63. Jasmine
Jasmine
Natalia
The house is nicer than I expected.
I didn't imagine some crumbling horror-movie mansion with broken bottles on the lawn, but after everything Kiri told me, I pictured something darker. Meaner. A place that looks like it knows what happens inside it.
Instead, we pull up in front of a neat two-story house in a decent suburban neighborhood, with pale siding, trimmed hedges and a row of flowers planted along the walkway.
There's even a small wooden welcome sign beside the door. The grass is cut so evenly it looks measured. There isn’t a single thing out of place.
Kiri turns off the engine but doesn’t move. His hands stay on the steering wheel. I slip mine over one of them.
“We can sit here for a minute.”
He looks at me, then shakes his head.
“If I sit here, I’ll keep sitting.”
A car pulls in behind us before I can answer. Rithy climbs out wearing black jeans, sunglasses and a button-down covered in tiny gold flowers. He takes one look through Kiri’s windshield and stops. Then he grins.
“Oh, shit. You actually brought her.”
Kiri gets out and slams the door.
“What did you think I was doing?”
“Lying to placate me.”
“I don’t placate you.”
I climb out, smoothing my dress over my hips, and Rithy nods at me.
“Always good to see a fellow black sheep.”
“Thank you. I’ve continued to work hard at disappointing them since our last meeting.”
He presses a hand to his chest.
“An artist.”
Kiri comes around the car and reaches for my hand.
“Don’t encourage his bullshit.”
Rithy pushes his sunglasses onto the top of his head and looks toward the driveway.
“Dad’s car is gone.”
Kiri’s grip tightens around mine.
“Bar?”
Rithy glances at the house.
“Where else?”
They exchange a few quick words in Khmer, too fast for me to catch anything except the change in their voices. Kiri’s gets lower. Rithy’s loses the teasing edge.
They do that sometimes, slip into Khmer without realizing it, especially when they’re talking about family or something they don’t want the rest of the room touching.
I don’t mind. It makes me feel oddly closer to them in a way I can’t explain.
Kasia and I do the same thing with Polish sometimes, falling back into it because it feels familiar. Like home.
“What?” I ask.
Kiri looks over as if he forgot I was standing there.
“Nothing.”
“That sounded like a very serious nothing.”
Rithy hooks his thumbs into his pockets.
“I told him the golden boy should go first.”
Kiri scoffs and gives him the finger.
“I’m not the golden boy.”
Before Rithy can return it, the front door flies open.
A tiny woman rushes out so quickly I barely have time to take her in.
Black hair threaded with wisps of silver is twisted into a bun, and she wears a soft pink blouse with dark trousers.
She can’t be much taller than my shoulder, but she moves with the force of weather. Her arms are already outstretched.
“My boys!”
Kiri lets go of my hand just in time for her to throw herself between them.
Both brothers fold around her immediately.
She disappears almost completely, swallowed by black shirts, broad shoulders and tattooed arms. Rithy bends low enough to kiss her cheek.
Kiri presses his face into her hair. She’s crying before either of them says a word.
I stand beside the car pretending the sight isn’t doing something vicious to my chest.
When she finally pulls back, I see it. Kiri’s smile.
It’s hers. I understand where the warmth in it comes from.
The way it spreads slowly and then takes over his entire face.
She has Rithy’s eyes, though. Dark and expressive, missing absolutely nothing.
Especially me. Her gaze lands on me over Kiri’s arm.
She freezes, then she looks up at him like he’s just announced he’s been elected Pope.
Kiri adjusts his weight. That might be the first time I’ve ever seen him look shy. He reaches back for me.
“Ma, this is Nat.” He draws me closer. “Nat, this is Ma Chhim.”
She swats his arm.
“I am Mrs. Drysdale. He knows better.”
Kiri rolls his eyes. Rithy snorts.
“Some of us don’t accept that curse,” Rithy says.
She says something pointed to him in Khmer. Rithy lifts both hands. Then she steps close and cups my face.
“Oh,” she breathes.
Her palms are warm against my cheeks. She looks at me from every angle like I’m produce she’s considering buying, then says something to Kiri and Rithy in Khmer. Both of them smile. Kiri tries to hide his.
“What did she say?” I ask.
His mouth twitches.
“She said you’re too beautiful to be real.”
My ego immediately swells to dangerous proportions.
Then he adds, “But you don’t look plastic.”
I burst out laughing. She smiles as if this confirms something, pulls me into her arms and squeezes hard enough to surprise me. She releases me only to take hold of my hand.
“Come. Come inside. Shoes off.”
She pulls me toward the house before I can answer. The second we step through the front door, Kiri bends to untie his shoes. Rithy kicks his off beside him. I follow, lining mine neatly against the wall with the others.
The entryway is immaculate. The floors shine. The console table holds one bowl, one framed photograph and a vase of flowers arranged so perfectly they could be fake. Even the coats hanging by the door are spaced evenly. Kiri notices me looking.
“Everything always has to be like this,” he says quietly.
Rithy glances along the spotless hallway.
“Yeah. God forbid there's a speck of dust anywhere.”
Ma looks back from halfway to the kitchen.
“We like our house clean. It's not wrong to have pride.”
“I didn’t say it was, Ma,” Rithy says.
“You say with your face.”
“My face is permanently tuned to hostility. It's my greatest weapon.”
“True.”
I cover my laugh with a cough. The living room looks just as perfect.
Cushions placed at exact angles. Magazines squared on the coffee table.
Family photographs arranged across the mantel in matching frames.
The boys as children. Kiri in a school uniform, already standing like someone warned him not to slouch.
Rithy beside him with buzzed hair and a smile that looks one second away from trouble.
Their mother between them, younger but unmistakable.
There’s one photograph of a large man in military uniform. He has Kiri’s handsome face and broad build, but none of his warmth. I look away before Kiri catches me staring. Mrs. Chhim leads us into the kitchen and immediately starts fussing with a kettle.
“Ma, sit down,” Kiri says.
“It is my birthday. I make tea.”
She waves him away and starts spooning loose tea into a pot.
The scent blooms through the kitchen as soon as she pours in the hot water.
Floral and calming. He moves automatically, taking cups from a cabinet without asking where they are.
Rithy opens the refrigerator and steals something from a covered plate. She smacks his hand with a dish towel.
“That is for later.”
“I’m checking it for poison.”
“You are the poison.”
"Now that's a killer song title."
He kisses her cheek.
Kiri sets the cups on the table, then straightens one that isn’t even crooked.
His shoulders are still held high and tight.
His movements controlled, like he pulled a muscle.
I take the seat beside him and rest my hand on his thigh beneath the table.
He glances at me but I don’t say anything, I just leave it there.
She pours the tea, then sits across from us and looks between Kiri and me with such open delight that he clears his throat and fidgets uncomfortably.
“So,” she says.
Kiri closes his eyes.
“Ma.”
She takes a sip of tea. Rithy leans back in his chair.
“This should be good.”
She points at him.
“You be quiet. You bring no one.”
“Yeah, no shit. I like leaving the rare family gathering alive.”
She dismisses him with one flick of her hand and turns to me.
“How long you know my son?”
Kiri looks at me in warning. I smile sweetly.
“Long enough to know he’s the golden boy.”
Rithy nearly chokes on his tea. Kiri stares at me.
“You’re both dead to me.”
Ma reaches across the table and pats his cheek.
“My precious boy.”
Rithy points triumphantly.
“There. Witnessed and confirmed.”
Kiri groans and drops his head into one hand. For the first time since we pulled into the driveway, the tension leaves his shoulders. I squeeze his thigh beneath the table, and his hand drops over mine. The house might still be unnervingly clean, every object afraid to slip out of place.
But his father’s car is gone, his mother is smiling and Kiri’s hand is over mine.