Roachville

Pink light sneaked its way under the curtain, tickled my nose and woke me up. Lying on the futon, I reran the creepy encounter with Kenneth Tann in Hotel Blue, meeting Mei and Mulalloo, the emptying of the house contents by Mac, reading the letter in the cemetery and finally the night with Ely. My right hand, which was tucked under my neck, glided down underneath the purple blanket, down my belly and between my legs, but the sudden thought of the naga stopped me in my tracks. I looked towards the wooden statue and words popped out of my mouth.

‘So today, I will give you back to Phuong,’ I said. ‘I mean, why should I keep you after all?’ I paused, waiting for some sort of response. The words kept tumbling out. ‘You know, I feel a bit like a pawn, a mere instrument, a passive facilitator...’ I added. ‘But I’m not keeping you... na-ha... Okay, I admit it, thanks to you I’ve met Ely, but apart from that, what good have you been to me? Nope, I don’t want any more part in this and once I return you to Mei and Phuong, there’s no reason why Kenneth Tann should keep bothering me. It’s got to be the only way... Phuong, Mei and Mulalloo said I should go with the flow and right now the flow tells me to give you back; the flow isn’t giving me any other messages.’

I logged on to Linguists-go-go and created the account with the username and password that Mei had given me. Waiting for it to register and not glancing towards the naga, I put a Sigur Ros album on. The music would help me remain calm. In the terminology help section, I found a question from dg72. The term was ‘Disengagement clutch valve’ and the description Mei had entered was ‘Short circuit to ground at output stage to large disengagement clutch valve’. It had been posted during the night.

‘Pretty obscure question if you ask me,’ I told the silent naga. I typed a very literal answer with which some pedantic translators would love to disagree and argue about. Let them, I thought with a magnanimous click of the mouse.

Now I just had to wait for some Aboriginal twin to come and ring at my door. As you do. This became my catchphrase for the morning: ‘As you do – As you do’. I jogged down to the kitchen, made tea and ended back in the middle of the futon, which was turning into my island and my rock. I sat in the lotus position, without getting even close to emptying my mind. I listened to the strange beautiful music. It sounded as if it was coming from a whale’s stomach. I imagined the musicians in a huge dark belly, notes from their instruments reverberating against gigantic ribs.

Four hours later nobody had come to collect the precious naga. I had made myself many green teas balanced by milky sweet coffees. I had prepared a delicious lunch consisting of instant noodles and not much else. I had also finished a box of cookies and eaten a lone apple.

Inspired by the discovery that my spotted teapot had been saved from my ex-boyfriend pillaging, I dressed in a white shirt with green dots and, despite the warmth of the midday air, an old pair of jeans that fit like a glove. I had resisted the urge to text Ely, because I didn’t want him to think I was a needy nerd, but I had promptly revised my decision and after much agonising had sent him the following message: ‘Hi, would be cool to see you again. Let me know when you’re free’. I had checked my account on line; some agencies had paid me, so I was okay for now on the financial front. I turned down a couple of minor jobs because my head was spinning from the events of the last few days. I brushed my teeth and my hair. I painted my nails in a pretty anthracite colour. Lying on my futon, I listened to electro music and stared at the beautiful naga. I read and read and read. I kept thoughts of atoms and the universe at bay and I devised a plan not to have any scary nightmares. Just in case.

But now I had run out of things I wanted to do, so after checking the Linguists-go-go website again and verifying that there were no new questions from Mei’s username, I lay in the middle of the futon wondering why nobody was coming to pick the naga. Before I knew it, I was daydreaming about sex with Ely, my thoughts weaving themselves along a hypnotic rhythm, like waves hitting a long sandy beach on the beautiful Atlantic coast.