“That’s why you’re so straitlaced. Would have picked you for the rich boy, and Jason for the rough childhood.”
“I didn’t say I had a rough childhood.”
“Did you?”
“A bit, yeah.” I’m being vague. I don’t want to go into my past right now. I want to learn about her.
“And what’s Jason’s deal? Black sheep, cast out of the family?”
“Close,” I say. “But he can tell you his life story himself.”
“Uh huh. I don’t think he’s the life story type. I don’t think you are either,” she says with a smart little smile on her lips, like she knows exactly what I am doing, fishing for information.
Out in the water, another unfortunate fish takes the bait. The float sinks, the reel unspools, and the drama unfolds once more with the same inevitable conclusion. In minutes, another trout dangles on her line. We’re ready for breakfast.
7
Aslin
Days go by, and I find myself increasingly on edge. It is not easy being out here. The environment is rough, and there’s a lot of it. The fishing is good but avoiding Soren’s increasing questions about my life and past is starting to take a toll.
It turns out that they’re really serious about this no alcohol thing. I said I was fine, but I’m not fine. My mouth is dry, my head is pounding, and I’m starting to feel a little on edge too. Maybe I do have a drinking problem. Or maybe the hangover you get when you’ve been drinking since Kathmandu is not one you should let catch up with you.
Fortunately, my personal stash is not the only option. I remember the trail they tried to make me take to go up the hill. I also remember the turn off, and where that turn off goes. There’s a village nearby, and I guarantee they’ve got something to drink.
So I sneak off one evening, right as Soren is getting water from the river, and Jason is trying to kill something with feet to break the constant stream of fish and rice we’ve been consuming of late. They’ve started to trust me, and I know this is going to put all that back to square one, but I’m okay with that. I don’t owe them anything. It’s my vacation. I’m the client. They should be grateful for the break.
I’ve prepared lightly, with a jacket, some US dollars and the sort of gumption you only get when you really want a drink. As I hustle out of camp, I look back over my shoulder every few seconds, but once I’ve gotten several hundred feet away, it occurs to me I’m going to get away with this.
The trail really isn’t actually that bad. I might have been a bit dramatic when I refused to go up it. Sort of looks like it might be a nice wander. Anyway, that doesn’t matter because I’m hanging a left to the local village.
The trees thin after a time, leaving me on the exposed lower slopes of what I can only describe as a fucking mountain. The track is narrow, more like a goat path than a real road. I guess the villagers don’t use this route much. They must have another way down to the river.
It’s a longer trek than I thought. It goes on, and on, and on, getting rockier and craggier, and as luck would have it, darker. I feel as though I can see some buildings in the distance, square shapes standing proud against the dying light, so I keep going. I am going to be hungry when I finally get there. I am guessing Tahr curry will be on the menu, given the prominence of the horned creatures stalking the heights above me.
This place is wild and untamed. It’s remote, and I feel a certain thrill at being out here alone. This is what I need. Solitude. The kind of aloneness that reminds me who I am, and why I came here. I am a raft of secrets and misleads, half-truths and lies. Keeping my shit together with Jason and Soren is difficult, especially with the way Soren seems so very interested in getting under my skin. He wants more than I can give him. Though the wind is blowing increasingly cold across the mountains, and I am starting to wonder if I dressed for the conditions, I’m starting to think it’s not a drink I needed. It was just some time alone.
Soren
“Where the fuck is Aslin?” Jason asks the question, annoyed. We left her to wash the rice and put it over the fire, but she seems to have taken the opportunity to disappear instead. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but nothing she does surprises me now. I check the riverbank. That’s usually where she is. She’s not there, and the light is starting to fade.
“Do you think she went for a walk?”