Paradise Destroyed

Her slim arms envelop me, squeezing me tight, oh so tight. Her arms are warm, the first warmth I’ve felt in two days. The warmth spreads, everywhere but to that cold knot that must be my heart. We blubber incohererently, drenching one another in salty tears and with disregard for our running noses. “So scared…crashing waves…two days...your poor mother…” bits and pieces of sentences slurring together, not holding any meaning. All that matters right now are her warm arms, “But where’s Basab?” I stiffen, but she only holds me tighter, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry…” The arms don’t keep me safe, the cold blackness comes over me again, taking me back, all the way back to the beginning…

My second day in Sri Lanka, and my godmother had left me to fare on my own. “See the sights. Do some shopping. Have fun!” she said, before she breezed out the door. I love my godmother, truly I do. I mean how many aunts would fly you out to paradise to spend the Christmas vacation with them?!? Then again, how many aunts make it big on the stock market and could easily retire at age 30? But even so, I was a bit ticked because she left me to fend for myself in a new city. I guess I could’ve stayed in her beachfront condo, but I didn’t want her to think I was moping, so I went and saw the sights of Galle.

By the end of the day I was in an awful mood. Everything was written in Sinhelese. All of the armed military men set my nerves on end. The oven-like, steamy air made everything smell overripe and made me feel claustrophobic. I had a feeling that I was being taken advantage of in the marketplace when buying little trinkets. Spicy curry and too much sun left me dehydrated; my face was burning and in all likelihood probably resembled a cherry. Therefore, I wasn’t in the mood to bargain with the saucy-looking tuk-tuk driver. I’d read about how you should bargain before getting a ride or risk being overcharged and making a scene if you object to the outrageous fare, but I simply didn’t have the energy.

He drove like a bat out of hell. In and out of traffic we swerved, running yellow and red lights, the warm air whipping my hair against my face. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, willing the curry to stay down. My stomach wouldn’t cooperate though, so with eyes bulging, I yelled, “Stop!” As we screeched to a halt, I emptied the contents of my stomach, out the open window, down the side of the tuk-tuk, and onto the street. As I weakly drew my head back into the vehicle, I turned to give the crazy Sri Lankan a piece of my mind. I got as far as “You asshole,” when the concern in his eyes halted my tirade, and I slumped back into my seat.

He eased off the curb and this time, slowly navigated his way through traffic. He took a roundabout way to the condo, driving along the sea. “This should help,” he said. I inhaled the warm salty breeze and looked out at the sun glimmering off the glassy water, I agreed.

When we reached the condo, he insisted that the ride was on him, “After all, I can’t be making pretty Americans puke, and then take their money.” While I laughed at his flattery, he dug around the floor of the tuk-tuk, then finding a gum wrapper and pen, scribbled a number and name on the wrapper. “My business card,” he said, eyes sparkling as he handed me the wrapper, “If you ever need a lift.” Strangely, my heartbeat picked up a notch and I noticed a cute little dimple in his brown cheek.

“Stupid, stupid stupid,” I told myself as I walked to the door, “Why would you want to ride with someone crazy like him again? He’s just trying boost business is all.”

Nevertheless, the next day, after a relaxing, but exhausting day on the beach, I fingered the gum wrapper when my godmother suggested sampling the cuisine on the town. On impulse, I told her I’d call the tuk-tuk, which brought on a slew of questions. By the time Basab arrived, my godmother knew the whole story.

As we got in the car, I saw him give my aunt the once over. She gets that a lot. Long and graceful, golden in flowing skirts. She has always reminded me of an ancient goddess. Then, to my surprise he gave me the same look, which sent my heart to fluttering.

We went to a native joint, spicy food and lots of water. Over our meal and to the hum of guitar music my aunt analyzed his body language. Her confidence in his attraction to me got me to believing myself.

Basab was outside waiting to take us home at eight like we told him. This time he once again drove slowly. I was utterly content. With a full stomach and warm sultry air blowing past my face I just leaned back and enjoyed the ride. When my aunt asked Basab to stop and let her walk the remaining blocks to her condo, I was surprised. I shouldn’t have been. “I need to work off some of that meal,” she said. A lot of scheming and planning goes on in her pretty head.

We slowed to a snails pace, and I began to blush and feel flustered. He began to talk then, in a low, smooth drawl. He told me a story about shrine. Sacrifice, blood, and love, weaved together, sliding in concert like a song. And then we were home.

He turned to me, with those sparkling, perhaps mischievous, eyes, breaking the spell. Grinning with confidence in his outlandish pick-up lines, he asked me if I would go out with him sometime outside of work. I told him, “Maybe.” I have learned a thing or two from my aunt.

Soon forgetting my attempt at coyness, I called him the next day, and the next, and the next. When my aunt wasn’t around and even sometimes when she was, I spent my time with Basab. We zipped about Galle in the little tuk-tuk for many hours until the swerving and jarring no longer made me close my eyes. Basab introduced me to fresh seafood and the famed tea of Sri Lanka. He gave me some bartering tips. One warm sultry night he took me to see dancing in the streets. Such vivid colors. Such amazing dancers, so nimble and quick, performing seemingly impossible acrobatics. We swam in the ocean, jumping into the waves as they rolled in. I was right about that mischievous glint. He was forever trying to make me laugh, always teasing.

One night we walked along the beach by the light of the moon. Still-warm sand sifted beneath our feet. We talked of the future. I’d go back to college in the states while he would stay here in paradise with his escorting service. I didn’t want to leave this tropical haven, but of course there was no choice. We agreed this couldn’t be just a fling, though all I could think of was those magazine articles warning against this exact situation. We made promises to email and call one another. Maybe we’d even send some personalized videos. Perhaps he or I would make the trip over spring break or in the summer. Both of us could pick up another job. Of course I’d be back next Christmas break.

Then we decided to let all our worries go and only think about now. That agonizingly sweet kind of happiness swelled in my heart when I settled between his legs with his arms wrapped around me, water lapping gently against my toes.

The morning after Christmas we took off for Kataragama. We wanted to visit a holy shrine located there. We left early and took our time following the scenic coastal route. As we drove along I began to notice some odd changes in the ocean. It seemed to be retreating and had lost it’s sapphire-like color. In fact, it began to look muddy. “Is the water bad here?” I asked Basab.

“No,” he replied stopping the tuk-tuk. We got out of the car and went down to the beach for a closer look. “Something’s definitely not right,” he said. “Lets get outa here.”

As we made our way back to the tuk-tuk, an eerie hissing noise cut through the air. Looking back, I saw a gigantic wave rolling in. I screamed and we took off in a run. The wave crashed onto land, chasing us down like a freight train, catching us as just we reached the tuk-tuk.

“Hang on!” Anon yelled before we went under. The vehicle was hurtled forward, yanking us along. My arms burned from the strain of holding on. The sea began to recede, and as it did so, the tuk-tuk became lodged between two trees. Following Basab’s lead, I shakily crawled higher into the tree’s branches, reaching him as another wave rushed over us. Wrenching, burning, engulfing us as we clung to the tree for dear life. Yet another rush of water tore over us. I screamed when a large limb hit Basab in the head, rendering him a limp and helpless. The current sucked him under and I screamed. My eyes strained for the sight of Basab, but he never resurfaced. I clung to that tree for hours, days? Closed my eyes and hung on, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”

I got down. I wandered about, in shock I suppose. I don’t remember much, nothing but gray nothingness. Everything out of place, cars in trees, sharks on land, but there are no trees, so that can’t be right…just nothingness. Like a nuclear bomb just wiped everything away. I lost my heart.

I remembered my aunt, my godmother, the Greek Goddess. She’s been waiting for me. I got back to Galle, I don’t know how. Hitchhiked maybe? Walked? I found her in a relief shelter. She hugs me and I finally cry.