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Back No Going Back: a Novel Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. Part 2
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. Part 3
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. Part 4
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. Part 5
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. Part 6
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. Acknowledgments
  82. About the Author
  83. Also by Sheena Kamal
  84. About the Publisher

He laughs, settles on top of me, and pulls my legs up. Hooks them around his waist. “I know I am.”

Then we stop talking. Thankfully. He brings that easiness about him I was admiring from the window here, too. It’s so easy between us, this. Easier than it should be.

“I wanted to walk away so badly,” he says much later. “When Lam showed up at the office, I wanted no part of this, whatever it is.”

“I know.”

“So why can’t I?”

He doesn’t expect an answer. Doesn’t get one, either.

“I almost had a drink today. Before the beer just now,” I say, thinking of that godawful heat cut only by the ocean breeze. What could one fruity cocktail hurt? Unless, of course, it becomes two, then four, then a couple of vodka shots after that.

“Me, too.”

It takes me a minute to work up to what I say next. “When I heard we were waiting for someone on that plane, right before we left Vancouver, I hoped it was you.”

“I don’t trust Lam. That’s why I came here.”

“Neither do I.”

There are no blues songs in the aftermath; there is only the sweet silence of the night broken intermittently by the sound of our breathing. One of us is lightly snoring, but I can’t figure out who it is before I fall asleep.

39

Early yesterday morning, just as dawn broke, I put on a black one-piece bathing suit I bought at the hotel gift store, charged to Lam’s room, went down to the beach, and waded chest deep into the ocean. Then began to swim. I didn’t stop for a long, long time. I swam until my limbs got so heavy I almost didn’t make it back onto the sand. When I did, I lay flat on my back, taking in big gulps of air. One of the resort waiters offered me a fresh coconut out of sheer pity.

This ocean is different from what I’m used to. It’s either the Bali Sea or the Lombok Strait, but I can’t remember which. It should be similar to the views I’ve seen from Vancouver. Sand. Ocean. Mountains. Fishing boats. But there’s nothing familiar about this. The water is warm and clear. The boats are painted canoes with brightly colored wooden legs creeping out from the center, like cheerful spiders that sit atop the sea. Even the mountains look different. Lush and inviting in the blinding sunlight.

Like something out of a picture book.