The drive to the airport is long, jolting down dirt roads then tarmac, air shivering in the heat, windows down and dreadful rap playing on the radio. The map is open on the passenger seat, weighed down with a white plastic jug of water. The engine overheats barely an hour into the drive, on a road sandwiched between two national parks. I look around, last time a Krait surprised me, yellow and black slithering across the shimmering tarmac. Pouring water into the tank I'm forced to just sit, contemplate, on the tail of the truck, stretching my leg and listening to the hiss and pop of the cooling engine. There are no cars, not here, just me perched on the tailgate not entirely sure about this forced introspection.
We haven't spoken since I arrived here, kept her flight itinerary pinned to the wall next to a free calendar left by the previous holder of my job. There are small reminders of the previous teacher everywhere, little notes she left on the gas ring telling me to stand back first thing in the morning. She's right, it shoots gouts of flame from a vent in the front. Her chipped and cracked crockery, her instructions for doing laundry with a washboard all saved my skin those first eight weeks.
And now I'm waiting here for another girl to insinuate herself back into my life. I have a ring, on a chain around my neck where it's been for the last month...but I'm not sure how the hell I'm going to ask her. I lay back in the trunk, rough carpet pricking through my thin shirt, hands folded behind my head, looking up through the tinted windows.
Remember that day so clearly, so desperate to see her again and so suddenly shy and tongue-tied. Ridiculously worried about my appearance, shaving carefully in a broken shard of mirror, washing that morning under the pump; Heng coaxing water from the handle and chattering about how he proposed to his wife. When I'm done he looks up at me "teacher! How could she refuse?" I shake my head, laughing and he grips my hand tight before turning away. My clothes are stacked on a shelf, covered by a mosquito net - learned that early on after a scorpion fell out of a shirt - no fool I. I pick the best of a bad bunch, the last eight weeks of handwashing haven't been kind.
In the arrivals hall I tug at my shirt, twist the bracelets at my wrist and rub a hand through my short hair. Nervous, sweating even in the air conditioning. Examine my hands carefully, the dividing line between tan and pale along the edge of my thumbs is painfully obvious in the flickering fluorescent lights. Look up, think I see her but the crowd presses forward against the barrier, excited chattering in Khmer. I can see over them, just, spot her brown hair, see her stop, backpack resting against her thighs as she wraps her hair into a knot, scanning the crowd, her eyes pass over me without pausing. My heart sinks a little and I make my way forward. She grabs her backpack, the straps tug at her shirt, exposing pale skin at collar and hip. She scans the crowd again and misses me, again. When she sees me I'm behind her, taking her hand "I said no, no taxi!" she snaps and I laugh as she turns and stops, hand pressed flat against my chest. "Oh". I grab her bag, swing it onto my shoulder but she's still standing, one hand on my chest.
"Yes" I look down at her, puzzled. "I will marry you". She tugs the ring on its leather cord out of my shirt and hugs me so tightly I drop the bag, she has to clench her hand over mine to stop my cane clattering after her luggage.
In the arrivals hall I tug at my shirt, twist the bracelets at my wrist and rub a hand through my short hair. Nervous, sweating even in the air conditioning. Examine my hands carefully, the dividing line between tan and pale along the edge of my thumbs is painfully obvious in the flickering fluorescent lights. Look up, think I see her but the crowd presses forward against the barrier, excited chattering in Khmer. I can see over them, just, spot her brown hair, see her stop, backpack resting against her thighs as she wraps her hair into a knot, scanning the crowd, her eyes pass over me without pausing. My heart sinks a little and I make my way forward. She grabs her backpack, the straps tug at her shirt, exposing pale skin at collar and hip. She scans the crowd again and misses me, again. When she sees me I'm behind her, taking her hand "I said no, no taxi!" she snaps and I laugh as she turns and stops, hand pressed flat against my chest. "Oh". I grab her bag, swing it onto my shoulder but she's still standing, one hand on my chest.
"Yes" I look down at her, puzzled. "I will marry you". She tugs the ring on its leather cord out of my shirt and hugs me so tightly I drop the bag, she has to clench her hand over mine to stop my cane clattering after her luggage.
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