The Unwanted (16 page)

In the last few months of my mother's pregnancy, the stress was heavy for all of us. With nobody in my family working, she was forced to live off her jewelry. Her term also did not go as smoothly as she had hoped. More than twice in the last month, she experienced complications. The last bout of bleeding came with severe cramping, which led her to believe that the baby was coming prematurely. In her panic, she rushed to the hospital, where the incident proved to be a false alarm. She particularly regretted the waste of money, which she could ill afford.

At about this time, the town leader summoned Lam for fifteen days of community service, which would entail hard labor in a jungle fifty kilometers from town. Lam refused to go. To keep us from getting into trouble, my mother hired one of my cousins to replace him. The whole matter might have passed without anyone's notice. However, that unlucky day, the town leader accidentally discovered the crafty substitution when he was looking to nominate Lam as the group's guide. He found my cousin Le instead of Lam.

Even though Lam survived the incident with no significant trouble, the conflict between my family and Mr. Qui Ba, the town leader, took a new turn. To the commander, my mother's ability to hire a stand-in raised the possibility that my family was still withholding some fortune from the government. The situation pushed my mother and Lam further apart, so that now they hardly spoke a word to each other. Someone in town observed to her that they no longer appeared to be a couple at all.

With every new day, my mother grew more restless and disturbed. The incessant rain and the tension of her advancing pregnancy erased any tolerance she had for petty irritations.

One evening at dinnertime, we sat together on the floor eating some salty fish with rice, prepared by my grandmother. Since Loan left, my grandmother had taken over the household chores of cooking, cleaning, and doing the laundry. If her arthritis had allowed, my grandmother could have been a good cook. But mostly, like that night, we were stuck with white rice and dried fish for dinner.

Lam spoke up to my mother, who sat on the opposite side of him and was eating calmly. “Look at me,” he said.

My mother continued to eat her food as if nothing happened. Jimmy, on the other hand, jumped up with fear, looking at both of them. I held on to my brother's hands, knowing that he was on the verge of tears.

My mother's silence enraged Lam even more, and he yelled louder, “Why don't you look at me?” He slammed his fist to the floor. “I am not going to take this abuse any longer.” Again, my mother's only response was an exaggerated detachment.

“Don't toy with me, dirty whore.” In his vehemence, the insult came out as a hoarse cry. He threw his half-eaten bowl of rice at my mother and marched outside to light a cigarette. Specks of rice spilled onto my mother's long hair and on her face, but she made no attempt to brush them off. Next to me, Jimmy began to cry.

Sometime that night, Lam crept into my bed. Lying asleep on my stomach, I was not fully aware of his presence until my body was crushed by his weight. His hands covered my mouth, preventing me from making a sound. I woke up groggily, not understanding what was happening.

His voice whispered next to my ear, “Scream, and I will break your neck.”

At first, I was sure I was having a bad dream, and I struggled to wake up. Lam brought me back to reality by tightening his grip on my face. I struggled for air, but I was not strong enough to break away from his grasp, and I felt myself suffocating. Surely, I was going to die.

“Please,” I screamed in my head. I felt my brain swell like a balloon that was ready to explode. I wondered if Lulu had felt a terror of this sort before she died. Weakened, I stopped fighting. As soon as I ceased to move, Lam released his fingers to allow some air to rush back into my lungs. Eagerly, I sucked in life, choking on my own phlegm.

“Listen to me and listen good, little muck,” he said in a hushed tone. “Someday when you grow up, if you ever have to blame this on anyone, blame it on your mother. She started this war first, the moment she destroyed my unborn child.” His voice was nearby, but it sounded far away. Nevertheless, I understood what he said, as it seeped into my soul like ink.

Outside, the night had deepened, with the moon beaming through the window. Its light drenched everything in the room, including the thick, clawlike fingers around my neck. Lam peeled the bottom of my pajama off, taking off his own clothes with one hand, while continuing to hold me with the other. I was scared and humiliated yet did not understand what Lam was about to do. In my confusion and panic, I felt paralyzed. Suddenly, a deep pain soared through my body in waves, while Lam grunted and rocked on top of me. I wanted to scream but could not. My will to cry was gone and all that was left in me was an emptiness that grew bigger and colder with every minute.

Before he climbed off my body, Lam waved his fist in my face. “Keep this between you and me, boy, and maybe I will be more gentle next time. And if you are stupid enough to tell your mother about this, I will go after your brother next.”

He did not need to warn me about keeping my mouth shut. The shame and isolation I felt were not feelings I wanted to share with anyone. I lay with my head buried in the pillows, listening to his footsteps as he left, and trying hard to block out the humiliation that was eroding my soul.

Long after he left, I remained naked and motionless on my bed. My mind was empty. I retreated into a white cocoon, just like death, cold and vacant, and at that moment it was the only comfort I could find.

THE NEXT DAY
I stayed in bed late with the sheet over my head. When it was time for breakfast, my mother came in to look for me. She found me shaking silently under the bedspread. Worried, she pulled the covers off to examine me. I stared past her face into the space beyond the ceiling.

Grasping me in one of her hands, she slapped me with the other and screamed, “Kien, get up.” When I remained unresponsive, her panic increased. “What is going on? Talk to me. What is happening to you? Oh, God, where is the blood coming from?”

Her hysteria pulled me back into the room, where everybody was staring at me with curiosity. Sprawled across his bed, Lam watched me. His dark look jerked me out of my stupor.

“I'm—I'm fine, Mommy,” I stammered. “I am just a little tired.”

“Where does this blood come from? Where are you bleeding, Kien?” she asked, touching the dried stain on my bedspread.

“He is fine,” Lam interrupted. “Just leave him alone.” His eyes never left my face as he spoke to her. “Early this morning, his nose bled a little bit. I helped him take care of it already. Right, Kien?”

I nodded. My mother, however, was not convinced. She frowned with skepticism.

“Nosebleed?” she asked. “Impossible, he never had a nosebleed before. Are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure,” he assured her. “Leave the boy alone to rest. If his condition doesn't get better, we'll take him to the hospital, okay?”

His words seemed to calm my mother, and she laid me back down on my pillows. He took her by her shoulder and led her outside.

Soon after, Lam returned, pulling the sheet off me. “Get up, and out of bed,” he said. “You have to convince your mother that you are not sick. Otherwise, she'll find out what a little tramp you were last night, and then I won't be about to cover for you anymore.” He pushed me out of my bedroom and into the front lawn.

For several minutes, I sat on the front steps, holding on to my belly. The pain inside me was excruciating. I could also feel the blood oozing into my underwear, and its odor nauseated me. From the other side of the wall, Duy waved, beckoning me to come over. Gathering myself, I played with him and Goofy for the rest of the day and did not return home until dinner.

That night, my mother came to tuck me in. Her soft hand rested on my forehead, checking my temperature. In his bed, Lam watched us through his half-shut eyes. His presence made me anxious.

“How are you feeling, Kien?” she asked me.

“Fine,” I answered her.

“Are you sure? You don't look fine to me.” There was a moment of silence before she went on in a voice filled with worry. “Tell me what's wrong. It has been several weeks, you can't possibly still be upset about Lulu.”

Instead of answering her, I closed my eyes, pretending to fall asleep.

“Listen,” she said, “this is very hard for me to do, but I promise to get you another dog tomorrow if you promise to get well.”

I opened my eyes. Under the dim light, my mother's face sagged with new creases. There were tears in her eyes. I shook my head at her suggestion.

“You don't want another dog?” she asked.

“No.”

“Tell me what you want then. The butcher's dog just had a litter. I already told him to reserve a puppy for you. What am I going to do with the puppy if you don't want it?”

“Give it to Jimmy,” I suggested to her, and added, “Mommy, I don't want another dog.”

“Okay, if you are sure. But please be well. I need you.”

My mother kissed me good night and turned off the lantern on her way out. Once she left the room, I became paralyzed with fear. In the dark, I anticipated Lam's approach with every fiber in my body. At last, his snoring sawed into the silent room, and then I heard him mumble something unintelligible in his dream.

I crawled out of bed, holding a pillow in my hands. Quietly, I tiptoed out of the room and into the garden.

Outside, dark clouds hung low above the trees, warning of the coming rain. Trees transformed into monsters, chanting in eerie rhapsody. Again, to my active imagination, everything in the garden materialized into weird forms around me. Even so, it was a much less threatening place than my bedroom.

I lay down on my back near the house. About ten feet above me, a corrugated scaffold concealed most of my view of the sky. A short distance away, Lulu's grave lay hidden in the ground. Her presence somewhat softened my anxiety, and I began to relax. Sleep came quickly, but not for long. From the depth of my subconscious, I recalled Lam's threats: “Hey, Kien,” his voice echoed, “I will go after your brother next. I will go after your brother next. I will go after…”

I jolted from the cold ground and ran back inside. Drawing a deep breath, I sneaked past Lam's bed in my bare feet. Deep in his own dream, my brother was not aware of my presence until I was next to him. I shook him awake, keeping him from making any noises with the palm of my hand. Jimmy opened his big eyes to stare at me.

“Get up, and come with me,” I whispered in his ear.

“Kien?” his eyes blinked, but he did not yell. Matching my whisper, he asked me, “Where are we going?”

“Don't ask any questions. Just take your pillow and follow me.”

I helped him out of bed and guided him outside to the front porch. Jimmy did not ask any more questions, only looked at me with his trusting eyes. I told him to lie down on the pavement, and I lay next to him, holding him in my arms to shield him from the cold air as much as I could. We fell asleep holding on to each other as the rain began to fall. The scaffold kept the raindrops from reaching us through most of the night.

The next morning, my mother was furious to discover that we were not in our beds. She yelled into our faces, jolting us from our sleep.

“Wake up. Why are you sleeping in the rain?”

We jumped up, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, kids,” she moaned. “Why are you such a problem for me? Tell me what I have done to deserve this? And you,” she turned to me, “don't you remember anything I told you last night?”

Behind her were my grandparents, holding on to the door and looking at us with worry. On the floor, Jimmy sneezed. His face was covered in sweat and reddened with fever.

“Look what you have done,” my mother cried. “Your brother is getting sick.” She picked him up in her arms and snarled to me, “Get inside. I am going to kill both of you.”

She put Jimmy in bed and shifted her attention to me. “Was it your idea taking your brother outside last night?” she asked.

Fearfully, I nodded.

“I knew it,” she shrieked. “Are you crazy, or are you rebelling against me?” She grabbed my shoulders. Her fingernails found their familiar way into my flesh.

“I am sorry,” I cried out in pain. “I got scared last night.”

“Why? What are you afraid of?”

“I don't know, Mommy.”

“Stop! He is just a child, for God's sake,” my grandfather broke in. “Haven't your children gone through enough already? Give them some time to adjust to the new situation, please. The child must have a reason why he got so scared. Why don't you find out from him instead of beating him up like he was your enemy?”

“He is spoiled, Daddy,” she barked. “He is making the other one sick, and I can't even imagine what other stunts he is going to pull next. What am I supposed to do?”

“Stop yelling,” my grandfather said. “Something must be terribly wrong for my grandchildren to leave their warm beds in the middle of the night and sleep on the cold dirt outside. Let me ask him.” Turning to me, he lowered his voice to almost inaudible. “Kien, tell Grandpa why you didn't stay in your bed last night. Why did you sleep outside like the homeless people? What are you running away from?”

I did not answer him. Strength ebbed from my body, leaving my face hot with dizziness. I leaned against the wall for support.

My grandfather sighed with frustration. Turning to my mother, he spoke with unusual vigor.

“This is a new plan,” he said. “From now on, Kien is going to sleep with me, and Jimmy is staying with Grandma for a while. Would this make you feel better, my boy?”

I nodded. Satisfied, my grandfather retreated back into his bedroom. From his bed, Lam sucked his teeth noisily and stepped outside. My mother muttered with annoyance, “I hope you are not spoiling them, Father.” She then also went out, pounding her feet on the ground with frustration.

At the front door, the butcher appeared with a small puppy, resting peacefully in the palms of his hands. No one paid any attention to him, except for my brother. He got up from his bed, reaching out to receive the dog from the butcher's hands with a small cry of happiness.