by Lincoln Cole
But, the more he thought about it, the more all right he felt with that possibility. In any case, he wouldn’t abandon Abigail to her fate, no matter what she decided or how she had treated him. Even angry with her, he cared about her more than he wanted to admit.
With so much to worry about, Haatim felt unsure if he would ever fall asleep. Naturally, he went out cold after only minutes.
Chapter 18
Life can turn on a dime. One minute, everything seems as normal as can be, and the next, it all changes. Today had begun in a mundane enough way for expat, Matt Eicholt. Later, on the run and terrified, he lamented that he couldn’t have stolen just a bit of hindsight and transmuted that gold-dust into just a touch of foresight. Yes, it had all seemed normal enough …
***
“Do you speak English?”
It took Matt a few seconds to realize that the young woman had addressed her question to him. He stood on the street corner, waiting for the light to change, and the question caught him off-guard.
In hindsight, though, he shouldn’t have felt so surprised: living in Cambodia as a Caucasian man, he made a complete minority and stuck out like a sore thumb, being one of the few permanent outsiders in Phnom Penh.
“Yes,” he said, turning to face the woman. She looked petite and mousy with black hair and eyes. Like him, she stuck out with her fair skin; though, unlike him, she had the deer-and-headlights look of a typical lost tourist. “I speak English.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said, letting out a tremendous sigh. “I’ve been trying to get back to my hotel for ages now, but I seem to have gotten turned around and have no idea where I am.”
“Which hotel?”
“I don’t remember the name. It’s near the elephant enclosure, though. I rode out here with some friends earlier today, and they went back without me while I went shopping. I haven’t managed to find a tuk-tuk driver who speaks English, and I’m desperate.”
Matt could tell. She looked terrified and exhausted from all of the time spent in the hot sun. He imagined that he had looked much the same when he’d first come to Cambodia four years earlier, though now, he’d gotten used to the heat and adapted.
Not able to speak Khmer out in this section of town would bring a nightmare because, even though many people living here were multi-lingual, they spoke many other languages like French and Chinese before English.
It made communication difficult at the best of times, and even generic pronunciation dictionaries proved useless when trying to communicate with a frantic tuk-tuk driver and explain where one needed to go.
“You need to go about twenty minutes that way to get there. Do you have any money?”
“Plenty,” she said. “Money isn’t a problem.”
He laughed. “All right. Let me flag down a driver for you.”
“That would be fantastic.”
Matt walked over to the street and waved down one of the motorists passing by that didn’t currently have passengers. They made for the cheapest form of transportation.
He managed to flag down a middle-aged driver, who pulled his motorcycle up next to Matt. The driver sized him up, and then asked very slowly, in broken English, where Matt wanted to go.
Matt spoke fluent Khmer. Maybe not perfect, but enough to get by in almost any situation. He told the man exactly where the woman needed to go. The look of shock on the man’s face that he could speak their language came as nothing more than Matt had expected, and he had grown numb to it while living here.
He looked like a tourist, so when they found out he wasn’t, they got surprised … and, usually, also frustrated. The man quoted Matt a price more than five times what the trip should cost, which most tourists would pay without a second of hesitation. Matt, on the other hand, knew the game. After a quick argument, the man lowered the price to only twice what it should cost.
Though pricier than Matt had hoped for, it still cost far less than what the driver had planned to make when he pulled over. A good compromise meant both parties would leave unhappy.
He asked the driver to wait, and then walked back over to the woman. “It is set,” he said. “The trip will cost you a dollar.”
“A dollar?” she asked, mouth hanging open. “The trip out here cost ten.”
“For your group?”
“For me.”
Matt laughed. “Then, you got ripped off.”
“I suppose so,” she said, sighing. “But right now, I could care less. All I want to do is get back to the hotel and my friends.”
“I can sympathize. I was just on my way home, actually.”
“Oh, where?”
“Not too far from your hotel. I live in an apartment above the church.”
“Would you like to come with?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, it’s too costly for my blood to ride a tuk-tuk all the time, and I enjoy the walk.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You already saved me a fortune on the trip. I’ll pay for you as well. I would appreciate the company.”
Matt smiled. “All right, then.”
They climbed into the tuk-tuk carriage, and after only a few moments, they traveled on the road, weaving in and out of traffic. People didn’t follow the rules of the road too well in Phnom Penh, which meant driving throughout Cambodia proved incredibly dangerous.
Matt refused to drive in the city for that reason. Motorcycles weaved in and out of the lanes, cars and tuk-tuks swerved around each other, and it all seemed rather hectic.
Matt barely noticed the chaos anymore, but he could tell that the woman had a much more difficult time of things. She gripped the edges of the carriage and looked terrified as she watched the cars weave around them.
“I’m Matt,” he said, hoping conversation would distract her.
“Carla.” She let go of the seat long enough to shake his hand, and then grabbed it again immediately. Her knuckles turned white.
“Where do you come from?”
“California,” she said. “San Jose. Came up here with some friends on vacation. Do they always drive like this?”
“Always. Off to the beach?”
She nodded. “In a couple of days. We just got back from Siem Reap.”
“Ah, did you visit Angkor Wat?”
“Yes. Incredible.”
“Awe-inspiring.” He nodded. “It blew me away, the first time I saw it.”
“You live here?”
“Yeah. I have for three years, and before that, I lived in Banteay Meanchey. It’s a northern province not too far from Siem Reap.”
“That’s interesting,” she said, though he could tell she didn’t much like the prospect of living in Cambodia.
It didn’t surprise him. Many tourists came here because it made for a cheap tourist destination, and they could make their money stretch a lot further. A lot of them, especially the ones who grew up pampered in their home countries, found much of what they saw here as distasteful, and at the very least, nothing like they had expected.
Matt had been one of those pampered individuals, growing up in London. It hadn’t begun that way. His parents died in a plane crash when he was young, and he got adopted by a couple who couldn’t have children of their own.
His adoptive parents, though not rich, made good money and got him anything he wanted, including a solid education and a chance to visit the world.
He had come to Cambodia as part of a mission trip with his Protestant friends years ago. They operated a church far to the north, outside Banteay Meanchey. The people he’d come with had gotten a little dismayed by the lack of interest from the local populace in Catholicism, but it still pleased them to help by donating supplies and teaching English to the Cambodian people.
Matt, on the other hand, had fallen in love with the country. He saw it as an unpolished gem, full of beautiful and friendly citizens and vast untapped potential. After the mission trip, he had stuck around, quitting his job back in London and taking a post at the
church.
After only a few months, he ran the local church and all community outreach efforts in the surrounding provinces. Few people he met spoke English, and none fluently, so that had forced him to learn the local language fast.
It hadn’t taken long for this to become his permanent home. He’d built up a small congregation in the north, and then moved to Phnom Penh to live in a more bustling area and opened a church here as well. It reminded him more of his home back in England and had all of the amenities he missed.
Occasionally, he considered moving back home to get nearer to his family, which his adoptive parents had wanted for a long time, but each time, he decided to extend his stay for a little while longer. All of his friends lived here now, and if he went home, then coming back to Cambodia in the future would prove considerably more difficult.
So, he stayed, ran his churches, and lived a quiet life in the first real place he could call home.
“How do you like things here so far?” he asked.
“It’s nice,” his companion replied. “The bus rides, though, … I thought we would never make it back to the city.”
He smiled. “I know, right? Fifteen hours to take a five-hour bus ride.”
“The driver stopped every ten minutes for a pee break.”
“And I bet he just jumped outside and used a tree, didn’t he?”
She laughed. “You know it.”
“I took a trip a few years ago where the driver knew someone along the way. He stopped the bus at the guy’s house. He stayed there drinking for almost five hours out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, we had, like, thirty people on the bus, too. We all just sat there, waiting for the guy to come back. When he did, he’d gotten completely drunk and just kept right on driving.”
“That’s insane.”
“I’ve seen crazier things.”
“Name one.”
“I saw a mother driving her motorcycle to the grocery store with a five-month-old baby on the seat behind her, clinging to her.”
“Get out of here. No way.”
“I’m serious. She rode on the road and everything, going at least forty kilometers per hour in heavy traffic.”
“That’s ridiculous. What was her plan when the baby fell off?”
“Babies have strong survival instincts. It held on. You know they don’t use diapers here?”
“They don’t?”
“Not much, at least. Children get potty-trained before their second birthday.”
“What?”
“Yeah, it basically boils down to expectations. When you expect more out of babies, you usually get it.”
“So, they adapt. That’s crazy.”
He nodded. “It is. What about food? What’s the craziest thing you’ve eaten since you came out here?”
This gave another easy topic for tourists, he knew. Though nothing seemed strange to him anymore, the local cuisine freaked people out more often than not.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I don’t eat strange stuff. If I don’t know what it is, it doesn’t go near my mouth. But, my friends tried fish heads.”
“Oh?”
“They hated it. I did try a chicken thing, but it surprised me how much bone it had in it. I almost choked.”
“It does take some getting used to. They do tend to leave in the bone. Meat gets used more for flavor here than as the star of the dish.”
“What about you? Craziest thing you’ve eaten.”
“Balut,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“It translates to, basically, duck embryos in English.”
“Like duck fetus?”
“Yeah,” he said.
She scrunched up her face, and he had to admit she looked quite cute when she did it. He said, “They boil them like an egg. It comes out like a hardboiled egg with a chicken nugget inside when it’s done.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Does take some getting used to, and they love them here. Quite the delicacy.”
“What else have you eaten?”
“Bug stew,” he said. “And dog.”
“Dog? You ate dog?”
“Yeah. Once. I went out with a friend, and we got fairly drunk.”
“Do they eat a lot of dog here?”
“No. They eat black dogs for good luck, but in general, they frown upon such things. Eating dog would be like eating fast food where you live.”
She laughed. “So, no one admits to it.”
“Nope.”
The tuk-tuk pulled to a stop at the corner that Matt had directed them to. He had to admit, getting a ride with Carla had saved him a lot of time on his trip home. He enjoyed walking, but it had turned into a hotter than usual day, and he looked forward to getting back to his apartment and relaxing.
Above his church, it proved one of the more expensive ones in the neighborhood. Unlike most residences, his had many Western amenities, including a sit-down toilet instead of a squat one. He didn’t mind squatting, but sitting down just seemed more relaxing.
“We’re here,” he said, climbing out of the tuk-tuk.
“Thank God. At least I recognize this!”
He offered his hand to help Carla down, and then she fished her wallet out of her pocket.
“You said two dollars for both of us?” she asked. Matt nodded. Carla fished a five out of her wallet and handed it to the driver. “Can I get change—?”
The driver stuffed the five into his shirt pocket, mumbled something in Khmer, and then drove off before she could even finish her statement. She watched, flabbergasted, and then burst out laughing.
“I guess not,” she said to no one in particular.
“It happens.”
“Considering how the rest of my day has gone, I just feel thrilled to have gotten home. Thank you so much.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Speaking of which … all of this talk of food has made me hungry. I mean, not for duck fetuses or anything, but I haven’t eaten all day. Let me buy you dinner?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“I insist,” she said. “And I won’t take no for an answer. My friends and I had planned to go to a little restaurant up the road from here. The one with the red sign and purple letters.”
“Romdeng,” he said. “I love that place.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” She clapped her hands. “I’ll go round up my friends, and we’ll meet you back here. Say half an hour?”
“Sure.”
Carla smiled at him, and then headed down the road toward her hotel. He watched her disappear, chuckling to himself. For definite, he hadn’t expected his day to go this way, but it gave him a pleasant surprise, all the same.
It gave a nice distraction. As a rule, he avoided tourists. He’d met his fair share of criminals out here, hiding from their past or trying to find some way to satisfy their unsettling urges. Most people he’d met that came here either arrived completely clueless about what they had gotten themselves into or they knew exactly what they were doing and fell into the less savory category of individuals.
Plus, he liked to keep to himself. Carla seemed like a genuinely friendly person, though, and someone he could get along with. And, for certain, she didn’t fall into his oversimplified categories of tourists.
Her friends, though, he felt less sure about. He doubted all of them would prove as friendly or outgoing as Carla. Still, he didn’t put himself above giving them the chance to prove him wrong, and he did love eating at Romdeng.
The establishment offered a sort of cook-your-own-food deal with a little dome pan with holes in it where you could cook your meat and vegetables. His favorite part was putting a nice little piece of beef fat on top and letting it sit there until it turned burnt and crispy.
It cost a lot, though, and usually fell outside his price range. This would, certainly, give a nice treat.
Matt walked down the street towar
d his apartment with an extra bounce in his step. This had, supposedly, started out as a laid-back day for him, just heading to the market to keep busy, but now he would go and get a nice dinner and some Western company. Of young women, too.
He had just turned thirty, and estimated these girls to be a few years younger than himself if they proved the same age as Carla. He admitted to himself, at least partially, how excited he felt to see young women not native to Cambodia. He thought Cambodian women beautiful, but he just found something pleasant about seeing something exotic.
He laughed at himself: he’d stayed here long enough that Caucasian women seemed exotic, now.
Matt would check in on his church after getting ready for dinner. He would only need a couple of minutes to prepare. A fresh shirt and some cologne and he would be ready for just about anything.
The church almost always stood empty this time of day, and he probably wouldn’t see anyone passing through until the weekend service.
Sometimes, Matt handled the service himself—though not a priest, he practiced as a Deacon back home at his family church and knew enough scripture to handle some short services—and, occasionally, he managed to entice priests to come visit the country for a few weeks or months and take over the parish.
A few months usually proved all he could get, and the turnout never seemed tremendous. Often, priests would come for a while and then go on their way. Only he got left living here.
He felt distracted as he walked down the road, and a man bumped into him, nearly knocking him over. The man had olive skin and a shaved head. He wore loose-fitting black clothes and had a plain face.
“I’m so sorry,” he man said, reaching out and catching Matt before he could fall. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Matt said, a little annoyed that he’d let himself get so distracted. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The man nodded at him, and then headed down the street. He had something a little unsettling about him, but Matt brushed it off. Right away, this man fell into Matt’s less savory category of tourists.
He brushed the encounter away and, instead, focused on Carla and dinner. He headed down the road toward his home with a renewed bounce in his step.
