'You know how many trips up and down the ladder it takes to fill the tank for the toilet? Then there's the plastic buckets in the dining room and kitchen. It would take all day.'

'We won't be here that long. The tanks are full now, aren't they?'

'Yeah. 'We have everything now—water, kerosene, Coca-Cola. Apolon even brought a piece of ice for the ice box.'

'There you are. We have everything.'

We also had drugs. Neal had the smack. Neal always has smack. Both of us had a stash of coke. Since the air was humid I decided to put mine in the safe behind the painting. After dropping crystals into the powder to absorb moisture, I unlocked the safe. Stored in its cool depths were eleven tolas (one  tola = ten grams) of opium; six tabs of acid; a gram of morphine bought from Paradise Pharmacy in Mapusa sold legally over-the-counter), which I found unusable doe to its disgusting taste (besides, only junkies used morphine); and a kilo of bad border hash that, not knowing any better. I'd stupidly bought to offer guests. It was comforting to survey the cellophane mountain of my hoard. I placed the coke on its summit. Next, I checked the pill cabinet. I had thirty-four packets of Valium (ten to a packet), seven packets of Mandrax, three bottles of Dexedrine, and a year's worth of birth-control pills.

I had had my period in months. How many? Four, five? Could I be pregnant? Never. Me? I hated kids. I looked at my skinny reflection in the mirror. Impossible. I should probably stop taking the pill.

I went back to the living room to join Neal and the mirror piled with coke. CLICK, CLICK, SCRAPE, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.

Our first week in the monsoon blended into one coked-out weird day. We hardly noticed the echo of the rain sealing us in. The dimness of the cloudy daylight blended with the dimness of the kerosene night light. The long day stretched itself into a week. Then the coke was nearly finished.

'I'm going to Bombay,' said Neal. 'We should find out if there's news from your aunt. I'll pick up coke from Sukalatchi Street while I’m there.'

'Check Joe Banana's first. Maybe Aunt Sathe sent a telegram here.'

No mail at Joe's. Neal left for Bombay. That night, there was a knock on the front door. I was surprised. I hadn't thought there was anyone left on the beach to come visiting. Apolon and his family used the kitchen door.

I couldn't believe the pretty face I found on the doorstep. 'Hello, Miss Cleo.'

'Serge!' I leaped on him, knocking him off the step. He wrapped his arms around me.

'It feels so good to hold you again,' he said. 'I missed you.' We kissed on the damp sand under the dark sky.

'Where have you been? You just disappeared,' I asked and kissed him again. 'I'm so happy to see you!'

We went inside and sat under the platform holding each other.

'I had to do business. Make money.'

'What are you doing back here in the monsoon?'

'Why, I came to see you, of course. Had to see Miss Cleo. But I was afraid you'd be gone and that I wouldn't find you till next season.' We kissed some more. 'Why are you still here?'

I sunk my forehead into my palm and groaned. 'OOOOOhhhh. Nothing worked right. I invested money with Tish and Junky Robert but haven't heard from them. Then I sent a girl to Bermuda and she disappeared. I don't know what happened to that scam. Neal just left for Bombay to see if there's a telegram.'

'Are you and Neal together, then?'

'NO! That's finished, really. I can't bear him anymore. I want to be with you. You're the one I love.' I kissed his cheek, his neck, his ear.

'Does Neal know this? Or does he think you're still together?'

'Well, I don't know . . . Yeah, I guess he thinks we're together. I've told him it's over, but I don't think he believes me.'

'You missed him again.'

'When he returns. You'll stay, right? You're not going to leave, are you?'

'I've come thousands of miles to see you, Miss Cleo. I’m not leaving you now. You'll tell him, though? I love Neal. He's my friend. I don't want to create a problem.'

'I'll tell him. He knows already. Besides, you'll be here with me.'

'Look how skinny you are! Even skinnier than before. You must eat. When was the last time you had a meal?'

'I ate a candy bar yesterday.'

'A candy bar! That's not food. I make you something. What do you want?'

'I'm not hungry.'

'You must eat something. What will you have? A cheese omelette?'

'Ooo, yum! Cheese omelette!'

As usual, I couldn't eat more than a bite of the huge thing he cooked. 'I can't eat another mouthful. I explode.'

'You hardly touched it. Come on, I made it just for you.'

'No, no. Stop. Take it away. Later. Maybe I finish it later. Let my stomach recover a while from the shook of nutrients.'

The next morning, Neal returned.

NO.

Not yet!

Full of energy, he burst into the house like a tornado of good cheer. 'Hi, cutie. I'm back!' He giggled, dumped his bag on a cushion, and shook his wet bangs. His clothes dripped water into a Pool at his feet. 'Hi, Serge.' He turned back to me. 'It's really raining out there. You should see it.'

'That was quick. I didn't think you'd be back so soon.'

He giggled. 'Well, you see, I never made it to Bombay. The airport's closed for the monsoon. I spent the night in Panjim thinking I could board a boat, but the boats aren't running either. We're marooned here. I had no idea it was like this during the monsoon. It's unearthly. Like being stranded on another planet.'

'The buses are running,' said Serge. 'I got off one yesterday.'

'You did?' Neal giggled again. 'I can't imagine why anyone would WANT to be here at this time. I know why we're here. I thought you had more sense.'

'I've spent many monsoons here—in Colva,' said Serge. 'Until year, I stayed in Goa three years without leaving. I like it in the rainy season. It's peaceful and quiet.'

'Serge, old boy! Can you sell us coke? Or don't you have any left?'

'How much would you want?'

'Looks like we might be here a while. What do you think?' he asked me.

'Looks like we’ll be here forever. We need half a ton.'

'Maybe a few ounces. Could you handle a few ounces?' Neal asked Serge.

'I don't know . . . I need to keep some for myself. One ounce for sure, maybe two. I see how much I have.'

Why did Neal have to come back? Everything seemed to be moving too fast. In an instant, Neal stepped back into place and Serge assumed visitor status. Serge physically withdrew from me under the influence of Neal's presence. Wait a minute, wait a minute. This was not how I wanted it. I wanted to be with Serge, not Neal. What happened?

I became annoyed. Why had Serge retreated to the other side of the room like that? He was supposed to be over here with me. I felt isolated, left by myself to handle the situation.

Neal sped around the room as if nothing had changed. Frustrated and confused, I grasped the half-eaten cheese omelette that had been lying there since the day before and threw it in Serge's face.

Neal giggled. Serge's hurt look told me he didn't understand. Well, good. I didn't understand, either. I stormed out of the room, leaving him to pick up the pieces of dried egg that had flown all over.

I paced the carpet in the bathroom, opening cabinets and drawers, touching things, looking in the mirror. I changed my dress for one I picked up from the floor. Since the maid stopped coming in, things continued to he wherever they'd been discarded.