The rumors said she was a cannibal. So I wasn’t exactly surprised when I woke up one morning next to her and discovered that I was missing one of my legs.
Did you eat one of my legs, I said, while I was sleeping?
She got angry and refused to let me sleep next to her again.
It can’t be, I said, because I thought I really loved her. I don’t believe what everyone says. Your smile is so beautiful, your teeth are so white. You wouldn’t use those teeth to bite me or those lips to suck my blood.
But she was still mad at me.
I said, When I asked if you ate my leg while I was sleeping last night, I was just kidding.
She didn’t believe me.
You are just like everyone else, she said. You repeat the exact same things they all say.
I said, Well, now that I think about it, I actually must have lost my leg in the war. I must have forgotten, I said. The war was a long time ago, you know. Our country has gone through so many wars, it’s hard to keep them all straight sometimes.
A few days later, walking on crutches because I was now missing a leg, I came to apologize. She wasn’t mad anymore and forgave me.
Having a bad memory is not a character flaw, she said. And anyway, I know you’re mentally deranged.
Suddenly we were in love again, even more intensely than before. She even let me kiss her on the mouth.
That weekend, she let me sleep next to her again.
This time, she said, you can sleep at my feet.
Your feet? I asked.
Yes, my feet, she said.
Her feet were pristinely white like pieces of white jade.
Her feet were so purely white that I thought she must never use them for walking.
Her feet reminded me of a pair of delicate hands.
At midnight I touched her feet and felt a sudden shock, but also happiness.
After that I feel asleep. Contented. Fulfilled.
When I woke up the next morning and discovered that I’d lost my other leg as well, I had to ask her, While I was asleep last night, did you eat my other leg?
Immediately I regretted that I’d said anything. She was so angry that she began to shake. Her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t speak.
Finally she ushered me outside and shut the door.
I crawled across an empty verandah, feeling extremely sad. I knew then that I’d lost my pure trust in her.
I have lived this life, but I don’t trust it.
I don’t trust love.
I listen to the words of others instead of my own heart.
After she kicked me out I continued to sit in front of her door, hoping she would reconsider.
I continued to sit, and I continued to wait.
Meanwhile everyone kept repeating the rumor that she was a cannibal.
Finally, one rainy day, she opened the door and let me inside. Quietly she began cleaning the wounds of my severed legs.
I said, It wasn’t you, it was probably because of the war. I said, We have gone through too many wars—wars with the French, the Americans, and the Chinese. I said, I must have forgotten that I’d already lost both legs before I even met you. I said, It’s all these past wars that have damaged our love for each other.
Please forgive me, I said.
Please forgive war.
Please forgive everything that destroys our memories.
Or makes us not want to remember.
Or causes us pain.
Tears began running down my face as I spoke.
She said, War isn’t worth getting angry about.
With that, I knew she had forgiven me.
War is a piece of shit, I said. Dog shit.
She laughed cheerfully.
She had apparently forgotten that we were in a fight, and so once again she let me spend the night.
She said, Tonight I will let you sleep under the blanket with me.
My heart leaped up into my throat, like on the day the South was liberated.
War has separated us, I said. But peace will allow our hearts to blossom. As if our hearts were growing roses, I said.
I love peace, I said.
And I hate war, she said.
Me too, I said.
When I woke up that third time beside her in bed, I discovered that my arms were gone.
I said, Of course, I lost my arms and my legs in the war. I must not have remembered that. War is cruel, I said. It confounds me.
Sweetheart, she said, it isn’t your fault. You have a bad memory, that’s all. Nobody can hold a bad memory to blame.
It’s true! I said. It’s all war’s fault. Goddamn war!
I said, We need to condemn the Americans. The French too, I said.
And the Chinese! she said.
We must resist them, I said.
The Japanese fascists as well, she said.
I am so happy, I said.
She had never loved me this much before.
I said, I’ll print out pamphlets to inform people that we need to hate war. We must be antiwar, I said. War destroys our love for one another.
She said, Tonight I will let you put your head under my breasts.
Under your breasts? I said.
Yes, she said. Under my breasts.
I lay my head underneath her breasts and went to sleep. I had never been so close to her heart.
The fourth time I woke up next to her, I touched my entire body and realized that my head was missing.
It’s not a problem, I said. It’s only normal. Everyone loses their head after experiencing war. Besides, having a head only makes us crazier anyway, I said.
War makes us crazy, she said.
She wanted to reward me for my trust in her love.
She said, Tonight is a special night. I want to give everything to you.
Give me everything? I said.
Yes, everything, she said.
My soul jumped. I lay down in her arms. I knew that I deserved this love. I had sacrificed enough in the war. It was a terrific reward for everything I had
