Authors: Kay Bratt
“Chai, watch what I do. Then you can do the next one,” she whispered. After drying the fish by shaking it over the sink, Josi picked up a small knife and began using it to remove the scales. Chai watched carefully as Josi expertly used an upward motion from tail to head, scraping the scales off little by little as she let them drop into the tiny wastebasket at her feet.
Chai picked up a fish and began washing it under the stream of water.
“Now you have to get the guts out.” Josi turned the fish over, cutting it from the gills on down. She pulled the insides out and dropped them in a pail sitting on the counter.
The woman stood behind them, hands on her hips, and her eyes burning holes in their backs as she watched their every move.
Josi motioned Chai to move over and then showed her how to wash out the empty fish cavity. When Josi felt it was clean, she made one more swipe with the knife to remove the dorsal fin, and then she dropped the clean fish into an empty pot.
The woman clapped her hands together. “Very good. You know how to clean a fish; now let’s hope you can cook it.”
Chai muttered so that only Josi could hear her, “How’s that for crippled and useless, you old bat!”
The girls worked together to clean the rest of the fish, then moved aside as the woman lectured them on proper cooking techniques. Though the woman had said they would cook dinner, she decided to cook the fish herself and gave the girls a bowl of vegetables to clean and cook as they listened to her instructions. The three of them soon had a complete meal cooked.
They had just placed the meal on the table when they heard the loud voices of men outside.
“Now you will officially meet my older sons.”
Before Chai could form a response, the door flew open, and the man they had seen earlier came striding in, trailed by two older boys and the strong stench of fish. The three of them stopped when they saw the girls standing in the kitchen area.
“So, you have put them to work already,” the woman’s husband said, his eyes narrowing at the girls.
“Yes, they know how to clean fish—at least the one does, and she has taught Jiayi. The crippled girl is quite handy in the kitchen, it seems.”
“Don’t get any ideas. We’re not keeping two,” the man scolded his wife.
“Can I talk to you outside, Zhongfu?” The woman beckoned her husband out the door. With one final glare at the girls, he followed his wife.
The two older boys stood still as statues, staring at the girls, their thumbs tucked under the suspenders that held up their green plastic coveralls. Chai recognized the tallest chubby brother as the one who had kicked Josi earlier that day. She shot him a disgusted look and he glared back at her.
His brother was slimmer with a kinder face—much less intimidating than the older boy. As they all stood around awkwardly, the little boys chattered and played with their toy cars in the floor, oblivious to the tension in the air around them.
Chai defiantly stared back at the boys as Josi stood behind her, hiding her face from the scrutiny.
“You’re just a
girl
,” the bigger boy stated, disdain on his pudgy face.
“Yes, you were expecting what? A monkey?” Chai didn’t care if they were only a step above servants; she didn’t like to be insulted. “And you stink like fish.”
The big boy threw his head back and laughed. “A smart one, too! You will have to learn that you must show respect to me in my house.” His smile turned ugly as he moved toward her, and Chai stepped back, tripping over Josi in her desire to put more distance between her and the bully.
“Oh, Bo, leave them alone. They just got here, and you can see they’re afraid,” the younger boy said, glancing at Chai with apologetic eyes. He looked about fourteen, at least a couple of years younger than his older—and uglier—brother.
For his interference, the younger brother earned a hefty punch to the arm that made him stagger back and fall against the wall. As he rubbed the spot, his older brother laughed and called him a baby.
The parents returned to the room, and the father gave Chai a scathing look, stomping past her to go into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. The woman beckoned the boys to sit at the table. They didn’t need to be told twice—they sat down quickly and piled their bowls high with the fish and vegetables.
Chai felt her stomach rumble and realized that she couldn’t remember when she had last eaten. She inhaled deeply and caught the whiff of the fish the woman had deep-fried. She had never been very fond of fish, but then again she’d never been so hungry before, either. It smelled delicious. Even the teasing spicy aroma of the cabbage they’d cooked with garlic and red peppers was making her dizzy with hunger, and she knew that Josi must be feeling the same way, though it was hard to tell because she wouldn’t raise her head up to look anyone in the face.
“You girls sit down over there and wait for the family to finish supper. If there is anything left, you’ll eat,” the woman told them as she pointed to the floor in the living room.
Chai leaned toward Josi and whispered, “With that fat toad at the table, there probably won’t be anything left but a few grains of rice.” She nodded toward the older brother. He must have felt their eyes on him, because he looked over and glared at Chai. Josi softly giggled, her eyes still downcast.
The father returned to the room, and they all sat down as a family to eat the evening meal. Chai and Josi sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting until they were summoned again. After what felt like hours, the boys all got up to go their separate ways.
“Don’t forget to throw the scraps to the dogs, Mama,” the oldest brother said. He cast them a sarcastic smile and patted his belly as he and his father left to go outside and smoke.
The other three boys sprawled around the living room, ready to rest after the meal.
The mother stood up and turned to the girls. “Clean up this mess, and then you may eat.”
Josi and Chai jumped to their feet and began clearing dishes from the table. Chai looked up to see Josi wiping tears from her cheek.
“Josi, what is it? You’re crying.”
“They sat around their table just like I did with my family. I miss them, Chai.”
“I know. Just be patient; we’ll get home,” Chai whispered across the table as she balanced the empty bowls in her hands. “Our families will find us, Josi. Baba always told me that people are connected to those who are supposed to be in their lives by an invisible red thread. We might be a little off track right now, but
I promise we’ll find our way back to where we are meant to be.” Chai struggled to sound more confident than she felt.
To their disappointment, the fish was completely gone. They wouldn’t get to taste the woman’s fish recipe, but at least there was a small amount of rice and vegetables remaining. As they washed the pots, the mother scraped the leftovers into two bowls, filling them unevenly first with rice, and then adding the remaining vegetables to only one of them.
“After you finish scrubbing the pans and the rice cooker, wipe the counter down, and then sit down to eat. You can hurry up, too. It shouldn’t take all night.”
Chai and Josi soon came to the table and sat down, anxious to fill their empty bellies. The woman grabbed the two bowls and set the fuller one in front of Chai, and the almost empty one of only rice in front of Josi.
“Josi—I mean, Niu—needs more food than that. I can share mine.”
“No! You will not share. You must become strong, and she is a mouth we did not plan to feed. She is lucky to eat at all.” The woman turned her attention to the smaller boys, telling them to get ready for bed.
When the woman turned away, Chai quietly scraped half of her food into Josi’s bowl, and they began eating. It took a few bites, but soon her dizziness began to fade as her body greedily processed the food. Josi sat beside her, cheeks flaming red with shame as she ate her share of the dinner.
C
hai and Josi sat on the scarred wooden floor in their new bedroom, staring at the crack of light under the door.
“Chai, it’s so dark in here. Why can’t we have a light?”
“Because this isn’t really a room. They just threw it together as a place to keep me. They don’t have electricity running to it.” Chai had noticed the straggly power lines crisscrossing most of the floating homes in what appeared to be a homemade job.
“Do you think she’ll come back soon?” Josi whispered, her voice shaking with fear.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Chai reached across and felt for Josi’s hand, then held it. “Don’t worry; pretend we’re in a fancy movie theater and the movie is about to start. Remember when Baba took us for our tenth birthdays?” She tried to think of anything that could help her ease Josi’s fear of the dark, though she was still thinking about their evening and wondering if their future days were going to be a repeat of constant drudgery.
They had been escorted back to the metal room after they’d finished eating and cleaning up the last of the dishes. The woman hadn’t said a word, just gestured for them to go in and locked the door behind them. At least an hour had passed, maybe more, and
Chai worried that they would be stuck in there all night with no mat, blankets, or light.
They talked about the movie they had seen for a few more minutes until they heard a door open and a shuffling of footsteps. The lock clicked, and the woman swung open the door. She held a few supplies in her arms, which she dumped on the floor in front of the girls.
“Here’s your mat—you can share. I only expected one girl. Here’s a blanket, a few clothes, and a light.”
Josi snatched the lantern from the pile and hugged it to her chest.
“
Xie xie.
” Chai looked up at the woman to see if she accepted her robotic expression of thanks. On one hand she was glad for Josi that they’d have light, but she still couldn’t squelch the fire within her that refused to be thankful to someone who was definitely a part of their abduction.
The woman sighed. Then she squatted down before the girls and looked at Chai.
“I am not a cruel woman. I want you to know that. I’ve been told not to coddle you, and if I do, it will only mean trouble for me and you both. We paid a lot of money for you so that we could ensure at least one of our sons will marry and carry on our name. Girls are scarce around here, especially for the fishing families. If you follow the rules, your life here will be simple but fair.”
Chai stuck her lip out defiantly. She would never agree to live there, and she planned to find her way home as soon as she could figure out how.
“I can see the thoughts in your head, girl. Don’t you even think about running away. You won’t get far, and when Zhongfu finds you—and I promise he will—he’ll beat you worse than you’ve ever been beaten.”
“But why us? How did you even know about us? There are other girls out there; why can’t we just go home?”
The woman pointed her finger at Chai and smiled. “
You
were chosen because of your beauty and lighter skin. There are people who scout the villages for girls like you and bring them to families with many sons. Your family is as poor as ours, so we’re not really taking you away from anything. Actually, it may not look it, but we may be richer, because we’ll always be able to bring in fish. You need to get used to the fact that you can’t go home, and now your friend can’t either. If we sent her back, she might lead your family to find you, and we won’t take that chance. We’ll find her a home to go to after you two are settled a bit.”
Josi moaned and began to cry softly. Chai put her arm around her and pulled her closer.
“I will not let you take Josi from me. And you can’t keep us here. Our fathers will find us.” Chai remained defiant, though she was losing steam and becoming very tired now that she had food in her belly.
“No. They won’t. You are many, many miles from your home. If you try to escape, you might run into very bad people who will sell you for worse things than you can even imagine. Tell me, do you even know the name of your village?”
Chai looked at Josi, alarmed that she didn’t know the name—she had always just called it
the village
. But she did know it was close to Qinyu, for they had gone to that city when they saw the movie for their birthdays. She decided it was best to pretend to know nothing.
Josi shook her head from side to side, her eyes big with fear.
“That’s what I suspected. And it was the same for me when I came as a little girl.”
“You? What do you mean?” Chai narrowed her eyes at the woman. She had heard of girls being sold to families to raise as child brides, but this was her first time ever matching a rumored child bride to a real live person.
“I was also stolen from my village and brought to live in my husband’s home as a child bride. Lucky for you, I won’t beat you. My mother-in-law treated me very badly until I learned to obey her demands and do things the way she wanted them done. She dictated until I lost my will to refuse her whims. I soon forgot about my old life, and now this is who I am. I can’t remember my first family or even my birth name. And I’m sure they no longer think of me.”
Chai stuck her lip out again, and she crossed her arms.
“My family will never forget; they will remember me.”
C
hai was awakened by the rattling of the metal door. She listened—not moving an inch, just keeping her arms tightly wrapped around Josi’s warm body. It was surprising how cold it was; they’d both guessed they had been taken farther north because the warm temperatures of the day gave way to a slight chill as soon as the sun went down. The woman had given them a blanket to share, and they had dressed in the clothes she’d left them, but still they were cold enough to want to huddle together for warmth.
“Psst.
Kai men.
”
Chai heard the voice of one of the brothers, the nice one, asking them to open the door.
“Josi! Wake up!” She shook Josi’s shoulder until she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“What, Chai? I’m tired. Go to sleep.”
“Someone’s at the door.” Chai stood up and went to the door, pressing her ear to it.