The Unwanted (21 page)
Despite everything, I broke out laughing.
“On the way home, he was so relieved that we'd saved him, he promised to return the favor one day.”
Jimmy stopped to finish his sugar-cane drink. “Please,” he continued, “mention the story to him and his wife. Make them agree to our condition before you sell them my Lou. Otherwise, don't do it!”
“I will, I promise.”
“Okay,” he said, sighing.
He lifted my sister to his back. She flattened her greasy pillow against the nape of his neck and rested her head. As usual, the dog strutted a few feet ahead of us, sniffing the ground as we went.
Jimmy turned to me. “Kien,” he said tensely.
“Yes?”
“If Mom doesn't come back —”
“I thought you didn't want to talk about that.”
“I don't. But just in case, what are we going to do?”
“I don't have any idea.”
“You are not going to abandon us, are you?” he asked.
I looked at my brother. Just nine years old, he looked like an old man, depleted and out of breath. Beads of perspiration hung at the tips of his hair. Shaking my head, I answered, “I would never leave you. I promise we'll stay together.”
A
t the entrance to our village, Jimmy stopped, sighed, and readjusted BeTi on his back. “I am taking her home. You take care of Lou; make sure that they understand the agreement.”
I lifted my sister off Jimmy's back. “Let's forget the whole thing. I can't do what you are asking me. We'll manage somehow.”
It was dark. The streets were empty, flickering with fireflies in the bushes. The alley that led to our compound seemed endless, but the longer we walked, the stronger the smell of my uncle's ripe guavas became. My brother's dog whined softly as we approached our front door, and Jimmy patted it between the ears to keep it silent. Both houses were lit up. There were many shadows in my grandparents' bedroom. From a window, someone spotted us and let out a blood-curdling scream.
The town commander, Mr. Qui Ba, ran out the front door, followed by my mother. Behind them were Mrs. Dang and a few policemen. My mother burst into tears upon seeing us. Flooded with emotion, we held on to each other. I could feel my sister struggle to get air. My mother's body trembled.
She picked up my sister, noticed the ugly bruises on my face, and demanded an explanation. Under the pale streetlights, I showed her the bumps and contusions Tin had left on my back while Jimmy relived the potato story. Her face registered pain and anger, making her skin redden like blazing coal.
Turning to Mr. Qui Ba, my mother wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The community leader seemed lost in thought with his eyebrows knitted together. She cleared her throat. “You saw what has happened. Please do something to help us. I demand satisfaction.”
He started. “What are you asking, Khuon? You were gone for nine days, leaving your children behind. We all thought you had abandoned them. Report to the community center tomorrow—maybe we can deal with this issue then. However, now is not a good time; it is getting dark, and your children are safe. Please go to bed.”
Ignoring his advice, my mother marched straight to my aunt's house and pushed the front door open. With her hands on her hips, she faced their living room and yelled out Tin's name. Her voice penetrated the dark, without the slightest trace of fear.
In her room, Moonlight woke up and began to cough. My aunt's voice yelled back at my mother, “What are you doing, screaming like that? Can't you wait till tomorrow to settle things with him?” She appeared from her bedroom, where she had shared a bed with her youngest four daughters for the past several years.
“I want to settle things now,” my mother screamed.
“All right, then,” my aunt screamed back. “Tin, come out here, now.”
“Listen, ladies,” Mr. Qui Ba interrupted. “Stop making a scene. I don't want to arrest any of you.”
A light switch clicked, and light flooded the living room. Tin walked nervously out to face my mother. She glared at him, then at his parents.
“You almost killed my son today,” she said, “over three small pieces of potato. Were my children's lives that cheap to you? Look around you, what do you see?”
Tin shifted on his feet uneasily.
“What do you see?” she asked Tin once more, but decided to answer the question herself. “All of this, the house, the furniture, even the food that is still stuck between your teeth, all came from me. That's right. Just ask your incompetent parents if you want to know. You may not have any respect for me, or any feeling for my children, but you cannot deny the fact that your existences are made possible because of this lowly prostitute. Don't you dare ever touch any of my children again! The next time I see you lay a finger on them, I will torch this entire place. Compared to you, I have nothing to lose, so don't back me into a corner.”
“And you —” she pointed a finger at my aunt, who was pale with embarrassment—“each time you told me that I am your only sister, in my heart, I truly wanted to believe you, but I won't anymore. It always ends up hurting too much. Today, your son beat mine to within an inch of death. I am terminating this relationship, sister. From this point on, we are just two unfortunate families sharing a well and a shit house.” She stamped her foot for emphasis. “Take a close look at your life if you dare. Do you understand why you allow your children to harass mine? Jealousy, that's why. You are jealous of the fact that all of your fourteen children could never measure up in Daddy's eyes as much as one half-breed of mine. It hurts, doesn't it? Knowing that your children can never be good enough. But how could they? Just look at them, and the parents that gave life to them. I sincerely hope that I never have to see your face again.”
My mother took us back to our house, slamming the door behind her. Mrs. Dang followed us. The community leader and his men stood in my aunt's garden. He quickly regained his composure and shouted after my mother, “Khuon, report to my office tomorrow morning.”
Turning to us, my mother noticed my sister's sickly face for the first time. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she asked.
“Food,” BeTi moaned.
“Of course, what am I thinking?” she exclaimed. “We are going to the noodle shop. Dang, would you like to accompany us?”
T
he noodle shop was fifteen minutes from our home, next to an old buffalo farm. Behind it, gleaming under the pale streetlight, were railroad tracks. The stench of animal dung mixed with the smell of grilled pork in the air. The shop was an annex of somebody's kitchen, extended into the garden with a couple of large tables and a few benches. The owner was a middleaged woman with an overwhelming smell of curry and burned fat in her clothes. She sat on a small wooden stool cleaning a pig carcass by the well. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a tight bun and held on top of her head by a single porcupine quill. At her feet lay an aluminum pan filled with cooked sausages, some of which spilled over the side and floated above the muddy ground. The pig's belly bore a longitudinal cut that extended from throat to tail, gaping between her expert hands to reveal a bloody darkness within. In the dimly lit kitchen, two pots of broth boiled fervently over the stoves, sending the odors of spices, fish, and meat into the night.
We sat on a bench. The shop lady stopped, washed her hands in a basin, and took my mother's order with a bored look. “Would you like some snacks?” she asked.
“No, thank you. Just three bowls of Peking duck soup for the kids, the largest portions that you have.”
“You two ladies are not eating?” She looked at my mother and Mrs. Dang.
They shook their heads in unison.
At a table next to us sat a half-naked local prostitute and her customer. They clung together with legs crisscrossed and arms locked like a pair of Siamese twins, slurping their noodles loudly. My mother sat at the edge of the bench, playing with my short hair.
“Where did you go this afternoon?” she asked.
“I took Jimmy and BeTi to see Loan.”
“You are very smart for an eleven-year-old boy, Kien,” she remarked. “What made you think of going to see her?”
“I didn't know where else to go, but I knew we had to get away from the house.”
“What happened at Loan's?”
The lady returned with a tray full of food. The bowls she set in front of us had faded flowers painted on them. Steam rose from the rich, tawny broth, burning my face with its vapors. My stomach gave a violent twist, and my mouth ached from salivating too quickly. I collected myself by giving my soup a twist of lemon.
At the next table, the prostitute suddenly sat up, screaming into the dark yard with a harsh voice. “Get out of here, you whores.” On her naked shoulders and arms, tiny sores bloomed like red carnations in spring. “Stop following me everywhere.”
The soup lady shrugged. “Her children,” she explained to us matter-of-factly. “They come here every night to watch their mother eat. And every night she kicks them away.”
“I don't see anyone,” Jimmy said.
“Of course you don't,” the woman answered. “They are too black to be seen, but they are out there.”
I looked out into the thick night. There was not a star in the sky, not a streetlight in the alley. Yet, I could see two pairs of eyes burning at us like hungry wolves.
“American mixed?” Mrs. Dang asked.
She nodded. “The ‘burnt-rice’ kind.”
“That's too cruel,” my mother remarked. “Why didn't the mother just give them away if she doesn't want them?”
“Well, folks, don't think she hasn't tried.” The soup lady mused. “That wretched woman sold most of her kids as soon as they sprouted their first baby teeth. Those two she couldn't sell. They are black girls. Who wants them?” My mother didn't answer. “I'll tell you something even sadder than this,” the woman continued. “A few months ago, she lost a child, an older sister of those two, about ten, eleven years old. The girl used to come around here begging for food. They grabbed her one day. It happened right here down this street. Three men. They had some sort of agreement with the mother, buying the kid's virginity. Well, they took her to that deserted farm next door. One of them put his you-know-what in her mouth while the other two pinned her down. The poor child didn't know, so instead of pleasing him, she bit down on it.”
My mother interrupted her, looking at us. “Eat your soup, kids. Don't listen to the adult conversation!”
Mrs. Dang spoke up. “I've heard about that story. They killed her with a rock.”
“That's right,” the woman agreed. “Smashed her head like a bug. Nobody heard her screaming. The train was too loud when that happened. Then they paid the mother to keep her mouth shut. The police couldn't find the killers, and the girl died in vain. No one cared.”
“I remember that little girl,” Mrs. Dang said thoughtfully. “Her hair was so bushy, it looked like a beehive from afar.”
“It got shaved the day before she died,” the soup lady said. “It was so kinky, anything that fell into it disappeared. They got all kinds of stuff out of her head; you name it, toothbrushes, combs, paperclips, rubber bands, and God knows what else. I tell you, your children are lucky that they are white. At least they have a chance to live. The burnt-rice have only bad luck.”
I finished the soup and laid the empty bowl back on the table. My sister lapped at her soup slowly like a kitten. My mother looked at me in astonishment. “You ate so fast. Would you like to have another bowl?”
I hesitated. “Why don't you eat, Mom?”
“I am not hungry,” she said.
“What happened to you, mother? Why did it take you so long to come home?”
She avoided my stare. “You don't want to know.”
“Of course I do. You were all we could think about. You went to Saigon, right?”
“We got arrested in Saigon for trading without a license.” Her eyes fixed on her nails. “The real let-down wasn't the jail time we had to serve, but we lost all of the money.”
“What happened?”
“How in hell should I know? We were having breakfast at the market when I noticed this Chinese guy sitting across my table. I thought I recognized him as a merchant. Dang and I went over, making small talk.”
“Small talk?”
“Business talk. The next thing I know was, he pulled out a gun and handcuffs and arrested us in the middle of the crowd. We were thrown in jail.”
I pushed the empty bowl away. “Maybe I shouldn't eat anymore, Mom. You don't have much money.”
“Don't worry,” Mrs. Dang interjected. “I have a couple of red Chairman Ho's left in my pocket. You kids go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”
LATER THAT NIGHT
, after she had put BeTi and Jimmy to bed in my grandparents' room, my mother came to say good night to me. She sat on the edge of my bed, looking at me through eyes filled with pain. The once highly maintained beauty had long abandoned my mother's face, leaving behind a mask of naked desperation. For a moment, I couldn't recognize who she was, and the confusion stirred up panic in me.
“What would you have done if I had never come back?” she asked.
“I don't know, Mother,” I told her. “I'd have waited for your return.”
“What if I didn't come back?”
“Why wouldn't you? You have responsibilities.”
“I couldn't be responsible for you if I were dead. That could happen sometime. If it did, what would you do, Kien?”
“I don't know. Please stop asking me these questions. Just tell me what to do,” I cried out in fear. “We were going to beg for food if you didn't come back. Jimmy wanted to sell Lou, but we couldn't.”
My mother burst into tears. “Would you abandon your brother and sister?”
“No.”
“My poor boy.” She reached out to hug me, and I could taste her tears mixed with mine. “I want you to know that if the thought of walking out on them did cross your mind, you don't have to be ashamed of it. I understand.” She lifted the sleeve of her blouse to wipe her eyes. “It's all right now. I am here, and you are safe. So go to sleep.”
As she left, I called out to her.
“Yes, darling.” She turned to face me. “What is it?”