Chapter 30

Kreeger had lifted his eyes from the book to enjoy the display, ‘Amazing,’ he said under his breath.

‘What? Why, what’s in it?’ Lee said.

‘No, the sunset. That was amazing. I have never seen anything like it before.’

‘The book, what’s in the book,’ Lee said, ignoring the doctors words.

‘It’s his diary, Nathan Blye’s diary.’

‘I know, but what does he say?’

‘Well, nothing yet, and now it’s too dark to see anything.’ Kreeger sealed the worn pages within their green covers. ‘Later; I can have a look later.’

Kreeger felt tired and sat back in his seat, realising that he was more than just weary—exhausted. He tried to run his mind over the day’s events but did not get very far. He caught glimpses of the distant city through the palms that edged the road. Darkness could not subdue that place; it seemed to be waking as a thousand of points of light burnt holes in its incipient shroud. But the glow held no allure for him; he knew exactly what was down there, knew that this awakening beast was to be his home for the immediate future. He slid further into the seat and closed his eyes.

What had happened up there today under the waterfall he could not explain, but whatever it was it had not lasted very long. His spirits had peaked already and now seemed to be sinking with the sun, eclipsed by darkness. He was on his way back down.

‘You still want to see the body tonight?’ Lee said.

Kreeger was almost asleep and he came to with an increased heartbeat. Doctor Spina had just mopped Maria’s brow. ‘What . . . ?‘ Palpitations. ‘Yes . . . let’s get it over with. I can write up my notes tomorrow and leave the next day.’

‘Why are you in big hurry to leave, Docta?’

Kreeger kicked himself for again mentioning his haste. It seemed to be something that kept coming out by itself. He then turned to Lee, confused by his reaction. He had got the impression that he was not so welcome here and would have assumed that Lee could not wait for him to leave, to take his prying eyes elsewhere. And yet here he was worrying about his early departure. ‘I . . .’ He did not know where to begin. ‘. . . I am actually already retired,’ he said before again realising that was not a wise thing to tell Jon Lee. ‘I mean I should be home already . . . . This thing came up as I was on my way to the airport.’

‘You retired!’

Unfortunately Lee had understood. ‘Yes, in a way I am.’ He paused. ‘All I am getting for my trouble now is a lousy pension,’ he added with a forced laugh, trying to make a joke out of it.

Lee didn’t smile. ‘So what’s you position now, Docta?’

‘I am not really sure. I have not given it much thought. Officially I suppose . . . well, I . . . nothing; I mean, I suppose I have no official position now.’ That hurt. Lee had pushed the doctor into a corner, from where he was looking out over the remainder of his life. He hoped Lee would not ask him anything about his family.

‘And your wife; she’s back in the States?’

‘No . . . I mean yes, of course she is back there.’ No more, he would tell Lee no more than that.

‘She should have come with you, Docta. She missed a wonderful chance, no?’ Lee was chewing on something that he had just taken from a small pot.

‘Yes, she should have,’ was all he said. ‘How about you? You are married I presume?’

‘Sure. I’m married,’ Lee replied. He opened his window and spat something out, and then with a clear mouth he continued, ‘Everybody must marry here, you know? Tradition. Must have sons to continue the family name and pray to ancestors’ ghosts.’

‘So you followed that tradition?’

‘Yes . . . well no, not exactly.’ He fumbled with the pot again and flipped another seed-like object into his mouth. He bit down hard. ‘The girl I loved she was not allowed to marry me. Wrong age.’ He paused, waiting for Kreeger’s question that didn’t come. Chewing. ‘She is three years younger than me; three not a good number—very bad lucky. So her family they refuse. No marriage.’

‘How unfortunate for you.’

‘Yes. My parents they go to a temple and ask a fortune teller. He describes a suitable girl for me to marry. Age, birthday, star sign, time of birth—oh many things you can’t believe. Then my parents they go to a matchmaker, a very old woman. She helps find a wife for me.’

They had reached the edge of the city. The road managed to slide in but everything else crashed to a halt and bounced back; the rice fields, the trees and bushes, the peace and quiet—all denied entrance.

‘And your wife?’

‘My wife not a good woman. We make no baby and she always blames me. I told you I was sent here from the provincial capital; well, when I came, she stayed behind. She would not follow me. Maybe because of what happen in my job, maybe because no baby—I don’t know. But I know I can never go back to that city—my parents they don’t want to see me again.’

Kreeger was a little embarrassed, not being used to sympathising with other people’s misfortunes, and could only say that he was sorry. Lee kept silent as he manoeuvred the car past a yellow taxi and ran a red light.

‘Now my life is okay, Docta.’ Lee grinned. ‘I still have a job, have an apartment, have many girlfriends. One day I may try to get to the States.’ His grin broke into a smile. ‘Not so bad, eh? But the tradition?’ He clucked and looked over at Kreeger for a brief second. ‘I hate.’ Another seed went into his mouth. ‘I hate the religion here, the superstition—so backward and stupid. Not like in your country, eh Docta? Maybe I go there one day.’

Kreeger looked around him. They must have been getting towards the centre of the city—the traffic was getting heavier and slower. Cars crawled; scooters and bicycles snaked through the gaps; jaywalkers moved like ants around everything, stepping everywhere besides the pavements that either did not exist or were themselves too congested to be of any use. No, he thought to himself, this is not like my country.

Lee braked and almost touched bumpers with the car in front, rocking the two men forwards. Kreeger looked up as his head neared the windscreen. The car in front had knocked into a pedestrian but the doctor’s line of vision was quickly drawn up over the stationary car towards a huge banner that had been unfurled down the side of a tall building, covering the windows of four storeys. Glinting black eyes pierced out into the night, looking everywhere and nowhere at once.

‘Fang,’ Lee said, noticing the doctor’s stare. ‘Gets his ugly face everywhere.’

Strong lights on stalks stuck out around the edges of the banner, shining back into the wall, illuminating the badly printed face of Abbot Fang. Kreeger could barely perceive the smile that had so mesmerised him the night before, as if it had been hastily rubbed away before the flash of the camera; but it was still there, latent in the underlying face muscles.

Lee stepped on the accelerator and Kreeger slammed back in his seat. The poster jerked out of view and they left behind the radiant face of Abbot Fang; but the eyes remained, impressed on his mind, as if they were looking at his inner thoughts.

Neither man spoke until they neared the river. ‘You are wrong, Jon,’ Kreeger said at last. He had just broken out of a mental slideshow of spires, steeples, and domes; frocked men in dog-collars calling for repentance; broken lives held together by ancient words. ‘We do have all this back home; it just looks a little different and we give it different names; dress it up; dignify it; but it is still there.’ Maria’s hidden crucifix. ‘I hate, too,’ he said, trying to imitate Lee. ‘At least I used to.’

But it seemed as if Jon Lee had forgotten what they had been talking about. He started to chew again, rediscovering something in his mouth. ‘Oh, is that right,’ was all he said.