Fox Girl (22 page)

Shifting my head, I cracked open my eye to look at her gift. A glass ashtray. “I don't smoke,” I said. When I was pregnant, the smell made me vomit.

“Since when?” Sookie rummaged through her purse and pulled out a bent cigarette.

“Don't light up in here,” I said. I meant to sound mean, but instead sounded tired. “There's nowhere for the smoke to go.”

“Suck it up, baby.” Lifting a match to the stick, she inhaled, then blew. Smoke feathered around my head.

Fanning my hand in front of my face, I coughed to hide my need to gulp it in.

“If you don't want to get up, fine,” Sookie said, “but at least turn around and take a good look at me.” She prodded my back. “Come on, you'll barely recognize me. I've changed.”

Body aching, I flipped over. She seemed like the same old Sookie to me: long, burned-tea face framed with hair that had frizzed when she dyed it red. She was skinnier, maybe, her eyes more sunken, her cheekbones sharper.

Then I looked lower and jolted upright despite myself. “Shit, what the hell happened to them?” I croaked. I pressed my hands against my temples, dizzy from the rush of blood and smoke. I closed my eyes and then opened them again to stare at her chest.

Sookie giggled, straightening her back so that her swollen breasts jutted toward me. “Like 'em?” she asked. It's the newest thing at the Monkey House.”

“You look like a cow,” I mumbled.

“Thanks,” she said. She pinched her nipples. They stuck out like buttons. “I can't feel them anymore, but I figure Chazu will like them. He was always complaining at how small I was before.”

She cupped them, holding them out as if in offering. “Go ahead,” she said. “Touch them.”

I pressed a finger across the top of her breast, where her shirt dipped into her newly formed cleavage. “It's hard,” I said, poking at what felt like a rubber ball just under her skin.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I know some GIs who should get it done to their penises.”

“Did it hurt?” I touched my own breasts, still swollen and tender with the memory of child.

Sookie shrugged. “Doctor just took a needle and shot something in there to pump it up.”

I lay back down. “I'm tired,” I told her. “Go away.”

“You should get it done yourself,” she said. “It'll help you get the GIs when you start at the clubs. The competition is tough.”

“I'm not working.” I tried to ignore Sookie so I could listen for the baby's cries.

“Hungh,” Sookie grunted. “That's not what Lobetto said.”

“Lobetto can go to hell,” I murmured.

“Lovers' quarrel?” Sookie teased. “Only makes the sex hotter.”

I glared at Sookie. “Is that what he told you, that we're lovers? I hate him!” I shouted. The volume made my head ache, so I whispered. “I think he killed my baby.”

“Baby, what do you mean ‘baby'?” Sookie waved her hand as if chasing away a fly. “It was nothing, yet.”

“It was a child.” I clenched my teeth. “And Lobetto killed it.”

“Oh, please,” Sookie said. “It was a smart thing not to have it.”

When I opened my mouth to argue, she held up her hands and talked fast. “What, you were going to raise it in this hell-hole? Hyun Jin, listen: our only hope is to marry U.S., and no GI is going to want you with that weight dragging you down.” She took a breath, then grinned. “At least not that kind of weight.” She bent forward and swung her chest at my face. “You need this kind of weight. I'm telling you, use this for bait and some GI is going to gobble you up.”

“You think those'll make Chazu marry you?” I sneered. “You think those'll make him love you?”

“Chazu or some other Joe,” Sookie said, shrugging. “I'm not going to be like my mother, waiting until Chazu gets bored and dumps me. I'm going to help myself before I get too old.”

 

Sookie returned the next day, and the next, and each day she came, my baby retreated farther and farther into the darkness. I still felt her at the edges of my skin, in the flicker of my blinking eyes, but I couldn't conjure up her image anymore.

Instead, it was always Sookie that I saw, Sookie bearing gifts she smuggled from Chazu's apartment. She lured me out of the tent with them. “Come into the kitchen to see your present,” Sookie cajoled, and I hobbled into the light to see what she had brought for me. They were inconsequential things at first: a few American coins, cuff links, shot glasses, Hanes underwear, which I wore, unwilling to give them to Lobetto though he constantly asked for them.

“Sookie,” I said, fingering my presents. “Won't Chazu know these things are missing?”

But Sookie would shrug it off, saying they were little things. And they were, to him. “Chazu has so much why would he care or even notice if he's missing a pen or a pair of underwear? He can always buy a new one.”

When Sookie got more daring, bringing me reading glasses, a pair of men's shoes, and a blender, I got nervous. “I don't need any of these things, Sookie,” I said. The glasses did look good on me, making me look as smart as I was, but they gave me a headache. The men's shoes became a burden I had to keep hidden from Lobetto who coveted the rich leather. And the blender, its tail of cord hanging limp and useless without an outlet, sat neglected in the middle of the kitchen floor. We became so accustomed to its presence, it became invisible even as we stepped over it to prepare meals or shuffled into the tent to sleep.

Sookie laughed. “Who cares if you need it? It's American!” Sometimes Lobetto would convince us to sell some of the things on the black market, but instead of giving him the money like he wanted, Sookie would buy clothes or candy, cigarettes or liquor.

“Why take the risk?” I asked her as she piled the goods around me. “Chazu would give you all this stuff if you asked.”

“I don't like to ask,” she said, cracking her gum and popping a can of High Life. “It tastes sweeter this way, don't you think?” She plucked the gum out of her mouth and tilted the beer for a long swallow.

“I don't know, Sookie.” But she was right, it did.

 

The last gift she brought over from Chazu's house was the camera. She came to Lobetto's at dusk, dressed in a halter top and denim cutoffs, and swinging that Pentax by its thin black strap. I could tell she had been drinking, but she didn't seem drunk.

“Don't you ever change clothes?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

I wore an undershirt and the pair of boxers she had stolen from Chazu's apartment a week earlier. I was lying in the middle of the floor, listening to Lobetto sing—“Come on baby, light my fire, time to set the night on fi-i-re”—as he hosed off, showering before hitting the streets.

Sookie pinched my shirt between her toes and tugged. “Why don't you make yourself up?”

“For what?” I pushed her monkey toes away and crossed my arms across my chest.

Sookie lifted the camera to her face and pointed it down at me. “For this,” she said. She giggled and snapped the button.

“Stupid,” Lobetto drawled from the kitchen doorway. His hair still dripped water, but he already had a Tootsie Pop wedged in his mouth. Since Sookie bought a bag from the black market, he ate them nonstop. He swizzled the thin white stick and added: “You got to use the flash. When you're inside, you got to use the flash.”

“Go on,” Sookie said to me. She didn't even turn around to acknowledge Lobetto. “Change clothes. I want us to take some pictures. It'll be fun.”

Lobetto sauntered over. “That's a nice-looking camera—expensive. Does Sir Black know you're playing with his toy?”

Sookie jerked away from him when he tried to touch it. “Look but don't touch.” She laughed. “I bet you hear that a lot around the clubs, don't you? It's what all the girls tell you, huh?”

“Shut up,” Lobetto said. “You're just as ugly as you always were.”

I stood and combed the hair away from my face. “Do you know how to work that thing?” I asked her, although I didn't really care.

“Ah, how hard can it be?” Sookie frowned. “I watched Chazu use it hundreds of times. You know, he treats it like a baby.” She held it to her face, smacking her lips against it. “Oooh, aren't you sweet?” she crooned to it. When she saw my face, she stilled. “Oops,” she said. “Sorry. I was trying to get your mind off that whole thing.”

I staggered back. “I'm . . .” My voice trailed off. I thought I heard the wail of an infant. “I'm tired. Going to rest.”

Lobetto shoved Sookie, grabbing the camera from her. “Stupid!” I heard him hiss under his breath. Louder, he announced: “Stay, Hyun Jin. I'll take the pictures.”

“Give it back, you black dung boy,” Sookie protested, but it was weak, halfhearted, and Lobetto didn't let go.

“Really, let me take them,” Lobetto said. “I can make you look good. You and Hyun Jin both. You girls'll be two foxy mamas, I promise.”

Sookie bit her lip, then let go of the camera. “You better do a good job, Lobetto,” she said.

“I guess I should change,” I said, planning my escape.

I turned toward the tent, but Lobetto held my arm. “Wait,” he said. “Just take off the shirt.”

“What?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Okay,” said Sookie. She pulled at my shirt.

“Stop it!” With the shirt tangled around my arms and head, my voice came out muffled.

“It's not like we don't know what you look like,” Sookie said. “It's nothing. We're all family here.”

I yanked off the shirt and glared first at Sookie, then at Lobetto, who was hidden behind the lens. “You're right,” I said, throwing my hands out in surrender. “It's nothing. I'm nothing.”

“I'll make you guys look good,” Lobetto said. “Sookie, get behind her and hold her breasts.”

Sookie stepped back and wrapped her arms around me.

“Don't cover them,” Lobetto ordered. “Lift them.”

I looked down, shamed by Sookie's touch and the relentless eye of the camera. “I don't want—”

“That's good,” Lobetto said as the camera flashed. “That hides your birthmark.”

As the light continued to burst from the camera, Sookie took off her top and moved next to me. I noticed that her chest was looking a little lopsided and then she pressed against me. Lobetto was talking—“I'll develop these, see if I can sell them. You guys really look foxy”—and Sookie was touching me, and the camera was blinking, the shutter moving and clicking, and I had to close my eyes against its shattering brightness.

 

When Sookie and Lobetto dragged me out of the house that night, I forced myself to ignore the tug I felt, the sense that I was leaving my child alone in the dark of the tent. The streets seemed surreal, a dream compared to the image I had held close of that perfect baby. But I let go and almost fell down, feeling light-headed-drunk on air that smelled like piss and smoke and beer and trash.

Out of habit, we headed toward Club Foxa. We waited outside until we could hook up with a group of GIs, looping our arms around the waists of two of the men and sauntering in with them. Sookie and I downed two vodka tonics each—mostly water since the bartender saw who the drinks were for—and Sookie pulled a quick honeymoon. Pocketing the money, we ran out before Bar Mama could track us down and demand her cut. Outside, we ducked into a corner alley and Sookie bent over and got sick.

I'd seen Sookie drink half a bottle of vodka without puking, let alone two glasses of watered-down shit. But I figured she could have started drinking before she came to Lobetto's. She could have started days ago.

We tried Club Angel next, but its Bar Mama saw us as soon as we tried to walk in the door and wouldn't let us in. “You guys aren't even wearing your tags,” she scolded. “I can't let you work even if I wanted to.” She pushed us out into the street. “And I don't want you to. You'd just be stealing money from me.”

“Fuck you,” I said, and Sookie pulled out a roll of bills from her purse and waved it at Bar Mama.

“We were going to buy our own drinks,” Sookie said.

The Angel's Bar Mama spat at us. “You're so stupid you think I don't know that you'd never pay for drinks? You think I don't know you just want to steal business from my own girls? Get the fuck out before I call the officials.”

Sookie stuck her finger out at the closed door of the bar. My feet hurt and I could tell Sookie was still woozy—she kept wiping at her mouth and holding her stomach—so I said, “I'm done. I want to sleep.”

 

Chazu was waiting for her at his apartment. As soon as we staggered through the door, he leaped from the couch and pinned Sookie against the wall. She dropped her purse and the money she made honeymooning spilled out.

Chazu swooped down and scooped it up. “It's true?” he asked. “You been screwing around on me?”

Sookie tried to walk around him. When he didn't move, she pushed him. “I never cheat on you,” she yelled back.

“You're such a liar.” Chazu flung his arm toward me. I flinched though he was far away. “I give you enough so you don't have to work, and you pay me back by fucking around, then lying about it?”

“Hooo, you give me so much?” Sookie screamed. “A few won here, there and you think you big shit! Here, I pay you back.” She threw her purse at his head.

Chazu didn't duck and the purse hit him on the forehead. It bounced and landed near my feet. I picked it up and stood, offering it lamely first to Sookie, then to Chazu. Both ignored me.