So, I will be posting the story as entries in a diary. It is a work of fiction.
Let me know what you think.
Here's the prologue, before the diary begins.
Backward Beauty
We were walking home on a typically sticky, Bangkok night. Hurriedly, we crossed the dimly lit street, keeping an eye out for anyone with a bucket. During the week of this “Water Festival”, anyone who was out and about was a target for the townsfolk. Throwing water at people was to wish them good luck. But who knew where the water had come from? Most likely from the “klongs”, or canals that ran through the city; the canals whose water the locals used for cooking, bathing, washing as well as other, what mother had called “ human unmentionables”. It was this water that we were trying desperately to avoid.
But maybe I should’ve looked for someone with a bucket and begged them to soak me. Maybe things would’ve been different, if I’d had more luck that night.
Oi was my nanny and constant companion. She was pretty, olive skinned, with short, jet black hair closely framing her pixie like face. She was a lot of fun when she wanted to be and played every kind of game we could think of. But she could also be strict and made me do my homework, take a bath every day and she spent hours every night brushing my long, tangled hair.
I remember everything about that night. It had been burned into my head like onto a DVD.
“Let’s hurry, we’re almost home. I can see your parents’ cars in the garage. They must be home.”
She spoke to me in Thai. After living here for three years, I’d gotten good at that language. Everyone said that I sounded just like a little Thai girl. I just didn’t look like one. People must have thought it funny to ask me what I was. It happened often enough. I really hated that. “Human” was my standard answer but I knew they were really asking what race I was. I refused to give in to their curiosity. It was none of their business. What difference did it make what race I was?
We crossed the large garden in front of our house and walked up the stairs to the front door. I heard the sound of a car engine. I turned to look around the side of the house to where the garage was. I saw my father’s silver car backing out into the narrow street that was our private driveway. I raised my hand to wave at him and was about to call out “Daddy!” when the street lamp ahead lit up the inside of his car and I caught the expression on his face. He looked so pale, paler than usual. He was probably the palest man in the entire neighborhood, being the only “farang”(Thai for foreigner) here.
His face was serious, sad. His eyes were red and I thought I saw tears.
It all happened so quickly. The car backed out and he changed gears to move forward. Surely, he could see me as clearly as I could see him. I was standing right under the bright porch light. Yet, he looked right through me, as though I were invisible.
Time stopped as I watched him drive away. The only thought that came to my mind was the snorkeling gear that was sitting in the back window of his car. It had been my birthday present. We were planning to go to the beach soon to try it out. I worried that he’d forget to give it back. What a stupid thing to worry about, because deep inside me, I knew it was worse.
All those nights of listening at my parents' bedroom door; the shouting, the crying, the arguing. I knew it couldn’t end well. Maybe that’s how I knew.
“Come on inside, Li Mei. The neighbors are coming out with their buckets. Hurry!” Oi's whisper was urgent and anxious.
“Daddy…” my voice trailed off.
“He’s probably just gone out to meet friends. He’ll be back later.”
“No, he won’t.” I mumbled, too low for her to hear.
I was right.
