The Girl Who Played Go

67

As I wander the streets, my whole body is stiff with horror.

“Go home,” says Huong.

“Leave me alone.”

“Please, go home.”

“I hate my home.”

“Well, cry then. Let it all out, please,” she begs me.

“I don’t have any tears.”

She buys some stuffed rolls from a peddler and says, “Well, eat then!”

“They smell horrible.”

“What makes you say that? They smell good.”

“They’re rotten. Can’t you smell the vegetables are bitter? It’s like blood. Oh, please throw them away or…” My stomach lurches and I am sick. Terrified, Huong throws the rolls to some cats stalking nearby.

I curl up on myself and hear Huong saying, “Jing is alive.” But this good news is not enough for me.

“I’m carrying a dead man’s baby. I’ll have to kill myself.”

“You’ve gone mad!” she says, shaking me by my shoulders. “You’re mad! Tell me you’re delirious!”

I don’t answer.

“Well then, hang yourself,” she says, hiding her face in her hands, “no one can save you.” Then after a long silence she adds, “Have you seen a doctor? It could be nothing.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” I say.

“I’ll find you a doctor.”

“What’s the point? Min’s betrayed me. I have to die.”