Strange how when he drifted off the air, so did his sleeping companions. All else was lost. He gathered himself up in the storm reaches, water swirling down a drain. He didn't know what situation he had got himself into. He didn't expect them to be anything other than devious. Consternation was at its height; but also a strange fog as he landed back where he had been only two months before; recycling hope, handsome boys, the gift of a smile. The flags still fluttered in the heat. The rickshaw drivers clustered outside the hotel. The begging families, a pregnant woman and her children camped on the pavement all day. The convergence of the Mekong and Tom Lesap Rivers. An ancient creek bed. A time far beyond anything he knew. Wasted moments and wasted days. Cruel discord. Laughter at its most manic. Head buried under the pillows. What have I done? Does love die as fast as it is born? Do moments of intimacy betray us at the heart? Did a lonely old man stumble into keeping a boy almost by accident? Was it a simple desire not to sleep alone. After they had come in the cheap hotel, they lay next to each other, arms draped across each other; and that in a way was the best of it; the one moment of affection they were allowed in the day.
He had become used to the routine now. They met at four, when the handsome young waiter finished work, and he would wait in the cafe for him while the young man had a shower. It was obvious to all. Time stood across many a mountain, and he wasn't himself, not yet, not now. Caught in betwixt and between. So much had happened; alone in those two months when he was never alone; didn't like to sleep by himself and everything came crashing down, caught in so much ceremony, blessed by tiny ritual, forsaken at dawn. Just an old man on a balcony. He couldn't remember why he was here. The time machine was malfunctioning. Motive was out the window. The flags of many nations flapped in the wind, the boats plied the channels further out in the river, and now and then even a tourist boat joined the melee. You're creating an artificial crisis. They knew he wasn't with them. They made excuses. He's a little sleepy, the cousins said. It was a nice way of saying he wasn't all there, not committed, not part of this world. You'll come calling one day, that's for sure. He ran his hands down a flat belly, assured of success.
There was a certain shame in having been so vacant for so many days. But then Cambodia was always an interlude to the main game. He sat and talked to the lawyer in the 12-room mansion. The cook prepared them porridge. They talked of contracts and of scripts; and laughed in acknowledgement because only they knew how truly effed up was the financial situation. It kept on bearing truth. They kept on sighing and waking up, stretching, a physical smell. Was it his fault he couldn't love? Were the boys, three decades younger than him at the least, beginning to wear thin? Was it here in the reaches that he contemplated ending a perfect life; a way of life, the pool on the roof, the attentive staff at the apartment block, the alert security guards? He was so out of phase it made little difference. Only he knew the end could be just around the corner, a simple twist of fate, a couple of weeks off into a crazy world; and that would be it. I can no longer support you, he said warily. He watched as the summer came along, as the rainy season passed. He heard every story and stuck loyally to the story: I love you. Same Same. Brief exchanges. But he didn't know where the answer lay. He said goodbye to the handsome young man in Pnom Penh, and rejoined another in Bangkok. It was a long way from sleeping alone in Redfern. Today he passed from one country to the next. Today one story was sacrificed for another, muffled seclusion, a distant space, and when they swirled together and he ran his hands across that perfect body, all else was lost. He didn't care what the level of fraud was. Love was a practical thing. You take care of me and I will take care of you. A simple exchange. They smiled in their cracked and phoney hearts. They were compromised at the deepest levels. He was glad to see him again, smiling as he lounged in the armchair on the balcony, as he looked out across the currents of the conjoining rivers.
THE BIGGER STORY:
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1301214/Pakistan-fury-presidents-playboy-son-using-floods.html#ixzz0vyK5vW00
The playboy son of Pakistan’s president yesterday faced damaging claims that he was exploiting his country’s devastating floods to boost his political career.
Oxford graduate Bilawal Zardari, 21, angrily described as a ‘lie’ the accusation that the five-day visit to the UK by his father, Asif Zardari, was a springboard for his own ambitions.
Bilawal’s outburst, made as he launched an appeal for flood aid, is the latest controversy to overshadow a visit already hit by a diplomatic row over Islamabad’s alleged links to terrorism and growing outrage at the President’s absence during one of the country’s worst-ever disasters.
More than 1,500 people have died and 13 million have been affected, with more rain expected.
Bilawal’s mother was the former Pakistan Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, who was assassinated at a political rally soon after her return from exile in 2007.
Bilawal became co-chairman of the Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP), now the ruling party, which has always been led by a Bhutto or Zardari.
However, Bilawal is yet to take an active part in politics. He was expected to accept sole party chairmanship when he joined his father at a rally of British Pakistanis in Birmingham yesterday, but it is thought the plan was aborted at the last minute as advisers realised it could fan anger back home.
Asked if he was using his father’s visit to launch his career, Bilawal said: ‘This is not the time to play politics. We need to do whatever is necessary to help our brothers and sisters in Pakistan.’
He then denied he ever intended to appear at the rally, shouting: ‘That’s a lie.’
http://www.canberratimes.com.au/news/national/national/general/latham-rudd-overshadow-gillard/1907246.aspx
PRIME MINISTER Julia Gillard's predecessors continue to overshadow her campaign, after she was confronted by Mark Latham and sat down with Kevin Rudd for the first time since dumping him as leader.
Opposition Leader Tony Abbott played down concerns the Labor ''soap opera'' threatens to overshadow the Coalition's official campaign launch in Brisbane today, when he will announce tougher penalties including mandatory jail sentences for people smugglers.
It comes as the latest Nielsen-Fairfax poll shows the Coalition remains ahead of Labor. Its two-party preferred lead has dropped from 52-48 a week ago, to 51-49, thanks to a 1-point shift from the Coalition to the Greens.
Mr Latham, who is working for the Nine Network's 60 Minutes program, confronted Ms Gillard at Brisbane's Ekka show yesterday, demanding to know why Labor had complained about his presence.
Ms Gillard tried to laugh off the confrontation, but Mr Latham told her if she wanted to make complaints, she ought to ''have a dig'' at Mr Rudd, who was trying to sabotage her campaign.
Earlier, only a cameraman and photographer were allowed into the first meeting between Ms Gillard and Mr Rudd since she deposed him, and that too for only about one minute.
Footage showed the two, accompanied by Labor officials, never making eye contact while looking at a map of Queensland.
Bangkok. Picture: Peter Newman.
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