osmoala

The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated – Mark Twain

Everybody around seemed to have fever attacks and headaches, Toby, Mervin, Jade and Carolyn, to only name a few.

   I was down for two days with a temperature and a splitting headache that felt like having spikes hammered through my temples. Taking a walk to the balcony and back to my room was like climbing a mountain. So I stayed indoors watching Timeless, a series where the crew use a time machine to go back to different historical events trying to stop The Rittenhouse gang from changing the past in order to create a worldwide dictatorship in the present day. It is a great show and when I finished the last episode of season two it was like having to say bye to old friends. But the good thing was that I had recovered from whatever hit me.

Carolyn came back from work. She said,

   ”I had the most horrible day today – tired with no energy and this headache is driving me mad.”

   ”I told Toby that the Government is using Siem Reap as a test site to observe the impact of different viruses on the population.” It was a conspiracy theory even I didn't take that seriously. I gave her an Aspirin and we went down to the restaurant. We had a draft talking about important things, like where to eat tonight.

   Jade came by. She sat down and ordered a beer. ”I'm so tired today, and my head is a mess. I can't think straight.”

   ”We all have the same thing,” Carolyn said. They started the speed conversation I was used to with these two girls. They had known each other for only a short time but they chatted like sisters who have spent a lifetime together, and I thought it was lovely. It happened sometimes that people on Sok San Road mixed up these two happy ladies thinking Carolyn was Jade, and Jade was Carolyn.

   Then something else happened. Jade got a text from Hank, a friendly chap from Australia who has been around for years. She looked horrified. She said,

   ”Arthur is dead! Look!” She showed us the text that read 'He is gone, died last night'. I couldn't believe it. My longtime Dutch friend wasn't around anymore. She texted back: 'Are you sure?' and the reply was 'Yes, he was conscious for a while but then he just closed his eyes'. He apparently passed away in the hospital. We were in shock. I had met him only two days ago at Taste For Life, a restaurant where Arthur spent his mornings before going to Blue Bar, and he paid back the fiver he owed me.

   ”At least he gave me back the money I lent him before he died,” I said, but the girls didn't think it was that funny at all.

   ”They are having a memorial at Sway Away,” Jade said. ”Hank is there now. We must go there.”

   I had tears in my eyes, remembering the happy moments I'd spent with Arthur, and we were all sobbing quietly for a while. Arthur hadn't been well for some time – he had a bad leg, an infected foot the size of an American football, and he was all skin and bones, not looking healthy at all. We walked over to the bar and Hank was there. We were all hugging each other uttering sad words with sad faces.

   ”I'm so sorry to hear about this,” I said. ”Arthur was a dear friend of mine and he was too young to die.”

   ”What are you talking about?” Hank said. ”Arthur was my father and you never met him. He was ninety-four when he passed away.”

The next night when I was walking upstreams on Sok San Road I spotted Arthur sitting at Taste For Life. I walked in and shook his hand. He was probably on his sixth or seventh pastis because he was in a rhetorical mood.

   ”Obviously the rumours about your death are slightly exaggerated,” I said.

   ”Who told you I was dead?”

   I told him.

   ”Well, you can tell them to go and fuck themselves.” That was Arthur alright.