saw. All cultures had their mermaids, their sea nymphs, their watery
goddesses. And they all pandered the same thing: a transforming
love and a passport into a new world.
Yak trod the long arc of dark sand, listening for a message from
Loro Kidul but all he could hear was the undifferentiated white noise
of an unhappy ocean.
A message did come finally, though not in the form he expected.
A thin black arm waved to him from the maelstrom.
By the time Yak pulled Roy out of the sea and onto the shore, he was
unconscious and no longer breathing. Yak pinched his nose, tilted his
head back, and jumpstarted his breathing. Coughing and spluttering
his way back to sentience, Roy tried to focus upon the long-haired
figure in the sarong who knelt beside him, but his eyes were red and
crusted.
“Loro Kidul?” Roy said weakly.
The crowd burst into a hysterical, whooping laugher. He rubbed
at his eyes. “Some kid told me you were beautiful.”
“That I am,” Yak said.
Roy giggled like a freed madman. The crowd of Javanese laughed
heartily along, unconcerned about at what they were laughing.
“You’re right,” Roy admitted, “You’re the most beautiful
goddamn thing I’ve seen in ages.”
“Are you all right?” Yak said.
“I think I broke something,” Roy said.
“What?” Yak searched his body for awkward angles, “What did
you break?”
“My life!” he sputtered, spent.
As they waited for an ambulance and Roy shambled in and out of
consciousness, Yak sang him a lullaby. It was something terribly
heavy and sweet about tea and Chinese fables.
Like broken teapot pieces
Cast upon the floor
We’d better stick together
If we want to drink some more…
A newborn abandoned at the doorstep of eternity, Roy had been
fortunate that a Baptist was there to rebirth him.
ABYSSINIA
120
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