Spirit is everything in Cambodia. Our parents tell us that on the day we are born, our spirit is flying above, summoned to land in that split second of time when our body slips into this world. They choose us; they are our first taste of the air.

We are sewing mosquito nets in the cool outdoor corridor in the middle of our two-story house. I smell magnolias and drying fish.

We are so poor. Ba rides his bike to work in the fields, a few hours journey each way. Sometimes he disappears for days at a time. There is never enough food, and when we are not at school we are working for Mae, endlessly stitching new nets to sell in the local market or in Phnom Phen. We are always waiting for holiday, once a year noodle soup and two new sets of clothes

I am maybe five or six. Already, I am angry at my spirit.

“Why you have to stop here, why this poor family?” I ask. “Why you do this to me? If you had flown a little slower, you would have landed just next door. Look how many things you would have had — a TV, a car, lots of food.”

Then I look out in the other direction.

“Why you not fly a little slower? Even on the other side, still things would have been a little better. Why you have to land here?”

The sun is setting over the Mekong, the evening chills. The cicadas chat with birds, a dog howls. I can hear my stomach clenching with hunger, so empty it is hard to pay attention to my stitching. The babies begin to cry and Big Brother tries to distract them. Our well-seasoned ears easily weed out the sound of Ba’s bike as he turns into the alley beside our home. Now we can eat.

Everyone loves Ba. He is an artist. “Oh, your father, he so wise,” they say. Our neighbors and everyone in our family come to him for advice. He knows everything. And oh, how he loves to tell stories about Grandpa’s life in China. These are my favorite times. After dinner, I am so tired, still hungry, our sewing is folded away, the babies sleep. Only the crickets chatter as Ba begins to talk. Akmow, our black lab, curls at his feet.

Ba enchants me with bigger-than-life, true fairytales, so rich and humming with life that time and space disappear.

I am no longer just one little girl in a large poor Cambodian family. I am traveling inside Ba’s memories. I am in China, crouching outside a school with other hushed children, secretly listening to lessons only meant for rich young ears. I am dancing in the dark swollen fields, chasing down fireflies, capturing hundreds in a clear glass jar. I poke holes in the lids and read very big schoolbooks by the light of my firefly lantern.

My real night sky becomes too heavy with stars and moonlight. I sleep.

My eyes snap open as Ba settles me down in the long bamboo bed with my sisters.

“It’s okay. You were dreaming,” he whispers. I stare for a moment into his deep black eyes. I sigh and turn away into sleep. We, four sisters, side by side every night, tiny sardines packed tight in a poreless tin can. So safe.

A bicycle ride with Ba

Today is an important day. Ba is taking me to get my birth certificate so I can go to big children’s school. I ride on the handlebars of his bike to the government building in the center of town.

Downtown Takmou is always crowded, so much to see. The outside market full of merchants selling colorful silks and threads, cloths, shiny jewelry, books. So many things to eat here. Fruit and vegetable stands overflow with banana and papaya, cabbage, aubergine, tomatoes, potatoes. Plump ducks and chicken hang from long strings. Smell of cooking meats and fish. Rows of tuks tuks and motobikes, bicycles. Pictures everywhere of Prince Sihanouk.

Cars and buses with windows wide open cross bridge over Mekong, some pass by Takmou on way to Vietnam.

There are many people in line at the building by the time we arrive, some friends from the Buddhist school. But everyone is quiet inside, the children stand still beside their parents; we all turn to look each time someone joins the line to see if it is someone we know.

I still don’t understand why this day so important. Why I need a paper to show I was born when I have been here for eight years already?

When we reach the front desk, Ba tells the woman the date and place of my birth. Lots of other information about our family. It takes a long time before she finally hands him a fancy piece of thick white paper tucked into a long silver container. He puts it into his sac. Counts out riel and places in her hand.

“Let me see, Ba, let me see!” I grab onto my father’s sleeve as soon as we are outside.

“Wait, Kim. Wait.”

Ba says he is going to buy me a treat to celebrate. We stop at a fancy food stand beside the Mekong River. I choose fried bananas and coconut ice cream.

“Big treat for big girl,” he says.” Almost like your birthday.”

We sit on the lawn alongside the River, shaded by a small grove of cypress trees. The blue and red Cambodian flag sails in a cool afternoon breeze. We watch fisherman as they work on their nets. Dirty-faced bare-chested little boys rush back and forth from the boats carrying buckets of fish to the market. A group of old men sit on wooden boxes with dominoes spread out before them on top of a rusted lobster crate.

A young man is sitting in the grass playing a guitar. I think maybe he is an American. He has yellow hair and little brown spots on his face and the music is like nothing I have ever heard before. He looks so strange here, so unexpected, like finding a pink pearl inside a cracked clam shell. I just stare in disbelief as I eat my ice cream. My father glances at me and, for just a second, looks out to see what I am staring at before turning his attention back to his own thoughts.

Finally, Ba reaches into his sac and removes my birth certificate from its holder. The paper is heavy with a raised seal in the bottom corner marked with the date. I trace the letters of my name with my fingers. This is the first time I have seen my name printed anywhere. I feel so proud and special, maybe now everything will be different. I am important now.

When I look up again the American is gone. We ride home on the bicycle. I am so excited to show Mae my special paper. But when I run into the house she is lying quietly on her bed. Big sister lifts her fingers to her mouth to signal me no talking. I walk outside and join my other sisters. They don’t even look up when I sit down beside them. Nothing is different. Mosquito nets are always the most important thing.

***

I am daughter number three in family of five girls, one boy. We live alongside Highway 2 just outside Phnom Phen. The Highway is always so busy – bicycles, cars, motos, ox carts drawn by water buffalo. Even sometimes elephants walk by. A big park and a lake are just across the road from our house and in the distance the small village of Takau sits aside the Mekong River.

Ba’s brother and his family live next door. We are in and out of each other’s homes all day, like no walls. Our houses are the same; small, concrete, two stories, three walls front to back, a large middle room open to the sky.

We live behind grandmother’s old house which sits set back from the highway behind tall stalks of lemongrass, vines of purple passion flowers, banana plants, palm and banyan trees. An ancient kou tree is just outside her front door. Sign of good luck.

Our families cook outside –ocre, shellfish, plantain, hot peppers – while we chase the cats and chickens in the tiny alleys between the houses. The Buddhist Temple is just one house away. In the morning, the little kids study Khmer and Buddhism. Everybody visits Temple when they have a problem. Bring roast pig, fruit, pork rolls, flowers. Gifts for the monk when you have a problem.

My family doesn’t have many problems until Mae becomes ill. Every three years, she and my father have another child. But something goes wrong with the last baby. One day Mae is pregnant. Then one day baby is gone. Nobody says anything. Nobody even thinks to ask. But suddenly it seems like Mae is always frightened. Her heart beats fast under her shirt. Her throat pulses like frog. She cannot sleep. I lie next to her every night now, massaging her to help her sleep. Many nights I pour oil on my mother’s sin and firmly rub a coin or a spoon across her skin, trying to release the evil air inside her

Everybody knows Mae is sick because of some bad spirit, because she has to suffer now for something she did wrong or bad luck from her family. This is a big shame for our family, Mae’s illness brings fear into our lives; means we need to protect and hide her.

So many times my family comes to temple to ask monk what to do about getting rid of evil spirit. What Mae do to bring such shame on our family? What sacrifice we make to end this?

He shakes fortune sticks, lets them fall, says “pick one.”

Then he tells you what he sees. Sticks show different answers every time, but we always do what monk says. Otherwise, bad luck.

But after Mae become sick, our family never finds luck again. Whatever that spirit that come into her body, it just settle right in.

At night I dream about the purple ghost. Always the same dream. It tiptoes out from under my bed, huge thorned horns first, and sits right on top of my head, terrifying with its sharp bloody nails and long forked tongue.

“I have caught you,” it snears. “Now you will never get away.”

I know better than to tell anyone about my dream. They all think I am haunted, too. Better stay quiet at night when I wake up frozen with fear.

***

One of the big problems always in my family is that grandma not like Mae. She not good enough for Ba, even though she comes from a wealthy Kandal family. They own big fish canning company. Maybe my mother does not know how to read and write, but she knows so many other things. She runs her own business, she works so hard so her children can stay in school. She is very successful, makes more money than Ba to support the family. She never complains.

“She so dumb,” Grandma always say.

I just don’t understand. Why Grandma travel so far to ask permission for Ba to marry Mae if she not want her as a daughter? Sometimes I think maybe grandma is jealous because Mae’s family is rich. Every year when the fish come in, we visit. Grandma never comes and she always seems to be even meaner when we come home.

Everyone knows an evil spirit is inside Mae, but Grandma says it is Mae who is evil, that she did something very bad to bring shame on our family. She talks to Ba at night. I hear them outside the window as I lie next to my mother, waiting for her to sleep.

“You should leave her, she bad woman,” I hear her say. “Let brother’s wife take care of kids.”

I feel such fear clutch at my heart but I know that my mother is even more afraid. I know she is only pretending to be asleep because those frogs just start croaking silently beneath the soft skin of her throat. They always give her away.

“The neighbor put a curse on her,” Grandma says. “She told me nothing will make her remove it. She hates our family.”

The frogs croak even louder.

But why we worry? Ba is such a good man. No way he is going to leave his wife. We listen as he tells his mother his decision. He is too busy to take care of Mae and he knows Grandma is too old. Big sister will leave school She will run the family. All of the children will help more with my mother’s business. Big brother must stay in school and when he comes home each day he will handle all the big decisions for the family. And my job? I will go with Mae to every healer we can find. Maybe I will have to leave school, too.

Little by little frogs go to sleep in Mae’s neck. I rest my head on her chest. Finally, we both sleep.

***

A healer

The sun travels up, up towards roof sky when the little bus stop at Dram-Ka.

“Staight ahead, three mile,” driver say. “You see vat. Big Buddha statue. Only one arm. Turn there. Follow nose. Incense. Very strong.”

Mae and I stop at very, very old coconut juice stand, Big holes in red canvas roof. Owner asleep on bicyle.

“Uncle, wake up. We need some drink.”

Old man so slow getting to his feet. His soiled krama is wet with sweat. Cracked lenses in glasses.

He hacks off heads of two baby green coconuts, slips straw inside each. I pay him rire. We walk. Now we get energy from cold white juice. Tastes so good.

Mae walk so slow. She not understand where we go.

“Why we here, Pom? Where we going? Want to go home.”

So many times I grab her arm, stop her from turning back.

“Mae, No. We go see doctor. He make you better.”

Mae’s eyes so scared. What she doing out here with little daughter? Her hands shaking so bad.

“It’s okay, Mae. I take care of you. Not too far.”

We walk in mid day heat. Dirt path between brave green rice fields. Water buffalo walk so slow. No people look up from their work. No faces, only big straw circle hats. Rice paddies stretch way back to where hazy blue sky touches field.

I wish so bad big sister here. I too little to do this. So frightened to be boss. Afraid to be with Mae. I try not to worry, link arms. Start to hum song to calm her down. So afraid I loose her. What if she just pull away and run? What I do then?

Now we in small forest. Much cooler. Noisy monkeys play high in deep green branches. Many birds talk. Walk faster, Mae. Walk faster. Maybe big tiger here. Not feel so safe. Mae so scared now, she pull away from me, try to run back.

Grab her arm, pull her with me. She crying now. Crying and screaming.

“Just walk, Mae. Just walk. You feel much better. You see.”

Very hard work, almost carrying Mae. Maybe she sick but she still strong. We fall couple times and everytime I rush to stand up before her. Pull her up. Big big bump in my throat, heart beaingt so fast, hard to breath. How I get her there?

Forest clears for a few small houses. Three, maybe four young monks sitting outside vat. Sun so hot their bright yellow robes blinding like sun.

Mae wants to sit down outside temple.

“We almost there, Mae. Just two minutes.”

We sit next to one-armed Buddha. Two children play Bay Khoum. So long since I play this game. Big board with eight small holes in front, two in back. First child drops beads one by one into eight holes until only six beads left. Then pick up all beads in hole next to empty hole. Pick all beads up. They confused about game. They not know how to play. Start yelling at each other.

I too tired to tell them. It not my place anyway. Tall monk come over to stop fighting. Lead them back into vat.

I urge Mae onto feet again. Overgrown path, sticky berry plants scratch white lines on legs and arms. Families of cats sleep under young cherry blossom trees, huge banana plants. Sandalwood smell very strong. Small hut. Old black dog stretched out in sun, Dirty white horse. No door. I push aside heavy strings of burial beads. Look inside.

Altars, everywhere candles, little smoke pods from incense, fruit, flowers. Wrinkled old man wearing loincloth look up.

“Kru khmae? Bad spirit make my mother so sick. You help her?”

Pull fist of coins from pocket. Mae crying so hard she fall on ground. I put coins on huge altar.

Kru Khame stand, walk over to Mae, bend down. Lift her face in wrinkled brown hand. He so gentle. She stop crying like that.

“You wait outside,” he say. “No children here.”

Rain come so strong … white flower from plum tree fall on ground, some in my hair. World smell so pretty. Sit under big banyan tree, still get wet. Not know how many hours Mae inside. When she finally come out she look very calm. I take her hand and we walk across little white flowers layer ground like snowflakes. Rain stop, big clouds separate. Sky dark blue just before nightfall.

***

I not remember how many kramen’s we see, how many journeys we take outside our village, sometimes to far away places to find a cure … year after year, things like this: Mae sits in an old wooden chair inside a circle during a healing ceremony. People dance and sing around her. The healer plays a Cambodian drum. When the ghost comes into his body, he shakes all over and dances around like he is crazy. Someone puts something black in her mouth. She chews it, then they open her mouth and drop some liquid in. Mae starts to shake all over, then she fall limp in her chair. I take her home.

Sometimes she is better for awhile. But always we are searching from a new kramen, a new healer, some different herbs. Ba’s mother comes along sometimes but she has no patience. She is still angry at all the troule Mae has caused her son and her family. She likes Ba’s wife so much better. No problems there.

***

Takmou. 1967

I like being 16. When I comb my hair in the morning, I do not recognize this young woman who looks back at me from the mirror. Where she come from? Now I am pretty, wear skirts and pretty shirts like my older sisters. I am still so innocent.

Takmou so different now. Many buildings now home to government soldiers. Seem like so many boys now join army and many older soldiers live here alone without their families.

One of the soldiers, Pran, is a nurse. He visits our house a few days a week and gives Mae some medication. Look like maybe he as old as Ba. He starts hanging around after leaving her room, joking and laughing with me, telling me I am the prettiest girl he has seen anywhere in Cambodia and he has traveled everywhere.

Pran is the first person to tell me bad things about Sihanouk. He says our leader allows North Vietnamese to set up camps inside our country. Now Ho Chi Minh Trail inside Cambodia, so Vietnamese can move supplies to troops in the South to fight Americans. Big American planes have started dropping bombs on villages near the border. Many Cambodians dying.

“You wait,” Pran say. “War coming to Cambodia. Rebel troops gathering in countryside, want to get rid of Sihanouk.”

Ba not want to hear these stories.

“Who tell you these things?” he asks. ” Too complicated for you. Sihanouk hero. Don’t listen to anyone who say different. Only cause trouble.”

Pran not causing any trouble for me, though. He flirt and flirt with me, make me think I somehow more special than my other sisters. So what that he is so much older than me? He is so wise and he think I smart, too. Why else he tell me all this news, all these secrets?

Pran starts to come to see me at night, when everyone else asleep. He stands outside my window and we whisper and laugh. He strokes my face. Tells me how he thinks about me all the time, how he wants to be alone with me. That I have won his heart. I don’t know if anyone hears us. We don’t care. One night we meet secretly outside house, hold hands and kiss and talk. He says he wants to marry me. I know he is already married with a couple kids, but he tells me he not love his wife. I so young. I believe him. So exciting, being in love, having someone so important love me.

Nothing free in this life. One day his wife and kids come stay with him – he live only a few houses away from us – and I think “I cannot do this anymore.” I tell Mae he say he want to marry me.

“Why you want to marry married man?” she ask. I say not know, maybe love him.

“Don’t be stupid,” she says. “That is no life for you.” Even though okay in Cambodia for man to have old and young wife, Mae not want this for me.

So when Pran sends someone to ask my mom if he can marry me, Mae is angry. “No way, he is already married. Tell him to leave my daughter alone.”

Pran not like hearing this from a woman. He sends word that if Mae does not agree, he is going to kidnap me. He is determined that I will be his new wife.

Oh, what is my family to do? My parents are so afraid. For many weeks they do not let me leave the house and always Big Brother or someone must be in room with me. Never leave me alone at home. Late in the evenings, I hear Ba and Mae whispering, trying to decide what to do. I must have fallen asleep on the night they made their decision because when they tell me at breakfast the next morning that they are sending me away to Phnom Phen, I am shocked and terrified.

Ba explains that a friend of his is very important man in the army in Phnom Phen. He has a big family, lives in a big, fancy house. I will be safe there. They will take me in as one of their own. Everything has been arranged. It not matter how much I cry, cling to my mother, say how I cannot leave her when she still not well.

I only 17 and Mae has to send me away.

Oh my poor mom, she never have fun. Mother-in-law hate her. She has lot of kids and and then she is sick. Now I leaving her.

Oh, my new family so very wealthy. Their chauffeur picks me up and drives me into Phnom Phen, traveling along strange shiny streets lined with mansions and huge temples, green grass lawns and tended gardens, so much space between many of the buildings enough room for maybe 100 of my house. No dust. Nothing like poor city I visit with Mae when we take our nets to sell in market. No, I think I must just wake up in a new world. Nothing familiar. Look like pictures in movies or magazines. Nobody like people I grow up with. Nothing like this in Takmou.

My new home has big beautiful rooms, with sofas and carpets, huge comfortable chairs, paintings on the walls. A broad wooden staircase winds upstairs where there are eight small rooms with real beds inside, high above the floor.  Each room has another tiny room just to keep clothes and shoes. Even these tiny rooms have doors!

My new aunt and uncle have six or seven children. A servant carries my sac to the room where I am to sleep with the daughter and the baby. Daughter so fancy. She wear American clothes and talks to servant in French, sending her out of the room. Then she sit on chair and just stare at me.

“You pretty, Bing, but you need some new clothes. Need to fix your hair.”

I look down at my feet, feel so ashamed. Then she laugh, jump off chair and come over to hug me.

“Don’t look so worried, Bing. You live with us now. We going to have so much fun.”

At evening meal we sit around large table. Beautiful plates and glasses, silver forks and spoons. Not know how to eat like this. Servants come in and out of kitchen with steaming pots of food. Prawhet fish ball Soup, Mi-Seim noodles with pork, broccoli and snow peas, fish, jumbo prawns and tofu served in black pepper sauce. Sticky rice with sesames and coconut cake. Never eat such fancy food, so many different meals at one time.

I go everywhere with them, to buy food and shop. When I go home to visit my family, I travel in a chauffered car. I never spend the night there, we are all too afraid of the soldier.

Nights in Phnom Phen are magic. The family has three sons in high school and every night the older son, Billy,  drives us around the city. He is so handsome. Studying to be a doctor. The streets are full of cars with other young people. Music playing. We pull over to talk with friends, decide on destination. Mostly I love the parks, always full of young people, eating ice-cream, flirting girls and boys. Playing in the fountains. They talk about school and who has crush on who. News about parties. Complaints about parents who are too strict.

At first I feel so much the outsider. What I doing with these rich city kids? But it doesn’t seem to matter to them that I am a newcomer. Nobody ask where I come from. Billy and Sealion just say I new niece, visiting from outside city. Nobody ask about my family. They not know I poor. Never enter their mind because new family treats me like true relative. This is just how things are in Cambodia. Nothing odd about living with new famly. I make new friends. Everyone is so close.

I am a new person in a different world. I have escaped poverty and illness and the small joyless home where there is only struggle and hard work, illness and hunger. This is the life that was waiting for me. My spirit chose well, after all.

***

Older sister finds me first job in Phnom Phen, working as a seamstress. Oh, they are happy to have me! All my years sewing mosquito nets pay off, now I sewing fancy clothes for rich ladies. Lucky me, okay to save extra fabric for myself. Beautiful Thai and Chinese silks for  long colorful Cambodian skirts and sarongs, soft chamoises. Now I no different than the other sexy city girls; Long hair, high heels, a lot of makeup and jewelry. Ba shake his head when I come home. “Where my little girl now,? he ask. Mae worries about the men, maybe they think me too cheap. What I care? Life is carefree and fun. So many new friends.

Phnom Phen. 1972

<insert civil war>

Very hot day when older sister comes to shop with big news. She and her husband have bought a restaurant. They want me to work for them. “Come next week,” she say. “Pack your things. Plenty room upstairs for you to live there, too.” Sister so happy she leave and forget to tell me address. Only know what neighborhood.

Oh, what a fancy restaurant. White table clothes and fresh flowers on every table. A wooden bar in the back with all kinds of wines. Sister so happy to see me. We hug and laugh, pour tall glasses of sparkling white wine. Drink too much that day. Her husband get annoyed. “You bad influence on little sister,” he say. “Your father be very angry he see you two now. She here to work. I told him i take care of her.”

“Oh, phew,” she says. “Leave us alone now. We have fun. Go watch children”

What happen to my big sister? Never see a woman talk like this to her husband. I think maybe he hit her, but he just shrug his shoulders and laugh. “Have fun today, but tomorrow we work hard. Don’t drink too much. No hangover.”

Opening day is so busy. Friends of sister and brother, merchants from nearby shops, my new city family come by. Like big party. So many handsome men flirting with me, giving me big tips to spend time talking with them at their tables. So many soldiers from Lon Nal’s army. Not realize how many soldiers in city before.

Not too long thought before I find out that most of them are married, only stationed in Phnom Phen with their families back in the villages. They lonely, come to drink and party with pretty girls. They flirt with my sister, too. Oh, how many nights they drink long into the night, sometimes getting into fights, pulling out their guns, arguing over our attention. Sometimes I get nervous but the money so good and I love shopping along Chicken Road for expensive jewelry and hats, new shoes. Get my hair fixed.

I am sitting with a group of soldiers drinking sake one night when Thea walks in. He is a friend of our family who is now in medical school in Phnom Phen.. Thea’s family is middle class, richer than us, but because we share the same last name we are like family. When Thae was young he sometimes stayed in our house in Takmou while he went to high school. I am four years younger than him. Oh, I forget how handsome he is, so much better than all these soldiers who always want to grip me, steal kisses. Treat me like something to buy.

Thea spoils me so bad. He takes me out all the time.  Talk to me about real things. <insert Khmer Rouge>One time I go to the bathroom in the restaurant and I have a worm from eating too much raw meat. I don’t know what is wrong and I come out of the bathroom and say “Gee, I have something” and he says “Oh, you have a worm” and he brings me medicine and stays with me for 24 hours, follows me around to make sure I am okay. He kisses my forehead, touches my hand. Nobody ever treat me so special before. I only want to spend time with him. I want to be the girl he sees, the person he respects.

On one of my visits home, mom tells me that Thea’s parents want him to marry a girl who is in medical school with him. Her parents are very wealthy and they are going to buy their son a house and a car when they marry. I remember that Thea’s father once told me “I don’t care who my son marries so long as he is happy.” But I get a funny feeling. Gee, he going to marry her? Why he with me all the time? What’s going on?

Thea keeps coming to see me at the restaurant. One night we go out to dinner. The stars are out, it is a soft warm night and we drive through the crowded city streets on his blue Vespa.

“Do you see that house?” He points as we pass by a beautiful building in a fancy neighborhood. “That is where the girl my parents want me to marry lives. I don’t want to marry her. When you and I get married, we won’t have a big wedding.”

I sit behind him on the bike, my arms clutch his waist, so comfortable, content. Feel the wind on my cheeks, brushing through my hair, feel crazy with excitement. What does Mae know? Thae not care about that fancy girl. I his choice. I dream about marrying Thae. What our life will be like, a beautiful and rich young couple setting up house in one of the city’s best neighborhoods. Everyone will look at us with envy. “Oh, they are so happy, so perfect for each other.”

But he never asks and so this idea remains silent between us. And now I am 21 and mom is worried I will get pregnant. She is afraid I am going to do something stupid. I am always telling her “Don’t worry, mom. I am going to get married. You will see.”

A lot of soldiers want to marry me and three of them begin fighting over me. “Go ask my mom,” I tell them. “I will marry the man who goes to see my mother.”

Why did I do that? A couple of months later, one of the soldiers, he is an important man, but much older than me, not at all handsome, takes me up on it. He visits my mother. He has been married before and has a son. He is not in the active army. He works in the city.

What Mae thinking? She agree to this marriage. We marry in my mother’s house. We close the restaurant and have a big party with a security guard outside because we are still very much in danger from the old married soldier who threatened to kidnap me.

I am married to the man who won me in a contest. We move into a small house near my second sister. It is 1973. I sit in this house day after day, waiting for him to come home. Sometimes he doesn’t come for days and days. I get pregnant without planning to; I had only had sex a couple of times.

I spend a lot of time with my sister next door and her kids.

The kidnapping begins. During the night, the Khmer Rouge come. Neighbors just disappear. They are gone in the morning. No one knows. No one says anything.

***