‘Stop.’ Maria turns and puts her hand up. ‘You have to stop this. I’m not Oprah Winfrey, am I? I might be visiting Asian temples but I can’t solve your problems. I can only offer you some fun, something which you seem to know little about.’
I open my mouth to reply but nothing comes, like a fish on ice on a market stall waiting to die. I scowl instead and Maria laughs, nudges me playfully. We walk the rest of the way without speaking.
The sky is crimson tinged when we arrive at the beach.
‘Where to tonight?’ Maria scans the area. ‘There looks promising.’ She points to a spot near a bunch of young local men playing volleyball.
I follow her. Maria pulls a royal blue sarong out of her bag, unfurls it and lays it on the white sand.
‘Now, let’s relax and enjoy the view.’
The guys are lean and muscular. Their brown skin is smooth. Some have their long black hair in high top buns, others have theirs loose and flowing down their backs. They wear board shorts with colourful print designs.
I look around and notice that we aren’t the only young women there. Or white women. Some drink, some sun themselves, some read. Some are solo, and others are in pairs.
A whistle is blown, there’s jeering from the game, commotion. The men high five and then check the beach. Get deployed.
One approaches. ‘Maria, indah, how are you this night?’ he says and kisses her cheek.
‘I’m good, Zander. This is Natalie, she’s in my guesthouse.’
He appraises me. ‘Natalie, beautiful lady. You are loving Bali?’
I give him a half-hearted smile.
‘You gotta meet my pal Jacob. Jacob,’ he calls behind him.
Jacob comes over; sweat shimmers on his chest. He pants. ‘Hey bro,’ he says and shakes Zander’s hand.
‘Meet the friend of Maria. She is good, no,’ Zander says and his lip curls. ‘Big girl. Big love.’
I follow the interaction unsure of what’s going on. It’s happening pretty quickly. ‘Hi.’ I let Jacob kiss my cheek. I get a hint of sweat and something cherry flavoured off his hair.
‘Beers?’ Maria asks.
‘This lady. Clever,’ Zander says. ‘She has everything.’
‘And this man,’ Maria says and smiles at him, ‘could charm fish out of the trees. Come on, Nat, let’s get some drinks in.’
I walk dazed behind Maria. The sky’s azure blue is now tracked with deep orange shades and red flares. The moon wanes, looming overhead like someone exiled and sulking.
At the bar, I recognize Western pop music.
Maria shouts, ‘Isn’t this fun?’
I don’t answer.
‘Do you want something harder?’ Maria asks.
‘No, a beer is fine.’
Maria downs a shot of arak and buys four bottles of beer, passing two to me. Icy tears of condensation run off them.
We trundle across the beach in the evening heat. I kick sand out of my sandals. The sunset casts the sky a fiery orange and scarlet and the wisps of clouds are ominous shadows. I try to shake away some mosquitoes but my hands are full.
Zander strums on a ukulele. Jacob takes it from him and tunes it. A different woman sits on a small hotel-room towel beside our spot. She is maybe in her late fifties or early sixties and has soft fleshy arms, a kind smile. Her hair is a brassy ginger colour.
‘Hey you guys, I’m Bev,’ she says enthusiastically as we approach.
‘We’ve met already,’ Maria says. She gives me a look.
I smile at Bev but Maria glowers. Zander makes a little insect, a sort of grasshopper, from bamboo leaf for Bev. He slides it in her hair.
She grins at him.
I look at it and realize it’s a flower, not an insect.
Jacob puts the uke down and takes a beer. He cheers and taps his bottle off mine. ‘You are from England?’
‘Ireland.’
‘Where?’ he says and smiles in his confusion, all his perfect white teeth showing.
‘It’s beside England,’ I say and put my right hand out. ‘England is here, Ireland is here.’ I try to show in the empty space of my palm where Ireland would be on the map.
Jacob remains smiling. ‘You are very beautiful.’
I blush hard.
‘Shy? You are shy?’
I bow my head and take a big gulp of beer.
Bev asks Zander to sing a song. ‘He has such a great voice, a Balinese Johnny Cash.’
Maria says, ‘I know. He sang to me last night.’
Bev presses a smile so tight, her top lip disappears.
Zander picks up the uke and strums it gently. He mumbles a song that I vaguely recall the melody and words of but can’t place.
Jacob traces my hand with his index finger. His touch makes me jump initially and he smiles at this. ‘It’s okay,’ he says.
I relax and allow him to continue. The sun is a livid red now as it gets swallowed by the ocean.
I lie down on the sarong. Jacob gently touches my fingers and places his hand into mine. A bird flies above us cawing manically like it’s calling out for a lost child. The beer is going to my head. Zander sings on gently. Women laugh in little groups nearby, with their own beach boys charming them.
I look at Jacob and think he could be almost ten years younger than me. He’s maybe eighteen or nineteen. Or is he older? I can’t judge the age of people here. His body is broad. He has little white scars all over his chest and arms, tiny. I wonder what happened to him. I wonder what kind of life he leads.
The sun finally surrenders.
Maria, Zander and Jacob go to get more beers for everyone. Bev and I sit and wait.
‘I love it here,’ Bev says. ‘I feel young again.’
‘Yeah, maybe I could learn to like the place,’ I say. ‘This evening has been nice.’
‘You’re going to hang out with Wayan for the night?’
‘Who?’
‘Wayan. No. Excuse me, I meant Jacob, that’s the name he’s taken lately.’
‘I dunno,’ I say and a warm sensation floods my stomach. ‘Maybe. He seems sweet.’
‘He’s a good kid. His wife is carrying their second child so he needs the money. It’s interesting how they set them free from their families to provide. Not bad work if you can get it for these boys though, eh?’
‘Wait, what?’ I say, feeling like I’ve just woken from a dream.
‘You don’t have to pay him anything but it probably would be a good gesture to give him a little something. He needs the money for his family.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Bev looks at me with pity. ‘It’s a big world, isn’t it? You know, back home in Arizona, I’m a waitress. I save my tips for the whole year to come out here for a month. In the States, people look down on me. An old divorced childless woman, waiting tables, too old to find a new man, too old to learn new tricks. Over here, I’m rich. I’m attractive.’ She puts her hands up to the darkening sky. ‘This heavenly place.’
My skin flakes as I itch my mosquito bites, the fresh and the old ones. My vision blurs a bit so I pinch my eyelids.
I stand and wipe the sand from my legs.
‘I have to go, Bev. These bites. I need to put lotion on them before they bleed.’
Maria and the boys are coming, all laughing, holding beers. I give a quick wave and trudge through the sand, get off the beach.
The merchants shout as I walk through the high street.
‘Miss.’ A waiter pushes a menu at me, obstructs my way with it. ‘Yes?’
Don’t do this, Natalie. There’s dinner at the guesthouse.
‘You want’ he says and his eyebrows flash.