‘His name is Golo,’ Karl said. He was reclining on the floor, his arms folded behind his head as he stared at the magic sky. And the lovely maiden is called Genevieve. Isn’t she pretty?’
Adam nodded. He too lay down on his bed and looked at the sky. The rain drummed lightly on the roof and in the distance there was the faint rush of rough seas.
‘It used to be mine,’ Karl said. ‘I was about your age, I suppose, maybe younger. We had already left Indonesia and were living in The Hague. I had trouble sleeping. Every night there was a scene. My nanny – my Dutch nanny – would come into my bedroom and put the magic lantern on for me. I loved Golo, I wanted to be him. I would lie in bed hoping my mother would come and kiss me goodnight. I’d imagine her saying, “All right, my child, I’ll kiss you once last time, like Genevieve, but then you must go to sleep.” She never came, but at least I had my magic lantern to make me feel better.’
That night Adam ate his birthday dinner of meat loaf and fried potatoes as quickly as he could. He got into bed and turned the lights off, his room transformed once more into an enchanted forest. He thought about Neng, about the time she had tried to kiss him; he knew that she would never come back. He felt a bitter numbness that seemed familiar, as if left over from his Past Life in the orphanage, and he knew he had to blank it out before it took hold. He took a deep breath and counted slowly from one to ten. He had to eliminate this feeling from his New Life.
‘Good night, my son,’ Karl said, opening the door and breaking up the forest. ‘I know you’ve been having a difficult time, but just remember, we’re very lucky people. I hope you’ve had a nice birthday.’
Adam nodded as Karl turned the light out. ‘Wait,’ Adam said quietly in the darkness. ‘What day is it today? What’s my birthday?’
Karl paused at the door. ‘It’s August seventeenth.’
Later Adam would learn that August 17th was also Independence Day. On his birthday there would always be rousing songs on the radio as well as the President’s speech, the whole of which Karl would insist they listen to. There would be red-and-white flags hanging from the eaves of houses, and in the evening there would be festivities in the villages – food and dancing – that continued late into the night. Before he went to bed Adam would put on his magic lantern and stare at the swirling scenes that he knew so well, and he would listen to the far-off sounds of laughter and smell the faint sweetness of grilled meat and charcoal smoke that carried on the sea breeze.
No, Adam thought: he was not just like the other boys.
Slow down, Johan, slow down.
They drove through the silent city at speed, neon lights staining the night with electric temptations. PUSSY CAT $$$ SHANGHAI DREAM COPACABANA FANTASY GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS.
Please, Johan, slow down, Farah said. You’ll kill yourself one day if you keep driving like this.
At darkened intersections he ran the lights without even looking. He never looked out for other cars, he never looked out for anything. Don’t worry, he said, it’s OK it’s late, there are no cars. He drove with his head held back as if blown by the wind, but there was never any wind in this city.
Shit, Bob said in the back seat, this is great. He cowered as they careered round the roundabout, the new tyres of the Mercedes squeaking. Farah gripped the door tightly and said again, Please, Johan, for god’s sake, but she knew that there was no use talking to him when he was in one of these moods.
Hey, Johan, hey, guys, Bob said. Let’s go down to the river and see what’s happening with the girls. Friday night, all the Mak Nyahs will be out. Come on, let’s go.
No, Farah said. I don’t want to go. Johan, please.
Come on, Sis, be a sport. Let’s have some fun. What do you say, Johan? Everyone knows that those Pondans have the best tits in town. I want to see their little dresses with their asses sticking out oh, yes, sir.
Johan smiled and shrugged. OK, why not.
They slowed to a crawl as they left the lights of the broad tarred road and turned into a narrow lane, then into another alley, then a long thin road that ran along the shallow muddy river that hardly seemed a river at all, just a trail of sludge between two huge mudbanks.
Kill the lights, Johan, kill the lights quick.
The Merc crept along silently, hardly a rumble from its engine. Shadows stirred in the deep shadows under the old rain trees. There were a few cars parked along the road but it was difficult to tell if anyone was in them.
Get an eyeful of that baby, Bob said, sticking his head out of the window. The girls emerged from the darkness, singly or in pairs, linking their arms as they sashayed towards the car. There were all kinds of girls – Chinese girls, Malay girls, Indian girls and especially girls who were boys – but in the eternal nocturne of this street they were just girls.
Which ones are real, which are fake? Farah said. I can never tell.
Aduh, you’re really stupid, aren’t you? Bob giggled. What do you mean?
I mean, which ones are really girls? Don’t tell me you know which ones are, you know-
Transvestites? Johan said.
Yes, boys pretending to be girls.
Is it important? Johan laughed. He had a cold, hard laugh tonight. Farah did not like it when he got this way. Why do you need to know? Don’t tell me you want some action?
You’re disgusting.
Johan said, They aren’t boys pretending to be girls, they’re boys who are girls. Some of them aren’t even boys any more, they’re real girls…just like you.
Ceh. Farah shook her head. Don’t say that, they’re not like me.
Wow-ee, Bob cried. Hey girl, show us your tetek.
The prettiest ones are further up, Johan said, by that Austin under the big tree.
They stopped the car. There were about a dozen girls on the street. They felt safe now, they knew this car was not a police car. A couple of them walked in front of the Merc, swinging their hips and flicking their long glossy hair. Their calf muscles were taut and sinewy in their high heels and they swung small beaded handbags over their shoulders. Hey, boys, they cried, love your big car. Come here, boys, come and see what Mummy has for you.
Come on, Johan said and stepped out of the car.
Shit no way – Sis, stop him! That boy is crazy!
Johan come back, come back, Farah pleaded, it’s dangerous. But he was already some distance away, walking like he always did in his bright springy way with his hands in his pocket.
Johan, Farahs voice was an urgent whisper. Her footsteps in the dark: she was running. He did not look back. Ahead of him he knew there was a crumbling brick wall, just the right height to hide a couple crouching down behind it. And by this wall there would be a girl, always the same girl.
Hello, this girl said. Hello handsome. She was not tall and not short, the same height as Johan. She had slim shoulders and sturdy hips and she never concealed her face under a thick layer of powder, not like the other girls. I haven’t seen you in a while, she said, lighting a Winston. Where you been?
I’ve been around.
Is that your new girl?
No, that’s my sis.
Pretty.
Actually, she’s my adopted sister. Farah, Regina, Regina, Farah.
Hello.
Hello,