Lucky Break Page 7

  I crossed my arms and bit my lip and was just about to fire back a cranky text to Feb, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find a lanky Thai man with shoulder-length black hair and a ripped T-shirt that said Peace Corps, but that looked surprisingly cool and vintagey.

  “You must be February’s sister,” he said, showing two deep dimples when he smiled.

  “How’d you know?” I said. People were almost always surprised when they found out Feb and I were sisters. We couldn’t look—or act—more unalike.

  He glanced down at a scrap of paper, then held it out for me to see my sister’s handwriting:

  HOT BLONDE, PROBABLY DRESSED IN ALL BLACK, WILL BE BITING HER LIP AND CROSSING HER ARMS BY THE TIME YOU FIND HER.

  “Oh,” I said, looking down at my Twenty8Twelve black turtleneck and black Marc Jacobs jeans. I quickly uncrossed my arms and made a mental note to stop biting my lip in the future.

  “She also wrote out a description of your luggage,” Benjy said. “I hope you don’t mind—I saw it come around the conveyor, so I grabbed it.” He pointed at the ground, and there was my burgundy Brix duffel. Relief washed over me. I decided to forgive Feb just a little bit for sending such a helpful guide in her place.

  A train, rickshaw, and canoe ride later, I was even gladder to have Benjy around. From the window of the train, he pointed out the clustered buildings making up downtown, and even gave a few good recommendations for dance clubs along the way. Sitting next to me on the rickshaw, as we got farther away from the hectic inner city, he gave me the history of the rice marshes where he and Feb and Kelly were all working. As we climbed into the canoe and he rowed us through the misty water of the Chao Phraya River, he explained how the terrain had changed during the monsoon seasons the past few years. As we floated past the bamboo reeds, the scenery was phenomenal and unlike anything I’d ever seen before, but I was starting to wonder if I’d ever reach my sister.

  “There you are—finally!” a familiar voice called from the bank of the river. Feb was standing on a short wooden dock, waving both her arms over her head. She was wearing a simple black smock and baggy jeans, and her hair was cropped super short. Last month’s red dye was already growing out, so half her hair was her natural dark brown, but the tips were a muted red color. My sister looked nothing like the Feb I’d had lunch with last week, but it was still so good to see her.

  “So,” I said, after we’d hugged and I had a chance to finally take in the thatched roof hut behind her. “This is the most unusual Four Seasons I’ve ever seen.”

  Feb looked confused, then flung her hand dismissively in the air. “That’s a little white lie so Mom doesn’t totally freak about the Peace Corps thing. You know, Flan, you can’t always tell her the truth.”

  But when she saw the surprised look on my face, she quickly added, “Forget I said that, bad advice. Anyway, you’re here now and that’s what matters.” She put her arm around my shoulder and led me to the bungalow.

  “It’s a little rustic, but it’s off the grid, and it’s really close to our work quarters, so …” She trailed off, pulling back a beaded curtain to expose a small bedroom. Inside was a large window facing the river, and no furniture other than simple pallet on the floor and a mosquito net hanging from the ceiling.

  “Oh God, you’re stunned silent,” Feb said, sounding nervous. “This must be quite a shock after the villa treatment you probably got in Sorrento. Do you hate it?”

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “This might be coolest place I’ve ever stayed.”

  “See, I told you Flan could handle it,” Kelly said, coming up behind Feb to give me a hug. He was also dressed in a simple smock and casual jeans. He’d carried in my duffel bag and set it down on the floor.

  “You are aware that your mom told us to put you right to work, aren’t you?” he said, with a sly smirk on his face.

  “Kelly’s kidding, Flan.” Feb sighed, exasperated. “We’re not going to put you to work—are you crazy? We want you to enjoy yourself here.”

  “But Mom said I need to keep busy, to keep my mind off of—”

  “Trust me, there’s plenty to keep you busy here—and keep your mind off of he who shall remain nameless—without sticking you in a rice field. Look,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her smock. “I made you a whole list of things to do.”

  She handed me a sheet of paper with her signature messy scrawl. The list was broken down by category: restaurants, shopping, and sacred places. I wanted to see everything—I didn’t even know where to start. Luckily, at that moment, my stomach growled, pulling my eyes to the restaurant section first.

  “Tom Yam Kung sounds great,” I said, thinking that if a restaurant was named after my favorite spicy lemongrass soup, it had to be delicious.

  “It’s the best in the city.” Feb nodded. “You have to go there—in fact, you should go tonight.”

  “I should go?” I repeated. “Won’t we go there together?”

  Feb shot Kelly a look and scratched her head. “Thing is, Flan, we’re doing this fast. Just for another thirty-six hours—don’t look so shocked, it’s really restorative.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re not going to eat … at all?”

  Kelly piped up: “But don’t let that stop you from enjoying yourself.”

  Didn’t Mom send me to here to shake me out of the Feast, Fast, Fall mind-set?

  “Here’s what you do,” Feb said. “Take our canoe across the river, hail yourself a rickshaw into town, and have it drop you off at Khao San Road.”

  “By myself?” I asked.

  “It’s a total party zone,” Feb said. “You’ll have a blast.”

  Before I knew it, both of them were guiding me back down the dock, where a row of old canoes was moored. Feb handed me an oar and said, “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  I forced myself to nod, even though I was anything but sure. I didn’t want to get in the way of their fast, or make them wish they hadn’t agreed to put me up.

  “Don’t stay out too late,” Feb warned, as if I’d be rocking the clubs till dawn.

  “That’s right,” Kelly agreed. “We have big plans for you tomorrow.” And with that, Feb gave the canoe a gentle shove with her foot and sent me down the misty river by myself.

  This was crazy, and terrifying, and … really freaking cool. As I paddled down the river (something I hadn’t done since Camp Starlight) I tried to mentally recap how I, Flan Flood, had ended up here. It didn’t seem possible—or real.

  When I heard the special “Paper Planes” ringtone that I’d set for Camille—hallelujah!—I seized the phone from my pocket. Hopefully there were no laws about canoeing and talking on your phone at the same time.

  “Camille?” I said.

  “Flan?” she said.

  “Please tell me I’m not dreaming,” we both said at the same time.

  “You first,” I said.

  “I’m in Jade Moodswing’s atelier! Help! I’m addicted to couture. What about you?”

  I struggled between wanting to ask Camille a million questions about Jade’s new line and wanting to spill everything about my trip to Thailand.

  “I’m rowing myself down the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok,” I said finally.

  “Ha-ha. So, tell me—how are the Italian men?” she asked.

  “No, seriously, I’m in Bangkok. Italy … wasn’t working,” I said, using my mom’s expression. “So I flew out last night—”

  “Flan, you’re breaking up!” I looked down at my phone and saw that I was just about out of range. Before the phone completely cut out, I heard bits of Camille shouting. “You better write me a long e-mail pronto, and you’d better send pics of you having fun!”

  I sighed and hung up the phone, just as tip of the canoe nudged the bank of the river. A cluster of rickshaw drivers were leaning up against a bungalow, waiting to take people into the city.

  “You need a ride, miss?” three of them jumped to ask. />
  I thought about Camille yelling at me to have fun, about SBB’s looming deadline for getting over Jony, and about my mom insisting that keeping busy would help. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the canoe, and said, “Take me to Khao San Road.”

  Chapter 12

  THE GURU GETS IT

  Mooooo. Mooooooo!”

  Wednesday morning, I awoke on my mosquito-netted pallet to the sounds of a cattle stampede.

  “Feb?” I called, struggling to pull myself out of bed after what felt like a very short night of sleep. I guessed I was still out of whack from the time zone changes. “I thought you were working on a rice farm,” I said. “Not a dairy farm.”

  When I pushed back the beaded curtain separating my bedroom from the main living space of the bungalow, I saw that Feb and Kelly were seated on the floor. Their eyes were closed and their legs were folded in this crazy yogic position. Just as I opened my mouth to ask where the cow pen was, both Feb and Kelly opened their mouths and let out a sonorous moooooo.

  Oh. That’s where the cow pen was.

  “Very nice. Keep breathing, the answer is within you,” a very soft male voice chanted.

  I hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the room, but once my eyes fell on the small, round man in the corner, it seemed like an easy mistake. He was wearing a knee-length linen shirt and loose slacks, both the same color as the walls. His wrinkled skin bunched up to hide his features. He could easily have been a hundred years old. Who was this dude?

  I tried to tiptoe toward the bathroom to brush my teeth, but the sound of my steps on the dirt floor caused one of Feb’s eyes to pop open. When she looked at me, she lost her balance and fell out of her meditation position.

  “February, you have broken your nirvana,” the man said.

  “I’m sorry, Guru,” Feb said, sounding more reverent than I’d ever heard her sound when she spoke to my parents. “I sensed another presence and broke my concentration.” She pointed at me. “This is my younger sister, Flan.”

  I was starting to feel like all I’d done since I got to Thailand was interrupt my sister and her new Zen way of life. I was about to duck into the bathroom in shame, when Kelly waved me over to the floor.

  “Come join us for the breakfast mediation,” he said. “You’re just in time for one last mantra.”

  These two were substituting meditation for breakfast! But I guessed I wouldn’t be opposed to combining the two. The few times I’d gone to yoga with SBB had been really chill and relaxing, and you know what they say: when in Thailand …

  I plopped down on the floor between them, trying to fold my legs up accordingly. Okay, I was just going to have to settle for preschool pretzel style.

  The guru started walking in circles around our cluster on the floor. He was repeating the same Sanskrit phrases, so softly that it almost sounded like he was speaking to himself. Feb whispered occasional translations to me, and I tried to sink into the zone. But I was getting hungrier by the mantra—and eager to find an Internet café or someplace I could send Camille a real update. There was so much I needed to spill. I kept opening my eyes to see if anyone else was finished chanting. Every once in a while, the guru would catch my eye and give me a soft, smiling shake of the head.

  By the end of the session, twenty pad-thai-on-the-brain minutes later, Feb and Kelly’s faces were beading with sweat. Both of them belted out the same final mantra at the same haunting pitch. When they opened their eyes, they looked at each other and shared a smile.

  When Feb finally stood up to get a glass of water, I followed her to the kitchen.

  “So what was all this moo stuff about?” I asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the tiny fridge for myself.

  “Mu,” she corrected. “We were exercising our inner questioner. You use mu to respond to something irrelevant. Roughly, it means ‘un-ask the question.’ But, you know, in a groovy, peaceful sort of way.”

  I nodded. “So, if I were to ask you if there was a good place for coffee and a New York bagel around here—”

  “Mu,” Feb interrupted, cracking a smile. “I have to change the subject before I start thinking too hard about an everything with jalapeño cream cheese from H&H.” She sighed. “So how was last night?”

  “Fun,” I lied, thinking about how lonely I’d felt sitting at the restaurant all by myself, and how even though there were all these cool street vendors to explore, I’d basically come straight home after having a bowl of soup.

  “You’re bored,” Feb said, reading my tone. “Listen, I promised you a good time, and I’m going to show you one.”

  I grinned. When Feb said that, it usually meant shopping by day to prepare for a killer party by night.

  “Cool,” I said. “So where should we brunch? I know there’s no Orsay, but—”

  Feb held up a hand. “Sorry, Flan. Our fast ends at sundown. And I have to work in the fields until then. Hey, quit frowning. We’ll throw down tonight.”

  “But—” I started to say, imagining another day of wandering listlessly around town.

  “Before you get all melancholy on me,” Feb said, “Kelly thought you might want to spend some time with our guru.”

  “Huh?” What on earth would I do with a guru?

  “He’s a really good listener,” Feb insisted. “Maybe you could talk things out.”

  I looked over at the guru, who had Kelly lying on the floor with both of his legs in a pretzel position behind his head. It didn’t look like there was a whole lot of listening going on, just a whole lot of physical strain. But if Feb was going to be at the rice paddies all day, what else did I have to do?

  “I’m not going to have to do any Cirque du Soleil–style positions, am I?” I said.

  “Mu.” Feb laughed, and brought me over to the guru.

  An hour later, I was sitting at the top of a cliff, looking down at all of Bangkok, which seemed so far away. After Feb and Kelly hosed me down with some crazy Thai mosquito repellent and outfitted me in a pair of Feb’s army green waterproof boots, the guru led me up a steep trail, through what felt like an enchanted forest, across two rushing streams, and finally to a clearing at the top of a cliff.

  “This is a space of total serenity,” he said in the same even tone of voice. “I hope you will find it comfortable.” He motioned for me to take a seat on a rock facing the cliff’s edge, and together we looked out at the view. I was watching the slow movement of canoes and cargo boats down the river, when the guru took my hand and slid something inside it.

  I looked down to find a red stone on a red rope. I’d seen a lot of these amulets for sale on the streets last night, but I hadn’t stopped to look closely at any of them yet. This one featured a carving of a small, smiling Buddha figure, who didn’t look unlike the guru. When I looked up at him, he took my hand and flipped the amulet over to the other side. I held it up to the light to read a tiny inscription on the stone:

  Protection from your feelings of betrayal.

  “You came here looking for answers,” the guru said.

  “Actually,” I said, twisting my fingers around the necklace, “I came here because my mom thought—”

  He put his hand up as if to apologize for interrupting. “But you are here, and you are seeking answers. Your sister says you have had a betrayal,” he said evenly, as if it were totally normal for my sister to fill in this stranger on the intimate details of my heart.

  I looked out at the sun, which was starting to peek over the trees lining the river, and I couldn’t help wondering what kind of rare birds were perched in their branches. Alex would know. He’d have a book, and his binoculars, and … The guru was still staring at me.

  “If you are looking for the fleeting hornbill, you’ll find him there,” he said, pointing a finger at the low bough of a tree where a wild black and yellow bird took flight. “But just like everything else in life, his perch is fleeting.”

  “I really liked him, Guru,” I said softly. “Not the hornbill—my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.”
/>
  “Just as the sun and the stars are in motion, so is your pain. Relief will come.”

  Clearly this guy had never met SBB. He might have been very wise in some circles, but he had no idea that in my near future, there was either a party—or an appointment with Berserk Bianca. I didn’t want to disagree with the guru, who had a really sweet disposition and an impressive grasp on local wildlife, but for my own sake, I had to disagree. Recalling the jpeg that SBB had sent me of Bianca—drawn cheeks, severe hairline, terrifying eyes—I knew I didn’t have time to give it time!

  “With all due respect, Guru,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness, “I disagree. I can’t just let this heartbreak run its course. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be me.”

  “‘Me’?” the guru repeated, seeming to mentally chew on the word. “That is not a Buddhist outlook.” He patted my shoulder. “But you have a strong will. I like that.”

  “So you don’t disapprove of my trying to move on?” I asked.

  “Mu,” he said, so solemnly it took me a second to realize that he was making a joke.

  “Wear the amulet,” he said, standing up from his rock on the mountain. “You may choose not to take the Buddhist approach, but the Buddha will still watch over you.”

  I slipped the amulet over my head and shook the guru’s hand. “Luckily,” I joked, “red is totally my color.”

  After we parted ways, I decided to stay in the place of serenity for a little longer. I pulled out my phone and texted SBB:

  WHIRLWIND WEEK. DIVERTED TO THAILAND TO HANG WITH FEB. BUT DON’T WORRY—OPERATION GET OVER JONY STILL IN FULL SWING. BETTER DUST OFF YOUR PARTY MANOLOS FOR MY RETURN. HOW’S THE WEIGHT GAIN GOING?

  The speed of SBB’s response made me feel like the amulet was working already:

  GREETINGS FROM IN-N-OUT BURGER IN L.A. JR SAYS I’M IN THE SEVENTIETH PERCENTILE FOR MY WEIGHT CLASS. I WILL NOT LET IT GET ME DOWN! GLAD THAILAND SEEMS TO BE BEEFING UP YOUR HEART. SHOULD I KEEP BIANCA’S NUMBER ON SPEED DIAL … JUST IN CASE?