'Life stinks,' Arthit says. 'But we'll get through it.' He picks up the half-full glass and regards it. 'Until we don't.'
The boy comes to the dinner table wearing one of Miaow's blouses. With a little electric jolt, Rafferty realizes that Superman has tried to dress up for dinner.
'Don't you look nice,' Rose says brightly. The boy gives her the flicker of a smile and sits. He looks down at himself and plucks the fabric between thumb and forefinger. He draws two deep breaths. 'Not pink,' he says.
Rafferty forces himself to get into the act. 'What did you do today?'
'Went to school,' Miaow says into the silence. The boy is twisting the fabric of the blouse with great concentration. Rafferty is folding his fingers into his palms, one by one, beneath the table, counting as he waits.
'The street,' the boy finally says, without lifting his face to them. Miaow's head swivels toward him, fast.
'Okay,' Rafferty says. 'Well. Hey.' He can hardly believe that the boy spoke, and he does not feel equal to the challenge of a reply. He rejects three questions as too probing before settling on one. 'Are you hungry?'
'Yes,' the boy whispers. He is still studying the blouse as though he expects it to change color at any moment.
'Me, too,' Rafferty says, feeling like the idiot father in a sitcom. 'I could eat a horse. What have we got, Rose?'
'Horse,' Rose says promptly. 'Horse noodles and horse soup.' The boy's eyes flick to her. 'And horse ice cream for dessert.'
Miaow laughs first, so loudly that Rafferty almost misses it when the boy joins in. Suddenly Rafferty is laughing, too, while Rose beams at all of them.
'I want the tail,' Miaow says happily.
The boy says something to his blouse.
'What?' Rose asks. 'What did you say?'
'The whinny,' the boy says without looking up. 'Give Miaow the whinny.'
Miaow swats him on the head, and the boy ducks and raises a clenched fist. Rafferty freezes, but all the boy does is knock lightly on Miaow's part, three times. Rose laughs deep from her belly and begins to dish out the food. Both Miaow and the boy are blushing fiercely.
'Tomorrow,' Rafferty says, eyeing the blouse, 'let's go get you some shirts.'
'He'll be fine,' Rose says from the floor.
'What do we call him?' Rafferty asks. He has claimed the couch, since Rose doesn't want it. 'I can't bring myself to say, 'Hi, Superman.''
'Don't call him anything. Let him name himself. Maybe he wants to be Boo again.' She yawns, making it look elegant. 'He may get angry sometimes. It's not easy to quit using yaa baa.'
'Did you use it?'
'I never smoked it, but I ate the pills like popcorn when I started dancing. The tourists choose the girls who look like they're having a good time. There are only so many times you can smile while you're dancing to 'American Pie.''
'But you stopped taking it.'
'I got tall,' she says. 'I grew three inches in my first year. Everybody else in the bar was short, so I stood out. I could just hang on to the pole and do the mermaid.' She moves her hips back and forth in a sinuous curve, like someone swimming the butterfly stroke. 'I stopped taking the pills, but it wasn't easy.'
There is a silence. 'You've been wonderful,' he says into it.
Rose gives him a half smile. 'I have always been wonderful. You just didn't notice.'
'About the boy, I mean.'
'He's a child,' she says. 'He can't help who he is. Maybe he's bad, you know? Some people are born bad. But probably something happened to him that killed part of who he was and left something else behind. Don't look at me like that,' she says, although Poke is not aware that his expression has changed. 'It happens to some people. Maybe it's something from their karma that suddenly falls on them, like a stone, and everything breaks. They still look the same, they still need to eat and sleep, but whatever their lives were tied to-whatever it was that gave them the chance to be good-it's gone. They lose their weight, they drift. They're empty. Sometimes they do terrible things to try to feel something again. They're like hungry ghosts.'
'There seem to be a lot of those these days.'
'There are always a lot of them. But a hungry ghost can sometimes be put to rest. And these people, maybe, can be given something new to tie themselves to. Maybe they can even remember who they used to be. If you can do that, you will make merit. It'll help you when you're reborn.' She works a cigarette out of the tiny opening in the pack and lights it. When she looks up at him, she is smiling. 'I have often thought you would be reborn as a goat.'
'I've always figured I'd come back as a midsize sedan.'
'You will be something that can be eaten,' she says complacently.
'As long as the cook isn't English,' Rafferty says.
She fiddles with the tip of the cigarette, touching it to the ashtray's edge to brush off the ash. Bangkok glitters through the sliding glass door behind her. 'I am very pleased with what Mr. Morrison said about Miaow.'
'Me, too.'
'You will be a real family. That will be wonderful for her.'
'Not quite.' Rafferty swallows. He seems to have an orange lodged in his throat.
'Not quite what?'
'Not quite a real family.' Heat creeps up his cheeks.
Rose's head comes up. She is as close to looking surprised as Rafferty has ever seen her. His face is burning and he can feel the pulse at his wrists. The moment stretches out, infinite to Rafferty, until she breaks it by stubbing her half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray.
'The boy will be wanting the couch,' she says. 'We should give him the room.'
'You bet,' Rafferty says, leaping up. 'Poor kid's probably exhausted.'
'And you need to sleep.' She tosses her things into the big purse, as always in no discernible order.
'Not so's you'd notice,' Rafferty says.
Her hands are still, but her face is downturned, shrouded by the fall of dark hair. 'I heard what you said.'
Sweat prickles Rafferty's underarms. 'Thank God. I'm not sure I could say it twice.'
'It needs a lot of thought.'
'Are you saying you'll actually think about it?'
She raises her face to his, her features as smooth as stone. 'How could I not honor such a suggestion with thought?'
'Hah,' Rafferty says, unable to think of a single word in any language. Eventually he dredges one up. 'So.'
'So,' Rose echoes.
'So I guess the important thing is not to…you know, change things while we think about it. Not break our usual routines.'
'Such as what?'
'Such as we go into the other room and you get to start out on top. As long as it doesn't lead to any misunderstanding about who's really in charge.'
She rises to her full six feet, lifting the purse as effortlessly as if it contained a quart of soap foam. 'I think we both understand very clearly who's in charge,' she says. She takes two steps toward him and brushes her lips against his, then turns to the bedroom door. With her hand on the knob, she turns back to him. 'Definitely a goat,' she says.
