He wasn't coming back. I lunged at a pack of his beedies lying on the carpet. One left. But he wasn't coming back for it. I knew he wasn't coming back.

How could he?

I was stunned. Was he crazy? Love me! How could he think that? I reread the note, but its words hadn't changed. He was gone.

I roamed the room. There were my red Chinese pants he used to wear, discarded on a cushion. I stabbed at them with my toe. How could he leave me?

If I'm wrong, you know where to find me, the note said. Where? I had no idea. Teheran? We'd discussed travelling there to visit Sima and Bernard. But he knew I considered Iran the toilet of the world. Passing through it on the overland bus to India, it had been the only country where I'd had trouble travelling as a lone female. Fuck him. I wouldn't even consider tracking him down. Iran might be great if you could rid it of Iranian men; until then, it wasn't the place to bunt for a runaway boyfriend. No. Fuck him. Love Neal?

When Neal came down a little later, I tore into him like a wild woman. It took him time to figure out what had happened. He found it quite funny.

'IT’S NOT FUNNY. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT I HATE YOU. GET OUT OUT OUT.' I pounded on him with my hands and feet and words. I couldn't bear to look at him. It was because of him that Serge had left, I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN.'

Before he could think of a way to handle the situation, he was in the rain with his clothes and knickknacks scattered all over.

'Wait a min . . .'

I slammed the door with such force, the Goan across the way came to her window. What were the crazy foreigners up to now?

I could hear Neal's laughing voice. I moved back and covered my ears to make it go away. It still came through the door.

'What are you going to do alone here?' he asked.

'JUST GO AWAY.'

'Will you come meet me in Bombay?'

'GO.'

'Okay. I’m going. But I have to send for a taxi to take me to the bus station. Let leave my bags inside till I get a taxi.'

'NO. I DON’T TRUST YOU. I’LL NEVER LET YOU BACK IN.'

'It won't be fun here by yourself. I wait for you in Bombay. Do you have money?'

I ran to the back of the house to escape his voice. It was dark. I ran through the dining room and the kitchen and hid in the bathroom. I curled myself into a ball on the rug and pulled some of the clothes lying nearby over my hand.

I stayed like that a long time. When I grew bored, I sat up and listened. I couldn't hear anything that sounded like Neal slinking around the house. But there was a lot of noise. What was that tack? The surf. Waves slamming against the beach. Hey! I could feel the house shake from the force of them. I could hear the thwack of rain hitting the roof and outer Walls. Water streamed down the window. I could hear that too. It was the quiet of the house. . . The house was now silent—an empty, dead silence. The floor jolted from another Herculean wave. Now it was just me and the monsoon.

I rose and tiptoed to the living room. Nothing moved. I went to the front door and leaned my cheek against the wood. No sound of Neal. He was gone.

Good riddance. Who needed them? I was better off by myself. I was always better off by myself. Idiots. Fucking idiots. I climbed on the platform and made myself a fat line of coke. Fuck them both.

It was late afternoon when I heard Neal at the door.

'Go away,'

'I'm leaving,' he shouted back. 'I have a taxi waiting on the other side of the paddy. Want to come with me?'

'NO!'

'What will you do here alone without money?'

'Don't worry about me. Just go away.'

'Well, I'm going to change money in Mapusa. I send some back to you with the Goan driver. He can take you to the bus station if you change your mind about staying here. I be at the Ritz Hotel in Bombay. Please come. I be waiting for you.'

'I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN.'

I moved farther into the house to get away from his words, but he said no more. Now he was really gone.

As the room darkened with the onset of night, I took stock of the situation. The loud monsoon noises made the house unbearably quiet. I was bored already. I checked the kerosene. Only one lamp had any left. Its weak slosh when I shook it told me it wouldn't last the night. I had dim flashlight tired batteries would also not survive till morning, was completely out of water, been no ice for weeks, but one Coca-Cola remained in the ice box. Not an encouraging picture. My drug situation looked beak too. I had two grams of smack, a few tolas of dope, and not an awful lot of coke. This would not do at all.

The longer I sat in the dim light from the one blackened lamp, the bleaker the future looked. Nope. This was not going to work. With my drugs on the verge of running out, as well as the light, I had no other conclusion to draw: I had to leave.

Slowly, the realization of my plight replaced my anger at the guys. I was alone in the house, with no one on the beach, no light, no water, no dope . . . Oh, shit! I had to go, and fast. No money!

Money! What was it Neal had said? He would send me money with a Goan. Would be?

I scurried off the platform and ran to look out the door. Nothing but wet darkness. Has he changed his mind about sending money? What had I answered when he'd said that? I couldn't remember. I hoped I hadn't talked him out of it. I had to go to Bombay, and I needed that money to get there. Oh, no. I really needed it.

I went back for more coke. A waspy insect flew around my head. Shit. This was a fine mess I'd gotten myself into. Fucking Serge. Did he really think I'd follow him to Iran? Was that where he meant when he said I knew where to find him? I had no idea. I missed him. How could he leave me? I loved him.

At the  brumm sound of a motorcycle, I overflowed with relief. Neal hadn't changed his mind!

I ran to the door. I recognized the Goan driver as one whom Neal always hired.

'Oh, hi. I was worried you wouldn't come.'

'This is from Neal,' he said, handing me a dripping envelope.

'I'm going to Bombay,' I told him. 'But I don't want to take that bus. Can you find a taxi to take me? How long would it take?'

'Taxi to Bombay? Twenty-six, twenty-seven hours with the rain.'

'Okay. Tomorrow?'

He shook his head from side to side, the Indian sign for yes.

Much relieved, I went back inside. I'd have to economize with the kerosene. I didn’t want to be left without any light at all. I decided to go to sleep early. That would help conserve the coke too. I packed my bags and was ready for bed by the time the light went out. The flashlight would just about get me through the rest of the night if I was awakened by an unexplained noise and wanted to investigate.

Now what would I do in Bombay? I bad little money Left, I’d have to do a run for somebody, since I no longer had the capital to finance my own. There should be someone in Bombay who needed a runner. There always was. For sure I'd find something. I’d go West, make money, make myself healthy, maybe quit the dope. I'd show those guys. Who needed them any way? Jerks. I'd be better off alone. Didn't need anybody. Got myself around the world on my own. Didn't need anybody now either. The assholes!

By the time the taxi arrived in the early afternoon, I was more than ready to leave the house. Yes, the time had come to pull myself together. As I settled in for the ride, escaping the empty beach turned to hopeful anticipation of the future. I was heading West. I'd scrub the dirt off my skin, untangle the knots in my hair, and