The Unwanted (14 page)
The butcher's wife turned bright red but was not giving up. “Under the Imperialist government,” she said fervently, “there are two possible ways for a person to have had mixed-blood children: through prostitution or through adoption. You have admitted earlier that fucking was how you got them, so you must be a hooker.” She ended triumphantly, looking around the audience for affirmation.
My mother swallowed again. She knew at that moment she had to make up her mind about her past status before these strangers. They wanted to label her so that later, they could justify any action taken against her. What was the lesser of the two evils she could admit to—being a lowly prostitute or an arrogant capitalist? To the new regime, capitalism was considered the higher crime. Fifteen seconds dragged by before she could speak. Finally, with the crowd's full attention, my mother nodded in agreement. “Yes, I was,” she said. “A prostitute is exactly what I was. And I am utterly ashamed of it.”
“If you had any shame,” the butcher's wife criticized, “you wouldn't admit it in front of everybody. I think you would find a way to be rid of the bastards. In fact, you could very well get an abortion right now if you wanted to.”
“Who are you?” the leader asked the woman. “Give me your name so I can give you a point.”
From the stage, my mother spoke into the microphone as she pointed her finger into the crowd. “If you ask the man over there, you'll find out that he is responsible for the baby inside me. It was not from a foreigner's seed, and I was not getting paid sleeping with him. Can I then keep this bastard child?”
No one answered her; however, the crowd's attention turned to Lam.
“Come up here. Tell us your story,” the leader said to Lam.
W
hen my mother returned home from the meeting, she was in a cranky mood. Lam looked as though someone had let the air out of his body. A disgusted look appeared on my mother's face when she saw Jimmy and me lying on the floor with the puppy.
“Get that filthy beast out of here,” she told us. “It's got to learn to stay outside.”
“It is too young to stay outside,” my grandfather protested.
“I don't care. Take it out for a walk.”
I took Lulu in my arms and, with my brother behind me, hurried away from my mother's sight. In the front yard, we walked back and forth, with Lulu hopping between our feet. A moment later, Tin, leading his brothers, stopped us.
“What in the devil's name is this?” my cousin asked, pointing at the puppy.
“She is a present from Loan,” I told him. “Her name is Lulu.”
“Let me see.” He pushed me aside to pick her up. Lulu let out a yelp as his hands tightened around her midsection.
“Please don't hurt her. She can't walk very well,” I begged, reaching under his fingers to take her back.
He held the dog high up in the air, out of my reach. His brothers laughed as I jumped up to try to get her. He turned around to face them, swinging her back and forth and laughing.
“Hey, Nhon and Hieu, run back and catch the crippled dog,” he yelled out to them.
I screamed for my mother. My brother began to cry. I watched my dog dangling in his hands, fearing that my voice was not loud enough for my mother to hear. Suddenly, the front door flung open, and the stern voice of my grandfather roared behind me, “Tin, give Kien back his dog. Now!”
Tin froze in the middle of swinging Lulu. I ran to him and peeled her from his clutches. My aunt and uncle rushed out of their house. My mother also appeared, looking annoyed. My aunt looked at her son, then pushed her hands against her bony hips. A hand-rolled cigarette dangled at one corner of her lips.
“What in hell did you scream like a girl for?” my aunt said to me. “It is just a stupid dog. And you too, father. You don't have to yell at my sons to defend him. They are all your grandchildren; you don't always have to pick sides. If you don't want my children to play with your precious grandchild, just say so. But don't yell at them.”
My mother walked toward me with a look so dark and severe it paralyzed me. She whacked my face with her open hand. Stars exploded into a thousand specks in my head. “It is about this dog again,” she shrieked. “Why is it, Kien? Why can't you just get along with your cousins? Why do you have to make things so difficult for me?” She kept on yelling. “Don't you understand the stress that I am under; or do you ever consider that I might not be able to take it anymore?”
My grandfather shouted at my mother, “Don't hit him! It is not his fault. He was just playing with his brother. Don't take your anger out on your son. Let him be.”
My mother walked toward my cousin and touched his head gently. “Don't mind Grandpa,” she told him. “He is old, and he doesn't mean to yell at you, okay? And forgive your cousins. They are just bastard children. And maybe you don't believe this, but trust me, these weaklings can't possibly harm you or your family, so you can stop hating them.”
My aunt pulled her son away from my mother's caress. She pushed him toward her house, threw my mother another sneer, then disappeared after him.
My mother turned to face me. “Don't you dare cause another scene today,” was all she said to me before she went back inside.
I sat down on the ground, hugging my dog, and instantly forgot the awful pain my mother's hand had left on my face. Jimmy knelt on the ground, watching me with concern. A tear still remained in his eyes, but he was already laughing. Lulu lifted her little snout. Her tongue found the red mark on my cheek and licked it. On the front steps, my grandfather shook his head. He sat down on the stoop, watching us through the rest of the morning.
That afternoon, after waking up from a nap, I couldn't find Lulu. I jumped up from my bed, expecting to find her with my brother. Instead, I found him alone sleeping on his bed. I searched every corner in the room, but she was nowhere in sight. My mother stood at the door, looking at me calmly. My frantic search seemed to annoy her, because after a few minutes, she said quietly to me, “If you are looking for that dog of yours, you can stop now. I gave it away.”
I searched her face for an explanation. “What do you mean?” Then I understood and I stammered, “Why, Mommy? I was good. I didn't get into any more trouble. Why would you do something like that? Who did you give my dog to?”
She did not answer me, but someone else did. From outside, I could hear a faint yet familiar cry—the sound of my dog. I ran to the window and saw my cousins playing in their garden. Tin grabbed the back of Lulu's neck in his hand. Her paws were dangling in the air.
“No,” I screamed. Tears flowed from my eyes. My chest felt so tight that I could barely breathe.
Tin looked up to grin at me. He pulled the dog up close to his face, ignoring her yelps as he called out, “Watch me, half-breed. This dog is mine.”
My knees were weak as I turned to my mother, “Please, Mommy. Get her back. Please. I beg you. I'll do anything you want, just get her back.”
“Get away from the window. She doesn't belong to you anymore,” my mother said.
I heard my aunt's sour voice raised to her children. “I don't understand you boys. Why did you insist on getting that lame mutt? It doesn't even walk straight.”
Tin answered his mother, “We are using it for football, Mother.”
From the window, I could hear his every word, cutting through me like a sharp knife.
“Get rid of it.” His mother laughed.
I screamed out with fright. Looking at my mother as my last hope, I cried, “No, don't let them kill her, Mommy.”
“Shut up,” she shouted at me. “You have lost so much more than that, but I never saw you drop a tear. Why do you cry now? And for what, a stupid dog? Get away from the window and toughen up.” She turned her back to me.
Outside, Tin threw my Lulu into the air. Her little body flew upward. Before she could land on the ground, he aimed a kick at her side that tossed her across the garden toward one of his brothers. The puppy did not make any noise. His punt knocked the air from her lungs with a hollow sound. A trail of her vomit flew through the air like splashes of white paint.
I ran out the door, pushing past my mother, no longer caring about anything but my dog. My mother grasped me by my upper arm, pulling me back. “Stop!” she screamed, and began to cry.
My grandparents appeared by the entrance of their room.
“Look what you've done,” my grandfather said. “Why are you destroying him?”
“Daddy, you stay out of this.” My mother wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, sniffing loudly. “You are wrong, I am not destroying him. I am teaching him to be a man. There is a difference in how we view things, so please, leave us alone.”
From outside, the sound of Lulu's body being kicked back and forth became duller and further away, until it disintegrated among the laughter of my cousins. I fell on the floor, exhausted.
Long after everybody had left the room, I still lay on the floor. My mind was clear of all thoughts, except for an image of a green field, with nobody, no scent, and certainly no sound. I envisioned myself running barefoot on the soft bed of grass, feeling the sun's warm touch all over me. It was Jimmy who snapped me back to reality.
“Kien, get up. Mommy wants you,” he said with concern. “It's time for dinner.”
I remained quiet for a while, feeling the grass withdraw from under me until there was nothing left but a hard floor. Jimmy tugged at me to get up, offering a helpful hand. My thoughts returned to Lulu, to her wet nose, her warm breath, and her soft tongue each time she licked my face. Tears flooded my eyes, and the anger coursed though me once again, making me straighten up. Reaching for a lantern on the nearby table, I walked outside and into the garden.
My brother ran beside me, pulling at my arm. “Kien, where are you going? Come back. Mommy is going to get mad again.”
“Leave me alone, Jimmy. I don't care anymore.” I told him.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“Looking for my dog,” I answered.
“She is dead, Kien. I saw Tin throw her body in the trash.”
I turned around and clutched his shoulders. “Where? What trash?” I demanded.
He pointed at a place out in the garden, a dark corner filled with dead leaves that my uncle reserved to fertilize his garden. Above it grew a large guava tree, with black and torturous branches reaching out against the sky. The vine behind the tree had grown into a thick web of greenery that allowed no light to penetrate. In the dark, the tree had become a monster in disguise, with clawed hands and webbed feet, guarding the ground. Fear did not prevent me from venturing closer. Behind me, my brother jumped as my mother's voice called out to us from inside the house.
“Jimmy, get inside, please,” I told him. “Don't get in trouble because of me.”
“I can't go back alone,” he said. “I am staying here with you.”
“She will beat you if you don't listen to me.”
Jimmy bit his lower lip but somehow decided to stay with me. I walked further into the garden. From where we stood, I could see my mother's silhouette against the window frame. She made no attempt to get us back inside.
T
he night was cool. My uncle had watered the garden, and the dampness from the ground saturated the air. From between the branches, the sound of a bird's wing fluttering in its sleep tickled the night. To Jimmy and me, the sound became the panting of some vicious monster, lurking behind the bushes. We walked forward in the dark, holding each other's hand. The lantern burned weakly in front of me, showing just a few feet of ground. I could hear the sound of my cousins quarreling at their dinner table, and their mother trying to quiet them.
When we came to the heap of dead leaves, I searched for my dog's remains while my brother stood next to me, holding the lantern in both hands. It did not take me long to find Lulu, half-buried under the leaves. In the flickering light, I saw her lying on her side with her mouth open. Even in death, she had a look of surprise on her face. One of her eyes was smashed cruelly into her head, darkened with blood. Blood also was visible from other orifices, running down her body like black paint. Her deformed paw was pulled across her snout, as though she had tried to protect herself from the assault. The rest of Lulu was wet with some unexplained fluid, possibly her urine, or her vomit, or even the water my uncle had sprayed on his garden. I picked her up with both hands, ignoring the slime my fingers came in contact with. Death had kissed her long and hard with its frozen lips, and her body was stiff. I held her in my arms, hoping the warmth of my body could bring her back to life. Ignoring my brother's presence, I wept uncontrollably. With Lulu in my arms, I walked toward the front lawn. I had chosen a burial site for Lulu—a strip of land under the cherry tree overlooking the street.
My brother followed me without speaking. As soon as I picked up a small shovel to dig into the soft earth, he took a spade and began to help me. An unexpected noise behind a bush startled us both.
“Who is it?” I shrieked out in fright.
From behind the wall that separated our property from the one next door emerged a boy about my age, hiding his hands in his pockets. In the dark, I could see the outline of his face, directing a curious glance in our direction.
“Nobody.” He stepped out into the light, and I could see him. Most of his face was hidden under the long strands of black hair. An extra-large T-shirt wrapped around his thin body and extended down to his knees like a muumuu. He was barefoot. Cocking his head to one side, the boy asked, “What are you two doing?”
“Burying Kien's dog,” my brother answered.
“Really? Can I help?”
Jimmy looked at me, and I nodded my approval to the boy. He was the only friendly person I had encountered in a long time, and the urge for a friendship prompted me to want to accept him.
“Let's go open the gate,” I told my brother.
The boy waved his hands to decline my offer and said, “No need to, I'll just climb over the wall.” He continued matter-of-factly, “I did this a million times before your family moved here, usually to steal your uncle's guavas.”