Holiday in Cambodia

by Laura Jean McKay

  ‘Is he a … a doctor?’ asked Susan from Australia. The man opened his whole mouth in a silent toothless laugh and began a long singing prayer. Susan from Australia glanced at her grand-aunt. Yanie stared back. The girl closed her eyes and stayed still but for her left knee, which wouldn’t stop jiggling. When the man had finished he waited patiently for Sida to bring him a bag of food. Then the man and the neighbour edged back down the stairs and Yanie went to stand by the window.

  ‘Well?’ she heard the neighbour say once they were out by the pond.

  ‘She’s not dead. But she’s not alive either,’ answered the old man.

  That night while Sida slept, Susan from Australia sobbed through the wall. What was in her was trying to come out. Duck’s wings beating at her soul. Out in the yard the moonlight caught the Ting Mong’s face. The skirt was itchy with grass. The gun heavy and cold. Susan was crying into her pillow and didn’t hear the door open. She saw the Ting Mong standing over her with the gun and the sound died in her throat.

  ‘You have to promise not to eat any babies,’ said the Ting Mong. Susan from Australia coughed.

  ‘Not to …?’

  ‘Eat babies. Or spit on people. Okay? And you can’t die, either.’

  Susan from Australia reached out with her tongue to catch a tear before it rolled down her chin. She scratched at the punctures down her arm and nodded.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Susan from Australia. Outside it was bright like a drug coming on but the neighbour’s house cast deep shadows, which they walked right into. Out of the shadows came growls. The dogs came forward and wagged their tales and bounced up the stairs to lick the Ting Mong’s hand as it opened the door.

  ‘It’s not locked?’ whispered Susan from Australia.

  ‘Why lock it? This is a nice village.’ The Ting Mong gestured Susan from Australia inside with the gun. The neighbour was asleep on her back on a bamboo platform in the living room. She was lit by the muted TV, where the man and the woman were drawing water together from a stream and laughing. The Ting Mong pointed the gun at the neighbour’s snoring mouth and tapped her cheek. The neighbour woke and squeaked like a rat.

  ‘Son?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m Ting Mong!’ The neighbour glanced over at Susan, who was scratching her arm and looking over her shoulder at the door. ‘I’m Ting Mong!’ It sounded good. As though she was a man and a woman at the same time. The neighbour nodded and gripped her chest. The TV flickered blue behind the Ting Mong, flooding its plate face and bulky chest in shadow.

  ‘What … what do you want?’ The neighbour’s voice quivered unusually. Sida always said it was good to enjoy things but not so much that you broke them. If they broke the neighbour, there would be a problem.

  ‘I want you to leave Susan from Australia alone.’

  The neighbour looked over at Susan from Australia – the blue light on the girl’s big dead face and eyes.

  ‘But she’s an Ap spirit. A vampire,’ the neighbour whispered, lifting her head.

  ‘No!’ boomed the Ting Mong and the neighbour fell back against the mat and blinked fearfully. ‘If she was an Ap, don’t you think I would have killed her?’

  The Ting Mong had both a point and a gun. The neighbour cleared her throat.

  ‘Well … what about the egg? Another Ap will come for it. We have to work together, you know, as a community. To protect the children. Remember what happened to my cousin’s daughter, Sopea? She drank –’

  ‘You’re right,’ boomed the Ting Mong and lifted the gun away from the neighbour, who perched up on her elbows.

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘Susan from Australia,’ the Ting Mong ordered. ‘Get the … thing.’ Susan from Australia glanced around with startled eyes, then lowered them and sighed an old sigh. Out of the pocket of her cargo pants she pulled a plastic packet with a new syringe inside.

  In the morning Susan from Australia ate some of her rice and pork and there were dabs of colour in her face. A shimmer of light in the dull pool of her eyes. The neighbour didn’t get up until late in the morning. When she did she peered under the house and saw three women: one with a long, old neck, one with a scar on her face and one young one. The Ting Mong was missing from the yard.

  Sida went out to the kaffir lime bush by the front gate and called back, ‘Yanie, did you put more blood in the jar?’ Yanie’s scar shortened when she smiled. The gap where Susan from Australia’s tooth should have been showed. Sida glanced at them curiously as she went past and up the stairs to her bedroom overlooking the backyard. ‘Yanie, Susan, come and look at the egg!’

  It was broken. A crow dipped its beak into the runny yellow and pulled something from inside, then stretched its wings and with a jump and a downward flap, flew away. Sida went to change her clothes and write some emails and start the lunch, but Yanie and Susan from Australia stayed and watched the broken egg until the sun was high above the papayas and Sida told them to come away from the window. That was enough watching.

  IF YOU SAY IT, IT MUST BE TRUE

  The bathroom was orange and tiled and cleanish and needed a plant. There was pink soap in a packet on the basin. Anna sat on the toilet and sniffed the soap through the plastic. Very cheap. She should have brought her own. Or bought some in transit at Kuala Lumpur. The bathroom was alright otherwise though. The loo flushed properly and the shower mounted on the wall didn’t stick over the toilet but held its own sort of space in the corner near an uncovered drain hole just big enough for a rat’s head. Anna watched that hole as she peed. When she came out, Ray was lying on the bed in a towel, facing the grey TV. Anna heaved the suitcase up beside him.

  ‘Got something special in there?’ he asked.

  ‘Like what? Chocolate?’ She didn’t unzip the case but stood next to it and let her arms rise and fall by her sides.

  ‘Been a long time,’ Ray said, watching her.

  ‘Since what?’ There was a beat-up tourist guide to Phnom Penh on the small table, next to a wooden statue of two snub-nosed dolphins kissing. Anna sat down on the chair beside it and began to leaf through what seemed like a collection of advertisements – mostly for girlie bars, beer and bus tickets.

  ‘Since we were alone together.’ Ray smiled at his wife.

  ‘We went camping in April, remember? It was freezing.’

  ‘We had the kids. And Mary and Keith.’

  ‘But we were in our own tent.’

  ‘Right.’ Ray’s smile fell into a sigh. ‘But before that. When did we last do this, just the two of us?’ Anna looked at him and realised that she’d finished her book on the plane and had no others. Ray nodded as though she’d said something. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he continued.

  ‘What about that bed and breakfast for Karen’s wedding when the kids stayed with Mum and Dad?’ Anna remembered. ‘We were alone then.’

  ‘Okay, that was two years ago.’ Ray was getting snappy so Anna shrugged and nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Ray stretched out the full length of the bed. His towel came undone, revealing damp hair sketched over a pale thigh. ‘It has been absolutely ages.’ Anna found the section on places to eat and waved them at him.

  ‘We could have Italian tonight. Or Mexican.’

  Ray sat up on his elbows.

  ‘We’re in Cambodia.’

  ‘My stomach’s still weird,’ Anna said, dropping the book to her lap.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Ray said, that we could get a cheap meal, Anna thought, ‘that we could go out and have a nice meal in a nice local place overlooking the river and then come back, have an early night and have sex together.’ Anna flicked through the guide for things to do. The Royal Palace, the Temple, the Genocide Museum. Her husband watched her from the bed.

  ‘Together, huh?’ she said finally and swallowed. ‘Well, who else would you have sex with?’
/>   ‘My hand?’ Ray shot. ‘Maybe a magazine if I’m lucky.’

  ‘That’s disgusting.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s degrading.’

  ‘It is degrading going to bed with someone every night and not having sex, yes.’

  ‘You want to be having sex every night now …?’

  ‘No, I want to be having sex tonight. With you. When was the last time we did that?’

  ‘My birthday!’ Anna shouted.

  ‘Five months ago!’

  Anna remembered. She had been drunk on wine. She’d taken all her clothes off and felt new. She’d said, ‘What do you think of this, then?’ and he’d said, ‘I like it, I like it.’ She didn’t pretend he was someone else but someone different. ‘What is it?’ he asked more gently now. ‘Is there something wrong?’ Anna shook her head. ‘I mean, down there?’

  ‘I’m only forty-one. I’m not decrepit.’

  ‘Well what the hell is it then, Anna? You tell me because seriously, I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s nothing. It’s just …’ Ray sat up further to show he was listening. ‘All couples get to this stage. Mary and Keith …’ Anna trailed off.

  ‘Oh, don’t talk about them,’ Ray said, flopping back on the bed. Anna could see the dim curve of his ball sack against his thigh and wanted to cover it.

  ‘What’s wrong with Mary and Keith?’ she asked instead.

  ‘Mary’s been mental since she had Jasper, and Keith spends all his time in his study and I can tell you he’s not doing accounting in there.’

  ‘Oh, you’re disgusting.’

  ‘I’m telling you he’s shown me.’

  ‘You and Keith sit in there watching porn while Mary and I are downstairs?’

  ‘Not me. Keith!’

  ‘And you didn’t look?’

  ‘Well, I’m a man, aren’t I?’

  ‘We should call the kids.’

  ‘Don’t change the subject.’ He was really yelling now. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘I just don’t happen to think that watching films that degrade women is very manly, that’s all.’

  ‘Right, well that would explain a few things,’ said Ray. His smile looked sore. ‘You can be a bit prudish about sex, Ann.’

  ‘I think we both know I’m not. I can tell you –’

  ‘Prove it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Prove it to me. Make me remember. Let’s do it now.’

  Anna sighed. ‘Ray.’

  ‘What? Come on.’ He patted the bed beside him.

  ‘Ray. I’m not …’ Anna stopped and stared at the imprint his hand had left on the faded quilt. The bed was so big they could both have lain there spread like eagles and never touched. ‘I need a shower and then maybe I could eat …’ she continued. ‘Let’s go out now, let’s call Mum and Dad and the kids and then we can go out and eat and look around and then we’ll come back and have an early night. ’Kay?’ she smiled. Ray nodded slowly.

  It was dim outside, and hot. Ray pointed his camera at tuk tuk drivers and street vendors, at old women crouched in the gutters with checked cloths wrapped around their heads. Anna thought about buying corn but got worried about the water it was boiled in. Ray took photos of her. By the time they settled on a Thai/Cambodian place, Anna’s stomach had calmed. Ray asked her how she liked it and squeezed and patted her hand when she tried some of his curried fish amok. Then it was really dark and they caught a tuk tuk through the half-lit streets towards their hotel. Ray said he couldn’t wait to get into bed. They turned up a street lively with bars and Ray raised his face to the smell of a barbeque with rows of cubed pork on sticks and the biting smell of exhaust mixed with the sweet sewer smell. And the beer. The smell of beer.

  ‘Let’s stop in for a drink,’ he said suddenly. Anna agreed and they gave each other a surprised smile. ‘Here?’

  Anna frowned. ‘We’re not going to a bar called 69ers, Ray …’

  ‘Why not? It could spice up …’ Anna looked at him. ‘Okay. There?’ Anna peered from their slow-moving tuk tuk. It was a giant place a quarter filled, mostly with locals, who sat under bunting advertisements for various beers.

  ‘Good place?’ Ray yelled at the tuk tuk driver, who nodded and smiled. ‘You go there?’ Ray asked. The driver shook his head.

  ‘Ray, that place has beer girls.’ Ray’s face furrowed. ‘Well, you’re the one who told me that they’re exploited or something. What about there?’ She gestured quickly to a small bar where a few Westerners were marooned on big cushions inside. Ray sighed and tried to pay the driver but he parked and said he’d wait.

  ‘Oh! They have Heineken,’ said Anna, ‘I’ll have that.’

  ‘You’re drinking beer?’

  ‘Well, when in Cambodia,’ she said so cheerily that Ray grinned and ordered an Angkor.

  ‘My country, my beer,’ he quoted from the ads to the waitress. She moved away to tell the other staff and they smiled and nodded over at him. Anna stared at her husband. His grin included the whole bar. A moment later the waitress was back with the opened and mostly cold beers. She lingered by Ray.

  ‘My country, your beer,’ she burst out laughing and Ray hooted. Anna looked out through the open entry-way to the street. The tuk tuk driver was in his carriage, listening to a radio with another man. A group of young women with Australian accents pulled up next to him on bicycles. Their makeup glistened in the heat but they were pretty, Anna thought, with long legs that you could see a lot of. She glanced at Ray to see if he had seen them but he was focused on the waitress.

  ‘How did you learn to speak English so well if you didn’t study?’ he was asking.

  ‘Not so well. I just learned it from the customers.’

  ‘So you’re smart,’ Ray smiled, but it was different from the way he smiled at Anna. It was the smile of a man alone.

  ‘Not so smart!’ the waitress protested. She was smiling too.

  ‘Sure you are. Would you like to study?’

  ‘Yes but,’ the waitress lowered her voice, ‘my family is poor. So I can’t afford to study anymore.’

  ‘Do you live with your family?’

  ‘Ray!’ Anna protested. He looked surprised to see her. ‘That’s a bit personal, isn’t it? Sorry,’ she said to the waitress.

  ‘No problem, no problem,’ she answered, shining her eyes at Anna. She’s not pretty, Anna thought, she’s completely beautiful. Anna glanced at the pimply waitress lingering by the counter, who caught her eye and beamed an uneven smile. ‘Yes, I live with my grandmother and my father and my sisters and brother but my mother died.’

  ‘From the Khmer Rouge?’ Ray questioned.

  ‘She’s too young, Ray.’

  ‘After that,’ the waitress agreed. ‘Sick from her stomach.’ The waitress pointed to her tiny waist. ‘But my grandfather died from Pol Pot.’

  ‘Tortured,’ Ray stated. The waitress didn’t know the word.

  ‘He died from no food,’ she said. ‘Many people died from no food.’ The chips that Ray had ordered arrived.

  ‘We should help that girl,’ Ray said once they were outside and waving at the tuk tuk driver. Anna wasn’t used to beer and felt the carriage sway as they clambered in and sat opposite each other.

  ‘What girl?’ she looked around as they moved off and saw only a po-faced woman on a motorbike. Two kids approached them with a basket of books but the traffic moved on. ‘What girl?’

  ‘The waitress. Srey Part.’

  ‘Ray …’

  ‘One hundred and fifty bucks and she could do an English course and get a better job. Better than giving it to a charity who’ll take half, right?’

  ‘Ray …’

  ‘What?’ he looked up from his camera screen and the half dozen snaps he’
d taken of Srey Part. His face was heavy with beer.

  ‘It’s none of our business,’ she replied finally.

  ‘What isn’t?’

  ‘That girl and her life.’ Ray mumbled something that Anna didn’t hear over the engine.

  ‘I said we’re here in Cambodia, so it is our business,’ he repeated loudly. ‘Imagine if every tourist helped one person –’

  ‘Then about an eighth of the population would be helped and I bet I know which eighth it’d be,’ Anna replied. Ray raised his thick eyebrows. ‘I just think it’s interesting you didn’t want to help the other girl.’

  ‘What other girl?’

  ‘Exactly. The ugly one in the corner. What, you didn’t notice her? I’m sure she’d like to go to uni too.’

  ‘Well great, we’ll help them both, we’ll help them all, we’ll help Mr Lim here too,’ Ray shouted, flinging his arms. The tuk tuk driver glanced in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Tell you what, I’ll give some money to Srey Part, you can give some money to … what was her name?’ Anna shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him. ‘Oh you don’t know her name?’ Ray continued. ‘I see …’

  Anna showered and took her time moving the pink soap over her body. Making the water hot – it felt cleaner – then a blast of cold. When she came out in underpants and a T-shirt, Ray was naked on the bed.