In This Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

offering him my hand at the same time.
    “Let’s not talk about way too much sex, Miss Liberated Woman.”
    It was time to change the subject. “Let’s go order our food. I really need something to help get me out of this bubble.”

 
     
     
    WE SPENT A couple of hours with the group, slurping Thai noodles and drinking warm tea in one of the boat noodle shops, along the streets of Ban Nam Khem. Thoughts of my mother still lingered in my head, anger and disappointment now somehow replaced with the desire to have her back in my life. I told myself that I would figure it out by the time I returned to see her.
    I glanced around more than once, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jude. These were uncharted waters for me, the thrill of something new and spontaneous—a far cry from the discipline that ruled my life for the past four years. There had been no time for relationships, and friendships were cast aside in favor of my studies. The struggle to keep up with the demands of a frenetic schedule was part and parcel of my life. Still, I looked forward to seven more years of school, determined to change people’s lives, close the gap between human disparities, and discover a cure for the ailments of the world.
    Dante was busy picking pieces of chicken from my plate. The sweeping motion of the chopsticks between his fingers was hypnotizing. Plate, dipping sauce, Dante’s mouth. Plate, Dante’s mouth. Tap, swoosh, crunch. There I was, thinking about him again. I’d never seen dark eyes surrounded by so much color. Last night at the beach, they shone like they were blue. Today at the school, they were outlined in grey. Sectoral heterochromia. Different colors of the iris, hereditary.
    “Spark, Delmar just asked you a question.” Dante brushed his hand against mine to bring me back to earth. “And did you hear what I said about Maggie?” My beautiful friend, second in my small inner circle of two.
    “Huh? What? Sorry,” I said while spooning noodles into my mouth. I was just comparing him to Jonathan Rhys Meyers in my head. Or Ian Somerhalder. No, it was that model. The Spanish one. He looked just like that dark-haired Spanish guy. Why couldn’t I think of his name?
    “Maggie,” Dante stressed. “She left me a message, asking what happened to your phone. She’s been trying to call to check in from Rome. Something about her fifth date with some guy named Donato and that she’ll see you in a few weeks.”
    “Oh.”
    “And me, I asked whether you were coming to the beach with us tonight,” the determined French guy interjected. Aha. There it was. My welcome diversion for the rest of the evening.
    “Oh, yeah, sure,” I answered.
    The sun had gone to sleep by the time we were once again scattered around the sand, listening to loud hip-hop music, drinking, smoking a joint, and dancing around the fire. There was no place on earth more beautiful than this. The yellow sand glowed under the deep dark sky, and the sound of the waves crashing subdued us all into indifference. What we’d seen and witnessed in the past few days taught us so much about life, and bonded us together. The frailty of the human body, the resilience of the spirit. The abundance of hope or the lack of it, the ugliness of destruction and the randomness of circumstance. Just as expected, we began to couple up, Dante and Paulina, the English guy and Milena, and me and Delmar. This was the perfect set-up—a two-week trip, a two-week guy, no strings attached. I was ready to just go with the flow.
    “ Mon dieu ! You are so beautiful, American girl,” Delmar whispered into my neck as he pulled me closer. The art of seduction with this guy was just that. An art. He was smooth, his voice decadent like strawberries dipped in Debauve chocolate. His eyes never left yours, they seduced you into thinking you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. And his hands—oh, his hands—they emitted some sort of heat that left you wanting more. Never