The Beach

∨ The Beach ∧

97

Something Happening Here

By the time I’d retaken my seat, the Yugoslavian girls had inspired some of the others. Sal and Bugs started dancing too, then Unhygienix and Ella, then Jesse and Cassie.

I may have had a few screws loose, but I was able to recognize this as a nice moment. Watching the four couples revolving around each other reminded me of the way things used to be on the beach. Even Sal seemed at peace, all her plans and manipulations pushed aside for the time being, aware of nothing more than straightforward affection for her lover. In fact, Sal looked like a completely different person. None of her confidence was apparent in her dancing. Her steps were tentative and slow, and she clung to Bugs with both arms, head pressed flat against his chest.

‘You do not recognize her,’ Gregorio said to me, having followed the direction of my gaze. While I’d been killing Christo, he’d taken my place so he could chat to Keaty. ‘You have never seen her like this.’

‘No…I haven’t.’

‘You know why?’

‘No.’

‘Because tonight it is Tet, and Sal will only smoke or drink on Tet. The rest of the year, her mind is always clear, all hours in the day. We get high, but she keeps her mind clear for us.’

‘She cares very much about the beach.’

‘Very much,’ Greg echoed. ‘Of course.’ He smiled and stood up. ‘I will get us more coconut beer. You would like some?’

Both Keaty and I said no.

‘Just for me then?’

‘Just for you.’

He ambled off towards the fishing buckets, which held the last of Jean’s moonshine.

♦

Ten o’clock. The dancing had stopped. Moshe was standing where the dancers had been, holding a candle up in one hand, the other hand touching the side of his face. I didn’t know if anyone else was taking an interest in him, but I was. ‘This flame,’ he said, as hot wax ran on to his wrist and down the length of his arm, forming a slim stalactite on his elbow. ‘Look.’

‘Look,’ said Étienne, gesturing to Cassie. She was also studying the candle-flames, crouched over with an expression of rapt pleasure. Jesse was next to her, muttering something in her ear that made her jaw drop. Behind them, Jean sat with his back to one of the bamboo poles, covering his eyes with his fingers, removing them, and blinking like a baby kitten.

’

‘Night John-Boy,’ called one of the Aussie carpenters.

Six or seven people provided names, all at once. A ripple of laughter spread beneath the marquee.’

‘Night Sal,’ Ella called, above the competing voices. ‘Night Sal, ‘night Sal, ‘night Sal.’

Soon Ella’s cue became a soft chant that lasted as long as the cigarette I was smoking. Then Sal replied, ‘Thank you, children,’ and the ripple of laughter spread again.

A few minutes later, the carpenter who had called out ‘John-Boy’ said, ‘Is anyone else seeing shit?’ When no one answered he added, ‘I’m seeing all kinds of shit over here.’

‘Potchentong,’ sang Jean, like a tolling bell.

Moshe dropped the candle.

‘Seriously, guys, I’m seeing all kinds of shit.’

‘Potchentong.’

‘Did you put mushrooms in the potchentong?’

‘This flame,’ said Moshe. ‘This flame burned me.’ He began pulling the line of wax from his arm.

‘Moshe’s losing his fucking skin…’

‘…I am losing my skin?’

‘Losing his skin!’

‘Potchen-fucking-tong…’

♦

I leant over to Keaty. ‘This can’t be just the dope,’ I whispered. ‘Even eating it, dope wouldn’t do this, would it?’

He wiped beads of sweat off the back of his neck. ‘They’re all crazy. It’s worse being straight. It’s doing my fucking head in just watching them.’

‘Yes,’ said Étienne. ‘Really, I do not like this. When can we go?’

I checked my watch for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. To the extent that I’d thought it out, I’d imagined leaving at around two or three a.m., when there’d be a bit of light creeping in to the sky. But Étienne was right. I didn’t like the way things were either, and at a pinch, we could probably set off while it was still dark.

‘Give it an hour,’ I said. ‘I think we might be able to leave in an hour.’