Lucky Child (26 page)

As the adults talk, the prospective betrothed sit shyly, facing each other, and size each other up. From her seat, Chou watches Hong cast her eyes down and keep her mouth closed as the two families pick her wedding date, the wedding party, the food, the dowry, and whether the new couple will live with the Ung family or the groom’s family.

Chou smiles with happiness that Hong will marry a man from the village. Her thoughts drift to Cheung, whose marriage was arranged to an outsider; now they see her very seldom. With Cheung living far away, it is harder for the family to help her if her husband beats her. But so far, the family rejoices that her marriage was a good match and that her husband is a kind man and gentle father.

Chou listens as Hong quietly agrees to her arranged marriage. Chou knows that she herself will not question Uncle Leang and Aunt Keang’s choice of a husband when it is time for her to marry. Chou has heard that in the city, some girls fight their elders to choose their own husbands. Chou just doesn’t know how someone at the age of sixteen or eighteen would know how to choose a good husband. And sometimes, if a girl refuses her parents’ choice for too long, she will be thought of as too picky and spoiled, and the men will stop coming to look at her. When girls reach the age of twenty-five and are still not married, the villagers blame them for being old maids and look at them with pity. Chou knows she will not make this mistake.

Still, when it is her time to get married, she hopes Uncle Leang and Aunt Keang will choose someone from the village. To help make this happen,
Chou is very careful not to travel too far from home and only to go to places frequented by local people. She has lost many friends who while visiting Phnom Penh and other places caught the eye of an outsider man. The next thing they knew, the man and his family were at their house having tea. After the tea, if both families agreed on the marriage terms, within two weeks to a few months, they were saying good-bye.

“Thank you so much,” the groom’s mother says as Hong pours tea and demurely offers everyone white sponge rice cake. “What beautiful clean hands you have, young daughter.”

“She is such a hard worker but always keeps her hands very clean,” Aunt Keang beams at her daughter.

Chou’s eyes shift to Hong’s hands resting on top of each other on her lap, palms down. Her hands are the cleanest Chou has ever seen, no dirt in the knuckles or creases, fingernails scrubbed clean, and cuticles pushed up to reveal white and healthy half moons.

When the marriage and dowries have been agreed upon by the two families, they decide that in two months’ time, Hong will marry and leave her family to go live with her husband. After the groom’s family leaves, Chou approaches Hong as she busily folds up their nice tablecloth.

“Do you like him?” Chou asks her cousin.

“He’s a very nice man and comes from a good family,” Hong replies.

“Do you think you’ll like him?”

“Yes, I like him. But I don’t know him. After we marry and have children together, I will like him more.” Chou notices Hong has not mentioned whether or not she finds her future husband handsome. Then suddenly, Hong is still and quiet. Sensing her questions may have caused her cousin to worry, Chou returns to her work.

The next day, Chou returns to the school with Nam hanging on her back. But on this day, he refuses to sleep and cries loudly, disturbing the whole class. All through the afternoon, Chou bounces him on her knees, takes him outside to play, walks around the grounds with him, feeds him soft rice gruel, wrings out his wet underwear, makes faces at him—-just to keep him quiet so she can stay in school. But no matter what she does, Nam screams, distracts the other students, and interrupts the class. After the first hour,
lork kru
stops asking Chou to quiet him down.
Lork kru
also stops glaring at her, addressing her, or looking in her direction. He treats
her as if she is already no longer in the class. After the afternoon session, he quietly informs her that she cannot return to school. No matter how she pleads, he tells her she cannot come back unless she leaves the baby behind. Dejected, Chou ties Nam to her back with her krama and shuffles off the school grounds with her eyes cast down. Behind her, three younger schoolgirls from a neighboring village circle around her on the path.

“Chou!” one of the girls jokes with her, not knowing Chou’s been asked to leave school. “Your eyes are so big. I guess we’d better study hard with our small eyes or Chou will beat us in class!”

Hearing this, Chou swings around and stares at the girl. On her back, the baby stirs and stretches his limbs. With her next breath, Chou reaches into her pocket and stabs the girl in the hand with her pencil. The girl gasps in shock as the pencil punctures the skin and draws blood.

“You’re crazy!” the girl screams, holding her hand in front of her eyes. “You’re crazy!”

As Chou walks away, the baby weighs heavy on her back. She feels better for having unleashed some of her anger, but she’s still mad. Leaving school means much more to her than just not being able to learn along with the boys, for Chou knows that girls who are not in school are often married off earlier than those who are. And now that she has started her monthly, everyone will soon see that her body is ready to bear children. With Nam bouncing on her back, Chou kicks her feet in the dust and resigns herself to leave the world of girls.

18 sweet sixteen

April 1986

“So, heard from Chris about the note yet?” Beth asks, referring to the note I stuffed in Chris’s locker last week.

“Nope,” I reply sullenly. The mere mention of Chris makes my face hot, even though the sidewalk is icy and cold as we make our way to school. “I haven’t seen him all week. I’m avoiding him.”

“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ babe, but I pleaded with you not to write the note and not to give it to him.”

“Yep.” I shrug my shoulders. No matter what Beth says, when it comes to Chris, my brain is mashed up like potatoes.

In hindsight, it was stupid to give Chris the note professing my admiration for his skills on the basketball court and telling him of my crush. But I had just returned from a trip to Montreal the week before and was still flushed with confidence by all the compliments I received from Eang’s friends about my beauty. In the Cambodian and Chinese communities in Montreal, I am popular, beautiful, and funny. During the Cambodian New Year’s celebration party there earlier that month, many Asian boys actually had lined up to ask me to dance! So when I returned to school and Chris smiled at me, I thought that he was seeing me in a different light. Then in my foggy state of mind caused by too many sleepless nights, I pushed my note through the slats of his locker.

“Well, assuming he found it and read it—and let’s not rule out that
there’s a chance he just threw it out with all the trash—so if he read it, he’s nice enough not to make fun of you about it. And he didn’t tack it up on the school bulletin board for everyone to see,” Beth rattles on as I nod my head in agreement.

“I can’t believe I did it. And I can’t believe you let me!” I shoot a pretend angry glare in Beth’s direction.

“Hey, I told you not to! So don’t look at me. And at least the boys aren’t going around calling you Smelly Fish.” With that, we both laugh. Beth’s last name is Poole and the boys somehow have connected it to dead fish floating in a pool.

“Boys are so stupid,” I declare.

“Yeah, they’re stupid! Who cares what they think?” Beth and I stop and look at each other and smile. We both care, but neither one of us wants to admit it.

When we arrive at school, Beth and I go straight to the bathroom. While Beth picks at her hair and sprays the individual strands into place, I change out of my long black pants and white button-down shirt into a form-fitting, floor-length black skirt and tight black sweater. I stand back and observe myself in the mirror.

“Yep, Meng definitely wouldn’t approve,” I say to the mirror and smile. “He’d think it’s an outfit for a funeral and not proper enough for school.” To finish off the look, I tie a tasseled pink scarf across my hips, gypsy-style. Then I let loose my long black curly hair and dangle large silver hoop earrings in my ears.

“You look good,” Beth mumbles while she finishes putting on her lipstick.

“You, too.” I return the compliment.

“So what are you doing this weekend?” Beth presses a sheet of tissue over her lips to even out the color.

“Packing and moving. Nothing fun.” I continue to fuss with my curls.

“Want me to come over to help?” Beth gently peels off the tissues with her lip prints on it and tosses it into the trash can.

“Nah, Meng’s got all his friends coming.”

“Ready?”

“One more day of school and we’re free.” Beth and I smile at each other and head off to class. For the rest of the day I manage to go to my
classes, take my geometry test, eat my lunch, and sweat in gym, all without once running into Chris or hearing anyone laugh about my note to him. When the school bell rings to end the day, I join the stampede of students rushing out the door.

The next two days, Meng, Eang, and I spend our day packing up our lives into little cardboard boxes. By the time the McNultys and Li’s family arrive to load the boxes into Mr. McNulty’s truck to move us into our new home, most of our lives for the past six years have been reviewed, sorted, folded, saved, or thrown out. And by dusk on Sunday, the crew is finished and returns home, leaving us to make our last trip alone.

“Good-bye, closet,” I whisper, and stare at the empty space. “You’ve given me much happiness.” In my arms, I hold a box containing remnants of the private life I lived there—my pictures, journals, drawings, curtains, and clothes hangers. Downstairs, Meng packs the last few boxes into the car.

“Good-bye, room.” I bid my farewell. In the bare room, I see myself as a kid, jumping on the couch and hiding from the monsters under the sheets.

As I survey the apartment, the rooms look small and lonely without all our things in them. I know I will miss this place. It was our first apartment in America, and even though it’s small, for a while I was happy to call it home. It wasn’t until I saw an episode of
Happy Days
on TV that I began to feel differently. In the show, Joanie visited Chachi at his home, and while they were sitting on the couch watching TV, Joanie asked to see Chachi’s room. When he replied that they were already sitting in it, the audience erupted into laughter. At that moment, I suddenly looked at my bed in the open dining room and was embarrassed. I hadn’t realized people might think of our family as poor because I slept in the dining room. With Eang and Meng working, we had a place to live, heat in the house, a new car to drive, clothes to wear, and a refrigerator stocked full of food. But when I heard the laughter on TV, I became conscious of my Salvation Army clothes and started to notice the Laura Ashley dresses and Polo shirts that the other girls were wearing.

But that’s all over now. I’m about to leave the shame behind and move to a place where I’ll have my own room. My own room! The thought
pumps bubbles into my skin and makes me feel light. So with one last lingering look at my closet, I exit my room and walk down the stairs into the parking lot.

“Co’on, Go!” Maria calls excitedly. “Let’s go to our new house!”

“All right! Let’s go!” I holler and climb into the backseat.

“Hey, Mup.” I call Tori “Chubby” in Khmer and kiss her cheek. Eight-month-old Tori is strapped between Maria and me in her car seat, and responds by spitting more drool out of her mouth. From the front passenger seat, Eang reaches over and wipes Tori’s wet mouth with an old cloth diaper.

“Let’s go, Daddy!” Maria urges as the car gently moves forward.

As we pull out of the driveway and pass the cemetery, I silently thank the ghosts and spirits for leaving me alone all these years. On the trees, the green spring buds wave to me from their branches. Above us, the sun shines columns of light to illuminate the headstones, as if to announce my departure.

“Good riddance, graveyard!” I think to myself. “I hope never to sleep next to you again!”

“Good-bye house!” Maria and I call out as Meng takes us out of the complex.

Three minutes and less than half a mile later, we arrive at our new home and our very own driveway.

I gaze at the two-story box-shaped house with excitement and hope. “Maybe with my own house, I can be normal,” I think. Then I unbuckle Maria and together we enter our new home.

Inside, Maria makes her way through the maze of furniture, boxes, and bags on the floor and up the stairs. I run after her and stop at the top of the stairs to quickly glance at the square clean rooms that will be Meng and Eang’s and Maria’s. The rooms are clean and sterile with their white walls and light blue carpet. Their beds and dressers are in their corner positions. I walk past the bathroom and into my room to find Maria sitting on my bed.

“Hi, Kgo!” she calls cheerily, her voice echoing in the empty room.

“Hi, sweetie,” I reply and smile. My corner room basks in fading sunlight in three directions from its four windows. I look out of each and see
into the street, a neighbor’s house, and our backyard. And there is no cemetery in sight!

“My own room!” I exclaim. “My own door.” I swing the door closed and open it again.

“It’s big in here!” Maria squeals and opens my closet door.

“Yep,” I laugh and walk in to see if it’ll fit me in it. It does! I stand in the middle of the room and twirl around until my head becomes dizzy with vertigo. As I fall to the floor, I daydream about getting dressed in my room alone, having a private phone conversation with Li, and listening to Bob Marley cassettes without Eang telling me to “turn that noise off!” When I invite Beth to my house, I can take her to my room!

“Hey sweetie, wanna help me unpack?” I ask Maria, who is lying on top of me.

“Okay.” Maria jumps off me and runs through the sunspots. I watch the soft light dance on her hair and arms. She looks like my angel.

For the next hour, while Maria and I rearrange my room, Meng and Eang organize the downstairs clutter into our home. As they work, the sounds of cardboard boxes being ripped opened, clanging silverware, pots and plates, and doors opening and closing travel through the house. But soon afterward, the noises stop.