Together they all loaded the car, shaking. Once again, the house was left to ghosts. As they drove, the mobile phone rang over and over inside the trunk.
The new Hilton (which does not exist) rose up by the river across from the Department for Cults and Religious Affairs. Tall and marbled and pristine, it had crystal chandeliers and fountains, and wood and brass handles in the elevators.
In the middle of the night only the Bridal Suite was still available, but it had an extra parental chamber where the driver and his wife could sleep. High on the twenty-first floor, the night sparkled with lights and everything was hushed, as far away from Cambodia as it was possible to get.
Things were quiet after that, for a while.
Every day she and Dara went to movies, or went to a restaurant. They went shopping. She slipped him money and he bought himself a beautiful suit. He said, over a hamburger at Lucky7, “I've told my mother that I've met a girl."
Sith smiled and thought: and I bet you told her that I'm rich.
"I've decided to live in the Hilton,” she told him.
Maybe we could live in the Hilton. A pretty smile could hint at that.
The rainy season ended. The last of the monsoons rose up dark gray with a froth of white cloud on top, looking exactly like a giant wave about to break.
Dry cooler air arrived.
After work was over Dara convinced her to go for a walk along the river in front of the Royal Palace. He went to the men's room to change into a new luxury suit and Sith thought: he's beginning to imagine life with all that money.
As they walked along the river, exposed to all those people, Sith shook inside. There were teenage boys everywhere. Some of them were in rags, which was reassuring, but some of them were very well dressed indeed, the sons of Impunity who could do anything. Sith swerved suddenly to avoid even seeing them. But Dara in his new beige suit looked like one of them, and the generals’ sons nodded to him with quizzical eyebrows, perhaps wondering who he was.
In front of the palace, a pavilion reached out over the water. Next to it a traditional orchestra bashed and wailed out something old fashioned. Hundreds of people crowded around a tiny wat. Dara shook Sith's wrist and they stood up to see.
People held up bundles of lotus flowers and incense in prayer. They threw the bundles into the wat. Monks immediately shoveled the joss sticks and flowers out of the back.
Behind the wat, children wearing T-shirts and shorts black with filth rootled through the dead flowers, the smoldering incense, and old coconut shells.
Sith asked, “Why do they do that?"
"You are so innocent!” chuckled Dara and shook his head. The evening was blue and gold. Sith had time to think that she did not want to go back to a hotel and that the only place she really felt happy was next to Dara. All around that thought was something dark and tangled.
Dara suggested with affection that they should get married.
It was as if Sith had her answer ready. “No, absolutely not,” she said at once. “How can you ask that? There is not even anyone for you to ask! Have you spoken to your family about me? Has your family made any checks about my background?"
Which was what she really wanted to know.
Dara shook his head. “I have explained that you are an orphan, but they are not concerned with that. We are modest people. They will be happy if I am happy."
"Of course they won't be! Of course they will need to do checks."
Sith scowled. She saw her way to sudden advantage. “At least they must consult fortunetellers. They are not fools. I can help them. Ask them the names of the fortunetellers they trust."
Dara smiled shyly. “We have no money."
"I will give them money and you can tell them that you pay."
Dara's eyes searched her face. “I don't want that."
"How will we know if it is a good marriage? And your poor mother, how can you ask her to make a decision like this without information? So. You ask your family for the names of good professionals they trust, and I will pay them, and I will go to Prime Minister Hun Sen's own personal fortuneteller, and we can compare results."
Thus she established again both her propriety and her status.
In an old romance, the parents would not approve of the match and the fortuneteller would say that the marriage was ill-omened. Sith left nothing to romance.
She offered the family's fortunetellers whatever they wanted-a car, a farm-and in return demanded a written copy of their judgment. All of them agreed that the portents for the marriage were especially auspicious.
Then she secured an appointment with the Prime Minister's fortuneteller.
Hun Sen's Kru Taey was a lady in a black business suit. She had long fingernails like talons, but they were perfectly manicured and frosted white.
She was the kind of fortuneteller who is possessed by someone else's spirit. She sat at a desk and looked at Sith as unblinking as a fish, both her hands steepled together. After the most basic of hellos, she said. “Dollars only. Twenty-five thousand. I need to buy my son an apartment."
"That's a very high fee,” said Sith.
"It's not a fee. It is a consideration for giving you the answer you want. My fee is another twenty-five thousand dollars."
They negotiated. Sith liked the Kru Taey's manner. It confirmed everything Sith believed about life.
The fee was reduced somewhat but not the consideration.
"Payment upfront now,” the Kru Taey said. She wouldn't take a check. Like only the very best restaurants she accepted foreign credit cards. Sith's Swiss card worked immediately. It had unlimited credit in case she had to leave the country in a hurry.
The Kru Taey said, “I will tell the boy's family that the marriage will be particularly fortunate."
Sith realized that she had not yet said anything about a boy, his family, or a marriage.
The Kru Taey smiled. “I know you are not interested in your real fortune. But to be kind, I will tell you unpaid that this marriage really is particularly well favored. All the other fortunetellers would have said the same thing without being bribed."
The Kru Taey's eyes glinted in the most unpleasant way. “So you needn't have bought them farms or paid me an extra twenty-five thousand dollars."
She looked down at her perfect fingernails. “You will be very happy indeed. But not before your entire life is overturned."
The back of Sith's arms prickled as if from cold. She should have been angry but she could feel herself smiling. Why?
And why waste politeness on the old witch? Sith turned to go without saying good-bye.
"Oh, and about your other problem,” said the woman.
Sith turned back and waited.
"Enemies,” said the Kru Taey, “can turn out to be friends."
Sith sighed. “What are you talking about?"