Friends and Foes

"Wathone. Get up. Hey, boy. Come on, get up. You sleep like a pig."

"Wha— Who? Oh. Dad. Why are you waking me up?"

My eyes felt heavy. I wanted to fall back into bed.

"Come on. Clean yourself up. We're going to a meeting."

"Oh. What? Now?"

"Yes, now. Come on, hurry up."

"Okay, Dad. Is Mom home? What about the ceremony?"

"The ceremony is this evening, Wathone. Your mother came home last night. She's in the gym room. I'm going to wake your sister. You get ready. Now!"

"Okay, Dad."

My body felt weak, and my feet hurt. I didn't want to shower. It was too early, and too cold. And I wanted to know why my father was in such a rush.

I went into the bathroom. The smell of rot was still in my room. I hadn't gotten rid of it. I think I liked it. It reminded me of Moe. And KoMg. Thinking about those nights made me excited all over again. I wanted to meet them again and do it all over again.

Knock, knock.

"Hey, Wathone! Hurry up!" my father shouted.

I sighed. "Okay!"

I showered in a hurry, got dressed and went downstairs. My mother and my sister were already eating breakfast.

"Wathone. Come here."

"What?"

He was calling me from his room. I had never been inside his room. Now he was inviting me in. I was surprised.

"Dad? What is it?"

I walked slowly to his door, and I stopped.

"Come in. I want to talk to you."

"Okay."

I finally stepped over the threshold. There were animal figures on the shelves, expensive fish swimming in a tank, guns, keys, and the smell of wood everywhere.

"Son, listen." He walked slowly toward me from his desk. "Before we go to the meeting, there are a few things I want you to remember. You'll see a lot of foreigners there. You can ignore them. But don't ignore Mr. Eric and Mr. Lester. They're important. Okay? You hear me?"

"Yes, Father. How will I know it's them?"

"Oh, don't worry, Wathone. It will be obvious." He held up a finger. "And remember. Don't say anything about the statue, or about our family. Not a word about how people live here, either. If they happen to ask."

"Yes, Father." I was looking at the wall behind him. "Why do you have so many guns? They look expensive."

"To protect our home. Our family. Our culture, Wathone. This is our country. I own it. I have to protect it. One day you'll understand. All these lives, the cost of it. I do what I must, and what I need to do. God will forgive me. He will."

"What did you do, Dad?"

"It's for us, Wathone! For us!" He breathed out. "Anyway. I have to tell you something. I'll be going to Mandalay on business for a while. While I'm gone, don't forget the chores you need to do."

"Yes, Father. The statue, and feeding the dog."

"Good. Now we go to the meeting. Take this bread for your stomach. It won't be long."

My father and I went out to the car. My sister and my mother were talking at the table, and my sister looked sad. Well. Not my problem anyway.

"Come on, Wathone, get in. Sit in the back. Let the guards sit in the front."

Today our house was full of cars and soldiers. Black cars. Our car followed the first black car out of the gate. My father sat beside me and made a phone call.

"What? Yeah? Oh, my son, congratulations! I knew you could make it. Here, talk to Wathone."

I thought it must be my brother, Wai Naing.

"Hey."

"Hey. How are you? You know I graduated today? I sent you some expensive outfits from the US. A big package, okay? Because I'm in a good mood. Hahaha."

"Okay. That's nice. What about Brother Ye Naing?"

"Oh, your stupid brother is quite the celebrity over here. He's been all over the news lately, as the son of a dictator. I can't even talk to him. He thinks he's some kind of superhero for speaking ill of us."

"What?" My father snatched at me. "Give me the phone, Wathone."

My father looked stressed and angry. I'd better stay quiet.

"What the fuck is this guy doing? I pay for him to study in the US, and now he talks ill of me, huh? What did he say, son? He's dead!"

"No, Father, he didn't say that much. He just talks about how people are suffering, and the electricity cuts. He's become quite a topic here in the news."

"Gahhh! I'll kill him myself when he comes back! Does your mother know about this?"

"But Dad, I was—"

"I'm calling her now."

He hung up and stabbed at the numbers on his phone.

Why did he care so much about this, if he said he was the most powerful man in the country? Did he even have someone he feared?

"Hey! Thuzar! What the fuck is your son doing in the US? You've been in contact with our sons for a long time, and you didn't say shit to me! I'll kill you when I get home."

"Nanda, I don't know—"

He hung up.

"I can't believe this. My own family. Your mother and your brothers. All of them are fucking stupid. Your brother Ye Naing has been a very bad boy. He'll see."

"Why don't you call him, Father?"

"What? Hmm. Yeah. I think I'll call that fucker!"

He looked really stressed this time. I had seen my father angry before, seen him punch my sister and my mother sometimes, but this was the first time he looked worried.

"Yeah, hello? Hey, you retard, what is this about, huh?"

"Oh, Father, just calm down. I was—"

"You were what, huh? You fucking ungrateful little fuck. I'll block your passport."

"Dad, listen. I'm doing this for us. People love me, Dad. They listen to me."

"You like talking ill of me, huh? You're with them now?"

"No, Father. Don't be so narrow-minded. I'm doing it for my country."

"Oh, really? By next year your passport will be fucking toilet paper."

"Oh, Dad. I'm an American citizen now. Haha. I have an American passport."

"You fucking imbecile, I will—"

The line went dead.

"What? Fuck!" My father threw the phone hard against the seat, swearing. He looked strange.

"Sir, we're here," said one of the guards.

"Wathone. Follow me."

I got out of the car. Nobody was around us. Just the guards and my father.

My father grabbed my arm hard. "Listen, Wathone. You're the only son I still have faith in. You follow me, and you'll be more than a god. When I'm gone, you'll be the one who protects our home. Our country."

"Yes, Father."

"Now come."

We walked into the hotel. The lobby was full of foreigners and media, and the camera flashes bothered me. A guard walked close beside me the whole time.

We stood together in the elevator. It was stressful, after all those flashes.

"Wathone, you're recognized in this country now," my father said. "They know your face. From now on, you go everywhere with security guards. You hear me?"

"Yes, Father."

Oh. But I wanted to be alone. How could I have my own fun with them always around me? I hated the idea. But if he said so.

I looked at the guard beside me. Young. Bored. Easy to send away. And my father was going to Mandalay.

When the elevator door opened, a lady welcomed us and guided us to the conference room.

"Wathone, wait here. I'll be back." He handed me a card. "Oh, and call this number. You can get an update on your church, and the house."

"Okay, Dad."

As my father walked into the room, I took out my phone and called the number.

"Hello, this is Wathone, son of U Nanda. Are the church and the house almost finished?"

"Well, yes, sir, close, but not quite. I think it will take another week, or a month, sir. It depends on the weather."

"I want it finished next week. I'll pay double."

"But sir—"

"Do it. Get more workers. Now!"

I hung up.

"Hey. Are you the son of U Nanda?"

It was the lady who had brought us up.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Ma'am, please step back," the guard said. "For security reasons."

"She's fine," I said. "Why don't you take a break? Go. I'll be fine."

"But, young master—"

"Go on. I won't tell my father."

"Yes, sir."

I waited until the guard had gone. The lady was still waiting to talk to me. She kept looking around.

"What's your name?"

"Maria. Maria Thin, sir."

"I see. Why an English name?"

"Well, sir, I'm Christian."

"Do you go to church often?"

"Why, yes, sir, of course."

"That's great. I'm building a church downtown. You can come and see it if you're free. I'm giving it to a famous pastor here."

"Pastor U Than Paing?"

"Sure. He'll be there at the grand opening."

"Really?"

"I'm personally inviting you. Here, call this number."

"Oh, thank you, sir. I would love to. By the way, are you Christian?"

"No. I'm just an investor."

"Oh, I see. How come you—"

"Don't worry about it. It's personal."

"Sorry. I should get going. I'll call you later, sir."

"Okay. Bye."

She walked away down the hall. I watched her go, then took out my phone and saved her number. Maria Thin. Church.

The guard came back. "Sir, are you all right? Do you need anything?"

"No. I'm good."

While I was talking to the guard, people started coming out of the meeting. I think it was already finished. One foreigner walked toward me from the far end of the hall.

"Oh. And who are you, boy?"

"I'm the son of the general."

"My name is Lester. Lester Churchwell."

"Wathone."

"I see. I've heard a lot about your father. I've never seen you before, though. Decided to follow in your father's line of work? Haha."

"Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Ah, Mr. Lester!" My father came hurrying over. "I reckon you've met my son already. Wathone, this is Mr. Lester. The one I was telling you about."

"Okay, Dad."

"Wathone. Be respectful."

"That's fine, haha," Lester said. "Kids, right?"

"Yes, sir. Haha."

My father seemed shy, and strange, with this man. Was he more powerful than my father? I had never seen my father talk like this. He was laughing too much with Mr. Lester. Almost like he was faking it.

"I've heard about your son," Lester said. "I mean, the other one."

"Ah, yes. The boy is just stressed and talking some craziness. Nothing much. Haha. Young kids nowadays. Always rebellious."

"Well. I hope your family is okay. Haha."

"Sure, sure, sir. Haha."

"Oh, Nanda!" another voice called.

"Oh, haha, Eric! How are you?"

"Haha, things are great. How's your family?"

"Great, great, sir."

Eric turned. "Mr. Lester."

"Mr. Eric."

They both seemed to dislike each other, but they were trying to look like friends.

"I hear you've been praying to the devil lately," Lester said.

"Not praying. A partner. We all need him here. Right, Nanda?"

"Yes, sir," my father said.

"You see, Lester," Eric said, "you always show yourself off like a proud bird. But he's growing, and you know it. And your own house isn't what it used to be. All those big dreams of yours, falling apart one by one."

"None of your concern, Eric. You lean on him too much. Last time, he almost ate you."

My father stayed silent and didn't step in. At home he acted so dominant, but here he stood behind Eric and didn't say a word. And how did they know about the devil?

"You see, Lester," Eric went on, "you're great, don't get me wrong. But after all, you can't stand alone. Someone is going to take your place one day."

"I think it's time we went our separate ways," Lester said. "I have other plans. Nanda. And his little son. Goodbye."

"Sir, it's an honor to meet you," my father said.

"Bye, sir," I said.

As Mr. Lester walked down the hallway, Eric called after him. "You can't hide from the devil, Lester. You know it. I know you pray to it sometimes. We all do."

"Goodbye, Eric," Lester said without turning around. "I'm the one the devil looks up to. He compares himself to me every day. He will suck you all dry."

Well. That was quite an intense conversation between them.

"Nanda," Eric said. "I'll see you soon. I'll sell you our used product again. Goodbye."

"Yes, sir. When will—"

He didn't even let my father finish. He just walked away.

"Wathone. Let's go."

"Father, why don't Lester and Eric like each other? They seemed close, but they don't like each other."

"Well, Wathone, Mr. Eric is powerful, but not as powerful as Lester. Lester is very powerful. But remember. If we ever have to take a side, we take Eric's."

"Why, Father?"

"Eric is our neighbor. We've been doing business for a long time."

"They know about the devil, Father. Do they pray too?"

"Sometimes. They don't need it as much as we do. We need the devil more than they do."

"Why?"

"Because we depend on it. Wathone, our home, our country, needs to make an offering."

"But it doesn't seem fair. Maybe that's why Eric and Lester don't pray to it much, Father."

"Shut it, Wathone. We need it. That's the point!"

"Okay, Dad. But it takes a lot from us, and it only offers us a ring, and power we can't see."

My father sighed. "You see, Wathone. The reason we're still here is because he protects us. Without him, things would be different. You see, Lester, he… well. Never mind. Just focus on praying every week. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

"Come on. Get in the car."

"Okay, Dad. I'm hungry."

"Go on, eat the bread."

As the car drove, I ate the bread and rested my head against the window.

"Wathone, we're home. Go and eat something."

"Okay, Dad. What about you?"

"Later, Wathone. Go now." Then, louder: "Hey, Thuzar! Come here. Get into the room."

"My love, please. I swear I wasn't—"

"Go on. Get inside. Now." He turned to me. "Wathone, you go and eat too. What are you standing there for?"

"Okay, Dad."

My mother was crying, and scared. She walked slowly into my father's room, and the door slammed shut.

I sat at the dining table. My sister was heading to her room. She wasn't talking to me.

"Hey. Change your attitude."

"Okay, brother."

She faked a smile and ran upstairs.

From behind my father's door came my mother's crying, and my father's voice, low and growling. Then the noises. Hitting. Things banging against the walls. My mother crying and begging. I thought it would go on for an hour.

I ate. The rice was good. The maid came in, filled my glass with water without looking at me, and hurried back to the kitchen. I asked for more curry.

I took out my phone and watched the news. It was my brother, on foreign news. He was quite famous now, with comments everywhere supporting him. Talking badly about our family.

I looked out of the window toward the back garden. Through the gaps in the banana leaves I could just see the statue's red eyes.

It seemed closer than before. Closer every day.

He's growing, just like Eric said.

To be continued...