Planet Lolita (18 page)

PS Yellow Peril is worse noise than Head Tax. Greg’s NOT going to squirt my babies, promise. No sex tape either. What am I, some white-trash hotel heiress? Sex tapes are sooo 2002.

That same evening, with the parents both out, I brought the scissors into Gloria’s room. “I’m going to cut it off,” I said, “whether you help or not.”

“I have to pack.”

“You packed yesterday. I watched you. And that’s the most you’ve said to me since the taxi ride under the harbour. How come?”

She shrugged.

“Please, Gloria. Please.”

“Child,” she said.

“Everyone’s unhappy now. Even my sister, and she lives in Toronto. I don’t know what to do about it. Do you know what I should do?”

She pulled me into her chest, probably so I could use her shirt to wipe my leaky nose. “SeeSee, now you have the tears. I have none left. It means I am ready to face my boy.”

“You’ll forgive him.”

“Yes?”

“And save his soul,” I said. To keep from sticking myself with the scissors, I pulled back.

“You really want to cut the hair?” she said.

“All of it,” I answered. “Or most. I’ll never stop chewing if I don’t.”

In the bathroom I insisted on sitting in the tub, not in front of the mirror. “Better not to watch,” I said. “But wait—don’t do it to take revenge on the parentals. I won’t let you this time.”

“This time?”

“I won’t.”

“I cut it for you,” Gloria said.

“Even though I messed up your life?”

“Quiet.”

“You can do a terrible job, make it uneven and leave bald patches, to get back at me. I’ll understand.”

“Quiet,” she said again. But she smiled!

Later, after we’d cleaned the bathroom together, dropping a bag
of hair down the garbage chute next to the elevator, we squeezed onto her single bed. I felt naked and fresh and, having studied my image in a mirror, too much a child to know about brothels or sex workers or the three holes. I felt like a kid and looked like a boy.

“Do I look like Jesus now?”

“You are still prettier.”

“Maybe I should spike my hair with product, like Miguel in his Facebook photo.”

“He wants to be
bankay
,” Gloria said, using the Tagalog word for tough guy. “With tattoos and scars from knife fight.”

“Rachel has a tattoo,” I said. I wanted to keep her talking. “On her arm. It’s Guanyin, the goddess of compassion and muffin-making. Mazu is her reincarnation … I don’t know why I know that …”

“You look more your sister. But please no get any tattoo,” she said.

“You are beautiful, Gloria-in-Excelsis.”

“I am plain. Plain Filipino.”

“You’ll meet a nice man in Batangas City, maybe someone you knew years ago, from high school. He’ll be called Jorge or Arturo, and will have thick black hair and kind eyes, and won’t smoke or drink, except for a few beers. You’ll trust him and he won’t hurt you. He’ll straighten Miguel out, and help Jesus become a great soccer player.”

“Silly girl.”

“I am silly. And stupid. And I can’t live without you,” I said.

That night we did share her bed. Before sliding into the deepest sleep since lying in a tent on Tai Long Wan, the scent of Tiger Balm helping me relax, I traced with my fingertips the twin constellations that occupied Gloria’s face. Excelsis-Major originated at the moles on her left ear, one so prominent people mistook it for a
stud, then moved across two birthmarks on her cheek to the mole buried in her right eyebrow, a baby bird in a nest, dipped south first to her left nostril and next to her upper lip, and ended with the cluster of stars along her jawbone. The faint line that my fingers left behind drew a paper fan, one-quarter open. Excelsis-Minor, discovered at the same age—Mr. Barcley taught us astronomy in grade seven—had more points of connection, eighteen in all, but when linked up by the same fingertips produced nothing so beautiful. And even before I learned in school how massive the universe was, I sensed that stars had to be lonely, separated from each other by too much space and imprisoned within their own gravity. Only lately had I found out that humans were the same. Billions of us side by side, but everyone alone and lonely, and without a clue how we’d ended up so far apart.

“I hate having my own room,” I said, only half-awake. “I wished you’d moved in with me once Rachel left for Canada. I never want you to be lonely, Gloria. I love you too much for that.” I touched the nape of my neck. “Come find me wherever I end up.
Ho-kay?
”

Ho-kay
, she said, although I may have been asleep by then.

20—-12-21 6:50 am
Me:
Wake up, Mom!
Me:
Wake up, Dad!

20—-12-21 7:11 am
Mom:
Can’t you hear me knocking? I hear you and Manga moving around in there. And don’t you want to say goodbye to her?
Dad:
The airport car will be here in five minutes. Want me to pass along any message?

20—-12-21 7:34 am
Mom:
We gave her an envelope. 18 months of severance pay, plus a letter of recommendation on my firm’s letterhead. That has to count for something
Dad:
I thanked her for all she’d done for our family
Mom:
She’s a good person. I know that. She didn’t intend you any harm. I know that too

20—-12-21 7:44 am
Dad:
11 years she’d been with us. Amazing, eh? Never had another helper our entire time here. Kiddo …? YOU GOT TO TALK TO YOUR PARENTS
Mom:
Or not. As you wish. We’ll be waiting …
20—-12-21 9:02 am
Mom:
Just spent an hour on the phone arranging a kennel for Manga. In the New Territories, at the cost per night of a decent hotel. He’ll be well looked after until we return

20—-12-21 9:19 am
Dad:
How about we do a dope deal, you and me. Knock 3 times on the wall, just to let me know you’re okay. Knock twice if you’re not. I won’t tell

20—-12-21 9:32 am
Dad:
No deal with me either?
Mom:
Darling, don’t overestimate our sympathy for you. Zero contact suits me fine. We’ve a thousand loose ends to tie up today …

20—-12-21 9:49 am
Dad:
Aren’t you bored? I bet Manga is chairdog of the bored! What
say we ride bus 6 into Stanley? I’ll put on a SARS mask, if you really want to attend Mass.

20—-12-21 10:02 am
Dad:
Roger that. Over and out

20—-12-21 11:40 am
Mom:
I have, against my better judgment, left some lunch outside your door
Dad:
What, you trained that dog to pee in the sink?

20—-12-21 1:10 pm
Dad:
Enough. I’ve woken Rachel up and asked her to text you. Can you reply to her?

20—-12-21 1:25 pm
Mom:
It’s over, Sarah. Over with Gloria. Over with Mary. We did what we had to. Not for us—for YOU. Please don’t make us feel any more disappointed or exasperated than we already do

20—-12-21 1:36 pm
Mom:
And, darling daughter, I had to be at the office hours ago. I’ll probably be the last one to show up—yes, on a Sunday 4 days before Christmas. This is a real crisis, a real emergency, and I can’t waste any more time indulging your teen moodiness. Consider that iPhone confiscated as well

20—-12-21 2:07 pm
Dad:
Just you and me in the apartment now, kiddo—does that change anything?

20—-12-21 2:21 pm
Dad:
Not in the least? Can’t say I’m not hurt …

20—-12-21 2:40 pm
Dad:
So you know: Rachel has officially declined to intervene … whatever that means … And your mother, typically, has decided to stage her own protest. No contact from her until further notice. I think I’ll take a nap

20—-12-21 4:32 pm
Dad:
I’m baacck. Just outside your door, matter of fact. I can hear Manga whimpering through the wall. Even thinking about holding a pee that long would make me weep too. One of two options, Xixi. You play your ringtone for me, so I know you’re okay, or I go find a couple of guys from the security staff and pay them to bust this door down.

10 seconds. 1, 2, 3, 4—
Dad:
Thanks. Is that a Beyoncé tune? … Now, how about I replace this sad cold lunch with an early dinner. We can order in—pad Thai, Singapore noodles, whatever you like

20—-12-21 5:58 pm
Mom:
Me again. This is cruel to us, to yourself, and to Manga. I assume he has relieved himself all over the bed

20—-12-21 6:11 pm
Rachel:
Promised to stay out of this … but a 12-hour siege, SeeSaw? POINT MADE WITH THE PARENTALS. Now I’m worried about you, and the mutt. He could explode

20—-12-21 7:18 pm
Mom:
You can’t blame me, Sarah—not me alone. I’m not the only culprit … and there wasn’t even any crime

20—-12-21 8:25 pm
Dad:
Is one of Gloria’s sons in trouble with the law? Your sister has been texting cryptic messages about a family situation that may have affected her decision-making with you. First I’ve heard of it

20—-12-21 8:42 pm
Mom:
Too bad about Gloria’s boy. Wish we’d been told. Not that it would have changed anything. But I’m sorrysorrysorry, as I am about most things these days

20—-12-21 8:59 pm
Me (to her first, him second):
Thai Airways Flight 321, departure HK 10:30 am, December 22. Airport arrival time: 9 am. Travel time to Chep Lap Kok: 30 minutes. Meet you at elevator: 8:30. PS: Manga okay. We peed together in the sink

“Oh my God,” Mom said when she saw my hair.

“Well, well,” Dad said.

“Greetings, parentals,” I said. On the countertop I deposited my laptop and phone, for confiscation.

“Who did that to you?” she said.

“Manga, I bet,” he said quickly.

“I’m a homeless Thai boy who stole an amah’s baseball cap,” I said, adjusting the visor. The cap read
JESUS TALKS PILIPINO
instead of
TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS.
“It’s the perfect disguise.”

Dad held out a toasted English muffin. “Hungry?”

“A little.”

Mom sighed. She dangled a SARS mask before my face like a dead rat being held by its tail. “The driver won’t take you—won’t take any of us—if we aren’t wearing these.”

“What about my breakfast?”

“Eat fast.”

In the car, I said one thing only from behind the gauze. “Now I’m an evil sock puppet too.”

“You won’t have to wear it for long,” Dad said.

At the airport I said one thing only as well. “What if you need to reach me in Bangkok?”

“I’ll call the hotel,” Mom answered.

“I didn’t bring my phone either,” he said. “We’ll pick up China knock-offs with local numbers, to keep in touch.”

“Not that you’ll be apart,” she said to him. “Day or night. Even for a second. Correct, Jacob?”

“Correct.”

“I want a Hello Kitty keychain with mine,” I said.

In the dying moments of our Hong Kong life I removed my sunglasses for a final look at the Kwok-MacInnes parental team. They weren’t talking, or touching, or acknowledging any shared concerns. And really, what could such an unlikely pair have in common? Not a time zone or continent. Nor a language or dialect. Certainly not their genderless offspring. Given her mongrel looks, she’d most likely been adopted, perhaps from the Mother Ginger shelter in On Klang, Thailand. Now, defeated by her vicious tendencies and XXX thoughts, and with their own plans in flux—a dog could be kennelled far more easily than a daughter—they were giving her back.

“We’re a super-cute mixed family,” I said. “A magazine photo shoot.”

They both stared.

“We’re the future. Everyone envies us!”

Her hug dissolved into sobs and quivering limbs and, by the weight abruptly forced upon me, near collapse. “This is it, Sarah,” she whispered through her SARS protection.

“Your biggest mistake?”

I felt her nod.

“I didn’t mean to,” I said for her only.

“What?”

“Get epilepsy. I didn’t mean to.”

She choked.

Don’t send me back!
I added to myself. “It’s a tsunami, Dad,” I said to him. “It just is.”

“Better make our way to the gate,” he replied.

News > Local News
HK RESIDENT DETAINED AT AIRPORT
Published: 22/12/20— at 16:52
Online news: Breaking story, 57 minutes ago

Police at Suvarnabhumi Airport detained a 47-year-old Hong Kong resident and Canadian national for questioning after an incident at passport control.

Kwok Ka-Shing, arriving from Hong Kong with his 15-year-old daughter who cannot be named under Thai law, was held for more than two hours after first refusing to submit to a medical examination for SARS, and then turning belligerent.

Informed by immigration officers that he required a letter from the girl’s mother to enter Thailand, Mr. Kwok invited authorities to call a number in Hong Kong belonging, he claimed, to his wife. When officials were able only to leave a message with an unidentified woman, he was detained for further questioning.

Mr. Kwok, described as agitated and possibly intoxicated, mistook the question for an accusation that he had been lying about
the relationship, and had other motives for travelling with a young female described by one witness as “unusually pretty.”

On being corrected—immigration officials deny Mr. Kwok’s allegation that he was physically assaulted—he pleaded the obvious resemblances between himself and the girl, whom he called “90 percent mine.” The youth said she would text or FaceTime her mother to confirm her status, except that neither she nor her father had a phone or computer in their possession.

Kwok Ka-Shing was admitted into Thailand after agreeing not to make a formal complaint, and to submit to a check by police within 48 hours. He provided the name of a five-star Bangkok hotel.

Senior Officer Aroon Pradchaphet, head of airport security, issued a statement: “Contrary to perceptions, Thailand is not an open port for sexual predators or human traffickers. A policy of vigilance must be maintained, especially with regards to children.” Sex with any prostitute under the age of 18 is prohibited.