Ghost Month

by Ed Lin

  “You mean drinks?” I asked.

  “Or food or cigarettes?”

  “I thought we weren’t allowed to smoke in the rooms,” said Nancy.

  “We could all step outside and share a smoke.”

  Was this lady a house prostitute or just pushy with the amenities?

  “We’re fine for now,” said Nancy. “We’ll call if we need you.” The woman whipped out a phone camera from somewhere. “Smile! I want to put you two on our wall!” We obliged. “Adios!” the bikini lady said cheerfully. When she was gone and the door was closed, Nancy slapped my shoulder.

  “Her boobs are fake, you know,” she said. “You don’t need to inspect them that closely!”

  I showed Nancy the open palms of my hands. “She was bending over, pushing them into my face!”

  “You could have moved away!”

  “You’re jealous!”

  “I’m angry!”

  “Don’t be mad at me. You’re the only one I love.” I backpedaled immediately. “I mean, the only one I could love.”

  She blinked and I saw her pupils darting around. “You have to sing ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ for me,” she said.

  “If it will make you happy, I will.”

  I was kidding around, being as melodramatic as I could, but halfway through the song I felt my stomach tighten, and it wasn’t because of the bruise. I looked into Nancy’s eyes and saw she was still that girl in high school with a crush on an upperclassman.

  When I was done, I shut off my mic.

  “I can’t fall in love with you, Nancy,” I said to the floor.

  “I wouldn’t let you fall in love with me,” she said. “Not until you’re done with Julia.”

  “Maybe I’ll never be done with Julia.”

  “Maybe,” she said, turning to the songbook and studying the titles intently. “I’m a little thirsty now. Why don’t you pick up the phone and call your friend?”

  “She’s your friend, too.”

  I ordered two Kirins, and a man dressed as a cowpoke brought them in. “They sent him to even things out for us,” I told Nancy. “Feel better?”

  She grumbled. Julia would have never grumbled at me. I liked how Nancy was honest about how she was feeling.

  Nancy gave Joy Division’s “Transmission” a shot, singing it probably two octaves above Ian Curtis. It lent the song a feeling of innocence, and the lyrics about the societal alienation of the individual were recast as the narrative of a child asking why his parents never really loved him and now they were dead.

  “You’re crying, Jing-nan,” said Nancy.

  “That song makes me cry sometimes.”

  I changed the energy in the room with the dancy “Bizarre Love Triangle” by New Order.

  It was right that they’d decided to carry on. It was right that they chose to do what they loved.

  After a while, I became irritated at the mix of the song. It must have gone on for fifteen minutes—most of it instrumental. I made Nancy jump up and down with me while we pretended to shoot our guns into the ceiling. I forgot all about our panicked flight from the love hotel earlier.

  After what seemed like only a few more songs, we stumbled out of the room and handed back our gun mics. Sheriff Chang rang up our bill.

  “That’s six thousand NT,” he declared.

  “Hey, wait a second,” I said. “We were supposed to get a deal.”

  “Yeah, the first hour was free and so were the beers. You were in our best room for two charged hours, and I’m rounding down, too.” A hundred US dollars per hour. What a scam. I wondered how many times German would strongly encourage me to visit.

  Nancy handed over her credit card.

  “Now, little lady, I quoted you the cash price. I’m sorry, but I have to add another ten percent for credit.”

  “That’s fine. Also, put in another two hundred NT for a tip for the waiter,” she said.

  “I like your style,” said Sheriff Chang. He swiped her card and handed it back. To me, he said, “I like your friend. What’s her name?”

  “You just saw her card, sheriff,” I said. “Her name’s Nancy.”

  “No, I mean your other friend. The one with the car-crash bags.” He cupped his own breasts, which were, truthfully, impressive in their own right.

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

  “You mean the girl in the bikini?” asked Nancy. “She doesn’t work here?”

  “I wish she did! She came in looking for you, Jing-nan!”

  “I’ll tell her you like her,” I managed to say.

  “She’s got a job here, if she ever wants one!”

  Nancy signed her receipt and we walked out.

  “I wonder what this all means,” she said.

  “It’s bad,” I said. “Now that they’ve got a picture of you, you’re mixed up in this, too.”

  We met up with German and his boys, who were still watching over our car. He thanked me loudly for visiting his KTV. Then he put his arm around me and walked me to a poorly lit section of the street.

  “I have bad news, Jing-nan,” he said. “You’ve pissed off some pretty powerful people.”

  “It’s Black Sea, isn’t it?”

  “The only thing I know for sure is that the Americans are involved.” He turned and spit into the road. “You’re in some serious shit.”

  “They already warned me.” I put my hands in my pockets.

  “Then lay off, already. I don’t know what you did, but just stop doing it.”

  “I did stop.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder, not in a menacing sort of way, but like a little-league coach. “Stop even looking like you might do it again.”

  “Who told you, German?”

  “I heard through the grapevine. People saw you go into the Best Western. I don’t want you to bring any trouble there, you got me? It’s a legit business, and I’m keeping it clean.”

  I cracked my back. “Trouble’s been following me.”

  “Stop bringing it into the neighborhood, because then it becomes trouble for me and then I have to take care of it. Then it’s going to cost you. Understand?”

  “I got it.”

  “Here’s what I suggest. You and Nancy get in the car and go somewhere else tonight. Don’t ever bring that fucking car back here. You two want to come back to your place, take your shitty moped or the train.”

  I looked over at the car. It looked like it had been Photoshopped into a picture of this worn-out block.

  “The car’s pretty conspicuous, right? The Americans will know when we’re around because of it.”

  “Fuck the Americans,” said German with a scowl. “I’m just noticing my boys like that car too much. I can’t watch over them twenty-four hours a day, and a car isn’t the biggest thing they’ve made disappear.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nancy lived in a luxury apartment complex in the Da’an District. We pulled up to one of the entrances and a skinny man in a red uniform stepped out immediately and opened Nancy’s door.

  He chirped, “Good evening, Miss Han,” with his head down.

  It must have been four in the morning, but he was as lively as if it were four in the afternoon.

  “Hello, Yeh-jung,” said Nancy. She left the engine on and stepped out of the car. I didn’t think the man could see me under the low brim of his hat, but he nodded to me over the car roof as I exited.

  Another man in a uniform with the same build as the first attendant spun the revolving door for us as we walked through.

  “Good evening, Miss Han,” said the man.

  “Hello, Chao-tang,” she said.

  Chao-tang brought his head up and looked at me casually.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Good evening, sir.” I thought I heard his heels click.

  We walked the length of a giant salt-water aquarium to get to the elevators. A bright yellow fish shaped like an uncut starfruit kept pace with us before giving me the eye and darting away.
/>   “This building looks really familiar for some reason, even though I’m sure I’ve never been here before,” I said.

  “We were on the news a few times,” Nancy said with some weariness in her voice. “Whenever people want to protest, they come here to target the rich and politically powerful. The last group was that anti-nuke group who said that when the New Taipei City reactors leaked radiation we’d have to abandon our luxury apartments. One guy tried to grab my collar when I was walking out.”

  “Seems like a small price to pay when you live like this. Do you realize how underdressed I am?”

  “Don’t be silly. The men who actually live here dress like slobs, because they don’t care about trying to impress anybody. The women are different, though.”

  I looked over the walls near the elevator doors. The only things I saw were smooth tiles and my confused face reflected in the mirrors.

  “Where are the buttons?”

  “It’s sensor-driven. We call the elevators by just standing here.”

  On cue, the door in front of Nancy slid open as a chime suspiciously close to the default ring of an iPhone sounded. As I followed her into the car, another elevator opened up to my right. I turned around in time to see our doors close on a woman focusing an accusing glare on us.

  “Do you know her?” asked Nancy.

  “You don’t recognize an old schoolmate? That’s Lee Xiaopei. Peggy.”

  “Your year?”

  “Yeah. I was too surprised to wave.”

  Nancy pulled me in close. “Well, you guys can talk later,” she said.

  Gee, I’d thought Peggy and I were cool. Something was up.

  NANCY DIDN’T HAVE A lot of stuff in her apartment. Not to the naked eye, anyway. Every five feet of wall space concealed some kind of storage bin that opened with a handle and folded away seamlessly in the wood grain.

  “I like how there’s no clutter,” said Nancy as she gestured to the wall, “but everything’s right here at your fingertips.” She slid out a CD rack and vinyl album shelf to show me. She lifted up a panel and pushed it in to reveal a home-theater system. Then she bent down to open a bottom drawer before exclaiming, “Whoops!” and slamming it shut before I got a good look at it.

  “What was that, a pet cobra?”

  “It was just something. I don’t open that drawer often.”

  Nancy fast-walked to the bar area. “Want some ice water?” she called.

  “All right.” I went over and fiddled with the wall that had the forbidden drawer. I could tell where the handle was, but I couldn’t pop it out. “Nancy, how do you open this thing?”

  “You’re so nosy,” she grumbled as a piece of fancy machinery let out a metal mouse whine and scraped crushed ice into a glass.

  “Show me,” I said.

  She came over and gave me my drink. “This is mountain-ice water. It’s never been brought down to room temperature since it was harvested.”

  I took a sip. It tasted like any other glass of water I’ve ever had, although it was impressively cold.

  “Nancy,” I insisted. “Show me.”

  She sighed and lifted the handle while twisting it. The drawer opened, revealing stacks of folded men’s socks and briefs.

  “Ah-ding’s, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still hoping he comes back, huh?”

  “No. I just don’t feel right throwing away his things.”

  I took too big a gulp of water. It slit my throat lengthwise like a steel sword.

  She shifted the cup of water in her hand and stood on her tiptoes. “You said you didn’t want to fall in love.”

  “I’m not talking about that,” I said. “I just think it’s weird that you’re still attached to this guy, weird on a purely intellectual basis. You said you don’t love him.”

  “I feel obligated to him. After all, he did buy this place for the two of us to hang out in.”

  I held my glass with both hands, feeling my palms and fingers begin to burn from the cold. “You did more than just ‘hang out,’ Nancy.”

  She flapped her arms twice. “I get it. You’re making a stand for morality.”

  “Not so much morality, but personal dignity.”

  “Dignity? You’ve been taking me to love hotels! What a hypocrite you are!”

  I wasn’t sure who’d slipped me the stupid pill or when it began to take effect, but the way I was going it was going to be a quick, lonely ride down to the lobby. What an asshole I was being! I put my glass down on what looked like a coaster on the closest side table.

  “I’m sorry, Nancy. I’ve been talking like a crazy person.”

  “Don’t forget who paid for KTV tonight.”

  “Thank you so much for taking care of me. I’m such a chump.”

  “You’re jealous of Ah-ding, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am jealous. I just wanted to be alone with you, and his boxers suddenly popped up between us, like a fucking spring-loaded crotch.”

  That made her smile. She punched my arm just hard enough to hurt.

  When a Taiwanese woman is mad at you, if she is able to forgive you, she will punch you. If she remains quiet and doesn’t hit you, you are in big, big trouble. Death-penalty big.

  I put an arm around Nancy and tried to pull her to me, but she twisted away in the same practiced way that I broke free of Dwayne’s holds.

  “I want to show you something special,” she said. She opened a drawer, took out a box the size of a birthday cake and ducked into what I assumed was the bathroom.

  I sat on the designer couch and toyed with my phone as I waited. No voice messages, but there was an email in my junk folder from a Gmail address I didn’t recognize. I heard a clicking sound from the bathroom before the door opened.

  Nancy came out in a red teddy thinner than a facial tissue. She had a pair of red-plastic horns on her head. She sashayed over to me and sat on my lap.

  “Do you like this? It’s my devil-girl outfit.”

  “It looks uncomfortable. We’d better take it off.”

  “Hey, you have to get me into the mood. You were mean before, and I was thinking that I should probably go straight to sleep.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want a good, hard massage.”

  “All right.”

  “My entire back and my legs.”

  “I’ve never massaged legs before.”

  She sighed. “Well, you’re going to learn. Trial and error, but make the errors minimal.”

  “Back first,” I said. She slid onto the coffee table and stretched out. No wonder the top was padded. I put my hands on her shoulder blades.

  “Not like that!” she exclaimed. “Wash your hands first! Use hot water!”

  “All right,” I said, heading for the room she had changed in.

  “And get the oil! On the shelf under the sink!”

  I turned on the water in the sink.

  “Warm up those fingers, Jing-nan! Nothing’s a bigger turn-off than cold hands!”

  It might be a long night, but I was sure it was going to be worth it in the end.

  I DREAMED I WAS in a shadowy hall in a temple, standing before a fiery brazier. I heard Julia tell me to do something, but I didn’t want to do it. I looked down at my hands. They were full of reams of bamboo joss paper with small patches of gold foil in the center that were traditionally burned to send money to deceased loved ones. A Western Union to the dead.

  I peeled off a sheet of paper and a friendly flame caught in the middle, below the gold mark. I saw letters in the soft little light, but I couldn’t read them. What did they say?

  Julia was now standing above me, pointing at the paper in my hands and indicating that I needed to feed it into the brazier. A breeze began to blow, and her full-length, translucent dress flowed back like a jellyfish in a current.

  No, I won’t. That would be playing into the whole myth of the underworld I refused to believe in.

  She insisted.

&nbs
p; I love you, Julia, but I can’t.

  The wind picked up. I hung on to the single fiery sheet. Everything around me was being swept into the mouth of the brazier. Now I had a howling wind at my back.

  I realized there was only one way I could prevent this joss paper from going into the brazier.

  I folded it like a flour tortilla and fought to shove it into my mouth. It became soggy. I began to choke.

  I woke up and yanked the sheet out of my mouth.

  IN THE MORNING I slid out of bed, trying not to wake Nancy up. I checked my email and my phone promptly died. I fumbled and dropped it on the wooden floor, making the loudest sound in the world. Nancy didn’t even flinch. I had been planning to clean my face in the kitchen sink, but since she was in such a deep sleep, I decided I could wash up quickly without bothering her.

  Nancy’s shower fixtures were American, and her shampoo and soap were Japanese. I came out and dried myself off with a big quick-dry towel. My skin had never felt this soft. Even my bruise was looking better. Maybe it was time to ditch the old house, or at least get a new bathroom installed.

  I dressed and touched my lips lightly to Nancy’s. In her sleep she reached up and rubbed off my kiss.

  I rode the MRT back to the market around noon. I was glad to find my moped where I’d left it. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Cars and motorcycles made much better joyrides. Frankie and Dwayne weren’t due for a couple hours, so I went into a Family Mart for a strawberry milk and sipped slowly as I charged up my phone.

  The main market wasn’t open yet, but I picked up a fried chicken leg from a sidewalk vendor and took a few bites. It was old and tasted like it had been fried three times. The meat had hardened into jerky. I soldiered on because I only rarely experience bad food. As I ate, I had an almost transcendent experience. I didn’t register how much I cared about the food we served at Unknown Pleasures until I realized how deeply ashamed I would be to serve something as terrible as this chicken leg to my customers. I picked the bones clean, undeterred by a strip of calloused flesh that lodged between my molars. I even crunched down and ate the cartilage that connected the thigh and leg bones. My disgusting little snack had given me oil-trap breath but left me feeling extremely satisfied. A little bit proud, too.