One More Time (13 page)

The beach was pitch black but a dog I’d befriended was following me so I felt secure. There was music coming from down beside the moonlit sea—four people singing, and a guitar for accompaniment.

I don’t believe it!

It was Serena, strumming the guitar. She was in midsong as I approached, but realising who it was she sprang up to her feet and threw her arms around me in a warm embrace.

‘Serena! I can’t believe it. It’s good to see you.’

‘You too, look at you!’ she laughed.

‘I met Sean in Varanasi; we chased a dead woman through the streets,’ she explained to the group she was with.

I’d drowned my sorrows after my call to Mam
earlier that day and was now too drunk to remember their names. I managed to take in that they were all ‘great friends’, even though she had met them just hours before while taking a stroll along the ocean. She described it in such a relaxed manner that bonding on the beach, it seemed, was a common event around here.

‘You met in Varanasi?’ said a curly haired guy with a groan. ‘That’s a hole of a place. Everyone with their hands out, pleading for something. I couldn’t handle it.’

Serena threw a sharp look in his direction but it didn’t seem to faze him. I took Serena for a giver not a taker.

‘Still, I got to see some wicked bonfires,’ he continued. ‘They sure send off their dead in a blaze!’

‘Come on, who’s up for a song?’ Serena interrupted, picking up the guitar once again. ‘Can you play?’ she whispered in my ear.

I took the guitar in my hands. Though it had been a while since I had last played or sung, drunk or sober, I generally performed well. This was where playing by ear was good: while a trained musician might need sheet music to get them through a song, a self-taught musician can always wing it.

I plucked firstly on the E string. The guitar was out of tune, I could tell that. Carefully I started to tune the
it, plucking the strings and getting my fingers warmed up on the neck.

‘What sort of song is that?’ laughed one of the blokes.

‘This is what they call—’ I stopped for effect ‘—“Tuning the Guitar”.’ Serena let out a burst of laughter and rested a hand on my knee.

Finally I was satisfied the guitar was in tune and I put my fingers in place for a B minor strum. I began ‘Hotel California’ and as I played and sang I felt alive and invincible. It was like being reunited with an old friend you’d never really wanted to part from.

There was applause when I finished and the group began to call it a night. ‘My God, man, you’ve got some voice on you…’

‘Wow! Who the hell are you? Are you like a professional muso or something?’ And they drifted away down the beach.

After a while Serena and I were alone. Finding her again like this was more than I’d hoped for. ‘What happened to you in Varanasi? You just vanished into thin air!’ I said to her at last.

‘I didn’t vanish, you lost me!’ Her eyes were glowing under the moonlit night and her smile was electric. She bent down to pick up the guitar, which I had laid
down on the sand, and together we started to walk along the beach.

‘I looked all over for you but couldn’t find you anywhere.’

Serena laughed gently. ‘When we were running through the streets, somehow I managed to take a wrong turn…’

The conversation continued, lively then murmuring. It was a strange walk, underlined with desires which both us seemed to be avoiding. We must have stayed on that beach for nearly three hours before one of us took the initiative.

I wanted Serena to lead the way rather than me. With any other girl I would have tried it on long before then, but Serena had caught me in a different way and I didn’t want any dumb move by me to interfere with what was already a great thing.

She began to kiss me. Soon we were undressing each other. And there on the night beach we began devouring one another’s bodies.

As I ran my fingers over her breasts and continued down between her legs, my head filled with how utterly stunning she was. We made love that night beneath the moonlit sky, beside the gentle hush of the sea—no inhibitions, both consumed by our every
movement. The world no longer existed. When at last we had exhausted ourselves, we lay naked in the sand until eventually we fell asleep, Serena’s head resting upon my outstretched arm.

When I awoke as the sun began to rise the next morning we were in exactly the same position.

Serena woke with a shudder. ‘Oh my God!’ She reached for her underwear and began dressing. ‘How’d we sleep so long?’

The early morning sun was gentle and warming. Within minutes we’d dressed. There was an initial awkwardness, but back at my beach hut we undressed again and picked up where we’d left off the night before.

We remained there for most of that day and the next, mainly talking. ‘You’ve got a lot going on in your head, Sean.’ Serena had known me for less time than anyone else, but seemed to understand me so much better. She knew that I worried a lot, she knew that I struggled to sleep. She even knew that something had driven me away from Ireland. Her knowing felt good.

We enjoyed a meal in a local restaurant and then took a lazy walk along the beach. Daytime soon became night, and as we sat watching the sunset I was more at peace than ever before.

‘You know I’m going tomorrow?’

In a way I wasn’t surprised. ‘Why tomorrow?’ I asked, trying hard to conceal my disappointment.

‘I’ve already booked my flight. I’m heading back to Delhi and from there it’s either home or Nepal, I don’t know which!’

‘Where in Nepal?’

‘Perhaps back to Pokhara. It’s heavenly!’

There is an unspoken rule about travelling; it’s something you pick up on quite fast. Everybody is on their own retreat, whether it be world discovery, self-discovery or simply a case of running away. Whatever the type, travellers all have one thing in common: they’re all on solo missions. Even when people travel in groups, each person is on their own quest. Some people go crazy when they travel; they do every mad thing they’ve wanted to do back home but never felt confident or free enough to do. Then there are others who relax, totally backtrack and unwind, commit to nothing and avoid any sort of interaction. There’s a world of different scenarios: shy girls going wild and shagging every man they meet; men sleeping with prostitutes; people eating dog or cat or whatever animal is on the menu; thrill-seekers, drug-takers, troublemakers; the list goes on.
The main thing is that for everybody nothing is stationary; what happens comes and goes, and everybody’s always moving on.

Serena and I had been intimate but, like all travellers, she was on her journey and I was on mine. Saying she was leaving soon meant exactly that, and her plans wouldn’t involve me. We both knew it. But when it came to saying goodbye, it was harder for me in many ways than leaving home had been.

‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’ve a feeling we’re going to meet again. There’s something kind of right about you and me.’

‘Absolutely. I’ll email you. We’ll stay in touch.’

‘We have to make sure we find each other again!’

‘Come to Ireland, meet me there!’

‘No, you come to Australia!’ she laughed.

I didn’t want our time to end, and I looked for something solid to work towards.

‘I’ll tell you what. When is your birthday?’

‘November thirtieth.’

‘Alright, that’s about two months away. If we haven’t bumped into each other again, I’ll make my way to Oz and I’ll be standing at your front door singing “Hotel California”.’

She laughed. ‘That’s a deal!’

We kissed. Neither of us wanted to let go. Everything had come to an end so fast.

Serena’s taxi pulled away down the mucky main road of Palolem and moments later she was out of sight. And once again out of my life.

‘Sean, you wake, you wake!’

The words filtered in and out of my head. It was some time before I realised that somebody was trying to rouse me. Finally I opened my eyes.

Everything was blurry at first, a mismatch of green and grey. The back of my head throbbed.

A face came into view, unclear. He was standing over me with the light behind his head. I couldn’t quite distinguish him at first. His voice, however, was familiar.

‘Akio?
Is that you?’ I forced my aching body to sit up.

‘Yes, it is me, Sean. You okay, Sean?’

His voice was comforting to hear and, as my eyesight returned, a familiar face was exactly what I needed—even if it was Akio’s.

‘Ah, I think you not-o watch what you were doing, you fall like how I did.’ Akio laughed slightly, and then sighed as he watched me explore the back of my head with my fingers. ‘Oh very painful, your head not look so good-o.’

The back of my head was matted with dried blood. So how long had I been unconscious?

‘You very lucky, your head must be very strong.’

Akio was right. I’d landed against a huge boulder, the protruding edge of which had taken part of my fall. Blood marked the spot. How the hell was I not dead?

I sat dazed for a while, in shock. Nothing particular went through my mind. Just waves of disbelief and disorientation. Akio remained silent also, giving me time. Then one thought came, overpoweringly: If I hadn’t survived the fall, I’d never see Serena again.

Tears began to fall from my eyes. ‘I can’t believe…I was nearly killed!’

I looked up to the huge sky. Akio remained silent, unmoved; but I was in disarray. Rituals, prayers, thoughts; instead of protecting me, they’d nearly killed me.

I left home because of damn rituals! My family, the people that I love most—the demands are killing me!

As distraught and foolish as I was, I saw one thing clearly: enough is enough.

Akio took a mouthful of water from his flask. There was something odd about his appearance. He looked perfectly healthy! Not a cut or a bruise in sight. He even had his backpack strapped on his shoulders, although I’d have sworn he hadn’t had it when I’d watched him being chased by the Maoists.

He must have got away! Or maybe it wasn’t him? Maybe I still wasn’t seeing or hearing right?

‘What are you doing here?’ I said, conscious of the uneasiness in my voice. ‘How’d you get here? I thought you were dead. I thought the Maoists had killed you.’

‘Not dead, I escaped. They shoot but Akio much too fast for stupid Maoists!’ He laughed again, smug.

‘Too fast!’ I was confused. ‘I watched you being chased, and they had you cornered.’ While Akio had been a welcome voice earlier, now, realising that he was actually here, felt eerie. My head hurt badly.

‘You need to rest, I think,’ said Akio. Then he lowered his head. ‘Anyhow, I not-o want to talk about it, very frightening.’

‘Akio, tell me.’

It was all becoming clearer now. I remembered how Akio hadn’t paid the Maoists, how angry I was that he’d put us all at risk.

And Mani. Poor Mani. All that had happened at Chomrung came crashing back on me. Why, in the last days of his life, had Mani had to meet up with somebody like Akio?

‘No,’ replied Akio. ‘There is nothing to talk about. I escape Maoists and I find you. Nothing else is important. You should be happy that I find you!’

Amazingly, having survived my fall, I could feel myself getting annoyed with Akio again!

‘Look at me,’ I said dully. ‘Mani died this morning.’

Akio’s face fell. ‘Mani, he is dead?’ His voice was low. ‘How?’

‘His stomach. He’d been having pains since I started the trek with him. Probably had them before then too, I don’t know.’ I reflected for a moment, my mind slightly tingling for a ritual that I denied it. ‘I didn’t think he was as sick as he was. I don’t think he did either. The poor sod was dying all along.’

Akio’s eyes filled up with sorrow. He turned away. Why was he so upset, I wondered, he hardly even knew the guy.

‘Did you,’ he asked quietly, ‘pray for him?’

What?
Praying and religion were the last things I thought would be of any concern to Akio.

He turned to face me and repeated the question.

‘Did you pray for him?’

‘Yes,’ I answered, slightly shaken. ‘Yes, of course I did.’ I calmed myself again. ‘Why do you ask? Are you a religious person, Akio?’

Akio’s demeanour was disturbing; his eyes were cold and empty, blank and expressionless. They gave away something dark, unsettling, and abruptly I felt frightened to be with him.

‘I not-o religious, but I think that you are. Maybe you the reason why Mani die!’

My mouth fell open. What the hell?

Akio stood over me again, like an interrogator this time.

‘Maybe if I stay with you—’ he pointed a finger down at me—‘I die too. You not so good-o in the head.’

‘Wait a minute! Who are you to talk to me like that? There’s nothing wrong with my head. You’re the one who’s got a screw loose.’

‘Not me,’ Akio sneered. ‘I not the one who is praying all the time. You say same prayer all the time. You not good-o in your head. You crazy.’

He had witnessed something when we were in Ulleri, but I didn’t think I was bad enough back then for him to have thought I was crackers. I tried to rise to my feet to confront him, but the pain in my head dragged me back, forced me to remain where I was.

‘If I could get up I’d knock you out, Akio. You’re nothing but a prick. You’ve been that way since I met you.’

Akio wasn’t bothered. He just stared back at me with cold intensity.

‘I hear you when you asleep after you fall down here—you talk all the time. Saying prayers. I hear you say that you not-o kill Mani. And—’ Akio shook his head as though he were utterly repelled by me—‘you say evil things just like you the devil.’

I was dumbstruck; I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

‘Me, the devil!’

‘You! Why you think so horrible about people? You want to harm everyone? Your family too?’

I was appalled.

‘Horrible things, my family? What are you talking about? I would never wish any harm to my family!’

As the last words left my mouth I suddenly realised what I must have been saying when I was unconscious.
Both of us were silent. Tears began to well in my eyes. I saw times spent with my family, happy times. I wiped my eyes but the tears continued to fall. Akio just looked at me, waiting.

‘I’ve never hurt anyone and I never wanted to harm my family. I was always frightened for them!’ The words left my mouth in a sob. ‘I’ve always prayed, always worried that something was going to happen to people, anyone, especially my family. If I didn’t wash my hands properly, something bad would happen; if I didn’t pray properly, something bad would happen; if I didn’t rub my hands properly, something bad would happen. If I didn’t do so many different things, something awful would happen. Do you know what that’s like, Akio? Do you know what it’s fucking like to have to do things over and over and over again to make sure that nothing bad ever happens to anybody?’

Akio looked at me sceptically. He was listening but I didn’t think he was hearing exactly what I was saying.

‘It’s hell
!’ I cried at the top of my voice. ‘How do you think you’d feel if you spent every hour of every day reciting things in your head, things that just drove you nuts. You wouldn’t be able to handle it, Akio, not you and not anybody else.’

I broke off, the tears streaming down my face. Akio said nothing. He turned away from me again.

‘Akio, it’s why I left Ireland, why I’m here. I couldn’t deal with it any more. All the fucking rituals and prayers were bad enough—but the other stuff, the new stuff, that was just too much.’

The images and the memories were sitting at the front of my mind and they were as terrifying as before. ‘Visions, awful visions of my family dying suddenly, my friends being murdered. It was terrifying. I couldn’t even sleep at home any more. I was scared beyond belief that during the night something would happen to them all.’

It was a relief to be speaking about everything aloud.

‘Things got worse and worse and worse.’ I spoke slowly. ‘I couldn’t sleep any more, thoughts would circle in my head and I would have to perform ritual after ritual to make sure that everybody would be okay. But still the images were terrifying. And I started to ask myself, why was I thinking such things about my family? Was I worried for them or was I willing terrible things to happen to them?

‘My family are my life, I would do anything for them. I had no choice but to leave.’ I took a deep
breath. ‘I figured that the further away I was from everyone, the less danger I would be to them. One morning I just packed my bags and took the first flight out of Ireland—didn’t tell anyone where I was going or why. Who would understand anyway?’

This was the first time I’d actually confessed all this. Now, hearing it, I heard the stupidity of it all too. How stupid must Akio have thought I was.

‘But nothing change!’ Akio’s words were harsh but true. ‘You still sick-o in the head. You dangerous man! You need to be stopped before you hurt more.’ Quickly he bent down and grabbed something from the ground. As he rose again, the object in his right hand came clearly into view.

‘No! Akio, please don’t.’ The words left my mouth in desperation.

‘Please, Akio, please don’t, please don’t—’

Akio lunged towards me, his right arm swinging. A gasp left my lips as I tried to protect myself. But it was hopeless. The rock in his hand smashed hard against the side of my head and threw me backwards. I grappled blindly with him, trying to release the weapon from his hand—but he freed his arm. A second blow made contact and then I couldn’t move.

I lay flat on my back staring into the sky. Suddenly Akio came into view again, a vicious look on his face. He raised his arm again and delivered a final blow to my face, and everything went blank.