The Paradise Guest House (25 page)

“You lost him? Impossible.”

Jamie scans the street again.

“Okay, hang with me for a little while. He’ll show up.”

She walks into town, the dog at her side. She needs to buy a few souvenirs, since she’s leaving tonight. A necklace for her mom; bead bracelets for herself. Maybe she’ll stop by Isabel’s yoga studio and say goodbye.

She feels oddly content this morning. She doesn’t have a mission anymore. White knight found and lost. She called Gabe’s number many times last night, but he never answered his phone. He doesn’t need to—she believes that he has forgiven her. She was a fool to let herself think that what happened during those days after the bombing had anything to do with love.

At least Bali loves her. She appreciates the lightness in her step, the eagerness to buy trinkets. She even enjoys the dog by her side. I’ll get a dog, she thinks happily. I need a dog in my life again.

“Want to come home with me, TukTuk?” she asks.

The dog whimpers.

“Guess not. Why give up a life of crime?”

The word
crime
reverberates in her mind. Bambang must be in trouble, she suddenly realizes. With a quick chill, she imagines him beaten by someone he tried to con, left to die in a ditch at the side of the road. But the dog would never leave him.

“Where is he, TukTuk?”

The dog looks up at her. He tilts his head.

“You’re going to make me figure this out, huh?”

She leans down and ruffles his fur; he makes a mournful sound, as if this is a poor replacement for what he really wants. He wants Bambang.

“You hungry?” she asks him.

He stares up at her, his soulful eyes pleading.

“We’ll start with food.”

They walk to the open market. Jamie enters one of the passageways, then makes her way along the stalls. TukTuk stays at her side.

“Where are the food stalls?” she asks. “Why don’t I follow you, TukTuk? You must be able to smell all that good stuff.”

But they take a few wrong turns, passing colorful sarongs and ceramic pots, straw baskets and beaded jewelry. Hawkers call out to her: “You want this? Good price! I give you best price!” Jamie ignores them all.

Then the crowded passageway opens to a courtyard and she
sees food stalls ahead. She wonders about their policy on dogs near the food, but there are other strays combing the floor for whatever someone has dropped.

She steps up to a stall and points to a meat and rice dish. The old woman wraps the food in a waxed-paper cone and passes it to her. Jamie pays. She won’t feed the dog in the woman’s sight—she’s sure that would infuriate all the watchful eyes. So she leads TukTuk out of the market, and they stop in an alleyway.

“Breakfast,” she tells him.

The dog sits, waiting. She unwraps the paper cone and offers it to him. He takes a delicate bite of meat and then grabs the whole thing from her hand, scampers away, tosses it on the ground, and devours it with his back to her. She smiles, watching him.

“You needed that, didn’t you?”

When he’s done, he trots back to her side and, sure enough, he’s not whimpering anymore.

“My job’s not done, sweet dog,” Jamie tells him. “Where the hell is your boy?”

They walk out to the main street and start wandering through town. Jamie imagines that the dog will find Bambang first. But why was he waiting outside her guest house? Had he already given up his search?

She can’t think of a soul to ask: Have you seen that young boy who robs, steals, cheats?

Yoga lady! He talked about his yoga lady who helped him. It wasn’t Isabel, but that would be a good place to start.

“Let’s go, TukTuk. We’ve got the first whiff of him.”

They head to Isabel’s yoga studio, a ten-minute walk down
the main street of town. When they get there, Jamie sees that class is getting ready to start.

“Wait here,” she tells TukTuk.

She dashes inside and finds Isabel setting up her mat at the front of the room.

“Jamie! You’re taking a class?” Isabel asks.

“I need help. Do you know a kid named Bambang?”

Just as Isabel shakes her head, two women call out at once: “I know Bambang.”

Jamie turns toward the students. Most are arranging their mats and blankets and blocks and straps. One is in a head-stand. But two young women, on either side of the room, walk toward her.

“His dog showed up at my place this morning,” Jamie tells them.

“TukTuk,” one woman says.

“Right. That dog is always with Bambang. I have a feeling something happened to him.”

“Try the jail,” the other woman says. “He’s there once a month or so. They try to get him off the streets and they think that’ll scare him. But nothing scares him.”

“Has he ripped you guys off?” Jamie asks, suddenly curious.

Both women smile. “Who cares,” one says. “He’s a sweet kid.”

“Where’s the jail?” Jamie asks.

Isabel gives her directions, and by the time Jamie dashes out of there most of the women are sitting cross-legged on their mats, eyes closed, spines straight.

“Follow me,” she tells TukTuk unnecessarily. The dog trots after her.

She finds the jail easily. TukTuk stands guard outside while she enters through the imposing front door. Inside, she’s faced with a large open room with many desks, most of them empty.

Jamie finally finds a man who can answer her question. Yes, a boy named Bambang was arrested yesterday and charged with stealing the suitcase of a tourist at the Monkey Forest Hotel. Yes, he is still in jail. No, she cannot visit him.

The man—a scrawny cop too young to shave, it seems—eyes Jamie eagerly. He’s waiting for a bribe, she thinks.

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” she asks.

He points toward a long dark hallway.

She uses the empty bathroom to pull a twenty from her wallet, then rolls the bill so it fits into the palm of her hand. Her heart is beating fast. She has no idea if this will work or if it will get her arrested for attempted bribery. She may get to visit Bambang by occupying the cell next to his. A lot of good that will do for TukTuk, she thinks. Besides, she has a plane to catch.

She heads back toward the cop, who is now leaning over a desk, talking to a pretty Balinese girl.

“Excuse me,” Jamie says.

The cop turns toward her, unsurprised.

“I’d like you to give Bambang a message,” she tells him. “Can you tell him that Jamie is taking care of TukTuk?”

The cop shrugs.

“I appreciate it,” Jamie says, and puts out her hand.

The cop shakes her hand, and the money disappears into his palm. He turns and walks away.

Jamie waits a moment. She’s not sure what she’s waiting for: Her own arrest? Bambang’s appearance? But nothing happens, and finally she walks out of the jailhouse and stands in the
blinding light of the sun. It’s still early morning and already oppressively hot. She thinks of her flight tonight yearningly.

TukTuk pushes his nose into her leg; she’s been ignoring him.

“Sorry, buddy. I did my best.”

But the dog lets out a long howl. And then he’s flying into midair, landing in the arms of Bambang, who drops to his knees and wrestles with him. Both boy and dog make yipping sounds of delight.

Jamie laughs, watching their reunion, suddenly sure that the first thing she’ll do when she arrives in California is find a TukTuk of her own. Larson loves dogs, and if she’s taking care of him for a while, she might need a little moral support. Later she’ll have to travel less, but maybe it’s time she stuck around. She might try her hand at running the business end of things—the stuff that Larson does so well. She can find out if she likes that kind of work.

It’s a lot to think about, but she’ll take it slowly. Dog, Larson, home. A new life.

Bambang finally emerges from the tussle and bows to Jamie, his palms pressed together, thumbs to his chest.

“I thank you with my heart,” he says solemnly.

“Stop stealing from tourists,” she tells him.

“It was tourist with three suitcase,” Bambang says. “I only took smallest of three.”

Jamie shakes her head, but she can’t ditch the smile. He’s the unlikeliest of thieves, this scruffy kid who is disarmingly honest and sly at the same time.

“How did you find me?” he asks.

“Your yoga ladies take good care of you,” she tells him.

He looks confused.

“And TukTuk told me you were missing,” she adds.

Bambang scoots down for another love fest with his dog.

“I have to go pack,” Jamie tells him. “I’m leaving today.”

“I walk with you,” he says. “I be protector from pickpockets.”

“What a relief,” she tells him with a smile.

They walk onto the main street, and TukTuk pushes his way between them. He bumps against their legs as he prances along.

“Why you leave?” Bambang asks. “Is too soon to go.”

“I’m ready,” Jamie says.

“I will miss you,” he tells her very seriously.

Jamie glances at him. “Where are your parents?” she asks once again.

“Mother die,” he tells her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She’s not surprised. He’s a kid in search of a mother. She has the feeling that all he really wants is someone to feed him a hot meal and run a bath for him.

“Where’s your dad?” she asks.

They’re walking past the Royal Palace; the buses line up and Japanese tourists wait patiently for their guide, umbrellas shielding them from the sun. Jamie’s not sure if Bambang is ignoring her question or eyeing potential targets.

“Bambang?” she finally says.

“My father away.”

“Away?”

“Yes.”

“Where? Java?”

“Jail,” he says quickly.

Maybe Bambang learned his craft at the feet of his father, in the good Indonesian tradition. Fathers train their sons to be farmers or sculptors or weavers or painters. Why not thieves?

“For a long time?” she asks.

“Long time,” he says. “Maybe all time.”

Not a thief, Jamie thinks. If I can buy this kid’s release for a twenty, it would take some serious business to stay in prison for a lifetime.

“You have any family here in Bali?” she asks.

“No family,” Bambang says.

They walk in silence for a few minutes; somehow their good spirits have vanished. I don’t need to save this boy, Jamie tells herself. There will be other yoga ladies in his future.

But Bambang reaches out his hand to touch her shoulder.

“If I tell you story, you will hate Bambang,” he says. His face is grim; she smells the jail on him now.

“I will not hate you,” she tells him seriously. He seems to consider this for a while.

“Follow Bambang,” he says, and he turns down a side street.

A con, she thinks. But she tosses the thought aside; there’s no reason for him to trick her anymore.

They walk up a steep street. TukTuk runs ahead, then back, circling them, urging them on at a faster pace. Bambang is silent, his head bowed. Jamie waits for him to tell his story.

At the top of the hill is a path that heads into the woods. Jamie thinks for a moment: Is this safe? And then she abandons the thought. She’s surprised to realize she trusts Bambang.

TukTuk prances in front of them as if welcoming them. Sure enough, it’s home. Not very deep into the woods, Bambang has set up a wooden structure—not much more than a few boards nailed together. He painted one of the boards green, but it seems that he ran out of paint. There are the remnants of a
campfire, and a blackened pot sits on the ground beside the ashes.

Jamie peers inside the opening to the shelter: A woven palm mat fills the entire space of the room.

“Nice,” she says.

Bambang beams at her proudly.

“I never show house before,” he tells her.

“I’m honored.”

“You help me.”

TukTuk pokes at her hand, so she ruffles the fur on his head.

“You drink tea?” Bambang offers.

“No. Thanks.”

He points to a rock in front of the cabin.

“You sit here,” he says.

Jamie climbs onto the rock and sits, cross-legged. Bambang sits beside her.

They’re looking out over the rooftops of Ubud. There’s shade from a mango tree, and the perch feels oddly lifted above the land, as if they’re floating. I like it here, Jamie thinks. And then it’s clear to her: I like Bali.

She can see the rice fields that surround the town in all directions. There’s a mix of old buildings and new—a village in the process of becoming a city. She can smell frangipani from the garden below. She feels a kind of joy, even at this unlikely moment. Here she is with a street urchin, a baby con man.

“My father, he not a good man,” Bambang says. He’s staring out at the rooftops, his back as straight as those of the yoga ladies on their mats.

“What did he do?”

“My father angry man. He lose temper very easy, even for little thing.”

He stops talking, and TukTuk comes to his side. Bambang rests his hand on the dog’s head.

“One day, my mother and I sit in kitchen and play game with little sister. We are laughing—it is good time in our house. My father comes home and he is angry, always yelling at my mother. He tell her that there is no money and I can work, that I am too old to be spoiled mama’s boy in school and at home. My mother says no, I am very smart and I will go to school. My father hits her, hard, and she falls and her head cracks against the stove. There is so much blood and she doesn’t move. I take my little sister away so she cannot see.”

The boy waits a few moments. When his hand stops stroking TukTuk’s head, the dog pushes his nose into Bambang’s leg. Jamie’s body trembles as if she’s suddenly very cold.

“The police come to my house. My father tell the police that my mother fainted and hit her head. I said, no, my father hit her. He killed her.”

Bambang looks at Jamie. She can see his fear even now. She nods, unable to speak.

“My father go to jail. If it is not for all time, he will come to find me. He will kill me, too.”

“My God,” Jamie says quietly.

“Maybe I am bad man who put my father in jail.”

“Bambang,” she says. “You are not a bad man. You did the right thing.”

“He is my father,” Bambang insists.