Chapter Eighteen Honeymooners #2
I’d never set foot inside a boxing ring, but I understood at least a version of what Robbie was talking about: shoring yourself up to increase the odds of your own survival.
I’d spent my life blocking the blows of others, wishing they’d tire of abusing me.
And at least for a while, I’d gotten good at blotting out feelings while keeping a smile plastered on my face.
Robbie’s experience helped me look at my own from a different vantage point.
I flashed on the mantra I’d learned at ITM—the Pali prayer in which we asked to attain “the knowledge of all nature.” Was this how I would do that?
Not just knowledge of the world around me, but of my internal self?
I sensed that I was beginning a process that would not be easy.
One thing, though, could not have been easier: hanging out with Robbie.
Being with him never felt like a chore. Despite our differences, we seemed to move at the same rhythm.
He introduced me to an Australian rock band called Powderfinger, and I fell in love with their biggest hit, whose lyrics—“My happiness is slowly creeping back / Now you’re at home / If it ever starts sinking in / It must be when you pack up and go”—described to a tee the feeling of pining for a lover who’s far away.
I told Robbie I never wanted to be far away from him.
One night I told Robbie there was something I needed him to help me do.
First we went to a bar in Ko Pha-Ngan, so I could sip a little liquid courage.
“I think I’ve told you that Jeffrey Epstein prohibited tattoos,” I said, taking a swallow of Thai whiskey.
Robbie nodded. He had a yin-and-yang symbol on his right shoulder that I’d admired, but he knew I didn’t have any ink.
“Well, there’s a tattoo parlor next door.
And I need you to come with me and hold my hand.
” A few minutes later, I told a Thai tattoo artist what I wanted and where I wanted it and then lay face down on a table.
Soon, I had a blue butterfly—to symbolize the freedom of flight—and the words “In Love With Robbie G” on the small of my back.
(Actually, the artist misspelled Robbie, using only one B.
To this day, in my phone, my husband’s contact number is filed under “Robie.”) In my mind, my new tattoo accomplished two goals: first, declaring my commitment to Robbie for all the world to see; and second, guaranteeing that I would repulse Epstein, who shunned tattooed girls.
As I told Robbie, only half-joking: “This is an insurance policy. Because now Jeffrey wouldn’t want me, even if he could make me come back. ”
We must’ve been at the Two Suns for about a week when Mat showed up for a visit.
Back in Chiang Mai, Mat had at first been worried when he heard how quickly Robbie and I planned to wed.
He thought Robbie’s parents would kill him for not somehow slowing us down.
Robbie had always had a way with the ladies, Mat knew—“I don’t think I’ve ever known him to be single,” he’d tell me later.
But Mat could see that Robbie’s and my connection was deeper than those he’d witnessed before.
So Mat had stood up for us at that mountaintop temple, and now he had arrived to make sure all was well.
You know how you can learn a lot about people by the company they keep?
From ITM, I already knew Mat had a kind way about him.
But to see Mat and Robbie together showed me a different side of my new husband.
They teased each other relentlessly, but with affection.
Mat had had a rough upbringing after his parents divorced.
He’d left his mother’s home at fifteen and moved to Sydney in search of his father.
After he and Robbie met, Robbie’s family had eventually taken Mat in. They’d been friends ever since.
We were on the beach drinking beer when Mat turned to Robbie with a serious look on his face. “Do you think it’s a coincidence, Rob?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?” Robbie said.
“Petra,” Mat said, and I watched Robbie’s mouth drop open. Robbie is a talker—it’s usually hard to get a word in edgewise around him. But now, he was mute—and his tan, brown face had gone a little pale.
“Who’s Petra?” I asked. Mat looked at Robbie and, after getting a nod of approval, turned to me.
“You know by now that Rob is a searcher,” he began.
“Well, about two years ago, we heard about a psychic named Petra who lived out in Campbelltown—that’s west of Sydney.
Friends told us she was the real deal.” Mat was reluctant to go see her, he said, but not because he doubted her powers.
He had an aunt who could see the future, so he knew such people existed.
For a variety of reasons, however, he didn’t want to know what life had in store for him.
Robbie, though, was gung ho. He couldn’t wait to track Petra down.
“So what did Petra say?” I asked.
“She said Rob would travel a long distance,” Mat said, “to meet a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl who would be his Only One.” I couldn’t believe it. I turned to look at Robbie, who was shaking his head.
“I’d forgotten, mate,” he stammered, clapping Mat on the shoulder.
Then he took a deep breath and turned back to me.
He was still processing the memory. “There’s more to this story,” Robbie said.
“Right before Mat and I left for Thailand, another good mate of mine asked me to be the best man at his wedding. When I told him I’d already bought my ticket to Bangkok, he tried to persuade me to push the trip back a month.
But I said no. ‘I don’t know why,’ I told him, ‘but I’ve just got to go now.
’ So now I’m realizing why: if I’d come a month later, I wouldn’t have met you. ”
This was like a fairy tale, I thought, as Robbie took my hand and held it. “I told you I believe in us, baby,” he said. “I believe we are meant to be.”
Apparently, though, we were also meant to face adversity together.
Robbie and I had befriended a charming nineteen-year-old Canadian, one of several travelers from all over the world who were staying at the Two Suns.
After Mat said goodbye, promising to reconnect with us soon in Australia, we invited the Canadian to join us one night to party inside our bungalow.
We thought he was terrific until the next morning, when we discovered most of our money was gone.
Robbie ran outside half-dressed and raced to the raised structure where the Canadian had been staying, but on the way, he encountered two Irish women who told him the guy had booked it out of there just after sunrise.
We were out more than $2,000; we had only $200 or so left.
Months later, Robbie would say that the robbery was a blessing.
“It was time to get out of holiday mode and come down to earth—to get back into real life,” he’d say.
But in that moment, we panicked. The robbery meant our honeymoon was over, obviously.
But worse than that, while Robbie had already bought his return ticket to Australia, I had no ticket to fly, and now we couldn’t afford to buy one.
Robbie called his parents. I’m sure they were wondering—who was this woman who’d bewitched their son, and who was now stranded with him, nearly penniless, on a remote tropical island?
But they stepped up to help us, as they would do so many times in the coming years, paying $800 for my flight to Sydney and sending a little more money to tide us over until we got there.
We packed up and told the Two Suns goodbye, retraced our steps from our honeymoon paradise to Bangkok, and then checked into a dingy, dirt-cheap backpackers’ hotel to await our departure.
There was one glitch in the plan: Robbie’s parents had not been able to get me on his direct flight, so we’d be traveling separately.
My flight would leave a few hours earlier than his did and would connect through Singapore.
Realizing this, I was filled with dread.
I’d come to rely on how secure Robbie made me feel.
The next day, as Robbie walked me to my gate at Bangkok International Airport, I didn’t want to let go of his hand.
“I’ll see you on the other side of the world,” Robbie said, grinning.
I tried to smile, too, but I didn’t completely succeed.
We kissed goodbye, and I got on the plane.
It turns out I was right to be nervous. When I landed in Singapore and tried to make my way to my connecting flight, customs officials descended upon me.
If I was not an Australian citizen, they wanted to know, why did I only have a one-way ticket into the country?
Where, they demanded, was my travel visa to Australia?
(I had no idea I’d needed one. Maxwell had always handled those matters for me before.) I was almost hysterical with fear.
If they sent me back to Bangkok, I didn’t know what I’d do.
I thought of the time, back in Florida, when Tony stole the tip money and got me fired, and I’d had no choice but to go crawling back to Epstein.
Was this going to be like that—a brief escape followed by a pitiful return to purgatory?
In my despair, I yearned for Robbie, who by this point was somewhere above the South China Sea.
But I was going to have to figure this out on my own.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more persuasive.
It helped that I was telling the authorities the truth: that I’d just married an Australian citizen.
I showed them the seven strings around my wrist. Where was the marriage license?
they wanted to know. Of course, I didn’t have one (later, we’d end up having to get remarried in Australia to make our union legal).
But I pulled out several of the photographs Mat had taken with my FunSaver, feeling grateful that I’d hurried to get them developed.
The customs officials looked at the photos, then back at me.
And then a miracle: they let me get on my connecting flight.
Eight hours later, I arrived in Sydney and stepped into the terminal feeling both exhilarated and anxious.
Robbie’s parents were coming to meet us, and since I’d landed before Robbie, I would need to introduce myself.
Coming out of the baggage area, I saw an older couple behind a rope—a wiry, white-haired gentleman and a stout, broad-shouldered woman whose round face was framed by an auburn pixie cut.
They looked like the people that Robbie had described.
I took a deep breath and headed toward them, forcing a smile.
“I’m Jenna,” I said, extending my hand, which Nina and Frank each shook, nodding politely.
Then we just stood there together, not talking, waiting for Robbie.
I’d soon learn that Frank spoke little English, but I didn’t know that then.
So the silence made me worry they already disapproved of me.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was only a few minutes, I glimpsed Robbie walking toward us down a long hallway.
Relief washed over me. Slipping under the ropes separating us from the passengers-only area, I sprinted until I was in his arms. We’d made it.
Together. Now, our new life could truly begin.