What We All Long For by Dionne Brand (phonics story books txt) 📕

for favour. But after, I lived by one rule: Eat. Eat as much as you can. Nowadays I try not to make too many rules. You probably think if I hadn’t lost my mother and father, if they hadn’t lost me, I would’ve been a better person. Don’t be sentimental. Don’t ascribe good intentions. Who are you to judge?

I spent seven years at Pulau Bidong as an orphan, and I wished the Thai pirates had taken me with them. I would have had a destination and another fate. As it was, I ran to be photographed each time some news reporter or refugee official arrived. Perhaps I hoped my father or mother or my frightened sisters would find me. How did the pictures turn out? Do you recognize me? I’m the one who is smiling brilliantly less and less and then giving up on that more and more. I don’t suppose it showed up in the pictures. Bidong became my home.

Once in Bidong I met another boy like me. There were many of us. He asked if he could play with a metal toy I’d made, the last sign of my innocence. I told him no, bluntly. He asked if I knew of his mother and father. I said, “Why would I?” He asked if he could be my friend. I said, “Suit yourself.” I don’t know what became of him.

What happened next? What happened next happened. That’s the one thing Pulau Bidong taught me—shut your mouth.

TWO

RAIN HAD FALLEN the night before, but today the sun lit the studio, and the clutter of wood, canvasses, paper, and the general debris that Tuyen considered to be the materials of her art. Tuyen looked out of her window facing the alleyway. Overflowing garbage cans and a broken chair rested against the wall of the building opposite hers. The graffiti crew who lived on the upper floors there had painted a large red grinning pig on the wall. She hadn’t noticed the chair there before and examined it from above, thinking of what she could make with it.

She was still wearing the old oilskin coat, waiting for her brother Binh. She hadn’t bothered to take it off when she got in. Carla had gone to her own place next door, and Oku had left them three stops before their own on the subway line. Just as she entered her door, Binh had called to say that he was coming over. That was an hour ago. “Be outside,” he’d said in an irritated voice, “I’m coming right now.” But Tuyen knew better than to trust his sense of time, and she knew he was only annoyed because he’d been sent to visit her by their father. Though she’d kept her coat on just to be ready.

She was contemplating the discarded chair when Binh’s Beamer turned into the alleyway. He pulled up and immediately leaned on the horn, then he put his head out the car window and bellowed her name. She opened her window and fixed him with an exaggeratedly bored stare. Binh leaned on the horn again, not letting up until she slammed the window shut and made her way down the stairs to the alleyway.

“That is so childish,” she said to him when she got there.

“Well, you know I hate to come to this dump. Why do you live here anyway? Suffering for your art!” His tone was caustic and slightly envious at the same time.

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to come here, would I?”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“No, you wouldn’t know about obligations.”

“Blah, blah, blah. You’re so funny.”

“Oh, take this!” he said distastefully, passing her two plastic bags from the passenger seat. “And here,” he said, handing her a small envelope. “Money, I guess. Can’t you get a job?”

“Thank you, sweet brother.” Tuyen ignored the barb.

“Well, can’t you? Why don’t you go find work to do, huh? Or a husband?”

“As soon as you find one, you fag.”

“You’re the one with secrets, not me, okay.” He waved a finger in her face.

“So, fine. Thank you very much. Goodbye.” She turned to go back into the building.

“Hey,” Binh said, stepping out of the car. “Hey, I want to talk to you.” He was dressed immaculately, his hair long and groomed over his collar, a pair of expensive shades on his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you. And don’t we look fashionable? What d’you want anyway?”

“I’m going to Bangkok …”

“What for? A little child-sex tourism?”

“Don’t be disgusting. Can you open the store for me?”

“Not in this life.” Tuyen turned to go.

“Come on! I’ll pay you.”

“Are you for real?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Ma, you know, and Bo. They can’t leave here. They’re … Ma’s terrified …”

“When did you cook this up? Did they ask you? Are you leading Ma on again?”

“Forget it. Anyway, thanks.”

“Stay out of things. Why don’t you let them forget instead of encouraging them, eh?”

“Listen, I’m not encouraging them. I haven’t even told them I’m going there, all right!” He removed the shades as if to underline his honesty.

“Just leave it alone. Don’t go digging around and then it’ll be more disappointment for them.” Tuyen stepped closer to him, trying to be intimidating.

She was slightly shorter than he but in every other way as striking. The same thick black shoulder-length hair, the broad high cheekbones, the perfectly arched eyebrows—only she was dressed in a second-hand shirt and a baggy pair of paint-splattered pants she had made herself.

“You surprise me, Miss Great Artist. Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know what happened? Don’t you wonder about him? With all your soul searching and finding yourself, don’t you want to know?”

“It’s not my stuff, it’s theirs, and it’s painful to them and I don’t want you going digging around in it.”

“And who are you to tell me what to do?”

“You asked me, so I’m telling you. Don’t be selfish.”

“Selfish? I’m going to try and find out what happened, what happened to him. How am I being selfish?”

“I don’t know, but that’s how