'You'll be taken to a house. It'll be dirty, and it'll have windows that don't open. Some of the rooms will have bars on the windows.'
'Bars?'
'What do you think this is about? You think you're going to work in a flower shop? You're going to be in some filthy, rat-filled cement house in Bangkok with bars on the windows and a lock on the door. You're going to get put into a room with a bed in it and a bucket to pee in, and you're going to stay in that room for months without ever going out. You'll get fucked, you'll rest, you'll get fucked again. They'll bring you some food, and then you'll get fucked again. At night you'll sleep in the same bed you fucked in all day, with the sheets still dirty from all those men, and whenever a new man comes, no matter what time it is, they'll wake you up and you'll have to fuck him. Doesn't matter if he's fat, filthy, drunk, mean, ugly, smelly, toothless, diseased. Doesn't matter if he wants to slap you around. You'll fuck him. Every day, seven days a week, all year long. For two or three years, until you've paid back the sixty thousand baht they paid your father, and they'll cheat you on that. They'll charge you rent for the room they lock you in, they'll charge you for sheets and towels, for food. Whatever it costs them, they'll charge three times as much. Until you've paid back every baht of the sixty thousand, plus interest.'
Nana has been whispering fiercely, but Kwan hears the creak of wood down the street. She puts a hand on Nana's wrist, and Nana goes silent and throws a protective arm around Kwan's shoulders.
Another creak, and then the slap of a rubber sandal. It's coming from the dark rectangle of Kwan's house fifteen meters down the street, its flat blackness broken only by the single window, a hazy patch of light thrown by the lantern on the far side of the room. The sound came from above the street, from the wooden deck that surrounds the house. Nana's breath catches, and Kwan whispers, 'Shhhhhh.'
The creaking continues, and then there's the confused thump of a stumble, followed by a slurred, muttered curse. And then Kwan hears the sound of her father's sandals on the four steps that lead down to the street.
'Stay here,' she whispers, her lips practically touching Nana's ear. Kwan throws off the blanket and eases herself back so she can slip off the edge of the platform that faces away from the street. From there it's just a few fast steps to the darkness beneath the house that's behind the platform. Kwan has to bend almost double to squeeze into the space, and the rough, unfinished wood above her snatches at the threads of her T-shirt, but she keeps going until she's well past the midpoint of the house, two meters or so beyond the moonlight's milky edge. She drops to her knees, scoops dirt into her hands, and rubs it on her face. When she finally breathes, it feels as if a stone is caught in her throat.
Nana sits on the platform, one knee drawn up like someone who could sit there forever. She is humming.
'Well,' her father says from somewhere to the right, out of Kwan's line of sight. 'Look here. It's little Moo.'
'Nana. I stopped being Moo a long time ago.'
Kwan's father lurches into view. He stops in front of Nana, swaying slightly. He is as drunk as Kwan has ever seen him. He blinks heavily down at Nana as though to clear his vision. 'Still Moo. Got nice clothes now, got pale skin, not so fat, but you're still dirty.'
'And you're still a drunk,' Nana says, with a calm that amazes Kwan. She could never talk like that to an older man who's not a member of her family.
Her father takes half a step back. 'Little whore. Up from Bangkok, waving around your hundred-baht ass.'
Nana laughs. 'A hundred baht? For a hundred baht, I wouldn't show you the bottom of my foot.' She waves him off, left-handed, like she'd shoo a chicken. 'Why don't you keep going wherever you were going? There's probably another bottle there.'
Kwan's father clears his throat loudly and spits. Kwan thinks the spittle may have struck Nana, but Nana doesn't move a muscle. Beyond Nana's black silhouette, Kwan can see half of her father's face, rendered in pastel by the moonlight. After a moment he says, 'Your round little ass.' He lifts his chin imperiously and stumbles back a step. 'I got money.'
Kwan's heart is suddenly pounding at the side of her neck.
'Not enough,' Nana says. 'No matter how much you have, it's nowhere near enough.'
'Got a lot.'
'Fine,' Nana says. 'Thirty thousand baht. Special price, just for you.'
Her father pulls his head back, as though someone has swung at him. 'Thirty- 'At's a joke, right?'
'For thirty thousand,' Nana says sweetly, 'I'll let you lick my shadow. It's right down there, on the dirt.'
'Little bitch.' He takes a step toward her, raising one arm.
'Hit me,' Nana says. 'And then I'll scream, and when everybody comes, I'll explain how you offered me thirty thousand baht to sniff my butt. And then I'll ask where you got thirty thousand baht. In fact, you don't even have to hit me. I'll scream anyway, just for fun.'
'No, no, no.' Kwan's father looks reflexively in the direction of his house. 'Don't.'
'Two thousand baht,' Nana says. 'Right now. Two thousand baht or I scream.'
A pause. 'You said what?'
'Village men,' Nana says, spitting the words as though they'd caught in her throat. 'I always forget how slow they are. Two thousand baht right now, from your pocket into my hand, or I scream. Was that slow enough for you?'
Kwan's father squeezes out a bleary laugh. 'Who's going to believe you? Everybody knows what you do down there.'
'You're probably right. So it'll be twenty-five hundred. For reminding me.'
Her father sways in the moonlight, looking down at Nana.
'All right,' Nana says. 'Here goes.' She takes a deep breath and raises both hands to her mouth.
'Stop.' Kwan's father digs into his pockets, pulls out a handful of bills, and fumbles blunt-fingered through it. 'One thousand, fifteen hundred, two thousand five hundred.' He puts the other bills back. It's a thick wad, and Kwan's eyes follow it, something in her chest threatening to break into sharp pieces.
Nana withdraws her outstretched hand. 'Put it on the platform,' she says. 'Do it politely. And not too close.'
He releases a sharp hiss between his teeth but shuffles forward and bends down to put the bills beside Nana. The movement puts his eyes level with Kwan's, and for a heart-freezing moment she thinks he's seen her, but he straightens.
Nana picks up the money by its corners, using the tips of two fingers, and shakes it as though things are crawling on it. Then she slips it into her pocket. 'Were you looking for Kwan?' she asks, as pleasantly as though they haven't exchanged a word yet.
'Was I–I was, yes. Stork, looking for Stork. Ought to be home by now.'
'You take such good care of her,' Nana says. 'She's a lucky girl. She went that way.' She points off toward the other end of the village. 'Maybe half an hour ago, maybe more.'
'By herself?'
'Who could she have been with? Her fiance? Her big gang of friends? Of course she was by herself.'
Kwan's father hesitates and licks his lips. 'Can I have the money back?'
'Ask me again and it'll be five thousand.'
He bares crooked teeth. 'Ahhhh. Fuck you and your mother.' He turns and shambles down the street in the direction Kwan indicated. 'And your mother's mother,' he says over his shoulder.
'Keep talking,' Nana says. 'Sooner or later you'll think of something clever.' She gets up from the platform and wraps the blanket around her like a big shawl, watching him go. Hunched down in the darkness, Kwan stares at her. She has never in her life heard a woman talk to a man like that. It violates everything she's been taught about men and women, about young people and their elders, but somewhere deep inside, somewhere even deeper than the heartbreak, she wants to laugh.
'I'm going to walk the other way,' Nana says very quietly, without turning toward her. 'Go out on the other side of the house and take the same direction. Keep the houses between us. After the last house, I'll come to you and we'll find someplace else to sit. We have to finish talking about this.' 'YOU HEARD,' NANA says. 'You saw. The money.'
Kwan doesn't answer. They're in a small clearing fifteen or twenty meters beyond the last house in the
