Chapter 9

 

The white ferry boat splashed water everywhere, inside and out. The sliding plexiglas window was hopeless. There was so much rust and gunk on its frames that an oxen wouldn’t have been able to move it an inch. Carlos and Mai would have taken the seats in front where there was less splatter and the windows were more functional, but they were taken by a group of posh-looking elderly individuals. With all the jostling, it wasn’t worth moving around while in transit. By the time the boat decelerated, the spiky plastic flooring was wet, and Carlos’s jeans were several shades darker at the knees. Mai had draped her jacket over her thighs, so the splatter didn’t bother her much while she persistently zoned out.

 

Carlos was a little excited for a change of scenery when Mai told him that they were going over to the other shore. Other than that, she had not told him anything else, which made what excitement he had turn back into anxiety. The boat eased into a concrete crevice lined with recycled tires, all shiny black when the water lapped onto them. A few dockhands jogged out to secure the boat in place, and the passengers took turn stumbling out of the still swaying vehicle. A team of bellboys, clad in identical gold-colored vests (probably staffed by the same leisure management firm), were hauling one expensive leather luggage after the other, chipping away at the gaudy pile of paraphernalia. Only the young couple were without baggage. Carlos heard an irate matriarch fretted on about how the water would ruin her mink coat. Looking upward, he could see the brick and mortar giants behind their stone and leaves, gazing out with their tempered glass eyes. With the winds picking up hard this side of the shore, his shins felt cold.

 

Everyone was taxied off to their respective residences. Carlos paced idly by a pier, listening to gusts blowing in his ears. It was an overwhelming sound; dead leaves swirled a yellow ballet, providing a rustling chorus. Hearing it so clearly made him realize how open and empty this dock was, now with the legions of golf cars and white upper-class pensioners gone. It was only him and Mai, in the distance, trying to get a reception. They had crossed a river, yet it felt like an ocean for the isolation made it no dissimilar to being stranded on an island. Carlos paced even faster as his anxiety grew. He was at the threshold and still didn’t know anymore than any day before.

 

From up the stony slopes, out of the yellowing hedges, a lone golf car calmly made its way to the young couple. Carlos noticed the way his girlfriend was closely watching the cart, as though in anticipation. This must have been their ride, he thought to himself, so he followed after Mai. More than anything, he noticed the woman behind the wheels. The little white motorized box wasn’t manned by any typical bellboy in their little vests. The driver was an older woman with a black curly hair done in a short bob. When the car stopped, the boy could see her in full. With one foot on the ground and elbow rested on the wheels, she looked like someone lounging on their porch. She seemed close in age with one of his younger aunts.  Her hair was nowhere as dark as Mai’s, but instead of Mai’s loose curls, the woman’s was more kinky. She had a simple tight polo and frayed shorts on, but Carlos couldn’t stop looking at her. He thought he recognized her.

 

“Hi!” She greeted in a cheery and husky tone.

“Hello! It’s me,” Mai sounded livelier than she had ever been. The woman lowered her sunglasses, these rounded rainbow lens, checking up on the odd pair: A tiny Asian girl who looked like she had crawled out of a black and white Diesel lookbook; A lanky Latino wearing what probably was the world’s most sun-washed flannel shirt, plus the wet blue jeans. Carlos asked himself why he was suddenly so self-aware about how they looked; he felt short of breath. Was it her smile? Her casual swagger that was an antithesis to the stuffed-up air of this place? Her breathy voice? The woman herself only came plainly, anyways.

 

“Mai, I could tell from a mile away.”

“Yes, yes, um, here’s my boyfriend, Carlos,” Mai stuttered, turning back and forth, whipping her black hair around her face. “He drove me here. Split, this is Miss Mulway. That’s whom I’ve been talking to these past few days.”

“Pleased to meet you, I hope you’ve been taking good care of her,” in a breathy voice, she didn’t so much hope, but rather stated. Carlos chuckled and nodded politely, questioning to himself just about how much Mai has told this person about him. “Mai, dear, let’s go over to my humble abode (she inflected). This witch has tea and sweets ready for you kids. There’s so much we should talk about.”

 

They boarded the vehicle, got settled into the cream leather, and braced for the ride up hill. The stone tile road was well decorated flower beds and hedges, though most of it donned the look of autumn more so than spring. The pleasant noon light sprinkled through the emptying branches. Each house that they had passed looked dramatically different from the last. Some were smooth white modern, others were brick and mortar classic. They even drove by one done up like a Roman villa, statues and columns included. Carlos truly believed this was a completely different corner of the Earth from the riverside town where they were staying. The island was shaping up to be a garden.

 

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Mai.”

“It’s twice as much on my end,” Mai spoke over the droning engine. The woman chatted with Mai, using words and phrases only two friends who have talked for a long time understood. Carlos watched the scenery that was passing by, knees bouncing nervously. He felt Mai’s hand crawling close and grabbing his while the woman talked. He could tell that she was just as anxious as he was.