After work on Friday, I wandered through town as the evening eased its way toward night. I tried to shake off another suffocating day in the dusty, dimly lit office, surrounded by my coworkers’ hostility and silence. I felt sure that large amounts of goods and revenues were being diverted, based on missing and questionable records, ledger numbers that didn’t add up. Time and again, the accountant and warehouse manager refused to provide the information I requested. “No, no,” they repeated. “The boss says it’s not necessary. Don’t worry. Not a problem.”
Late in the afternoon, I had followed Kham out of the building. “I need to speak to you in private,” I said. “I’m concerned about the accounts. There are too many irregularities.”
A strange expression crossed his face, and a small smile played at the edges of his overgenerous mouth. “Later,” he’d said. “I’m meeting a client right now.”
Hopefully he would be receptive to what I had to tell him, and not feel I was crossing a line by reporting on his brother-in-law and the other employees.
I strolled down the main street as a welcome breeze stirred the leaves and ruffled my skirt. All I could think about was Marguerite’s suggestion that I quit this miserable job and go home with her. Back to Bounmy.
Instinctively, my path took me to the tranquil bench at Wat Xieng Thong. I pulled out Bounmy’s letter and unfolded the single page. I’d read it over and over the night before and half a dozen times at work.
September 28, 1931
Chère Geneviève,
I hope your time in Luang Prabang will prove fruitful. I look for a letter from you every day, anxious to hear how your visit with your family passes. May this connection bring you peace.
Are you enjoying the temples? I picture you visiting with my guide in hand, as if we are sharing the time together in a small way. If only I could show you in person. One day.
I have little to report on this end, except how much I miss you. You have only been gone five days, but it feels like an eternity. I spend hours at work distracted by thoughts of your beautiful face and sweet voice. Prince Phetsarath must think a wandering spirit has kidnapped his assistant’s soul.
Evenings I stroll along the river and stop in places where we have spent time, dreaming of you beside me. I ache to hold you in my arms, to cover you with kisses. My body burns for yours.
Please trust in me and hurry back. My heart beats only for you, and each day apart is agony.
I love you a thousand times,
Bounmy
His words sent joy catapulting through my body, his love wrapping around me to protect me from all the losses and pain of my past.
As dusk neared, I left the temple to walk home along the Mekong River, imagining Bounmy strolling by the riverbank in Vientiane. The gentle view and sounds of boats bobbing in the water, waves lapping against the muddy banks, were a balm for the longing in my heart. Forested hills across the wide expanse of water slowly turned from dark green to shades of purple and indigo as the sun disappeared behind the trees. Bounmy’s words of love floated through my head. Farther down shore, several groups of men sat on stools around small tables drinking and eating, their voices and laughter echoing through the darkness.
My empty stomach rumbled, anticipating the meal that awaited me. Aunt Chanida had sent a note on Wednesday, inviting me to visit the family again on Sunday, saying a cart would come to fetch me at ten in the morning. I looked forward to seeing her and discussing my parents’ letters, hoping she could answer my questions and add more to my parents’ story.
I passed a boisterous group, and a familiar voice called out my name. Squinting into the dim light, I recognized Kham’s squat shape as he navigated his way toward me, stumbling over a tree root, then laughing as if it were a trick he’d performed to entertain me.
“What are you doing out?” he asked. He smelled of liquor and cigarettes.
“I visited Wat Xieng Thong. I’m on my way to the house.” I stepped back, uncomfortable with his overly familiar tone.
He grabbed my arm. “You wanted to talk to me. Let’s go to the office.”
“Now?” I asked, my voice filled with alarm. The last thing I wanted was to be with this unpleasant man after he’d been drinking. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
“It won’t take long. Show me these problem accounts.” He began weaving his way down the road, dragging me by the arm.
An uneasy feeling gripped me, like heavy stones settling on my chest. I tried to free my arm, but Kham only tightened his grasp. We passed a string of small stores lit with oil lamps. Shopkeepers and their families could be seen eating dinner in the back rooms. I thought of calling out for help but foolishly kept quiet.
Kham turned to me with a strange smile. “Do you like Luang Prabang?” The alcohol had made his Lao accent even more pronounced, and I strained to understand his French.
“It’s beautiful. Bounmy wrote me a guide for the temples.”
“Ah, my cousin, the great patron of the temples.” His voice turned angry and bitter. “While he went off to Paris for his fine education, I had to care for my dying father and run our family business. He was always the lucky one.”
“I met my mother’s family last Sunday,” I said, wanting to change the subject and let him know of my family’s presence. “They live here in Luang Prabang. I believe you are acquainted with my uncle, Khamphet Thongsavat.”
Kham appeared startled by the news. “Of course. They must have been surprised to discover their lost relative with a touch of French blood. But all families have their secrets.”
I stiffened at the insult and tried again unsuccessfully to free my arm from him.
We reached the deserted office, and Kham unlocked the door and lit a lamp, which cast an eerie shadow across the crowded space. I retrieved the file containing the questionable invoices and inventory sheets, which I’d been collecting, hoping to get our meeting over with quickly. Kham motioned for me to follow him to his desk, where he collapsed heavily into his chair.
“What’s so important?” His eyelids drooped as if he might nod off at any moment.
I reached across the desk and placed the open file before him, leafing through several pages, which I’d underlined with question marks. His glassy eyes focused on the front of my blouse, and my hand flew up involuntarily, pulling the sides tighter together. “These figures don’t add up,” I said. “There are large amounts of goods and money disappearing. I wanted to alert you.”
His head lolled back, then he burst out laughing. “You must think you’re very smart,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I already know this. My brother-in-law likes to augment his income.”
“You’re not concerned?” I stepped back, wondering if the liquor had muddled his brain.
He shrugged. “They’re family.”
His indifference surprised me. Yet why should I care? It was his money, his family. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
He struggled to stand up, an ugly leering smile spreading across his thick lips. “You just wanted to get me alone.” He reached across and grabbed at my arm, pulling me around the desk, banging my hip on the corner in the process. “Let’s be better friends.”
I struggled, trying to break free. “You’re hurting me.” Fear coiled down my middle, taking the air from my lungs.
He threw his arms around me. “Be nice to your boss.”
The more I fought, the tighter he held me. “I’ll tell Bounmy,” I cried.
“He won’t mind sharing.” Kham’s foul breath turned my stomach upside down until I thought I’d be sick. “I hired you as a favor to him. He’s paying your salary—a way to buy your favors. And I only brought you to Luang Prabang because he asked me to. All the things I’ve done for him because of you, and does he appreciate it? Does he do anything for me in return? Never.”
“He loves me.” My limbs were nearly numb, and my ears rang as if damaged by a loud noise.
“It’s a certain kind of love, mademoiselle. Did he mention his wedding in December when his bride returns home from school in Saigon? I guess not.” Kham rubbed his lower body against mine, groaning. Panic consumed me. I remembered the suffocating fear I’d felt when Director Bernard would lock me in the storage closet overnight. I had to get away.
It happened so quickly. I fought with all my strength, to no avail. He shoved a hand down the front of my blouse, grabbing at my breasts. I began to scream over and over, “Stop! Help!” I garnered all my strength and kicked his shin, but I couldn’t break free.
Kham slapped me hard across the face, knocking my head back. “Shut up.” He threw me onto the desk, his weight pushing me down. Notebooks and pens dug into my back. With one hand over my mouth, he lifted my skirt and ripped open my bloomers. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my mind to be somewhere else besides this unimaginable nightmare. There was terrible pain as Kham forced himself inside me, pounding against me over and over. Finally he let out a loud moan and collapsed in a heap on top of me. After a moment, he stood and pulled up his trousers.
“Don’t say a word to anyone, especially Bounmy, or I’ll tell everyone what a little whore you are.” He slapped me hard across the face again, then strode out of the building, slamming the door behind him.
I tried to stand up, but my legs couldn’t support my weight, and I collapsed on the ground. My torn bloomers hung off my legs, the cotton stained with blood and semen. It felt as if he had ripped my insides apart. Unknown minutes passed before my body began convulsing with sobs. Then it struck me that Kham might come back, and I needed to escape. Standing up, I removed the ruined bloomers and wiped myself off. The smell of his body nauseated me, and a stream of bile rose up my throat, splashing onto the desktop. My horror turned to anger. I stuck the bloomers in the top desk drawer with a note: You will pay for this.
I grabbed my purse and staggered out into the dark of night, unaware of anything around me. My only thought was to reach Marguerite. I ran as fast as I could manage.