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"You might go back, see the things you didn't. It's not like it's a
dangerous trip. You've taken greater risks," she said.
"Any rate, I left China and headed for Indonesia. Maybe it was the
below the equator heat but the days all rolled into one another there."
He rented a bungalow in Ubud and befriended the groundskeeper,
Wayan Eka, a short, little guy with a broad, toothy smile, one that made his
whole face smile. Wayan explained to Bill that in Bali all first-born boys are
named Wayan. Second born boys are named Made, third born Nyoman, fourth
-- Ketut. He told Marilyn, "They've got this simple naming structure, set up for
the common people, the Sudra caste, which make up something like ninety-five
percent of the population. Everyone's got one of four names and if you're a girl
they just add a prefix -- 'Ni'. There's a similar naming system for the upper
castes, but I don't remember it."
Bill pursued odd facts with an appetite Marilyn did not share, his
digressions an endurance test for her. "Do you want a drink?" she asked. "I'm
gonna have a scotch -- I feel cold tonight, must be the fog."
"Yeah, sure. I'll get it, don't get up." When Bill came back into the
living room Marilyn had lit the fire, a fake gas fire that would envelop the two
of them in a favorable light, but there would be no pine smell, no spark, no
sizzle. Hampton had moved to the couch, sixty pounds of mixed breed, and
Bill sat down next to him, patted his head. He was not a complicated pet.
"I went trekking with Wayan Eka - a back trail along the Ayung River
-he pointed out all the native herbs and cooking spices - you would've liked
him. And we went on this great bike trip at dusk one day, through rice fields
and really remote villages. He was great, taking me around the island, knew all
the best beach cafes for grilled fish and water spinach. And the temple sites,
Jesus, talk about stairs. I called Bradley Campbell, you know he lives there."
Her back stiffened, "What? No, I didn't ... I'd ... I'd no idea you'd kept
track of his whereabouts."
"Well he married a Balinese woman who owns property. He's an
exporter now - ethnic knick-knacks, some art stuff. We arranged to meet at a
restaurant, the Pearl Moon, a first rate place run by some Americans who
stumbled upon it back in the sixties and never left."
*
Pearl Moon is located in the jungle, isolated and accessible only by dirt
road. Wayan Eka knew it and agreed to drive Bill there.
The night Bill met Bradley Campbell for dinner the sky literally broke
open and the rain came down in torrents. At the turnoff, Wayan said, "you'll
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