Chapter One - Richard Lewis
Chapter One - Richard Lewis Chapter One - Richard Lewis
"Just shut up and listen, would you." "Sorry." "We were living in this development near Bakersfield, and behind our house was a kind of wasteland, the sort of place where you'd hide a body. My sister Nancy was scared of the place, just about the only thing she was scared of. Anyway," Tina said, "I was fifteen and had my first boyfriend. My parents had us on strict curfew, in bed by ten for me, but one night I snuck out to meet him at a strip mall down the avenue. We didn't have a big house, and so Nancy and I had to share a bedroom. I thought she was asleep. But she climbed out the window and followed me and busted me before I got to the mall. God, the fight we had. She could be such a puritan, you know. She threatened to tell on me if I didn't go home. So I said fine, we'd go home together and I grabbed her arm and hauled her off. I said we'd take the shortcut through the scrub brush, to scare her. I was so angry at her." Tina fell silent, her fingers plucking at the cushion on her lap. "I'm listening," Reed said. "I left her there. God, I was furious. I knew she was scared of the woods, so I pushed her down onto this rock and told her she had to wait there for half an hour while I went home and snuck back into bed. She begged me not to leave her, but I said she had to stay. This was her punishment for following me. She sat down on that rock. She was frightened, but she was also proud. She was angry right back at me. I was the one who was breaking our parents' rule, she said. That was Nancy. Maybe if she'd kept begging me, if she cried, if she looked, you know, just a little bit forlorn, like a little sister should, I would have relented and walk her back to the house. But she shot daggers at me. She said she'd stay there all night. She was always so stubborn and self righteous and maddening—" Tina's voice caught again. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, but she angrily flicked them away. "Where are these coming from? I've used up all my tears. All that's left is cracked bottom. Mirrors. Shards." "I never did cry," Reed said. "How I was raised. Emotional drydock." "I snuck back into my bedroom. I waited an hour. Then I went back out to look for her. She wasn't at the rock. I thought she was hiding, to make me even more angry. So I said, I almost shouted, all right, stay here all night if you want, I'm going to bed. Whoever took her probably heard me. And later that's all I could think about, that he heard me yelling angry at her, yelling fine stay here all night, I'm going to bed. And the next morning, when she never returned, my parents went frantic. They called the cops. It turned into one of those abducted girl TV things. I lied through my teeth. I told the I'd heard a puppy crying that night, and Nancy probably snuck over the wall to find it. I never told the real truth. I was so torn apart. Grief. Guilt." Tina paused. With one hand, she smoothed out the fingers of the other. "But you know the worst of it? I was angry. She was missing, it was my fault, and I was angry at her! If she hadn't followed me. If she hadn't been so stubborn. It was my fault. It was her fault. Damn me. Damn her. An infinite hall of mirror shards. Still grief and guilt. Still anger. Anger reflecting the guilt, guilt reflecting the anger. I still get furious with her. I'll never get over the grief. But I don't have any more tears." Reed watched as the yoga master struck an impossible pose. "You could try forgiving her," Reed said. "And then yourself." 202
"What do you know about it?" Tina snapped. "The theory is easy. I don't know much about the practice." He straightened his legs with a wince and held out his hand. "Help me up, would you. Looking at that guru with his ankle around his neck has frozen my joints." In the clinic's garden, shaded by the trees and serenaded by a flock of twitchy sparrows, Men Djawa tilted her head and peered up at her visitor looming over her. She said in Balinese, "What a big nose you have." Reed grinned and said in the same language, "Where I come from, that's the start of a children's story." "Do you know where my children are?" Reed sat down on the bench across from her. "Don't you remember me, Ibu Parwati?" She harrumphed. "White people all look alike." "Do you remember Naniek?" Men Djawa blinked her cloudy eyes. "They killed her. I saw her bones." "She wasn't killed. Her brother took her to Singapore. She's living in Canada now." "How do you know? They were all killed." "I put her on the plane." Men Djawa sucked her cheeks, her corrugated face further creased with puzzlement. "I know you. You're that American, with the camera. Reed Davis." "Much older now. I have hair growing in my ears." "Naniek is in Canada? Isn't it cold there? I hope she dresses warmly. She was always riding her bike in the rain." Reed withdrew a postcard sized photograph from his shirt pocket, one he had digitally reproduced from the larger framed photo, of two girls playing hopscotch. He put the photo in her hand. She frowned again and brought it close to her eyes. Her hand began to shake, slowly at first and then as if caught in a violent storm. She pressed her hand down into her lap, nearly crumpling the photo. She looked at Reed, and it wasn't hope that was rising up through those murky eyes, but an awful dread, a terror that she would at long last find out what happened to her girls. "They're safe," Reed said. "I took Sri and Endang to Pastor Louis. You remember him, the Catholic priest? He ran the orphanage and the clinic. They were in the orphanage for a month and then Father Louis's church sent them to Singapore. A Dutch family adopted them. They went to Holland a year later. That's where the live." Men Djawa's terror receded and was replaced by indignant alarm. "Orang blanda? Dutch colonial imperialists?" "A good family. Your girls found a home." Men Djawa examined the photograph once more, briefly, almost cursorily, and tucked the glossy down the front of her gown, close to her heart. She grasped Reed's hand and said, "Come around again tomorrow. I will make sweet cakes for you, the best kue lapis you've ever tasted." Tina dropped Reed off at his bungalow. He invited her in for a drink, but she could tell that he wanted to be alone. 203
- Page 151 and 152: dozen kue lapis. I told her take th
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- Page 175 and 176: Chapter 31 In the hospital garden,
- Page 177 and 178: and decided to send her into exile.
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- Page 181 and 182: Chapter 32 1965 Rusty, revealing re
- Page 183 and 184: the merchant refused. "No, no, no.
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- Page 187 and 188: "No!" Reed shouted, resuming his sp
- Page 189 and 190: Chapter 33 "They found their Luhde
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- Page 193 and 194: Then he heard his brother Dharma, b
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- Page 201: In the back of a shed, a tin pot st
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- Page 207 and 208: Chapter 36 Nol trotted up the grana
- Page 209 and 210: ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The bloody trauma
"What do you know about it?" Tina snapped.<br />
"The theory is easy. I don't know much about the practice." He straightened his<br />
legs with a wince and held out his hand. "Help me up, would you. Looking at that guru<br />
with his ankle around his neck has frozen my joints."<br />
In the clinic's garden, shaded by the trees and serenaded by a flock of twitchy<br />
sparrows, Men Djawa tilted her head and peered up at her visitor looming over her. She<br />
said in Balinese, "What a big nose you have."<br />
Reed grinned and said in the same language, "Where I come from, that's the start<br />
of a children's story."<br />
"Do you know where my children are?"<br />
Reed sat down on the bench across from her. "Don't you remember me, Ibu<br />
Parwati?"<br />
She harrumphed. "White people all look alike."<br />
"Do you remember Naniek?"<br />
Men Djawa blinked her cloudy eyes. "They killed her. I saw her bones."<br />
"She wasn't killed. Her brother took her to Singapore. She's living in Canada<br />
now."<br />
"How do you know? They were all killed."<br />
"I put her on the plane."<br />
Men Djawa sucked her cheeks, her corrugated face further creased with<br />
puzzlement. "I know you. You're that American, with the camera. Reed Davis."<br />
"Much older now. I have hair growing in my ears."<br />
"Naniek is in Canada? Isn't it cold there? I hope she dresses warmly. She was<br />
always riding her bike in the rain."<br />
Reed withdrew a postcard sized photograph from his shirt pocket, one he had<br />
digitally reproduced from the larger framed photo, of two girls playing hopscotch. He put<br />
the photo in her hand. She frowned again and brought it close to her eyes. Her hand<br />
began to shake, slowly at first and then as if caught in a violent storm. She pressed her<br />
hand down into her lap, nearly crumpling the photo. She looked at Reed, and it wasn't<br />
hope that was rising up through those murky eyes, but an awful dread, a terror that she<br />
would at long last find out what happened to her girls.<br />
"They're safe," Reed said. "I took Sri and Endang to Pastor Louis. You remember<br />
him, the Catholic priest? He ran the orphanage and the clinic. They were in the orphanage<br />
for a month and then Father Louis's church sent them to Singapore. A Dutch family<br />
adopted them. They went to Holland a year later. That's where the live."<br />
Men Djawa's terror receded and was replaced by indignant alarm. "Orang<br />
blanda? Dutch colonial imperialists?"<br />
"A good family. Your girls found a home."<br />
Men Djawa examined the photograph once more, briefly, almost cursorily, and<br />
tucked the glossy down the front of her gown, close to her heart. She grasped Reed's hand<br />
and said, "Come around again tomorrow. I will make sweet cakes for you, the best kue<br />
lapis you've ever tasted."<br />
Tina dropped Reed off at his bungalow. He invited her in for a drink, but she<br />
could tell that he wanted to be alone.<br />
203