Page 92 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

“Do opportunities come at night?”
“Don’t ask. You shouldn’t ask about this.”
Ayuan stopped talking. He was uneasy and sleepy. He didn’t sleep well.
Every five minutes he awakened in alarm. Each time, he heard the people in the
other two beds planning something in low voices. He heard them mention “iron
cage,” “dungeon,” “torture instrument,” and so forth—dark and ruthless things.
As he was on the verge of figuring out what they meant, he dozed off again. And
so he never figured out exactly what they were talking about.

At midnight, Ayuan sensed that his feet and neck had been tied to the posts at
either end of the iron bed. Probably the other two men had left. When he tried to
move a little, the coarse rope tightened. He realized he had to lie still in order to
alleviate the pain. Just then he heard the sound of bubbles that he hadn’t heard
for quite a while, and he calmed down at once. A hand at the door was holding a
wavering candle, but then quickly retreated. A woman’s voice said, “What an
adorable guy.”
The sound of bubbles was rising from underneath the bed; it was as if his
entire person were submerged in water, gurgling and gurgling. He had waited a
long time: wasn’t it this that he’d been waiting for? In this city that was so dry
that cracks opened up everywhere, what a lucky man he was! His insteps tickled,
but he forced himself not to move, for he didn’t want to interrupt this great
moment of feeling so lucky. The woman spoke again, “Now he can die without

regrets.”
Ayuan recognized her voice: she was a former neighbor. She was an assistant
at a vegetable stand, where she didn’t talk and never even made eye contact with
customers when she sold vegetables. What had made her so talkative now?
Every time Ayuan was about to fall asleep, he was awakened again by her.
“Is this the swamp or is it a dungeon?” Ayuan asked angrily.
The woman didn’t respond. Maybe she had slipped away.
But the sound of bubbles had also stopped, and Ayuan’s feet and neck were
now free. He got out of bed, walked to the window, and looked out at the dim
backyard of the hotel. Two old-style waterwheels had been set up in the middle
of the yard. Two dark figures were bent over, operating the waterwheels. Their
actions made no sound.
Ayuan shouted, “I’m coming to help you!” Then he jumped down from the
window. He didn’t land in the backyard, but in a hole. Although he wasn’t
injured, the fall was painful. Someone said, “He hasn’t paid for his room yet.
This kind of jerk is shameless. And his body is so dry that even the crocodiles

would show no interest in him. Isn’t there better stuff than this in the city?”
This frightened Ayuan. As he climbed out of the hole, he said, “I came to
help with the waterwheels . . .”