Page 84 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

“Didn’t you understand my story? What you mean is certainly not what I

mean! God, why have I kept talking with you all along? How could you ever
understand me? Impossible!”
Ayuan felt apologetic and embarrassed. She was right: he didn’t understand
anything about her. This was partly because he hadn’t yet been in love, but also
because his experiences were only shallow. He tried his best, but he couldn’t
share the emotions this girl beside him felt.
They fell silent for a while, and then the bride couldn’t help herself: she
began talking again.
“The more you struggle to get untangled from those weeds, the more tightly
they wind around you. While I was underwater, I even heard him laughing! Coo
coo, coo coo—a really bizarre laugh. And his face . . .”
“Yet you did struggle free.” Ayuan’s voice deepened.
“I did, but how could I kick him away? I’ll never forget the scene down there.
I’ll go upstairs first. You wait here and don’t move. I’ll call you.”
Her blurry figure left him. Ayuan remembered the black bear and thought, It
must be a circus bear.

Now, except for one sound, everything was quiet. The gurgling sound of
bubbles rose from the pool. From the beginning, Ayuan had noticed this sound,
but there was no pool outside the building, and so the sound was absurd. Could
the sound be coming down from upstairs? the sound of bubbles in the swamp? It
wasn’t at all like that. The sound definitely came from outside the building.
Ayuan waited a long time, his legs aching from standing, but the bride didn’t
call him. The photographer did come, however. His feet thumping, he flew down
the stairs and arrived quickly at Ayuan’s side. His breath smelled bad as he
approached Ayuan and started talking. He touched Ayuan’s head with one hand.
“I thought so, it’s you. You’re still here. Generally, we don’t let people spend
the night here. You played a little trick in order to stay here, didn’t you? Do you
want to learn the secrets of our trade? You’re too ambitious!”
“Right now, I just want to go home,” Ayuan said in disgust.

“You’re free to go. No one’s stopping you!”
“I can’t get out. Where’s the door?”
“It’s right behind you. Give the door a push. Harder! That’s it!”
The photographer pushed Ayuan out from the wall.
He stood in a small alley in the old part of the city. The houses on both sides
of the alley were shut. Once more, he heard bubbles gurgling and rising from the
pool—this time, more frequently than before. He started running, thinking that
he had to run out of this alley before he would reach a familiar road.
“Ayuan—Ayuan!!”
Ayuan turned around and looked: the bright red satin gown was gleaming
under the streetlight. The face of that ghostlike woman was whiter than plaster.