IN YER FACE

O n the table is a pancake covered in pineapple, mango, papaya and banana, drizzled with condensed milk. The table we sit at is by the river, in an open area in front of one of the restaurants. The sun is gentle on us, still hot but comfortable. I feel fresh after my cold shower. All drug and alcohol after-effects have left me. I’m relaxed, loose. Facing the river, I watch it drop in a white block over a shelf of rock into a calm black pool, where it gathers speed and bubbles off into shallower waters.

‘Dig in, man. These are the best fucking pancakes ever.’ Kim puts a forkful in his mouth. ‘Oh yeah.’

The six of us are there, dressed in a varied array of T-shirts, shorts and sarongs. I have my first taste. The fruit tastes like fruit should, juicy and full of flavour and nothing taken out or added or preserved. ‘So did you have a good night?’ This is the first time Naomi has spoken to me since before we got on the bus. She pulls at a scraggly dreadlock. Kim laughs and raises an eyebrow.

‘Yes. I did, thanks.’ I look to the river where three Indonesians have just jumped in from the far side and are splashing each other.

‘So, was she a prozzie?’ asks Julie.

Kim laughs again.

‘Well, I didn’t sleep with her, so I guess not.’

‘She took your money though, man.’

‘Shut up, Kim. I didn’t sleep with her and it was never on offer. I just paid for her taxi back.’ And why the fuck do I have to explain myself?

‘She went back with you, then,’ says Naomi, separating mango from her pancake and leaving it on the side of her plate. ‘She was very pretty.’

‘Look. Nothing happened. She was a really nice girl.’

‘Seeing her again?’ asks Naomi.

I’m starting to find her questions and designer dreadlocks annoying, dangling down the side of her face like ivy twine.

‘No. Don’t know. Probably not. Maybe. Don’t really care,’ I say. Muscles are tightening in my back.

‘Somebody’s jealous.’ Kim’s smile is so wide I can see mashed fruit roll around the inside of his mouth.

‘Don’t be a prick, Septic.’ Naomi flicks a slice of mango across the table at him.

‘Let’s all just leave it. What I do is up to me, OK?’ Tension is prodding between my shoulder blades. I should have stayed on my balcony with the butterflies.

‘Nothing wrong with an occasional whore,’ says Jussy. ‘Me and Bugs don’t mind admitting it, do we boy?’ He pats Bugs Bunny on his t-shirt.

‘Jesus. Men.’ Naomi’s hand reaches for her beer and she swallows from it as though she’s just escaped the desert. Dreads swing with the sudden movement.

‘Orangs. Look.’ Julie is pointing across the river. Two long-haired orang-utans are on the opposite bank, sitting on a rock outcrop where the swimming men have left their shoes and shirts.

I blink to make sure what I’m seeing is what I’m seeing. It is. They are only about fifteen metres away, but don’t seem nervous of people at all. One of them hunch-walks to the pile of clothes the men have left there and picks up a shoe. Two of the young men in the water laugh as the third realises it’s his shoe. He stands up in the shallow water near the far bank. He shouts and splashes at them. The apes stay where they are. The one with the shoe sniffs it.

‘Idiot people shouldn’t even be on that side. It’s all reserve over there,’ says Julie.

I’m amazed at my first sight of the orang-utans. I haven’t got a camera. Sightseeing and happy memories aren’t my priority in Indonesia. But right now I wish I had one, right now I’m not feeling self-pitying and pathetic, right now I’m feeling awed.

‘How come they’re not scared?’ I ask.

‘They’ve probably not been back in the wild long. Most of the orangs around here have been rescued from somewhere and slowly reintroduced to the jungle,’ Marty answers as he pulls a big Nikon from his bag.

The guy gets out of the river and climbs up onto the rock. The orang-utans slowly move nearer the trees. With each step the man takes forward they take one back. One of them still holds the shoe and starts waving it in the air.

‘Cheeky buggers,’ says Julie, ‘they’re taunting him.’

As if to prove Julie right, the ape with the shoe lollops forward holding it out to the dripping-wet man. As he reaches for it the orang-utan moves back, still holding the shoe. The two in the water are laughing and yelling at their friend, who makes a sudden dash forward. The shoe thief shoots halfway up a tree and looks back over his shoulder, while the other orang-utan ambles to the farthest point on the rock and sits down on his haunches to watch the show. He’s probably as amused as we are.

The man stands at the bottom of the tree, reaching up and waving his hands, begging the orang-utan to give the shoe back. The ape leans down and waves the shoe within a few inches of the man’s reach. He jumps up to snatch it but the orang-utan swings its arm back up and holds the shoe above his head.

‘Fucking great show, man,’ says Kim.

I wish Laura was here. I push the thought back down and shove it in Old Me’s lap.

—You’re not ruining this moment.

He says nothing.

The man is now putting his arms around the tree and trying to pull himself up. The orang-utan climbs a little higher and dangles the shoe again. The man reaches and the orang-utan raises it high again in one long swooping arc, the look on his face non-committal and unreadable, just pouting mouth and calm eyes.

The two in the water are pointing and shouting at their friend to go higher. He looks uncertain but pulls himself up until he is about six feet up the tree and three feet from the thief’s long toes. He looks awkward, clumsy and stupid compared to the primate, who dangles the shoe yet again. The Indonesian reaches up with one hand while holding on with the other.

—I hope the idiot falls. Laura is here.

—Me too. I am actually happy she’s here for this one, sharing this moment with me.

But he doesn’t. His fingers are just touching the end of the shoe and he stretches to get it while the ape leans down to him, almost helpful. He’s grabbing and he’s going to get it, but just as his hand opens to take it the orang-utan flicks his wrist and the shoe flies off through the air in a long slow arc. It plops into the water, floats for a second, then sinks.

We’re laughing, the two in the river are laughing, a group of teenagers who have gathered just behind us are laughing, Laura laughs and strokes my cheek and then leaves, knowing conversation is about to start. The orang-utan on the rock turns and ambles off into the trees. The other turns and climbs up to the branches and then is lost in a rustle of leaves and shaking boughs. Gone without so much as a titter or a bow.

The man climbs-slides down the tree, scraping his chest as he goes, and says something rude and angry-sounding to his friends, picks up the remaining clothes and shoe and clambers off along the rocks.

‘Beats the shit out of TV,’ says Kim, who realises he hasn’t smoked for a few minutes and puts a cigarette in his mouth.

‘I never knew we could get so close to them.’

‘Hey, man, you can take a trip up to the feeding platform in the jungle and get even closer. They’re so tame here,’ says Jussy.

‘Feeding platform?’ I ask.

‘God, you really know nothing about this place,’ says Naomi. ‘Most of the orang-utans around here aren’t completely wild, they still need looking after until they find their feet. The reserve guys take them food everyday in case they can’t find any.’ The condescension in her voice grates.

‘I’d like to see that.’

‘Yeah, but not today, Newbie. It’s beer o’clock and then I want a swim,’ says Kim.

There’s a general agreement with the plan, so three minutes later the table is decorated with Bintangs. The group of teenagers approaches us. They push a pretty but podgy-faced girl in a hijab forward.

‘Excuse me please. Can we make a photo with you?’ she asks.

‘Here we go,’ says Julie, ‘celebrity time.’

‘Of course you can,’ says Jussy, smiling at the girl.

The group gather around us at the table and we all smile at each of their cameras, then they thank us and go.

‘What was that all about?’ I ask.

‘Always happens,’ answers Naomi. ‘They can show their friends and family that they met the lesser-spotted white person. Probably frame the photos and put them on the wall like we’re presidents or something.’

‘You’re joking,’ I say.

‘Nope. It gets a bit tedious after two months. Get it enough in Medan without having it ruin my weekend.’ Naomi puts her sunglasses back over her eyes.

‘I think it’s nice. It’s adding to my weekend rather than ruining it.’ I watch the group walk away. They’re giggling and waving goodbye to us.

‘Me too,’ says Kim.

Naomi snorts.

There is a silence while we sip our beers and watch the river carry another group of inner-tubers bouncing past.

‘Scientists spend millions trying to prove apes are intelligent. So far it’s cost me a pancake and a beer to see it proved. Scientists are idiots.’ Julie takes a long swig from her bottle and lets out a sigh after. ‘Love it here.’

‘Me too,’ says Kim.

‘Can’t beat it,’ says Marty.

‘I’d rather be up to my nuts in guts,’ says Jussy, ‘but this’ll do for the moment.’

‘Why are you here, anyway?’ Naomi asks me. ‘You here for the sex and disease too?’ There is a definite hint of something bitter in her voice.

‘No. I’m just here because I am.’

‘Jalan jalan, eh, man?’ says Kim holding his bottle up for me to chink mine against.

Chink.

‘Yep. Jalan jalan.’

‘Why you here then, Miss Canada, eh?’ Kim asks. ‘Dirty sex with long-haired jungle boys?’

‘No, you idiot. I’m here because of this.’ She waves her hands at the trees that tower above us on both sides of the river. It seems false and acted.

‘Bollocks,’ I say and smile at what has just popped into my head. ‘You’re here because you think it’s a cool thing to do and you get to act the part of cool hippy chick world citizen with skanky dreads so you can rabbit on for the rest of your life about all the things you saw because back home people probably think you’re boring and up yourself.’

There is a moment’s silence while Naomi fingers her dreads. Marty and Jussy sip their beers and look anywhere but at Naomi. Kim openly smirks and takes a noisy drag on his cigarette while looking from me to her and back to me. Julie twitches and coughs and shifts in her seat.

Naomi adjusts her sunglasses, gets up, picks up her bag and walks back across to the guesthouse without another word.

I wait for guilt to surface from somewhere, but it doesn’t. I’m more surprised at myself for having said it than sorry.

‘Newbie, Newbie. A surprise-a-day.’ Kim offers me a cigarette, which I take and light.

‘Swim, anyone?’ I ask, changing the subject before it ignites discussion.

‘Good idea.’

And swim we do.

I float on my back, watching the sky and branches of unknown trees and wonder if I like New Me. What was that about? Why was I that way with Naomi? Was it me? Was it Laura? Was it me on Laura’s behalf? I should apologise. But why? She is too intense. She’s jealous. My night with Eka has nothing to do with her.

The branches are speeding up in their passing above and then a rock scrapes my buttock. I sit up and see I have floated downstream from where the others are diving and swimming. I swim back to the others in the deeper water and roll onto my back again. They leave me be. I like the noisy deafness the water makes in my ears.

Should I apologise?

—But why? asks Laura.

—Why are you always here?

—Because this is where you wanted me, down in your skinny body, locked away. But you know me; no keeping me quiet.

—I just want to forget you.

—Tough. And to answer your question, no, you shouldn’t apologise.

—You’re jealous.

—Of course I’m not. I’m dead and jealousy is for the living. You’re just scared of annoying me. Oh, and the river is carrying you back to the shallow bit again.

I look around. She’s right as usual. I roll and swim back, lay my head back in the cool water and rotate my arms to try and stay in the same place. I focus on one green branch and try to keep it in my eyeline.

—I’m not interested in her.

—So you thought it was a good way to get rid of her. Piss her off and make her feel like an idiot?

—No. I don’t know. I just wanted to piss someone off and she was an easy target.

—The New You. Heartless and an arse. Well done.

—That’s what I’m after, then silly bitches like you don’t destroy me by looking the wrong fucking way. You only had to get across the road and you couldn’t do that right. All over for you in a millisecond, but I’ve got deal with it for fucking ever.

My hands are moving faster under the water, my chest suddenly feels tight. Rivulets run down both sides of my face.

—Oh.

—I’m sorry.

She doesn’t reply. Suddenly something large and fast bounces off my leg and then my shoulder rolling me over into the water. Water goes up my nose and down my throat. I right myself. I’m coughing and spluttering and through stinging eyes I see five people on inner tubes bounce off down the river away from me, spinning and twisting.

Kim is at my side, treading water and holding my arm until I stop coughing.

‘You OK, Newbie? They could have knocked you out.’

I cough again and wipe my eyes.

‘I’m fine. I better go apologise to Naomi.’

‘Oh man. Don’t wimp out. You said the truth.’

‘Maybe. But I shouldn’t have said it.’ I swim across to the bank and clamber up to the table to get my clothes. Old Me is in control for the moment. The wimp never says a bad word to anyone. But as I pull my T-shirt over my head Naomi comes over, dressed in trousers and shirt and holding a bag. She ignores me and yells down at the others.

‘I’m getting a bus back today. Bye.’ She turns and heads back to the path which leads through the shacks and down river. She doesn’t even look at me.

‘Naomi, wait.’

She holds a closed fist up in the air and flicks the middle finger without even turning, then disappears out of sight behind a stall.

‘And the same to you,’ I mutter. ‘Silly bitch.’

New Me takes the T-shirt back off and picks up a cigarette from the table. He sits down, swigs beer and lights up.

That’s the last time I attempt to apologise.

‘Eh mate, can I sit here?’ A strong Liverpudlian accent belonging to a man of about twenty with sunburnt, tattooed arms and badly shaved head cuts the air like a low-flying jet. He sits down before I answer.

‘Eh mate, have you ever fuckin’ noticed how these Indonesians are always in yer fuckin’ face?’ His face is about six inches from mine.

‘No. I haven’t.’ I look to the river hoping Kim or one of the others will come and rescue me.

‘Always in yer fuckin’ face.’ His voice trails off and I make no attempt to talk to him.

‘You’re not a doctor, are ya?’

I look at him. Old Me wants to get up and run from this nutter and New Me wants to whack him. They both sit and wait undecided.

‘Only I got these spots all over me dick. I slept with some bitch in Bangkok and come down here two days ago and these spots have come up all over me dick. Dirty bitch.’

‘No. I’m not a doctor.’

‘What about yer friends in the river? Any a’ them doctors?’

‘No.’ I look up the river and at the trees and question if I really just saw the orang-utans and if now this nightmare from England is really sitting here.

‘You couldn’t take a look, could ya?’

And his hands go in the front of his shorts and fumble about and I stub out my cigarette and say, ‘Sorry, no,’ and get back in the river as quickly as Old Me will carry me while New Me shouts in my head, ‘Deck the freak.’

I dive in under the water and come up next to Julie, who is pushing a breast back into her too-small bikini top.

‘Got rid of that boring Naomi for us then. Well done. Thank god she doesn’t work at our school. She’d do my head in.’

‘Yep. She’s gone. But now there’s a Scouser up there with spots on his dick and he wants to show me.’

‘You’re joking. Urgh.’ She looks over my shoulder. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’ Her lip twitches.

‘Nope.’

‘Well he’s showing all of us now.’

I turn and see the Liverpudlian, stark naked, clambering down the bank into the river. He’s stumbling over the shallow rocks, smiling like he knows us. He waves.

‘Everybody out,’ shouts Julie.

Kim, Marty and Jussy pause from their diving competition and look at her.

‘Out. Now,’ she shouts again, and it’s done with such authority no one hesitates. We all swim-wade-splash past the naked Liverpudlian, who’s just entered the water. He looks at us, mouth open, as we go. I can’t help but glance down at his penis and see the spots. He’s not a well man. I pull myself up and out of the water, grab my clothes as the others grab theirs, and find it very hard not to run as we go across to pay at the restaurant. I notice the Indonesians standing nearby are looking at the Liverpudlian, wide-eyed and tight-mouthed.

One of them shouts, ‘Eh man, don’t be naked. There are Muslim here.’

I feel embarrassed by my skin colour and pull my T-shirt on. I tell the others I’m going back to my room. I’ve had enough of company. I’m tired of conversation and questions and idiot bules. I’m already thinking of the quiet of my balcony and little valley and want to be sitting there, listening to the water flow.

I hurry up the path to my room, shut the door behind me and go straight to the balcony. I stop still as soon as I’ve opened the door. Sitting on the wooden top rail of the balcony, just two feet in front of me, are three monkeys. They are dark grey and white with long tails that hang under them and curl up at the ends. They have little black sprouts of hair on their heads with white on either side and black moustaches that are curled up like an eccentric Victorian gentleman’s. I expect them to jump off at the sight of me, but they just sit there, heads moving from side to side while they look at me and then peer behind into my room. I pull the door gently shut behind. I stay very still, hoping they won’t leave. Somewhere in my head lies a concern about bites and scratches and strange jungle diseases. But this moment is worth a scratch, a bite, death. It’s a moment just for me.

We stay there. I am perfectly still while they check me out, eyes flittering up and down my face and body. They take turns to walk up and down the length of the railing, one paw crossing the other as though on a tightrope. I hold out my hand to one of them, it bares its teeth at me and screeches, and then the three of them jump off, two into the foliage and one onto a nearby branch. They disappear up the slope and into the trees. Standing there, looking after them, I’m vaguely aware of a grin across my face. I sit down on a wobbly bamboo chair and wait, watching the jungle, hoping they’ll return. I stay there watching my valley, scratching at mosquitoes, thinking of nothing but the beauty that surrounds me and making the most of the absence of others. Of all others.

‘To zoo or not to zoo, that is the question.’

‘Not to zoo.’ Laura stands between me and her mother, Jane, while we watch the huge silverback gorilla just three feet from us. The gorilla passes us an occasional condescending glance from his pile of straw in the corner of the enclosure.

‘But if we didn’t zoo them they’d be more endangered than they already are,’ I say as a toddler-sized gorilla chases another down a slide in the middle.

‘But if we looked after them and didn’t take away their habitat we wouldn’t have to zoo them.’

‘My daughter, the eternal dreamer and believer that people can be good.’ Her mum ruffles Laura’s hair.

‘No, I know the human race is an arse, but I just wish it’d change. Just like you do, eh, big boy.’ She blows the gorilla a kiss and starts walking off. ‘This place depresses me.’

Her mum links her arm through mine and we start walking while Laura speeds on ahead. Somewhere a monkey howls and a blackbird chirps.

‘If she doesn’t like zoos, why did she suggest we come?’ I ask.

‘Because she loves getting herself worked up. Haven’t you noticed that about her yet?’ She looks at me and smiles. ‘I think you’ve noticed virtually everything about her, haven’t you?’

I don’t answer but feel my face go warm.

‘How long have you two been together now?’

‘Two months.’

‘A good two months?’

‘The best.’

‘She’s mad about you.’

My stomach does a spin. It’s good to hear it from someone else. It means they’ve talked about me. Laura has told her mum how she feels about me.

‘She’ll do your head in, though. You know that, don’t you. She’s done mine in since she learnt to talk. Questioning everything, but understanding everything at the same time.’

She holds me back so we don’t catch up with her daughter, who has paused by the capybaras. Laura leans on the railing, chin resting thoughtfully in hands and peachy rear in short white dress stuck out behind her.

‘I lie awake some nights trying to work out what she means by what she says just before she falls asleep. I’m sure she does it deliberately to mess with my mind.’

‘She does.’ Jane laughs and surprises me by putting her head against my shoulder. ‘But don’t ever try to zoo her.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘She’d bite your arm off. You can trust my Minnie Mouse. When she puts her heart into something, it’s there for good. Never doubt her and never stop her being her.’ She tugs on my arm. ‘Got it?’

‘Got it.’

‘Good. Because she will drive you nuts and there’ll be times you want to tell her no, but don’t even bother trying, because it’ll hurt.’

Laura is skipping back towards us, kicking her legs behind her and hair swinging around her face.

‘Mummy, me want ithe cweam. Pwease can me have ithe cweam?’ She stops in front of us and pants like a dog, tongue hanging out. If her mum wasn’t here I’d grab it with my mouth.

‘Of course you can, little girl. And would little boy like one too?’

‘Yes, pwease,’ I say.

Jane links her other arm through Laura’s and we swing legs wide and ‘follow the yellow brick road’ to the nearest ice-cream kiosk, before getting happy-sad at seeing more caged, bored animals who must be wondering what the hell life is all about.