Moon Bear Page 14

  We sat in silence, listening to the other bears munch and slurp the fruits Kham had brought.

  Kham picked at the loose sole on one of his sneakers. “Ma says it’s wrong,” he said quietly.

  I stared into the small flame flickering on the thin wick.

  “She was the one who cleaned the bears out,” he said.

  I looked at him. “Your ma came here?’

  Kham smiled. “She saw me sneak over and came to find me. She was going to stop me until she saw how the bears lived. She said it is no life at all for them.”

  I sank my head onto my knees.

  “I told her where you’d gone, too,” he said.

  “What did she say?”

  “She thought you wouldn’t come back. But I knew you would. I said you’d come back for the bears.”

  I nodded. “I had no choice.”

  “So what will you do?” asked Kham.

  “Do?” I said.

  Kham leaned forward and covered the lamplight a little with his hand. “Tam,” he said. “I know you cannot stay.”

  “No,” I said.

  “And you will take Sôok-dìi.”

  I stood up and tried to coax Sôok-dìi over with some rice crackers. He pressed against the bars, away from me. “I want to take him back, Kham,” I said. “To the forest.”

  Kham’s eyes widened. “You can’t just let him go, Tam. He hasn’t learned to hunt or find food for himself.”

  “I will help him.” I said. I felt hot tears burn behind my eyes, because I knew what Kham was saying was true. “I know the forest, Kham. I can survive in the forest. I have lived there all my life. I’ll catch small animals and birds for him to eat. I’ll teach him where to find the berries, how to root for nuts and mushrooms, and where to find the eggs of the ant nest in the trees. Sôok-dìi will learn from me.”

  Kham sighed. “And how will you get him there?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I’d been turning this over and over in my mind. “What about one of the logging trucks that come to your father’s yard?”

  Kham shook his head. “How will you sneak him into the truck driver’s cab? I think they might notice a bear!”

  “Then I will take him up the river on a boat and he’ll be my dancing bear.”

  Kham stood up and looked in at Sôok-dìi, too. “Tam,” he said quietly, “General Chan thinks this is the bear to cure his daughter. He is not the sort of man who will let this bear go. If you leave, he will find Sôok-dìi, and he will find you, too.”

  The next morning Sôok-dìi was back almost to his normal self. When I opened his cage, he was reluctant to jump down at first. He sniffed the air and looked around him as if the air were different in the barn. Biter was watching from his cage, his paws splayed to try to cool himself. It had been a hot and sticky night, one of the hottest since I’d lived here in the city. There was no getting away from it. No stream to wade through or mountain ridge to climb and feel for the breeze. Mama Bear’s cub lay with his feet draped through the bars. His mouth hung open, panting. I sprayed the hose on the bears to cool them, and Biter turned on his back to let me spray his belly with water. I wanted to reach through and touch him, but I didn’t dare. I’d seen just how fast he could move when he wanted to.

  Sôok-dìi followed me around, snuffling under the other bears’ cages for dropped food and licking up the puddles. I rolled him onto his back and tickled his belly. When I traced my fingers along the needle marks in his skin, he tried to pull my hand away with his mouth. “Come on,” I said. I kicked a tin can along the barn and he chased after it, patting it with his paws and scuffing it up into the air. I let him play while I fed the rice-and-water mix to all the bears.

  I didn’t have any money to buy fruit. I would have no money until Kham and I could take Sôok-dìi dancing for the tourists again, but I didn’t know when that would be. I coaxed Sôok-dìi back into his cage with a piece of chicken I’d saved from my supper the night before. I shut the door, and he pushed his big paw against the bars and tried to reach me. I slid his tray of rice into his feed bowl and watched as he licked and snuffled around his tray for every last grain of rice.

  I wanted to stay longer and let him out in the barn to stretch his legs and play. I wanted to regain his trust. But I couldn’t. I had to take the umbrella back to Savanh.

  I picked it up from where I’d left it, on the office table. It was more to keep the sun off than the rain. The handle was enameled and painted with small birds flying in a pink sky against a canopy of green leaves.

  I ran my fingers along the enamel and frowned. I felt a rush of anger in me. Who was she to demand that her umbrella be returned? She could have waited until her next visit, or asked the driver to come and fetch it, but no, she expected me to walk across the city to take her umbrella. What did it matter that she was pretty, or the daughter of General Chan? She had seen how the bears were kept and how they were treated. How could she take the bile? What made her think she was different?

  I set off across the city with the umbrella, carrying resentment with me all the way. Kham’s father had told me how to find the house. It was on the hill road that rose up from the sprawl of houses, shops, and warehouses that were strung out along the outskirts of the city. The houses here were bigger, grander, set behind tall gates and walls. A breeze lifted up and carried over the great river plain and cooled the people in these houses. There were no potholes. The roads were paved and smooth.

  I stopped at the end house in front of a huge pair of gates. I looked back across the city. A haze of dust hung above the rooftops. I followed the line of the Mekong winding its way north and south. I could see the distant ridge of blue hills, and beyond, the impression of the mountains. I felt as if I could see the whole world. I wondered if that was how the people in these houses felt. Maybe they could see the whole world and not feel trapped within the city.

  I looked down at the umbrella in my hand. It was covered with a fine sheen of city dust. I tried to wipe it with my hands, but my hands were sweaty and smeared the pink cotton. I didn’t care anyway. For all I knew, Savanh might have hundreds of pink umbrellas, a new one for every day.

  I reached up and rang the bell.

  The wire grille next to the bell answered. “Who is calling?”

  I looked around. What should I say? “I am returning an umbrella left at the bear farm.”

  A pause. A buzz and a click. “Push the gate and come to the main house.”

  I pushed the gate and peered through. A wide, paved drive ran up to a house with steps and pillars on either side of the door. A gardener sweeping leaves leaned on his broom to watch me pass. The garden was full of trees and flowers. Flame trees lined the drive, their fingered leaves bright against the blue sky. It would take the dry season to burst their orange flowers into flame.

  I lifted the knocker of the big door and heard the knock echo through a hall beyond. A woman in a silk black skirt and white shirt answered the door.

  “I have this,” I said. “For Savanh.”

  The woman took the umbrella from me and held it by finger and thumb, as if it were a long-dead rat.

  “Savanh left it, at the bear farm.”

  The woman nodded and shut the door. I stood for a few moments, staring at the door, at the metal knocker, a carving of a tiger’s face. Nearly two hours’ walk across the city and not so much as a thank-you. I turned and headed down the steps toward the driveway.

  “Excuse me!”

  I turned. The woman was running down the steps. She lifted her arm to wave to me. “Savanh wishes to thank you herself.”

  I looked beyond her, half expecting to see Savanh in the doorway too.

  “This way, please,” she smiled.

  I followed her around the side of the house along a path lined with bougainvillea. Savanh was sitting at a table, holding the pink umbrella to shade herself from the sun. A pale pink silk was wrapped around her head. She stood up when she saw me and smiled.

  “Thank y
ou, Tam.”

  “It was no trouble,” I lied.

  She reached up to touch the swelling on my eye. “How is it?” she asked.

  “Much better,” I said. Mrs. Sone’s herbs had taken the swelling down.

  I had to look twice at Savanh. She looked different somehow, brighter. Her face was relaxed; the lines of tension had disappeared. The whites of her eyes had lost their tinge of yellow. It was hard to say exactly what was different, but she seemed more real, more alive.

  “Come,” she said, and put her arm out toward a gateway in the trellis of flowers. “Walk with me. Walk with me and see the animals.”

  I walked beside her through the gate and into gardens filled with trees and flowers and cages. There were so many animals: gibbons, tortoises, and cages of colorful birds I’d never seen before. A small, private zoo.

  Savanh stopped by a pen. “This is Lulu,” she said. “She’s a marbled cat. She was brought to my father as a young cub, found with a broken leg in the forest. Father paid for her leg to be mended, but she could not return, so we keep her here.”

  I watched Lulu pace back and forth, the colored swirls and streaks of her patterned coat matching the dapples of sunlight.

  Savanh swept her arm around. “They are all rescued from the forest. Some orphans, some injured.”

  Two spotted doves flew up to the back of the cage, beating their wings against the wire.

  Savanh tilted her umbrella back to look at me. “My father says he helped move your village from the forest.”

  I watched the marbled cat pace along the fence of her pen and flip around to pace back. Did Savanh think we’d all been rescued too?

  We walked in silence until we came to the pen with Jean-Paul. I’d never seen a tiger before. Grandfather had told stories about them, of fire spirits who roamed the forests. I looked through the bars at Jean-Paul. He paced his cage. He was tall and skinny. His skin hung from his hips and shoulders like an oversized coat. His fur was balding, and the color was a dull orange, not the firelight of Grandfather’s stories.

  Savanh pressed her head against the wire mesh and whistled softly. “My father loves his animals,” she said. “They remind him of the forests.”

  Jean-Paul walked toward us, padding on his huge paws. He rubbed his chin and head against the wire mesh. Savanh reached through to scratch him along the length of his back as he passed. “Father used to take me deep into the forests too, to the hills where he grew up as a boy. I walked with him along forest paths in the deep cool dark beneath the trees. I remember once seeing a butterfly dancing in a shaft of sunlight. After walking through the shadows, I thought its colors seemed so bright.” She smiled. “I think I love the forests almost as much as he does.”

  I frowned. “Then why does he want to cut them down?”

  Savanh looked around at me. “What do you mean?”

  I pushed my hands into my pockets. “The logging trucks came to our village.”

  Savanh smiled. “Only to cut a path for the roads for the construction trucks to reach the dam.”

  I looked at her. “Not just the roads. The hills and the valleys. They are stripping out the trees. There will soon be no forest left.”

  Savanh flicked invisible dust from her silk trousers. “You must be wrong. My father would not allow that.”

  I looked at her. “It is happening, Savanh.”

  She straightened her back. “And have you seen this for yourself?”

  “My grandfather has seen this,” I said.

  Savanh glared at me. “Then you cannot know if it is true. My father would not allow the forests to be cleared.”

  I met her gaze. “My grandfather does not lie.”

  Savanh stared at me, then turned, spinning her umbrella as she walked away.

  She stopped at the next cage and waited for me. A mynah bird clawed its way along the wire mesh, pushing its beak through for food. The gold collar of feathers around its neck was bright against the black feathers of its body. One wing looked broken. The tattered feathers hung low at its side.

  “I have a dream,” Savanh said, “that one day I will work on the dam projects with Father too. Our country has rivers and mountains. We have everything we need to make electricity. Clean energy too. Father says Laos will be the powerhouse of Asia. It will bring our country out of poverty. We will have schools and hospitals for everyone.” She turned to me. “Surely you more than anyone have seen this for yourself.”

  I thought of the bare patch of earth for the promised school. I thought of the sickness and of the unwatched TV.

  I said nothing.

  “What dreams do you have, Tam?”

  The question took me by surprise. “I have no dreams,” I said. I watched the mynah bird hop away across the ground, dragging its wing in the dust. Maybe it is only the wealthy who can afford to dream.

  Savanh smiled and touched my arm. “You must want something, surely?”

  “I want Sôok-dìi to be free,” I said, “to feel the earth beneath his paws, to be able to see the moon at night.”

  Savanh sighed. She turned back to Jean-Paul’s cage.

  “My father says he has never seen me so recovered after a treatment. The medicines the Russian doctors gave made my hair fall out, but look now!” She lifted a corner of the silk scarf around her neck. “You see, even my hair is beginning to grow back. My father says your bear is a miracle bear.”

  I looked at the sheen of fine hair at the nape of her neck. “And you,” I said. “Is that what you think too?”

  Savanh sighed and pressed her head against the cage. “I have good days and bad days with my illness.”

  Jean-Paul flumped on his side and stared into me with his gold eyes.

  “I do not have so many good days anymore,” she said, “and when I do, my father holds on to them and doesn’t want to let them go.”

  We stood in silence and watched a butterfly flit through a shaft of sunlight.

  Savanh turned to me and smiled. “But no one can hold on to days, Tam. The only thing we can hold on to is hope.”

  News spread about Sôok-dìi.

  The miracle bear.

  The Golden Bear.

  The bear to cure General Chan’s daughter.

  Three weeks passed, and Sôok-dìi was milked three times. Each time I could not watch. I waited until the end of each milking to scratch his ear and run cool water through his mouth. People came to see him, to buy his bile. They offered ten times the usual price, but the Doctor refused to sell it. He said it was for General Chan’s daughter only.

  The Doctor was happy, though. He charged people to come and see the Golden Bear. Rumor spread that it was lucky just to touch him. People came to buy bile from the other bears. The Doctor arranged a tour guide to come with minibuses full of tourists to see the bears and buy the bile products. Fresh bile, flakes, and powder. They couldn’t get enough. The Doctor even painted the bars of Sôok-dìi’s cage in gold and put his name on the cage.

  SÔOK-DÌI

  GOOD FORTUNE

  It would have been impossible to take Sôok-dìi to the city to dance, because the Doctor came to the bear farm every day. He’d had Asang make space for five more cages. Five more bears would join us soon, and more were planned. The Doctor painted a golden bear on the big red gates. His farm became known as the Farm of the Golden Bear.

  “Mountain Boy!” The Doctor walked along the aisle of bears, his eyes darting to the concrete under the cages. He pointed to fresh mess beneath Mama Bear’s son’s cage. “Clean this filth. It must be spotless here today.” He rubbed his hands together. “We have a very special guest. Dr. Ho is a top Chinese medicine doctor. He is coming with General Chan and his daughter. Dr. Ho wants to examine the Golden Bear and test the bile for himself.”

  I sprayed water from the hose and watched the muck sluice along the concrete to the drain. The bears were restless. Jem and Jep swayed side to side. Biter pressed against the bars, growling. Spit and froth foamed around his lips. But Sôok
-dìi just lay curled up into the smallest ball, as if he wanted to disappear, as if he hoped no one would see him or touch him. He moaned to himself, a low moan, his eyes tightly shut.

  “Sôok-dìi,” I said. “It’s me.” I tried to scratch his ears, but he curled even tighter, tucking his head in to his chest, and would not be tempted with honeyed nuts or fruit.

  Through the open doors I saw two cars slide into the yard. Big, sleek cars with tinted windows.

  I turned off the faucet and coiled the hose, looping it around the metal bracket. The driver of the first car opened the door, and General Chan stepped out first, followed by Savanh and her friend Talin. A short, squat Chinese man stepped out from the second car. The Doctor rushed from his office to greet them, nodding and bowing to them. Savanh stood in the sunlight and opened her umbrella to shade herself from the sun. I watched her twirl it in the sunlight. I watched her laugh and tease her friend.

  Asang passed me and pushed a bucket into my hand. “The Doctor says you are to clean these flasks and tubes,” he said.

  I looked in the bucket. The glass vials and flasks the Doctor used to collect the bile were green and sludged. It had not bothered the Doctor before. He just wanted me out of the way.

  I nodded and took the bucket to the storeroom, a small room with a single faucet and a drain hole into the concrete below. I sat on an old beer crate and gripped the bucket sides with my hands. I could hear the footsteps of the Doctor and of General Chan. I could hear their voices in the bear barn and the clatter of claws on the metal bars. I could hear Sôok-dìi hooting in fear.

  I turned the faucet on full and let the water rush into the buckets, splashing up the sides, a thunder of noise against the metal, a noise to drown out all other sounds.

  I stayed in the storeroom, cleaning the flasks, removing every mark and blemish. I cleaned them again and again until I saw the Doctor and Asang return to push Sôok-dìi back in his cage. They left him splayed on the cage floor, his head and neck bent into the corner. I watched them walk away, back to the office, where the Doctor had laid out a spread of coffee and French cakes for General Chan and Dr. Ho. I felt in my pocket for the almond biscuit I’d sneaked from the plate earlier for Sôok-dìi while no one was looking.