Title: Monks
Date: September 27th, 2024
Author: Z. E. Wayland
License: CC0; To the extent possible under law, Z. E. Wayland has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this work.
Though the temple is fasting, the town is not. So, we drive down the mountain path, barely touching the gas pedal. Brother Monk, who has the privilege to live in the comfortable bedrooms, throws gravel with every turn. The pebbles sound like summer rain when they land in the forest below. It’s Little Monk that brought money and brought me, his western brother. He complains something to Brother Monk. Brother Monk makes a funny retort. They both laugh; I laugh because they laugh.
When we reach the bottom, Little Monk shoves money into my hands. I reject, Little Monk offers again, and I accept, tucking the bills away before we arrive at the tourist area. They take a lot less pictures of us now that we’re not wearing our robes. Tourists chatter on about how “different the air is than in America” and how “nice it would be to be a monk.” I can’t stop to join their conversation and clear the jam of words in my throat. They would mistake me for a local.
The three of us spread along a bar. It saves us from the heat of boiling pots on the other side. Brother Monk and Little Monk tell the cook what they want while I point at one of the pots. As I wait, staring at the people outside, Brother Monk gestures us to stay. He leaves, passing by a tourist couple. They sit down next to me. One pats his face like coal, saying, “I should’ve packed sunscreen. I’m getting burnt on this side.”
“We can walk the other direction so we can make it even,” says the other. I laugh without noise. It’s not hard to hide it as Little Monk chats up the cook and fills the air with his laughter too. The cook doesn’t spare me a word when giving me my soup. So, I eat within my own silence. That’s when Brother Monk sets a toy car in front of me. An old Buick with wheels that roll and the words “Made in China” etched at the bottom.
I laugh, smile, and say “thank you” with as little accent as I could manage. After we finished, we drive back up to the temple to sell our leftovers.