Made in Taiwan 28

Day 257

After that fateful evening in the hotel room, things changed, and not in a good way. I woke up the next day, my legs and feet in agony, after trekking across half the city, to find Simona standing over me in my room, and she looked furious.

“You fucking idiot”, she screamed at me, “do you know what you’ve done”?

“I'm sorry”, I replied, half asleep, “It was asking too much. I couldn’t do it”.

“It was one night, GG”, she hollered, “all you had to do was get through it. He would have been done with you within the hour. Now you’ve fucked up everything”.

“I’m sorry”, I said, apologising again, “I’m not like you, I just couldn’t let him touch me”.

I saw her eyes bulge. She looked like she was going to explode. “And what the fuck does that mean? Like me? Do you think I meet that creep because I enjoy it? I do it to survive. I do it because I’ve got no other choice”.

Cowering under the sheets, I just stared at her. “I’ll have to leave now”, she muttered with her head in her hands, “they’ll send me back. No! I won’t go back! I won’t!”

I tried to speak, but she cut me off, “I hope you have some master plan to sort this out because I’m done”, she said, shaking her head, “you’re on your own now, Simona. Have a nice life arsehole”. And with that, she turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door on her way out.

That was a week ago, and I haven’t spoken to or seen her since. At first, I thought she’d calm down, so I just went about my life or her life as normal. But I knew something was really wrong when I went to the university three days ago to discover, Simona or Grant hadn’t been in.

I sat through the classes with my mind all over the place, wondering where she could be. I think I only spoke once all day, and that was more like a grunt to acknowledge Ms Li when she told me they had something for me in reception.

I left at lunchtime that day, not able to face sitting there any longer with everyone staring at me. Remembering to stop by reception, I was presented with the handbag I’d left in Long Bo’s hotel room. The woman said someone had found it in the canteen and handed it in. I guess Long Bo, didn’t know what to do with it.

With my phone back in my possession, I text Simona to apologise once more. I received no reply. I also received no reply to the countless messages I sent and calls I made after that. Simona really didn’t want to talk to me.

Day 275

Another two weeks had passed, and I still hadn’t heard from her. At my wit's end, I was living in a constant state of worry.

“You need to go around and see her, talk to her”, Mei stated as we sat together in the Betel nut stand.

Looking across at her, I knew she was right. "But Jamal will be there, I can’t face him again looking like this”, I moaned.

“Why? Do you think he’ll recognise you? Did he last time”? She shot back.

“Well, no”, I stuttered, trying to think of any excuse not to go over there, “I… I… It will just be too weird”.

“Baby, listen”, Mei said, taking my long-nailed hand, “you need to sort this out with her. This is making you ill. You said yourself. You’re not sleeping, and when was the last time you had a decent meal”?

Again, I knew she was right. “Ok”, I said with a large gulp, “I’ll go around in a day or two”.

“No”, Mei countered, forcefully, “you’ll go now before you chicken out. I'll cover for you if any of the bosses show up, which is very unlikely. Go get on your scooter and talk to her”!

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Out of breath, I found myself outside the door to my old apartment, having not seen it in so long, I’d actually forgot the colour of it. With my legs shaking, not just from the nerves, but also from the hike up the stairs in my strappy black platform sandals. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

There was a long delay as I considered running away. But then I heard heavy footsteps approaching. Knowing who it was going to be, I braced myself for an awkward encounter.

(See image 39)

“Oh, hey, Simona, I wasn’t expecting you”, Jamal said, his eyes half glazed over and sinking of weed, “how did you get up, here”?

“Oh, hi Jamal”, I replied nervously, trying to appear confident, “someone was leaving when I arrived. They let me in”. That was a lie. I’d let myself in with the spare key.

“Oh, ok, cool”, Jamal replied with a smile, “how can I help you”?

“Well, I was hoping to speak to Grant”, I answered, playing with my long ponytail, and looking down at my elevated feet, "is he in"?

There was a sudden look of confusion on Jamal’s face, “Grant? He’s not here. He left a few weeks back. Didn’t he tell you”?

The words felt like a dagger through my heart. “Gone”, I cried, “Gone where”?

“Back to England, I think”, Jamal answered, the look on his face made it look like he was struggling to think. “But I’m not really sure, he left in a hurry. To be honest, I was quite hurt. I thought we were buds”.

Up until this point, I had tried to be strong, but after hearing those words, I broke. Falling to my knees and started to sob.

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he meant that much to you”, Jamal said, picking me up with ease. “Here come inside and sit down for a minute”.

Placing one of his huge arms around me, he guided me into the apartment. For a second, the familiar feeling of being with him in our old home felt comforting. That is until I looked down past my watermelon-sized breasts to see my thin shapely legs perched atop ludicrously tall high-heeled sandals. Stumbling along, I tried to keep up with him as he led me onto the patio and sat me down on the chair where we used to sit and smoke together in the evenings.

“Can I get you a drink or something”? he asked, after around twenty seconds of silence. Without looking up, I shook my head to indicate I didn’t.

“Erm… so… I’m sorry about Grant, Simona”, Jamal muttered, “I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t the same guy when I got back from my trip to the south”.

Feeling completely lost and frightened, I looked up into Jamal’s stoned eyes. “I’m not Simona”, I cried, fighting back the tears.

Silence fell upon us once more as Jamal looked at me with squinted eyes. “Ha, good one”, he announced with a chuckle, “If you’re not Simona, then who are you”?

“I’m Grant”, I announced, almost choking on the words as I looked down at my girly legs.

Jamal took a second to look me up and down before again chuckling. “Ha, you almost had me for a second there. I didn’t realise you were so funny”.

“Do I look like I’m joking”? I screamed, looking up at him with a very serious face, “Do you think I wanted any of this”? Placing my head in my hands, I looked down at the floor.

“That’s crazy”, Jamal shot back, “I saw Grant pack up his things and walk out!”

“That was Simona”, I replied meekly, “a lot of things happened, and crazy as it sounds, we ended up trading places”.

A few moments passed before Jamal spoke again. His half-baked brain probably not making it easy to comprehend what I was saying. “Ok, so if you’re Grant, take off that wig”, he finally announced with a smile, thinking he’d come up with some sort of test.

“I can’t! It isn’t a wig”! I answered, raising my thinly arched brows, and tugging softly at my long ponytail. “Simona really wanted our disguises to be foolproof. But how about this, ask me a question. One only Grant would know the answer to. Something you told him”.

Jamal looked at me with scepticism in his eyes. “Ok, I’ll play along”, he announced in a mocking tone. “What are my parent’s names”?

“Your Dad’s called Terry, he's an ex-basketball player like you. You never told me your mother’s name, but you did say once that she was a nurse”.

I could see the cogs turning in his brain. “Ok, I guess that was too easy. Grant probably told you about them. Try this one. When Grant first moved in, he lost his passport. Where did he lose it”?

Smiling, I looked over at him. “It wasn’t my passport; it was my wallet. And it was your fault for getting me so stoned. If that guy in the seven-eleven hadn’t been so nice, running down the street after me, I would never have gotten it back”.

“Shit”, Jamal announced, his mouth gaping. “This is crazy! You can't be him. You look so... is it really true”?

Looking over I nodded my head and gave him a weak smile. “Unfortunately, yes. I have no reason to make this up”!

“Man, what the hell happened”? Jamal suddenly cried out, sitting forward on his chair.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Do you want to hear it”? I replied, nervous but happy he finally believed me.

“Yeah, shit man, this I gotta hear. But hang on a minute. Let me roll up a joint first, I get the feeling this is going to be wild".

So, for the best part of an hour, we sat together on the patio just like old times as I recalled the crazy series of events that had led me to his door that evening looking like some sort of bimbo call girl.

(See image 40)

To his credit, Jamal sat and listened attentively. Only interrupting to ask a question here and there when I forgot to mention some important detail. By the end of my story, I felt rather emotional, but at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

With the sun starting to set over the blocky but somehow beautiful old buildings of Taipei city, Jamal looked over at me and smiled. “So, what are you going to do now”? He asked, shaking his head.

Snorting, I looked back over at him through my thick mascara-laden lashes and pouted. “To be honest, I have no idea”, I replied, “I guess I’ll think about it in the morning, but right now, how about rolling up another”?

Reaching around to retrieve his little tin from the plant pot where he kept it, Jamal nodded. “I like you’re thinking Gra… err… what should I call you looking like that. Grant seems so wrong”?

“GG”, I replied, “call me GG”.