Part 17 (1/2)

He was lying on his back, his arms stretched out by his sides, eyes fluttering. ”What's wrong with him?” I asked Trahn. The guy was panicking, shaking his friend's shoulders.

”He not eat in a week. He's very weak. He never gets broth or rice. The big guy in our cell eats most.”

A guard blew a whistle and came running over to us.

”Back to work,” he barked. He started to push Trahn off his friend. We walked reluctantly back to our shovels. The collapsed man lay limp on the dirt. The guard kicked him in the leg and then turned to walk away, glancing over his shoulder at us every now and then. When he rounded the corner I crept back to Trahn.

”I'll be back,” I whispered.

”You'll be in big trouble!” he said. ”Interrogation room!”

I glanced all around to make sure no one was watching. Then I walked swiftly to the guards' staff room. None of them would be there yet. It was too early for their break. Looking over my shoulder, I turned to slowly open the door. It creaked noisily on its hinges. My fearful heart beat deafeningly inside my ribcage. I quickly scanned the room and saw a huge bottle of water sitting on a water tipper. I picked a metal cup off the counter and quickly tipped the huge bottle to fill the cup with water. I was too hasty and some water sloshed on the floor. I turned to walk as quickly as I could out of the room without spilling the water. Trahn looked at me with awe as I approached. I bent over his friend and trickled water through the thin parting of his lips. My hands were shaking and I spilled some on the man's chest. His eyes fluttered and he began to swallow.

”Now I'll get you food,” I whispered in his ear.

”Thank you,” Trahn whispered to me. ”Your heart so kind. But you need to stop. You get us all in trouble.”

I couldn't stop. I was eighteen and had never thought beyond what I wanted or how sorry I was for myself. Suddenly serving this weak man was giving me power. For once I felt purposeful. Destined. I suddenly realized how helping him would save me.

I took the empty cup with me so the guys wouldn't get in trouble if a guard came while I was gone. I skulked to the stinking room where the fish were cleaned. I saw a prisoner bent over the pile of fish corpses, gutting them with a knife. A bored-looking guard watched him inattentively from the corner. I was nauseous, but something urged me on. I didn't want the other prisoner to see me, otherwise he'd be implicated, too. I waited and watched until the guard left, likely to take a p.i.s.s. The prisoner gutted another fish and then stood to stretch. He turned his back to me as he twisted his body from side to side, trying to get the kinks out of his hunched back. It was my moment. I swallowed. I slunk into the room, grabbed two slippery catfish, and was gone.

I sped-walked back to the site where we were digging the pond. I had a fish tucked under each armpit. I surrept.i.tiously pa.s.sed them to Trahn, who was helping his weak friend sit up.

”Here. Feed these to him. I can get you more later,” I whispered. I resolved to find a way to bring my share of the catfish to Trahn's cell.

”But, the guard, he -” Trahn was interrupted as the guard who had kicked his friend came running across the field to us.

”You!” He pointed at me. ”I was here two minutes ago and you weren't. Where were you?”

I saw the grim expression on Trahn's face.

”Answer!” the guard barked.

”Getting food,” I said. ”He will die without it.” I pointed to the prisoner sitting on the ground and looking around, dazed.

”He gets food,” the guard spat.

”Not enough.”

”I didn't want to do this, but you could have got me in big trouble. I've had to report you to my supervisor,” the guard said. ”Tomorrow you'll have a meeting with him. He said he'd take you to the interrogation room himself.”

I heard Trahn's shovel drop.

Memory.

Seng.

The next morning Vong found the wrinkled piece of paper with Meh's address lying on the bedside table of their guesthouse room.

”What's this?” she asked.

For once he knew something that she didn't. For once he was in control. He had taken life into his own hands. He paused to savour the feeling for a moment. He considered not telling her. She read their mother's stout characters, scratched out in a weak pen that looked like it was almost out of ink.

”Seng?”

”She's alive, Vong.” He met her eyes. ”Meh.”

Vong flopped down in the wooden guesthouse chair.

”What are you saying?”

”I found her.” He found her. No one else. He started to laugh. He had done the very thing he had dreamed of his entire life. By himself.

”Our mom is alive, euaigh!” He reached down and hugged his sister. ”She's here, in Bangkok.” He laughed hysterically. He buried his face into his sister's shoulder and his wild laughter gradually changed into wild sobbing. They sat for a long time, Seng laughing and weeping, Vong with a confused look on her face.

”I can't wait anymore. We will go see her today,” Seng said, when they finally calmed down.

”We will see our mother today?” Vong asked, eyes wide. ”I don't believe this. You must have it all wrong. Is it the stress? Tell me everything.”

”Let's go! I've been waiting to see her since I was five years old. I can't wait any longer,” he said.

Outside the guesthouse, Seng reluctantly handed the flyer over to a tuk-tuk driver. He was afraid to let it go, his only link to his mom. The driver nodded and Seng immediately took the flyer and put it into the pocket over his heart.

The driver let them off in front of a grey, brick tenement. Faded skirts with patterns of elephants and men's white unders.h.i.+rts flapped from laundry lines strung across balconies that were overflowing with stuff - boisterous chickens in cages, bicycles, and tattered wicker baskets. Barefoot children in dirty, worn clothes chased each other outside. The smell of smouldering garbage fires was everywhere.

Vong and Seng stepped over a beggar sitting on the cement steps. It looked like she lived in the stairwell. A cardboard box had been laid out flat underneath the stairs. A child sat on it, absent-mindedly forming grains of rice into a picture. She wore no top and her light brown hair frizzed around her head. Vong pressed a few baht into the woman's lined, brown palm.

”Please, miss. Can you tell us where apartment number 8 is?” Vong's voice was shaky.

They followed the young woman's directions to the top of the grimy stairs and made a left into a dim, grey hall. With quivering hands, Seng knocked on the door. No one answered. Outside children called out to each other. A coin fell out of his pocket and tingled loudly on the dirty linoleum floor.

”Are you sure it was her, Seng?” Vong asked.

This time they could hear shuffling behind the thin door. The unlatching of locks. The creaking of hinges. And suddenly there she was. For the first time Seng saw her without her dark sungla.s.ses.

Of course.

His mother.

Eyes exactly like his own stared back at him. The smell of frying spring rolls wafted out from behind her.

”Meh!” Seng fell at her feet. ”Meh!” He began to weep. Vong wiped her eyes.

”Mother, it's us. Vong and Seng.”