Isabel awoke at dawn feeling strange and unreal. She looked across the enormous bed to where Gilles and Carmen lay naked and spooned. There was very little she remembered about the previous night after she had come a second time. Snatches of sound and pictures flitted through her head: insidious erotic fragments, like a film no one would ever make. It was too real, too raw, too…
She slid off the bed, careful not to wake them. Outside in the courtyard, she heard someone watering the plants and birds bickering in the eaves of the house. Looking back at the lovers, she felt an odd repulsion rise in the pit of her stomach. She had never been with people like this. Their appetites frightened her, and so did the thing she became when she was with them. Monsters, she thought. Beautiful monsters.
Suddenly, she felt a desperate need to get away from them – as far and as fast as she could go. Isabel searched the room, looking for her dress. She cringed inwardly at the memory that she’d left it somewhere near the pool. Perhaps it was still there, or perhaps someone had taken it in.
Peeking out the door of the bedroom, making sure there was no one around, Isabel scurried to the next closed door down the hallway, hoping it was a bathroom. There had to be a towel, a robe, something she could throw on in order to find someone and ask about her dress.
It was a bathroom, and there were towels, and robes hanging on the back of the door. She considered having a shower. No, she thought, irrationally, just get out – quickly, now, before they wake up. She slipped one of the robes on, and went in search of her dress.
There was clattering and voices coming from the kitchen, and Isabel pushed the door open to find two older Vietnamese women in neat white uniforms preparing food. They turned around, their conversation quelled by her arrival.
“Mangerez-vous quelque chose pour le déjeuner, Mademoiselle?”
Isabel drew the robe around herself, self-conscious. “Non, merci. Avez-vous trouvé ma robe?”
The more slender of the two women, nodded, unsmiling. “Vous attendez ici, je le chercherez.”
The woman left, and a moment later returned with it, neatly folded, her sandals and her handbag also.
Isabel thanked the women, took her belongings and retreated to the bathroom where she dressed quickly. The act of putting the high, strappy sandals back on made her feel strange, queasy, and she decided to forego them. Instead she washed her face, dried it, and pulled out her mobile phone to ring for a taxi.
Her overhanging fear was that either Gilles or Carmen would wake up. Inexplicably, the thought terrified her. She walked to the front of the house, listening to her mobile phone connect the call.
“Alo?”
Suddenly, Isabel realized she had no idea how to describe the obscure address of the place. She hung up.
She decided to walk down to the dirt road by the rubber plantation, and see if perhaps she could find a taxi there. Beyond the gates of the house, the ground was dusty beneath her feet. It was father than she remembered to the plantation road, and every time she stepped on a sharp stone, she winced and looked down at the sandals dangling from her hand. Somehow, she just couldn’t bear the thought of putting them on.
As she walked, Isabel replayed the fantastic scenes of the night before through her mind: the spanking at the dinner table; Gilles’ hand between her legs in the toilet; the swimming pool and the taste of Carmen’s cunt. The opium, the nausea, and the keen, painful waves of desire. She shook her head to clear it, and the images retreated, leaving nothing but an unfamiliar sense of shame behind.
At the crossroads, she realized how stupid she’d been. The long straight road running alongside the plantation was virtually deserted. Here and there, a few lonely souls walked or cycled, but there wasn’t a car to be seen.
Isabel resigned herself to a long walk, and headed in the direction of the highway. At least it was early, and the day was still cool. The air felt fresh and clean against her skin. She imagined it purging her of the excesses of the night before. Was that possible? She wondered if it was possible to ever, truly, erase an experience. It took the sound of a very noisy motorcycle to pull her from her rumination.
“Where you go?”
The scruffy man on the bike gave her a smile. He was missing various teeth, and those he had were in need of dental care. His gaze flitted down to her bare feet, and up to her face.
“The highway,” Isabel said, indicating the road ahead. “Will you take me?”
“Okay! Five thousand Dong.”
Isabel nodded and perched herself side-saddle on the back of his bike. The driver started up with a lurch and they were off down the bumpy road. When they got to the end, where it met the highway, Isabel hopped off and gave him his fare.
“You friend of Ong Massé?” asked the driver. “Nguoi Phap?”
“No. I’m not.”
Isabel walked away on the verge of the highway, and flagged down a cab.
* * *
When she arrived home, Isabel bathed for a long time and redressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Very soon it became clear that, every time she had a moment of quiet, her thoughts drifted back to the plantation house, so she busied herself with small domestic chores until the evening, and then worked on translations until she was too tired to think.
On Sunday, she met a friend and fellow translator for brunch. Although she had planned to meet David at Le Jardin, she couldn’t bear the thought of running into anyone who had been at the Masse’s dinner party, and Le Jardin was popular with French expats. She called David and suggested a new location: a shabby place called Mogambo’s where the American breakfast was good, and the only patrons around were Vietnam Vets who were revisiting the country they’d left their youth in.
The restaurant was almost deserted when she arrived. CNN was blaring on a TV over the bar, and the waitresses were milling around pretending to be busy. The owner, Lani, a large and loud Vietnamese woman waved at Isabel absently and went back to her news and her early-morning beer.
Moments later, David arrived, looking preppy and earnest. He was one of her best friends in Saigon and he was due to leave soon to take up residence with the Thai boy who’d become the love of his life. She would be very sad to see him go.
When he sat down, he gave Isabel the once over. “I’d like to say you’re looking good, girl. But you’re not. You look pretty run over, actually.”
“Thank you, David. It’s always such a pleasure to see you,” Isabel quipped. But it was true and she knew it; although she had slept for nine hours, she woke looking and feeling as if she’d stayed up all night.
“Out on the tiles?” he asked, taking a careful sip of coffee.
“Last night? No. I worked. I’m finishing off a big job for Cineteque. They’re making all their posters tri-lingual.”
David groaned, tucking into the huge plated breakfast that had just arrived in front of him. “Nice work if you can get it. The Korean underwear factory job is driving me crazy. I knew I should have studied French, damn it.” He nibbled on a piece of toast for a bit and then broke into a huge grin. “Oh…oh…oh! You big fat liar!”
‘What?” exclaimed Isabel. She prodded the egg yolks with a sliver of toast and found them disappointingly overdone.
“Don’t ‘what’ me, girl. You went to that swanky French par-tay on Friday night, didn’t you?”
Isabel raised her eyebrows.
“The invite? The one you were so exited about? Furniture guy? Did you go?”
“Masse. Yes, I went.”
“And?” He pursed his lips. “No, no. Don’t tell me. You met some delicious young Francophone wolf who ate you right up!” He nodded smugly, agreeing with himself. “That’s why you look like shit.”
“Ah…no.”
“Liar!”
“Leave it, David,” Isabel pleaded.
David sniggered. “You go out and get some booty and you aren’t going to tell your dearest and most trusted friend about it? You, girl, are a party pooper.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
David’s face changed to something like concern. “Did bad boy do bad things to little Isabel? Did he love you and leave you, Izzie?”
“It wasn’t anything like that. Well…not really.”
David moved around to the other side of the booth and put a friendly arm around her. “You know you’re going to tell me, honey. Sooner or later.” He gave her shoulder a rather brutal squeeze. “Make it sooner, please? My life is a unending bore and any drama will brighten it up.”
Despite her best intentions, Isabel found herself telling David about Friday night. Not everything, but enough to paint the picture. Though Isabel knew that, for David, this was just a juicy little piece of gossip, she felt better for having told someone. As if, in telling it, she’d purged it from her system.
“I’m really not so interested in the Carmen bitch, but do tell about Gilles. What’s his cock like?”
“David! Behave!”
“Big?” he grinned and looked at her with puppy-dog eyes. “Come on, you can tell uncle David.”
Isabel couldn’t help herself; she burst into giggles. “Big.”
“How big?” David held is hands apart and moved then in what looked to be precisely staggered increments.
“Big, David. Too big for you, baby.”
Smirking, he wagged a finger in front of her face. “Don’t say that, sweetie. I can be very accommodating.”
“Okay then. Just your size.”
“No…don’t say that either. A boy likes to fantasize about something just a little too big.”
“Fine. Whatever!”
“Was he cut?” David asked in feigned innocence.
Suddenly the stupidity of the conversation hit Isabel like a slap. And, instead of laughing about it, she surprised herself by tearing up.
David looked at her, a little shocked. “Um…was it something I said?”
That opened the floodgates. Isabel grabbed her napkin and burst into tears on David’s shoulder. And David, being the consummate gay friend, just patted her on the arm and sat quietly until she sniffed and hiccupped her way to a stop.
“I’m sorry, Izzie. I just don’t get it. You had the kind of night most people would shoot their own dicks off to have and you’re crying about it.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Clearly. Care to explain?”
“I feel…somehow… changed. Tainted. Dirty. I’ve never felt like that before.”
David pushed her gently off his shoulder. “I did, once.”
“Yeah?” Isabel sniffled and dabbed at her eyes.
“Yeah. I was about thirteen. But it passed, honey. It passed real quick.”