Water and/or Fall

Right now the three of us are yelling at Kelli to stand still and pointing at her butt. It’s hot out, probably in the humid upper eighties, which is fine. The pool beneath the waterfall is a cool and piercing green, like someone melted down an emerald, cooled and kept it cool,  and then they put some fish in there. We’re waiting for a butterfly to get its picture taken, but Kelli keeps wiggling around, shaking it off herself and back into the air. Erawan Falls is filled with butterflies, of all colors, but this one, the one we want a picture of, is a blue I’ve never seen before, half electric, half middle of the ocean. The butterflies flock to Kelli because her swimsuit looks like the biggest flower they’ve ever tried to get at, one that shakes about and speaks and takes their picture when they land. Down at the water’s edge a group of ugly Russians jump into the pool. One of them, a fat man in a small, black speedo starts to squeal when the fish begin to nibble at his legs. He does this like he’s much smaller than he is, and younger, and from somewhere other than from Russia. The fish are gathering in schools around him, sleek black shadows in the clear water, and the butterflies are gathering around the four of us, hovering in the light. His girlfriend laughs and takes his picture.

Six years ago, our friend Jacy almost died in these same pools trying to keep his girlfriend from dying. They had come here with Josh hoping to climb the limestone mountain where Erawan, in seven stages, sends its water down in picturesque cascades. They made it to the second falls, started swimming, and, since Jane couldn’t swim, started drowning. When Jacy tells the story, its mostly to bitch about how Josh didn’t try to help them. When Josh tells it, it’s mostly to laugh in the way that good friends do when someone they know and care about is in a real predicament. Part of the reason we’re here is to recreate the drowning, get it on camera, and send it to Jacy as a joke, something along the lines of, “Look, here’s us making fun of how you almost died in Thailand that one time.” Or at least it's something close to that. Since I’m brown, I play the part of Jane. Riley, because he has dark hair and a scruffy face, plays Jacy. Josh, of course, is Josh. We jump in. I start flailing about and pushing Riley’s head beneath the water. He’s supposed to come up for air and make his face turn red, bulge his eyes out white and wide, but it’s hard to do. He isn’t really drowning, so mostly it looks like we’re two boys splashing at each other in the water, which is what we are. After a while Josh half-assedly throws a tire in our direction. It falls short by about twenty feet and we cut the scene. The fish are biting at our bodies and we don’t like it. I scurry up the rocks and laugh as Riley slips and slides back down into the pool. Apparently, among other things, friends falling down on rocks is funny.

Erawan is the first place on the trip we’ve really come together as a group. The jet lag nearly killed us, kept us up at different hours of the day and night, kept us sleeping when we didn’t want to be. But here, finally, we’re all in time. Riley probably took it hardest, but today, in front of me, he’s scurrying up the path like a chubby monkey with his handheld video camera pointed at the jungle, then at the limestone cliffs, and then the falls themselves. Every now and then he hands the camera to me. In the frame of the camera I can see him in the distance climbing up the rocks. He’s about half way up. Above him, green water comes pouring down the mountain. Below him, a green pool collects the water, holding it in place. He’s a real live kid up there, pulling himself upward with a jungle vine. He gets to the top and sets his ass down in the rushing water. He gives me a thumbs up sign and lets himself go. He goes sliding down the rock face, splashes in the water, disappears and reappears. This time, climbing out, he doesn’t slip. We gather up our things. Soon the Russians will be here in their shitty speedos and yellow thongs. We don’t want that. What we do want are the butterflies in bright circles around our heads, spinning like however many multicolored stars. And they appease us. Together we follow Kelli up the emerald mountain. There are four more falls to go.