And drunk is what I was. Not falling-down drunk, because you can’t fall down if you haven’t stood up in the first place. Not roaring drunk, either, because a Buddhist monastery in Burma was no place for anything louder than a whisper.

What I was, all the same, was Very Fucking Drunk.

Which may explain what happened next.

“My God,” she said, wide-eyed in wonder. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It was a malarial dream.”

“It was better than a dream. It was wonderful.”

“Well,” I said.

“I don’t know how you could bear to touch me,” she said. “I was sweating like a pig before. I must smell foul.”

“You probably do,” I said, “and so do I, in all likelihood. If we bathed in the Irriwaddy we’d leave a ring. But evidently not bathing knocks out the sense of smell, because I didn’t notice.”

“Neither did I.” She yawned, stretched. I reached out a hand and stroked her breast. She purred.

“I hope I didn’t make noise.”

“Just a little,” I said.

“Maybe they’ll think it was the malaria.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“I was drunk, Evan. Were you drunk?”

“Very.”

“But now I think I am sober.”

“It feels that way to me, too.”

“That I am sober? Or that you are sober?”

“Both.”

“We screwed ourselves sober,” she said, and giggled.

“Well, maybe not a hundred percent sober. Not what you might call stone cold sober.”

She sighed. “It has been so long, Evan. I have not been with anyone in a very long time.”

With all the new diseases that had popped up while I chilled out in Union City, this had to come under the heading of Good News. “Neither have I,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”

“Longer for me, I bet.”

“Save your money.”

“Oh? How long?”

She’d never believe me, so why tell her? “So long,” I said, “that I almost forgot how to do it.”

“But you remembered.”

“Well, there are certain things you never forget how to do. Like falling off a bicycle.”

“Or drowning,” she said.

“Exactly. Once mastered, those skills are with you forever.”

“So it has really been a long time, Evan?”

“Ages.”

“Perhaps you are a true monk after all. It sounds as though you have been living like one.”

“Until tonight.”

“Yes, until tonight. But you should not keep him cloistered, Vanya.”

“Him?”

“Your little man,” she said, and reached out and took, uh, him in hand. “He is cute,” she announced. “He is a good little man. A standing-up man. Yes?”

“Upstanding, I think you mean.”

“And also I mean standing up. You see?”

“Oh.”

“So it is not right to keep him under lock and key. You should let him out more.”

“I see what you mean.”

“And I should let him in. Vanya?”

“God,” I said, reaching for her. “We have to be very quiet this time.”

“I know.”

“Extremely quiet.”

“Like mice, Vanya. Oh, yes. Oh, that is nice, my darling. That is so good.”

Perhaps, I thought, perhaps we were not absolutely sober…

Chapter 20

It struck me as less than good manners to sneak off without a word to the fellow I could only think of as the alpha monk, the one who’d given us shelter and provided the medicine and the blankets. On the other hand, I’d gotten through all that without a word, so why alter a successful formula?

And why worry about good manners at this late date? I’d already snookered him into touching a woman and bringing her into his sacred precincts, where she and I had engaged in two acts of drunken sex (and, I blush to admit, one act of hungover sex when she woke up the morning after). The sooner we were out of there, and the less ceremony attending our departure, the better for all concerned.

And so we wrapped ourselves up in those reeking red robes (and who knew any longer which robes were mine and which were hers, and what difference did it make, anyway?) and slipped out of there as unobtrusively as possible. I’d put one of the empty blue bottles in Katya’s bag and tried to arrange the other two so that there’d be as little telltale clinking as possible, and we slipped out of the room and walked softly but swiftly along the hall and down the stairs and out the door.

The great open courtyard of the central building was full of novice monks – boys, really – each sitting on a little rug and studying a lesson. We hurried on past them, trying to move as quickly as possible without looking as though that was what we were doing. At the compound entrance we were confronted by a great row of slippers and sandals, and spotting ours among all those others was like trying to pick out one’s own son from among those dozens of lads sitting on their rugs and doing their lessons. No, the boys were not identical, and neither were the sandals, but it took more time to tell them apart than one really cared to spend.

I found a pair that might have been mine, and Katya took a pair that suited her, and off we went. And we took ten or a dozen steps and ran into the alpha monk.

He smiled – beamed might be a better word for it – and asked if he could have a word with me. “Bitte,” he said to Katya, still beaming, and held up a hand to indicate that she should stay where she was. He led me around the corner and stood with his hands clasped in front of his waist. It was easy, I realized, to pick him out in a crowd. He was somehow recognizable, although I would be hard put to say just how. I could say that he didn’t look Burmese, but I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant by that, or even if it was accurate. It struck me that he looked Tibetan, in that something about him put me in mind of photos I’d seen of the Dalai Lama. But I don’t know if I was responding to a genuine resemblance or something about his energy.

In German he said, “I see your friend is better.”

I nodded.

“The fever broke during the night?”

Another nod.

“My German is not so good,” he said, switching smoothly to English. “I express myself better in English. Will you be able to follow me?”

I nodded again.

“Good. I am glad your friend feels better. It seems to me that she looks better, too. Her color is healthier and her eyes are clearer.”

He’d used the pronoun three times. Just to make sure I wouldn’t miss it.

“I am ashamed,” I said.

“Why?”

“For deceiving you.”

“You did not deceive me.”

“When did you know?”

“The moment I touched her brow. Perhaps before then. Her energy is a woman’s energy.”

“But you allowed me to place your hand on her forehead.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “As soon as I saw the two of you I knew you were not monks.”

“How did you know?”

“Your energy.”

“Oh.”

“One acquires certain strengths through years of meditation. You were dressed as monks, you behaved as monks, but you did not have the energy of monks. It is difficult to explain more precisely than that.”

“I think I understand.”

“And you are Western, and your companion is part Western. There are monks from the West who come here to study meditation. But they do not walk across the interior. They do not keep vows of silence.”

“But you did not expose us.”

“No.”

“In fact, you helped us. Instead of punishing us for sacrilege-”

“But where is the sacrilege?” He smiled. “It is clear you did not come to mock us. And you have not broken my precepts, because you are not a monk and so are not bound by them. Surely you have reasons for posing as monks.”

“Yes.”

“You are heading east? Deeper into Shan state?”

“Yes.”

“So perhaps you are avoiding the eyes of the authorities, and for such a purpose your disguise is not a bad one. The authorities are not aware of such subtle matters as energy. When they see a red robe they assume a monk.”