Joss and Gold

Ten

Ten A new Heruy waited fa, he< each morning and dmve her to the university. He picked her up promptly at noon for lunch, and even followed her in the evenings to visit Ellen. In Henry's watchful company, Ellen sat in front of the television glumly most of the time instead of joking around as she usually did with Li An. Professor Forster had shamed Henry into recognizing his duty to Li An. He had accepted a one-year position as a lecturer in the biology department, and then they would leave for the sophisticated freedom of Baden-Baden, where she would not feel so confined. In the meantime, it was his duty to lessen the constraints of a narrow academic life, to entertain her and occupy her hours. Besides, he was writing up the results of his experiments. He did not enjoy writing, and could only write in his office for a limited time. He tired easily when he had to fumble with words to shape them into sentences. They fell into awkward masses that he had to worry over and reform. "I wish you could do the writing for me," he said, jokingly. She had begun to write again, but in a desultory manner. She tried to begin a daily journal. 1 May Read Cranshaw. Am getting more interested in Puritan literature . Jane Austen novels too much fiction, worse than True CROSSING Romances. No happy-ever-after except perhaps in next life. Very hot today. Lunch with Henry at Maxim's. Papers still full of bad news. 2 May Tired of English literature. Puritan ideal of new kingdom of God on Plymouth Rock something to think about. Is this what Abdullah means by country for Islam? Ironic history-difference between city on a hill and America after Watts riots, King assassination. Malaysia too tolerant for American-style violence . Visited Auntie with Henry. She's expecting Ah Pah back next week. 3 May A writer's journal is supposed to be more interesting than this. Can't be a writer when life is so boring. Still very hot today. It's always very hot in Kuala Lumpur, why am I making a note of it? I don't even have weather to write about. Mornings clear, increasing heat and humidity through the day, thundershowers in the late afternoon, clearing by evening, clear skies at night. A daily journal. More interesting reading in the newspapers. Lots of political reporting. Everyone wants his piece of the cake. Problem is it's the same piece of cake; someone's got to lose. Or so the papers say. Is this true of life? My life? What's my piece of cake? Am I winning or losing? 5 May Have to take the journal more seriously. Haven't written in almost two days. Surely there must be something to write about! Hard to take anything seriously when it's so hot. Stayed in bedroom all day with air-conditioning going full blast. Something's wrong with me-I'm not depressed am I? USIS books overdue , haven't read two of them. Tried to write a poem following Williams's variable foot. Chester's suggestion to read American poetry. Doesn't sound like me. But nothing I've written sounds like me-whiny, petty, dissatisfied. Poetry already too grand, fine attitudes. How to write a good whiny poem? Maybe I should be a journalist like Abdullah. Poetry is for people who know something. No wonder I'm depressed. 73 JOSS and GOLD 6 May Returned books to USIS. Don't like riding in KL anymore. It's crowded and dangerous, buses smoking carbon monoxide in huge clouds, taxis pushing you into the drains, pedestri~ ans jumping at you from hidden corners. Wonder if it'll become as bad as Bangkok? I'd run away. Strange to be in USIS library without Chester. First time. Place looked deserted, drea~ ry. His loud voice makes everything cheerful. The library is dull, feel of heavy novels, Time, Newsweek, reference books. Strange, it has Malaysian staff dealing with the public. The Americans stay to themselves-I can see them in the offices behind the glass doors. So unlike Chester. I think I see him everywhere. It's the Peace Corps mentality, he tells me, to be out with the local people. 7 May It's Thursday. Ran into him in the lounge. He wanted to know what happened. I think he misses me. Told him I was work~ ing on my writing-he thinks it's my thesis on seventeenth~ century religious poetry. Ifonly he knew this journal is it! Had lunch with Henry at Bistro. I hate the Bistro. Told Henry I should spend some time alone with Ellen. After all, our friendship goes further back than Henry. He's being very kind. Papers going on about elections. Everyone's talking about it. Even the department head made some comment in passing, something about having to be sensitive to everyone's point of view. Of course, he's so high up he can see everyone's point of view clearly. I'm confused. Are the Chinese not true Malaysians? Is the problem that we are not Malays? Maybe Gina was right after all. Maybe everyone should marry Malay. Then we'll all be one people. But I can't imagine Henry mar~ ried to a Malay girl, he's such a China~type! 8 May Friday. Chester called the department, wants to know why I'm avoiding him. I'm so impatient with him. I don't think he sees me as a woman. I told him I'm married and Henry doesn't like me going out with other men. Perhaps that will shock him into 74 CROSSING some understanding. Peace Corps men are like modern-day monks, poverty and no idea ofwomen. Henry is right, he's always right. I have to be careful around Chester, otherwise something stupid will happen. Chester wants to talk about us. I know Henry won't like my meeting him. Maybe we can talk in Ellen's house. In front of Ellen. She'll keep things straight. 12 May Exciting Tuesday. Elections today. Looks like some victory for our side. Our side? Here I am, didn't vote, but I have a side, know which is my piece of cake. Henry wants to go to a party tomorrow to celebrate with his biology friends. Why is he so political suddenly? Seems to me that everyone is so political suddenly, everyone's talking about this right and that right, everyone in the lounge and along the corridor. Buzz, buzz, like red ants, very excited, marching around with rumors. Too much is happening. I haven't been reading for a week, except the newspapers. Even Auntie started talking to Ah Pah about politics on Sunday. All this talk about Chinese rights makes me sick too. Malay rights, Chinese rights. No one talks about Malaysian rights. I am a Malaysian. I don't exist. "You go to the party by yourself," Li An said. "Ellen wants to talk to me about switching jobs again." She was only half lying. She had run into Chester in the lounge. This time he appeared to have been waiting for her. She knew she shouldn't have accepted his invitation, but it was as if the hysteria of the elections had touched her. Chester also seemed more nervous than usuaL He kept pulling his long hair off his face and twisting it at the back into a knot that immediately unraveled. "Couldn't we just talk? Abdullah and Samad are up to their necks with the election news, and I'm getting homesick. Maybe it's just the one-year mark. I've been warned about it. After the first year the Peace Corps gets a whole lot of dropouts. Like your system can't take all that foreignness anymore . I'm even dreaming of myoId high school, like I miss it! I'm in bad shape." His laugh was nervous. She called Ellen at work from the lounge. 75 JOSS and GOLD "Now you want me to entertain your lover boy? All right. I'll be home by five-thirty. You want a chaperon, but the harm is already done." Why did Ellen always have to be so brusque, she wondered. She wished she could confide in a caring mother, someone like Second Mrs. Yeh, not like her own mother, all wrapped up in her stepfather and second family. For months she had thought of Ellen and Chester as her best friends, but now she had too many secrets from them. Secrets about her feelings. Feelings separated people from each other, even whenor especially when-they were about the other person. Ellen with her witch's eyes had seen her feelings for Chester even before she was aware of them, but she still had to pretend with Ellen. She wasn't like Gina, who had shared her feelings with Ellen. Ellen would like her to do that, but it would be like being unfaithful to Chester. Or was it to Henry? Li An didn't want to leave the house before Henry did. She was afraid he would follow her to Ellen's house, even though she knew he would never stoop so low. His party began at six, and she had told Chester she would meet him at Ellen's at fivethirty . At five-fifteen she was ready to leave, but she waited for Henry to get into the shower before riding off. He was touched by her waiting and kept talking to her. Finally she reminded him, "It's 5:35. You'll be late for your party." Chester was sitting on the cement steps by the gate when she arrived. It was almost six, but Ellen's car wasn't there and the gate was padlocked. The ixora bushes that grew over the fence drooped over his head, and his feet were in a pile of large brown acacia leaves that the wind had blown neatly into the corner. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "Ellen said she'd be here by fivethirty , and she's never late." He was gloomy and good-natured at the same time. "That's all right. I'm accustomed to being left alone." He looked at her as if expecting her to do something about it. "What shall we do?" She pushed the Honda stand down and stared into the dark garden behind the locked gate. 76 CROSSING If only she had the key to Ellen's house! She could not ask Chester home-Letchmi might say something to Henry, and what if Henry was still at the house? He would suspect she had planned to bring Chester home as soon as he was gone. "We'll give her another ten minutes. Perhaps her car had a flat tire." His voice was mildly reasonable, while she felt a terrible fury against Ellen. Ellen, she was sure, had deliberately forgotten about them. Ellen was punishing her for liking Chester, just as she had wanted to punish Gina for liking Paroo. Ellen was drinking at some pub in Kuala Lumpur and had ordered another beer instead of leaving. A large green leaf fell from the overhanging acacia branch and landed at her feet. Chester did not rise from the steps. He reached for the leaf and fingered it, turning it back and forth in a relaxed manner. "Have you really been working on your writing?" His eyes were on the leaf. She couldn't lie to him. "I have to make a decision, whether to stay on in Kuala Lumpur," he said when she didn't reply. "Perhaps I'm not cut out for the Peace Corps. I know some volunteers who ask for a second two-year term. I met this couple at training camp who'd been to Lahore, a desert village. They were thin and burned brown. You'd think they were victims of a famine. But they were going back for a second term. They couldn't wait to go back to their village. She was teaching school, all ages, from kindergarten to grandmothers. He was helping the farmers find wells. Been digging for two years and found only a few wells. I thought I would be like them, teach and dig wells at the same time. That's why I volunteered for woodworking. You're doing something useful with your hands. Who knew no one would be interested in woodworking here?" He'd forgotten about waiting for Ellen. Li An saw he wanted someone to talk to. He needed a listener, and the steps before a locked gate, out in the night air, was as good a place for him as any. "I don't belong in this country." His voice was slowing down, as if he was running out of things to say. 77 JOSS and GOLD "Oh, go back to America!" She made herself sound hard and uncaring. Chester didn't seem to be listening. She searched the dark road for a sign of Ellen's car. There was no one in sight. The other houses were lit, but all their gates were closed. A television squawked from the next house. They could have been in a foreign country. He kept talking about having to decide soon. It got dark suddenly, and she couldn't see his face although he was only a few feet away. The scent of cooling leaves and ixora mixed with the night, forming a warm circle around her. She sat beside him on the steps. They were so narrow her head touched his shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Give me your keys. I'll give you some coffee at my place." All the way to his bungalow, she wondered if Abdullah and Samad would be home. The corner coffee shop was deserted, and the roads were dark and empty. She didn't stop to ask why. The desertion was like something she was imagining. Samad was home. He unlocked the iron gates and pulled them in hurriedly. "Why are you on the road? Are you crazy?" His face was unsmiling. "Don't you know there's a curfew? Lucky nothing happen to you." He looked at her with dislike. "What's she doing here?" He would talk only to Chester. "I brought her for some coffee." Chester put his arm around her shoulder lightly as if to excuse her. "What curfew?" She saw again the empty roads and locked gates. Samad wouldn't answer. "It's the elections, isn't it?" Chester asked. "Yah, those people threw pork in our people's backyards and started a lot of trouble." From the way Samad's eyes refused to meet hers she knew it was also her trouble. "She has to stay here for the night," Samad said to Chester. He sounded bitter. "But she cannot sleep in Abdullah's room." "What will I tell Henry? He'll be worrying about me!" Samad started up the stairs. "I'm going to my room," he said over his shoulder. "There's nothing I can do." 78 CROSSING She heard his door shut. Only Letchmi was home when she called. "Oh, Missy," she babbled, "you be careful! Master already call, say cannot come home. He also worry about you. I pray to Nataraja keep you safe." Chester remained cheerful. "The bed isn't too clean," he said as he brought her upstairs. "I never was good at laundry." And indeed the bed was unmade, the sheet had been pushed to the foot and was trailing on the floor. A saucer of cigarette stubs was on the floor, and a pile of paperbacks balanced by the crumpled pillow. "I'm going on the roof to check if anything can be seen." She followed him as he stood on a chair and pushed up through a small door in the ceiling and hoisted his body through. He clasped her hand and heaved her up like a sack of rice, and she lay with her arms and trunk on the flat roof, taking in the cool night air before scrambling to her feet. The roof was flat and without any railings. Although she was standing in the middle of its expanse, she was immediately swept by vertigo. She kept her eyes shut for a time. The air was cool but smoky. "Look," he said, his hand on her shoulder, "there's a glow over there. And I can see smoke." When she opened her eyes she saw that one side ofthe night sky was touched with orange. In the orange light tiny dark lines rose like drifting spider webs. They could hear nothing. The entire area of closely built row houses was silent. It seemed as if there was a blackout as well as a curfew. Everyone seemed to have turned off their lights, to have shut their doors like Samad, and disappeared. Chester was exhilarated. "It's a historic moment," he repeated. "Do you realize that? May thirteenth. We're seeing history before our eyes." All she saw was the black silent area of Petaling Jaya, the dim fire on the skyline, and webs of feathery smoke. Later she lay on his bed and wondered what she was feeling . The riots were the trouble predicted for after the elections . People like Abdullah had been expecting it. The Chinese could not win without trouble starting up, he had said. 79 JOSS and GOLD She hadn't expected anything. Perhaps, stubbornly, she had hoped that Abdullah was wrong, that elections could be won or lost without race, religion, language, the whole divisiveness of the country going off like strings of firecrackers. That smoke did not come from fireworks, she knew. Chester had given her a sarong to sleep in. She knotted it more securely around her chest, thinking, this is Chester's sarong. She couldn't keep the trouble in her mind. Her heart was beating very fast right under the sarong knot, and her body was vibrating quietly. The vibrations, she recognized, were a natural motion of her body. Every body was constantly vibrating. The breath, pulse, heartbeat, set up a ceaseless motion, a tension of desire that was life. The reading lamp was still on downstairs. He looked up as she walked down the steps. He had been reading a paperback. He wore a sarong around his waist. His chest was broad and flat, and reddish hair grew thickly on the front. His nipples were small and rosy. She could hardly take in his nakedness. "I'm frightened," she said, and meant it. Before he reached for her, he turned off the light. It was only then that she knew he loved her after all. 80 ...