Читать книгу Sari's Story - Carina Zinkeisen - Страница 3

Sari's story - A Cambodian Lovestory

Rani looked thougtfully and a little bit melancholicly at her daughter's engagement cake.

Actual she had no time at all fort that and her hands cramped. She had to dress herself, because time was running and to waste that time, to be annoyed by the cake, was not the thing she wanted to do just now.

The cake was already melting away, as if it was not made for cambodia's humid climate. Why are the cakes always so heavy, that they tend to melt away, Rani thought angrily. It was so frustrating, even more that it was not the first engagement cake, that perhaps melted away for nothing, but the third one.

Rani sighed. At least this cake was not bought for lot of money from Paris or Phnom Penh, cambodia's capital. It was made at Plue Pumpkin, a famous Cambodian Coffeeschop, which made the best ice cream in the city, tourist peoble liked as well as Cambodian ones. Unfortunately the cakes there much to heavy and tend to melt away.

Rani wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was really very humid. Pushing sultry and she had a terrible headache.

Two engagements and no wedding yet. And also with the third one she was not sure if it would work, not sure at all.

With Sari you always had to be prepared for all sorts of things.

Maybe it was a mistake to let Sari study in Pnom Penh instead of having her here in Siem Reap under her supervision.

But that was not true, Phnom Penh could not be that mistake. Sreykouch, her middle daughter, had also studied accounting in Phnom Penh and then obediently entered into an arranged marriage with Vichay,the oldest son of her neighbour.

Even the soothsayer, who was indispensable for such matters, she had accepted without complaint. But Vichay had been a good match and so had Sreykouch, after all both families owned many stores in Siem Reap, the old royal city of Cambodia.

Sari, on the other hand, was not particularly fond of arranged marriages or the indispensable fortune teller and the first two engagements with men of her own choice had been a fiasco. Rani had put an end to this and set her up with Jay, Vichay's cousin, who lived and worked in Phnom Penh.

Jay had a very good job, was nice and well-educated, unlike Vichay he was also a quite handsome young man, almost like an Indian movie actor. He would put Sari on the right path. He just had to, it couldn't go on so licentious with her oldest daughter.

Rani sighed deeply again and rubbed her aching temples. Sari's impossible behavior already rubbed off on her youngest sister Simay, who still went to highschool and liked to wear boys' clothes and short hair, which Rani disliked as much as her childish intention never to marry. This was only the unfortunate influence of Sari, who now already had three engagements and so far no wedding, and this at the age of almost 30.

But wait, up to now there were only 2 engagements and no wedding, the third simply had to lead to a wedding. It simply had to work.

But there was nothing easy about Sari, Rani knew that and, with a grim smile, took a sip of coffee with thick, sweetened condensed milk.

She loved this sweet, typically Cambodian drink, although she knew exactly that it was not good for her teeth, her figure or anything else. Her doctor always told her something about diabetes, but she only heard it with half an ear.

Sari took a deep breath as she stood at the banister, looking at her mother and the rather monstrous and a bit kitschy engagement cake that was in a state of disintegration and probably cost a fortune again. Blue Pumpkin was also quite expensive, but they had indeed the best ice cream in town.

Sari bent silently over the railing and smiled as grimly as her mother, if not a little more.

On quiet soles she crept into her room. A little shaky she lay down on her bed, closed her eyes for a moment and just lay there. It calmed her a bit, just lying there and listening to her own breath. For a moment it was just her and her breath.

No engagement, no wedding, no mother and no Jay.

No Jay, who pushed her, as nice as he was. Pushed her to sleep with him. To marry him. Sex with him was more of a duty than she felt anything about it. She didn't feel anything at all, if she was honest and she didn't get wet, not even a little bit. She was like ice in his arms. In his arms and also with all other men so far.

Reluctantly she opened her eyes. She didn't want to think about the sex with Jay, all those nights in his apartment in Phnom Penh or here in her old girl's room.

And yet, the images could not be dispelled.

Once again not.

Once again not.

Jay, who had been lying heavily on top of her, unrolled from her and was still kissing her neck groaning. Sari convulsively tried to keep her eyes closed, thinking of Sarah, the student from England with whom she had had a short but fulfilling relationship many years ago in Phnom Penh.

In vain.

Again and again, however, Jay's face slid in front of her mental eye with his excitedly shining eyes, which always made her a little creepy. She would have loved best to scream loudly and push Jay away. It had hurt, once again and Jay had been so heavy on her, so heavy and her vagina still felt dry and sore. She just didn't get wet with him. Everything on her was sore and hurt and Sari had trouble holding back her tears.

Even now in thoughts.

She was not allowed to cry in front of Jay. That would be too conspicuous.

He was never allowed to know that she longed for a woman.

That she was gay.

She had to pull herself together and be the „perfect“ girlfriend, the „ideal“fiancee. Even though it was hard, very hard, increasingly hard, almost impossible.

"I could indeed do it again, Sari, I'm so horny for you," Jay breathed into her ear. Sari pulled her legs up and put herself in a more upright position. She shook her head.

"I think I'm getting my period. My stomach hurts. I'm hungry too, let's go to Blue Pumpkin."

Sari wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to find her way back to reality and breathe calmly.

Just her and her breath.

Calm and steady.

She lay there until the ringing of her cell phone tore her from her almost lethargic calm.

Without sitting up, she took the call.

It was Jay.

"Hello, dear, just landed. We don't need to get married, let's just go back to Phnom Penh, wild marriage," she heard his voice and smiled slightly.

"You'll do the accounts without my ma. For her, another broken engagement would be a disaster. At least Kouch already has a wedding on the plus side and Simay, you know her. I'm in a tight spot and the concept of wild marriage is no good for Ma. She's kind of stuck in the last century."

„I know, darling, we manage this all. I love you. I'm looking forward to the Khmer barbecue later, I've never liked cakes so much. Unlike your Sis. She and Vichay get their bags, I got mine already. Kouch is really looking forward to the cake. I know my favorite sister-in-law. I love you, Sari, darling."

Sari smiled.

"I love you too, Jay," she said softly and hung up.

It was a lie and she started to cry softly.

He looked really damn good, like a Bollywood actor, no comparison to his cousin Vichay, her sister Sreykouch's husband, who was nothing at all for Sari. Jay was just perfect, but she didn't love him, not even remotely.

Not even remotely.

Crying, she looked at the engagement dress hanging from a hanger on the curtain rod at the window. Like its two predecessors typical Cambodian, beautiful, heavy fabric, good quality, colorful, but unfortunately too much for her taste. She simply could not stand these traditional Cambodian, terribly pompous wedding celebrations, where the couples got into debt.

"Sari, Sis?"

Sari slowly straightened up.

„Sari, Sis?“

Sari slowly straightened up.

"Simay," she said lamely, looking at her youngest sister, who was wearing black leggings and an equally dark shirt, and straightened up a little.

"That Ma always has to make such a fuss about engagements and weddings. This kitschy monster down in the hall, which is melting away, has caused a choking sensation in me, just like the dress there on the pole and my own, puke-green. I hate clothes. When will you finally get Ma to see that this has no style at all," Simay said with a grin and sat down at Sari's bedside.

"I would love to go back to Phnom Penh immediately or Paris, London, New York, as far away as possible. What does Jay actually say about this?"

"He would take me even without engagement and wedding," Sari said quietly.

"And you, what about you, what do you want", asked Simay, who was now sitting on Saris bed with her legs crossed.

"I would rather not marry him or any other man. Not at all," Sari said violently and sat up as well. "But that is utopia, Simay, absolute utopia, we cannot live like this. Not here, not in Cambodia, not in our position as the leading daughters of a leading family."

Sari swallowed bitterly and thought of Sarah in Phnom Penh, the love for her and the painful separation that had gone from herself, because she was afraid that Sreykouch, with whom she shared a room in those times in Phnom Penh, would tell it their mom. She had never seen Sarah again and did not know what had become of her. Whether she still lived in Cambodia or had gone back to England.

"I'm going to get dressed now and you should too. The party must begin. Before the cake is no longer edible. Jay will be there soon, too. He is looking forward to the Khmer barbecue tonight. He is a good man, my Jay, he should show up here any moment, together with Vichay and our sister," she said very quietly and got up.

"Come on, Sim, let's play their game, even if it's not ours, let's go downstairs," she said grimly, and Simay also stood up reluctantly.