Page 58 of Well, That Was Unexpected

“She does. And the point is, what you two said is so different from the real me that I don’t know which version she likes.”

At this, Papa starts laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, son. Obviously she like proper version. The one Eleanor and I come up with. That one is very good version, every girl will fall for.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

“That version is good catch,” he continues. “Like to do calculus, want to provide for family, is good husband material.”

I glare at Eleanor. Of course Papa would think that’s the ideal guy, but Eleanor should know better. But all she does is shrug and say, “Don’t look at me, gege. I tried telling Papa that times have changed, but I am but a powerless, innocent child.”

“Mm-hmm. Okay. I’m gonna go for a walk.” Actually, what I really want is to take a long shower. But knowing my family, they’ll all be waiting outside of the bathroom the entire time.

Outside, I wave at Fauzi and the other employees, who are all smoking, and begin walking. I’m not really sure where I’m headed, except I know I don’t want to run into anyone I know, so I walk away from the main resort building. I guess I should be grateful that Eighth Aunt wasn’t at the villa to join in the interrogation. Kind of weird, that. She’s usually around, especially when Papa’s going over the details for tomorrow’s launch. That’s Eighth Aunt’s jam. I shrug and exhale. Who cares about that right now? Why am I even thinking of Eighth Aunt?

I follow the winding path until I hit the boundary of the resort, which is bordered by a tall wall, then I start going down the steps toward the beach. The resort boasts several kilometers of beachfront, and at this hour, there are still quite a few people out on the sand and lounging in the cabanas. I take off my sandals and walk to the waterline, relishing how the sand feels between my toes, and look out onto the water, feeling like my insides have been carved out, leaving me an empty husk. Okay, that sounds really dramatic. I guess I do have some of my dad’s side of the family’s flair after all.

It has been a day. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air. In my mind’s eye, I see Sharlot’s face again. The way she’d looked at me as we revealed things about ourselves to each other. Real things, not surface bullshit. The way her hand had felt in mine, an utterly perfect fit. And then the desperation on her face when I told her I needed to reveal something. My chest twinges like my entire being is cringing with embarrassment. She had been so eager to get away from me. Have I misread everything? I’d thought that maybe she felt the same way I did. I sift through everything that happened today. The latte-art class, when Lukmi had asked me to put my arms around Sharlot. I could’ve sworn she’d leaned into me then, pressing her back up against my chest. I can still smell the fresh, tropical-flower scent of her hair. Or had I just imagined it? Maybe I was the one pressing up against her like some creep, and she’d been inwardly screaming?! Oh god, I can totally see guys doing this kind of shit and thinking it’s romantic while girls either roll their eyes or make panicky faces at their friends to come rescue them. How did I become one ofthese assholes? What else have I misread? When I held her hand, was she actually dying to get away from me? AAAAHHH.

I’m this close to running down the beach while wailing, Papa-style, when a familiar voice says, “Oh, hey.” I look up and who do I see, but Sharlot herself.

Great. Oh man. My mind has just chosen to implode about her, and here she is in the flesh. Why is she here? Chinese-Indos don’t tend to go for the beach in Bali, because we’re obsessed with not getting a tan. Then it hits me that she’s more American than Indonesian, and if the movies are anywhere near accurate, she’s probably all about getting a tan. Or maybe my mind needs to stop churning a mile a minute and give my mouth something to say instead of staring at her like some creepy creep?

“Uh.” I should probably say something a little bit more cerebral than “uh,” but my mind is drawing blank after blank.

“You okay?” Sharlot says, tucking her hair behind an ear. It’s immediately blown loose by the sea breeze. I find myself reaching out to tuck it back in for one horrifying second before my mind manages to catch up with my hand and wrestle it back down to my side.

Snap. Out. Of. It.

I give myself a little shake of the head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just wanted to, uh, take a little walk before dinner. Clear my head.” Speaking of heads, I lower mine and then start walking, because the last thing I want to do is make Sharlot uncomfortable again.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” she says, falling into step besideme.

My mind’s knitting itself into the most elaborate knots,trying to come up with explanations as to why Sharlot is choosing to walk with me. I mean, I haven’t asked her or anything, she’s the one who chose to join me. So maybe I haven’t misread everything after all? You wouldn’t join a guy you found repulsive on a walk on the beach, right?

“I think we’re having a Japanese-Balinese infusion thing here, uh, at the hotel. I don’t know.”

“Wow, Japanese-infused Balinese food. That sounds yummy.”

“Sure, yeah.” My stomach’s puckered into the size of a walnut and the thought of food is unbearable right now.

She glances at me before looking off into the horizon. I remind myself not to stare.

“Um, why are you out here? You must be tired after today.” Did that sound as awkward out loud as it did in my head? How have I forgotten how to converse in the space of a few minutes?

“I’m still pretty keyed up, actually. I blame it on the coffee. I’m not used to the stuff you guys have here. They’re so strong. I swear they’re laced with cocaine or something.”

I laugh at that. “I guess if you’ve only grown up drinking Starbucks…”

“Wow, okay, coffee snob,” she shoots back without any barb. She takes a deep inhale and stretches her arms over her head. “But yeah, I did grow up drinking Starbucks and thinking that was real coffee. I’ve got no problem admitting I was wrong about that. I…I’ve been wrong about a lot of things recently.”

Is it just me or is the look she gives me just then a particularly meaningful one? I need to take a class on how to decipher looks from girls.

“I’ve been wrong about a lot of things too,” I say. What I really want to do is elaborate and tell her I was wrong to judge her based on our chat messages, but what if I wasn’t wrong?

She takes a sudden long breath and says, “Um, so at the monkey forest, you were about to tell me something?”

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