(un)lucky

five.

I WANT OUT OF MY SKIN. I WANT OUT OF MY BLOOD. SO SICK AND TIRED
SO SICK AND TIRED
OF THIS D-N-A//
♪

05: fault lines

WHEN MAMÉS GETS HOME, Lulu is in a heated monopoly match with Jun. They are seated on the floor amidst piles of dirty clothes, empty bags of chips, real and coloured money. In the pile of it all sits the mother-of-all tension, it chokes the air between them and crushes his airway.

He pauses at the doorway, although he wants to he can't look away. His eyes roam over the cracks in their relationship. From their subtle movements to barb-filled words and less than tender looks. It's like watching a jigsaw puzzle with its pieces jammed in all the wrong places.

Maybe the reason he can't look away is because he is that force. He knew divorce was usually an ugly thing and he is grateful theirs wasn't like that. Lulu was too poor and Jun too nice. But that didn't change the fact that the only thing keeping them tethered together was him. And he was selfish enough not to care.

Mamés clears his throat, shakes his head and pretends not to see as the door swings close behind him. The tension melts away like a passing fog. Out of sight, out of mind. He drops his bag on what is supposed to be an armchair but it resembles a statuesque skyscraper of clothes instead. "What's going on here?"

"Loser has to go to all the remaining school functions for the remaining term," Lulu mutters, counting and recounting a wad of brightly coloured yellow twenties.

"Really?" He asks, looking between them. "Who's losing?"

Lulu lets out a long exasperated sigh. "Well, Jun's nearly a fucking millionaire and I'm in debt so do the math."

Mamés snorts. "Then not so different from reality."

Wordlessly, she flips the finger at him.

"You're home late," Jun notes, rolling the dice.

It's instinct for Mamés to kick off his shoes by the shoe rack behind the door. But today, the act feels heavier than usual with Jun's presence in the house.

Jun raised him Chinese. It was something he admitted he didn't plan on but it "just kind of happened". After all, he was a first-generation Chinese immigrant moving to America for college and staying for love. His late wife Capri was Chinese-American but was as different from him as possible. She didn't take off her shoes in her home, nor did she love Bangkok more than life itself, she didn't celebrate nor acknowledge the Chinese new year. His mother often mentioned it was as good as marrying a white girl with a twinge of disappointment mixed with affection. But Capri was eager to learn and so Jun taught her and when they had Amy he taught her also. He had no midlife identity crisis nor did he ever feel different or awkward. He was that guy who created Asian clubs in college, the one who always answered the phone in Chinese and brought his smelly food to class. He skipped the awkward phase probably because he was raised to love his heritage from birth; his father was after all a history lecturer and his mother taught English literature in an international school. His family came from old money but had ordinary jobs. And when it came to Mamés it did help that he was as eager to learn, as Jun was to teach. Lulu didn't have an ounce of Nigerian in her other than her blood and her hair, her Igbo when he pestered her was choppy at best, limited to things little children would know: like good morning and thank you. And Mamés was only three when they moved in with Jun, he was like a sponge the way he soaked in everything Jun offered. Hurt when Lulu and Jun divorced and moved out. Lulu started to hate the little habits he'd picked up. She'd say, "That's not who you are Mamés.".and then he would (reply in his head) "Then who am I?"