it slipped over the lip of the land and shattered far below.
Li indicated a boulder, and my camera. I set up the photo, intending to send Li a copy when it was developed.
I held her as we stared at the falling water.
“This place haunted,” she whispered. “Spirits live here. Sad spirits. People who kill themselves, they cannot leave the Earth.”
I shivered. It was as if, in the humid afternoon, I could feel the presence of the unsuccessfully departed all around me.
“Sad people, they jump from here. Some hit rocks and die, some drown. Then their spirits cannot get away.”
I kissed her.
She murmured, to my chest, “Don’t go.”
“I must. I have work to do.”
“Take me. I can live in London. I have money.”
“It wouldn’t work...” I said, and led her back to the hotel.
It was as if the unparalleled physicality of our liaison pointed up our essential personal incompatibility. Out of bed, we shared nothing, no interests, no culture: only the fact that we were man and woman had brought us together.
She watched me pack. “You can’t leave,” she said.
“Li... it wouldn’t work.”
“The gods, they say we belong together. You cannot say no to the gods.”
“Watch me,” I said, cruelly, as I strapped my case and made to go.
She stared at me. “You will come back. I tell you now, I am only woman who can love you, yes.”
I lowered my case. “Li, you don’t love me. You hardly know me.”
“No!” she cried. “I see into you. I see you bad man, but can be saved.”
It was as if she had reached into my chest and clutched my heart. I felt suddenly cold.
“You bad man!” she yelled at me. “You use women! You always did, for years and years, yes? Use women, walk away!”
I hurried to the door, and paused to look back. She was standing by the bed, slight and tiny. Her expression shocked me: I had expected anger – but she was smiling, as if privy to some secret known only to herself.
Then she said, “Anna, Zoe, Julia, Susan, Olivia, Sabine...” A litany of forgotten names which filled me with something almost like regret, and very real fear.
I almost ran from the hotel.
Later, in London, after Sonia and Karen and all the others, I had cause to recall her words. “ I tell you now, I am only woman who can love you, yes .”
~
“Li,” I called again, and moved through the house.
An open double door led onto a veranda. I stepped through, and found her.
She was sitting in a wheelchair with her back to me, staring out across the river to the dark tangle of the jungle beyond.
I hesitated, my heart labouring.
“You come back,” she said. “I say you come back, no? Sit down.”
A rattan chair was positioned next to her wheelchair, as if in preparation for this audience. Hesitantly, I stepped onto the veranda and sat down next to Li.
She was radiant. Her face glowed with a beauty I recalled from a year ago.
She smiled. “Good to see you, Mistah Grant. I told you we belong together.”
Her words frightened me. I took refuge in a question, indicating her legs covered by a tartan blanket.
“What happened?”
“What happen? I tell you. When you go, I walk into jungle. To waterfall, you know? Then I throw myself down, into water. I want to die, but I know I won’t. You see, I see future, yes?”
“You foresaw this ?” I said, gesturing to the wheelchair.
“The gods, they talked to me. They say they want sacrifice. I had power, but I wanted more. The gods, they say, ‘Jump, and we will give you special powers to do what you want.’”
“And you jumped.”
“Broke my back. Fisherman, he found me, carried me home. I live, my magic stronger than ever.”
I was silent for a minute. “You’ve made my life hell,” I said at last.
She stared at me with massive eyes, her articulate lips amused. “No, Mistah Grant. You made your life hell. You used me, other women. Look.” And she pointed across the river.
I made out, on the far shore, faint figures. They stood
Li indicated a boulder, and my camera. I set up the photo, intending to send Li a copy when it was developed.
I held her as we stared at the falling water.
“This place haunted,” she whispered. “Spirits live here. Sad spirits. People who kill themselves, they cannot leave the Earth.”
I shivered. It was as if, in the humid afternoon, I could feel the presence of the unsuccessfully departed all around me.
“Sad people, they jump from here. Some hit rocks and die, some drown. Then their spirits cannot get away.”
I kissed her.
She murmured, to my chest, “Don’t go.”
“I must. I have work to do.”
“Take me. I can live in London. I have money.”
“It wouldn’t work...” I said, and led her back to the hotel.
It was as if the unparalleled physicality of our liaison pointed up our essential personal incompatibility. Out of bed, we shared nothing, no interests, no culture: only the fact that we were man and woman had brought us together.
She watched me pack. “You can’t leave,” she said.
“Li... it wouldn’t work.”
“The gods, they say we belong together. You cannot say no to the gods.”
“Watch me,” I said, cruelly, as I strapped my case and made to go.
She stared at me. “You will come back. I tell you now, I am only woman who can love you, yes.”
I lowered my case. “Li, you don’t love me. You hardly know me.”
“No!” she cried. “I see into you. I see you bad man, but can be saved.”
It was as if she had reached into my chest and clutched my heart. I felt suddenly cold.
“You bad man!” she yelled at me. “You use women! You always did, for years and years, yes? Use women, walk away!”
I hurried to the door, and paused to look back. She was standing by the bed, slight and tiny. Her expression shocked me: I had expected anger – but she was smiling, as if privy to some secret known only to herself.
Then she said, “Anna, Zoe, Julia, Susan, Olivia, Sabine...” A litany of forgotten names which filled me with something almost like regret, and very real fear.
I almost ran from the hotel.
Later, in London, after Sonia and Karen and all the others, I had cause to recall her words. “ I tell you now, I am only woman who can love you, yes .”
~
“Li,” I called again, and moved through the house.
An open double door led onto a veranda. I stepped through, and found her.
She was sitting in a wheelchair with her back to me, staring out across the river to the dark tangle of the jungle beyond.
I hesitated, my heart labouring.
“You come back,” she said. “I say you come back, no? Sit down.”
A rattan chair was positioned next to her wheelchair, as if in preparation for this audience. Hesitantly, I stepped onto the veranda and sat down next to Li.
She was radiant. Her face glowed with a beauty I recalled from a year ago.
She smiled. “Good to see you, Mistah Grant. I told you we belong together.”
Her words frightened me. I took refuge in a question, indicating her legs covered by a tartan blanket.
“What happened?”
“What happen? I tell you. When you go, I walk into jungle. To waterfall, you know? Then I throw myself down, into water. I want to die, but I know I won’t. You see, I see future, yes?”
“You foresaw this ?” I said, gesturing to the wheelchair.
“The gods, they talked to me. They say they want sacrifice. I had power, but I wanted more. The gods, they say, ‘Jump, and we will give you special powers to do what you want.’”
“And you jumped.”
“Broke my back. Fisherman, he found me, carried me home. I live, my magic stronger than ever.”
I was silent for a minute. “You’ve made my life hell,” I said at last.
She stared at me with massive eyes, her articulate lips amused. “No, Mistah Grant. You made your life hell. You used me, other women. Look.” And she pointed across the river.
I made out, on the far shore, faint figures. They stood
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