by Mystere

The man's ursine face was sweating profusely. Mine was too for that matter but from rather different influences. It was steamy hot and I felt like I was in an airless jungle though the noise and smells of the city surrounded us. This was a jungle far more dangerous than the tiger-ruled ones I had previously known.

It had not been meant for the man to ever have even seen me. It was a fluke that he had and my father had been very angry; angry with himself although I had not understood why at that moment. I was supposed to be on a Klong tour which is conducted by boat along the small canals and rivers that feed off the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok. I had not wanted to go at all and had begged my father to permit me to remain behind with him. He had shaken his head sadly.

"No, baby, this is one of the times that I must meet with people alone. After, we will go to A-1 and you can get some lychee ice cream." I loved lychee ice cream so I acquiesced and waved bye before trotting after the hired guide.

We had not gone more than half a kilometer before the engine on the boat overheated and we were towed back to shore. Many of the tourists were angry and the tour guide was profuse in her apologies as she attempted to assuage the ruffled feathers. I stood quietly, waiting for instructions. I was very young and not of a dominant personality so I was overlooked for some time. She finally noticed me and frowned indecisively.

"You wait. I take you back soon."

I nodded but bit my lip. It was very hot and the mosquitoes were gearing up for a huge party with me as hostess. I glanced behind her at the hotel which was mere steps from where we stood. She turned back to the irate passengers and I sat down, leaning against a wooden post. I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my head on them. After awhile, I closed my eyes. I had a perfect vision of a lychee ice cream in my head when the shadow fell across my face and his words interrupted my reverie.

"I can take you back to the hotel if you want." I looked up at him. He had a kindly smile and I smiled back.

"No, thank you. She is going to take me soon." I pointed at the tour guide. He smiled even more avuncularly.

"Yes...but she is very busy and I am also going there." He swept a hand across his sweaty face and I was reminded of how hot I was too. He exhaled and smiled at me again gently.

"I sure could use an ice cream right about now. They serve it in the restaurant there. May I buy you one?"

I licked my lips and looked at the stream of people going to and from the hotel entrance. I reached for his outstretched hand and let him pull me to my feet. I started to walk with him, his hand still in mine, when the tour guide noticed and barked at me to remain where I was. I smiled regretfully at the man.

"Thanks but I have to wait here." He shrugged then walked into the hotel. I began to wish I had joined him because it was another ten minutes before the tour guide escorted me to the hotel entrance.

I paused inside the doorway and tugged at my ponytails. I wasn't sure if I should go up to the room and I didn't know where my dad was. I moved to the side to avoid the rushing adults and gazed around uncertainly.

My eyes connected with his. He was facing me from across the lobby but he was acting strangely. His eyes were darting between me and the person he was speaking with and whose back was toward me. He kept licking his lips and shifting uncomfortably. I tried a tentative smile and his whole face changed. I stepped backward at the power of this change. It was filled with naked greed and excitement and something else. Shameful fear. Then his companion must have noticed because he turned around and stared at me. His eyes swung back to the sweating man then whipped back to my face.

I stood stock-still and stared at my father, my cry of greeting silenced before it could escape. Above me, the wooden fans swung lazily, their soft whumping sound the loudest thing I could hear suddenly. I had no idea what was going on but I had never seen such raw fear and anger in my father before. He stared at me for a long moment then seemed to compose himself, said a few words to the stranger and reached my side in a few long strides. He gripped my arms, his eyes glittering as he choked out his words in a hiss.

"Why are you here?" I stuttered a reply and he closed his eyes briefly then touched my face.

"Go sit over there and I will be back in a moment. Do NOT talk to anyone or go anywhere." His face was calm again and I slipped into a hidden seat. He was back within scant minutes and he ushered us to our room. The strange man was gone.

I told my dad that I had met the man at the hotel dock and how nice he had been to me. My dad stayed motionless as I explained the brief encounter then gathered me into his arms, kissing my head. I could sense great emotion in him and it made me feel scared for some reason. I didn't dare to move although I wanted to do something to break this mood. We sat that way for a long time then he finally stirred.

"I am not sure that I should be telling you any of this but you are so damned trusting and naïve sometimes that I don't feel I have any choice now." My eyes were wide and I swallowed convulsively, trying not to cry.

In halting words, he explained the man's place in my father's assignment. The man was one of a group of pedophiles who enjoyed lighthearted jaunts to Thailand to be hooked up with little girls and boys for sexual gratification. They even had a travel agency that arranged it all. Three-star comfort with the kind of perks that a paedo just can't find easily at home. My dad explained it simply but effectively. I cried. I asked if there was any way to stop it. He said that there were certain people who were, in fact, working hard to eradicate it and that he would be meeting with them shortly. He said that I could not come with him that evening but that he wanted me to see something the next day. I spent that evening with an enormous ice cream sundae, videos and a babysitter.

It was, if anything, even hotter that next afternoon. My dad took me on the boat ride and I think he didn't feel the heat as much because he seemed to always want to cuddle me. We saw much poverty yet everyone seemed to come out of their crude, riverside houses and wave at us. I waved back at many children and old people. I didn't see many people my parents' ages and I commented on it. He told me that most of those people were the same age and that a hard life takes its toll in these and other ways. He told me all about life expectancies and the struggle to survive and I grew quieter and quieter. When we disembarked, he told me about Kanya.

She was from a rural village and was almost exactly a year younger than I was. He said, oh, you should see her. She is so pretty and she loves horses just like you. I smiled and asked if I could meet her. We stopped outside a dirty, open-aired bar and he bought two ice-creams then turned toward a narrow stairway beside.

"We are going to meet her now. She does not speak much English but you can give her this." He handed me the second ice cream and we ascended the stairs.

There was a man seated at a rough table just inside the door at the top who studied us for a moment then smiled and clapped my father on the back before parting a curtain to usher us into the inner room. His gaze lingered on me momentarily but I felt no sense of fear from him and when he patted my head, I smiled at him. He removed his hand as if scalded when my father shot a burning look at him.

She was sitting very formally on a dingy couch, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked up quickly at us then returned her gaze to her hands. She looked eight. There were words spoken in Thai and she looked at me shyly. I held out the ice cream and she looked at the man who had accompanied us into the room. He nodded and she took it from me, rewarding me with a very slight smile. At another nod, she began to lick it slowly then suddenly seemed to inhale it. There was pure rapture on her face for only a moment then the cone was gone and I was gazing at a tabula rasa once again.

They began to speak and although she spoke very little and that was haltingly, I understood all too clearly. She was 11 and had been sold by her family as a prostitute. Girls are worthless and a family has to eat, you see. She knew some English. Words and phrases like, 'Daddy' and 'I love you.' She was sold when she was 8 years old. I came to understand that at 11, she was getting to be old and would soon hold no interest for the rich, pale men who slipped in and out of this country to sate their horrifying needs. I was stunned and I wanted to go home. I wanted to take her with me. She looked at my father then me and there wasn't even fear and hopelessness there. There was nothing. She was a shell.

I was crying when we left.

We stood in the shadows across the street much later and I stiffened as the sweaty, shifty man from the hotel scurried up the street. He was bent forward as if he couldn't get there fast enough and only took the most cursory glance around before climbing the stairs. I tensed and turned my head to my father's chest. The man descended the stairs shortly after, his hands manacled behind his back and was tucked into a police car.

I dropped my uneaten ice cream into a bin and held on tight to my dad as we walked away.