Two days before Christmas, I headed for Wong’s Mercantile to purchase my last gifts: a leather briefcase for Antoine and a silk embroidered jewelry pouch for Catherine, which would be perfect for her trip to Luang Prabang. I’d been stewing over spending so much, but I couldn’t resist. What better way to use my secret cache of money from Kham than on the people I loved?
It was a bright sunny day, and the town had a festive air. Carriages, horses, and bicycles wove their way in and among a stream of pedestrians on Rue Maréchal Joffre. I glanced across the street and there was Bounmy, walking in the same direction as me. My whole body quaked, and I could barely breathe. It was remarkable our paths had not crossed before in this small town. I ducked behind a stand selling dried mango and coconut, peeking around the startled vendor as I watched him. He trudged along as if in a trance, his expression haunted, never lifting his gaze from the ground. His shoulders were stooped, and he appeared thinner than before. Or perhaps I was only imagining these things, reflecting my own pain.
I took a few steps forward, trying to keep pace with him, and stumbled over a palm frond that had fallen from above. I longed to call out, to run to him and throw my arms about his neck, to feel his body pressed against mine. A flush of desire ran through me. There would be nothing sweeter than feeling his fingers caress my cheek, to gaze into his eyes. I could hardly bear to watch him turn down Avenue Lang Xang, slowly disappearing from sight. How was he coping? Did he feel as desolate as I did? It struck me that he should be in Luang Prabang getting married. Why was he still here? Then he was gone. I forced myself to walk the other way. He was no longer part of my life, and I couldn’t allow myself to fall down this well of misery.
I spent a joyous Christmas Day with the people I loved. Marguerite and Charles joined us mid-afternoon to exchange gifts and feast on the wonderful treats that Mali and Catherine had been preparing all week. Carols played on the Victrola, and we never stopped laughing. I pushed thoughts of Bounmy aside. What more could I ask for when I had Antoine and my dear friends who cared for me?
After dinner we sat in the salon in a stupor, stuffed with roast duck, bûche de Noël, and champagne.
“What about a game of belote?” Julian suggested. “Or charades?” No one moved.
“I’m too tired,” Catherine groaned.
Marguerite came to my side. “Vivi, I want to talk to you in the library for a moment.” I followed her out of the room, puzzled.
Once she’d closed the door, she turned to me, her expression oddly worried. “I have something to tell you, or rather a message to deliver. My friend Annabelle came to see me yesterday. She and her husband are good friends with Prince Phetsarath, who told her some news she thought you should hear.” She paused a moment, as if still uncertain about relaying the information. “It seems Bounmy has told his family he won’t marry the girl they arranged for him and that he wants to be with you.”
I stared at Marguerite, dazed. “I… I don’t understand.”
“His wedding was cancelled. Needless to say, his family and the king are furious. They blame Prince Souvanna for encouraging Bounmy to defy the royal court the same way he did. A new generation is rebelling against their ancient traditions, and it’s causing quite a ruckus.”
“What will happen to Bounmy?”
“They’ll find a way to punish him, I’m sure. Maybe cut off his allowance, but it seems unlikely they’ll banish him from court. His father is too high placed.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “He did it for you. That has to please you.”
“It doesn’t change anything between us. His family will never accept me.”
“Perhaps. Yet Prince Souvanna and Mademoiselle Allard have announced plans to marry next year, in spite of the consequences for Prince Souvanna at the royal court.”
It was too much to take in. What did it all mean?
“One more thing. I told you I invited Bounmy to the wedding, given his position in the royal family. I received his response today saying he is unable to attend, but he sent a beautiful silver bowl. I didn’t want you to worry about him showing up at the reception.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or disappointed.
It took me several days to sort through my reaction. I had no doubt that if I contacted Bounmy, he would come to me in an instant, yet where would that leave us? I confided in Antoine, but he seemed uncomfortable offering advice, saying he had no experience in matters of the heart. He only wanted me to be happy. I already knew what Julian’s reaction would be, and I didn’t feel up to hearing it. Everyone else was busy with last-moment preparations for Marguerite’s wedding, and I couldn’t disturb them. And so I settled in the back garden with pen and paper to write a letter, needing to organize my thoughts and clear my head.
Cher Bounmy,
Marguerite informed me of your canceled wedding. My thoughts and emotions are a hopeless tangle. I pray you took this momentous decision for yourself and not for me. After your time in Paris, you must have felt trapped by an arranged marriage to someone you do not know, a tradition of the royal court that is no longer appropriate in these modern times. I encourage you to stand strong against the pressure of your family to fulfill their wishes rather than allow you to follow your heart.
First, know that I still love you as before, despite the history of our affair, your deceit, and the pain I suffered. Being only eighteen—as everyone constantly reminds me—my inexperience led to unwise decisions. I blame myself, as much as you, for what unfolded. You were my first love and, in the blush of our astonishing happiness, I ignored the warnings of others. Instead of asking questions to understand your intentions and what my role in your life might be, I kept quiet. Allowing myself to get pregnant was unpardonable, as was disregarding the harm to my reputation in the French community and with my family in Luang Prabang. The lessons learned have helped me mature. In the future I must focus on taking care of myself and fulfilling my dreams. I won’t let anyone else lead me astray.
My brother Antoine is now living here with me, a true blessing. We are alike in many ways, as you might expect of twins, and very compatible. I feel so fortunate to have found him. Next year we will go to France to university, and nothing will deter me from this.
I do not trust myself to see you at present, fearing it would be inevitable that we fall back into our previous relationship as lovers. How could I be near you without succumbing to the temptation? At this point, your family would never accept me, and I must honor the demand of my mother’s family to break off contact with you. There remain too many barriers as yet to be resolved.
Perhaps one day the king and your father will allow you to choose the person you love. Perhaps that person will be me. In the meantime, try to be happy and know I think of you constantly.
With all my love,
Geneviève
I folded the letter and held it against my heart. Perhaps I would mail it to him one day—next week, next month, next year. Not now. My emotions were too raw and unsettled.