Hotel Bali

1.-3

“Dorci, honey, you have everything you could want here. Why would you even think of heading out into the unknown? What’s this crazy idea you’ve gotten into your head? What’s this great opportunity in Prague you’re talking about?”

Her mother’s weepy voice altered into an irritated tone when she realized that her eighteen year-old daughter was serious about leaving. They argued for days, but Dóra believed she had no other choice, and when her parents finally understood how dead set she was on carrying out her plan, her father’s sternness gave way. Her parents had always been able to balance their strength well: when one of them gripped the reigns harder, the other eased up. It was hard for Dóra to come to terms with what she had to face, because deep in her heart, she really wanted to stay. But her mind commanded: Go! She wasn’t sure she’d made the right choice when she left the safe, warm family nest behind, along with everything her parents had provided over the course of eighteen years. Yet she set out, only returning to Budapest at intervals few and far between, and each time she visited, she was tormented by fear.

But this time, she really had to return. There were only five days till departure. On June 30, she would have to make an appearance. She had made this promise seventeen years ago, and Dóra always kept her promises. And she was curious too, of course, though she already knew important basics. She wanted to see the others. She wondered if they would be able to face each other, look each other in the eye. But most of all, she wanted to know if they’d all show up. Would the others keep the promise they had made on that unforgettable, terrible day? Had they all left the country as agreed? Dóra had only spoken to Gabi since; or rather, they had exchanged emails. Gabi’s mother had run into Dóra’s father somewhere and that’s how Gabi managed to contact her old friend. She wrote from America to the hotel’s email that Dóra’s father had provided. They would all meet on June 30th in Budapest, in the park at five p.m. Though they had set this date many, many years ago already, they re-confirmed it in that email, happy that they would be able to hear each other’s stories and recount all the things that had happened to them since they left…

…Gone away to a place where their memories would no longer stifle them, to where they could start on a clean slate, into oblivion. The others probably didn’t know what a long trip Dóra would have to make to be there on the set day: the anniversary of when her life had suddenly veered off course, spinning away from what she had previously imagined as a high school student. But as a plus, she never thought one of her dreams would come true: residence in eternal summer, palm trees swaying outside her window, and the rumble of the ocean a few meters beyond. But while one of her dreams came true, another dream had become lost forever. That was the price she had to pay. Dóra would gladly have given up the former if the latter would have come true, but she had no choice in the matter.

“Okay. I’m in. Let’s meet at 5:30 on Kuta Square in front of the Matahari. We can run down to the beach if we still want to catch the sunset,” she typed in answer to Ian. Then, she headed down to the kitchen to make sure everything was running smoothly. Around this time, the guests sunning themselves by the edge of the pool were starting to place their orders for nasi goreng and satay, that sumptuous meat on a skewer stick, in addition all those other oddly named, piquant and spicy foods that made Indonesian and Balinese cuisine so irresistible. Of course, there were orders for hamburgers too, the eternally popular choice for the English-speaking guests. Perhaps hamburgers were the only food they truly trusted here at the end of the world.

Damn! Damn! She kicked the covers off herself angrily and tried to swat that blasted mosquito that wouldn’t let her sleep. For once she could have had a good night’s rest, if this buzzing monster hadn’t launched its attack at six a.m. And what good was the electronic mosquito repellant if not to zap these sneaky little beasts? Gabi leaped furiously out of bed and whacked the wall with a towel at the spot where she guessed the mosquito might be. Then she waited, but she didn’t see it anywhere.

“Drop dead. I’m serious. Just drop dead!” she screeched, and flopped back down on the bed. A few moments later, the dirty little bloodsucker was droning by her ear again. “Oh, dear Lord, why in hell can’t I get some sleep, just this one night?”

Finally, she gave up and shuffled out into the bathroom. She collapsed into the reed armchair in the corner and opened the bathtub’s tap from where she was sitting. She thought she might turn the hot tub function on, to at least soothe her body a little. She was wide awake, maybe because of her battle, or maybe because she was used to getting up early all the time: she either had to wake Juan by phone or in person, otherwise His Royal Highness would never get his butt out of bed and to practice on time. Juan, her cousin, was twenty-five years-old, which pretty much qualified him as an adult, but he simply couldn’t get accustomed to rising early. Recently, he had worked himself into the top ten of world-ranking tennis players, and on his better days, he was a real challenge on the court even for the number-one player. On a few occasions he had even beat the fellow young Spaniard who was the world’s second best tennis player, according to official rankings. So his prospects were more than promising… and so was his income. It wasn’t just the tournaments and his great results that raked the cash in: thanks to Gabi’s valuable endeavors, Juan had quite an attractive income from advertising, not just from equipment and clothes. Even an automobile brand employed him to promote sales. Gabi had been his manager for more than seven years now, working her way up from the status of “our poor Hungarian relative” to her present position, especially after the management of Juan’s career had been transferred from the hands of his harsh, authoritarian father to her. Since her uncle no longer presented any obstruction, Juan found a new coach, and Gabi’s position was upgraded from “assistant staff member” to manager. When Gabi first arrived to their home in Spain, or more precisely, in Barcelona, her main goal was to learn languages: English, Spanish, and Catalan. Gabi lived with her Uncle Károly and his wife. In return for room and board, she took care of their two kids: eight year-old Juan and his little sister, six year-old Natalie. Gabi was eighteen then and would have gone anywhere at all just to escape Budapest, the sooner the better. So she didn’t deliberate much about accepting her uncle’s offer. She said yes immediately.

Juan was a pretty entertaining kid to be around, even when he was little, and he looked up to his cousin, whom he considered a grownup. Gabi was an attractive young lady, and Juan found it especially amusing that she didn’t speak a single word of Spanish and barely able to come up with a few words in English. Naughty-boy Juan immediately taught her all the dirtiest swear words, so Gabi cursed fluently before she learned any normal words that might help her converse in Catalan (and Spanish). Each day, it was her job to take Juan to the tennis court after school and wait for him till practice ended. Later, Gabi started learning tennis from the young coaches who trained the little kids; they gave her some lessons during downtime when they saw how bored she was sitting there while Juan was practicing his serves, volleys, and basic hits.

All this had been nearly seventeen years ago. Since then, Juan had turned into a tall, incredibly manly, strapping fellow with jet black hair and a penetrating gaze. If describing him professionally, Gabi would have said that his powerful and well-placed left-handed serves, his backhand crosses and (on his better days) his smart volleys were finally starting to conquer the world… and the ladies. But contrary to many of his colleagues, Juan hadn’t dropped anchor beside any steady girl yet. He discussed his affairs exclusively with Gabi. After all, they had become very close friends over the years. Gabi sometimes noticed a hint of jealousy between her and a more serious girlfriend, even though Gabi and Juan loved each other as siblings would, like the cousins they were, dependent on each other. Juan had been Gabi’s ward since he was a little kid. She carted him to practice and back; she traveled with him to tournaments; she kept his spirits up after a defeat; and now she was the one managing his whole life. She was also the one who rustled up most of his extra income. Juan might have made a name for himself in the world of sports, but it was important that this name should to be “marketed” to people other than sports fans.

Juan was her best friend, and she discussed almost everything with him. She even explained that she had to go to Budapest in a few days. Luckily, Wimbledon was out of the way (Juan had made it to the semi-finals), so it was okay to take a little break.

“I might just come along with you,” Juan said to her last week. “It’s been a million years since I last visited Hungary. Just to take a look around… at all the famously pretty ladies too…”

“Take it easy,” Gabi gestured. “Come if you want, but I won’t stand by watching you flex your muscles at the chicks on Váci Street.”

“What’s on Váci Street?”

“How should I know?” Gabi shrugged. “You think I had time to hang around the shopping district?”

“You might have. During Christmas, for instance. You barely got back in time for New Year’s Eve.”

“Pardon me for visiting my family.”

“No prob, but I missed you. I was sad all by myself.”

“You mean with Paula.”

“Whatever. I’m not your husband.”

“And I’m not your wife.”

“But you might think about becoming a wife soon. You know you have my blessing,” he said, hugging her. “That is, if you marry someone who doesn’t mind you traveling around the world with me all the time, attending my matches.”

“How gracious of you, kind sir. Actually, I already have a candidate for a husband…”

“I know, I know… That pathetic bastard,” Juan said, chuckling. “He thinks he’s found a sweet girl that’s easy to get along with. Poor thing doesn’t know he’s involved with a stubborn vixen who will stop at nothing to get what she wants…”

“Shut up and get out of here. You have practice. If you keep this up, you’ll go sliding down the ranks, plunging me into bankruptcy, and then how will I ever make my dreams come true?”

“You can’t be a painter, Gabika,” he said, looking deep into her eyes, using the diminutive of her name in Hungarian. “Nope. Management is where your true talent lies.”

“Not painting? Is that what you think?”

“Yes, painting too, but your lust for life overpowers your dream of locking yourself into a room to dabble with art. You’re also much more efficient, if you know what I mean.”

Gabi slipped into the bathtub, turned on the jets, and sunk back into the water. If someone would have once told her that she’d have her own apartment in Barcelona by the esplanade, she would never have believed it and thought they were trying to mess with her mind. And if someone would have tried to make her believe that she would be the manager of one of the top tennis players in the world and would also be his best friend, well, she would have sent that person straight to hell for mocking her. But what if they’d suggested that she would lose her best friends – the girls she had spent almost every waking moment with, sharing all their dreams and plans for four years? Well, she would have turned her back on that person and walked away. And now, after so many years, she had to realize that never again would she have another friendship like she’d had with those three girls. She had no idea where they were today, what they were doing. But soon June 30 would roll around and perhaps she’d be reunited with them. She was especially hoping that Dóra would show up, after she’d promised in that short email. Gabi learned from her mother that Dóra was employed at a hotel in Indonesia and had only visited Hungary very rarely in the past seventeen years. Dóra: her bestest friend in the world. How Gabi had rooted for her romance with Péter to work out. She’d even helped them conspire so they could be together. And then there was Szilvi. She and Gabi still had things to settle. And Judit? What could be up with her? She had always been the shrinking violet of the group. Had she been able to get over what happened?

Gabi sighed. She’d thought so much about their last day together. Why had everything turned out this way? Why did everything have to fall to pieces? Why had life ruined everything for them? Had it been their fault? Gabi didn’t know, or rather, she didn’t want to answer this question. She might have been able to discuss this with Juan. The kid had such good insight on things sometimes, but Gabi wasn’t too thrilled about sharing this old story with Juan. She didn’t know if it was a good idea to let him come along to Budapest, though his company might come in handy at some point.

After she got out of the tub, she rubbed her body with a terrycloth towel and walked into the living room. She reached behind one of the cabinets and pulled out an empty canvas. She removed a palette and paints from the bureau and set them down in the empty corner of the living room. The sun shone directly on this spot, casting a soft light on the canvas. She slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, picked out a few shades of paint – various hues of red – and started mixing them. While she applied the paints to the palette, she seemed to sink into a kind of magical, altered state of consciousness. She didn’t actually see her immediate environment, but an image appeared before her, one that existed only inside her head. The first stroke of the brush was cautious, but then, as she moved along, she worked more boldly. There was a burning feeling inside her, pushing her to work faster. Whenever she stopped for a moment, she felt completely tranquil, her muscles and mind relaxed. Then, she returned to her painting again, propelled by the desire to finish what she’d started.