Fox Girl (18 page)

 

“He is a cheating fucker,” Sookie screamed. Of course I'd heard that before, twice more since that night she found him with the Foxa bar girl. But I had never before seen Sookie act so desperate. “I can't take it anymore,” she repeated as she paced the room, chain-smoking. Hitting the wall, she whirled around and stalked to the table where I was sitting. She stabbed the full cigarette out. It wasn't like her to waste. Even though she could get as much of anything she wanted from Chazu, a part of her always remembered having nothing. So she hoarded: food, cigarettes, soda cans, paper clips, gum wrappers, everything.

Her cigarette dead in the ashtray, Sookie crumpled before me. “I've got VD,” she whispered.

“No!” I gasped. “What are you going to do?” I bit my lips, then, wincing, licked them instead. They were bruised and scabby from all my gnawing.

Sookie jumped up and headed for the kitchen. “I'm going to teach him a lesson,” she sang out. “He's got to learn he can't treat me this way.” She climbed on the counter, opened the cabinets above the refrigerator, and lifted out a jug of Jim Beam. Cradling the bottle, she hopped off the counter and sauntered toward me.

She twisted off the cap and held the bottle to me. “Want some?” she asked.

I shrugged, heaved the jug to my lips and took a sip that burned my throat and the inside of my nose. “Aggh,” I coughed, and sloshed whiskey down my chin and neck.

Sookie laughed and took the whiskey. Tilting her head back, she opened her throat and drank until she had to breathe. When she put the bottle down, her eyes were watering. “I'm going to drink this bottle,” she gasped, “and then I'm going to kill myself.”

“Right,” I said. “That'll show him.” I took another swallow when she passed the jug back to me.

“I'm serious,” she said. “I can't live this life forever. I'll end up like Duk Hee.”

I shuddered, picturing Sookie dancing naked in the fish tanks. I gagged; in my vision, half of Sookie's face was mine. “No!” I shouted, then added more quietly, “That won't happen. I won't let it.”

Sookie peered at me over the bottle. “You won't let it happen? What do you have to do with anything?”

“I'm . . . I'm . . . we're sisters,” I stuttered. “You're not alone.”

“Hyun Jin,” Sookie said, then belched. “Each one of us is always alone. You can't depend on anyone.”

I watched her drink, taking the bottle only when she offered it to me, which became less and less as the night wore on. I took small mouthfuls when she watched me, letting the liquor sit on my tongue and holding it there while I forced my throat to swallow my own spit.

“My sister,” said Sookie, offering a wobbling toast, “the only one who was ever good to me in this sad world.” Grimacing, she raised the Jim Beam to her lips and poured the liquor down the front of her blouse. “Oops,” she giggled, trying to mop it up with her bare hands. She licked her fingers.

Sometime after midnight, but before dawn, Chazu came home. “I should go?” I announced, my voice tilting up in a question.

“Shit back dowhhn,” Sookie slurred. Eyes closed, she waved toward my chair.

“How long has she been drinking this time?” Chazu asked.

I shrugged.

He looked at the whiskey bottle lying on the table. There was still some left. Chazu righted the bottle and screwed the cap back on.

“'Cause you,” Sookie mumbled.

“Aw, fuck,” sighed Chazu, “not this again. Duk Hee never gave me this much trouble.”

Sookie screamed, a long wordless howl.

“Shut up!” Chazu yelled. He looked at me. “Shut her up!”

“Don't mention my mother!” Sookie screamed. “I don't want to hear that woman's name!”

Chazu sneered. “Why not? Duk Hee. Duk Hee. Duk Hee.”

Sookie tried to climb over the table to scratch at Chazu, but ended up sprawled in spilled beer and whiskey.

“Clean yourself up.” He rubbed his eyes like he was tired.

“No!” Sookie wailed. “I dirty. Dirty girl!” She rolled on her back on the table, soaking in the liquor. She pointed a finger in Chazu's direction, her arm flailing wildly. “You made me dirty inside.”

“Get a shot,” Chazu said. “No big deal.” He went into the kitchen and came back with a sponge to wipe the table. “It's what your mother did.”

Sookie screamed again, over and over.

Chazu threw the sponge at her. “Shut up!”

“Fine, you want me to shut up, I shut up forever!” Sookie rolled off the table and, wobbling, reached into her shirt to yank out a plastic bag of what looked suspiciously like the dusty herbs I forced her to drink when we were younger.

Chazu's head snapped up. “What's that?”

Sookie shrugged. “Don't know in American—some shit, who knows? Who cares?” Sookie tilted her head, opened her mouth, and emptied the bag into her mouth. A cloud of fine dust billowed about her face. Her cheeks bulged and she gagged as she tried to swallow it.

Chazu ran around the table, reaching Sookie as she dropped to the floor. She began to shake and groan. She grabbed at her stomach, stuck her tongue out, and dry-retched.

Chazu knelt by her side and wrestled her into his lap. Her limp arms spilled over the sides of his body. “I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry,” he crooned. “You're my girl, you're my little wife. The others don't mean nothing to me.” Chazu looked up at me and asked, “What do we do?”

I almost laughed, but I remembered how scared I was when Sookie first ate those herbs and began seeing colors on the road to school. I looked into her face, expecting to see a wink or a glare to silence me. Instead her eyes rolled back. My breath caught in my chest; I wasn't sure anymore that she was faking. “Carry her. Toilet,” I said, gesturing to the bathroom.

He lifted her and rushed into the small room, placing her into the tub. He overwhelmed the space and I had to climb over his feet to get next to Sookie.

“Go,” I told him, pushing him out the door. “I take care.” I closed the door on his face, then turned on the shower, letting cold water drench through Sookie's clothes and hair, and stuck my finger down her throat.

She gagged and pushed my hand away. “What're you trying to do, kill me?” she slurred.

“Chazu thinks you're going to die,” I said. My hands fluttered around her, unsure of where to land. I placed two fingers across her neck, and was reassured by the vibrant pulse of blood under her skin.

She moaned, then whispered, “Good. I'm teaching him a lesson.”

“He's going to kill you if he finds out you're faking,” I scolded, whispering.

“Who's faking? I feel like shit; I could die from that ground-antler crap.” She stuck her own finger down her throat and threw up a stream of yellowish bile flecked with black clots.

Chazu pounded on the door. “You okay, Sookie? Sookie?”

Sookie panted, then wiped the drool hanging down her chin. “No,” she said, answering in Korean. “I will never be all right again.” She closed her eyes and let herself fall back into the water. “Get out of here.”

“You want me to leave you alone for a few minutes?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I want you to leave for good.”

I frowned at her face, willing her to open her eyes, to face me. “I don't understand. Why—”

“Hyun Jin,” she whispered, “I am becoming my mother. I have to go to the Monkey House.”

“I can't believe your father would send you out into the street with nothing,” Lobetto said. He put his arm around me and clucked in sympathy. “I remember when we were little, how he would give you everything. You were so spoiled.”

“You were the spoiled one.” Irritated, I shrugged his arm from my shoulder. “Always flashing your money in my daddy's store, buying stuff for your friends.” I turned on him, wanting to make him hurt like I hurt. “Well, where are your friends now?”

Lobetto cocked his head, eyeing me from under his bangs. “Guess I'm like you, Hyun Jin,” he said. “I've got nobody.”

My stomach felt sour. I looked up, a last glance at Sookie's apartment.

“That's why you called for me, isn't it? You've got nowhere else to go?” He started walking, dragging his feet in the dirt. The sun hadn't yet struggled above the horizon; the dust he kicked up, the air, the streets, our skin, everything was tinged gray in the pallid light.

I jogged to catch up. “What do you mean, nowhere to go?” I demanded, acting cocky to cover my fear. “You have an apartment. We're going there now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Think you're going to live there, too?”

I felt my face grow hot.

“Go home to daddy,” urged Lobetto. “He'll take you back.”

I narrowed my eyes, stuck out my chin. “Well, I won't take him back.”

“Easy words,” said Lobetto, “but you couldn't make it out here. You don't have what it takes.”

“What?” I snapped, letting words fly from my mouth without thought. “I wouldn't be able to pass out flyers as good as you? Or run cigarettes up to the Monkey House fast enough?” When Lobetto sped up, refusing to look at me, I sucked in a breath and rushed forward. “Wait, I didn't mean . . .”

He whirled, pushed his nose into mine. “You don't know what I've had to do,” he hissed, spittle flecking my face. “You don't know what you'd have to do.”

“Doesn't matter,” I said, moving back a few steps. “I can do anything you can do. I was the best student in school.”

Lobetto shook his head. “Give up, Hyun Jin. This isn't school. You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know about honeymoon. What's the big deal?” I said, repeating what Sookie told me. “You close your eyes and the real you flies away.”

“You think it's that easy?” Lobetto challenged.

“I know it is,” I shot back. “Sookie taught me.”

“Sookie?” Lobetto scowled. “What'd you do? Watch her with Chazu? Join them?”

I blanched, remembering Sookie pinned under Chazu's dark bulk, his hips pumping into hers, their mocking laughter as he called out to me.

“Fine.” Lobetto spat as if tasting something bitter. “I'll set something up at my place. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” I yelped. I almost confessed that I was merely parroting things I had heard. I almost backed down. But I thought how Lobetto would gloat, how he would taunt my big talk. I squared my shoulders and followed him home.

 

I was embarrassed to face Lobetto's mother, but I didn't want to show it. She had prepared a simple soup and rice for her son's dinner and complained when I sat at the table next to Lobetto. “I didn't expect a ‘guest,' ” she grumbled.

Lobetto shoved some rice into his mouth, then washed it down with the spicy soup. Sucking air, he muttered, “Hot, hot, hot,” as he reached for a glass of water.

Lobetto's mother ladled a second bowl of soup from the pot and sighed. “I guess I go hungry tonight.” She dropped the bowl on the table in front of me and glared.

I scooped up a spoonful and blew.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched me lap up the soup. I glared back, reasoning I was working for this meal.

“You don't have any manners,” she snapped at me.

Placing my spoon next to the bowl, I bowed my head in exaggerated politeness. “Thank you for the soup,” I said. “It is delicious.” I picked up the bowl and tipped it to my mouth, slurping. The pungent heat cleared my nostrils.

Lobetto's mother looked from me to her son. She glowered at Lobetto as if expecting him to scold me. Instead Lobetto ate faster. Finishing the meal, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and smiled.

Lobetto smacked his lips as he finished his soup. “Any more?” he asked.

“No! Your friend”—Lobetto's mother grumbled, sneering at the word “friend”—“took the last bit right out of our mouths.”

“Huh,” Lobetto grunted, then pushed up from the table. He stared at me and pointed his chin at the kitchen door.

Feeling myself redden, I frowned at Lobetto, then risked a glance at his mother. She was scowling at her son as well, her mouth gaping over the empty bowls. When he left the room without looking back, her head swiveled to me and her mouth flattened in a thin line. I looked down to avoid her gaze and hurried to follow Lobetto out the door and into the tent.

Stumbling into the darkness, I hissed: “You made it look like we were, we were . . .”

“Fucking?” Lobetto laughed. “Do you want to do it?” He licked my neck, making me jump.