Jade (3 page)

I’m starting to think that I’ve had a hallucination when his head pops up in front of me.

A very handsome head it is, that is, if you don’t care for hair, and I have an open mind on the subject. His skull has a very regular shape and his eyes are wide and perfectly symmetrical. I love symmetry. There’s not enough light for me to see if the eyes are brown or black but they’re witty. Very wide lips open on even teeth. Not perfect but close enough. The mouth speaks. Oh. My. God. He’s drop dead handsome.

“So, you’re a virgin?”

I’m so surprised that I open my mouth, water rushes in. I try to cough it out but I can’t. I choke; I’ve swallowed so much water that I can’t breath. I’m going to die, and the irony’s not lost on me: I’m dying a virgin! 

The strange thing is that I’m not in a state of panic; I feel an amazing sense of relief. I’m ready to let go. I’m so not ready to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life that, for an instant, I’m fine with drowning. It’s cool, because if I drown, I won’t have to make a choice and then spend the rest of my life wondering if it was the right one.  

Before I go under, I see that James and Agatha are still on the other bank. They’re so wrapped up in each other that they haven’t noticed a thing. My vision blurs as my heads goes under the water.

Strong arms get a hold of me and press on my ribcage. My head is above water now, and water comes out of my lungs. I cough and gasp for air. My lungs fill, and I’m breathing again. I look at my savior’s face. I’m pretty sure, I just spat in his face! 

The first time I think a man is interesting, and I manage to set a new record for the world’s worst first impression!

As my heart beat returns to normal, I become aware of his hands gently resting on my hips, and of my breasts crushing against his hard body. He’s hard, I mean really hard. 

He’s smirking, and I smile. Maybe I did not make such a bad impression, after all. 

I push away without letting go. I doubt I’m able to swim or float on my own yet.  

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod. I’m unsure that I can speak. If I do, I’ll probably sound like a cartoon duck.

“Hello Red, I’m Oliver. It’s nice to meet you.” The smirk is still plastered on his face.

I breathe in once more, and say, “Jade, my name is Jade.” My voice is a bit raspy. My throat hurts when I speak.  

Now he’s grinning like I just said something really funny.

“Seriously?”  

I nod again.

“Now, Jade, are you feeling okay or do you want help to swim back to shore?”

“Fine” I whisper. 

He releases me, and I swim away. I climb out of the water, wrap myself in the sarong, and wipe my hair with the towel. I glance in the direction of James and Agatha. They’re swimming back towards me, and talking to each other in hushed tones.

James gets out of the water and pulls Agatha out.

“Where’s Oliver gone?” James asks looking at me.

I look towards the pond and shrug. I have no clue but I’d really like to know. I think I like this man.

❦

CHAPTER FOUR

I WAKE UP WRAPPED IN my sarong. I remember removing my wet bathing suit, brushing my teeth, rolling my dirty T-shirt in a ball to make a pillow, and lying down on my bed. That’s it. In a second, I was dead to the world.

It’s 5 AM and all my muscles are sore. My back is stiff as I painfully pull myself up. I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off sleeping directly on the floor. I’m covered in sweat; it’s time for another bath in the river. I prepare some clean clothes, open the door, and tiptoe into the hall. Almost all the other doors are open, and, when a light breeze sweeps through, I realize it’s not as hot and stuffy as it was in my room. Live and learn: tonight I’m sleeping with my door open to share the draft.

A dog sleeps by the door of the building, too skinny to be a watch-dog. He opens his eyes, gets up, and wags his tail with so much energy that the rest of his body sways. He comes closer to greet me. I scratch his head, and say “Good morning, Wag-dog. Wanna walk with me to the river? You can watch my stuff while I take my bath.”

Wow, this small talk thing is growing on me. Wag-dog follows me to the pond. I lift my arm, and smell myself: yuck. Maybe it’s too bad of a smell, even for the dog, because he goes back home.

I get in at the shallowest part of the river, soak myself entirely, and wash from head to toe. I’m happy with my maintenance-free cut. I dive under the water to rinse my hair, and swim across the pond. It’s a delicious sensation, like soaking in wet silk. I come back up for hair, and Oliver is standing on the other side of the pond. He’s hung his own clothes next to mine. He smiles. I smile back. I take in the broad shoulders, the muscular torso, and a little padding around the waist. I like that he’s not a perfect Y. My eyes go down to his hips, and, shit, he’s naked. And so am I. 

I’m surprised that it bothers me. Before I worked at the lab, I did an internship at the local morgue. Yeah, I know, it sounds freaky, but I had a good reason for it. I was considering a degree in forensic science. During those months, I saw more than a few lifetime-shares of naked bodies. 

I guess the difference is that Oliver’s body is very much alive. He laughs and dives into the water.

Three strokes later, and he’s by my side.

“You never answered my question yesterday.”

His eyes are not black: they’re deep brown, like the melted chocolate of a lava cake. 

Why are all the images that go through my mind food related? Maybe it’s because there’s nothing else that is brown and looks yummy? 

“What made you ask?”

“What Agatha said. Why would she point out the obvious if it didn’t need to be told?”

“Right. Good deduction,” I sigh. Thank you Agatha.  

“You must be the oldest virgin on this side of the Mekong,” he says, swimming in circles around me.

“Possible, but I own it.”

“So why did you choke yesterday?”  

“Because you took me by surprise.” Judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t understand, so I explain. “I’m usually the blunt one… you know, the one that asks inappropriate questions. Even with my lack of social skills, I know that asking a woman of my age if she’s a virgin is inappropriate.”

He mocks me. “A woman of your age? How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m twenty-two. I know that’s not old per se, but it’s old not be sexually active. Oh, hell, why am I explaining? You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. So, what happened? You wanted be a nun?”

“I’m not sure being a virgin is required to become a nun.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“No, I’m not, I’m just thinking out loud. How come I’m still a virgin? I freak the guys away.”  

“You’re kidding me,” he says. He thinks about it for an instant, and then asks, “What do you think scares them?”

“Too big a mouth, and probably too big of an ass.”

He’s still swimming around me. It’s getting unnerving. At my back, he says, “Maybe the real problem is that you’ve been around boys, not men.” I can swear he’s looking at my butt as he says it.

“You may have a point, there.”   

“What about kissing?” He asks, now treading water in front of me.

“Ditto.”

“Wouldn’t you like to try?”

I look at him. I’m not sure what he’s asking.

“It’s not a rhetorical question; I’m offering to show you.”

My brain freezes for a few seconds. I’m doubly stumped. First, there’s my brain; it’s never done that before. It usually processes everything that life throws at me. Second, there’s Oliver. He’s taken me off balance for the second time in two days. No one’s ever done that to me. 

My silence is an obvious consent. He closes in on me.

I don’t move back. My heart rate is slightly more elevated than usual. I think he sees how tense I am, because he jokes to put me at ease, “It’s a first for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a virgin, before.”

He pauses, and reels me in. I’m the one who closes the distance and I can feel that his lips are smiling as they reach mine. The analytical part of my brain sparks for a minute. I’ve finally met someone who I want to kiss, and I’m going to find out what the fuss is all about.  

I shut it out, and concentrate on the sensation. He’s soft and sweet and very delicate. His mouth opens on mine and his tongue caresses my lips. It tickles in a good way, not a funny one. I part my lips open, and I surprise myself. I’m not thinking about germs, or the exchange of bodily fluids. I’m actually enjoying this. 

I enjoy it so much that I forget to move my legs to stay afloat. I start to sink, and he catches me, again. His large hands are on my back, drawing me closer. Well, not that close, because my two air bags are in the way. Strangely, they seem more inflated than usual; maybe it’s their reaction to their scratching against his chest. Hmmm. His hands slide down my back, and I don’t mind … and then he pulls away.

“So, what do you think?” He asks with a cocky smile.

I blush and answer truthfully, “I think this could be addictive.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like crack or heroin.”

“Seriously?” His tone indicates surprise.

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, peanuts or potato chips.”

“That’s too small-time for the likes of me. I have an addictive personality disorder.” 

I know better than to tell him that there’s a chemical explanation, it’s related to my dopamine levels. A discussion on neurotransmitters would probably kill the playful mood.

“What are you addicted to?”

“Learning, music, and food. Not always in that order.”

“Then I think that’s enough for today,” he says. Boy does he appear happy with himself. “We don’t want you walking around with withdrawal symptoms, kissing perfect strangers.”

I’m disappointed, but I’m not about to admit it. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you for the experiment, I appreciate the effort.”

“Don’t mention it, the pleasure was all mine.”

“See you around,” I say. I turn my back to him, and swim to shore. When I reach the landing, he’s swimming in the other direction, with perfect butterfly strokes. He has good shoulders, and a great back. Oh, a great ass too.

I get out of the water, and give myself a mental slap. Stop looking, girl; take your stuff, and walk away to get dressed in privacy.  

❦

I reach the building feeling a lot fresher that when I left it and I’m feeling a tiny bit dreamy, too. Kissing’s nice. 

I smell coffee and my nose helps me find the room that serves as a refectory. It’s probably the same furniture that was here when the monks were running the place. There are three long wooden tables with attached benches, like a rest area in a public park. On one table, there’s a kind of buffet set up, and there’s a bunch of people sitting at the others. 

Agatha’s there already, keeping an empty space next to her; she signals me to help myself and come join her. I look at the selection. There’s coffee and tea. I pass, as I don’t drink hot beverages, even in the dead of winter. There’s Miso Soup, an interesting breakfast choice. There are also noodles with vegetables, white unidentifiable protein on little bamboo skewers covered with a sate sauce so pungent that I can’t tell if the protein is fish or chicken. Last, there’s sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, and an assortment of fresh fruits. I go for the safety of the sticky rice and fruits. 

I sit with Agatha, and eat my rice while she tells me about my job. It’s going to be lab work. Stuff that I can do in my sleep, she says, and, most of the time, it should only keep me busy for half the day. I get to pick if I want to work morning or afternoon, as long as I coordinate with the other technicians for the use of the lab space; different projects are being carried out in the facility. The rest of the time I’m my own person. I can ask her driver to take me to the city when she has no need for him, and I can do rounds and collect samples with her. I can go visit the temples, too. There’s tons of stuff to do.

She rushes out with James today to go visit a Mong tribe up on the hills. They’ll be back in the evening.

❦

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER AGATHA LEAVES, I FIND the lab. It’s the largest room on the ground floor, and it has a big ceiling fan that circulates the air fast enough that, for an instant, the room almost seems fresher than the others. 

There are four working stations. A very soft-spoken Lao girl appears to be the person on duty. I can see her cringing when she looks at my red hair. Despite her obvious repulsion, she shows me where I should set up shop. Her name is Vieng Neun. 

Soon, the room gets busy. There are a couple of guys from Belgium who are working on mineral samples. I glance in their direction, and remember how much I dislike geology. 

Their English is limited, and the little French I speak is of no use: they are from the Flemmish-speaking side of the country. Those two won’t be a distraction.

The same goes for the team from Japan. They appear to be studying water samples. Now that could be interesting except that I can’t communicate with them. Their English is rudimentary, and the only thing I know in Japanese is fish names I’ve learned in restaurants. Unless they discover a salmon or an eel in their sample, I won’t be able say a word to them.  

Two large refrigerators are available to store the sample works that need to be kept fresh. They are directly connected to their own generator, and I quickly understand why; the power dies thirty seconds after I turn on the microscope. The electricity supplied by the town is moody. My mind drifts back to the pond and the kiss, while I wait for the electricity to return.

When it does, I can turn the microscope back on, and reach for Agatha’s samples. They are on the top shelve of one fridge. I recognize her handwriting on the collecting boxes. She’s meticulous, everything’s dated and numbered. Whoever I’m replacing has been gone a few weeks. There’s a lot of work to be done. I put on my headphones to tune out the conversations of my coworkers, and get to it.