End of the Ocean Page 9

  Kadek walked to an ancient stone carving where he stopped and prayed. Afterward he lit a stick of incense and swirled it in the air, leaving trails of dust that smoldered in great unwinding curls. Walking toward them now, he placed the stick in a crack in the concrete and they watched in silence as the smoke was carried away in a zephyr of wind.

  Ratri, holding several pink petals in her hands, raised her slim arms above her, touched her hands together and prayed.

  Sage did what he saw her do as Kadek watched, and once they had prayed for a reasonable amount of time, Kadek, lighting two sticks of incense, handed each a stick and they pushed their sticks into thin cracks in the concrete that held them straight. Ratri, bending down, using her hands, captured the smoke and brought it to her face three times like Kadek had done, as Sage, watching her still, continued to do what she did. When he looked at her again she held both hands open, showing the petals as an offering, while Kadek, standing above her, holding the pot with water, spilled a drop of water on her head. Then he did the same to Sage.

  After they finished praying at the temple, they walked to their motorbikes and Kadek put the incense and the water pot back in the crate and Sage asked him if they were done.

  Kadek said they were just getting started. “This first temple.”

  Sage asked Kadek how many temples they would go to and Kadek said many temples.

  “Six or seven maybe,” Ratri said.

  Kadek said, “More.”

  That was fine with Sage. Though his thigh was sore, he was glad they were not going back yet. There was nothing he would rather be doing. Beside the fact he had a beautiful woman behind him, it was more than that. It felt like a privilege to be here. Like he now found himself in the company of extraordinary people, doing extraordinary things, on a continent he never thought he would step foot on, but here he was.

  Sage turned his head to his left and said, “I don’t see many Americans.”

  She sat close, but once he spoke she leaned closer, wanting to hear his words over the wind and the exhaust and the horns of passing motorbikes.

  “Not in this village,” she said. “You only bule.”

  “What’s that mean?” he said. “Bule?”

  “It means white,” she said. “What Indo call American like you: bule.”

  “Should I be offended?”

  Ratri laughed. “No. It no bad for you. It just what we say.”

  Kadek passed a large flatbed truck hauling rocks but Sage waited until there was a break in traffic to pass the truck. He asked Ratri if his driving was OK and she said it was fine.

  “You do good job,” she said, leaning forward to make sure he heard her; she patted his chest with her right hand, now wrapped tightly around him.

  Kadek stopped at the next temple and parked. Sage parked and they got off his motorbike and walked to the next temple and prayed. It was the first good day Sage had had in a long time and he did not want it to end.

  But he knew it would, eventually. Sooner or later every good thing in his life came to an end.

  ***

  It was late in the afternoon when they stopped at the last temple. It had been a long ride to reach it compared to the other temples they had been to. Leaving the village, they took a road of white chat gravel, hardpacked, which was very solid. It was also very steep. Sage worried, but Ratri sensed his apprehension and told him to climb the hill as fast as he could.

  He rolled the throttle back and climbed without problems and when he got to the top he was fine. But then he had to go down the other side.

  “Use front brake, tap tap,” she said; raising her left hand, she made quick squeezing motions.

  Kadek rode to the bottom of the hill and Sage made it down behind him without trouble and, crossing a small gravel lot, they came to a field of long bendy grass that led to the woods. Sage followed Ratri, who followed Kadek. He felt good about this day, and prouder of the way he’d handled himself on the motorbike than he was before. That was something he loved: her riding behind him; talking about houses they passed and people they passed and laughing at Kadek when he swerved to miss chickens.

  The three of them, walking a slanted, slim-terraced path wedged between two rice paddies, climbed a grooved channel worn into the hill. It forced them to work hard, covering Sage in sweat and raising his blood pressure, reddening his cheeks and depriving him of breath all at once.

  Sage, wincing in pain, did his best to hide it.

  Ratri asked him, “You OK, bule?”

  “This bule’s fine,” he said between strained breaths.

  “You look hot.”

  “This is the hottest place on Earth. I think I’m going to die.”

  His face was burning and red and his sarong was soaked with perspiration.

  Ratri said something to Kadek in Indonesian and he stopped and looked at Sage.

  “Ratri right, you hot.”

  “It’s hot as hell but I’m OK.”

  “You not used to this heat,” she said.

  Kadek pointed to a stone wall that had been deteriorating for a hundred years or more and directed them to it. They sat and relaxed in the shade. “Do not worry, this last temple,” he said. But Sage wasn’t worried. He was hot and he was covered in sweat but he was calm. They talked for a while and people came and prayed and left.

  Once Sage cooled down and his color returned to normal, Kadek asked if he was ready.

  Sage said he was. They stood and walked the path until it stopped at a tall stone temple with many wide steps and Sage was astounded at the splendor and architecture that went into building something so long ago, so far out in the jungle, that so few people would ever see.

  After they prayed they returned to their motorbikes and climbed the steep hill and rode down the other side. It was still hot but there was a kind breeze once they got moving and they followed Kadek back to his village and parked and walked over the narrow stone bridge above the wide ditch and stepped through the hallway to the courtyard and sat in whatever shade they could find and drank hot coffee. Sage could not believe anyone could drink hot coffee in the sun after walking up and down so many steps, but they did. They drank a lot of hot coffee.

  “Coffee hot, make you sweat. Sweat cool you down,” Kadek said.

  Sage drank water. It was warm, but it was good. He drank the first glass very quickly. Then a second and a third. By the fifth glass he felt like he might not die anymore.

  Kadek left the courtyard and disappeared into a small room and returned with a plate of food. He brought it to Sage.

  “What’s this?”

  “This food from my Ibu. She ask, you eat this kind before?”

  “No.”

  “Bagus. I tell her that make her happy, she cook for you for first time.”

  Sage took the plate from Kadek and thanked him and waited for Kadek before he ate. When he returned, Kadek sat and held his plate with one hand and ate with the other. He did not use forks or chopsticks; he ate with his right hand.

  Sage, realizing he had no silverware and none would arrive, shrugged, digging into a pile of mixed rice; he brought it to his lips and chewed and after a few bites he got used to it, but when he looked down he was covered in rice. He had not seen Ratri since they returned, but when he looked up she was there with a plate in her hand and a smile on her face.

  She handed him a spoon.

  “Kadek supposed to bring this for you, Sage.”

  Kadek laughed and told Sage he was sorry.

  “Many Muslim and Hindu eat that way,” she said, pointing a slender finger toward Kadek.

  “What about you?”

  “I have spoon.”

  She held it up and showed him.

  The three of them talked while they ate. Kadek’s ibu joined them briefly and Sage was sure to tell her how good her food was and how much he enjoyed it and how he had not known what to expect but this
was better than anything he could have imagined.

  They finished their meals and their coffee and watched Kadek’s younger brothers play with a marionette. One boy stood on a chair and controlled the strings and the other did the speaking. Sage had no idea what they were saying, but everyone laughed so he laughed. It was a grand experience, one he would always cherish.

  It was late when Sage left the village, unescorted, and did his best to find his way. He used a map for directions and kept it folded in the compartment between his legs. There was much traffic as the sun set, and once it was gone it would be hard to see where he was going. Notwithstanding, Sage felt confident after the exceptional day he’d had and did not let the idea of riding alone at night concern him.

  He missed several exits and made wrong turns, and it took two hours and fifteen minutes when it should have taken forty-five, but he finally found the villa and went to his room and showered and turned on the TV and lay down on the bed.

  He had not told Ratri goodbye and that was fine. He did not want to appear interested. Not that he was interested. Was he? He thought he was. But then he didn’t. Thoughts of her would come and go and blend with thoughts of her, the wife he used to have.

  It was a hard process. Letting go. Moving on was painful. He wanted her to go away—the thoughts inside his head: memories of straight blonde hair that curved around her long, lean face—but he also wanted her to stay. And that was the hardest part. It was not the fact he did not have her, but knowing he’d had her once and lost her.

  Sage turned off the TV. There was nothing on that was not in Indonesian. He rolled to his side and got comfortable. Thought about Ratri, and the more he thought about her the less he thought about anyone else, and that was what he needed. A distraction. Maybe he would see her again and maybe he wouldn’t.

  He drifted off to sleep and thought no more about either one of them.

  It was late morning when he woke up. He’d slept very well but his leg muscle was sore where he’d pulled it. Even more so than the day before, something he would not have thought possible, but the hills he’d climbed and the steps he’d mounted had done his injury no favors.

  He sat up and turned and planted his feet on the floor. Today he would check out. Kadek would meet him at ten a.m. in front of his villa and call a taxi to haul Sage’s luggage. Then Sage would follow him to his new room in Ubud, on Bangkiang Sidem. It would be another long ride in traffic but that was fine with him.

  He met Kadek by the front doors. There was a cab waiting. The driver took Sage’s suitcase and his backpack and put them in the trunk. Pulled out ahead of them and Kadek followed the taxi and Sage followed Kadek. Within minutes they had passed the taxi and blended in with other motorbikes.

  Kadek, yelling over traffic, said, “Don’t worry, he know where to go.”

  They rode to Ubud and parked in front of the house on Bangkiang Sidem. Kadek asked Sage how he felt about his new place.

  “I think I’ll like it,” Sage said.

  “Bagus.”

  “It’s small but it’s all I need.”

  “It perfect for single man.”

  Sage agreed with him.

  “Why you single, you no marry?”

  “I was.”

  “You divorce?”

  Sage nodded.

  “Oh that bad,” Kadek said.

  Sage wanted to tell Kadek the truth: that she had cheated on him with more than one man. But he didn’t. To say that meant he had to think it and he was tired of thinking. He would not say it or think it and or hate her for doing what she did. He would just move on. He had to. For the last year he’d tried to do what he knew he had to but knowing what had to be done and finding the strength to do it were two different things.

  “Yeah, it was bad,” Sage said. “I loved her.”

  Kadek asked him again what he thought about Ratri.

  “What about her?”

  “You like her, boss,” he said. It was not a question, but a statement.

  Sage said, “I don’t have a chance.”

  “What you mean?”

  “What do I mean? My God, she’s beautiful. She’d never like me.”

  “No, Ratri like you. She tell me.”

  That made Sage swallow hard and it got his attention.

  “You’re full of shit, Kadek.”

  Kadek turned his head to the side and, with a serious face, asked Sage why he would say that. “I not full with shit,” he said. “What that mean?”

  “It means I don’t believe you—that you’re just fucking with me. You know, playing a joke, a trick.”

  “Oh no,” he said. “No no I not fuck with you, Joe. Not play trick.”

  Sage noted he called him Joe again.

  “I serious, this truth—that what she say.”

  Turning his palms up, Kadek looked very sincere and Sage wondered how Kadek could benefit from this lie and decided he couldn’t. Sage had been warned about these people, the Balinese, though always by people who had never been to Bali or known anyone from there. But he had been warned, nonetheless, to watch out for them, because, at some point, one would try to scam him.

  “I serious,” Kadek said.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  The idea of romance was out of the question. Sex, maybe—hopefully? But no feelings. This was his dream vacation. Except that wasn’t true. It wasn’t his dream vacation, it was hers. It had been since the day she saw that movie with Julia Roberts. Since then, that’s all she’d talked about. So once he’d moved out of their house and she’d filed the papers and he knew it was over, he’d decided he would go to Bali.

  Perhaps he had made this trip just so he could send her a postcard. That might be what it had all come down to, the idea he would fly across the world to spite her. Send the most beautiful postcard he could find to his old address, where her new family now lived.

  Maybe he would draw a heart. He didn’t know yet. Maybe he would write Fuck You.

  Sage, looking up now, away from his past, realized Kadek had been talking to him as the taxi pulled up behind them and the driver parked and climbed out and retrieved the luggage.

  “Terima kasih,” Sage said, and he thought he said it pretty well. He’d been practicing his tongue roll. You had to hit it just right. Somewhere between the e and the r.

  You had to feel it.

  The driver bowed at Sage and Sage asked him how much he owed him and the driver told him he owed him three hundred-sixty thousand rupiah so Sage gave him four hundred-thousand for good measure and told him to keep the change.

  “Suksma,” the driver said, bowing.

  Sage had to think about that word: suksma, the other thank you. That meant his driver was Balinese and his reply was something like mogwai, but he knew that wasn’t it.

  “You’re welcome,” Sage said, returning the driver’s bow.

  “Mowali,” Kadek said.

  “That’s it,” Sage said. “Mowali.”

  The driver left in his taxi and Kadek helped Sage carry his things across the yard, around the side of the big house, and when they got to the bottom and came to the door Kadek handed Sage the key. “This your key.”

  “Thanks,” Sage said, taking the key and putting it in the lock. He moved it about and the lock opened. He removed the key and opened the door and said, “Home sweet home.”

  “This you place, it nice place,” Kadek said.

  Sage assured him it was, and told him again he was thankful.

  Kadek told Sage to bring his laundry if he wanted and they would take care of it for him, but then he said that was a long drive just for laundry, and that if Sage wanted to save some money he could find a place by Bangkiang Sidem to wash his clothes and they would do it cheap-cheap.

  “You not like ride with so much clothes anyway,” Kadek said. “Hard for you carry on motorbike.”

  Sage thanked him again fo
r all he had done. They shook hands, and Kadek left. Sage approached his new bed. Old and well-worn by the look of it. He sat, and when he lay down he sank to the middle. He did not move, and as long as he did not try to move he was fine, but if he did move a spring would find his back or side.

  He sat up and laughed, but he wasn’t mad. It was funny. And it was cheap. That had been the important thing. Traveling the world on a shoestring budget was something new to him. But this had been a smart move, leaving the villa like he had. Even if his new bed was awkward.

  Sitting up and rolling off the bed and walking to the door, Sage saw a view rich with splendor as he stood on a patch of smooth sandstone, admiring the view straight down the mountain. There were coconut trees stretched long and thin, as tall as the peak of the house; there was an outdoor shower and a private fence that surrounded it, and, walking toward it, looking at the small pool, he remembered what Kadek had told him, that a woman and her husband would come by tomorrow, that she would be his pembantu—his maid—she would clean his room cheap-cheap, and her husband, who would be accompanying her, would maintain the pool, even though, as far as Sage could see, the pool did not need maintaining.

  Sage returned to the room and collapsed on the bed. He felt good. Tired and hot, but very much alive. He rode a motorbike and lived in the jungle and had his own maid.

  He thought about his friends back home and wished they all could see him now.

  ***

  The phone, sitting beside Wayne’s chair on a small chunk of smooth, finely stained wood some ambitious Balinese man had long ago cut from a stump and turned into a table rang, and when Wayne saw who was calling he cursed as he answered, telling himself not to scream at Ngyn then doing it anyway because Wayne had left him a handful of messages, all of which Ngyn ignored, and that was something that infuriated Wayne.

  Now Ngyn wanted to talk.

  “Where the fuck have you been, Ngyn?”

  “It holiday.”

  “Holiday? What the hell’re you talkin’ about a holiday for; this is fucking business, man.”

  Ngyn was defensive. “It Galungan.”

  “Oh fer fuck’s sake.”