‘A couple of days, but we knew where she was then.’
‘Not now?’
‘It’s tricky to describe.’
‘You’d think a man like your father would have no trouble in finding anyone in this city.’
Una hums and doesn’t answer. The less she has to think about that, the better. Not a short while later, they’ve arrived on the Champs-Elysee of Stallwind. The two mount the sidewalk and get to their feet. Una pushes her old blue bicycle along the paved roads all neat with bushes and trees. Sammi bobs along with her eyes full of the wares in windows. Windows full and fat with material. Shining. The ice creamery’s over there. Una stops outside the window and looks into the cafe. Familiar: it sort of reminds her of those little expensive cafes in Taipei that are modelled around idealised Parisian affairs. Awnings on the outside, cream and snug on the inside. Inside glow the banks and banks of displays like a fine jeweller’s store. Una leaves her bike outside and grabs Sammi’s hand. In they go.
The attendant behind the counter catches sight of money – in come the Chinese. Oh! This particular Chinese girl. Yes, I know this one. But who’s her friend? More money, excellent.
‘Welcome, girls, what would you like?’
Sammi’s frothing at the mouth as if she’s never had ice cream before; Una just smiles to herself. Her friend asks for a scoop of green tea with vanilla. It comes in a perfect sphere atop a waffle cone so crisp that she can hear the crunch as Sammi takes a bite. How much? Here you go.
‘Thank you. Anything for you, dear?’
‘I’m on a diet. Can you help me with something, though?’
The woman nods, agreeable, and her eyes flit from girl to expensive phone as Una whips out her Shandian Cloud Q. Holy shit, this phone. My goodness. You don’t want to know what this phone costs. Anyway, a few polite jabs through WeChat and she has what she needs: Una turns the phone around and shows the cashier a photo of her sister bright and neat in a school uniform, wearing an expression that could only be construed as happy. Una should really have this as her wallpaper.
‘My sister and I come here a lot.’
‘Oh yes, I do remember you two. She had a thing for crème brûlée if I recall correctly. Ate nothing else.’
Una smiles and asks, ‘Has she been here in the last week? Just by herself, or with friends, or…’
Attendant thinks but her head sways side to side, elephant slow. No. No. No. ‘Sorry, young miss. Is everything ok?’
‘Oh, I just wanted to make sure she doesn’t come here without me. But can you keep an eye out for her?’
Lies leave a happy gloss that can pay dividends later; it’s important not to cause undue concern. Una turns and takes in the sight of their usual seat – there, hidden just a little by the fronds of that plastic palm. Paris outside glowing with sun-shower gold. Una sighs, imagines: two bowls between two sisters as they share an afternoon snack, as Una corrects her sister’s biology homework with tidy red handwriting. English and Traditional mixed together on the same page where the concepts failed to cross the linguistic pond…They would spend an hour or so here before returning home.
There was a smile that touched her sister in this place. A smile that Una did not see at home or in the school yard, nor in transit or anywhere else. Just here. Comfortable and warm, one that made her face melt and blossom. Even the memory is sticky in Una’s mind. To know that such a feeling was reserved for a time and a place where the sisters were together…
Even after their mother passed…
The park holds that same importance. Weekends were their time together. On rare days their father would actually drive them to this big circle in the middle of Stallwind. He’d park over there by the trees and walk in between Una and Yi-Ting as the three made their way down to the pond. Yi-Ting once read that this spot here was part of a migratory highway for birds, one that linked Canada to South America. Una could believe it: see now with all the reeds and mayflies and dragonflies and all creatures that fly, all bustling in highway configuration and noise around the swampy water.
Sisters would spend an hour or two here in the sunshine. They’d set up a badminton net and play while their father read the Business Times or the Financial Review or held a conference call with someone in the Motherland. A smile. Occasionally.
There is no sign of her sister. The park is by no means deserted – mums with kids, kids with kids, teens with their heads together in the collective hold of a phone.
No sister.
Sammi comes in beside her friend, says, ‘Sorry, Una. You sure she isn’t with her girlfriend?’
Una nods and turns to walk back to the bike racks. The sun is dying. ‘I’ll take you home.’
There’s one last place that she wants to visit. Alone and in time with the dark of night.
She hasn’t ever been to the arcade before. There’s really no point for her. Rhythm games aren’t her thing and the noise in those places is enough to make her deaf by twenty. That and the alcohol and smoke and general seediness. You wouldn’t think of it, really, just by looking at the arcade from the outside. Just bricks and white trash to paint the scenery from the view of the car park. Una ignores the eyes and offers for cheap epop as she enters the complex, passes a bouncer, not even a glance. Wall. Of. Sound. Hair cells cry and die – eeeeeeeeeee in her ears, already. She is a mountaineer standing atop the Smokey Mountains. Down below the vapour line she descends and the atmosphere turns smoggy. Air harsh on the lungs now. A thousand chimney stacks lit and alive in the mouths of entranced gamers at their banks and monitors. Puffing, playing. Men, girls, whites, Chinese, blacks. Una is here for a particular girl.
There. Over by the little circular bar standing node-like in the middle of this blood-work maze. A creature sits on the round highchair with her legs high and on display for the Eyes. Their school uniform, their skin and kind. Carrie Cài with her golden sports hoodie. Carrie Cài with her sweet brothers. Una feels the bitterness rise up in her throat and she storms over, all ready for starry confrontation. Oh the look in Carrie’s eyes as she sees her coming: wide fear. She tries to hide her drink and green tea cigarette. Una stops right before the girl with her fists clenched; Carrie straightens and pre-empts, Mandarin flowing, ‘P-Please don’t report me, I-I-I haven’t had that much to drink!’
Una ignores the sniggering faces of her brothers and lets the creature squirm a little under her gaze. Carrie collects herself and finds some semblance of her normal voice after the shock of being discovered by a prefect. ‘H-How’s Yi-Ti?’
The nerve. Una strikes out! In a flash she has the girl by her school collar, lifting her part way off the seat, bringing her face in close. Yes! That fear, that command. Una feels the trickle of anger touch her heart as she spits out the words loud over the noise of the arcade, ‘When did you last speak with her?’
‘When she was last with me.’
‘Don’t be a fucking smartass! Has she said anything about being out of home?’
Carrie shakes her head and Una lets her slide back into the chair. A moment passes and just as Carrie’s about to say something with her eyes on the floor, Una booms, ‘This isn’t a game. This isn’t a neat little runaway fantasy for you to indulge in. Yi-Ting is in trouble and you can do your part to protect her by telling me where the fuck she is.’
Pause. Soft brown eyes still to the floor, little Chinese curtain hair barely enough to hide that face. Crying? Oh geez. Una calms herself down a bit but keeps up the attack, ‘I’m not trying to ruin your relationship or anything. I’m seriously worried for my sister. Please, please understand that.’
‘Ok.’
‘If you see her, please send me a message. Immediately. Hold out your phone.’
With gentle reluctance, Carrie withdraws an old Shandian from her pocket. Man, it’s so old it probably doesn’t have the right band of NFC to share contacts. Una snatches the thing from the girl and pokes in her number, saves it, hands it back with the letters facing clear so Carrie can see the nam
e.
‘Understand me? You see her, you call me.’
Carrie nods – quick, twice – and takes her phone back gingerly. Una turns on her heels and makes for the exit, but not before stepping out of the way for an enormous, enormous black man sidling through the aisles. He’s got a look on his face, like he’s after someone in particular, and Una hears Carrie call through the mess of noise and wave the man over. Oh, she’s slippery with the change. All bright and perky now. What possible business could those two share?
No stars on the ride home. Just the bicycle noise clanking and clinking. No lights on at home. No noise. Calm room, sheets all folded and fresh. Thank you, maid. Una undresses and crawls under the covers, naked, where for a brief moment she lets herself float away. She is Una in another time and another place, a Una without worries or concerns or anxieties. Her mother is there with her. Warm hugs. Gentle. But blurry. Undefined, because as soon as the memory crystallises, it begins to fade once more. Her face…gone, as details disintegrate, degrade to nothing like sour film developing into darkness. Una already feels herself reground and set in her waking world. Alive. Awake. See. Phone in hand, the chat box with her sister fresh on the glass. Una’s messages left unseen. Una sends another:
‘Please come home. You don’t have to worry about hurting me. I can take care of the Macaque.’
Lies. But haven’t we already established just how effective lies can be at mending hearts and sowing the seeds of kindness?
Una drops her phone and feels the emotion take her. Hugging her pillow like a childhood toy, the girl cries without making a peep.
Sister, please come home.
Waves
When she woke there was no sign of Janelle. Even the leftover blanket felt as though it would vanish in a heartbeat when she wasn’t looking at it. Cruel mind tricks had woven this fabric together. Yet, she’d survived the night. What now? It is only early morning.
Macaque is gone. It won’t be back until much later in the day…
Hours lost and whiled, minutes slipping away to rivers of past. But the ultimate destination of time never left Yi-Ting’s mind:
“I’ll be home by midnight. No later. I promise you.”
Carrie.
Get up. Move. Park. Lunch. Park. Train. Sleep. Walk.
Time and space come together and Yi-Ting finds herself at the Cài (read: Tschi) household. Single-storey but wide, an ok garden crunching underfoot as the child makes her way to portal-light, door light. Heart skipping with the stones, the solar-light symphony to guide her along this glorious path. Her heart warms. Damn the light splatter of rain, damn the trickle of skytears as they carve up transparent patches on her shirt. Under the awning and head against the wooden door she finds herself in a glorious moment of respite. For: see, Macaque cannot enter this sacred place. See how the creature stalls by the letterbox all ghosted and insubstantial like a memory. After a feed, the creature is weak. Around the homes of those she loves, the creature is weak. Well…except for home, it seems. But you are defeated, for now, dear monster.
Yi takes out her phone and sends a pre-typed message: “Here, let me in, ok?”
Pop goes the message and now starts the wait. If she strains her ears in the night’s chorus she thinks she can hear the little trill of a phone somewhere nearby. And the footsteps down the hall, reifying to reality. Soon, soon. Thud thud, heart and steps, and the wood slides open. Yi brings a smile to her face but immediately recants, straightening, eyes rising up to the daunting father figure. Mr Cài. Yi feels her face burn as her heart flummoxes. In the background she hears another set of steps and sees Carrie slot into the spare space behind her father. Her eyes say sorry, so sorry, I didn’t know he’d answer. Carrie grabs a fold of yellow on her sports jacket and turns very still, waiting for…The man looks from one girl to the other with creased lines cutting into his face. This thing, again, standing in the door. All grubby and tattered with dirt on her chin and her school uniform a complete mess. Stockings rolly like snakes, skirt burnt and ripped, tie lost and hair all matte against the wet face. How dare she arrive unannounced and so late at night!
Carrie steps forward and murmurs, ‘Dad, Dad, please, I said Yi-Ting could stay here overnight. She can’t go home…’
Mr Cài murmurs while still looking at his daughter, ‘Where have you been, girl? Your father has been looking for you.’
Yi replies to the man with her eyes low, ‘I’ve just…been at the library.’
‘He thought you might come here again, and asked me to take you in.’
Father knew? Of course Father knows. Does that mean he’ll come and collect her? She can’t have that; she can’t be dragged back home until she can figure out how to rid herself of this vile monster in her heart. As if the man can read her thoughts, he turns and says, ‘I will allow you to stay for the night, but in the morning we must have a discussion about returning you home. Understand?’
Nod nod. Her heart settles into sweet relief.
‘Now get inside. You’re filthy.’
Yes.
‘Shoes off.’
I know.
‘Yunqi will help you with anything you need.’
I know. Yes. Nod nod. The man gives her one final look of scorn and makes for the backrooms, but not before giving his daughter a stare, long and difficult. She avoids his gaze and waits, both wait, until the man is well and truly gone. Yi-Ting wants to launch herself at her love but the echoing footsteps hold them apart. Tap. Tap…Then the actors come alive – Yi-Ting has her in her arms and Carrie, Yunqi, has her. Love by any name.
‘You reek.’ Yi feels the words tingle gently in her ear and affords herself a little giggle. Just the tiniest fraction of a laugh. For the emotion is indeed overwhelming and threatens to break her glass body apart. All that weight removed from her soul and vacuums come in their place. What to feel now in the aftermath? Relief or anxiety for the coming day, or love for her girlfriend? What comes in the wake?
Yunqi takes her by the hand and they walk through the wide home to the left wing. Past the domain of the brothers, well away from the father. Here we go. Yi’s seen this bathroom before and knows the familiar white glow of soft tiles. A dark window double-frosted and tinted oh-so-black. Yi sits on the edge of the bath and sighs deep, watches Carrie fish out towels and linen from a cupboard in the hall outside and place them at the sink. She turns and, hands on hips like a mother, says, ‘You’ll need some clothes. One sec. Do you want me to bring them here or do you want to change in my room?’
So very much like a mother.
‘Bring them here.’
‘Ok.’
Door shut, tap tap down the hall. Yi turns her eyes to the heating lights above and feels their tiny army of needles prickle her eyes. The rain’s blood clears away and her skin tingles with new energy. Breathe in: perfume and something nice. But what she really wants…Yi stands and starts to undress, peeling the stockings off from under her skirt. Zipzip and down comes the fabric of skirt, all white and black as clothes mix. Happy together now. Unlink the metal and her bra skydives, underwear on top of the mess.
Tiny knock at the door and Yi says it’s ok to come in. Door opens a sliver and Carrie appears in the peep vein, eyes up and down, and the girl slips through before shutting the door tight. Locks. Click. Turns with a pile of her old clothes – something red and blue with new underwear and socks. Yi finds her gaze and holds it, full. She feels embarrassment, red fear glowing in her cheeks. Hug your elbows but don’t look away. Ignore those bad thoughts, dear girl, as you match the eyes of the one you love. Stand and be brave. Carrie slides the clothes onto the sink space and murmurs with a little smile, ‘You’re keen as anything.’
‘Can you stay with me?’
Yunqi nods, determined, and opens her mouth but Yi follows through, ‘Can you wash my hair…like how you did it last time?’
Her girlfriend tilts her head to the side and replies with a smile that delivers all answers.
Before Carrie, she’d
never had her hair washed by anyone else before. Not even at the hairdressers by a professional. But when Carrie does it…it’s a giddy feeling on the skull that tenses up the shoulders. A ball of shampoo in the hand and frothing at the strands, erasing all dirt. Naked and together in the little shower space they sit. Yi-Ting leans into the soft-skin wall of Yunqi and lets herself be grounded here in this perfect moment. Waterfalling steam and the cutting smell of pineapples as gooey blobs of shampoo work her head and trickle down her back. Around and around the fingers work across the fabric of skull and follicle. Bending and new. Waves and waves of fingers as they cut rivers through the ocean.
They share a bath after the fact. A long space where two bodies meet under the warm ocean. Yi cuddles up into Carrie and the older girl murmurs over the soft motion of water, ‘Have you told your father yet about us?’
Yi shakes her head and her shoulders break the waterskin silence. No way. But please don’t be mad. Carrie isn’t, of course. Yi listens to the rhythm of Carrie’s words, feeling their bouncy weight. ‘I’m not an expert on these sorts of things. But I find that being honest with yourself starts with being honest to other people.’
Beautiful words. Yi murmurs back, low, ‘It’s complicated.’
‘You going to tell me what’s going on with you and your sister?’
Yi-Ting rises from the soft bedrock and says, pressing her thighs into Carrie’s waist. ‘If you want me to, I’ll tell you.’
‘I want you.’
Yi brushes a wet block of hair from her eyes and confesses, ‘There’s a monster inside of me that makes me drink people’s skin colour. It used to haunt my older sister but now it’s inside of me. If I don’t control it, it’ll find my sister and kill her.’
After Hope Dies Page 20
