Part 13 (1/2)

”Maybe you're wondering, Is he fair game?” says Ginny, helpfully. ”Maybe you're asking, What really is G.o.d's will here?”

No one says anything.

”It's a reasonable question, after all,” she goes on. ”It'd be plain unnatural not to wonder, What is He trying to tell us? Is He sending us a message?”

”Oh!” says Candy, finally.

Hattie considers her glazed chicken.

”You don't have to answer,” says Greta.

”You don't have to agree,” says Grace.

”I shouldn't have said anything,” says Beth.

”I don't own him,” says Hattie-casual enough, she thinks. Though what a blocked thing her energy is suddenly-her q. A thing with a life of its own. Or, no-a lifelessness of its own, as Lee used to say, of her own flagging q, toward the end. It has a lifelessness of its own.

I'm going to miss you, Hattie told her then. I am. I'm going to miss you every single day.

To which Lee fluttered her lashless eyelids and moved her lips behind her oxygen mask and said, Swab. Wanting her mouth swabbed.

Swab.

”You're a generous woman,” concludes Ginny.

Hattie doesn't answer, but she does manage to meet Ginny's green eyes for a moment. For thine is the power and the hogwash.

Flora is wearing all white today, like a cloud or a nurse.

”Here,” she says suddenly, sliding a cup of coffee in front of Hattie; her white s.h.i.+rt flashes bright in the sun. ”It's on the house.” And when Hattie looks up at her wonderingly, she just shrugs. ”It's what I have to give,” she says, then turns.

Sophy: How They Even Got Here.

When Sophy's dad was happy, he would explain stuff like how a country needs two wheels. ”Can't you see how people have two eyes, two ears, two hands?” he would say in Khmer, pointing to his own eyes and ears and hands. ”Our land needs two wheels. One is the wheel of the Dhamma-that is the Buddhist wheel, the Eightfold Path, the Way. The other is the wheel of law. If the wheel of law is not strong, the cart cannot go. If the wheel of the Dhamma is not strong, the cart cannot go, either. When Pol Pot came, the wheel of the Dhamma was okay, but the wheel of law was no good. Because of all the corruption,” he would say. ”You probably don't know what that means, corruption. But one day you will know. One day.” And then he would go on to say how, like, in the olden days, Cambodians were lords of all their neighbors, and had reading and writing and poetry and irrigation, and, like, how everything would have been great except that the Thais came, and then the Cham, and then the j.a.panese-or maybe the j.a.panese were the Chinese? Anyway, it was hard for Sophy to understand. Like did they all just wake up one day and think, Let's invade Cambodia? Because it was wack, it really was, the way that, after that the French came and after that the Vietnamese and, like, no one thought, Man, that is so copycat. Like no one thought, That is a thousand-year-old idea, man. They just thought, Let's do it!

The point being that it wasn't just because of Pol Pot that Sophy's family was wack. It was also because the wheel of law was broken because of corruption and invasions, and because there wasn't enough money to send her dad and his brother and sister all to school, just one of them. Which was why Sophy's uncle went to public school for a couple of years, but then stayed in the village and had a vegetable farm like his sister who didn't get to go to school at all, while Sophy's dad got to go from the public school to a temple school with monks because he was the oldest. And then from the temple school he went to a school in the city, and then he got a big deal job as an engineer and grew a potbelly like a rich person and took a fancy name and started talking like somebody from Phnom Penh instead of from Battambang. Like he started doing the whole m' Penh clip 'n' dip thing. And he married a Chinese Cambodian because he was Chinese Cambodian, which was obvious. Like if you ever saw him sitting in front of the TV, you'd see how he has pale skin and c.h.i.n.ky eyes, and kind of an oval face like Sophy's sister Sophan's, it isn't round like Mum's and Sophy's, and her sister Sopheap's. That's because all four of his grandparents were from China, and if his brother or his sister or any of his cousins were alive they would all be, like, eating Chinese food. Of course, if you asked a lot of regular Cambodians what food is the best, they'd all say Chinese too, but they'd say it in kind of a different voice than Sophy's dad-like, not as though Chinese food was their food, but more like they had to admit it, even if they only liked Chinese Cambodians a little more than they liked the Vietnamese, who they hated. But anyway, because Sophy's dad was educated and Chinese Cambodian he married another Chinese Cambodian who was, like, rich and beautiful and tall. She had skin as white as cotton, and she didn't move all her parts at once, but would, like, turn her head, and then smile, and then pick up her teacup, and then nod. She drank cafe au lait like a foreigner, and not only could she read and write Khmer, she knew French too, and Chinese. Her French was so good that she didn't have to repeat things the way other people did when they were talking to French people, and that really impressed Sophy's dad. But what really really got him was her Chinese, because his grandparents spoke Teochew dialect and his parents knew a little, but he hardly knew any. And here she could not only speak Teochew dialect and Cantonese, because her family were city people, but Mandarin too-like, she even knew the characters, which if you think Khmer script is bad, is even worse. Like practically n.o.body can read them besides people in China. And that was why, when they got married, Sophy's dad went and stood on the graves of his ancestors, and told them, and why a flower opened up right near the graves that very moment. Like he turned, and there was this blooming flower that had been closed just a moment before, a white one. Of course, when Sophy and Sopheap and Sophan heard that story later, they were, like, And the flower just opened? Are you sure? Like what kind of flower was that? Not that they would have said that out loud, because that would have been, like, big time disrespectful. But anyway, their dad said that that was one of the happiest moments of his life, and they did believe that, because he never looked the way he looked telling that story at any other time, ever.

And even now he talks about his first wife as if she is their real mother, it's like Sophy's mom just somehow ended up giving birth to them by mistake. Like he talks about how things would be different if his first wife had lived-like how Sarun would not be involved with gangs and how instead of asking why why why, Sophy and her sisters would be asking stuff like how they could be more polite and how they could show more respect. As if any kids in America ask that! But that's what he thinks. He thinks that if his first wife had lived, everyone would be, like, looking at them and asking, Whose family do those children belong to? Because they were so shy and perfect and obeyed every single thing in the Chbap Srey, which is, like, this stupid book of rules for girls. A lot of kids said their moms used to laugh at the Chbap Srey back in Cambodia, but Sophy's dad's first wife must not have laughed, because she was the book for real. Like she didn't go from sweet and shy to loud and bossy as soon as she got married. Instead she talked softly and walked softly and covered herself and didn't show off, and sat the way you're supposed to sit, with her legs to the side. She was so perfect that sometimes even Sophy thinks if she were alive they would somehow all still be living in Phnom Penh, in the fancy concrete house with two floors that Sophy's dad bought himself. He still talks about it sometimes. Like about the roof garden, and the garage for the car, and the big gate in the garden wall with a guard to open and shut it. Which, like, Sophy and her sisters can't really imagine, because their mom cleans houses and they are poor and dark, even Sophan who looks like their dad is sort of dark. Not as dark as their mom, who is what they call sra'aem, but they don't have skin like cotton either, because their mom is pure Cambodian. Meaning brown skin and round eyes and curly hair, though people always said she was pretty, and pretty rich too, for someone who lived in the countryside. Which was why she was originally married to Sophy's dad's brother. Because her family had, like, a hut with a tile roof instead of straw, and a mango farm, besides; they weren't just, like, rice farmers. Of course, it's sort of wack to think about how Sophy's mom was married to Sophy's uncle before she was sort of married to Sophy's dad. Like Sophy's mom still remembers when Sophy's dad and his first wife and some other people came to live with them after everyone had to leave Phnom Penh, which was pretty rough for everyone but especially for the first wife. Because on the one hand it was pretty lucky that they could go live with Sophy's uncle, like if it weren't for him, Sophy's dad probably wouldn't be alive to remember how great his first wife was and everything. But on the other hand, they all had to sleep in one room and cook their food outside, and eat a lot of things you couldn't really call food while the soldiers threatened to send them to Angka. (Angka being what they called the people who were running the country, they were kind of like the government except that n.o.body voted for them, in fact everyone probably would have voted against them if they could have.) Do you want to go see Angka? the soldiers would say. I think it's time you went to go see Angka. The soldiers took Sophy's dad's first wife for one of the Khmer Rouge to marry even though she was already married, and when she refused to marry him, the Khmer Rouge buried her up to her neck and left her to die. Which she would have, except that Sophy's dad found her and dug her out, and that was so happy! Except that then she couldn't make herself eat, and died anyway. It was the sort of stuff a lot of kids wrote about in their old town, because the teachers wanted them to, all the stories. But if the teachers didn't ask, the kids never would. Because, like, who wanted to write about eating bugs and rats? And people not dying and then dying anyway, or disappearing. Like Angka would take people out for a walk and no one would ever see them again. Or sometimes they'd get killed right in front of your eyes, like a soldier would strangle someone with a plastic bag, or hit them on the back of the head like their dad does to Sarun, only not with a newspaper but with a shovel. Right where the soul was, they would hit them, and then they would bury them even if they weren't dead yet. Like they would just shove them into a pit with, like, a bunch of other bodies and start shoveling.

Even with everything going wrong here, Sophy's glad she didn't live there. It was, like, too wack.

But anyway, after a while all that was left of the family were Sophy's mom and dad, and Sarun. Of course, her mom was not her mom yet. And she didn't know that Sophy's dad (who wasn't her dad yet) was still alive, and he didn't know she was alive either. So they were, like, so happy to find each other in the refugee camp! Because there they were, looking for the same people and crying over the same people. And because she was a woman she had a food ration she could share with him, and once he got stronger he could protect her from the Thai robbers and do a lot of other brave stuff besides. Like he would sneak out of the camp and go to the Thai villages and come back with rice, rolling it up into a piece of cloth so it was like a tube. And he would, like, tie that to his body and run run run past the Thai soldiers, and then he would sneak back into the camp and sell the rice so he was, like, a hero. And then he and Sophy's mom found Sarun, who had n.o.body left to take care of him-like there he was, all by himself, this baby toddling around with all the other orphans, Sophy's dad probably wouldn't have even realized the kid was his sister's son except that he had this scar on his cheek, like a bullet hole. And then even though Sophy's dad had barely seen his family for a long time, Sophy's dad remembered hearing about that scar, and how his sister had said her baby must have been a soldier in his last life. And then it turned out that Sophy's mom had heard about the scar too, though she had never seen the baby either, because he was born during the fighting. And she agreed that it was, like, their fate, to find the baby and save him. So she and Sophy's dad rescued Sarun, and fed him rice so he wasn't starving anymore, and got him medicine so he wasn't sick anymore, and after that they stuck together, the three of them. Because no one else was crying for their family members, and before they found each other they were completely alone in the world, and couldn't even cry. That's what Sophy's mom always says. She says she couldn't even cry until she saw Sophy's dad, a familiar face. And then when she finally cried, she cried so much that when she stopped crying she couldn't see for a long time. Until Sophy's dad told her he had found Sarun, and then she tried to see him, and then she did! And now they have to stick together because they're all that's left, and because it's too complicated to explain to people how Sophy's mom couldn't see for a while, or why she never really married Sophy's dad, or why Sophy and her sisters call Sarun their brother when he isn't their brother. Like who even knows if there are names for what they are, or for their kind of family?

Like what do you call a person who is, like, twins with someone who isn't there? Sophy doesn't think her dad will ever really accept that her mom lived instead of his first wife, it's like Sophy's mom lived by mistake. So that everywhere she goes is somewhere his real wife isn't going, and everything she does is something his real wife isn't doing. And Sophy's dad also lived by mistake, because he was the educated one Angka was trying to kill, the only reason he lived was that Angka messed up and killed the wrong brother. So that even though Sophy's dad didn't die, he sort of got reborn anyway as his brother, into his brother's life, and everything he does is something his brother isn't doing, except that he is sort of doing it, depending on how you look at it.

It's all, like, wack.

Now Sophy's dad is old and has diabetes, which isn't so bad yet, but is going to get worse unless he watches out. Like he should not eat so much white rice, as Sophy knows because she went with him to the health clinic in their old town, and the doctor said to tell him about white rice, it was really important. So she did, she told her dad how white rice will turn right into sugar, and how that's bad for diabetes. And she told him that he should eat brown rice instead, because brown rice does not turn into sugar right away and that's, like, good for diabetes. Of course, even though she was supposed to be translating the hard parts of what the doctor said, she said a lot of the words in English, because she speaks Khmer the way he speaks English, meaning barely, and anyway who even knows if they exist in Khmer, words like simple carbohydrates and complex carbohydrates. Like even if she knew those words in Khmer they would still be in English. And she told him that he should think about it for a while and then look in a mirror and then decide what to eat, because once he told Sophy that that was what it meant to be Cambodian. Like being Cambodian meant everyone living together, and not killing things, but it was also not reacting to things. Like if someone does something to them, he used to say, they should consider that thing. They should ask why did that person do this thing? And what did they do, that this person has done this thing? They should ask that, he used to say. And then they should look in a mirror, and only after thinking about it for a long time, should they decide if they should do something. He used to lean forward with his legs apart and shake his finger in the air at them as he said that, and then sort of swoop his finger quick to the side, as if he was lopping off the head of somebody saying the wrong answer. You shouldn't just react! he would say. Lop! You should think! Lop! You should think! So now she asked him if he would please think about what he eats the way he thinks about what to do. Like she asked him if he would please ask himself why the doctor said those words. Simple carbohydrates. Complex carbohydrates. And, like, she asked him in the very most polite way, with her head down, and in a soft voice, using sweet words, she was, like, all piek p'aem, piek pi'rouah. And she, like, used the respectful form for ”eat,” and did not call him Ouv but Pa. But he just said he did not like brown rice.

”It's expensive,” he explained.

She nodded.

”It doesn't taste like rice,” he explained.

She nodded.

”Cambodians,” he said, ”eat white rice.”

And that was that. Lop! He kept on eating white rice, two bowls with every meal, because he doesn't believe in diabetes, though he does worry about his heart. Like he thinks his heart goes too fast, he's afraid the arteries of his neck are going to explode from blood overload. Or else his chest. He's afraid his chest is going to explode from blood overload. The doctors say chests don't just, like, explode like a bomb, no matter how overloaded they are, but her dad used to so insist and insist his was going to anyway, that in the clinic in their old town Sophy would sometimes just stop translating what he was saying. Like sometimes after a while she would just say, He feels dizzy a lot, and can't breathe. And Dr. Blitzman would nod sympathetically and readjust the end of his tie so it lay flat on his stomach. He wore these special ties with funny things on them like rubber ducks and basketb.a.l.l.s, but when he looked down he mostly just frowned and said things like sure, her dad could certainly take herbal medicine from the kru if he wanted to. Two visits later, though, he would not be surprised to hear it didn't work. He was always telling her dad not to smoke. Like if he wanted to feel better, Dr. Blitzman would say, he should stop. Because that, he said, would work. But then he would just go on to the next patient, because what else could he do? Once he asked Sophy if she knew what burnout was. He wasn't talking about himself, he said. He was talking about the other people in the clinic, and why there weren't enough of them-why the clinic was understaffed. But she still thinks of burnout whenever she thinks of him. She remembers him saying, ”Do you know what burnout is?” And then laughing a little laugh. ”It's what can come of inspiration, if you're not careful.”

It's what can come of inspiration, if you're not careful.

Most days Sophy's dad puts on the big TV and watches sports, yelling and cheering if things are going good and slumping down if things aren't. Like if his team loses he'll turn off the TV and go get himself another beer, and then sometimes he'll sit back down in front of the screen as if he has something to ask it. Of course, the TV does sort of look like a temple altar, Sophy's mom having covered the whole entertainment table with, like, figurines and plastic flowers and incense holders and Buddhas. There's doilies and little bowls of candy too, and some Marys and Josephs and baby Christs someone gave her, and a picture of Sarun in a baseball uniform, so it's not as weird as it sounds that her dad will sometimes just sit there and sit there with his eyes moving around, looking as though he's expecting Buddha to come talk to him out of the screen. Because the whole thing is like something between an altar and a computer that went down, it looks like any second it could ding and come back up, first with a blank screen, and then with that noise that means the computer is thinking. So that if you're patient, there it'll be, pretty soon, the answer.

Why why why why why.

Other times her dad'll play with his slide rule or his drafting tools-like he'll draw a little bridge while he's sitting there, just make up a river and put this bridge over it for fun. Or else he'll sit there and smoke and ask, like, how did he get to be the educated one who moved to the city and had a fancy house and a car? Where did his good karma come from? And then what happened to it? And was there something the matter with the karma of the whole country, that Pol Pot came? Did they do something wrong? That's when he isn't drunk. When he's drunk he'll say mad stuff, like that he ate the livers of his enemies during Pol Pot time just like the Khmer Rouge (which Sopheap says the Khmer Rouge really did, though she sort of doubts that their dad did too). Or else he'll wave a kitchen knife in the air and tell Sophy and her sisters that they're going to be hookers and that if he ever hears they are going around with boys he is going to kill them. Lop! Which is, like, one reason why Sophy didn't exactly run and tell him about Ronnie the minute she started seeing him.

Now Sophy's dad and mom have Sarun and three girls and a baby too, he is so cute! But Sophy's dad is, like, ashamed he had children with Sophy's mom, and that's why he's so strict, besides the fact that Cambodians are just strict. So that if anyone does anything wrong, he doesn't just say you were wrong. Instead he says, You should be ashamed to have been born. You should be ashamed. Why were you born? Why? And then they'll say it too. We're sorry we were born. There's no reason for us to live. We're sorry we were born. We're sorry. Especially Sarun will say it, but Sophy will say it too sometimes, and Sopheap, and Sophan. We're sorry. There is no reason for us to live. We're sorry. And mostly that's that, though every once in a while he'll look at them and say, To destroy you is no loss, the way they did in Pol Pot time. Because that's the way he talks when he's drunk. It's, like, destroy this and destroy that. Like if he wanted to kill somebody, he wouldn't say that, he wouldn't say, I want to kill you. He'd say, I want to destroy you, and he'd mean it.

Which sounds pretty bad but the funny thing is that, back in their old town, Sophy's sisters and her were happy. Like they all slept together, the three of them in two beds pushed together, and even though there was a crack in the middle, they didn't care. They had an agreement that whoever slept on the crack could have the biggest poster to put up, and so it was always Sophan who slept there, because she just loved that t.i.tanic movie! Sophy liked Britney Spears and Sopheap liked Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, but Sophan's thing for Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet was different, because she thought Jack and Rose were, like, perfect! And Sophy knew what she meant in a way, because Sophy could hear their voices too sometimes. Like she could hear Jack say, Never let go, and she could hear Rose say, Put your hands on me, Jack, and she could hear him say, Make every day count. She could. She wasn't as bad as Sophan, though, who so wanted Jack and Rose to get together in their next life that she was, like, burning incense for them all the time. She didn't care that she had to do it at home, on their chest of drawers, because of the monks all fighting at the temple, some of them controlling the upstairs and some of them controlling the downstairs, you couldn't walk in the door without being on one side or the other. Pretty soon the whole top of the bureau was basically an altar to Jack and Rose, with oranges and incense and plastic flowers and swans and stuff, sort of like what their mom liked to put all over the TV, only with this giant t.i.tanic poster above it. Sophy had just this little Britney Spears poster and Sopheap's poster of Tiffani-Amber Thiessen was even smaller, but that was okay. They actually all liked the Jack and Rose altar, arranged so neat and beautiful, not like their room in general, which was a mess! It really was. Not that they cared, in fact they loved the whole mixed-up scene, and would take pictures of themselves wearing their own clothes and each other's clothes and write down what people said about their outfits and how much it messed them up, though even without the clothes people would probably have mixed them up anyway. Because all three of them had, like, long hair, and they were almost the same height and almost the same age and their names were so much the same too. Like Sophy's name is Sophy, and her younger sister is Sopheap, and of course, the youngest is Sophan the t.i.tanic fan. It's hard to explain to people, but that's just what Cambodian families do, and their names all have meanings like ”hardworking” and ”polite” and ”beautiful,” but that's even harder to explain. Like your name means ”beautiful”? Sophan always used to imitate the look on the black girls' faces when she told them that. They were, like, ”Whoa! Put down yo' cell phone, and listen to this!” A lot of Cambodian kids have English names now like Linda and May, but their dad is old-fas.h.i.+oned because he wasn't young when he came, he wasn't like some kids' parents, who were, like, twenty. He was, like, fifty or something and a lot more Cambodian. So Sophy and Sopheap and Sophan use their Khmer names unless somebody makes a mistake. Like if someone calls Sophy ”Sophie” or ”Sophia” instead of So-PEE, she just lets them, so what. She figures a lot of Cambodians don't speak Khmer, why should they?

Anyway, the beds took up the whole room. You could not get into bed except by climbing in at the foot, and Sophy remembers how one day their social worker Carla said something about that to, like, this visitor. ”They're used to it,” she said, and Sophy remembers that because she had never heard Carla call them they before. And used to was what they were supposed to say about America and American food even though they were born here, the beds didn't seem like a thing they were used to or not. It wasn't until a lot later that she realized that what Carla meant was that it was something her friend would have to get used to, if she were to end up in their lives, somehow. That it was, like, Cambodian. But so what, Carla was still all right. Like when she called, she'd say, ”Hey, my love,” like she was a kid instead of a grown-up, and she took them shopping and ate with them and corrected their grammar, and back when they were listening to all that hip-hop and rap, Carla was the one who told them it was bad to be ghetto and hooked them on TV shows like Dawson's Creek and Beverly Hills 90210 instead. Like she made them change their style. And the sad fact is, if Carla hadn't gotten sick, they would probably still be in their bedroom singing ”Wannabe.” If Carla hadn't gotten sick, they would probably never have gotten in trouble the way they did. If Carla hadn't gotten sick, they would probably still be doing the moves like Britney Spears and talking about how Sopheap could be a TV star like Tiffani-Amber Thiessen!

Even Sarun said it was too bad when Carla got sick, and Ronnie said it too. Like it was just some bad s.h.i.+t, he said.

Back when Sophy's dad became a big deal engineer, he changed his name to Ratanak, which was fancier than his old name, which was Souen. He kept his family name, which of course in Cambodia goes first instead of last. That was Chhung. But he needed a first name that went with living in the city, and so he changed it, and only went back to being Souen when he went to go live in the village with his brother after the Khmer Rouge came and made everyone leave Phnom Penh. And then it was lucky he had changed his name and changed it back, because it helped hide him. But even now Sophy's mom calls him Souen instead of Ratanak sometimes, and that makes him mad. She doesn't want to make him mad, but she can't make city names come out of her mouth-they're, like, too long. Country names are easier to say, like her own name, Mum.

Sophy's mom wasn't good with her mouth, but she was good with her hands. Like in Cambodia, she was good at everything from planting seedlings to sc.r.a.ping off leeches to picking out head lice to sewing, and here she was good too, no one could put eyes on a stuffed animal faster than she could. But she wasn't loud like some of the other women, full of talk and opinions. She was quiet even in Khmer, and could not learn English, because that was something you did with your mouth. Or that's what she said. Sophy's dad said she just liked to act ting moung, like she did during Pol Pot time, like she couldn't hear or think anything, like she was some kind of dummy. He would sing her this song they used to sing in Cambodia that went ”You know you must plant trees / To do well you must plant l'ngo and kor,” which was kind of a trick song because l'ngo means ”sesame” but sounds like ”stupid,” and kor means ”kapok tree” but sounds like ”mute,” so that the song used to mean you'd better be stupid and mute if you want to keep out of trouble with Angka. Now it was just a way of making fun of Sophy's mom.

But back in their old town, her mom said if she was ting moung it was thanks to that woman living next door who went around with barely any clothes on, because guess who looked. And that was bad. But the funny thing was that the lace bra didn't even bother Sophy's mom as much as the fact that that woman could read and write and speak English. She had a job in the high school that kept her away some of the time, but she had all these holidays Sophy's mom didn't have, and when her mom was away, the woman was busy not only making eyes at Sophy's dad but trying to steal Gift. Like she was always giving him sweets and stuff.

”She thinks Gift recognizes her,” Sophy's mom said. ”And she thinks she knows him, too. She thinks she's his m'day daem.”