Perfume Therapy

by Kirsty McManus

  “Sorry. I’m here now. Let’s go.”

  We approach the next available agent and hand over our passports. She types something into her computer and frowns.

  “I’m sorry, but it looks like we aren’t able to seat you together on the plane. Is that OK?”

  Mia shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

  I’m not sure whether to be offended or not, but I know I probably caused this by being late, so I don’t say anything.

  I nod.

  The agent loads our large suitcases onto a conveyor belt beside her and wraps a label around each handle.

  “Alright. Here are your boarding passes. You’ll be leaving from gate fifty-three. Boarding will start in just over an hour.”

  “Thank you!” Mia sing-songs. That’s one thing I love about my sister—she doesn’t let anything get her down for long.

  We take our carry-ons and head on through to the first round of security.

  Just over an hour later, we finally board. One of the seats is in an exit row with lots of legroom, so I let Mia take it. It is almost her birthday, after all.

  “See you on the other side, sis,” she says as I make my way further down the aisle, almost to the back.

  I get to my seat and my heart sinks.

  My travel companion for the next nine hours looks up and grimaces.

  “Oh, jeez. What did I do to deserve you?”

  I look despairingly at the man who almost knocked Mia over.

  I sigh. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  TWO

  “Do you think it smells different? I think it smells different.”

  We’re standing outside the arrival gate at Suvarnabhumi Airport and I’m tired and miserable. My eyes are scratchy, my neck has a crick in it, and I worry I’m going to catch a cold from all the coughing I heard from the row in front of me on the plane.

  Mia looks tired, but happy. And she currently has her face tilted upwards, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to wrestle our new baggage cart—which has a disobedient wheel—into submission.

  “The air. It smells tropical somehow. Definitely not like back home.”

  “Where do you get tropical from? All I can smell is exhaust fumes.” And maybe decomposing produce. I shield my eyes from the morning sun. “Come on, let’s go line up at the cab rank.”

  I just want to get to our hotel and lie down. I spent the first half of the flight drinking away my sorrows, and the second half not being able to sleep, because my travel companion was so large that I was literally wedged into an upright position against the window.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Mia says, waving her arms around. “We’re here! And it will be my birthday in exactly…” She looks at her watch. “…seventeen hours. You’d better perk up by then.”

  I drag our cart over to a long queue. Mia follows.

  “I’m sorry, Mia. I know I’m not the best company right now, but unlike you, I wasn’t able to sleep on the plane, and have therefore been awake for almost twenty-four hours. I am also hungover.”

  “Well, the hangover thing is your own fault.”

  “Yes, but the lack of sleep thing is not. Did you not see who I was stuck next to?” Mia had walked by a couple of times on the way to the bathroom and actually laughed at me.

  She dramatically rakes her fingers down her face. “God, are you going to be like this for the whole trip? If so, maybe we should go our separate ways now.”

  I instantly feel guilty. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been nothing but a big baby since we left home. Just give me some time to acclimatise to being here.”

  “You’ll feel better when we get to the hotel. All you need is a shower and a nap. But no more than two hours, or you won’t adjust to the time zone properly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  At this stage, I feel like I could quite easily sleep for the entire two week trip.

  The air is sticky despite the early hour, but I do begin to kind of understand what my sister means about it smelling tropical. And underneath, I can almost feel the buzzing excitement of the busy Asian city. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

  We reach the front of the line, which has moved surprisingly fast, and find ourselves standing in front of a man with a clipboard.

  “Where to?” he asks.

  “What’s the name of our hotel again?” I ask Mia.

  “Uh, the Shangri-La?”

  “Oh, right, of course.”

  The man writes something on a scrap of paper and hands it to us. “Give this to your driver.”

  A minibus pulls up in front, and the driver gets out to help us load our bags. At least this is a proper-sized vehicle for transporting people with luggage.

  Mia climbs in first and I slide into the cool interior beside her. We’ve barely strapped ourselves in when the driver zooms off onto the highway, glancing at our bit of paper. I assume it’s just the name of the hotel, because he nods before shoving it down into a little pocket in the door. We’re going much faster than is legally allowed back home, so I distract myself by focusing on the driver’s dashboard. It is adorned with small Buddha statues and kitschy figurines. A garland of flowers hangs from the rear-view mirror and swings violently as we weave between lanes and overtake slower cars.

  I glance at Mia. She has a huge grin on her face as she drinks in the scenery. My heart softens a little—I’m so glad my baby sister is happy.

  “I love the Thai alphabet,” Mia says, her eyes following a big Coke billboard. “Don’t you think the Thai spelling for Coke looks like the word ‘fan’?”

  We’ve already driven past and I didn’t see it properly, so I shrug. “Sorry. I missed it.”

  “Come on, Chloe! Perk up a little, hey? For me?”

  I paste on a fake grin. “Like this?”

  She nudges me with her shoulder. “You’re such a weirdo sometimes.”

  I start yawning. The long flight has definitely caught up with me. I would do anything to sneak in a few minutes of rest right now, but I’m too worried about the possibility of us crashing at high speed to relax.

  I listen to Mia chatter excitedly about our plans for the next couple of weeks, even though I already know the itinerary. But her attitude is infectious, and a small part of my brain begins to stir in anticipation. We’re travelling mostly on an overhead freeway, which makes the landscape feel very open. The sky is clear blue, and there are tiny, wispy white clouds high up. Combined with the soundtrack of traditional Thai music coming from the radio, I actually start to find my holiday groove.

  Before we know it, we’ve arrived at our hotel. I pay the driver, and a smartly dressed young Thai man takes our luggage for us.

  Because Mia and I didn’t grow up with much, we get pretty excited about anything above a three-star standard. The Shangri-La is clearly five, with its tasteful marble floors and abundance of tropical flowers and plants dotted around the place.

  I let Mia check us in, seeing as she made the reservation. I just paid for my share. It wasn’t as expensive as I expected it to be for somewhere so grand, but then Australia is one of the pricier countries to live in, so most places seem cheap in comparison.

  After Mia collects our room keys, we take the elevator to our floor. Our suite is perfect, with understated décor in red, gold and beige. A small chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and a large glass door at the back opens out to a balcony with a beautiful view of the river. Granted, the water is a bit brown, but it’s still awesome.

  “You want first shower?” Mia asks. I know she’s just being polite. Mia always has to have the first shower.

  “No, you go ahead.”

  She nods gratefully and disappears into the bathroom.

  I throw myself down on the bed and switch on the TV. They have MTV Asia here, so I sit and watch for a few minutes, mesmerised. I love how the film clips are so colourful and happy, and how the bands feature at least five members each. It’s like an A
sian version of the nineties boy band era.

  I have to admit, I really enjoy staying in hotels. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a hotel manager, thinking I could just live onsite in one of their fanciest rooms and chat to all the rich people who passed through. As I got older, I realised it was a bit more involved than that, and I got a sensible office job with nine to five hours instead.

  At least that’s what it’s supposed to be. It’s very rare that my work day finishes before 6pm, and Keith thinks nothing of phoning or emailing after hours if something (actually, make that anything) occurs to him. You would think we were a huge multinational corporation with clients all over the world, but we’re just a small human resources company that specialises in finding staff for Brisbane’s hospitality industry. Keith has horrible time management skills, which is why I always find myself picking up the slack. And Imogen, his PA, isn’t much better. She has been known to schedule a meeting at 2am on a Sunday morning. More than once. I often wonder why Keith feels so comfortable ordering me around, when he almost never does it to Imogen. I’m guessing he realises she’s not great at her job, but is too much of a coward to talk to her about it.

  I look guiltily over at my handbag, knowing my phone inside is still switched off from the flight. I think I might keep it like that at least until I recover from jetlag.

  Mia stays in the shower for ages, and I worry she’s passed out in there. But then a couple of minutes later, she emerges in a cloud of steam with a fluffy towel wrapped around her body.

  “Are you going to have a nap?” she asks.

  “Probably…after my shower. Are you?”

  “Yeah. Just a short one, though.”

  “Cool. I guess we’ll grab some lunch and go exploring after we wake up?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I carry my toiletries bag, nightdress and a change of underwear into the bathroom and switch on the taps in the shower. Mia has left behind a few drops of fancy, coconut-scented bath wash the hotel provided. I pour it into my hand and lather up.

  After scrubbing off the travel grime, I dress, brush my teeth and then climb under the covers, luxuriating in the feel of the soft sheets. There is nothing quite like being able to lie flat and still after travelling for so long. Just before I drift off, I remember to set the bedside alarm clock for two hours’ time.

  Ahh. I think this is the start of what is going to be a really great holiday.

  ***

  The clock goes off at the planned time, but at an almost fire alarm level volume. I spring out of bed, instantly awake, heart beating like crazy, until I realise what’s making the sound. I quickly stab the off button and breathe out.

  Mia hasn’t moved. Apparently not even one hundred decibels will rouse her. I can still see the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps, so I know she’s not dead. I try softly shaking her arm and whispering in her ear, but she rolls over and mutters something about “later”.

  I figure since she’s the one who made the rule about only having a two hour nap, she must understand the consequences of breaking it. I shrug and change into my swimsuit, putting a floaty paisley kaftan over the top. I then write a quick note for Mia, grab one of the room keys and head out to the elevator.

  The hotel building is slightly curved, and the pool area is nestled in a grove of palm trees only a few metres from the edge of the river. I’m absolutely famished, so I find a table and order a club sandwich from one of the staff wandering by.

  This is heaven. In the four years I’ve worked for Keith, I have only had two holidays. The first was a trip to Bali for a friend’s wedding. The island was amazing. But the wedding? Not so much. My high school friend Kelly was marrying a guy I’d never really met properly, because he was always so busy “working”. When I was finally introduced, I got a creepy vibe from him, like he was trying to figure out if he could flirt with me and get away with it. Ugh. Gareth. And all his friends were the same—these sleazy guys who wore polo shirts and tried to outdo each other by bragging about how many women they’d slept with—presumably before they’d settled down with their current partners. I didn’t say anything to Kelly at the time because she seemed so in love with the guy, but it turns out I probably should have. A few months after the honeymoon, it emerged that Gareth already had a wife, and the reason he was always unavailable was because he was with her. Needless to say, Kelly left him.

  That was bad, but the second holiday was actually worse. An old work colleague dragged me along to a cruise, because she’d always wanted to go on one, but she didn’t know anyone who both wanted to go and could afford it at the time. So I agreed, but soon regretted it. Yes, there’s twenty-hour food and entertainment, but did you know that when one person develops a stomach bug on a cruise, the whole population can suffer from it? We ended up having to return to port after two days instead of the planned ten…apparently it was one of the worst outbreaks the cruise line had ever seen.

  My sandwich arrives and I dig in. Yum. The bread is perfectly toasted, the tomatoes taste like they’ve been freshly picked off a vine in Italy, and the bacon is crispy, but not overdone.

  I usually obey the wait-half-an-hour-before-swimming rule, but I really need to unwind, and the pool looks so inviting that I leave my kaftan on the chair and dive into the cool, clear water. Even though I’m surrounded by dozens of tourists who look as if they plan on camping out for the entire day, I pretend I’m here all alone.

  I lazily float around in circles and think about the next few days. Mia’s friends are staying at a backpacker resort near Khaosan Road for the moment. We’re meeting them tonight, so Mia can essentially have two evenings out to celebrate her birthday. On Tuesday, we’ll be checking out of the Shangri-La and travelling down to Pattaya before going to Phuket and then Koh Pha Ngan for one of their infamous full-moon parties. I can’t say I’m looking forward to that last bit, because I’m not a huge party animal, and I suspect there will be lots of drugs—but I can’t really afford to stay on my own anywhere. It’s one thing when you’re young and single like Mia, because an event like that is an opportunity to let yourself go and flirt with boys and get the full experience, but for me, it’s different. I have to be careful of the situations I put myself in, so I don’t give guys the wrong impression. I miss Aaron, despite his slightly over-protective Facebook message, and our next Skype session isn’t even for another three days. I don’t know if it’s because of all the travelling, but this week feels much longer than usual.

  When my fingers start turning wrinkly, I climb out of the pool and wrap a towel around me. I stop to gaze at the river and the buzzing long-tail boats puttering upstream.

  The location is so exotic that I feel like I’m in a movie. In fact, I remember watching James Bond’s Man With The Golden Gun when I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure it was filmed here in Thailand.

  I close my eyes for a second and absorb the sounds and smells of my surroundings. But my sense of tranquillity evaporates when the hair on the back of my neck starts prickling—as if someone is watching me. I quickly look around. At first I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. The only noise nearby is from a bunch of Russian tourists talking loudly.

  And then I see him. A guy in his early forties, with Ken doll hair and mirrored glasses. He’s standing about twenty metres away, partially hidden by a palm tree, and he looks like he’s busy typing something on his mobile phone. But I swear he was staring at me a second ago.

  After a moment, he walks away. I don’t know whether to feel flattered or freaked out.

  I decide to feel flattered. But I’m going back upstairs now anyway.

  You can’t be too careful these days.

  THREE

  By 5pm, I figure Mia has slept long enough. I shake her vigorously by the shoulders until she finally stirs and pushes me away.

  “OK, OK, I’m up.” She rubs her eyes and sits up, swaying slightly.

  “You do realise you slept for nearly the whole day, don’t you?” I say.r />
  “Ah, well. I guess that means I’ll be able to party all night.”

  “Then why did you say we should only have a two hour nap? I’m not going to be able to keep up with you!”

  “You’ll be fine,” she says airily. She rolls off the bed and heads straight for a bottle of mandarin flavoured vodka she bought duty-free. After opening it, she pours herself a large shot in a water glass and throws it back in one gulp.

  “Good stuff,” she says huskily. She then holds the bottle out to me. “Thirsty?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Not for that, thanks.” I watch as she pours herself a second glass. “Aren’t you going to mix it with anything?”

  “I might for the next one, but I need a couple of shots first to get me amped up.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You should drink something. What about in there?” She points to the minibar.

  I reluctantly open up the small fridge under the TV and take out a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels and a can of Coke.

  I inspect the can. “You were right about the Thai spelling for Coke looking like the word ‘fan’.”

  Mia isn’t paying attention, because she’s started sifting through her suitcase, looking for an outfit to wear.

  “What do you think?” she asks, pressing a tight black dress to her front. It looks like it won’t even cover her butt.

  “If you want.”

  “Or maybe this?” She shows me a red sequinned thing with a plunging neckline.

  “Uh, maybe the first one.”

  She inspects both of them closely.

  “I think I’ll go with the red one,” she says.

  “Why did you ask me then, if you were just going to choose the opposite?”

  “I didn’t deliberately choose the opposite. But you know when sometimes you have a couple of options and you think you don’t know what you want, but then someone makes the decision for you and you realise that you knew the answer all along? Well, that’s how I feel right now.”