Water Lily (13 page)

Ralph was excited by the violence, so unexpected. The thrill prickled down his spine. He wanted to see—not pain or blood—but
grinding force and a blood-red wash of color be-hind his eyelids when he blinked.

He watched as the woman lurched toward the fighting bodies and shouted at them. She pulled at the shoulders of the shorter
one. Ralph stepped back. Brave, he thought, for such a slight girl. The man did not turn on her but calmed for a second, said
something gently and politely. It looked to Ralph as if he were saying, “It’s all right. Just give us a minute to sort this
out. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.” The tall man opened his mouth and shrieked in anger, presumably demanding an end
to the fight, but the other kicked his head, again and again, as if driving a tent peg into the ground. The woman’s body tensed
with each strike.

She looked around for help, noticed Ralph in the shadows, lurking. He stepped forward, sheepishly. He couldn’t very well stand
there doing nothing.

“Looks nasty,” he shouted, hoping she couldn’t speak much English.

“Help me.”

She seemed frightened. She needed him, and he wanted to put an arm around her. A fight was something beautiful in itself,
but with a scared woman upset at the sidelines, it was more gorgeous still.

“Don’t you worry,” he said, rolling up his sleeves slowly, having no intention of involving himself. He wasn’t very well,
after all. He hadn’t found his sea legs yet. These men would knock him to pieces. His glasses might fall off, might get broken.

But as they turned toward the fight, the two men picked themselves up and disappeared through the door. It shut gently and
firmly behind them.

It was quiet as if they were never there. Just the sounds of the engine and the sea.

“I’m a bit peaky,” he said. “Or I would have sorted them out. They seem to have made up, though. Are you very afraid? Did
that frighten you?”

She returned to the side and watched the water, rocking gently with her arms wrapped around herself.

“It’s chilly,” he said, walking over. His voice wobbled in the wind and disappeared. He wasn’t sure that she had heard. He
was not quite sure he had heard it himself. Ralph looked down, where her gaze was fixed, on the sea’s swell. The lights on
the side of the ferry caught the swirls of water and made him woozy again. When he looked further out at the black water,
waves of terror washed over him. He kept his sight close to the boat and then he could look. He tried to see the water through
her eyes, see what exactly she was watching. Little wedding dresses lighting up on a dance floor, one by one, then slipping
back into the dark. She glanced at him but didn’t speak. There was probably nothing to say in response to his inane remark.
Of course it was chilly. He wondered how much English she knew. It was better that she wasn’t fluent but she would need a
little bit. Apple hadn’t been able to say much at first—she’d relied on the interpreter when they met—but when she got to
England she found ways of ex-pressing herself, mostly by scowling.

He tried again.

“Would you like my jacket?”

She was small enough to look sweet with a man’s jacket swamping her shoulders. It wasn’t the same as a woman actually wearing
men’s clothes, which was, to Ralph, unattractive, no better or more natural than a man wearing women’s clothes.

“No, thank you.”

She shivered. She faltered as she spoke but Ralph caught a hint of American in her accent and was disappointed. She might
be very Westernized. He moved a little closer. His queasiness faded as air filled his lungs and he grew more used to the sight
of the sea.

“Where are you from?”

“Japan.”

“I’ve just been in Japan. On business. What with me being a businessman." Of course he had been in Japan. The boat had sailed
from Kobe.

“Tokyo, and places. Where do you live?”

“I live in Japan.”

So she didn’t speak much English. She probably had an American teacher at school but had forgotten everything she learned.
He would teach her.

The girl’s skin was moon-pale. He thought that if he tried to pry her fingers from the railing, they would snap. He wanted
to get her indoors and warm her back to life. But she was looking out at the sky or the sea. He couldn’t tell which. He noticed
that she wasn’t wearing any rings so she couldn’t be married.

“I’m a little worried about you.”

She turned and nodded in his direction but didn’t look at him.

He would give up. He would respect her modesty. He would leave her alone, for the moment, but he would get her name first.

“I’m Ralph. My name’s Ralph and I live in England.”

She took no notice but didn’t seem annoyed. Serene, he thought and said the word again inside his head because he liked it.
He wanted her name.

“You are … ?”

“Nanao.” She said it quickly and firmly, almost before he had finished the question, as if it were information she wanted
him to have. Odd, but he didn’t know why. He was freezing. He headed across the shiny deck for the door to the warmth of the
boat. He would find a table tennis partner, play for an hour or two, and then he’d go to the cafeteria for dinner. But he
would seek her out the next day. Nanao. They would be on the boat together for two more days. At the agency you got about
ten minutes with each woman, if you were lucky.

He shook his head. Compared with Apple she was an angel. She was exactly what he had been looking for and so much more promising
than Li Hua. What was that line about her being a star in the night? If only he could remember it. But he must say something
more.

“Are you traveling alone?”

She looked confused. Perhaps it was too soon to ask. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “I do.”

That was good. He could forget plain Li Hua and rotten Apple for two days. He would concentrate on Nanao. And if he failed
(he wouldn’t), Li Hua would still be there. Life was good. Traveling was good. It was something men did, needed to do, connected
with discovery and marking territory, and genes. Probably his ancestors had traveled, helping to chart the world and build
the empire. Now he was here to represent them. He had made his mark in Thailand and Japan. Now he was off to conquer China.

R
una shuffled irritably along the blue carpet. She shouldn’t have woken up. The brutality of the fight had left her shaky.
Her head ached and she didn’t want to look at the people she passed, couldn’t walk too close to another person. She was afraid
that somehow the violence had infected her and someone might hit her, or that she would lash out and thump some stranger.
She was angry with the two men for hurting each other but she was also worried and couldn’t help but pity them. She saw them
rolling over and over on the deck, blood shining on their hands and faces. She could still hear their cries above the wind
and sea and she wanted to cry.

Runa had only once hit a person and she could remember exactly how it felt, though it was years ago when she was a teenager.
She and Ping had been doing some compensated dating, of a kind. They would arrange to have sex with a man in return for jewelry
or whatever they felt like that day (Ping had a taste for designer purses), but they would avoid the sex by taking the goods
first and running away. If the man chased them, they would scream until he disappeared. But one man didn’t give Ping what
he’d promised. He understood that she wasn’t planning to hang around so he walked out of the love hotel lobby. Ping felt cheated
so she ran after him and Runa went too, to protect her. They followed him to his house and Ping threatened to tell his wife
unless he gave her money. He told them that he wasn’t married and shoved Ping out of the way, cracking her head against the
wall. Ping went crazy. She started screaming and hitting him all over his face and chest. He pushed her again. Runa came behind
him with a brick and hit him over the top of his head, not very hard.

It was his own fault but Runa had felt so sorry for him, standing with his hand on his head looking utterly lost and confused.
She wanted to hit him again and put her arms around him at the same time. She wasn’t keen on older men after that. It was
all too violent and confusing. Apart from Kawasaki, who was a couple of years older, she dated only younger men.

She lay back on her futon and felt warmth creep into her limbs. The room was large and there was space for ten or more people
on the tatami. Runa was glad she had not paid for a proper bed in a cabin. She wanted more people around her tonight. Being
Nanao wasn’t easy. She had thought it would be; she thought it would mean being sensible, being quiet, not doing much, but
now she had to pretend she didn’t speak English. Until she saw the English man, she hadn’t thought about language. Perhaps
it wouldn’t matter—most people on the ferry would speak Japanese, Chinese, or both—but she shouldn’t identify herself as someone
who might be an English teacher. Her head pounded as if it were being kicked. She pressed her fingers into her temples. For
now the school and its teachers didn’t exist. They didn’t exist because she couldn’t see them.

Soon only her fingertips and toes were cold. She should eat or drink. Then she would have to find something to do, other-wise
she would lose her mind. Perhaps with a little company she could stop dreaming and fill her head with something new.

She found herself thinking again of the man who was being beaten up on the deck. His face was the more aggressive of the two.
She’d like to put one finger over his lips to quiet and calm him. In fact, she’d like to see him tonight but she would not
do what Runa always did. She was Nanao. Nanao didn’t go around picking men up when she needed them. Somehow she already had
them. Before she met Hiroshi, she had boyfriends, but each lasted for a long time and they seemed to slide so easily into
her life, as if presented on trolleys. Runa didn’t have boyfriends as such; she had encounters. She didn’t know how Nanao
used to do it, how she got them without having to catch them in the first place.

Runa could only behave the way she felt Nanao would and that meant being responsible and practical. She must first have something
to eat. After that she would find a place to sit and check out the other passengers. Then she must sleep. She could sleep
for the whole journey. She must forget about the man.

She climbed a flight of stairs and felt a burst of excitement.
I’m on a boat, Nanao. I wish you were here with me. Have you heard yet, that I’ve run away?

H
e saw the back of her, sharp-boned and sleek, disappear through the door to the lounge. He couldn’t help following. Her long
skirt swished around her ankles as if it were freshly laundered and ironed, but her hair was slightly ratty, criss-crossing
over itself, from the wind. She moved so lazily, as if to a slow music, but also quite deliberately; she knew where she was
going. As Ralph approached the door, he almost expected not to find her on the other side. She seemed likely to turn invisible
on a whim and reappear behind him, walk through walls, open her mouth and make the noise of the sea. She would entice Ralph
with her beauty and lead him—where?

He paused outside the lounge. Entering a room full of people having fun together was daunting. He didn’t want to go in and
be stared at, or be left out of whatever they were doing. He couldn’t quite see inside, so turned his head sideways and tried
to listen. A middle-aged couple appeared in the corridor. Ralph tagged on behind them and entered the smoky room. When he
inhaled, though his nose was tickling already, he found the cigarette-tasting air intense and arousing. Its pungency twisted
the atmosphere like the dimming of lights.

In the center of the lounge a young couple was playing a ferocious and rhythmic game of table tennis. A woman sat on the floor
by the table legs, reading a book and occasionally picking up the ball and bouncing it back to them, expressionless. Around
the edges of the room at round tables people played cards, chatted, drank, stared ahead doing nothing. Their voices together
formed a low murmur as if all the separate clusters of people were involved in one conversation. So far Ralph had not seen
a single other white person.

He glanced around for Nanao. She was in a comer with her back to him. Her head was resting on her hands, bent slightly forward,
and it looked as though she was in deep thought. The more he watched her, the more he knew she was his. There were no empty
tables. He could either tum around and walk out, or join another group. There was a spare chair at Nanao’s table. Did he dare?
He walked over, pulled out the chair, and opened his mouth to ask if he could join her. But she was asleep. A couple of people
were watching him so he sat quickly and fumbled in his pockets for something to look at. He sat for an hour, watching her
over the top of his hotel reservation fax, as she breathed and dreamed, waiting for her to awaken. The table tennis continued
in the background like a metronome. Eventually the game ended, the couple put down the paddles. Nanao woke with a jerk. The
sudden quiet must have disturbed her. She looked at Ralph and jumped slightly.

“Hello again,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was you, with your head down.”

She looked confused but smiled politely.

“I was just going to ask …”

She stared at him, ran her fingers through her hair with mild annoyance at its messiness.

“I was just going to ask if you fancied a game of table tennis.”

“Pardon?”

“Table tennis.” He pointed at the game and mimed a paddle hitting a ball. “Me and you. Play game together. It’s fun.”

It seemed odd to be playing table tennis on top of water. Of course, there was the boat holding everything up, but still it
wasn’t quite natural. That was the sort of observation he couldn’t make to Apple. She would have sneered. Sometimes he hadn’t
even been able to think in front of Apple, in case he voiced his thoughts by mistake and she stomped off.
Shut your face you fuck off I don’t like you.