The Wishing Trees (17 page)

She turned away from her father, gazing at a distant island that seemed to rise straight up from the sea. The island appeared lonely, with no others around it. Though the land was beautiful, she had little desire to pull out her sketch pad. Instead she removed her greatgrandmother’s wedding ring from her backpack and slipped it onto her forefinger.

Nearby, a girl lay back and put her head on her friend’s bare belly, which had a tattoo of some sort. The friend said something in a language Mattie didn’t understand, and the girls laughed. Mattie sniffed and turned back to her father. “Can we get something to drink?” she asked, seeing that almost everyone else on the roof held a can or a bottle. “Something that’s not water. I’m tired of water.”

“Aye, aye, First Mate. I’ll be back in a tick.”

“Maybe a Sprite,” she said, watching him get up and make his way past the sprawled bodies around him. She noticed that, despite his age, he walked with a grace that most of the younger travelers lacked. They might have been shirtless and muscled, but unlike them, her father moved as if he’d been on a hundred such rooftops before. Mattie wondered how her mother would have looked on the roof. What would she have done if I’d put my head on her belly? Would she have stroked my hair? Would she have talked to me about my drawings?

Mattie was still asking herself such questions when her father returned, carrying two cans of Orange Fanta. “You didn’t get a beer?” she asked as he sat beside her.

He smiled. “Why would I fancy a swallow of amber when I could have a Fanta with you?”

“But everyone else is drinking beer.”

“And they’ll be zonked and falling asleep by the time we hit shore.”

“Oh.”

Moving closer to her, he touched his can to hers. “Will you do something for me, luv?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“Don’t be in a rush to grow up. I’ll miss you if you grow up too fast.”

“Daddy.”

“You don’t rush through your sketches, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, life is like your sketches. You’ll see the loveliest things, you’ll do the loveliest things, only if you take your time.”

“I do take my time.”

Ian sipped his Fanta, then tightened the drawstrings of his traveling hat under his chin. “My biggest regret, Roo, is moving too fast. Your mum moved at a much better pace.”

Mattie nodded, not wanting to talk about her mother. After putting away her great-grandmother’s ring, she glanced ahead and saw that a group of islands was materializing in the distance. At first the islands resembled little more than dark fins that rose from the sea. But as the ferry rumbled forward, the islands seemed to blossom. Colors and characteristics emerged, as if dawn were spreading its light on something that had been cloaked in darkness.

The limestone islands were unlike anything Mattie had ever seen. They rose straight from the sea, dominated by cliffs more than a thousand feet high. The islands were the shade of a stormy sky, though tinged with red sediment and partly covered in knee-high foliage. The bottoms of the cliffs were battered by waves and pockmarked with caverns. For a reason Mattie didn’t understand, the water near the islands was a brighter blue than the deep sea. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen such a beautiful blue. It seemed to glow—almost neon.

One island was bigger than its neighbors. This island, low in the center with a large beach, was dominated by an immense series of cliffs on either side. A few two-story hotels sprouted from amid clusters of palm trees.

“We’ll do a Captain Cook and climb to the top of that cliff,” Ian said, pointing. “From that high, Ko Phi Phi looks like a butterfly. The beach is its body. The cliffs are its wings.”

“Can we climb up there right away?”

“Soon, luv. But it’s best to go at dawn. We’ll go before the sun rises tomorrow.”

The ferry approached a cement pier. Ian didn’t recognize the pier and thought about the tsunami that had swept over Ko Phi Phi a few years earlier, killing thousands of locals and tourists. He dipped his head and closed his eyes, praying for everyone who had died and those they’d left behind. He would have kept his eyes closed longer but he didn’t want Mattie to inquire about his thoughts. And so he looked up and watched the island loom larger above them. Though it had been fifteen years since he’d been here, and the passage of time had dulled his reactions to a great many experiences, the sight of Ko Phi Phi still filled him with awe, for Ko Phi Phi was something out of a fairy tale.

Travelers around them began to gather their belongings. A beer can rolled atop the roof, nearing the edge. Ian started to move toward it, but Mattie was quicker and grabbed the can when it was a foot away from falling into the water. She carried it back to him and tucked it into one of the side pockets of his backpack. He smiled at her.

People began to disembark, and Ian and Mattie climbed down the stairs, made their way past piles of supplies, and stepped onto the pier. A few dozen Thais held signs with photos depicting various guesthouses. Ian had already made a reservation online and walked past the Thais, leading Mattie forward.

At the exit from the pier a different world emerged. Tightly packed within a space of three or four city blocks was a bizarre assortment of shops, restaurants, massage parlors, bars, and mini-marts. There were no streets, just a series of paths wide enough to accommodate baggage carts. Tropical trees, many of them banyans, rose far above the weather-stained structures. The trunks of the banyans—as wide as a king-sized bed—were wrapped in tattered red, blue, and yellow ribbons.

“This way, luv,” Ian said, turning to his right and walking past a series of dive shops. Next came a half dozen restaurants perched above the beach. Outside the restaurants, lying in wooden boats filled with ice, were rows of red snapper, tuna, barracuda, mackerel, squid, shark, crab, prawns, lobsters, and mussels. Diners eyed the seafood, setting items on stainless-steel scales to assess their weight and cost.

Electrical wire was strung ten feet off the ground, from shop to shop, restaurant to restaurant. Some of the paths were paved with bricks, while others were just sand. Travelers from around the world shared the paths, many carrying large backpacks, many dressed in swimsuits. Thais hawked snorkel trips, massages, dinner specials, and full-moon parties.

Ian and Mattie passed a crepe shop, and then a bar with European soccer matches playing on three televisions. A variety of cats chased insects or sat in shaded spots. Bordering the paths were irises, birds of paradise, bougainvillea, and delicate white flowers that resembled exploding fireworks. Clusters of bamboo rose like tufts of hair on a giant’s scalp. Hanging from many of these clusters were delicate cages containing brightly colored birds.

The air was heavy—full of moisture, heat, and the scent of vegetation. Hammocks were slung between eucalyptus trees. Children rode bicycles with training wheels. The absence of cars, scooters, and engine-powered vehicles helped maintain a sense of tranquility. Looming above everything, the massive wings of the island rose to touch scattered clouds.

Mattie gazed around in wonder. She didn’t know what to think. For the second time on their trip, she felt as if she were Alice falling into the rabbit’s hole. She followed her father as he turned left, toward the middle of the island. Soon they walked amid rows of wooden bungalows, many of them highlighted by high-peaked roofs that curved and flared out at the bottom. Most of the bungalows didn’t look well made. Perhaps they’d already withstood too many storms.

Mattie was surprised by how the locals dressed. The majority were clad in simple shorts and T-shirts, but Muslim women wore robes and head scarves. She’d heard some bad things about Muslims, but these people smiled at her and said hello in Thai. She returned their greetings and walked ahead, feeling lighter on her feet.

Though she didn’t hold her father’s hand as often as she once did, Mattie reached over and took his fingers in hers. “Daddy?”

“What, luv?”

“I’m not in a rush to grow up. So don’t worry about that.”

He smiled, pulling her closer. “What made you say that?”

“I like this place.”

“Me too.”

She spotted an immense, multicolored caterpillar on the ground and was careful to step around it. “Mommy asked me to draw her a picture in the sand.”

“She did?”

“Is there an empty beach here? With no people? I want to draw her something big.”

Ian nodded, glad that she had reached out to him. “I’m going to show you some sights tomorrow, Roo. Some sights that will make you smile. Then I’ll take you to one of the loveliest beaches in the world. And we’ll be all alone.” He turned right, heading toward a group of newer bungalows. “But how are you going to draw something so big? Won’t your feet leave footprints?”

“I’m going to use my feet, Daddy. That’s how I’ll draw.”

“With your feet?”

“You’ll see.”

He adjusted his backpack, moving the straps away from sore spots on his shoulders. “I’ll make you a deal, Roo.”

“What deal?”

“We’ll check in, finish those postcards we started on the plane, work on your math for two turns of the old clock, and then have dinner on the beach.”

“Two hours? But, Daddy, you said we’d do a Captain Cook.”

“And we will. But do you think our old mate sailed around the world without being a wizard at his numbers?”

“He—”

“And, speaking of wizards, I reckon that young Mr. Potter knows his figures too.”

She shrugged, glancing at the cliffs above them. “How about an hour?”

“How about two, and dinner and dessert on the beach? And then we’ll watch the sun wave good-bye.”

“Can you fix my braids while I study? Like Mommy used to?”

“Sure thing, Roo. I’d fancy that.”

She hopped over a puddle. “Don’t you think that doing homework is making me grow up faster?”

He chuckled, raising his hand with hers as she jumped over the next puddle. “I reckon not, luv. But nice try. I may be a dimwit, but I’m not a zero wit.”

“Daddy.”

“Doing your homework is just preparing you to be a grown-up, so that you can have heaps of fun when your hair starts to turn gray.”

“And you think grown-ups have fun? Back home, all you do is e-mail and have conference calls, and I don’t think it looks fun. Boring, boring, boring.”

“Your boring old father will show you some fun,” Ian replied, laughing, continuing to hold her hand as he increased their pace, as he tried to leap over an immense puddle in the middle of the path. His sandaled feet landed about halfway across, splashing their legs with warm brown water. Mattie giggled as he kicked the water at her. She splashed him back, soiling his shorts and shirt. Several passing Thais laughed at the spectacle, prompting Mattie to kick even harder. For the moment she forgot about her homework and her mother and her sadness. She was happy to be playing in a puddle, happy when her father picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and hurried toward the nearby sea.

THE OPEN-AIR RESTAURANT WAS PERCHED SEVERAL HUNDRED feet from the water, at the edge of the main beach. Almost everything, from the ceiling to the fans to the tables and floor, was fashioned from bamboo. The tables were covered with green silk and held bottles of chili sauce, pepper, and salt. Small paper napkins rose from the tops of plastic tissue boxes. The ceiling rafters were bordered by strings of Christmas lights. American Top-40 music played in the background as waitresses moved around, setting plates of steaming seafood in front of travelers from all over the globe. The seafood was prepared however the patrons wanted—shrimp served with sweet and sour sauce, shark steaks grilled with lemon and butter, squid added to fried rice. Most everyone was dressed in shorts, T-shirts, and sandals. People seemed to drink either Singha beer or fruit smoothies. Birds chirped in a nearby banyan tree while mosquito coils sent smoke wafting into the air. Geckos clung to the ceiling, remaining still until unsuspecting ants approached.

On the beach in front of the restaurant, travelers and locals enjoyed the coolness of the early evening. A group of about twenty Thai boys and a few foreigners played soccer on a vast stretch of sand. Two Thai men threw a Frisbee back and forth, separated by a distance of almost a football field. The Thais were extraordinarily athletic, leaping to kick the approaching Frisbee higher, then tapping it up and up with their heads, their hands, their elbows. They threw and played with the Frisbee as if it were a part of themselves that they could launch and catch with the greatest ease.

On either side of the beach, the immense butterfly-wing cliffs of the island rose hundreds of feet high. The cliffs were almost completely vertical, jutting out of the sand and sea with surreal precision. The sun had started descending toward the distant horizon, a subtle line between blue and blue, separating the sea and sky.

In the middle of the restaurant sat Ian and Mattie. Between them on the table lay a large red snapper that had been grilled. The fish’s fins, scales, and eyes were blackened from the flames, but its flesh was white and moist. Ian squeezed an additional lemon on the fish as he carefully pulled back its skin, which was covered in lemongrass and chilies. “Roo, would you hand me that pepper?” he asked, breathing in deeply, enjoying the scent of the fish and the humid air.