King eyes me, a growing respect in his expression. “That is… something,” he admits. “I love the man, but not like that.”
I shrug and turn forward, continuing up the stairs. “Not everyone meets the person in the world who makes the most sense to them. Gael is life, like you said. I belong to him, and my life is his.” And the only exception I have ever made is when I took Phineas. I would sacrifice the whole world for Gael, but not Phineas. I couldn’t choose between the two of them, and I’m grateful I don’t have to, but King doesn’t need to know about that.
We reach the landing of the third floor, and King leads me to a door as far from the stairs as it gets. The door muffles the wail of a woman behind it. I can’t make out the words, but the rhythm of them repeats over and over. King doesn’t knock, he just opensthe door, calling out, “Mrs. Lam, it’s King. I’ve brought someone to talk to you.”
He walks us into the apartment, which is clean, tidy, and full of Vietnamese cultural decor. Mirrors decorate the space, and I have a suspicion what is happening now that I’m in the space. The wailing woman sits on a low sofa, wearing a brightly patterned button up blouse with matching pants and a cardigan over it. Incense burns in two places, filling the room with the spicy scent of it.
“This is Pham Ti Lam,” King explains, arranging the name correctly for Vietnamese. I like that he respects her culture; he doesn’t have to, because he is clearly the power in this neighborhood, entering homes without asking for permission. The dichotomy of the way he asserts his authority over the residents here and the way he protects them is intriguing.
We leave our shoes by the door and enter the woman’s apartment. I kneel on the other side of the low table in front of her, and introduce myself in Vietnamese. “Hello,BaLam. I am Caysin Ingan. Your friend, King, wants to know what’s troubling you.”
Lam rocks a little, glancing at me and looking out the window. “The ghosts in this place trouble me. I pray loudly because they don’t listen. I want them to leave.”
That would explain the chanting rhythm of her wails. “Ah. Perhaps we can pray together, then. Two voices instead of one.”
BaLam doesn’t look at me, but she nods in assent.
I turn to King. “The ghosts in the apartment are troubling her. I will pray with her and maybe convince them to leave her alone. It would be better if you prayed with us. Sometimes the ghosts will listen to the man in charge better than an old woman and a stranger.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Ghosts? I don’t?—”
I hold up my hand to stay his protests. “Whether or not you have even seen one or experienced their mischief, you are the man in charge here. I cannot see them, but there is little harm in assuming that they are here and need someone with authority to convince them to leave. If you tell them to leave and they do, you’ve doneBaLam a service; if you pray with us and they remain, you have done nothing and nothing but a few minutes of your time is lost, and you’ve already proven toBaLam that she is worth your time.”
I don’t believe in ghosts, but I believe that people are comforted by ritual, which is what this is forBaLam.
King stares at me a moment before nodding. “A’ight. I don’t know the words.”
“They are probably English-speaking ghosts anyway,” I respond, turning back toBaLam. “We will pray. He will pray in English, and I will pray in Spanish. Do you know Chinese? If we pray in those languages, we might be heard.”
BaLam glances at me again and jerks a nod. “I know Chinese.”
“Then we will all pray and hopefully the ghosts will hear us and move on.”
BaLam agrees, and starts chanting in Chinese. I join her with a Spanish prayer for peace, and then King’s voice joins us, not so much praying as commanding the spirits to leaveBaLam alone and to leave his apartment complex completely.
After only a minute,BaLam stops with a smile on her face as she looks out the window. “They have left us now. Thank you. Tell the king I will cook himBánh Bôt Loctomorrow.”
I relay the information and provide translation service between the two of them for a few minutes. After we’re done, King escorts me back to my car, thanking me for the help. When we arrive, Gael and King’s men have finished loading the car and are passing the time sharing a pipe. Gael partakes like he’sdone this with them before, and when they see me and King, the disappointment on the faces of the men around Gael tells me that King isn’t the only person in the place who thinks of Gael fondly.
A round of hugs follows, and it’s nice to know that Gael is loved by his neighbors, even though I’m so very glad to be taking him away from here. When I finally get him in the car, it feels like my soul settles for the first time in years. Finally, Gael’s where he belongs: with me.
Three Years Ago
Gael
Learning to Eat Properly
My entire body cramps with hunger. I lie on the bare mattress in my bedroom, stripped to my boxers and sweating like I’ve run a marathon. The AC is blowing directly on me from the window unit, and my teeth chatter like I’m cold, but it’s the clamminess making me shiver. I’ve gone longer without seeing Sin. I shouldn’t be this bad after just a week, but I swore to myself I would learn how to eat without him.
Guilt swamps me as much as the humidity in this shitty apartment. He doesn’t have any desire for anyone at all unless he’s with me because I’ve eaten all the desire out of him. I’m such a greedy bastard. I love him so fucking much, but his entire libido revolves around my fucking enthrallment, and it’s because I refused to eat anyone but him all this time.
How could anyone taste as good as Sin? The only way any of our partners were palatable were if they were mixed with Sin. I hate this so much. I wish I could keep justifying my selfishness,but I can’t. I need to learn how to stomach the energy of others without him around.
There’s plenty of it in this place. Three of the four walls I share with other apartments are exuding sexual energy right now. It’s my fault, of course. Just being here and hungry causes my natural enthrallment to spread out looking for a meal, which arouses the people around me. Since what I crave is the energy associated with libido, it excites everyone’s libido. My magic doesn’t care that I can’t stand the taste of anyone without Sin in the mix, it only knows I’m hungry.
My stomach cramps again, and I breathe through it, curled up on this secondhand mattress I picked up from the thrift store yesterday.
Ok, I need to do this. I have to be able to eat properly.
