by Wicks, Becky
I think of her face again this morning.; those aching brown eyes. What have they seen? And the scars on her arms...
A shiver runs up my spine in the heat. I was lucky. Obviously we were both lucky. We survived. All my scars are on the inside.
I force myself to get up, walk back to my hut. I strip off my clothes and turn on the shower. The water is cold in my outdoor bathroom but I'm used to it. The days and nights here are both so damn hot that a hot shower would be hell and there's no A/C here, not like at the big hotels.
I rinse myself off with soap, turn my face to the clouds from under the showerhead. The bathroom's the best part, I think. My room is basic, just a bed with a dresser and a closet and fridge, wooden walls and a terracotta colored tile floor. I chose this place on this particular beach 'cause it's quieter than Bang Niang. After being with people all day at Dream Dive and the school, I really just like to be alone, although I'm there most of the day. I never go too far. Just in case...
I shove the thought away as usual, but it's back in a second; course it is. Not a day goes past when I don't see him in my mind's eye, walking out of that ocean towards me like the whole thing was a mistake, a blip in time that fixed itself and brought him back.
They never found Toby. But that's where I lost him. And even though my mom was eight thousand miles away when it happened, I know that's where I lost her, too.
ISLA
The night bus is freezing. I haven't been so cold since I got to Thailand. I'm really regretting not getting my one jumper out of my suitcase before they stashed it in the luggage hold with a million backpacks.
'Are you going to the full moon party?' a Scottish guy asks me from the seat next to mine. He's cute. He has bright red hair with a blonde streak across the middle, like a Mohawk gone wrong. He has a nice nose, too. What's not as cute is the bright yellow sleeveless shirt he's wearing with Chang Beer on it and the tinny sound of his music that's been pumping from his headphones into my own ears since we set off at seven p.m.
'I don't think so,' I say, stopping my typing. I've been trying to edit my article on my iPad but the bumps in the road and the erratic driving keep making me add even more mistakes.
'You really should, it's awesome. I've been twice,' he says. 'I'm going to Phi Phi, my mate's there, then we're heading back up and over to Koh Phangan for the full moon. You should come? I can add you to Facebook if you want, what's your full name? Have you done Vietnam yet, by the way?'
I smile politely. 'I'm really not sure that's my thing, thanks though,' I say. 'And no, I haven't been to Vietnam.' I notice a greasy streak on the window by his head, where his sweat and sunscreen have rubbed off and smudged the glass. He smells a bit, actually. I pull the sarong I'm using as a scarf further over my mouth.
'The food in Vietnam is meant to be the best, have you heard that, too?' he says and I try to make my eyes look interested. I don't want to seem rude, but I really don't want to talk to anyone either; especially anyone I don't know about places I have no intention of ever visiting. Already I wish I booked a flight to Phuket, like Ben suggested, but the lady in the shop said at six hundred baht a bus ticket was cheaper. That was true, but I think she got a bigger cut from the bus company than she would've got from AirAsia. My head was still reeling when I talked to her anyway. I just handed over the cash and went back to pack. Then I walked around a mall till five p.m, drinking bubble tea and freaking out over what I was about to do. I still am... freaking out, that is.
Two German girls in front are talking softly in words I don't understand. The Chinese guy in the seat across the aisle from me is asleep and snoring. He's wearing eyeshades and ear plugs and he's wrapped in a huge blanket he must have brought himself. I'm jealous. They've given us blankets for the journey - it was part of the allure of going first class - but they're so thin they're useless.
I shiver under the stupid A/C as the Scottish guy rattles on about Ho Chi Minh motorcycle tours and some bloke who got arrested for drunkenly pissing on a wall in a hostel. I try to ignore the fact that I need a wee. I was hoping I could go the whole twelve-hour trip without needing the toilet at all. There can't be many things worse than a grim bus stop toilet... except a toilet that's literally on a bus. I can smell it already. I swear someone's been sick in it, which wouldn't surprise me, judging by the group of drunk guys that got on back in Bangkok. Some of them are still being loud at the back. They're American. Part of me wants to smirk and rib Ben about 'his kind' when I see him.
Oh my god, I'm going to see Ben.
A little shiver of something like excitement rushes up my spine. I think it's excitement. It could also be utter dread. I plug my headphones into the iPad as soon as the Scot pauses for thought, select a playlist I made earlier. Today's gratitude is most definitely my iPad. I've been trying to distract myself since I boarded the bus with thoughts of everything but what the hell I'm doing, cancelling Bali to go back to Khao Lak.
If I hate it when I get there, if it makes things worse, if I lose control, I can leave. I repeat the words to myself again as I nod at the Scot's mouth moving. I probably won't last the day. But whenever I thought about flying to Bali instead, the fear of leaving Ben again caused my brain to go into meltdown mode and my heart to bang in my ears. He's the one thing I have left from the time my entire world fell to pieces; the only silver lining that has ever appeared from the wreckage.
I close my eyes. Of course, I don't know anything about him now. I don't know if he's single, if he drinks, if he acts or sings or reads, if he did any of the things he said he wanted to do. All I know is that we wouldn't have been thrown back together again like we were if it wasn't for a reason.
*
By the time I open my eyes again the sunlight is streaming through the crack in the curtains over the Scottish guy's head. He's still asleep with his headphones on and it creeps me out for a second - the thought that I just spent the night sleeping next to someone I don't know - but I can't think about it for long because the excruciating need for a wee pushes all other thoughts from my head. I missed the rest stop.
I scramble up, untangling myself from my sarong and my pointless, thin blanket. The bus is still moving and the bright red digital clock at the front says it's five-thirty a.m. We must be almost there, but I can't hold on any longer.
I make my way up the aisle, open the tiny door at the back and step inside. The stench hits me like a sledgehammer; pungent sewage and vomit. I hold my breath so I can't smell or taste it, then I wee as fast as I can, holding onto the walls to stop myself falling. There's no toilet paper. I rub my hands three times on the tiny, filthy bar of soap, rinse my hands under the pathetic stream that trickles from the tap, squeeze my way back out and head back up the aisle to my seat. The Scottish guy wakes up when I sit down, rubs his eyes sleepily.
'Morning,' he says and I smile as best I can. I don't like night busses. I don't like them at all. I'm flying out of Phuket when I leave.
He reaches for his backpack under his seat and unzips several pockets before finding the one with his gum in it. He offers me a stick of Wrigley’s and I let out a sigh, take it. He's nice enough. He's just a bit keen. And he needs to wash more.
'Where you going now, then?' he asks me, shoving his pack back under his seat and pulling his knees up to rest on the seat in front.
'Khao Lak,' I say, pulling the blanket back over me. Another bolt of adrenaline makes me feel sick again. 'It's north, by an hour or so I think. There's a mini van ride included with my ticket.'
'Right,' he says. 'Not heard of that. I'm getting the ferry straight to Phi Phi.'
'You haven't heard of Khao Lak?' I say. I can't hide the surprise in my voice as I unscrew my water bottle, take three long gulps, then three more. Did he not watch the news back in 2004? Did he not see what happened there? Does he even know what happened in Phi Phi?
I know all the facts. I've tortured myself with them. Almost two thousand people died there that day and seventy percent of the buildings were destro
yed. Five thousand people perished in the whole of Thailand and over half were tourists.
I met a guy once at one of the survivor support groups who'd been rescued and half carried, half dragged up the hill on Phi Phi by two Thai ladies and a man. He found out later that one of the women had watched her newborn baby die when the wall of water swept her shop away. She stuck with him for three days anyway, till he was reunited with his wife. I remember the local people more than anything from that day, and all the days that followed. They were the ones helping. They were the ones being bravest.
The Scot is still shaking his head. 'I hear you can get magic mushrooms on Phi Phi - not as many cops,' he says.
I chew hard on my gum. It must be a ghost town now, no matter what they rebuilt of it. How can it not be? I wouldn't take magic mushrooms there if you paid me - I see enough from that day when I'm straight and sober. He's lucky he doesn't know what happened; unless he does and it doesn't bother him.
I stare at his knees against the seatback as he continues to talk. It's hard to imagine unless you were there; I already know that. You can watch the footage on YouTube, and even that movie they made with Ewan McGregor in it and feel horrified, but then you can go back to your daily life and forget about it. You didn't lose anyone. You didn't lose your mind or the flesh from your arms; you won't have to deal with the consequences day in, day out, every day for the rest of your life.
For a second I envy this guy as he starts up talking about the hotel he's booked and the cocktails that are only two quid. I wish my choice of where to travel boiled down to something as simple as where the best party was... or hallucinogenic fungi. I went to France once, but I stay in London for the most part. There will never be a natural disaster there, no tsunamis, no tornadoes, no earthquakes, no landslides. Of course, there are terrorist threats, but I'm not so bothered about those. Terrorists can't do anything as terrible as Mother Nature can do when she's pissed off.
I realize I'm shaking. I manage not to talk to the Scot again until we roll up at our final destination, where he opens the curtains as people start to stand and reach for their stuff. I reach for my small purse in the seat pocket. It's not there.
Panic.
I stand up, feel around behind me, down the side of the seat. 'What's wrong?' he asks, getting to his feet beside me and slipping on his flip flops.
'My purse, I can't find it, I left it here,' I tell him, picking up my iPad. Thank God that's still here.
He frowns. 'You left it in the seat pocket?'
'Yes, why?'
'Did it have a sign on it too, staying steal me?'
I scowl at him, carry on looking. I know he didn't take it. He seems like a nice guy, plus he's been making way too much effort to talk to me the whole time. People are getting off the bus now. I sink to the floor, start feeling around under the seat. 'My passport's in there, and my phone, and my notebook,' I say, 'and my credit card, and all my money. Someone must have grabbed it when I was asleep, or in the loo. This can't be happening.'
'Oh man, I'm sorry, I didn't see anyone go for it,' he says, helping me look for a second. 'Wait, I'll tell the driver to tell everyone getting off, someone might have seen it.'
'Thank you,' I say, letting him squeeze past me with his backpack. I scoot around again on the floor for a second but there's nothing there. The photo of mom and dad was in that purse. I want to cry.
'Any luck?' the Scot asks, bounding up to me again when I step off the bus and leading me to the luggage hold. 'The driver's gone, sorry, maybe he's in the bathroom, or the shop.'
I look around me as he helps me pull my suitcase out of the hold. It's mayhem out here. Everyone's milling around, grabbing their bags and cases and making their way to various mini buses and cabs and scooters. There's no way we can ask every single person who was on that bus if they've seen my purse.
'Sorry, hun,' he says sincerely, putting a hand to my lower back and wheeling my suitcase over to a quieter patch in the chaos. 'Anything else I can do before I go? You can always come to Phi Phi if you like?'
'I'll be OK,' I tell him, but my heart is sinking further by the second now. What the hell was I thinking, coming here?
BEN
'Open your dive books, I have the log details for you if anyone's interested,' I say, swinging my legs over the wooden bench at the table with the four French girls. All of them have their wetsuits rolled down to their waists. The brunette with the shortest hair and the star tattoo on the side of her neck giggles and whispers something in French that I know is about me. She's been flirting all day and Kalaya is pissed.
'She uses her breasts on you,' she hissed at me earlier. I held up my hands. I knew what she was saying but it's not like I could do anything about it. People flirt.
I've been teaching the French girls for five days and they've just done their first fun dive. I couldn't teach for twenty-four hours after getting off the plane, so being back down there just now was like lifting a million tons of weight off my shoulders. I hardly ever go as long as that without diving. It's therapeutic, I guess, until Kalaya ruins the mood by accusing me of doing something I haven't even done. She's a fucking hurricane sometimes.
Sonthi walks up now with his own wetsuit half undone, sits down next to me as I read out the stats. Maximum depth: eleven meters. Fish spotted: one eagle ray, one lion fish, one green turtle, etc. etc. 'No dolphins,' the blond sighs and I smile. They all come here wanting dolphins. They never get them.
The blond whispers something to Sonthi. He grins and winks at her from behind his Ray Bans. He's relentless. I saw him spinning circles with her underwater, holding her hand when he led her over to the turtle. He knows she'll take him up on his offer of dinner and buckets on the beach tonight, but more importantly than that, he knows Kalaya will go straight to Sasi and report this, too. She's pretending to do the paperwork on reception, but I can feel her eyes on us both now like lasers.
I reel off a few more stats from the dive and I'm just getting into how much air was left in everyone's tank by the end of it when a cough from Kalaya makes me turn my head. 'Somebody here for you,' she says, raising her eyebrow. I almost fall off the seat when I see who she's pointing to.
Izzy is wheeling a navy blue suitcase over to the other table. It's covered in sand. She must have wheeled it all the way here from the street and asked for me. I stand up quickly, back over the bench, ramming my hands in my hair. Holy shit. She actually came. I walk over to her, trying to ignore Kalaya's eyes on me, and Sonthi's now, too.
'Izzy!' My voice sounds as shocked as I feel. 'How did you get here?'
'On the bus,' she says. 'I hope it's OK, I'm sorry for just showing up.'
She looks hot and flustered. I am shocked; so shocked I can't even hug her like I want to. I couldn't anyway. I thought she would've called. 'How was the bus? Why didn't you get the plane?' I manage, standing with my back to everyone, looking down at her familiar but tired-looking eyes. I can see she's struggling to hold back tears and my hands itch to rub her shoulders or brush the stray strands of hair from across her forehead. I just finished hauling the tanks off the sand so there's sand all over me - another barrier. She's here.
'I thought first class would be OK. But it was so cold, I left my jumper in my suitcase and they put it in the luggage hold. Then I got my purse nicked.'
I smile as she talks a million miles an hour. I forgot how Brits call sweaters jumpers. Then I realize what she's said. Nicked is bad. 'Someone stole your purse?'
'It's my fault, I left it in the seat pocket,' she says with a sigh, taking a band from around her wrist and tying her hair up at the back in a ponytail.
'It's not your fault some asshole took what wasn't theirs, Izzy,' I say, forcing myself to think straight. 'Did you tell the police?'
'Yes, that's why I'm here so late.' She folds her arms across herself in the self-conscious way she always did. She's wearing denim shorts and a low cut green T-shirt. 'I just spent three hours in the police station. Then I had to find a
n Internet place so I could get some money wired from my godmother and cancel all my cards. There's nothing I can do about my passport till I'm back in Bangkok, though. I have to go to the embassy. So annoying. Anyway, then I had to get another cab here 'cause I missed my transfer bus.'
'Wow, Izzy, I'm so sorry,' I say. 'What a day, huh? At least you made it, though. We can fix all that other stuff, don't worry, I can help you. You got insurance, right?'
'Thank you,' she says. 'Yes, I have insurance. I gave the police your number in case they hear anything, I hope that's OK.'
'Course that's OK.'
'This place looks... the same.' She gestures around us now. I don't miss the apprehension on her face, the deep breath she takes before fixing her eyes to the sandy floor. She noticed.
'I built it back up pretty much the same,' I say and I get a flashback of her, sixteen, like I was, laughing as we fitted her with her flippers to go with the mask she lost in my fake shark attack. She was sitting on the bench that got swept away, just like the ones that are here now, painted blue and white to match the walls.
'Dream Dive,' she says, nodding thoughtfully. 'Seems like a dream.'
'Tell me about it,' I say, studying her face in the sun. Her hair is still the shiniest on the beach.
I don't miss her eyes flitting to Kalaya and then to my bare chest right in front of her, and to the ocean shimmering to our right. She swallows visibly. It's almost three p.m. There are people on the beach, sunbathing and snorkeling. The last time she was here, this stretch of sand must have looked very different. Is that what she's picturing now? The shards of glass and crunched up cars, sides of hotel rooms, store signs and shattered toilets sitting in piles of broken loungers?
'Wait here,' I say, putting a hand to her arm, then walking to the table. 'Guys, I'm going to go take my friend to find a room, OK? You can finish this up with Sonthi. I'll see you later.'
