Mia screws up her nose. “I see. Damn, I’m sorry. I thought you might actually like having some space.” She leans in and whispers in my ear. “I didn’t think you really liked Ava and the guys.”
“I like them fine,” I whisper back. “Obviously, I don’t know them very well, but they’d be preferable to that.” I gesture my head towards the American man, who is now blowing his nose into a handkerchief and inspecting the contents.
Mia shivers. “Ugh. OK, that’s settled. You’re swapping with me for the last part of the tour.”
“No, you don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do,” she says firmly. “This is as much your holiday as it is mine.”
I gently bump my shoulder against hers in appreciation. This is the side of Mia I love.
“Well, how about we compromise? I’ll go in your boat for the next bit and then we can swap again for the final leg back?”
“I don’t mind. Either way.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
Our food finally arrives, which is a mouth-watering feast of Thai fried rice, barbequed prawns and a tangy marinated chicken salad with bean sprouts, coriander and chili. It’s a pleasant reprieve from what has been a slightly rocky morning.
Back at the boats, Mia gamely climbs in next to the American woman and strikes up a conversation about her desire to visit the States one day.
I sit next to Ava and smile nervously.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Ava gazes out at the water, and seemingly unable to enjoy the view without capturing it permanently, snaps several photos of it with her phone. I then watch her load them into Instagram and tinker with the filters.
“That’s pretty,” I say, pointing to one she took of a pink and green neon sign.
“Yeah. I think it’ll get a few likes.”
I watch as she scrolls back to her feed and note that she has over twenty thousand followers. I’d be lucky to have fifty.
And then I see her photos. At least seventy percent of them feature a posed shot of her partially undressed. She has a pretty good body, so I can see why she might do it. But putting yourself out there for public scrutiny must require a pretty thick skin.
“You got a lot of likes on that one,” I say, pointing to one where she’s topless, but facing away from the camera.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Do you get any stalkers?”
“A few. But it’s all part of the territory.” She points to several inappropriate comments and shrugs. “I also make a bit of money from a clothing label that gets me to advertise their stuff, so it’s worth it. I’m pretty small-time at the moment, but I hope to turn it into a full-time job down the track.”
“Cool.” I know it’s not as easy to make money from Instagram as some people make it look, but it certainly seems like more fun than what I do, managing Keith.
Todd and Grant flop down into the seat behind us.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Todd.
He burps in response. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten those prawns.”
I shudder. “Do you have some water?”
He holds up a bottle. “Yep.”
We pull away, and I pray that if Todd has to throw up at some point, it’s not a forward-facing projectile vomit.
The other boat miraculously stays close to ours for the next part of the tour, and Mia is able to converse with everyone quite comfortably as the boats slowly putter through the narrow sections of canal. I try to make small talk with Grant, but experience a sense of déjà vu as I comment on the favourable weather. This is exactly what happened at Mia’s vampire party.
But I do enjoy the tour a lot more, now that my stomach is full and I don’t feel so left out. In fact, when we jump out at the next stop, I’m quite happy to swap back with Mia.
We finish the tour with a visit to the Royal Barges National Museum and then start the journey back to the Shangri-La. Just after 2pm, our boats slow down on the approach to the jetty. Mia and her friends go ahead first.
Mia calls back to me over the water. “Chloe! Todd isn’t feeling very well, so we’re going to take him to the bathroom at the hotel. See you there?”
“No worries. Be there soon!”
I watch as they all climb out and Todd practically sprints up the road, the others following closely behind.
My boat finally moors at the dock and I stand up, ready to jump out. Only the woman next to me seems to have the same idea, and the momentum rocks the boat so much that I tip over the side and go head first into the murky brown river water.
It’s all a blur for a moment. I’m disoriented by the suddenness of the situation, and my head bangs against something hard. I try not to get any water in my eyes or mouth as I struggle to find my way back to the surface.
There! My head bursts through and I breathe in huge gulps of air. There’s a lot of agitated yelling in Thai as the driver leans over the edge of the boat and reaches down to lift me out. He is surprisingly strong for such a small guy. We stagger onto the dock together and I lie on my back, shaking from shock. I touch my fingers to my forehead and discover that they are covered in blood.
“You go to hospital,” he says firmly.
I sit up and try to ignore the panicky feeling in my chest. “I think I’ll be OK.”
“No. You go to hospital. This water dirty. You don’t want infection.”
The American woman is standing nearby and not looking remotely remorseful for her part in my underwater adventure. “It’s true, honey. I read a story about a Thai popstar who died after he crashed his car in this river and got an infection in the cut on his head.”
What?
I pull myself up into a sitting position and look around. Mia and the others are long gone. The driver helps me stand up.
“I get my friend to take you to hospital.” He hurries off to a tuk-tuk nearby.
I feel like I’ve separated from my body and I’m now looking down from above.
The driver comes back and puts my arm over his shoulder. “Come with me.”
The American lady suddenly calls out. “Hey! Don’t forget your purse!”
I half-turn and see her holding up my handbag. I guess I should be glad it didn’t end up in the river with me. I couldn’t bear to lose my stuff again.
She hurries over and gives it to me. I nod a curt thank you.
The driver and I limp to a nearby tuk-tuk, where I collapse in the back. I hope no one minds me dripping everywhere. “My friend take care of you,” the driver says.
I’m still too stunned to argue. I gingerly touch the bleeding spot on my forehead again. I think it looks worse than it is, because the water is mixing with my blood.
But I think this might actually be more horrible than getting gastro on a cruise ship.
EIGHT
The hospital is busy. A lot of people have come in with injuries today. I wonder if this is normal, or if it’s because of Songkran. I have to wait to see a doctor, and it gives me way too much time to dwell on the popstar who died from an infected cut on his head.
I must be losing it, because the first person I think of contacting is Daniel. I’m sure Mia won’t have noticed I’m gone yet, especially if she’s looking after Todd, and I don’t want to worry her until I find out how seriously I’m hurt. I obviously can’t contact Aaron. At least not easily. And I’m definitely not calling work.
Before I can reconsider the appropriateness of it, I get out my phone and write a short message, using the number printed on Daniel’s business card, which I still have in my bag.
Fell in the Khlongs today and bumped my head. Now at hospital. Worst holiday ever. P.S. In case you’re wondering, this is Chloe.
I’m not sure what I expect to achieve from doing this, but it somehow makes me feel a bit better. And it’s a pleasant distraction from thoughts of my imminent death.
My phone beeps a minute later.
Oh no! Are you OK?
I smile as I type back.
Just waiti
ng to see the doctor. Hopefully I don’t get a brain infection and die.
He writes back even quicker this time.
I’m pretty sure you won’t die. But it must have been traumatic. Is your sister looking after you?
Rather than have to explain the details, I answer back vaguely.
In her own way.
The phone beeps again. He’s a quick texter.
Do you need me to do anything? Come and translate?
I hadn’t even thought of that. Hopefully the doctor speaks English.
I think I’ll be OK. Thanks anyway. Sorry to bother you. Just trying to distract myself.
“Chloe?” A doctor calls my name.
I quickly stand up and shove my phone in my bag. I follow the doctor into her office.
“It looks like you’ve got a bit of a bump there,” she says, examining my forehead.
“Uh, yeah. I fell in the Khlongs.”
Her face creases with concern. “OK. Well, we should probably get this cleaned up, pronto. We don’t want you picking up any nasty infections.”
“Like that popstar who died?” I try to make it sound like a joke so she can’t see how terrified I really am.
“Oh, yes, that popstar. I didn’t follow all the details of his case, but I think that was just a very unlucky chain of events. From what I heard, he was stuck upside down in his car for some time, and may have swallowed a bit of water. I wouldn’t compare your situation to his. Your cut is very minor. You won’t even need stitches. But let’s get you into the surgery anyway.”
I follow her down the back to an area with lots of medical equipment. A nurse lies me down on a bed and prepares a small metal cart with gauze, disinfectant and tape.
I stare at the ceiling, counting the tiles.
I feel soggy and dirty. The doctor cleans the wound on my forehead and tapes a huge piece of gauze over the top. I must look ridiculous.
“There. Good as new.” She sits me up and then shines a light in each of my eyes. “Now, are you experiencing any headaches or dizziness?”
“Only a small headache.”
“Right. Well, if you start to feel worse, be sure to come straight back. In the meantime, if you feel the need, just take some over the counter pain relief.”
“Thanks.”
She looks at my clothing, which has only partially dried. “It’s probably best if you take a shower to get the river water off you. Do you have a change of clothes?”
I shake my head miserably.
“In that case, we might have a spare pair of scrubs you can borrow. Head on to the bathroom and I’ll ask the nurse to look for some.”
I’m suddenly feeling a bit teary. “Thank you,” I whisper.
I plod over to the bathroom and peel off my clothes. I don’t know how I’m going to wash my hair with this bandage on my head, but I want to rinse it somehow.
Thankfully the shower is one of those ones where you can take the nozzle off the wall and direct the spray wherever you like. I turn the water on gently and hold it over my hair.
Ah. I feel better already. There’s a soap dispenser on the wall, so I squeeze some out and rub it into my hair. I then scrub a bit over the rest of my body.
After rinsing, I climb out and dry off with a thin, rough towel. But at least it’s clean. And I’m clean. The nurse has left a pair of teal-coloured scrubs on a seat near the door. I climb into them. They are slightly too big, but much nicer than getting back into my other clothes.
I timidly peek out into the back room. The nurse sees me and hands me a plastic bag to put my wet stuff in.
“You be OK?” she asks.
I nod. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” She hands me a ticket. “Wait for your number to be called at front counter. Then you just fill out form and pay. You can go after that.”
I smile appreciatively and walk out to the reception area. I wonder if everyone thinks I’m a doctor now. Ha.
After waiting for another fifteen minutes, I fill out a form and am told that I have to pay over one hundred dollars for the consult. I know I can claim it on travel insurance later, but it’s not convenient right now, when it’s going to eat into a big chunk of the money I have left for the holiday.
I reluctantly hand over the cash and trudge out the door. Once I’m outside, I jump in a cab and ask the driver to take me back to the hotel.
We end up stopping a few blocks away, because the roads are blocked by what looks to be a massive water fight.
“Crazy tourists,” the driver mutters. “They think Songkran gives them permission to do anything they want.”
“Can you go a different way?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I have to let you out here.”
I baulk at his suggestion. The last thing I want to do is navigate my way through what looks to be an aquatic version of The Hunger Games.
He holds out his hand. “You pay, please.”
I reluctantly hand over a couple of bills. It takes me a few goes to get up the courage to open the door and venture out into the chaos. Eventually, I step out and use the door as a shield while I observe my surroundings. I’m looking for the quickest and driest route back to the hotel.
There! I see a little alleyway that seems like it might go back down to the waterfront beside another hotel. If I can squeeze through there without being noticed, I might be able to get back to the Shangri-La through the pool area.
I slam the taxi door and walk as quickly as I can without jostling my head too much. No one sees me. I marvel at the vast array of water balloons, super soakers and other water-based equipment being bandied about.
I’m only a few feet from the alley when I suddenly feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
OK. That might be a slight exaggeration. Maybe a truck made of water.
Someone has thrown a full bucket of water at the side of my face. I gasp and cough, caught unawares.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream. But the offender has already disappeared.
I turn and hurry down the alley, checking to make sure I’m not being followed, and then come out at the riverfront.
It’s strange to feel so glad about returning to the scene where I bumped my head only a couple of hours ago. At least it’s relatively deserted, and no one is lurking nearby with water fighting equipment.
I make my way, dripping, through the hotel lobby and ignore the concerned looks of the staff at reception. I don’t know if they’re upset I’m causing a slip hazard, or if I look like I need further medical attention. I wait for the elevator and then drip all over the floor in there too.
Mia isn’t even waiting in our room. I shake my head and dump my stuff on the floor, wishing it was Thursday already. Then I could go to the consulate and ask them to send me home under emergency circumstances. Between my night at Khaosan Road, the disastrous Khlongs tour, and being ambushed downstairs just now, I’m not sure I want to be in Thailand anymore.
I pull off the soggy scrubs and get back in the shower. I think I’m setting a record for bathing on this holiday.
After changing into my PJs, I check the dressing on my head and see that it’s still holding together, despite taking a beating. I then fill up the bath with warm water, pour in some body wash and then put all my dirty clothes in to soak.
I feel like I need to brush my teeth, so I reach for my toothbrush, which I left beside the basin.
Only it’s not there. Huh.
I look in my toiletries case and find it there instead. I wonder if Mia used it by accident and then put it back, hoping I wouldn’t notice. Yuck. I get seriously grossed out at the idea of someone else’s tooth plaque sticking to my toothbrush.
But I don’t have the energy to go and buy a new one, and there’s a small chance I put it back in there without realising, so I tip some bottled water over it and then pile it up with toothpaste.
It’s now 5pm, and I am completely exhausted. I still can’t call Mia, because even if she’s bought a new s
im card, I don’t know the number. I write her another message on Facebook instead, asking where she is.
I then lie around for a few hours, mindlessly channel surfing and eating a bowl of fries I get sent up from room service.
Around seven, my phone beeps. I pounce on it and see a reply from Mia.
Sorry! Got side-tracked by the Songkran festival! Over at Patpong! Come and join us! I’ll make sure I’m near my phone so you can message me when you get here!
I shudder. Wasn’t Patpong where they had all the sex shows? And combined with the type of water fight I found myself in earlier? No, thank you. Besides, I’m a little cranky that it took Mia so long to wonder where I was.
Me: Um, might just stay here. Bumped my head before, so have a bit of a headache.
She writes back quickly.
Oh babe. Are you alright?
Me: Yeah, fine. But think it might be best if I have an early night.
Mia: OK. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll try and keep my phone close by.
Me: See you in the morning! XOXO
I stay up for a while longer, wondering whether I should suck it up and go find Mia. My headache isn’t that bad—but then the idea of getting dressed up and catching a cab all the way over to a place that features women shooting ping-pong balls out of their vaginas fills me with dread.
I vow to myself that from tomorrow onwards, I’ll make an effort. A proper one.
But first, I sleep. I know in the movies, doctors always tell you not to fall asleep alone after a concussion. And a tiny part of me is tempted to mention this fact to Daniel, but that would be super inappropriate.
Maybe I have incurred some brain damage after all.
***
It turns out I must have been super tired, because when I wake up and look at the clock, it’s already lunchtime. Falling into the river yesterday must have knocked me around more than I realised. Either that, or I am experiencing some sort of erratic jetlag.
I sit up and immediately notice something isn’t right.
All of Mia’s stuff is gone.
What?
I stand up, feeling a little lightheaded, and look around the room. Her clothes, her suitcases and all her stuff in the bathroom is gone.
Perfume Therapy Page 7