And it wasn’t like he wanted to smuggle drugs. He felt he had no choice, and in some ways he didn’t. But none of that changes what he did. Those drugs would have hit the street. Someone would have OD’d, someone else would have stolen something to get a hit, someone else would have neglected their kid or sold their body. Someone else’s mother might have been killed by an addict on a high.

  Dad says there’s always a choice, but how easy is it to say that from his padded seat in Parliament House, with a hefty pay cheque flooding his account? What would Dad have done if someone was holding a gun to my head for a debt and he was broke? Micah didn’t want to get tangled up with drugs. Can I really blame him?

  And can I cut him off because what he did hurts me? Or am I just running scared because I feel too much for him? Because it was too hard seeing him trapped in there?

  I do love him. If someone I love is in need, can I really walk away?

  I draw a shaky breath. I have to visit him again.

  We’re nearing Bangkok when Eli stirs on the sleeper berth across from me. He opens one eye and squints.

  ‘Where are we?’ he says.

  ‘Coming up to Don Muang.’

  Eli’s not going to be leaping with joy about my decision, so best to come out with it.

  ‘I’ve decided to go back to Bang Kwang tomorrow,’ I say.

  Eli shakes his head and looks away from me.

  ‘I can’t cut him off,’ I say. ‘I need to see him.’

  He says nothing till the train doors open at Don Muang.

  ‘Fine. We’ll go,’ he says coldly.

  ‘Actually … I’ve decided to go by myself this time.’

  Eli looks at me with disgust. ‘You don’t want me there.’

  ‘I just need to do this on my own. I think having two of us there put him off maybe –’

  ‘Because it gave him the wrong idea? That we were shacking up or something?’

  ‘Eli, come on. It’s not like that.’

  Eli raises his eyebrows in a challenge.

  ‘Okay, yes, it was like that last time. But this is my last chance to visit him. It’s like you said, if I don’t go, I might regret it for the rest of my life.’

  The train rumbles on in silence for the next twenty minutes or so, with Eli flopped back against his mattress.

  Finally he says, ‘At least let me take you to Bang Kwang. I’ll wait outside.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I want to.’

  The idea of him waiting out the front fills me with dread, rather than relief. Like he’s pressuring me to end it once and for all.

  I stand before the tall iron bars of the white entrance. Glance back at Eli paying the taxi driver, then put my head down and forge through with the sma
ll crowd of visitors.

  A different guard escorts me to the visiting area in the quadrangle today, and he doesn’t make small talk. I can’t feign a smile, so I focus on avoiding the trail of herbal tobacco smoke he leaves in his wake as I plant one trembling leg after another. My hands are sweaty, even after wiping them against my pants a million times.

  The groundsman sweeps dirt from the quadrangle, and the smeary glass of the partition between Micah’s world and mine mocks me as I sit down to wait.

  I listen to the methodical swishing of the groundsman’s broom against the asphalt, seeking comfort in its predictable rhythm, but there is none. I wish I could have brought something in to keep my hands busy. A bottle of water, a label to pick at. My mouth is dry, but I force myself to think of other things. Pleasant things. Like our last night in Chiang Rai. The dancing, the lights, the flowers, Eli’s lips on mine –

  It’s him. First one out.

  My heart thuds up to my throat, and I gulp it down. I wriggle forward on my seat and reach for the receiver. Hope to God Micah can’t see how hard my hands are shaking.

  Micah’s smiling shyly as he picks up the phone.

  ‘Wasn’t sure you’d be back,’ he says.

  I’d forgotten how he sounds. The huskiness of his voice.

  ‘Bel, I’m sorry. I shoulda told you the story, all of it. I was scared, hey.’

  ‘Scared?’

  ‘That you’d cut me off. After what happened to you I wouldn’t blame you. But, Bel – fuck – you gotta know I had no choice. I’d do it again tomorrow if I thought it would save Mum.’

  ‘I believe you,’ I say.

  ‘So where you been with that Eli guy?’ he asks.

  ‘We spent a few days in, uh, Chiang Rai.’

  I remember what he said last time about us staying in a resort, swimming together, but he just nods. ‘Your letter came while you were gone. Sorry about how I was, hey. I got jealous when you rocked up with him. You’re just mates but, yeah?’

  I force myself to maintain eye contact, keep my breathing steady, don’t even flicker. Mates is a blurry word. Hell of a lot blurrier after last night.