father’s table. Ava walked towards it feeling selfconscious and nervous. I have a right to be here , she told herself. When she got close to the table, the overhead lights suddenly dimmed.
“Daddy, it’s me, Ava,” she said, smiling.
He peered at her, the women’s eyes following his.
“I don’t know any Ava,” he said.
“And no one calls him Daddy!” one of the women shouted.
Ava moved closer, thinking that perhaps he couldn’t see her properly in the weak light. “I don’t think that’s very funny,” she said.
He shrugged and turned his head away. The women did the same. The lazy Susan began to circle again, chopsticks plucking food from dishes. Ava felt as if she were watching them through a one-way mirror, able to see but not to be seen.
“Don’t let him upset you,” a voice said.
She froze.
“He loves everyone in turn, and no one for very long.”
He was sitting off to the left, in a green leather armchair pressed against a wall. Beside him was his ashtray stand. He had a lit cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling around his shadowed face. But she knew the voice.
“Why does he do these things to me?” she said.
He crossed his legs and she saw that his feet barely touched the ground. He looked like a child being swallowed up by the chair. The smoke cleared and she could make out his black suit, the white shirt buttoned to the collar, the bottom half of his face. She searched for his eyes but they were lost in shadow.
“He moves from life to life. There is no malice in it, just practicality,” Uncle said.
She tried to step towards the chair but couldn’t move her feet. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Don’t cry.”
She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and her hand shot up to intercept it. “I’m not.”
“I also need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Xu.”
“Did he send you?”
“No, he would never ask that of me. And if he had I would have thought so little of him that I would never speak to him again.”
“He reminds me of you. Not entirely, but a bit.”
He butted out the cigarette in the ashtray, reached into his jacket pocket for his pack, took out a fresh stick, and lit it with a long wooden match. His face glowed in the phosphorus light, the skin taut and unlined, his lips a bit redder than usual. He blew on the match and was plunged into deeper darkness.
“There were rumours that he is my son. Physically we have some resemblance and we share some speech patterns, and he adopted my manner of dress, but the rumours are not true. I am close to him all the same. His father was a friend and a trusted colleague for many years, and after he died I inherited some responsibility for Xu. I did not mind. It made me feel young and purposeful again.”
“He seems calm on the surface, like you, but I sense there is turmoil raging inside.”
“He has chosen a difficult path, and there are times when he does not think it is the correct one. There are times when he doubts himself.”
“You know what he wants of me?”
“Yes.”
“And the money is only part of it?”
“You are as beautiful as ever.”
“Uncle!”
“And as perceptive.”
“Tell me what he wants.”
“He needs you.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I don’t know what more I can say.”
“Uncle, please.”
“You must talk to him.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” she said.
He took a deep drag on his cigarette. When he exhaled, his face disappeared in the smoke.
“Uncle!” she shouted. Her vision became cloudy and she heard her own voice, the word Uncle still on her tongue.
She was sitting upright in her bed at the Peninsula. Across the room, by itself in a corner, was a green leather chair. She sniffed the air. There was a hint of cigarette smoke.
( 11 )
Ava woke at just past seven. A thin stream of morning light had escaped around the edge of the curtains and found her eyes. She burrowed into the pillows but
“Daddy, it’s me, Ava,” she said, smiling.
He peered at her, the women’s eyes following his.
“I don’t know any Ava,” he said.
“And no one calls him Daddy!” one of the women shouted.
Ava moved closer, thinking that perhaps he couldn’t see her properly in the weak light. “I don’t think that’s very funny,” she said.
He shrugged and turned his head away. The women did the same. The lazy Susan began to circle again, chopsticks plucking food from dishes. Ava felt as if she were watching them through a one-way mirror, able to see but not to be seen.
“Don’t let him upset you,” a voice said.
She froze.
“He loves everyone in turn, and no one for very long.”
He was sitting off to the left, in a green leather armchair pressed against a wall. Beside him was his ashtray stand. He had a lit cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling around his shadowed face. But she knew the voice.
“Why does he do these things to me?” she said.
He crossed his legs and she saw that his feet barely touched the ground. He looked like a child being swallowed up by the chair. The smoke cleared and she could make out his black suit, the white shirt buttoned to the collar, the bottom half of his face. She searched for his eyes but they were lost in shadow.
“He moves from life to life. There is no malice in it, just practicality,” Uncle said.
She tried to step towards the chair but couldn’t move her feet. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Don’t cry.”
She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and her hand shot up to intercept it. “I’m not.”
“I also need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Xu.”
“Did he send you?”
“No, he would never ask that of me. And if he had I would have thought so little of him that I would never speak to him again.”
“He reminds me of you. Not entirely, but a bit.”
He butted out the cigarette in the ashtray, reached into his jacket pocket for his pack, took out a fresh stick, and lit it with a long wooden match. His face glowed in the phosphorus light, the skin taut and unlined, his lips a bit redder than usual. He blew on the match and was plunged into deeper darkness.
“There were rumours that he is my son. Physically we have some resemblance and we share some speech patterns, and he adopted my manner of dress, but the rumours are not true. I am close to him all the same. His father was a friend and a trusted colleague for many years, and after he died I inherited some responsibility for Xu. I did not mind. It made me feel young and purposeful again.”
“He seems calm on the surface, like you, but I sense there is turmoil raging inside.”
“He has chosen a difficult path, and there are times when he does not think it is the correct one. There are times when he doubts himself.”
“You know what he wants of me?”
“Yes.”
“And the money is only part of it?”
“You are as beautiful as ever.”
“Uncle!”
“And as perceptive.”
“Tell me what he wants.”
“He needs you.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I don’t know what more I can say.”
“Uncle, please.”
“You must talk to him.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” she said.
He took a deep drag on his cigarette. When he exhaled, his face disappeared in the smoke.
“Uncle!” she shouted. Her vision became cloudy and she heard her own voice, the word Uncle still on her tongue.
She was sitting upright in her bed at the Peninsula. Across the room, by itself in a corner, was a green leather chair. She sniffed the air. There was a hint of cigarette smoke.
( 11 )
Ava woke at just past seven. A thin stream of morning light had escaped around the edge of the curtains and found her eyes. She burrowed into the pillows but
Similar Books
