Chapter 34 Indonesian Stories (33)

We use this sand map to tell each other about our favorite spots in New York.That's where the sunglasses Yudhi is wearing now; the sandals I'm wearing right now.This is where my ex-husband and I had our first dinner; this is where Yudhi and his wife met.It's the best Vietnamese restaurant in town, it's the best bagel shop, it's the best noodle shop ("It's okay, dead glass—this is the best noodle shop.") I draw myself In the "Hell's Kitchen" (Hell's Kitchen) area where he used to live, Yudhi said: "I know there is a good restaurant there! "

"Tick-Tock, Cheyenne, or Starlight?" I asked. "Tacker, boy." "Ever tried egg honey milk?" He lamented, "Oh my God, I know..." I felt his nostalgia for New York so deeply that for a moment I mistook it for my own.His nostalgia completely infected me, and I suddenly forgot that I could actually go back to Manhattan someday in the future, but he couldn't.He played with the two branches of the Twin Towers to make them more firmly fixed on the sand, then looked out at the calm blue sea, and said, "I know it's beautiful here...but do you think I'll ever see America again?"

what can I say. We fell silent.Then he spat out the nasty Indonesian hard candy he had been having for an hour in his mouth and said, "Man, this candy tastes disgusting. Where did you get it?" "From your mother, boy," I said, "from your mother." When we got back to Ubud, I went straight to Felipe's house and didn't leave his bedroom for about a month.This is not an exaggeration at all.Never before have I been attached to and admired with such joyful concentration by anyone.I've never been eaten so raw during sex. One of the things I've learned about intimacy is that there are certain natural laws that govern two people's sexual experience, and those laws are as nonnegotiable as gravity.Whether or not you feel physically comfortable with another person's body is not a decision you can make, and has nothing to do with how two people think, behave, talk, or even look.Mysterious attraction is either buried deep behind the breastbone, or nonexistent.And if it doesn't exist (as I've had painfully definite experience in the past), you can't force it any more than a surgeon can force a patient's body to accept an inappropriate kidney donation.My friend Annie says it all comes down to one simple question: "Do you want your belly to be attached to another person's belly forever?"

Felipe and I were delighted to discover that we were a perfectly coordinated, genetically engineered belly to belly.There is no danger, difficulty, or rejection of any part of our body to any part of the other's body.Our sensory worlds - simply but thoroughly - complement each other.And... be appreciated. "Look at you." After we made love again, Felipe took me to the mirror and showed me my naked body and hair as if I had just stepped out of a NASA space training centrifuge.He said, "Look at how beautiful you are...every curve of yours...like sand dunes..." (In fact, I don’t think my body has ever looked or felt so relaxed in my life. Not since my mother snapped a happy picture of me wrapped in a towel on my dresser after a shower at the kitchen sink at six months old , have never been.)

Then he took me back to bed and said in Portuguese: "Vem, gostosa." Come, my dear. Felipe was also a master of pampering.He unknowingly adores me in Portuguese in bed, so I've been promoted from his "cute little darling" to "his queridinha" (literal translation: "cute little darling").I was lazy when I came to Bali and didn't want to learn Indonesian or Balinese, and suddenly I picked up Portuguese with ease.Of course, I only learned pillow talk, but it is easy to use Portuguese.He said, "Honey, you're going to get tired. You're going to get tired of my touching, how many times a day I tell you how beautiful you are."

Test me, sir. I lose time here, I disappear under his sheets, under his hands.I like the feeling of not knowing the age.My rigid schedule has been blown away by the wind.Finally, after a long time, I went to visit my pharmacist one afternoon.Lord Lai saw the truth in my face before I spoke. "You found a boyfriend in Bali," he said. "Yes, sir." "Fine, be careful not to get pregnant." "I will." "He is a nice person?" "You tell me, Lord," I said, "you read his palm. You assured him he was a good man. About seven times."