The Headmaster's Wager by Vincent Lam Page B

a man but the fragility of a boy, in an interrogation room furnished with a bucket, chairs, a bench, and an oil drum. Push it away. To dwell upon danger might itself bring bad luck. He made a quick entreaty to the ancestral spirits, forced himself to stare at the road. Beneath the wheels, the ground became a softer mix of earth and sand blown up from the sea. Through the open side window his eyes traced the line of searing white beach. With Cap St. Jacques just around the corner, he stopped short, parked beneath a tall palm. The fishermen’s boats were pulled up after their early morning work, long since dry. Percival removed his shoes and got out of the car, walked a few steps and worked his feet into the warm sand. The palm fronds whispered reassurance.
    Hadn’t they come to this stretch of beach during the holiday before the divorce? He tried to pick out the spot where he had once feared the worst, unsure now of the precise location. He never brought up that day with Dai Jai for to do so would be bad luck, but he thought of it sometimes at the ancestral altar, when he thanked the ancestors and offered roasted meat and oranges.
    One afternoon during what was to be their last family trip in 1958, the beach was empty at siesta time, but Dai Jai did not wish to return to the villa. He wanted to swim. Over the course of summers at Cap St. Jacques, Dai Jai had learned how to swim from the local boys, and he spent every possible moment in the water. Cecilia was stretched out on a lounge chair beneath an umbrella, complaining of the heat. There were no beach boys to run and bring cold drinks, and the air burned the inside of Percival’s nostrils. He, too, wanted to escape the sun and lie beneath a fan, but since Cecilia wished to return to the villa, he declared that the boy should swim. Dai Jai bragged to his father that he could swim out to the open ocean, to where the waves no longer broke. He ran in and plunged headlong into the surf. Dai Jai darted beneath the waves as they crested. Cecilia asked Percival to call their son back, but Percival retreated beneath an umbrella andsaid nothing, pleased that Dai Jai had taken his father’s permission as enough.
    The heat caused time to stretch, and Cecilia closed her eyes. Percival half-watched Dai Jai for a while, expecting that he would soon turn back towards shore. The boy paused, waved, and continued to go out. Big for his eight years of age, he was becoming a good swimmer. After some time, Percival remarked, “He is swimming very fast, isn’t he?”
    Cecilia sat up and stared. They could see only Dai Jai’s back bobbing up occasionally. Then Cecilia stood, shouted at their son, but already he was too far to hear. Between the peaks of the waves he disappeared. His arms were little punctuation marks in the ocean.
    As they watched, Dai Jai shrank into the ocean. “He is being swept out!” she said. Although Percival’s reflex was to disagree, it was true. The boy was going out faster than he could possibly be swimming. A large wave broke over him and he vanished in a long expanse of water. Cecilia yelled, “Go out after him! ”
    Percival stood, and then stopped, frozen. “I can’t swim.” Neither of them could.
    â€œYou are his father. Go! ”
    There was no doubt. The boy was being swallowed by the ocean. Percival ran out into the water, and was surprised at the force that tugged and buffeted him. He waded ahead. “Son! Come back, you’re being pulled out!” His voice was lost in the crashing surf. Percival swung his hands high above him like flags, struggled forward into water that surged up to his neck. “Turn around! Swim back!” He threw the words uselessly into the ocean. Soon he was unable to see more than a few feet around him. A wave smashed over his head. Salty brine filled his mouth, stung his eyes. Percival looked into the moving walls of water, trying to see through them where Dai Jai