Obligations

by Cheryce Clayton

  The woman who took the center seat beside Lui Moih-Gan did not look happy at sitting next to a child, even when Lui Moih-Gan smiled shyly at her. The woman was middle-aged and very thin, wearing a severely cut suit dress; she made a point of pulling all available material away from Lui Moih-Gan.

  The man who sat in the aisle seat was old, with white hair cut short and wrinkles on his hands. Lui Moih-Gan watched him from the corner of her eye as she pretended to stare out the window. He opened his briefcase on his knees and began reading.

  Nothing was said between the three as the seat belt sign flashed back on and the attendant began speaking at the front of the plane.

  When she woke up it was to bright sunlight streaming through her window as the plane banked into its approach pattern. The Captain was apologizing for the delay and said it was three o’clock local time. “Thank you for flying Asiana Airways flight three five four originating in Taipei and terminating in Los Angeles.”

  Lui Moih-Gan sat very still as the other passenger’s stood and tried to shove their way into the aisle politely. The husband of the old woman stood and pushed the business man into the sharply dressed woman standing beside Lui Moih-Gan. The American made his way down the aisle sideways with no regard for anyone else. The other passengers mumbled their apologies and bowed, but she could see their disgust and loathing for the fat man.

  Lui Moih-Gan stood as the last passenger was bowed out the door by the lead flight attendant. She began to climb on the chair arm to reach her bag over her head, but one of the other attendants chastised her in her own language. Lui Moih-Gan stood still in the aisle as the woman reached for her bag. Her bladder had begun to ache, but she followed the woman out of the plane and to the ticket counter. The attendant dropped her bag at her feet and then flagged a skycap.

  “Give him your baggage ticket,” the attendant said in an urban Taiwanese dialect.

  Lui Moih-Gan handed her ticket envelope and passport to the attendant who ripped out the stubs.

  “When he comes back, give him five dollars. You do have American dollars, don’t you?”

  Lui Moih-Gan reached into her little purse and pulled out several hundred dollars in U.S. currency.

  “Don’t wave that around! America is full of thieves.” The attendant shoved Moih-Gan’s hand back into her purse, before separating out a five dollar bill and placing it in Lui Moih-Gan’s other hand.

  “Are you expecting someone, or do you need a car?” the attendant asked with an impatient glance at her watch.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, looking around for the brother she had never met.

  “Well, I have to go now. I’ll ask the counter man to keep an eye out for you. Listen to me; do not leave this area alone. It’s dangerous for little girls in this country. Do not accept any offers for a ride, and if you take a cab, make sure it’s an expensive one. Do you understand me?”

  The attendant was leaning over Lui Moih-Gan, and her fierce expression was far more frightening to the girl than the surrounding chaos that was the visible portion of the airport.

  “Yes.” She did not think she spoke loud enough to be heard and was preparing to speak again when the attendant straightened her shoulders and moved to speak with the man behind the information counter.

  “She’s a dump, make certain no pervert picks her up before she gets tired and then get her a cab. Okay?” the attendant prompted in accented English.

  Lui Moih-Gan followed the conversation above her without looking away from the sprawling mass of humanity that surged past on the concourse.

  “How do I guarantee that the cabbie isn’t the pervert you’re worried about?” the young man asked with a smile.

  Lui Moih-Gan stared up at him as he spoke. His voice was deep, and his tanned face was accented by his bleached hair. She decided he had not been an adult for very long and returned to staring at the people around her.

  “I wish I knew. Look, I have to run for my login. Just try and take care of her, okay?” the attendant flipped her wrist up and looked at her watch again as she finished speaking.

  “If no one shows in an hour, I’ll call the cops. They can sort it out. Deal?”

  The attended nodded her head impatiently before turning and speaking in the same Taiwanese dialect.

  “If no one comes for you, the police will take you to your home. Do you understand?”

  This time Lui Moih-Gan was certain she did not wait for a response.

  “Make certain they sent a female cop, you never know.” The attendant left the counter area with that comment in English and walked into the crowd.

  Lui Moih-Gan followed her with her eyes until the throng of people obliterated her. Looking back to make eye contact with the counterman she remembered she needed the use the restroom. She turned back to watch humanity flow past without saying a word to the already busy man.

  #

  Lui Moih-Gan was sitting on her luggage, leaning against the side of the counter, and watching the man across the way take something out of the pocket of an unsuspecting woman when a man in uniform spoke.

  “This the kid?” he was tall, and she had to tip her head back to see his round, black face and his white teeth as he grinned down to her. The other officer was waiting for the counter man’s answer; she was almost as tall but much thinner. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and Lui Moih-Gan decided she might be North American Spanish.

  “Yeah, the flight came in over two hours ago, no one’s showed up. Looks like she got dumped. We get them every now and then, you know.”

  Lui Moih-Gan was still watching the female officer as the woman wrote something in a small notebook she then placed into a pocket.

  “She speak English?” the large black cop turned to the counter without looking at Lui Moih-Gan again.

  “I don’t think so. Here are her flight papers and passport; she gave them to a stew earlier.” The man reached under the counter and handed the male officer the papers before turning to help another flyer.

  “Student visa, it figures. Here’s an address, grab some bags and let’s go.” The woman was reading the papers upside down. They stooped and picked up Lui Moih-Gan’s stuff without saying anything to her. She was forced to walk very fast to keep up, and the whole time her abdomen was burning.

  #

  “You ever been in one of these houses?”

  Lui Moih-Gan was not the only one in the car who stared at the widely spaced two and three story houses that sat like fortresses upon small hills on either side of the street.

  “I responded to a homicide in this neighborhood once, a domestic mess that never made the papers,” the female officer said without looking away from her driving.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Turn left here. Man, this must be Gook Street.” The black officer nodded his head as they drove past a small Asian woman pushing a stroller and trailed by three even smaller children.

  “Hey!” the female nodded her head back to indicate Lui Moih-Gan as they pulled into the long driveway of a large formal looking house.

  “Yeah, sure. If they're this rich, why didn’t they send a car, shit,” the male officer said but did not turn to look at her.

  The car came to a stop under an overhanging that protected the front doorway. Before they could get all of the baggage out of the trunk, an elderly woman opened the front door.

  “What is the problem officers?” the old woman wore a white starched dress.

  “She’s been sitting down at LAX for hours, thought we’d give her a lift, is all. Any family members home?” the female officer stepped forward and began speaking to the maid.

  “Her worthless brother is out drinking. He told me she was to come this week but he did not say today. He is a member of a gang, a tong they are called.” The maid crossed herself.

  Lui Moih-Gan bit her lip to keep from crying or peeing her pants. Already she felt a dampness seeping through her underwear.

  “Yeah well, give us a call if there’s any prob
lem. We have to run now. She’s all yours,” the female officer finished speaking and turned to the car.

  The male officer smiled down to Lui Moih-Gan and then went to the trunk of the car. He came back from the car and handed her a small stuffed bear wearing a police uniform.

  “Why’d you do that?” His partner asked, standing half in the passenger door.

  “The poor kid looks like she’s about to cry. Remind me to look up her brother and introduce myself sometime,” the black cop said with a parting smile in Lui Moih-Gan’s direction as he got into the car.

  “Step in line,” was the last Lui Moih-Gan heard as the cop rolled up the window and drove down the driveway.

  “Moegan? Follow, please.” The old woman’s English was strongly accented, and Lui Moih-Gan turned toward the door of the house.

  When she reached for her smallest bag, the old woman gave an inpatient sigh and said “no” before walking away.

  The entryway was all wood, and she ran her hand along the banister as they climbed the stairs that were the centerpiece of the large room. Each step dampened her panties a little more, and she felt a single tear begin to trace its way down her cheek as she entered the room the maid indicated. The large bed with white pillows and blanket dominated the room. There was an adult sized computer desk complete with printer and fax in one corner, and a matching black dresser in the other corner. Under the window was a bookcase full of reading material appropriate for someone much older than her nine years.

  “Moegan,” the maid said, bringing her attention to the bed and an envelope that was lost in the sea of white.

  When Lui Moih-Gan walked to the bed, her abdomen burning, and her panties damp, the maid turned and closed the door behind her.

  Dear sister,

  Sink or swim. That’s what this country is all about. You seem to be swimming fine, little girl. This is your ATM card, the code number is 7746. I told our dearest father to set you up with a separate account so you could learn to handle your own money, and so I wouldn’t have to deal with your every need. $1000 a month, mail them your report card. Your grades go down, he sends less money. He sends a bonus for straight A’s. I’ll meet you after school Monday; enjoy your first weekend in the land of opportunity, little sister.

  The letter was unsigned and written in very sloppy English. As Lui Moih-Gan finished reading it, she felt her bladder give way and the stinging hot fluid course down her leg. She stood holding the letter in her hand without crying, until hours later she noticed the room was dark.

  She climbed up into the bed without undressing and stared at the ceiling.

  Renewed pressure on her bladder roused her from the almost sleep. And Morgan became dizzy as she realized that she inhabited an adult body. Sitting back down on the dirty white sheets, she put her face into her hands and whispered to herself, “It’s only a dream.” She said this three times before the tears began.

  Chapter Seventeen - Bystocc – 2012

  “Come on, Amigo. It’s right there.” Enrico sat alone in the dark of a nursery viewing room.

  The Sansheren child sat near the glass and stared back at him.

  “It’s right there, just get up and get it.” Enrico pointed at the small food animal that cowered in the far corner of the nursery.

  The child shifted its gaze to his fingertip.

  “If you don’t eat, they will kill you,” his comments were interrupted by the opening of the viewing room door behind him.

  The Sansheren child responded to the sudden light by darting into the already occupied corner, and the food animal fled with a loud squeal into the center of the room.

  “Does she hunt?” Aldera asked, but Enrico could hear no hope in her voice as she closed the door behind her.

  “No. Why can’t you put dead food in the room? You did for Mistrata yesterday.” He did not shift his gaze from the child who was moving back toward the glass.

  “Mistrata is nearly five years since her first parent’s travail, it was her time. This child is too young to be approaching the change. Soon its hunger will drive it to hunt.” Aldera ended the sentence with a sigh.

  “But then it will be too late. You’ve already decided, haven’t you?” his accusation was greeted by a slow nod of acknowledgment. “Then what would it hurt to feed it?”

  The child was back at the glass, looking from one to the other.

  “What would it hurt? You ask me to defy common sense, to risk creating another Tadesde. If the child is not advanced enough it is best that–“

  “Wait! If it is medically possible for your species to regress genetically, then what are the chances of a child being more advanced?” Enrico moved from his seat to kneel in front of Aldera.

  “There have been a few, whose brilliance could not be denied. I will not bore you with history. But even those few did not leave the hunt behind until well within their fourth year. This child cannot be even three.” Aldera turned her eyes away from Enrico’s pained gaze and shot a questioning look at the child.

  “How do you know?” he asked as he moved to regain his seat.

  “Know?” Aldera asked as she stood and moved to the glass wall.

  The child scooted back.

  “Know how old it is? Why can it not be real small, like the old patron who works in the kitchen upstairs?” Enrico watched as Aldera held up a hand against the glass and the child responded in kind.

  “It is possible. Still, the child is an orphan. What kind of life will she enjoy living on the charity of the House?” Aldera stifled a smile as the child bumped its head on the glass it could not quite focus on.

  “By custom, anyone can adopt an orphan, true?” Enrico moved to the glass.

  Staring at the child, he missed Aldera’s frown.

  “True, although it is generally accepted that an apprentice will not acquire any new responsibilities before being freed from her master.” Aldera took her hand from the glass and placed it on Enrico shoulder.

  “But it is a custom that can be ignored. Right? A child in need takes priority. That’s how the custom is enforced, correct?” Enrico looked from the child to Aldera, and back.

  “You are within the law if you choose this path,” Aldera’s voice dropped as she spoke. “My friend, please, do not do this.”

  In the end, she left Enrico standing at the glass.

  His vigil ended an hour later when a small slot opened on the far wall of the room, and a dart struck the child from behind.

  #

  “I would ask as to the health of your newly adopted child,” Neavillii spoke from the doorway, and he heard her anger.

  “She ate, and played with some toys, then fell asleep. Aldera said he thought it was a promising first day.” Enrico refused to turn from the computer screen he was studying.

  “Indeed. It is customary that an apprentice not accept new responsibilities without the knowledge and consent of her master.” Neavillii moved across the room and turned the computer off.

  “So I was informed, my most generous and understanding of patrons.” Enrico bowed his head and moved to kneel, only to be halted by Neavillii’s quick grasp upon his arm.

  “Then why did you not discuss this with me?” Neavillii sat beside him.

  “I did, last night. And the night before. You did not show an interest in the subject, my patron.” Still, he kept his head bowed.

  “You spoke of a regressive during the dinner hour, and I told you the subject was distasteful. You never said anything about adopting this child.” Neavillii tilted her head to the side in an attempt to see his face.

  “I spoke of a child who needed help. You did not offer,” and he looked up quickly, startling them both.

  “Then I am to fault. You have my apology. What is to happen now?” she reached her hand forward to stroke his cheek, and he knew he flinched, if only slightly, when she pulled away.

  “Aldera said that he would give me a week, no more. I would ask permission to spend my time at the nursery.” He placed his hand o
n hers, as an apology for the flinch.

  “Custom requires it. You are released from your studies for the week; do not expect more.” She smiled before standing and offering her hand.

  “Thanera asks that you join her for dinner. I have already eaten.” He ignored her hand and turned on the computer.

  “Indeed.”

  He stared unseeing at the computer as she walked from the room. It was several minutes before he could focus on the screen enough to read the study of Sansheren childhood he had called up. And several more minutes before he realized he would need to reread the page.

  #

  “Captura, captura.” Enrico sat on the floor of the nursery and rolled the ball to his adopted child.

  The child watched it roll by. Five days had passed, and the child’s progress astounded him.

  “Capt, capt,” the child whispered and rolled the ball back to Enrico.

  “You might want to focus on teaching her Sansheren words before your own.” Aldera’s voice echoed through the intercom.

  “I concede the wisdom of your advice. Have you come to pass judgment?” Enrico asked without turning his gaze to Aldera, who was standing on the other side of the glass.

  “I came to watch, that is all.” Aldera sat down on a lounge.

  “Oh. Here, say it this way Amigo: catch.., Catch,” and this time he spoke to the child in Sansheren as he rolled the ball.

  The child ignored him and moved to stare out the glass at Aldera.

  Aldera smiled and waved.

  The child raised its hand as if to wave, and then sat with a thud as it stared at its own hand.

  “That is your hand. Hand.” Enrico crawled over to where the child sat and held up his own hand.

  The child touched his thumb before turning its gaze back to Aldera.

  “Hand.” It said in an exaggerated mimic of the Sansheren word, its hand held up and still for Aldera to see.

  “Yes, that is your hand.” Aldera moved to stand beside the glass once more.