Weird. I try the switch a few more times, but the lights refuse to come on.
I click my torch on, and head to the master bedroom.
In here, the air is even closer.
In the darkness, the room feels small.
Like a broom cupboard.
But the beam of light from my torch sweeps this way and that, and my eyes tell me it’s the same size as it was before.
Cavernous.
In the movie star’s bedroom, I find Charles in the corner, standing with his back to me.
Dead straight. Dead still.
Staring straight ahead at the wall.
Charles, I hiss. What the hell are you doing?
I shine the light on his face, and his eyes are focused on something way beyond the wall.
His lips are moving, barely whispered words coming out of his mouth.
What is that, Hokkien?
I look closer, and he is shivering in the heat.
Charles, I hiss. We need to get out of here, before the movie star busts us.
Right behind me, I hear a voice say, Guo lai?
Seductive and singing and sly.
Charles! I hiss, shaking his shoulder.
He turns to look at me.
What are you doing here? he says, calmly, looking back at the wall.
What the fuck are you doing here? I say.
This is super not part of the plan.
You can’t see him? says Charles.
I look at the wall he’s staring at, and I say, Who?
My father, says Charles, smiling. He’s right there.
Come, he says, grabbing my arm, his grip causing the muscles it touches to ring with pain.
I hear a shuffling sound behind me, and I am afraid, and I think, Fuck this.
But before I can pull my arm free, he lifts his foot, moves it forward, and I watch as it sinks into the wall.
F
IFTY
-S
IX
Picture a young Charles Hu, fifteen years old.
He is on his knees, surrounded by his mother and his seven brothers and sisters.
And his daddy, he’s lying on his back, raised up in front of them.
Naaamooooo aaaaaaaamiiiiituoooofoooooooo…
Naaamooooo aaaaaaaamiiiiituoooofoooooooo…
Naaamooooo aaaaaaaamiiiiituoooofoooooooo…
The monk drone, it goes on and on.
