Joss and Gold

Four

Four Iar! w'"' late. The cloud.. had begun thickening about eleven. By noon the sun was nowhere in sight. Chester waited outside the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies library as Paroo had told him to, hoping that the trees stirring did not signal a downpour. Of course he was completely unprepared. No one traveled around the world with an umbrella, except maybe the British. The young Malay assistant came out of the library to ask him if he was Professor Brookfield. Paroo had sent a message that they should meet at the New Asia Hotel instead. He smiled as he gave Chester the message. "Bad day walking, sir," he said. "Rain surely coming soon." Clouds were churning in massive black cumuli as Chester hurried to find a taxi. The wind kicked up the long brilliant grass in the wasteland that bordered the road by the newly constructed institute. Lallang, Samad had told him. The lallang looked like paddy, but without any grain. Like some people, Samad had added, who grow on the land, but give nothing back. Strange how Chester remembered such small details about Samad. The mark ofan anthropologist, Jason had written in his letter of recommendation -seldom misses an observation that counts. Brown leaves, yellow and purple petals, and large twigs sprang up from the pavement. The wind was now bending the tops of tropical giants; thick branches, spilling over with staghorn ferns, leafy epiphytes, and the dangling roots of strangle JOSS and GOLD figs, creaked above him. Coolness gushed, drawn down from the turbulent sky. Chester stretched his stride with the sensation that he was slowly flying. A crack sounded like a muffled bomb, followed by a series of rumbles, hallucinatory , amplified in the deserted scene, which was suddenly as dark as nightfall. Drops splashed, each one separate, then together faster and faster. Chester sprinted the last few yards and stood under a bus shelter to wait for a taxi, his shirt stuck, wet, smelling of sweat. Damn! Two buses went by, faces pressed to the water-streaked windows , passengers wondering at his patience. It was almost twelvethirty . Where was the New Asia Hotel? Paroo had not told him, and he'd figured the taxi drivers would know. Would Li An wait? The light blue taxis sped past, sprays of brown puddles careering beside. His outstretched arm was soaked, stubborn; Chester felt himself a penitent. Yes, he wanted to see her, although the reason was obscure to him. After all these years, he remembered only the face, that small smile when she said good-bye. "Be good," he had said. That was what everyone was saying then. It did not mean anything. He could not mean anything to her. What he wanted now was to see her. No, not her alone, but also the child. Paroo had confirmed what he had wondered about-a daughter. There was a sickly echo somewhere in his body at the sound and thought of the word. The word lodged in his head. Daughter. A newly dangerous word. It had meant little to him before, merely a word he had learned with thousands ofother words. Not the way ladder had meant something when he had to buy one to clean the leaves out of the gutters the first year after he and Meryl had bought the house. Wood? Aluminum? Five feet, ten feet, eighteen feet? Medium-weight? Balanced? Choices to make, a weight to pick up, heft home, and make space for, a place for his foot that was strong enough to bear his weight. But daughter echoed somewhere in a cavity. Was this word something he could share with Meryl? The receptionist looked up as he walked in, shaking the drops from his hair. 186 LANDING "Halloo ..." Paroo was reading a tourist brochure. "Big storm, 1 think you cannot come." Chester did not like the dejection in Paroo's face. The hotel armchairs were upholstered in a pretty green-and-blue jungle pattern with coral-red parrots. He pretended not to notice the empty seats, as a hollow in his stomach rose to disturb him. "We wait," Paroo said, studying Chester's frown. "So much thunder and lightning, maybe Li An will be late." Outside the large glass doors rain was whipping down so thick it looked as if the island was under a waterfall. Thunder mumbled under the humming air-conditioning. The air indoors was clammy chill. Chester...