Elizabeth Lerman’s “Railay: Part Three”
Lena led herself down the steep set stairs and sat down on a flat rock that lay above a sand bank where small, strong men were hauling ropes, ready to tie down incoming boats. She watched them as she waited for Sam to sort out their drinks - two big bottles of Chang and two bigger bottles of water. The men worked swiftly and naturally, cigarettes hanging loosely from the corners of their mouths. One of them turned to her and caught her eye. She smiled at him and raised her hand in a wave. He smiled back and called out.
“Boats coming in,” he said, “almost ready.”
He motioned to the turquoise waters and readied his rope like a lasso, preparing to catch a steed. The longboats waded gently into the harbor, shaking in the low waves as their inhabitants rocked and readied themselves for their dismount onto the dock. Dock, Lena decided, was a bold word, because really they were stepping onto a long stream of tied buoys, which bobbed with threatening fervor as bodies and luggage stepped cautiously onto them. The tourists gripped one another as they wobbled along the buoys, bags hoisted onto their backs, making their way quickly to the still shore. Lena took a final drag of her own cigarette before dropping the butt into the sand and stomping it out. She looked at the crushed stub for a moment and though there were several others scattered on the ground, Lena was hit with a wave of guilt that made her pick up the butt and toss it in a nearby trash bag. She saddled up next to Sam who smiled at her and nodded to the trash, “Really doing your part,” she said with sweet sarcasm. Lena laughed. “It’s the literal least I could do.”
The girls walked along the sand padded streets, following signs for the local beach. They watched the boats as they went, eyeing their fellow travelers boarding with uncertain steps, squeezing onto the benches, sitting shoulder to shoulder like sardines, their sweat slippery and spreading. Lena welcomed the small splashes of seawater that landed on her legs as the motor was kicked into gear. As if operating a lawn mower, the young Thai man who had spoken to her on the shore ripped the engine once, twice, three times until it rumbled and emitted a puff of fumes that made Lena’s head go light. The smoke cleared and the girls walked on as the boat slid out of the harbor and into the open water, bobbing roughly in the wake of larger vehicles. Lena thought of the feeling brought on by small, short waves and smiled at the thought of her stomach rising and falling like it did on the deep drop of a rollercoaster. She had forgotten that feeling could be manifested by something physical. It seemed to Lena that, lately, she had felt that drop only through her mind, her emotions, and her unrelenting anxiety. She felt it when the seasons changed, and she felt it when she changed.
“It should be around this bend,” Sam said, looking down at a map of the island as Lena looked up ahead. The cliffs surrounding the peninsula were grandiose and intimidating with their jagged edges and hanging rocks. The girls breathed in when they saw the water, its color an unreal array of greens and blues, but not like any they had seen before, not like any they would see again, save for this spot.
“Jesus.” Sam whispered, neck craning up towards the cliffs Lena knew she was set on climbing.
“Wave to me from the top,” Lena laughed.
“You don’t want to climb?”
“I’m happy down here.” Lena said, spreading a towel over a warm patch of sand. She set a beer between her knees and cracked open the top with a lighter. She took a long, slow sip and smiled at Sam. “Really, I am.”
That night, Sam slept sounder than Lena thought possible, her breath and body heavy and hot. Lena stretched her legs down towards the edge of the bed and heard her knees whisper a soft crack. Her bones ached more than they used to. She glanced at the sleeping body next to her and spent a few more restless moments beneath the thin sheets before slipping out from under the cool linen. She walked quietly to the cabin’s small wooden dresser, her feet padding gently across the floor’s smooth clay tiles. She took a joint from her cigarette pack and snuck back past the bed and out onto the patio. Despite the before-dawn breeze there was still a thickness coating the air and a droplet of sweat ran down her back, trailing past the ridges of her spine, offering some pleasant relief from the persistent warmth that had sat itself down on her skin. The smoke made her breath deep and her eyes heavy and she realized, through the hypnotic heat, clouds falling from her mouth, that the stark silence of the evening did not seem to be mocking her the way quiet dark normally did and she did not feel any desire or desperation to shake the stillness away. Instead, Lena was okay with the nothingness of the night, knowing that Sam was asleep on the other side of the curtains, her hair catching in the same wave of wind.
