Tash Aw - Map of the Invisible World

We don’t know a thing about corruption either.

What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t understand what you’re saying, young man. Your mummy says you’re so clever and so shy, that’s why we can’t understand you. You barely speak, and when you do, you just talk in riddles, and I ask myself, is it because you’re clever and I’m stupid? Bullshit, of course not. It’s because there’s so much twisted rubbish going on in that handsome little head of yours. Maybe I spoiled the three of you too much. Ya, it’s my fault. Mine and Mummy’s. Nice toys, nice clothes, holidays here, there, everywhere. You guys have no idea of the value of money.

Yes we do. We know you have to earn it in proper ways, not abuse your position and take advantage of other people. Johan got out of his chair and went to the edge of the veranda. There was a low, wide balustrade and he placed his hands on it, leaning over the side to look down at the dark, empty space below. His eyes took a while to get used to the absence of light. And then he saw figures, shadows moving in the dark, silently, as though they were not connected to the ground. They would come together and drift apart again, here and there across the wide expanse of the playing fields. There was no wind in this city and he felt ill. He imagined himself in the car, driving fast with the windows open, and the thought of it made him feel better.

Don’t listen to gossip, Johan.

I don’t. I can make up my own mind. I know what you do. And I don’t care. He continued to gaze at the shadowy figures drifting in the dark. He liked the dark. He wished he were there, in that black space. He had never been afraid of the dark at the orphanage. At night, in that long, bare room with the rows of cots, there had never been any light. Every evening, when day turned suddenly to night, the boys would stop moving because they were scared of what the night might bring. Some of them fell asleep immediately, but others would cry and talk and thrash around until they fell from their beds and hurt themselves. Johan never slept. When the Brothers blew out the candles and the kerosene lamps and the room became cold and empty and silent, Adam would come to Johan’s bed and fall asleep in an instant, just as swiftly as day had succumbed to night. Once, when Adam was still very small, he had a fever and his skin was hot, and then it became cold and clammy. There was no medicine in the orphanage and Johan knew that it was malaria. He knew that children could die of malaria and he did not want Adam to die. The Brothers tried to take Adam away, but Johan clung to him, and in the end a Brother said, Leave them, there’s nothing more we can do, they’re a funny pair, those two. Throughout that night and the night after and the night after, Johan smoothed Adam’s hair and blew on his brow to cool him when he was hot, and held him tightly against him when he was cold. Is this punishment? Adam asked, Is this punishment because I stole that fruit? Am I going to die because I am a bad boy? No, you are not going to die, Johan said. You are a good boy, the best boy in the world, and you are not going to die, you are a good boy. Adam drifted in and out of sleep; he could not control when and how sleep came to him. Late one night his body was so hot that Johan left the bed so that Adam would cool down. He was staring out the window at the blankness of the scrubby fields at night, and Adam called out to him. Johan, he said, are you there? And Johan said, Yes, don’t worry, I won’t leave you. Promise? Yes, I promise. Please don’t ever leave me alone, Johan. I promise, Adam. And this was why Johan never slept, and why he was not afraid of the dark. He could not sleep because Adam slept, and he was not afraid because Adam was afraid.

Frankly, Johan, I’m worried about you. You just don’t have any direction in life at all. No respect for anything. You’re setting a damn bad example for Bob. And you’re a bad influence on Farah. You’re corrupting them both with that twisted stuff going on in your head. If you want to ruin yourself in spite of everything we’ve given you, then go ahead, but don’t drag your brother and sister down with you. It’s bad enough that you’re upsetting your mummy.

There was a sound of breaking glass, something shattering on the cold, hard floor, followed by robust laughter.

Johan thought about his brother and sister. Bob and Farah. They were not his brother and sister; he could not think of them in this way.

He did not care about Bob. But Farah — he did not want to cause problems for her.

You make a lot of trouble for me, Johan. You drive around town at night going to all these bad places, smoking and drinking. What’s more, I hear you’re going around with a girl . A prostitute what’s more. What kind of good Muslim boy does things like that? Don’t forget I have an important position, you know. People see you, people talk: There goes Halim’s son again with that prostitute . You bring shame on the family. I pray to god your mother doesn’t hear these things.

I’m not the only one bringing shame. Anyway, don’t listen to gossip, as you say.

Celaka . You are really too much. No respect at all. Enough nonsense, Johan, I have a proposal. That’s why I wanted to have a drink with you tonight, a drink and a chat, man to man, father to son.

Yes, father to son.

Don’t start that.

Okay, Daddy.

I think you need to be taught how to behave responsibly. You need to snap out of this stupid existence you have. You can’t spend all your life being reckless and inconsiderate. Think about your poor mummy. So I have made plans for you. You’re going to be enrolled at the RMC.

I can’t. It’s too late. You can’t get into military college, you have to do stuff, tests and other things. I know people who’ve been trying for months.

Don’t worry, it’s all settled. Ya, I called my friend — you know, Uncle Zam. He’s just been made a general. Brilliant fellah, went to Cambridge. No problem, he said, he can fix it. I told Uncle Zam, There’s hope for my kid but we really need to be harsh on him, really beat him into shape. He’s a wild kid, I said, but no one’s beyond control. This kind of kid, all they need is a bit of discipline. So you’re going to start in a few weeks, Johan.

Johan stood up. He felt the bitter aftertaste of the drink lingering at the back of his throat, and he felt sick again. This kind of kid? he said.

Aduh . His father sighed. What to do with you, Johan? Maybe it’s my fault, after all. But Uncle Zam said, Don’t worry, military college will straighten him out. Don’t be hard on yourself, Halim, he told me, it’s because of the boy’s genes, no one can help him.

What?

Well, your, let’s say, background. Being honest, it comes down to genes. Everyone knows Indonesians are a wild bunch. They’re not really the same as us. We just have to acknowledge that.

Being honest, you’ve never loved me. You never wanted me in the first place, did you, Daddy?

How can you say that? Who told you that? Did Bob say that? Did he tell you that? I’ll whack that fellah. Bloody big fat mouth.

No. I just know. Only Mummy wanted me. You didn’t want some Indonesian orphan from the street, you wanted your own son, like Bob. I understand.

Why are you so ungrateful, Johan? I can’t believe it, after all that we’ve done for you. Think about what might have happened to you if Mummy and I hadn’t picked you out of that shitty place and brought you over here. You’d still be living in the longkang with the rest of the orphans, no clothes, no books, no home, no future, just like your — I mean, like the others.

Like my brother, you mean.

Johan, no. Stop. We told you a long time ago, as soon as you were old enough to understand. You have to face the truth. Your brother is dead. How many times have we told you that? Nothing can change that. Your life is here, in this place, you mustn’t think of the orphanage. That is long gone. It is another world.