After precisely three minutes, I turned off the water and quickly got dressed. When I opened the bathroom door, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting.
I looked around the room. “Let’s go.”
We exited the hotel. The night market was only ten blocks away, but there were no sidewalks in Cambodia and the cars and trucks pushed the cyclists to the very edge of the road.
Blaire had perfectly pedicured feet that were adorned in the cheap flip-flops I had bought her. Despite not wanting to be seen by too many people, I put my hand to my mouth and gave a sharp whistle at the cab that was approaching.
The sound made her start, and her hand flew to her chest. “Seriously.”
A taxi did a U-turn and pulled up beside us.
The drive was only a couple of minutes. When we got out at the start of the street that was blocked off for the market, she scrambled out of the taxi and stood looking in wonder.
“What is this place?”
“We need food.”
She sniffed the air. “Something smells amazing.”
I motioned for her to follow me. We passed by two mostly deserted food vendors before getting in line for the busiest vendor.
“Why are we standing in line when there are two food stalls over there that don’t have any customers?”
I could smell the shampoo in her hair. She smelled so fresh. “I follow the locals when I eat. They know the best places.”
She looked intrigued. “That’s clever.”
We got our food and sat down at one of the small side tables. She looked surprisingly comfortable on the red plastic stool. She ate everything I put in front of her with gusto.
She moaned as she bit into something. “This is delicious. Is this how you normally travel?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you go on your vacations, do you travel like this, or do you glam it up a bit?”
“It’s been a while since I took a vacation.”
Her gaze clashed with mine. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you take any vacations?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Some of us work, you know.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know that productivity goes up when you take a real break.”
Yeah, I knew that. That’s why I encouraged all our staff to take all their vacation time. But I didn’t like to spend too much time alone when my thoughts could creep in. I preferred to stay busy.
“I was about to take a break when some asshole kidnapped my friends.”
She looked at me with curiosity. “What were you going to do? Did you have a trip planned?”
I debated telling her about my fishing trip, but for some reason I held back. “I travel enough for my job. When I’m not working, I’m good at staying home.”
She eyed me speculatively. “You don’t like to be alone.”
Alarm bells went off in the back of my head as her words struck a nerve. “You done eating?”
“Yes.”
I stood. “Follow me.”
She trailed after me, going so slowly I had to stop a few times and wait for her. I stopped at a bag stand and motioned for her to come over. I tried the knapsack on her before asking the man how much.
He quoted me a reasonable price that I paid before pulling her aside.
I tugged at her new knapsack on her back, adjusting the straps. “This is your real estate. Buy whatever you need in terms of toiletries and clothes to get you through the next five days. You need something for the rain and something for the heat. Including a hat.”
Her eyes widened with joy. “Are you seriously letting me go shopping?”
“The caveat is that you have ten minutes.”
She stood there, looking around the market. “I need fifteen.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to argue, but she’d probably spend five minutes debating my decision, so what did it matter? “Fine. You’ve got fifteen minutes but not a second more.”
She still stood there. I ground my teeth. This was going to take all night. “Why are you just standing there?”
She didn’t look at me, merely raised her hand to stop me from speaking further. “I know how to shop. Let me shine.”
The next fifteen minutes were enlightening. I followed her as she wove her way through the crowd, walking with purpose. She would stop in front of a booth and assess the fabric, the stitch, and the quality of the material. Her quiet perusal had the merchants tripping over themselves. She would ask the price and would hold it up to herself in the mirror before turning to me, asking me for a specific amount.
“Ten dollars, please.”
“Fifteen dollars, please.”
They would hand her the clothes, and she would whip them away into her pack and move forward.
By the time she was finished, she had bought three sarongs, a couple of tank tops, underwear, a white pair of knockoff Converse runners and two more pairs of long cotton pants. She also bought a jacket shell and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Then she disappeared into the pharmacy.
I stood inside the front of the store and gave her money and privacy. She chatted pleasantly with the English-speaking clerk as she tucked her mysterious purchases into her bag.
She stopped in front of me. “Time?”
I checked my watch. “It’s been thirteen minutes.”
She looked around. “I’m done.”
“What about your hat?”
She shrugged. “I can wear the baseball hat.”
We started walking back through the markets. Darkness had fallen, and the market was aglow with hanging lights and with the sounds of laughter, people talking and the occasional dog barking. Cooking smells, incense smoke and burning oil floated heavy in the air. It all felt so familiar. It was a part of my past that I hated, so why did I feel so damn nostalgic?
For reasons even I didn’t understand, I stopped her when we passed a kiosk lined with traditional conical bamboo hats.
“Oh, look. Paper journals.” She bent over the counter and picked one up. “The cover is hand-embroidered. I love this!”
I lifted a hat off the wall, and when she stood up, I motioned for her to put it on.
She frowned as she bent down to look into the little table mirror. “I feel silly wearing this.”
She looked adorable. “It’s a great disguise.”
“So is the baseball hat.”
I handed the woman money for the journal, a pencil, and the hat. “This will keep you cool.”
The woman said something to Blaire, and Blaire laughed and shook her head. It took me a second to realize I hadn’t understood their conversation.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You understand her?”
“She knows Mandarin.”
“And you do?”
She shrugged off my question and instead listened intently to the woman.
I watched them converse before I butted in. “What’s she saying?”
She wrinkled her nose. “She says a big storm is going to hit the coast of the Philippines.”
I motioned for her to move. “Let’s go.”
The woman continued to talk, and Blaire listened. “She said that it’s going to be a typhoon, with hurricane winds, that will hit the Philippines directly.”