family, Eldest Brother explained that they had only enough gold to buy two seats on a boat to take them to Thailand. The family reacted to this news with nods. Hidden behind the cousins, Chou held her breath in her stomach. She knew she would be separated from one of her siblings. She turned and stared at Second Brother Khouy, Kim, and Loung. When Eldest Brother told the family he would take Loung, Chou’s breath turned to ice that sent shivers through her veins. Eldest Brother then went on to describe the dangers of the journey, his feeling that Loung’s fearlessness would allow her to adapt better in a foreign country, and, more important, that her young age would allow her to get a better education. Chou didn’t hear many more words after that. She did not feel angry at not being picked. She simply accepted his decision no matter how heavy her heart felt. She never second-guessed Eldest Brother and believed that Khouy and Kim felt the same way. But on the day they left, she did not remember Eldest Brother’s talk. She wanted to run after them and beg Eldest Brother to take her also. As she stood there with the family and watched Eldest Brother and Loung leave, her body felt like an old dead tree, her insides hollow, and her toes dug into the dirt like roots. While she cried silent tears, Kim stood beside her with his shoulders folded inward and his stomach concaved into his body. But when she leaned against him, his slim frame was steady and strong.
That was nine months ago and they have been as silent as the dead. Again, her throat aches at the thought that something bad might have happened to them. A lot has changed in nine months. She’s thirteen years old now. But her frame is still small, her stomach protrudes from lack offood, and her limbs are short and thin. She turns to her side and stares at the men’s plank bed where Kim sleeps soundly.
At fifteen, Kim is a gentle old man in a child’s body. A head taller than Chou, Kim’s wiry body is muscular and strong from hard work. To the aunts, Kim is like a willow tree that can sit in dirty water and still grow beautiful and provide shade for the family. But to Chou, he’ll always be Ma’s little monkey who stole food and endured beatings to feed them all. On the other hand, Second Brother Khouy will always be the family’s tiger. At twenty-one, Khouy walks with the graceful stride of a cat but will quickly pounce on his prey if he has to protect his territory and family. Even when he is relaxed, he is full of lightning and thunder, especially when he’s had too much to drink. When he is drunk, he’s like fire, temperamental and burning everything in his path. In the morning after all the alcohol has left him, he claims that it took away his memories of the night before. No one dares to question him; the war and lack of food did not take away Khouy’s intimidating black belt karate—trained body. When he is not angry, Khouy can tell funny stories that keep everyone laughing for hours and everywhere he goes, family, friends, and girls are drawn to him.
Still, once during the monsoon season, Chou saw Khouy standing in the rain, a lone figure in the midst of the swaying palm trees. The warm rain had soaked his clothes to his body, and his bangs flopped over in his face as small children played around him. Every once in a while, a few children grabbed his hands and kicked up mud around him. He didn’t seem to mind them and stood quietly. Chou wondered if he was thinking of Geak. But they don’t talk about her. They don’t talk about Pa, Ma, and Keav either. They also don’t talk about Phnom Penh, the markets, the movie theater in front of their house in the city, the noodle shops they used to go to with Pa and Ma, Geak’s red cheeks, their home in the city, and so many other things Chou remembers vividly.
She cherishes all these memories, even the ones in which Kim and Khouy teased her with stories that Pa had found her in a trash can. They said she
Barbara Davilman, Ellis Weiner