by Jack Twist
Chapter 13
I awoke in Arkansas’ little tent several times in the night, but never for long. On the first occasion I heard Abbie more than saw her, holding the baby, attempting to get her to suck water from the cloth. The baby only managed a few squeaks and settled again but Abbie held her, rocking her back and forth.
“Okay?” I asked her. She turned and nodded and I could just make out the shine of her eyes.
The second time I woke to the sound of a cry but not from the baby. When I saw it was Abbie, moaning in her sleep, I propped myself up on one elbow and shook her gently by the shoulder. She gasped as she woke, staring all around her, breathing heavily. “Where is she? Where is she?”
“She’s here. It’s alright. She’s right here between us.”
“Oh, God,” she said, her breathing coming more steadily. “Oh, that was terrible. I dreamt she was falling ... about to fall ... off the edge.”
“You okay now?”
“Yeh. If only this thing wouldn’t move. I mean what if there was a storm? How does he stand it?”
I watched her settle again and this time I waited for her eyes to close before I closed mine.
Next time I sat up to find Abbie sitting cross-legged holding the baby. She nodded towards the tent opening and I became aware of a low, humming monotone and the rich, sweet smell of marijuana smoke. As my vision improved I could make out our host, sitting cross-legged beside his little fire place, now a small pile of white ash on the stones. His chant was unintelligible, his head and shoulders moving slowly with the words, and when I moved closer to the opening I could see his eyes. The vague and troubled uncertainty was now gone. His eyes were glazed, vacant and distant. Sweat rolled thick on his face and neck, soaking his necklaces, the dog-tags and peace beads. War and peace, hanging together, around the neck of that one ordinary man.
Abbie settled the baby again and lay down herself, and I fell asleep wondering if the man sounded angry or sad. But his chant spoke no emotion. Just a dull, meaningless hum in the jungle darkness.
And then the last time I woke that night, to find our host lying beside me. I sensed his nearness before I could see him, close enough to touch by hand without moving my arm. I lifted my head, strained to see Abbie. She had moved off the sleeping mat against the tent side and held the baby in close to her, staring at me, eyes wide. I listened. There was a light breeze but it wasn’t raining. He had brought the smell of the smoke with him but the breeze moved the open tent flap and freshened the air sufficiently. He slept soundlessly. Fatigue was still with me, and the influence of Arkansas’s dope, because I went quickly back to sleep. All four of us slept, each nearly touching the next, in a tent made for one.
I awoke a couple of hours later with a start. A grey/green morning was seeping through the jungle canopy and when I turned my head I saw Abbie and the baby immediately. The tent flap still moved in the breeze but the bamboo sat still. Arkansas was outside, stretched out in deep sleep, his head on a small sausage-shaped pillow, breathing noisily now in what was almost a snore.
Stiff from hours of lying on the hard surface, I felt rested for all that. When I sat up Abbie lifted her head.
“G’day,” I whispered. “How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess.” She lay back. Her whisper was soft. “I’d love a bathroom. My kingdom for a bathroom.”
“Don’t push your luck. We were lucky to get a bedroom. Even if it meant sharing it around. When did he leave us?”
She sat up, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. She rubbed her knee and moved her head around in circles. “Want a piece of chewing gum?” She reached for her bag.
“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting breakfast.”
“You seem in better spirits.”
“Yeh. Well we’re nearly out of here.”
And the man outside was no monster. For a while there in the night we had been bedfellows. And his tree house had proved safe enough. The jungle beyond him too, it seemed, was strange more than threatening and now provided a comforting breeze. As well as that, I felt an intimacy in our nearness to each other, together in Arkansas’ little tent with the sleeping baby. And the gentle touch of ephemeral morning light, filtered through trees and tent, and the softening thing that sleep can do, enhanced all that I found lovely in her.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said. “When I first saw him I thought he was VC, and there’d be a lot more of them. I panicked.”
“It’s okay. It’d been a long, hard day.”
“Well, we’ve made it. We’ll soon be out of the jungle. And we’ve got the jerry can. We can go back to Muc Thap. Try and get some petrol.”
“I guess.” She smiled, a weak smile through her scratched, grimy face. “But let’s get out of here as soon as possible. I’m sure the baby is getting weaker by the minute. And every time the wind blows my stomach rolls over. And,” she lowered her whisper to almost nothing and pointed at the sleeping man outside. “That guy is crazy.”
I nodded. “But he’s going to save us.”
“Well I hope so. He’s a fruitcake. He sat there half the night chanting in some local dialect. Same words. Over and over. And got so stoned he decided to join us.”
I checked Arkansas. “Anyway he’s right out to it now.”
“He’s a pot head. And a deserter.” She lowered her whisper even further. “Living in a tree, like a monkey. Crazy. No wonder he’s not scared of being blown out of his tree by the wind. He’s probably stoned all the time.”
“We’ll have to let him sleep it off now. And when he’s awake get him to show us to the road.”
She rubbed her fingers through her hair and turned her head from side to side. “Could I have a little of your water, please, just to splash my face?”
She poured some water into one hand and used it to wash her face. It only smeared the dirt.
“Take some more. And have a drink.” With more water some of the dirt came off, revealing her white face. She took a drink and passed the bottle back to me. I washed my face, drank some water and looked at her. “You’ve still got dirt in those cuts on your forehead. Do you have any tissues left? Let me clean the dirt out of them.”
“It’s okay. I just want to get out of here.”
“Okay.” I mimicked her ‘okay’ a little. “But we have to wait. Cleaning them might stop infection.”
Her look was a mixture of question and knowing. As she reached for her bag I took the gum out of my mouth. She gave me some tissue and moved her head in closer over the baby. I poured a little water onto the tissue and dabbed gently.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. It just stings a little.” She was looking around her, down at the baby, not at me.
“Are you done, doctor?” Her eyes met mine.
“Almost. The patient must be patient.”
She was smiling, not at the lame joke, at my corny and dastardly plan. “You will leave some skin?”
“There. Perfect.” She was still looking at me. I let the tissue paper fall and moved my hand down the side of her face to rest against her cheek.
She glanced at the baby. I moved closer and put my hand on her shoulder and when we kissed I moved in again and nudged the baby. She didn’t make a sound. “Careful,” Abbie whispered. “I’ll be so glad if we can get her to a hospital quickly.”
I put my hand under her chin and lifted her face. I was more careful but I wanted more of her. I wanted to hold her and when I got too close to the baby again, she pulled away. “This is crazy. We’ll wake her.”
“I’ll come over there.”
“No. You can’t. There’s no room.” She was looking at me with that faint smile. Despite remnant smears of dirt her face was lovely. “There’s more room on your side.”
“Do you wanna come over here?”
“And give up my mat?” She pointed outside. “And with that man just there. How can you even think about …?”
“It’s not eas
y. But you’re beautiful.”
“I am not. Don’t lie.”
“But it’s okay. He’s dead to the world and he did say it was the honeymoon suite.” I moved over as far as possible against the side of the tent. “Look at that space. The baby’s over there near you. There’s enough room.”
“Hardly. Careful you don’t fall off the edge.”
“It’s okay. There’s a ledge. The whole thing’s stronger than you think. What’s the big deal?” Her smile broadened. “What?” I almost forgot to whisper.
“This is crazy.” But she looked outside once more and then lifted herself over the sleeping baby to squeeze in between us. “Ouch,” she whispered. “Let me get my knee comfortable. And you need a shave.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I hope you don’t mind goat’s milk.”
“It’s my favourite.”
I kissed her lips and felt her fingers in my hair at the back of my head. But then she pulled away suddenly, turned her head to the tent opening and listened.
“It’s okay.” I reached for her again and she responded. We were half sitting, resting on one arm and I dropped myself down onto the bamboo floor. “Come down here.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the guy is there, and he’s crazy. He’s right there beside us.” But she was still smiling. She glanced at the opening again and then dropped gently down beside me. “My God. Look at your feet. You’ve almost got your size twelves through the tent.”
I moved in against her.
“I hope I don’t offend. How I would love a shower.”
“You’re the loveliest nanny goat I’ve ever kissed.”
When I made a movement that pressed us even closer together she opened her mouth wider. But then she pulled away suddenly and sighed.
“No.” She sat up. “No, no.” She took both of my hands in hers and placed them on my chest, holding them there. “No.”
Climbing back over the baby this time she did not have the same control and she brushed against her and made her cry.
