First They Killed My Father_ A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers - Loung Ung [76]
“Ma,” I call out loudly. Her back stiffens. Slowly, she turns her head, her eyes squinting in the sun. It takes her a few seconds to recognize me, then she stands quickly and runs toward me. Tears fall from her eyes as she puts her hands over me, touching my head, my shoulders, my face, as if to make sure I am real.
“What are you doing here? What if you get caught?”
“Ma, it’s okay. I have a permission slip.”
She takes the slip and quickly reads it. It is only a piece of paper saying I can leave my camp and no mention of a designated location.
“All right, you stay here with Geak while I take this to the chief and ask for some time off.” Before I can say anything she’s gone, leaving me standing there by myself, already missing her. I feel a gentle hand tug on my little finger and I look to see Geak’s face staring up at me, her eyes big and wet. She barely reaches my chest. Though she is five, I always think of her as a baby. Maybe because she is weak and does not fight. I smile and reach my hand out to her. Together we walk to a shady tree and wait for Ma’s return.
Sitting under the tree, I hold on to Geak’s hand. It is small in my palm, brown from the sun with black dirt burrows in her nails and the wrinkles around the knuckles. Her nails are brittle. I continue to stare at her hand, too afraid to look at her face and see my guilt in her eyes. I do not know what to say to her. She has never been a talkative child; she is the sweet-natured one and I am the cranky one. Leaning over, I put my arms around her tiny shoulders and rest my cheek gently on her head. She does not move or struggle but allows me to hold her.
Ma comes back with a bowl of rice and permission to take a few hours off. “It’s past lunch, but I got this for you from the chief.”
I take the bowl and we walk back to our hut.
“The chief gave you time off?”
“Only a few hours. He is not a bad man.”
“Ma, Geak still looks really sick,” I say once we are sheltered in our hut.
“I know, I’m very worried about her. I’m afraid she won’t grow anymore. We are given plenty of rice now, but we had all those periods of virtually no food.
Pangs of guilt gnaw at my stomach.
“She needs meat,” Ma continues. “Last week, I tried to trade a pair of my ruby earrings for a small chicken …” Her eyes are sad as she recounts her story to me.
It was dusk and the sky turned red as it phased into night. When she and Geak finished their meal of rice and fish, Ma went to her secret hiding place under the small pile of clothes and took out one of Pa’s old shirts. Reaching into the pocket, she took out a pair of ruby earrings. Sadness overcame her as she remembered Phnom Penh, a place long ago where she collected expensive antique jewelry. She shook her head as if to chase away the memory. No time for that now. She had to get going before it got too dark. She told Geak she would be back soon and quickly left.
As she walked the twenty minutes to a nearby village, her body grew weak. Her joints ached with every step. She hated leaving Geak alone. She knows Geak cries for her whenever she leaves, even for only a few minutes. Her poor baby girl. “Seng Im,” she whispered to Pa, “I’m so tired. I’m thirty-nine and growing old, so fast and so alone. Remember? We were to grow old together. Seng Im, I’m too old to live like this.” The memory of Pa brought tears to her eyes. She knows it’s no use, but still she talks to him.
Ma approached the village. Her heart raced, pumping the blood too quickly and making her dizzy. “Act casual,” she thought. “They cannot suspect.” If they knew what she was doing here, if she got caught, there would be big trouble. She shuddered when she thought of what they would