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Sarah stayed with her head in her hands while the tears slid onto her cheeks. As they ran dry, she rose from the bed and started to pack. She carried the emptiness with her to the longtail boat. She kept looking back as the distance drew out between her and Kendra, hoping to see her. When she didn’t, the rage flared and threatened to consume what was left of her.
32.
MALEE HEADED TOWARDS THEkitchen where Kim Cheng was already preparing their special evening meal for the incoming guests. “Want a beer, Kenny?”
“Yeah.” Kendra started fixing the lights around the first hut ready for Songkran, the Thai New Year’s holiday, and became distracted by a tinfoil barb in the water. The large silver fish with red fins darted beneath the pontoon, and the lake looked as if diamonds danced across its surface. The hot air dried the back of her throat, and she wiped the sweat from her eyes. The dry season was hot and the jungle no less spectacular for the absence of the cooling rain. Every day she’d noticed something different, an insect or a fish or a flower coming into bloom for the first time, but nothing had been quite the same in the two months since Sarah had left.
Fleetingly, she wondered what Sarah would make of the tinfoil barb, and briefly, she acknowledged the tightening sensation below her ribs. She returned her focus to the lights.
Although tempted, she’d stayed away from news of the election campaign in England. She’d recovered from letting Sarah go this time around more easily than the first, because deep down she’d known how it would end. She’d been harsh with Sarah the morning she’d left, though the fact that Sarah had thought she could be easily bought still niggled, and she had known that her anger had been driven by sadness. At least it had resulted in a clean break, and they could both move on. It was better that way. No false promises made in the heat of the moment or in the haze of the love they’d bathed in for the week, and although her heart ached if she thought about Sarah, she’d made the right decision. At least, that had been her mantra. The ache in her chest told her it wasn’t working too well.
She turned her attention to the vibrant colours. The shade of the lake changed with the setting sun, and the rustling noises from the jungle behind her intensified as they always did when evening approached. She took a deep breath and spotted the incoming longtail boat a way off. She thought about Sarah and sighed.
Everything was in place inside of the hut: the sheets folded back on the beds, the light, a basket of fruit on the small round table on the veranda, six small bottles of water in the small fridge in the room, and most importantly, the mosquito net covered the windows.
She worked her way through each of the huts, fitting the coloured lights and checking the rooms, then stood on the pontoon as the boat approached. She hadn’t fully appreciated the view when she’d first arrived, having been too emotionally battered and bruised to be open to its splendour, but she’d done the trip across the lake many times since and knew how awesome it was, especially for those arriving for the first visit.
Seeing the approval on their guests smiling faces and watching their transformation during their stay and their increased appreciation of nature and the ecosystem that surrounded them made the hard work worth it.
“Here,” Malee said and handed over a chilled bottle of beer.
She pressed it to her cheek before taking a long gulp. “It’s going to look great,” she said.
They tried to make every event special and authentic. They had even decorated a small tree for their American guests over the Christmas period and interspersed their usual traditional Thai music with popular Christmas songs, and Kendra had made a Thai style Christmas pudding that they’d all wanted the recipe for. It had helped her feel closer to her family. Four months had passed since Christmas. And Sarah had passed by too. She put her hand on her chest and took a drink of the beer.
“They’ll love it.” Malee tapped her bottle to Kendra’s.
“Yeah.”
Malee stared at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Kendra turned away from Malee’s prying eyes.
“Just checking,” she said. “You still think about her?”
“Sometimes.” Kendra ran her thumb over the condensation on the bottle’s label. That was a lie. She thought about Sarah often. She was over her though, and that was the point. There was no harm in thinking about her or reflecting on the fond memories they’d made. It didn’t mean she missed Sarah. She didn’t need her to be happy. “It’s just different now,” she said.
“You did what had to be done.”
Kendra nodded. “I don’t miss her.”
Malee cleared her throat, and when Kendra looked at her, she was frowning. She felt the flush creep across her cheeks. “I was just thinking about when Mum and Dad might come since they couldn’t make it last year.”
“You must miss them,” Malee said.
“More so at the moment for some reason.” Kendra sipped her beer.
“Hm. Is there anything else you’ve missed?” Malee asked.
Kendra shrugged. “Nero’s coffee,” she said, without thinking.
“What’s wrong with our coffee?” Malee asked and nudged Kendra playfully.
Kendra scrunched her nose. “It’s okay. It just doesn’t have that, I don’t know, distinctive flavour.” She recalled being flipped off her scooter by Sarah, them having the same travel mug, and walking and talking as they had their first coffee together. Maybe, it was the sharing more than the coffee that resonated. Maybe it was Sarah. The warmth filled her now, as it had then, and was gently comforting. Shedidmiss her. Of course she missed her. She just couldn’t afford to think about it. It was done, and she had to move on.
She emptied her beer, threw it in the bin next to the jetty and turned her attention to the boat as it docked.
“Oh, my Lord, it’s so tiny.”
