always seemed to know more than he immediately let on.
“Are they aware that you are running around the world?”
“They disapprove, if that’s what you mean.”
“I would disapprove too if I were them.”
Robert decided to find this amusing.
“It’s only for a short while. I wanted to see the world a bit.”
“Where are you living, by the way?”
“I found a place called Colonial Mansions. It’s just around the corner.”
“I know it well. The American embassy sets up many of its employees there. It’s not terribly cheap, is it?”
Robert shrugged.
“It’s all right. It’s cheaper than East Grinstead.”
“Maybe you should come around for dinner at our house and meet everyone. Would you do that?”
“Certainly.”
“Not tonight, Sophal is out doing music. What about tomorrow then?”
“All right.”
Robert’s voice wavered and he sensed some tensions coming to him from afar, like something clammy and malevolent carried over a body of still water.
“I’ll have my wife ask the cook to make something Khmer. Do you like Khmer food?”
“Of course.”
“Some barangs won’t eat it. They survive on steaks and milkshakes.”
Robert shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. It’s so delicious.”
“I’m glad you think so. You seem like you’ve been here a long time.”
“A few weeks. But it feels like a few days.”
“A few weeks already. You don’t sound too sure.”
“Maybe I’ve lost track of time.”
Robert smiled but the doctor did not return the gesture.
He said, instead, “That’s what happens when you come here when you’re young and you’re not Khmer. It makes the time fly by. Everyone says so and I believe it.”
—
From the shadowed corners of the room the boys in the bow ties watched them with a wary aloofness that found its only expression in the permanently upturned corners of their mouths. There was a fixity about them, a muted beauty which made them, strangely, unapproachable. They stood there watching the Englishman in his odd clothes listening to the old Khmer doctor, whom they knew for his kindness and dottiness, and they reminded Robert of the children he taught in Elmer and who sometimes walked home with him across the railway bridge to his cottage at the edge of the woods. Their eyes moved as slowly as marbles rolling on a gradient which the eye could not detect and they spoke reluctantly only when they were spoken to, but there was thought and a subtle malice in their stoniness and gravity. It was a form of respect that does not shrink from quietly judging. The children were always curious about him and he was sure that they felt sorry for him: he was a forlorn figure to them. They could smell his loneliness and mediocrity, and in a perverse way it drew them to him. The doctor, for his part, could sense the same thing but it didn’t draw him to Robert. It made him aware that there was an opportunity here.
“Maybe you’ll stay a while, now that you are here,” he said affably. Their plates were covered with mustard-seeded blood. “Do you not have a girlfriend back home—or something like that?”
“Not really, no.”
“That’s a shame. Maybe you are living in the wrong place. It’s always wise to live in the right place.”
“I guess it is at that.”
“What does your father say?”
“My father?”
“What does he say about you not having a girlfriend?”
“He doesn’t say anything about it.”
“Does he not, indeed? Does he not?”
“Not at all.”
“That is rather strange. Maybe he is under the impression—”
“I’m an obscenity?”
The doctor roared with laughter and raised his fork.
Obscenity? Robert thought wildly. What did his father think he was? The doctor’s insinuation was strange, but it was a provocation to sound him out about his sexuality. It was better to ignore it.
“Well, never mind, Robert. You are in our land now. You don’t have to pretend to be anything you are
“Are they aware that you are running around the world?”
“They disapprove, if that’s what you mean.”
“I would disapprove too if I were them.”
Robert decided to find this amusing.
“It’s only for a short while. I wanted to see the world a bit.”
“Where are you living, by the way?”
“I found a place called Colonial Mansions. It’s just around the corner.”
“I know it well. The American embassy sets up many of its employees there. It’s not terribly cheap, is it?”
Robert shrugged.
“It’s all right. It’s cheaper than East Grinstead.”
“Maybe you should come around for dinner at our house and meet everyone. Would you do that?”
“Certainly.”
“Not tonight, Sophal is out doing music. What about tomorrow then?”
“All right.”
Robert’s voice wavered and he sensed some tensions coming to him from afar, like something clammy and malevolent carried over a body of still water.
“I’ll have my wife ask the cook to make something Khmer. Do you like Khmer food?”
“Of course.”
“Some barangs won’t eat it. They survive on steaks and milkshakes.”
Robert shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. It’s so delicious.”
“I’m glad you think so. You seem like you’ve been here a long time.”
“A few weeks. But it feels like a few days.”
“A few weeks already. You don’t sound too sure.”
“Maybe I’ve lost track of time.”
Robert smiled but the doctor did not return the gesture.
He said, instead, “That’s what happens when you come here when you’re young and you’re not Khmer. It makes the time fly by. Everyone says so and I believe it.”
—
From the shadowed corners of the room the boys in the bow ties watched them with a wary aloofness that found its only expression in the permanently upturned corners of their mouths. There was a fixity about them, a muted beauty which made them, strangely, unapproachable. They stood there watching the Englishman in his odd clothes listening to the old Khmer doctor, whom they knew for his kindness and dottiness, and they reminded Robert of the children he taught in Elmer and who sometimes walked home with him across the railway bridge to his cottage at the edge of the woods. Their eyes moved as slowly as marbles rolling on a gradient which the eye could not detect and they spoke reluctantly only when they were spoken to, but there was thought and a subtle malice in their stoniness and gravity. It was a form of respect that does not shrink from quietly judging. The children were always curious about him and he was sure that they felt sorry for him: he was a forlorn figure to them. They could smell his loneliness and mediocrity, and in a perverse way it drew them to him. The doctor, for his part, could sense the same thing but it didn’t draw him to Robert. It made him aware that there was an opportunity here.
“Maybe you’ll stay a while, now that you are here,” he said affably. Their plates were covered with mustard-seeded blood. “Do you not have a girlfriend back home—or something like that?”
“Not really, no.”
“That’s a shame. Maybe you are living in the wrong place. It’s always wise to live in the right place.”
“I guess it is at that.”
“What does your father say?”
“My father?”
“What does he say about you not having a girlfriend?”
“He doesn’t say anything about it.”
“Does he not, indeed? Does he not?”
“Not at all.”
“That is rather strange. Maybe he is under the impression—”
“I’m an obscenity?”
The doctor roared with laughter and raised his fork.
Obscenity? Robert thought wildly. What did his father think he was? The doctor’s insinuation was strange, but it was a provocation to sound him out about his sexuality. It was better to ignore it.
“Well, never mind, Robert. You are in our land now. You don’t have to pretend to be anything you are
Similar Books
