The meal went well. Dinner was basic, vegetable and chicken fried rice. It hit the spot and made the evening feel normal. We watched the sunset; bats could be seen in the trees, and the full moon appeared in all its glory. With a slight wind caressing my face, I felt I was living in the moment, soaking up this night jungle atmosphere. Lucille and I walked towards the elevated patio and leaned over the balcony. I was admiring the stars. Memories of when I met Lucille and good times in Toronto rushed back momentarily. It was an exhilarating feeling. I was at the other end of the world in such an exotic setting while the best moments of my life with Lucille played at the speed of light in my head. I felt myself smiling. But I looked back at Lucille beside me. She was crying and told me, “I don’t think I love you anymore. I want to go home.”
Crushed and speechless, I walked her to our hostel. We went to bed and fell asleep. I assumed we would talk in the morning.
#
Later, when I woke up in the middle of the night, Lucille wasn’t there. I looked at the clock beside the bed. Twelve thirty. I fumbled for the light switch, turned it on and gazed around the room. Everything was as quiet as if I was the only person left on Earth. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Lucille wasn’t there. I opened our room’s main door and looked in the hallway. Nothing. “Lucille,” I called out in a small voice. No answer. I called out again, louder this time. Still no reply. My heart pounded. I didn’t even recognize my voice. It sounded unnatural. I went back to my room to put some clothes on. Radiant moonlight poured in the window, throwing weird and spooky shadows on the wall and floor. The whole scene looked like the set of an old black-and-white horror movie.
Suddenly I remembered it was a night like this when I had met Lucille for the first time back in Toronto. Except the moonlight wasn’t scary. It was vibrant, warm and sheltering. We bumped into each other while ice-skating at night at one of the city rinks. It was my fault. I was an awkward skater. As we apologized to each other, our eyes met, and I remember thinking she was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes upon.
I tugged on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, grabbed my wallet and went outside. Lucille must have had trouble sleeping and went for a walk. It had to be. The wind had completely died down. There was no air. I was too hot. All I could hear was my footsteps and commotion in the main street. I ran in that direction. At first, I thought it was a hallucination, like when the air pressure changes, and you hear a ringing in your ears. But listening carefully, I was able to make out screams, yells in a foreign language and people panicking, running in all directions. I began to feel afraid, but I wasn’t sure of what. People ran by me without stopping. I tried to stop a young man to ask him what was happening, and he said something in Khmer that I didn’t understand. He then started to point at a Tiger Balm poster ad on the window of a pharmacy. Confused for a second and understanding the danger next, my heart sank deep into my chest. I had trouble catching my breath, and then my heart started pounding. Where was Lucille?
