“Damn, that’s weird.”
“That’s what this city is like. There’s no rhyme or reason. People throw up whatever buildings they want. It means that it’s more than just the people that are diverse.”
“And yet I can’t chew gum here,” he says. Dania gives him a slug in the side.
Turning another corner, Steven can’t help but admire how different all of the buildings look. Back in Toronto, they would all have essentially the same shape but different storefronts. Here, he is amazed by the changing outline of every block.
“Hungry?” Dania asks, reading his mind or perhaps hearing his stomach rumble. She points across the street to a dark red building with two tall spikes jutting out of the top in opposite directions. One spike faces east, the other west, like arrows about to be shot into the distance.
“That’s interesting,” he says. “Is that a restaurant?”
“It’s Minang.”
“Mine-wha?”
“Minang. Minangkabau. Let’s eat there. You’ll love it.”
“Alright,” he says, and lets her lead him across the street. He is still amazed by the grip this woman has. Such a thin woman, yet her hands are almost as strong as his. She pulls him by the arm, and he has no choice but to follow.
Inside the restaurant, the two of them are greeted by a young woman dressed in a long red gown. She wears a headdress that looks just like the roof of the building, with two long spikes sticking diagonally upward and sideways. She is very polite as she takes them to their table.
“Do you trust me?” Dania asks. It’s a question that Steven would answer “no” to when most people ask it. But, for some reason, he feels okay this time around. “To order food for us, I mean?”
“Of course,” he lies. He’s certain his stomach is going to hate every part of what he’s about to do to it. And the spices in the air tell him he’s going to be no good at his job for at least a few days when he returns.
When the waitress arrives, also wearing the tall headdress, Dania gives a very detailed order to her while Steven smiles and pretends to understand.
“You’re going to love this,” she says to him, and squeezes his hand. He smiles and decides that when in Rome . . .
She kisses him sweetly and, for another moment, Steven tries to forget the fact that he has cuddled up to his dead brother’s lover. Every so often, the reality of it comes smacking him in the face, and he wonders if he’s doing the right thing. He has a nagging feeling that he is not. Still, all of this feels too good for him to simply do nothing. He knows how he feels when he’s with Dania, so he tries to ignore that creeping sense of doom in the back of his mind. He reminds himself—much as it hurts to do so—that Scotty is gone. The only two people who should care at all are sitting together right now in this restaurant.
“What’s with the hat?” he asks, motioning at the red spikes everyone in the restaurant is wearing. It’s quite the elaborate uniform, and Steven is pretty sure he’s not the only person in there who is thankful that the place is heavily air-conditioned.
“On her head?” Dania nods toward the hostess at the front door, still easily visible from the table. “I told you, it’s Minangkabau.”
“And that means . . . ?”
Dania takes a sip of her water and rubs Steven’s hands in hers. “The Minang people are from Indonesia. The island of Sumatra. That’s what this place is. Indonesian food.”
“Okay, I’m with you so far.”
“Well,” she continues, “hundreds of years ago, their land was invaded by the Javanese—”
“—A ruthless band of coffeemakers.”
“Shhh.” She puts a hand over his mouth. “The Javanese prince wanted their land, where the locals farmed. For the Sumatrans, it was customary in those days to settle disputes with a bullfight. Water buffalo. But they did not fight with a man against a bull. It was two bulls fighting against one another.”
She takes another sip of her water while Steven tries to figure out the geography in his head and follow along. She brushes her long hair over her shoulders and out of her way.
“So, to keep their land and their homes, the Sumatrans challenged the prince to a bullfight. The prince was known to have the biggest, meanest bull that had ever been challenged. He accepted the challenge without thinking twice. He knew that his bull was unbeatable.”
“Damn those princes and their unbeatable bulls.”
“The prince and his people returned a few days later with their prized bull. An enormous, angry water buffalo. They set him free in the arena, ready to kill the first challenging bull to enter. The Sumatrans released their bull into the ring. Everyone was shocked to find that they challenged him with a frail calf with little nubs instead of horns. This little bull that sheepishly walked into the ring.”
A plate of rice arrives, and Dania looks surprised. It’s as if she has just been caught telling a secret. The waitress smiles and disappears again, back into the kitchen. Dania leans in closer to Steven.
“Well,” she says, “the prince and the Javanese people all laughed. This puny calf was no match for his great buffalo. Even their bull seemed unimpressed. Follow me?”
“Edge of my seat.”
“What no one knew was that the Sumatrans had starved the little calf for two days. And those little nubs it had for horns? They had sharpened them until they were like little daggers on the top of its head. So when they released the little calf into the ring, it was so hungry for milk that it mistook the big bull for its mother. It ran up to the big buffalo and ducked under its belly, looking for an udder it could suck on. Those razor-sharp horns tore out the big bull’s stomach and killed it.”
“How very clever.”
“Clever, yes.” Dania takes a sip of her water. “The Sumatran people ran into the arena cheering and applauding. They yelled, ‘Minang kabau! Minang kabau!’ ”
“Which means?”
“The bull wins,” she says, and smiles as if she is very proud of herself. As if she wrote the story herself and just told it for the first time.
“Hence the pointy hats.”
“Horns.”
Steven leans in to kiss her and, as he does, more food arrives. There is a mix of noodles and rice and meat and all things spicy. If he were looking for calm, boring, bland food, he came to the wrong place. He wonders if he has Pepto Bismol in his suitcase back at the hotel.
“Oh, God,” Dania says, and leans over the plates. “This is going to be good. You just wait.”
It’s then that she leans across the table and takes a handful of rice. She doesn’t use a spoon or a knife or even the chopsticks on the table. She actually reaches with her hands and scoops the food from the serving dish to her plate. Steven watches in wide-eyed horror as she repeats this process with each serving tray and each item of food she has ordered them.
“Bon appétit,” she says with her sexy smile that Steven suddenly doesn’t find so sexy. A thick sauce puddles on her plate, and she takes a handful of rice, rubs it through the sauce, and then scoops it all into her mouth.
“What the hell?” Steven says, staring with his mouth open.
“What?” Dania asks through mouthfuls.
“Are you seriously going to eat that with your hands?”
“Yeah, that’s how we do it here.”
“That’s a”—he tries to remember the name—“Minang thing or something?”
“No, it’s a Singaporean thing.”
“Really?”
“Well, not over where you’re staying. But this is how the locals eat.”
“With their hands?”
“Yes, try it.”
“I don’t think so,” Steven says, and picks up a pair of chopsticks.
“Oh, come on. Live a little.”
“Oh, I’m living,” Steven says, and remembers again whom he is with and how he met her. He wonders if Scotty ate with his hands. Then he dismisses that thought because he doesn’t want to think about Scotty right now. Besides, he’s certain that’s e
xactly how Scotty ate. It seems like something he would have liked very much.
“Eat with your chopsticks then, little bull,” Dania says, and winks. “I will eat like a big buffalo.”
Steven holds the chopsticks up to his head as if they are horns. He makes a snorting sound that makes Dania laugh and almost choke on her food. She sips her water. It’s so loud, it reminds him of the man sitting behind him on the plane a couple of days ago. He wonders if everyone in Singapore is so noisy when they eat. If not for the smile on her face, he knows his misophonia would drive him to get up and run out of the restaurant.
He’s not sure if, back in Toronto, he’d be madly in love with Dania or appalled by her. Anyone else smacking her lips and scarfing her food the way she does would bring out the worst in him. Something about Dania’s doing it makes it a little easier for Steven to tolerate it. He thinks he must really be smitten to sit here and take it. He tries to remember if he felt the same way in the beginning with Robin. He also wonders if years of listening to Dania eating like this would wind up making him resent her, as well.
“Tell me more,” he says.
“More what?”
“More anything.”
“What do you want to know?” She smiles and shovels more rice into her face with her bare hands.
“Tell me everything. Tell me all about you.”
“Oh, honey.” She smiles and winks at him. “I so wish there was more to tell. The bull story is the best I’ve got.”
As he digs his chopsticks into his food, Steven is hit in the face with the spiciness of it all. He’s had spicy food before, but this is something new to him. It’s not the clean intensity of the wasabi he lightly pats on his sushi back home. It’s also not as simple as the peppery Thai food that Robin always loved to order in. This is hot and peppery and burns the tip of his tongue right down to his lower intestine. It’s overwhelming and delicious. He stirs more rice into the meal in order to cut the heat a little bit. He knows he’ll need more than a couple of refills of water. Dania sees all of this play out on his face and winks.
He looks at the way she smiles at him and can’t help but wonder what she sees in him. It’s not that he doesn’t think he’s a good man or that a woman shouldn’t like his company. In fact, he knows that many would consider him quite the catch. But if this woman was so in love with Scotty—and Scotty was so different than Steven—what is it she’s so attracted to if not just the familiar face? Could it really be as simple as Tony Bennett?
He puts that thought out of his head for as long as he can and just enjoys himself. Still, as much of himself and his life story as he shares with Dania, he realizes how little he knows about her. The bits and pieces he puts together only tell him so much. He can tell that, as affectionate as she is, she is keeping him at a distance. If it’s to keep him away, it doesn’t work. Instead, it probably makes him want her that much more.
Dania slurps up a handful of food, and Steven lets his eyes linger over her figure for a moment as an easy distraction. He tries to hear the music in the background instead and listens for a rattling air conditioner that might save his panicked ears. Then he looks back over at her and she’s grinning, knowing exactly what she’s doing to him and having fun with it. He laughs despite himself and reaches for more water. And then more water.
Steven realizes that, if she were to ask him right then and there, he’d probably give Dania the fifteen thousand dollars. He imagines that’s what Scotty had in mind all along. If a woman like Dania isn’t worth that kind of money, then what on earth could Scotty possibly have needed it for? He didn’t want a car, didn’t need it for rent. Steven figures she’s worth that much just for him to have this time with her.
It’s a price he would gladly pay.
He knows he should look for the better in people. But he can’t help it. He keeps wondering how long it will be before she turns to him and asks him to pay it.
13
Steven has a bit of a skip in his step as he practically bounces through the front door of his hotel. Despite the sweat rolling down his back, he thinks nothing of the heat and, for the first time since he arrived, he finds the Christmas decorations in the hotel lobby to be cute instead of tacky.
“Mr. Steven!” A familiar voice greets him as he steps through the automatic doors. Still dressed as Santa Claus, Steven’s favorite doorman is obviously smiling hugely from underneath his fake white beard.
“Good afternoon, Lee,” Steven replies without taking off his aviators. “Getting out of the heat?”
“Yes, sir.” Lee smiles. “Very good, sir. Anything you need?”
Without breaking his stride, Steven continues through the lobby, calling to Lee over his shoulder, “Everything is great, Lee. Just great.”
And everything is great. Regardless of the fact that he’s in the middle of what is actually a very tricky situation, Steven feels just fine. Despite having just lost his brother, having been dumped, and having gotten involved with his brother’s lover whom he has to leave for good in a couple of days, all is well. In fact, for the first time since long before Scotty died, Steven thinks his smile is genuine.
“Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” is playing over the speakers in the hotel, and Steven finds himself humming along. That Christmas spirit seems to have finally hit him. It’s odd that, when he hears the music this time, he’s not homesick at all.
He always feels a little depressed when the season comes and goes. The week leading up to Christmas is always great, with everything from the music to the feel in the air to make him happy. By the time January rolls around, he often finds himself in a bit of a funk that’s hard to get out of until February.
It’s not that he simply loves Christmas that much. Just like everyone else, he can get tired of all the festive hoopla. It just seems to be the one time of year when he doesn’t have other things to worry about. His restaurant is booming in December, and the work is easy. All the stresses that come with relationships go away and, for years, it was the only chance he ever got to see or really speak to Scotty. And, for just six brief weeks per year, it’s a time when background noise doesn’t make him crazy. Something about the classic sounds of the season in the air drowns out all of the mayhem he normally hears every day. And something about people’s good nature during that time of the year makes him a little smoother around the edges, as well.
Stepping out of the elevator and walking to his room, Steven wonders if he can curb his schoolboy crush long enough to take a nap. Running around with Dania all morning and afternoon was exhausting, not to mention the fact that she kept him awake and drunk most of the previous night. It’s finally starting to catch up with him, and he figures he’s due for at least a couple of hours of rest while she is off rehearsing with her band and setting up for her gig later that night.
As he puts his key card in the slot, he gets a weird feeling at the back of his neck. The “Do Not Disturb” sign is no longer hanging on the doorknob. He was sure it was there when he left with Dania earlier that morning. When he opens the door, his room is immaculate and clean. As great as that is, he was perfectly content to leave everything unmade.
He looks around just to make sure everything is in order. His blazers are hung perfectly, and his shoes are in the right spot. He tips an imaginary hat at Scotty’s ashes, still in their paper bags, resting inside the box his remains came in.
Screw you, man, Scotty’s ashes say.
“Right back atcha,” Steven says back to the ashes.
He sits at the desk and switches on his laptop. After spending a few brief moments reading about nothing going on back home, he sends off a few e-mails and then checks to make certain he’s not missing anything at work. As luck would have it, the walls still stand, the wine has all been ordered, and the place has not exploded or burned to the ground in his absence—all good things, indeed.
Just for the hell of it, he Googles “Orchard Towers.” There he immediately finds photos and—even on this Web site—the des
cription “Four Floors of Whores.” He sees much more excitement on this Web site than he did at the actual place, which makes him wonder if he was there on a slow night. According to Wikipedia, Orchard Towers is home to not only prostitutes, but international prostitutes from all over the world. Russian hookers, Chinese hookers, and—yes—even just run-of-the-mill local Singaporean hookers.
He does some more reading to find that there are many bands just like Dania’s that play in the Towers. There is also a ton of local food, all kinds of bars, more hookers and some drug dealers, as well as transvestites, beggars, and thieves. All in all, it makes for what no one would consider a great family tourist location.
Glad you had a good time seducing my girlfriend. Scotty’s ashes are pouting on the other side of the room.
“Remember Gina St. John?” Steven asks, the memory of an old college girlfriend still fresh in his mind. Scotty seduced her after she lost interest in Steven.
Touché. Scotty shuts up after that. Steven smiles and goes back to searching the Web.
He thinks of Dania and her singing. She’s really quite good and, although there were many people watching her sing, she is miles better than the place where she works. He wonders if The Cocktail Room is as good as it gets in Singapore City, or if there are better, classier places where she could be working. Then he figures that maybe, like many other musicians, she’s just happy to have any work at all.
He closes his laptop and goes over to the bed to lie down. As he takes off his shoes, he looks over on the nightstand at the stack of belongings housekeeping had neatly set aside. There are Scotty’s notes and random photos, pictures of their parents that Steven took, and Steven’s random receipts from the past few days. He stops for a second and looks through them. It’s then that the warning bells go off in his head.
The photo of the boy is missing.
Steven flips through the stack of papers and photos one more time, although he knows he didn’t miss anything. He never makes mistakes like that and keeps everything in perfect order. No, the photo simply is not there. He looks under the bed and finds nothing. In fact, the bed goes straight to the floor, so there’s no way to hide anything there anyway. He looks in the nightstand drawer, then the desk, and then—just because he hasn’t looked there yet—the bathroom. Nothing. The photo isn’t tucked into anything like his suitcase. It’s not on top of the TV or next to the cardboard box containing Scotty’s bag of ashes. It’s simply gone.
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