Flooded Heart

Halfway home, the rain came out of nowhere. One moment the road was dry, and the next it was gone, swallowed by water so heavy the wipers couldn't keep up. Everything outside turned black and silver. I couldn't see the car in front of me, so I pulled over and turned off the engine and sat there, listening to it hammer on the roof.

I thought about Moe. I wondered if she had enjoyed what I did to her. Maybe that was why it was raining like this. Maybe it was her.

I waited a few minutes for it to ease, then started the car again.

My phone rang. It was my mother.

That was strange. She never calls me when I go out. Never. Why now? Was she angry that I had missed dinner? It didn't matter. I was almost home. I let it ring.

I parked in the garage, next to my new car, and went inside. The rain was easing, but it was still heavy, loud against the windows.

I was on my way to the stairs when I heard my mother crying.

She was sitting in the living room with my father beside her. I stopped. For a second I was confused, and then I thought I understood. She had caught him cheating again. That had to be it.

I walked over to them.

"Mom, what happened?"

She looked up at me with red eyes. "Wathone. Tell me where you went that night."

"Why, Mom? What happened?"

My father wouldn't look at me.

"Wathone, don't lie to me. You can tell us."

"Mom, I really don't know what you mean."

"You were caught on CCTV." Her voice cracked. "I know that shirt. I bought you that shirt, Wathone." She was shaking. "I want to slap you. You are a waste of life on this earth."

Everything inside me went cold.

"Wathone, say something, you little piece of shit," my father said. "The police will be here soon."

My mother covered her face with her hands. "I called them," she whispered. "I had to. Before the whole country finds out it was you."

I stared at her. My own mother.

I looked at him.

"Dad," I said. "She liked it."

"Oh my God." He stood up. "So you did do it, huh?"

He was cursing at me, but his voice blurred and faded until it was just noise behind my thoughts. I couldn't say a word. All I could think was that I hoped they didn't know the girl was dead now. Not yet.

Then someone knocked on the front door. Not knocked. Banged.

"Is Wathone at this house?" a man shouted. "Please come outside!"

He shouted it three times. Poepoe started barking, loud and wild. My parents went to open the door, and I stood behind them. When I looked back, my sister was halfway down the stairs in her pajamas, watching everything.

Outside, under the dripping roof, there was a whole group of them: police officers, men from the ward office, and the ward administrator himself, all standing in front of our gate.

"Excuse me, sir. You are Wathone's father?" one of the officers asked, holding his cap in his hands.

"Yes, I am." My father straightened. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Yes, sir. Of course I know who you are." He lowered his eyes and chose his words slowly. "I'm very sorry to disturb you at this hour. But there is a serious complaint against your son. And tonight, his car was seen parked near the victim's apartment in Sanchaung, from before the fire started." He paused. "Many people are already watching this case. I have no choice but to take him in tonight. If you could kindly come to the station tomorrow, sir, I'm sure we can—"

"That's enough," my father said. "I'll come tomorrow. Wait. What's your name, officer?"

"My name is U Zaw Min Htet. I'm the head officer at the police station in this township. I will take care of your son personally, sir."

My father nodded. He was very calm.

Behind me, my mother made a small, broken sound. Now they knew.

They cuffed me and walked me out to the car. This time there was no way around it. Not even a dog could have slipped out of that.

The cuffs bit into my wrists the whole way to the station. They threw me into a cell with rapists and thieves, and the smell of them made me want to throw up. I had no idea what to do. I sat in the corner with my back against the wall and counted the cracks in the ceiling. The men in there kept looking at me strangely. It didn't matter. My life was over. In the end I decided to sleep.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of sweat and piss and wet concrete. I couldn't complain.

As soon as I stood up, an officer grabbed my arm and took me down a corridor to the head officer's room. When the door opened, I saw my father and U Zaw Min Htet sitting together, laughing and smiling like old friends.

"Wathone, sit down," the head officer said. "I apologize for last night. We made a mistake about you. Here, have some tea. It's from Shan State. It will calm you down after what you went through."

"Wathone," my father said. "I want to slap you across the face right now. But save your strength for court tomorrow. Your mother is waiting outside. Finish your tea and go to her car."

I nodded. The smell of the tea really did calm me.

"So, U Nanda," the head officer said, leaning back. "What were we talking about?"

"I'll pay you double for the one you found."

"Of course, of course, U Nanda. Don't worry. Leave it in my hands."

"Wathone, go now. Your mother is waiting."

I didn't understand what they were talking about. I was just happy I wouldn't have to sleep with those bastards again. I had learned my lesson. I wouldn't make the same mistake again.

I walked out past the officers, the desks and the cells. My mother was outside with my sister, and I hurried over to them.

"Wathone, don't talk to me."

"Okay, Mom. I'm sorry."

"Get in the car. Then talk to me."

"Okay."

I opened the car door, and the smell of lime spray hit me, clean and cool. I sank into the soft back seat, and for a moment I almost felt like a privileged person again.

My mother was in the front seat. She turned around.

"Wathone. That girl and her mother died last night. Did you do something?"

"No, Mom. I was driving. The rain was too heavy, so I pulled over and waited."

She looked at me for a long time without saying anything.

"I'm disappointed in you. Next week I'm sending you to the monastery. You're stupid, Wathone. You seem smart, but you're stupid."

She reached back over the seat and hit me on the head. At the same moment, the door opened and my father got in beside me.

"Okay. Let's go home." Then, without looking at me: "Oh, Wathone. We'll talk when we get home."

"Okay, Dad."

Nobody said a word the whole way home. My father looked furious, and my mother looked like she wanted to hit me again. I didn't complain.

When we walked into the dining room, my mother stopped.

"Nanda, I'm going upstairs with my daughter."

"Okay," my father said.

She took my sister up the stairs without looking at me. My father waited until they were gone.

"Wathone. You know what you did, right?"

I didn't answer.

"Now you have to go to court tomorrow, as a witness. Nothing else. You'll do exactly what I say."

"Yes, Father."

He put a folded sheet of paper on the table in front of me. "Don't say a word in there. Let your lawyer do the talking. Tomorrow morning, before anything else, you read this, and you say exactly what's written here. Nothing more."

"Okay, Dad." I picked up the paper and unfolded it a little. It was typed and neat, with my name at the top and a story I had never heard before. I almost laughed. My whole life, someone else has always written my answers.

"Where's my phone? I had it last night."

"Living room."

His voice was cold and hostile.

My phone was on the coffee table. I sank into the sofa and turned it on. Missed calls from my friends, and a long list of messages. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I was tired.

I opened the news instead. I wanted to know what they were saying.

"Last night, the young woman in her early twenties who was attacked in a nightclub restroom two nights ago was found dead together with her mother after a fire broke out in their apartment in Sanchaung. Police say both victims had been brutally murdered before the fire was set, in what they describe as a gruesome crime scene. Police are still investigating. The suspect has been identified as Kyaw Kyaw Aung, a 32-year-old man from the countryside near Pathein, who is believed to have followed the victim home in an attempt to silence her about the earlier attack at the club."

"Oh," I said out loud.

I was surprised. Then I was relieved. My father had bought a man from the countryside and put him in my place.

I tapped the tip of my nose.

"The suspect told police he had come to Yangon looking for work. He did not appear to understand what he was being accused of."

I smiled wide and scrolled down to the comments. People were cursing him in every way they could think of. I'll tell you something about people here. They don't think. They believe whatever they hear and whatever they see.

My phone rang. It was Thura.

"Yo, Wathone! I heard you got wrongly accused last night. Sorry about that, man. I couldn't reach you. You down to go out with us again? We've been waiting for you."

"Okay. Let's go to the club again."

"Oh, yeah! I'll tell the others. Bye for now."

"Okay. Bye."

I put the phone down. Court tomorrow. The monastery next week. It didn't matter. There has always been a way out of this house at night.

I was bored again. I closed my eyes and went back to Moe and her mother, every moment of it, slowly, and the thrill came back, warm and heavy, as if it had never left.

"Wathone!"

I hadn't heard my mother come down.

"Don't you dare go out next week. You're going to the temple, and you're going to become a monk. We're holding the ceremony with a very famous sayadaw. I'm sure he can teach you properly." She folded her arms. "You'll get better under the Buddha's teachings. I'm sure of it."

I looked at her sideways.

"Okay, Mom. I'll be there."

Then my sister came down the stairs, dressed to go out. She stopped on the bottom step and stayed there, farther from me than she usually would.

"Wathone, how are you feeling?"

"Good. Are you going out?"

"Yes. I'm going out with my friend, and then to her house." She smiled, too quickly, without meeting my eyes. "I'll invite you next time."

That made me curious. I watched her turn her back on me and walk out the front door. Poepoe followed her outside, barking.

I went back upstairs and wasted the afternoon on games and movies. Later, I came down for dinner.

My father didn't look up from his plate. "Wathone. What do you know about the mother and daughter who were murdered in their home?"

He asked it blankly, between mouthfuls.

"Dad, I think someone robbed them and did that."

My mother kept her eyes on her plate. She hadn't looked at me once since we sat down.

"Nanda, don't worry," she said. "I'm sending him to a monk who can teach him manners and discipline."

"Yes," my father said. "My son will be better again after a month as a monk. It will clean his mind and his soul."

"I guess so."

"Eat up, Wathone."

I looked at the empty chair across the table. "Where's my sister? Isn't she home?"

"She's sleeping at her friend's house," my mother said. "Don't worry yourself."

We kept talking for a while about nothing. When I was full, I went upstairs and lay down in the dark. I couldn't wait for tomorrow. I was excited for new things.

To be continued...