“Did you examine those particles for any DNA?”
“I did.”
“What did you find?”
“A few of the particles found on the blouse had traces of An-ling Huang’s saliva.”
Emma
An-ling, wrapped in a towel, sat on a stool in front of my bathroom mirror while I sheathed my hands in plastic gloves and straightened out the damp hair clotted on her head. She had asked me to dye her hair back to black. Around us the apartment was silent except for the occasional diminished rumble of Saturday traffic from Riverside Drive. Tom and Josh were rafting on the Delaware River and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon.
As I combed her hair she bent over the sink. Her towel swooped down to reveal the curve of her buttocks. Between dimples I saw a dark blue mark.
“Did you hurt yourself? You have a nasty bruise.”
She laughed.“That’s a tattoo.”
“Oh.” I squinted down and made out a boat, a junk with blue sails.
“You don’t like it.”
“I don’t like having weak eyes.The tattoo is pretty.”
“When I was little,” An-ling said,“my back was covered with dark marks. A lot of Chinese children have these Mongolian spots. I used to scrub my back very hard to make them go away.They made me feel dirty.”
“You have a clear back now.” I combed the dye through her hair, piled it high on top of her head and set the timer to fifteen minutes. “Why are they called Mongolian spots?”
“When the Mongols invaded China, back in the early times, they killed the men, raped the women, made our children slaves. Ever since, we carry these marks to remind us.Women and men both.We are together, for once, in this ancient shame. But the marks stay only for a short while . . until the third or fourth year. Do you think shame can go away after so little time?” In the mirror, her stare was bright, intense.
“I think it would depend on the reason for the shame.”
“Lying brings shame.” An-ling swiveled on her stool until she faced me, naked except for her towel now on her lap. She had strong shoulders,muscled arms and the jutting hips of a woman, but her breasts were shallow curves, timid rises of skin, her nipples tucked, still in hiding. She was ambiguous, neither woman nor child. Confused by her words, by her nakedness, I wanted to hug her, cover her with renewed tenderness.
“Aren’t you cold?” I reached for a towel on the rack and draped it over her shoulders.
“There are lies to become rich, to be famous, or to make believe you are both.Those are stupid lies.And there are lies as necessary as air. They only help you breathe, nothing more.Those lies are good. Do you agree, Lady Teacher?”
How did she know about such things? She was so young; how did she know?
“Lies are never good.” The timer showed four minutes left before the dye needed to be rinsed out. “At the studio the other day I said you reminded me of someone . . .”
Could I explain to An-ling the bile of guilt I’d been carrying with me all these years and how being with her, helping her, was overwhelmingly sweet?
Before I could say more, An-ling took my hands and pushed them lightly against my breasts, gone soft with age.
“You’re so big,” she said.
Her gesture startled me out of my confessional mood. I stepped back. “Southern Italian genes. I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I always dreamed of being a B cup. I was twelve years old when the boys in school nicknamed me Emma-moo. I didn’t like that one bit.”
“I bet they all wanted to fuck you.”
“If they did I never noticed.” The timer went off and I turned the shower on.“Be sure to rinse until the water runs clear. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
An-ling stood in front of the mirror, the towel now on the floor.“I hate my breasts!”The dye started trickling down her forehead.“Pancakes, pennies, fried eggs. God, I’m ugly!”
“You are beautiful, An-ling. Really, you are.” I swept my thumb across her forehead before the dye reached her eyes.
“Many men will love you.You’ll have to push them away, they’ll be so many.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, I do.Very much.”
“You love me not just because I remind you of someone?
You love me, An-ling Nai Huang, flat-chested crazy girl from Su-kai in district of Xin-hui?”
I turned her around to face me and cupped her chin.“Of course I do. I love An-ling Nai Huang, beautiful young girl from Su-kai in the district of Xin-hui.” She laughed, a little girl made happy so easily. And then she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, a soft sweet kiss on the lips, a kiss Amy and I had shared countless times.
I drew back, ready to tell her to get in the shower. In the mirror,Tom and Josh stared at us.
I registered disgust on Tom’s face.
Tom
We stood in that bathroom doorway no more than twenty, thirty seconds. Then I took hold of my son, pushed him away, out of the apartment, down to the park.We followed the river, made a pretense of looking at the sailboats. It was a clear August day with a breeze keeping the New York humidity under control.A perfect day to go rafting. I cursed myself for getting sick, throwing up on the raft, which was the reason we had come back so early.
I couldn’t find any words to explain, to defuse what Josh had seen. My son had just witnessed his mother kissing that naked girl and no paternal power could change that, no matter how much I wanted to. How could she?
In our home?
The muscles of my arms still burned with the desire to slap Emma, to hit them both, kick them out on the street. I have never considered violence a part of my makeup, but what I saw in that bathroom was so repulsive, so hurtful, so sudden, that I had no defenses ready. I needed to strike out, would have if I hadn’t leaned back and felt Josh’s shoulder against my back in the doorway. My thirteen-year-old son was seeing what I saw. I grabbed his arm so hard I left a bruise.
“Women like to play together,” I ended up saying.“They put on makeup, try on clothes and tell each other how fat or skinny they are.”
“Then why can’t we go home and you get to bed?”
“I’m sure they’re embarrassed being caught like that, An-ling half-naked.”
“Totally naked.”
“All the more reason to give her time to get dressed and leave.There was nothing in it. Just two girls playing.”
“Yeah, pretty dumb, I guess.”
“Some of them never really grow up.”
I threw up in the bushes. Josh loped off to buy me a soda from a street vender.
In the weeks that followed, I convinced myself I had finally knocked my face against the ugly truth of my wife’s relationship with that girl. At night, lying in bed next to Emma,my mind would replay the scene over and over.The girl naked, Emma fully dressed. If I hadn’t walked in at that precise moment, what else would Emma have done with her? My wife’s hands, where were they? I tried to find them in my memory of those thirty seconds,but all I could conjure up was the girl’s expanse of skin shining under the light, in the mirror, close enough to touch, her arms around my wife,Emma’s lips clamped on hers.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that sight. I, who had always prided myself in understanding my wife and my son. I, who strove to be one step ahead of their thoughts, to better protect, take care of them. God damn it! That is a husband’s, a father’s role in life. How did I fail so miserably?
My failure fueled my disgust.
Sitting in this courtroom, I live with the threat that I will lose what I have fought hard to keep whole. I am still revolted, and enraged.At myself this time.
If only that girl had never showed up in our kitchen. If only Emma had behaved responsibly. If only I had kept a better watch on Josh.
If only. The emotions unleashed by those two words could power the greatest storms on earth.
Josh
She’s gorgeous! That’s what came to my head first. Her body—it was something special, some
thing to keep looking at—made me forget anything else. Her skin looked like you could bite into it, and the taste was going to be like whipped cream slipping down your tongue.Touching her that time in the basement—I could feel it in my hands again, how soft and warm she was. In the bathroom, seeing all of her, my heart bounced, became a big fat ball against my lungs. I didn’t breathe, afraid it would burst.
It took me a few seconds to see she and Mom were kissing.
In the park,Dad looked like he’d run into a wall and I didn’t know what to do except tell him he should go home and lie down. I told him I was going to forget the whole thing, but I knew An-ling’s body was going to stay front and center in my head.The rest, it was just kissing. I mean, it wasn’t this earthshaking event; it wasn’t going to turn our lives around.
When Dad threw up, I ran to get him a soda. He got teary and told me I was a good son. He was so totally grateful it made me nauseous too.
That night, thinking about An-ling gave me a hard-on.
Emma
Only sounds. The click of the bathroom door shut in our faces. The slam of the front door trailed by the ringing of the sleigh bells on the knob. An-ling’s startled breaths.
Streaming hot water from the shower clouded the bathroom with steam. I had done nothing shameful, and yet I knew that something had been broken between Tom and me.The look on his face told me that much.
“I’m sorry,”An-ling said. She looked embarrassed.“I didn’t mean anything—”
“It’ll be fine.You better rinse your hair out or it’ll fall off.”
“Do you want me to explain to Tom?”
It would only make it worse.“There’s nothing to explain, An-ling. Go, get in.”
She stepped in and closed the shower door behind her, becoming a blur.
Now I wonder if the downward turn of An-ling’s life can be pinpointed to the moment when Josh and Tom walked in and saw us.
“Are you going to give her up?”Tom and I were in bed after a miserable family evening in a restaurant.
“Give her up? What do you mean? She’s not a drug habit.”
“Isn’t she?”
“She’s someone I care about.”The words came out fuzzy.
I’d drunk too much wine at dinner. “Someone I want to help, that’s all.”
“Kissing her, that’s helping.”
“You have a nasty mind.”
“Me? You’re the dyke.”
That word wrapped itself around me, layer upon layer of implication tightening, leaving me unable to breathe. It took me minutes to answer. I wanted to shout but had to whisper for Josh’s sake. His bedroom abuts ours.
“We’ve been married a very long time,Tom.We’ve made love too many times to count. And the word is lesbian.”
“I saw what I saw.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“Believe it.”
“Want me to prove I’m not a dyke?” My hand closed over his penis and started to pump. Tom jerked me away.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get the chairmanship,Tom. But you can’t take your rage out on me.”
“Rage?”
“Yes, rage.” I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back tears.
“We did nothing wrong.”
He grabbed my shoulders and pressed his fingers against the bones. “I don’t want you to see her again.”
I punched him in the stomach, once, twice. He let go of me.“She could be our daughter,Tom.”
“Like hell she could.”
“An-ling is alone. She wants a family.What’s wrong with that?”
“Not my family.”
“It’s not only yours. It’s my family and Josh’s too.We get an equal vote. Josh likes her. I’m not asking for her to move in. I just want her to be in our life. At least in mine.”
“Why did you tell her about Amy?”
Tom’s words chilled my heart. “What are you talking about?”
“That little bitch came to my office, said she knew all about Amy.You told her.”
“I didn’t tell her anything.”
“That’s why we moved to New York, remember? So that Josh would never know. What if she tells him? What’s he going to think of us? Answer me that. What is your son going to think?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Then how did she find out?”
“I have no idea. She won’t tell Josh if I ask her. She’s a sweet girl. If you don’t trust her, at least trust me.”
Tom pushed himself under the covers.“I don’t want you to ever see her again.” He turned his back to me. For him, the matter was settled.
“No!” My reserve of strength surprised me. “You can’t punish me this time. There are no toys or photographs to burn, no bedroom to strip of every last trace of her. I won’t give her up because this time I’m not guilty of anything, Tom. I’ve done nothing wrong. All these years you’ve blamed me for Amy’s death.”
He sat up. “You blamed yourself, Emma.” His face hardened.“ It’s either us or her.”
“I won’t let you do this to me. Not this time.” I switched off my light, turned my back to him and in the silence that followed, dropped into a wine-heavy sleep.
Sometime in the night, I woke up, ugly thoughts sliming my tongue along with the evening’s wine. I could hear Tom throwing up in the bathroom. I got up and handed him a glass of water. “Is it me or what you didn’t eat?”
“Hell, I have the stomach flu.” I almost admired his will to take us out to dinner, to sit with the smell of food under his nose, all of it to show Josh we were a sitcom family. Only the laugh track was missing. I couldn’t bring myself to actually feel anything except a steady burn, as though my insides had been grated down.
“Do you want to fuck her? Is that why you think my kissing her lips means I’m having sex with her? You’re hot for her.That’s why you don’t want her around, isn’t it? Keep temptation at bay?”
“Don’t try to twist this thing around,Emma.It won’t work.
You’re the one who wants her, not me. And if Josh finds out about Amy, God help me, Emma—”He gagged, dropped his head over the toilet bowl. He had nothing left to throw up.
“Maybe it’s time he did find out.” I walked out.
Subj: Fairytales and fantasies
Date: 04-10-05 22:20:04 EST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I ask you to call me but I don’t send my e-mails. I store them for when? I don’t know. For when the courage of the tiger comes to me.
For when I’m far away.
How can I send you what I don’t want you to know, the real shame of my life? It has nothing to do with Mongols.
:-( An-ling
TEN
Josh
A STEADY KNOCK against my bed’s headboard followed by, “Time to get your drum beat going.” Dad’s corny way to wake me up on a school day.
“It’s Sunday!” I buried my head under the pillow.
“Get up, son. Pack your duffle bag. Shorts, T-shirts, bathing suits. Don’t forget underwear.”
Why was Dad rushing me out of bed on a Sunday? Then I remembered An-ling naked in the bathroom the day before. I woke up real fast once my brain booted up that fact. Dad was digging in my drawers and throwing my stuff on the bed. He was fully dressed. Sundays he’s usually in his bathrobe until after he’s fixed pancakes and read the front section of the paper. At least until eleven-thirty. My clock said 8:26.
“Where are we going?”
“For me to know and you to find out.You’ve got thirty minutes to wash, dress, pack for a week and get to the street.
I’m going to get the car.We’ll grab breakfast on the way.”
I groaned out of bed. Dad was already at the door. “A week? I can’t go away for a week. I told you, we’ve got our first gig at Sissy Klein’s party next Saturday.We’ve got to practice. Max and Ben are counting on me.”
“We’ll discuss it on th
e way.”
Translation: No discussion. You’re going. I thought about going over to Max’s house. If Dad came to get me I’d refuse to leave. Then the picture of Dad getting teary-eyed at me popped up in my head. I couldn’t do it. It was a pretty asinine idea anyway.
The jangling sleigh bells told me he’d left the apartment. I punched Max’s number on my cell. I’d almost called him lots of times the night before, but what was I going to tell him? “Hey Max, you remember that girl I told you about? You won’t believe what she and Mom were doing.”Maybe I could have just told him how beautiful An-ling looked naked, but that was mine to keep. Now Max was going to kill me for waking him up, but I had to tell him that even if Mom and Dad dragged me to Alaska, nothing was going to stop me from playing at Sissy Klein’s birthday party.
“The party you are trying to reach is not available. Please try your call again later.”
Fuck James Earl Jones. Fuck Max.
Washing, I decided, meant brushing my teeth, that’s it.
Dad had already gotten my duffel bag out of the hallway closet. I couldn’t find any clean jockeys.Where was Mom? Their bedroom door was closed. I opened it, ready to see her fully dressed, leaning over a suitcase on the bed, holding up one shirt then another, never making up her mind. She always ended up taking too much. Maybe we could both gang up on Dad and stay put.
Only the top of Mom’s head was showing above the sheet. Her breathing sounded hollow and far away, like all I was hearing was an echo.“Mom! I can’t go away for a week. We’re playing next Saturday and we’ve still got to get it together. Can’t you talk to Dad?”
She sat up, dug her hands into her hair and stretched her eyes open. She had pillow marks on her cheek, two red welts, and her eyes were puffy.
“Why are you still in bed? Dad’s picking us up in twenty minutes.”
“You’ll have fun just the two of you,” she said after taking a minute, waking up, I guess.“Moms get in the way on trips like this.”
Great! I’d have to fight Dad alone.“Do you know where we’re going, at least?”
The Price of Silence Page 11