MONICA.
The single thing I was most particularly looking forward to this trip was to walk along Tuban Beach from the old Balihai Hotel towards the Pantai Restaurant, our inevitable meeting place for at least some of our beach friends. Out from under the trees would come little Monica, of the teeth, for those of you who have followed our past stories. It was Monica who made and sold little beady things and therefore who seemed to have more time than the others (who were involved in their massages or manicures or foot scrubs) to be the ‘cockatoo' and see all that approached along the sand.
For those of you who have not had the chance to follow our past ramblings try this link - http://www.filosbali.net/2007/HTML/The%20Teeth..htm . (Don't overlook the two dots before htm.)
I imagined she would make her usual rush with arms outstretched, calling out so the others would hear, 'Papa, Papa, you come!" and I would watch for her new smile without the embarrassed hand-over-mouth that had always been there in the past. I would kneel in the sand so we were head to head and we would hug one another and she would give me a gleaming, beaming, toothy smile.
Later we would be a bit separated from the others who would be quickly involved in their various trades and stories of friends. We would manage to sit side by side on the concrete steps, or wander a little way down the sand and sit down in peace. She would have met our family and now it would be my turn to ask about hers. She would tell all of the things that she wanted me to know except one, because she knew that there was one question I would ask when there was a pause.
- - - ‘and how is Ni Wayan doing at school?'
Then she would gush because Ni Wayan, her daughter's, schooling was important to her, she who could not read or write unless it was to do with the name of somewhere she was going or something she had to buy (although she was adept at figures when it came to adding up the cost of a few of her bead creations), and so Ni Wayan's schooling had become more important to me than might otherwise have been the case.
As I felt that she was winding down I would take out the two fifties I had previously put in my shirt pocket and put them into one of her hands with the other firmly on top. ‘This is to help with Ni Wayan's schooling', I would say, ‘Only for schooling because it is most important for her and later it will be most important for you.' She would have the briefest of looks into her hands as they would disappear like magic into the folds of her circus-tent of a jumper, to re-emerge quite empty, and anyone watching might not have seen a thing.
It was a ritual that we had, like secret lovers at a tryst, which gave us both pleasure.
Alas, none of this was to be.
Reality was unexpectedly and, for me, frighteningly different.