4. The back of the little cafe
One day, as living on ‘MySara’ sustenance money began to drag, Mala, eating Cheezeballs from a giant no-brand family-sized packet, Jacob told her, “There’s this place where hookers hang out. I found it -behind this little cafe...”
“Jacob, WHAT do you have to do with hookers?” She was breast-feeding their child.
“See, I can’t work much, nor can you, but we could all eat better for cheap -why not go over and see?”
Mala and Jacob held hands as they walked down the row of coffee joints, sushi bistros, and trendy book clubs where everyone was in turtlenecks. These gave way to betting agencies, hole in the wall takeaways, then a thicket of mulberry trees. They pushed through up to a doorstep obscured by dense branches and the buzzing of hornets. He rapped on it nervously, and a slot slid open. “I’m Jacob Wee, this is my wife, Mala.”
“Mala, who lost the Oakleys and purse, and you, who cleaned The Alley -okay, okay, wait -ah”
They heard a shaky hand jiggle a bunch of keys, then a lock turn, and they saw the leper who ran the place. The little cafe at the end of nowhere. Behind him, walls seared by a blaze -a fire, long ago -burn them all off their town, some young guns tried.
Instead, it facilitated a narrow, hidden stairway down to a moody basement cafe, lined with standing candles and purple stucco hung with tribal masks. It was half dark but they glimpsed his disfigurement -one of his hands, gnarled. He walked with a limp towards the back, where a sign hung,
‘Now the Lord God planted a garden east of Eden.’
“What is this place?” She peeled back dense foliage where naked bodies were joining.
“It exists for lonely people, for clean love. In reality it is but an illusion.”
“Isn’t this illegal? Jacob, what were you thinking?”
“Mala, wait. This is a good place and Eric is trustworthy. Maybe this is where we can start again.”
Eric showed them from the mirror-windowed control room, how filtered, subtly-strobing lights created the illusion of dense 3D vegetation, while ionized vapor and a loopy audio track set the stage for the olfactory sensations. There were tall stands of artificial plants here and there to give structure to the illusion.
“The hookers, are they also illusions?” Mala whispered.
More men got up from their tables and entered the garden which now featured a realistic waterfall and tropical birdsong. “No, but they’re ugly,” Eric glared at her.
Mala looked closely and saw they were all lepers like their boss. None of them really joined in the flesh. It was all simulated.
Eric showed them to a table. “You seen 2 sick heads buying beer and condoms at the mini mart? Who’d ever give them a ride but my ladies? And dang, they knew it!”
“Where are they now? When do they visit?”
But Eric kept silent, his dark face stretched with a broad smile. “They’ll soon get what they deserve. Have some fried chicken, Texas style.”
Mala bit into the crispy battered wings. Her eyes sparkled as she held his hand. Jacob, with that same far away look. A Swipe-n-Pay card was left on the table, 'Barney Liu', it read. Beside it, her lost purse. They charged their meal to the card.
Fin.
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