“The way you eat, I thought you’d be fatter by now.”
Shin twined his fingers through mine and I burst out laughing. It seemed wrong to be so happy. I thought of the look on Ren’s face, the delight as though he’d been waiting all his life for me, and a shadow fell upon me. “I’m worried about Ren. Will you look out for him, and also Pei Ling? Find out if she’s recovered from her fall.”
At Ipoh Station, I lingered, not wanting to leave him. Shin said, “You’d better go. Otherwise I’ll end up getting out with you.” Not caring if other people saw us, he kissed me hard against the doorway of the train. Then he went back to his seat. I put my hand against the glass of the window; he placed his on the other side. I stared at Shin’s ring that glinted on my own middle finger. The ghost finger or jari hantu, as Koh Beng had called it. Shin tapped on the glass. Startled, I met his eyes. He shook his head. Go! And so, with a last glance, I went.
* * *
By the time I got to Falim, it was nearly noon and the sun’s white glare made me squint. I walked the last bit home in a daze. The interior of the shophouse was dark and cool, and it took me a few seconds to realize that Robert was standing there. With my mother and stepfather.
I froze. I’d meant to slip quietly in, not walk into a committee meeting.
“Where have you been, Ji Lin?” My mother’s anxious eyes took in my canary yellow frock, which unfortunately looked more like a party dress than ever.
“Why? What’s the matter?” I forced myself to speak coolly, though the pulse was hammering in my neck. How much had Robert told them?
“Robert said he couldn’t find you at Mrs. Tham’s.”
So. Not that much after all. I stole a look at him. He had a disheveled, agitated air, as though he, not I, was the one who’d spent the night away from home. My stepfather said nothing, but his long, silent stare gave me the most anxiety.
“I was out with my friend Hui. You remember her, don’t you?”
My mother had never met Hui; I prayed desperately she’d pick up on my silent plea. Her eyes cut sideways to my stepfather and amazingly, she said, “Oh, that’s right. I should have thought of that. Well, I’ll go and start lunch then.”
With this and other excuses, she managed to remove both herself and my stepfather, though not before he fixed me with a slit-eyed gaze.
As soon as they were gone, Robert said, “I want to talk to you.”
I didn’t like the insistence in his eyes, but there was nothing for it but to go on a little walk with him, away from the shophouse. We trudged along in silence, the noonday sun burning down on our heads. I felt dizzy and thirsty, my chest tight with dread.
“How long have you been working there?” he said at last.
“A few months.”
“I asked around,” he said awkwardly. “It’s a fairly decent dance hall, but it’s not a good job. You do know that, don’t you?”
Of course I knew it, though Robert proceeded to give me a long-winded lecture. I wished desperately that he’d go away, back to his world of servants and cars and trips to Europe, but I couldn’t afford to antagonize him, either.
“Look,” I said at last. “What do you think I do at the May Flower?”
“You dance with men. For money.” He wouldn’t meet my eye, and I realized he was busy imagining all sorts of other, unspoken things.
“Yes. I’m a … dance instructor,” I said. “And I’m there two afternoons a week. But I don’t do call-outs, though I’d probably make more money that way.”
Robert didn’t bat an eye at this talk about call-outs, and I realized with a faint feeling of surprise that he was familiar with the term. Perhaps he’d even gone on a few himself.
“Do you need money?”
Shin’s voice rang in my head—don’t ask him for anything—so I said, “That’s my business. Besides, I’m not working there anymore.”
He chewed his lip. “Let me help you, Ji Lin. After all, you stopped Shin from hitting me yesterday.”
“I didn’t want him to get into trouble,” I said, but Robert wouldn’t take the hint.
“I was shocked he got violent. Are you all right?”