A Hundred Suns A Novel - Karin Tanabe Page 0,147

carrying me inside, where I heard whispers, felt a woman’s hand on my face, and then was lowered onto a wooden bed.

When I was horizontal, I let my hand go slack. “Take my money,” I said into the air, letting my bag drop to the floor, desperate for past and present to just disappear in curls of smoke.

“Your pipe, madame,” a woman said, holding up my head.

I took in the smoke deeply once, then a few times more in quick succession, before pushing her away with my limp hand. “No more,” I said, rolling onto my side and trying to bring my knees to my chest. I wanted to shrink to nothing.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when I felt hands on me again. “I don’t want any more,” I said, trying to wave the woman away.

“It’s Lanh,” I heard a voice say. I managed to open my eyes. It was indeed Lanh. I held my arms out to him, not able to get up on my own.

Under Lanh’s reassuring touch, I let my eyes close again and collapsed against him as he picked me up.

When I awoke, I couldn’t tell if it had been minutes, hours, or days. I blinked and sat up slowly. I was in the back seat of the Delahaye with the doors open on either side, a cool breeze passing through. Outside the car, on a large rock, I saw Lanh sitting, though the edges of my vision were still frayed from sleep. We were on the bank of the Red River, in a spot he had driven me past before. A scenic detour, he’d called it. One of many he had taken, happy to meander and show me the city when Victor wasn’t present. When he realized I was awake, he jumped up and came over to the car.

“Lanh,” I said quietly, trying to focus on him. I stretched my hand out to him, and he helped me climb out of the car and steady myself on the dry reddish ground. He pointed to the rock and I shook my head, still feeling too unstable, so we both sat on the ground next to it instead, leaning against it for support.

I looked at him, hoping for answers.

“The woman who prepared your pipe at Luong-Vuong,” he began. “She saw your identity card in your bag. She went to the hotel next door and telephoned the house. I answered. She robbed you, I think, but at least she telephoned.” He gave me an anxious look. “Are you feeling like yourself now?”

“I don’t even know what that means anymore,” I replied. “But the world seems to be calmer. I think. And I feel less sick. The opium helped.”

He nodded, his eyes still on me.

“What time is it?” I asked, looking up at the sun directly above us.

“It’s almost noon,” he replied.

It wasn’t even midday and I felt like I’d already been to war.

“Lanh,” I said, turning to him, suddenly remembering where I’d been before Luong-Vuong. “Did you take me, Lucie, and Victor to the station this morning?”

“Of course,” he said without pause.

“Of course,” I repeated, feeling the familiar, stinging sensation of tears ready to flow. I buried my face in my hands.

“I’m so utterly confused,” I said through the sobs that needed to come.

“Do you not remember?” he said, inching away to give me some room.

“I do,” I said, opening my eyes again. “I think that’s why I’m crying. Because I do remember. Today, yesterday, all of it. I do remember, but everyone is telling me I’m wrong. That something is very wrong with me. But I don’t think there is.”

I glanced at him and he quietly said, “Who is telling you that you’re wrong?”

I repeated the same story I had told the stationmaster. “But he told me I arrived alone. Without Victor and Lucie. And then he called the house and Trieu told him that they weren’t in Hanoi at all. That they had gone to see the caves in Trang An together. Caves, of all things. I wasn’t convinced by what he was saying, but I just don’t trust myself lately, so I agreed and ran out of the station. As you can imagine, I was very distraught. All I could manage was to lose myself under a cloud of opium for a while. But then you found me, thank God. I knew I wasn’t wrong. I don’t know where they are, but I know they are not in Trang An and they

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