The police officer, after scratching his chin a couple of times, asked me some questions that I answered delightedly. It wasn’t long before I found myself dropped off in front of a small, quaint apartment I hadn’t ever seen before. The policeman rang the doorbell.
“Yes?”
I leaned forward expectantly as I saw the front door open, revealing a lanky man of about forty-something, with pale skin and jet black hair. My dad. My dad’s forehead wrinkled as he looked at me, then his expression gradually became neutral. It was as if he wasn’t happy about me coming back. Hmm, no. I shouldn’t suppose things, I thought. Grandma said that was rude.
I walked into the house and took my shoes off on the floor. My dad didn’t say a word as he crossed my path, walking towards where I suspected was the living room. It being the first time I’d ever been here, I followed him.
I was here, in my new family’s house. For the first time ever. I forgot to thank the policeman, but I trusted he understood my sentiments.
My step brother was sitting on the couch. He was playing with an electronic device, his fingers dancing on the tiny screen. An equally tiny figure moved as he did so, shaking trees to get pixelated berries. He was playing a game.
My stepmom was, I guessed, in the kitchen. There was the sound of a rice cooker steaming, and the sound of something sizzling over a fire. Something oily, crispy, and probably yummy. My stepbrother changed his posture so I couldn’t see his game screen anymore. I pouted.
I kept touching the inside of my pocket, though I knew the medallion given by God wasn’t there. It was gone, with the police officer, just as it should. Grandma taught me never to take stuff from strangers, no matter how good things they may be. I wasn’t stupid.
“Dinner’s ready!” Stepmom called out.
I looked on curiously as a woman entered the room, holding a large plate filled with red braised pork. My dad entered with three bowls heaped with rice. He also held chopsticks and spoons. Warm soup and stewed pumpkin was also placed on the table.
The atmosphere was awkward. It was because I was new to the household, I thought. Grandma was now dead, they were my only family, and I had only arrived today. It was natural that they excluded me and talked among themselves. Despite knowing the man was my ‘dad’ and the woman was my ‘mom’ and the older boy my ‘brother’, my new family, it didn’t quite sink in yet.
I watched my family eat before realizing an important fact- I didn’t have my own bowl or chopsticks. There were only three chairs. My stomach grumbled as I smelled the fragrant cooking on the table. Dinner, but not mine.
I entered the kitchen to find my own utensils. None of the family stopped me, which was a good sign. There were ceramic bowls on the kitchen table, next to the sink. It was a little far away, but I could manage. With my height, I could just barely reach it. Chopsticks and spoons were a bit more tricky- I found them beyond my reach, in a cupboard above the sink.
I pouted. I didn’t expect that. I stretched, but still couldn’t reach. Okay. You know what? I thought, who needed utensils? I had two good hands. Forget spoons and chopsticks. I wasn’t good at using chopsticks anyway, so it worked out.
The rice cooker was helpfully on a much lower elevation. It was on a floor-table close to the floor, and I could smell a yummy scent coming from it. Picking up the rice ladle left next to the cooker, I placed a ladleful of rice into my bowl. The rice was steaming hot, so I was careful not to be hurt.
I hesitated. Arriving at the dinner hall, I heard pleasant chatter being exchanged by the mother and son of the household. No extra chairs, huh. Nothing.
My hands were too short to get any braised pork from the table, I judged. And utensils, though not necessary, were preferable.
“Mom?”
Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. The woman stopped mid chatter. I watched her close her eyes before opening them again. A chill went up my bones. I had done something wrong, and I knew it. The air was frozen, everything was quiet and still.
The woman’s eyes bore into mine, and mine into hers. Her eyes were like fire, I thought to myself.
Forget about braised pork. Forget about chopsticks and spoons. They didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t an idiot. Holding my bowl filled with rice, I raced to the front entrance, then sat down at the spot between there and the living room. I could still hear everything that was happening, but I couldn’t see anything- and neither could the woman, I hoped.
I didn’t want to see anything.
My fingers were slightly singed from the heat of the rice bowl. I sat down and sucked on my fingers for a while, then picked up grain after grain of rice. I stuck it all in my mouth. Yummy, I thought. It tasted good.
I listened curiously and contentedly swallowed rice as the husband and wife started to fight among themselves. Luckily I had gotten away as fast as I could, or it could have been me who was in a sticky situation.
“Why should I have to raise her? She’s not my child!”
“LiMei, I understand that you’re upset, but-”
“Fuck you, Jun.” Mom interrupted.
Dad said something to Mom, but I could barely make out what he was saying. A moment passed, Dad groaned.
“We don’t have rice to give to a countryside bitch, so GET YOUR MISTRESS AND FUCKING LEAVE!” The last part was said by my mom in a very shrill scream, and there was the sound of something shattering.
I winced. I didn’t expect my mom to flip the table. Literally.
“Mom!” That must be my brother. At least he seemed to care about the family. However, that wasn’t a good move to make. My brother wasn’t very smart, I thought to myself. It was clear that Mom hated that title seeing from her intense reaction a while ago.
Sure enough, I watched as my mom stormed out of the kitchen and walked to another room. As she passed, I made myself as unnoticeable as possible. Mom didn’t seem very happy. It was best, I thought silently, to avoid people who didn’t seem very happy and had a tendency to flip tables.
Mom closed the door behind her, or she tried to. Dad wasn’t far behind. He wrestled the door open, and after a bit more screaming, the door slammed shut behind the two.
It was quiet now, save for a bit of muffled arguing behind said door. I swallowed back a sigh of relief. The atmosphere had been really weird back then. I had been worried about something bad happening, for example, Mom could have tried to throw me outside the window. Luckily, all was well, though I couldn’t relax yet. With a family as confusing to understand as this, it couldn’t be helped.
My brother walked into another room before also shutting the door behind himself. Should I follow him? I wondered, then decided against it. No use in poking him unnecessarily.
Instead, I climbed behind the sofa in the living room. It would have to do. At least I was out of sight and hard to find. Though I would have preferred something with a lockable entrance. Wait. My rice bowl was empty.
I climbed back out from behind the sofa into the living room. Nobody was here, which was good. The room with my parents was still loud and noisy, with banging and other weird sounds. I carefully looked inside the kitchen.
It was a mess. Broken dishes and cups were on the floor. My heart ached to think of all the money and food wasted. It was my Mom’s decision, but I didn’t think it was a good one.
My eyes brightened seeing a bowl of soup still on the tabletop. Someone must have put it there to get refills. Carefully sidestepping all the broken ceramic on the floor and tiptoeing past the flipped table, I picked up my new bowl of soup. I took a sip.
Not too hot, but not too cold. Not too spicy, not too salty. Just right. I easily drank it down, happy. My new mom might have anger issues, but at least she made good soup. I went to the rice cooker to also get some extra rice, then I slipped back into my place behind the sofa.
It was nice, I thought happily. Though this family wasn’t without its problems, the food was delicious. The bathroom was clean, and there were lots of hiding places, too. And most importantly, again, food was good.
The bowl was small, so I could eat two bowls worth of rice without a problem. After eating it all, I curled up in my new place behind the sofa. It was comfortable, I mused. A little dusty. I would need to fix that later.
I turned to my side, then blinked. There was the clatter of metal hitting the ground. It wasn’t very large, but it was noticeable. Wait. I frowned, seeing something suspicious lying on the ground.
It was a gold medallion. I stiffened. I had a bad feeling about this. I picked up the coin carefully before biting into it to confirm- it was the same gold coin I gave to the police officer. The markings were exactly the same.
I spat out the coin on my hand, then screamed. There was a flash of white light. I threw the coin away from my body, expecting to hear a clanging noise. Except it wasn’t there.
Something was wrong.
When I opened my eyes after calming down my frightened self, I looked up to see an unfamiliar ceiling. I wasn’t dead, there was no pain, but something was clearly wrong. I blinked. Where did the coin go? I was in a white building. A new building I definitely wasn’t in a few seconds ago.
I looked around, my eyes sparkling and my body curled up on the floor of a flat white building with a beautiful ceiling and floor, covered with carpets and cabinets with the most curious objects I had ever seen.
