by Gill Lewis
Kham’s ma glanced suspiciously at the flashlight when she came back in.
“It’s a present,” said Kham. “A get-well present from me.”
Kham’s ma narrowed her eyes at him. “Get washed before supper,” she said.
I sat still while she bathed my cuts and made me drink her sweet, spiced tea. She finished and wrung her cloth in the water. “Do you think you can walk?”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure, but I knew I had to be fit enough for work tomorrow.
She stood up and backed away to the door. “Come for some food when you are ready.”
I watched her walk away and finished the tea. It had a faint taste of lemongrass and ginger, and already my head was feeling better.
I joined Kham and his family at the meal table. Mr. Sone and Kham’s brother had changed from their oiled work clothes. The table was laid with steaming rice and meatballs and a bowl of shredded salad.
Mrs. Sone pushed a plate toward me. “How are you now?”
“Fine,” I said. I didn’t want them thinking I couldn’t work tomorrow.
Kham was watching me. I wondered if he’d made a bet that I’d drop my food on the table.
Mrs. Sone was a good cook. Her fish paste was almost as good as Ma’s. I tasted hot chili, garlic, and ginger, all the things Ma cooked at home.
Kham leaned across toward me. “My brother said before you came here that you would eat like a pig. He said you’d need a trough to eat from.”
“Kham!” Mrs. Sone glared at him.
Kham leaned even closer and lowered his voice. “He said you wouldn’t know how to use the toilet, too.”
“Kham!” Mr. Sone rapped his spoon on the table. “Enough.”
I rolled my rice into a ball and stared into my food. Was that really what they thought of people from the mountains? Did they think we lived like animals?
Mr. Sone sat back in his chair and dabbed his mouth. “So, Tam, what is the Doctor like to work for?”
Kham and Rami stopped mid-mouthful to look at me. They all knew the Doctor. I didn’t want them to know I was scared of him. If he found out I didn’t like him, I could lose my job. “The Doctor is a good boss,” I said. “I am lucky to have him.”
Mr. Sone glanced at his wife. “Well, that is good,” he said. “I am happy to hear he treats you well.”
We ate in silence. Outside, the traffic was still busy. Horns sounded across the street.
“Is he a real doctor?” I asked.
Mr. Sone looked at me. “He went to college.”
Rami stifled a laugh. “For one year,” he said. “His father paid for him to go to medical school, but he got thrown out.”
Mr. Sone shifted in his seat. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“You can buy your way into college,” said Rami. “But you can’t buy brains.”
Mr. Sone glared at him. “Be careful what you say. His father owns the logging trucks that use our garage. He is a good client. We can’t afford to lose his business.”
Rami finished his food and got up to leave. He lifted his motorcycle helmet from behind the door.
His ma cleared the bowls. “Don’t be late back.”
Kham got up to leave too.
“Kham,” said Mr. Sone. “Before you go, I have a job for you.”
Kham groaned, as if he knew just what job his father had in mind.
Mr. Sone left the room, went to his office, and came back with a pile of leaflets. He pushed some money across the table. “That’s how much I’ll pay you. I won’t negotiate the price.”
Kham stuffed the money in his pocket and picked up the leaflets. I got up to leave too, and Kham’s ma pushed a bowl of bananas toward me.
“Take one for later,” she said.
I thanked her and took one, glad to get back to the peace of my own room.
I’d hardly sat down on my mattress when Kham knocked and burst through the door. He was carrying the pack of leaflets. He shut the door and sat down next to me.
“Now then, Tam.” He glanced at the door as if he expected someone to follow him. He held up the leaflets. “How would you like to earn a bit of money for yourself?”
I frowned at him. I could see where this was going, but I could do with the money.
“Okay,” said Kham. He leaned forward, holding up the money. “I have a deal. You distribute the leaflets, and I’ll pay you half of this.”
I looked at him. It hardly seemed fair.
Kham could see I wasn’t convinced. “It happens all the time in business,” he said. “I’m the middleman.”
I stared at the money in his hands. He was offering me half of it.
“Take it or leave it,” he said.
I needed the money. “I’ll take it,” I said.
Kham grinned. “Then, my friend, we have ourselves a deal.”
I didn’t mind delivering the leaflets. Kham said he’d come with me this first time, to make sure I didn’t get knocked down again. It gave me a chance to get out and see some of the city and ease my bruised legs. I followed him along the streets leading toward the city center. I shoved leaflet after leaflet onto car and truck windshields. The leaflets showed a picture of Kham’s father standing next to shiny motorbikes and cars for sale. He was dressed in a suit and looked much younger than he did in real life.
We passed roadside stalls setting up for the nighttime markets. There were stalls selling cooked meats and snacks, and others selling washing powder and brushes and soap. I slowed at one stall to look at embroideries and silks in colors I hadn’t seen before. Ma would love it here. I thought that if I ever earned enough money, I would come back here and buy these for Ma. I took the money Kham had given me and bought a spool of silver thread. Maybe I could buy one every time I delivered leaflets.
The sun was setting as we headed back. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and cedar. At the far end of some streets I caught glimpses of the Mekong, a strip of burnt orange reflecting the sunset sky. I walked back, hands in pockets. I had the spool of silver thread and a little money for myself. For the first time in my life, I felt rich.
In my room I peered across at the bear farm, hidden in darkness, silent too. I wondered about Mama Bear. She hadn’t eaten all day. I felt for the keys on the string beneath my shirt.
No one would know.
I stuffed the banana and the flashlight Kham had given me into my pocket and kept in the shadows as I crossed the road to the bear farm. I glanced around to check no one was watching, then unlocked the padlock and slipped through the gates. I pulled open the sliding door of the bear building. It was dark inside, dark and silent. I didn’t dare put on the lights. Someone might see from outside. I couldn’t hear the bears. What if they had gotten loose? What if Biter had found his way out of his cage and was waiting for me?
I reached into my pocket for the flashlight and shone it ahead of me and walked along the aisle between the bears. I could hear their steady breath as I passed.
“It’s only me, bears,” I said in a low voice. I squashed the banana beneath my fingers so Mama Bear would find it easier to eat. I shone the flashlight in the cages as I passed. Bear eyes reflected back, like small moons. Biter growled, low growls from deep inside his chest.
I reached Mama Bear’s cage. Her fur was pressed against the bars, her paw outstretched toward me. I shone my torch into her eyes, but they were glazed and dull.
Her outstretched paw was cold and stiff.
I felt a sickness deep inside.
I scrunched my hand into her fur and closed my eyes.
I felt it was my fault somehow, that I’d let her down.
Mama Bear was dead.
The Doctor was furious.
He paced up and down between the cages and glared at me. “You’ve only been here three days and already we have a dead bear.”
I stared at the floor. I clenched my hands in fists. I’d told him Mama Bear was sick, but he’d done nothing. I could see Asang out of the corner of my eye. H
e was keeping his head down, hosing the drainage channel, even though I’d already swept it clean this morning before he’d arrived.
The Doctor kicked a bucket across the concrete, scattering bear food. It clanged against the far wall, spinning the gruel of watery rice across the floor. The bears jumped and hooted in their cages. The Doctor lifted Mama Bear’s head and dropped it down again. “How much do you think it costs to buy another bear?”
I swallowed hard.
“Too much,” spat the Doctor. “I can’t afford a new bear, and I will get less money now with one less bear, so you two will get less. Understand?”
Asang kept his eyes on the ground and kept on with his sweeping. I just stared at Mama Bear, kept staring until the Doctor turned on his heels and walked away.
Through the bars I watched him walk out into the yard and cross to the office. The bears stared after him, panting in their cages and turning tight circles. I hoped the Doctor would get on his motorbike and leave us for the day, but the beep of a car horn stopped him as a sleek black car slid through the open gateway. An armed guard climbed out and opened the passenger door for a suited man to step out onto the yard. The suited man straightened his jacket and brushed the creases from his trousers. I recognized him, even though he wasn’t in his general’s uniform. I stepped behind the doors and looked through the crack to get a better view.
I turned to Asang. “I know that man.”
“General Chan?” He leaned on his broom and looked at me. “Everyone knows the general.”
I frowned and watched the Doctor and General Chan walk into the office. “What’s he doing here?”
“General Chan comes every week,” said Asang.
I watched the general leave the office carrying a packet and climb back in his car. The window slid up and he was hidden behind the tinted glass.
Asang lit his cigarette. “General Chan’s daughter is sick. He comes every week for bear bile. The doctors say it is the only thing that can save her now.”
I couldn’t imagine General Chan having a daughter. I thought of Mae and Sulee. How would I know if they were sick? Would the general know? Would he tell me? Would he even remember who I was?
Asang drew on his cigarette and flicked the ash onto the floor. I watched the smoke spiral upward and escape through the skylights to the small blue patch of blue beyond. I wondered if Mama Bear had ever seen the sky, if she’d seen the moon or felt the earth under her feet.
“What will happen to Mama Bear now?” I asked.
Asang glared through the open sliding doors at the Doctor. “He’ll sell her gall bladder to Mr. Phomasack at the medicine shop. He’ll sell her meat and fur to the market and her paws to the top hotels, where they like to serve bear-paw soup.” He stubbed his cigarette on the floor. “The Doctor will get his money back and more. There is no need to dock our pay.”
Asang hauled Mama Bear onto the cart and wheeled her away. I didn’t want to see what he did with her. I said I’d feed the other bears. I scraped what I could of the rice from the floor. The bears plunged their noses into their feed trays and slurped with their toothless gums. I sprayed them with water from the hose and let them lick it from their fur. I tried to get Mama Bear’s cub to eat, but he wouldn’t eat at all. He turned his back. He didn’t sway from side to side or bang his head against the bars. He lay still, his head on his huge paws, just staring through the bars at the stained dark concrete of the wall.
Life at the bear farm gave way to routine. I’d be at the farm by dawn, cleaning and feeding the bears. Asang hardly came in. He made sure he came the days the Doctor came. Twice a week the Doctor would come to milk the bears. I grew to hate those days as much as the bears did. When they saw the Doctor and heard his metal bar clanging along their bars, they’d hoot and moan. Biter would slash the air with his claws. He’d lash at anyone: Asang, the Doctor, and even me.
I learned how to bottle the bear bile and how to dry it out to make bear-bile flakes and powders. The Doctor packaged it all to take across the border to his hometown in Vietnam. He said they paid double for bear bile there. General Chan came every week for bile for his daughter. He always saw me, but I didn’t think he recognized me. I was sure he’d forgotten who I was.
I’d wait for the Doctor to leave, and I’d go back to the bear farm late in the evenings to take fruit I’d bought at the market with the money I earned delivering leaflets for Kham’s father. When Kham’s father found out Kham was only paying me half the money to deliver the leaflets, Kham’s father paid me instead. I don’t think Kham minded. He was thinking up another of his money-making schemes by then.
I’d feed the bears papaya and banana. They liked melon, too. It wouldn’t fit through the bars, so I’d have to unbolt the cages, open the door just a crack, and slip it in. It took them ages to bite into the round sides. It didn’t slip through the bars, and it became a game to them, patting the melon with their paws, chasing it around their cages. I think even Mama’s cub seemed to like his melon. I never dared open Biter’s cage. I cut melon up for him instead.
The bears got to know me. I’d call out, “It’s me, bears, only me.” And they would snuffle their noses against the bars, putting paws through for treats of fruit. I got to know the bears too, not just Biter and Mama’s cub, but all seven of them, all their different characters.
I gave them names instead of the numbers on their cages. There were Jem and Jep—two brothers, I thought. When they slept, they liked to press against the bars to be as close as possible, paws outstretched toward each other. There was Mii, a huge female bear. She only had three paws, and fur was missing from her head and all around her back. I often saw her sitting on her haunches, pulling out great tufts of hair. Nok had a missing paw too. She liked to watch the small birds that sometimes fluttered high up in the roof space. She would lie on her back and stare upward all day long. Hua was a young bear, the smallest in the farm. He was the clown. He liked to roll over and over when I was near. He’d hoot and mock charge at me when I walked near his cage, and if I ever dared to come too close, he’d swat me with his paw.
Some evenings I’d run other errands for Kham. I’d sweep his father’s garage yard and clean and polish the cars. The yard was always busy, with a steady stream of cars and trucks and especially the logging trucks, brought in for new tires or brakes or busted axles. I spent some of the money I earned on the fruit and treats for the bears, but I also saved enough to buy a bolt of red cloth that I knew Ma would like. If I saved hard enough, maybe I could even pay for a trip to take it to her.
Then one evening, when I was helping Kham clean his father’s car, three logging trucks rolled in. Kham rubbed his hands and grinned. We’d earn good money cleaning those. I watched the trucks’ huge wheels roll past us, covered in the red mud of the forests, bringing the deep rich smell of the earth. A place that felt so far and distant from me now.
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, filling my lungs.
I wanted to be back in the forest. I wanted to find a way back to the mountains and the deep rich earth, but it seemed an impossible dream.
I didn’t know it, but bundled in a crate and hidden in a space beneath the last truck that rolled in, Good Luck had just arrived.
I was surprised to see the Doctor at the garage yard that evening. He pulled up on his motorbike by Mr. Sone’s house. The sun had set behind the roofline, and only a thin strip of gold lay in the western sky. The yard floodlights threw long double shadows across the yard. The Doctor walked across, swinging his hips, his thumbs hooked in his back pockets.
Mr. Sone put his head up from the hood of a car, and I could see Mrs. Sone watching from her window. I glanced at Kham and put my cloth back into the bucket and stepped away from his father’s car. I didn’t want the Doctor to think I was earning money from Mr. Sone too.
A man from one of the logging trucks jumped down from his cab to meet the Doctor. I recognized him from the logging station where I’d gone with Pa to trade bush meat with the
workers. He was a big man with a tiger tattoo on his shoulder and greased-back hair. I stepped back into the shadows and watched them deep in talk. I could see the Doctor shake his head and turn to walk away. He walked slowly, kicking up the dust with his heels. The driver called him back and spoke some more and pointed to his truck.
The Doctor looked back at me in the shadows. “Mountain Boy,” he yelled. “Over here.”
I glanced at Kham. I hadn’t thought the Doctor had seen me here. I wiped my hands on my shorts and walked across the yard. The Doctor paced in circles. “Help them get the crate,” he barked.
I followed the driver and crouched with him beneath the truck. Between the huge wheels, a small wooden crate was fixed to the underside of the truck with metal brackets. The driver pulled out the crate, and I helped him slide it across the ground to rest in front of the Doctor.
The Doctor put his hands on his hips and kicked the crate. “Open it.”
The truck driver slid the top of the crate to the side, and we all peered in. Even Kham had plucked up courage to come and look. At first all I could see was a bundle of old towels and a few chunks of squashed banana. The towels squirmed and moved. Something was beneath them. The towels were stained with a yellowish, stinking liquid. I covered my nose to hide the smell.
A small black paw poked out from beneath the towels. A dog? A puppy? The truck driver pulled the towels away and dumped them on the ground beside him. But I couldn’t take my eyes from the creature inside the crate. It was almost puppy-like, but too big to be one of the village pups of home. It was curled up, with fine black hair covering the folds of skin across its body, folds of skin it would have to grow into. Its nose and mouth were soft and pink. Its short, chunky legs ended in large paws with fine, needlelike claws. The pads were soft and hairless, creased and pink. It wasn’t a puppy at all.
The Doctor reached in and pulled on one paw to turn the creature over, showing the crescent of white fur on its chest.
I sank down on my knees and held on to the side of the crate.