Tash Aw - Map of the Invisible World

“He thought it would go away, but I guess it didn’t.”

“You don’t think he would ever abandon me, do you?” he asked without looking up at her.

“Of course not. It’s been many years since I’ve known him, but from what I remember of him, he isn’t the type who would just get up and leave when the going gets tough. Believe me, I should know.”

“Mm.” He did not sound convinced. All his childlike hope and energy had drained away, and now he seemed tiny and weak. She wanted to reach out to him, but this time she hesitated.

“I often wondered,” Adam continued, “why my father never married. I asked him once if he had ever loved anyone. He nodded and said, ‘But it was difficult. The world was a different place when I was a young man. There were other things to think about.’ I didn’t know what he meant, but I remembered it clearly because he seemed so sad when he said it. I knew not to ask him again.”

“That sounds awful.”

“I used to imagine that you were his wife and that we would one day settle down together, as a family.” He looked up at her and smiled, and suddenly he did not look so fragile. “Crazy idea, isn’t it?”

She laughed with him. “Very.”

“Did you love each other?”

The question was delivered calmly but swiftly, and Margaret had not anticipated it. Caught off guard, she could only smile vacantly at him. It was, in fact, a question she had asked herself hundreds of times over the course of her life. She was still not sure of the answer.

“Wait, don’t starve, weary travelers — salvation is at hand!” Mick appeared from the kitchen bearing a tray of food. Margaret watched as Adam ate and it made her feel unaccountably happy to see him being nourished. His last question still echoed loudly in her head, bringing back the memories of a hundred minor incidents that might have determined the answer: Yes, they had loved each other; or, no, only one of them had loved the other; or, it was never so easy. Karl had been right: There had been more pressing things to think of in the world than love.

Evening brought with it a languid rain shower, drumming a monotone on the roof. Adam looked more at ease now that he had eaten; he was smiling again and asking Margaret questions about the United States and Europe.

“I think you should go to bed now,” she said when it was very late. She insisted that he take her bedroom and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She would sit and chat with Mick for a while. She didn’t mind the sofa. She checked on him after half an hour, and again after an hour, anxious that he should sleep as soundly as possible. She pulled the curtains shut to keep out the droplets of rain that were blowing in through the windows; Adam had kicked the thin sheet away from his body, and she drew it back up to his chest, moving it as gently as possible so as not to wake him up.

“It’s weird, seeing you like this.” Mick chuckled gently.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know — nervous, as if you’re not quite sure what you’re doing. I’ve never known you to be anything but in control. I’ve never seen you — hmm, how shall I put this? — so tender.”

“You mean I’m a cruel, heartless witch?”

“No, no, just … I don’t know, it’s funny.”

“I am nervous. We still haven’t heard any news from Bill Schneider. I don’t know if we can trust him — and besides, I’m not sure just how much he can do.”

“You Americans still have plenty of connections in this country, despite official relations. Let’s wait and see.”

“We can’t afford to wait, Mick. This boy’s future is at stake. I can’t bear the thought of him homeless, without the only family he’s ever known.” She stood at the window and watched the rain wash thin rivulets of mud across the narrow street. The dead leaves in the front yard made a crackling noise as the raindrops hit, but otherwise all the usual noises of the neighborhood had ceased: the barking of dogs, the howling of copulating cats, the scooters, the radios, the angry shouting of young men, the crying of babies. All that stopped when the rains came. It was late now; the immense city was settling down to its brief sleep.

But Margaret was not sleepy. She could not stop thinking about the question that Adam had put to her, the one she could not answer: Had she loved and been loved in return?

T onight something strange is happening to Adam — or more precisely, something strange is happening to his dreams.

As he felt the first warm waves of drowsiness wash through his head, he had become aware of something out of the ordinary, something that did not usually accompany his sleep. It was a smell — sweet, complex, and faintly milky: Margaret’s room. Turning his head so that his nose rested against the pillow — her pillow — he’d inhaled deeply. This perfume was not very strong; it seemed to hover over the bedclothes, evaporating if he breathed in too much of it too quickly. If he tried to fix it in his senses it would disappear, but, sooner or later, it would return to him. It was a smell that seemed to have existed long before him, that was everything and everywhere, cocooning and protecting, at once a lullaby and a stimulant.

And on this night, because of this perfume, or because of some other unfathomable reason, his dreams are clearer and sharper; and in fact they do not even seem like dreams.

These are memories. Adam knows this even though he is asleep. These are memories of his Past Life.

Tonight, images come to him as they sometimes do, but they do not dissolve into that terrible emptiness or flicker faintly on the edge of his sleep. They seem instead to drift like bits of flotsam that cling together to form a raft of recollections.

He is in a room, a small, square room with a concrete floor that looks smooth, almost shiny, yet he cannot feel this smoothness; his feet feel leaden and clumpy. This is why: He is wearing shoes. He does not normally wear shoes. He looks down at his feet and sees a pair of canvas sneakers, frayed at the toes where they have been scrubbed clean with a coarse brush. The rubber soles squeak as he swings his legs. This is a sustained image, but will it lead to anything else?

Yes. There are other people in the room — three, to be exact. One of them is a man who is wearing a white shirt with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There are fine golden hairs on his forearms, glinting in the light. His hair is the color of sand, and his voice is not like that of the others. This is Karl. Karl is talking to another man, or, more precisely, he is listening while the other man speaks. This other man’s voice is calm and lilting, like the first tentative notes of a song. He is trying to persuade Karl of something. Adam understands that there is a problem. Something is not right. He understands that Karl is to take him away, but the man is saying something that Adam can’t understand. He can only hear the voice, cajoling, urging, and suddenly he begins to feel afraid.

Through the open window he can see the silvery green leaves of a lone coconut tree, spindly and tall, jutting out from the scrubby bush. It is the only thing of color in a landscape bleached by the drought. Yes, there is a drought. It is hot. Adam begins to feel tired, as if he is fainting, fainting into a deep sleep.

* * *

Johan . Wake up, darling. Are you okay? You sleep too much, baby. You’ve been in bed all day — look, it’s nearly dark. Daddy will be angry if he sees you asleep again. You know what a temper he has. Look what Mummy’s bought you, some of your favorite kuih lapis. Adoi , why so sleepy all the time? Poor darling boy, look at you. Come on, sayang , don’t spend your life in bed. Such a waste. Hmm? Don’t mumble. Here, drink your Milo. Mummy put extra milk in for you so your skin will be even nicer. When I first saw you I said to myself, aiyoh , this boy’s skin is so smooth. You were so beautiful even as a small child. All the others were very ugly, all dark and skinny. What? Why jeling mata like that? Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight, just you and me? Farah and Bob can stay and do their homework. Come on, let Mummy take you out for a treat. I want to. Daddy’s at the club with his friends this evening. We’ll go somewhere really nice, okay?