Another story from a prompt. This one was passed around recently by fans of Charles Bukowski. His novel
Post Office
opened with the line
"It began as a mistake."
So here's what came of that. Pretty sure a part two is on the way.
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It began as a mistake.
She met her mother and her aunt in the lobby of the White Lotus hotel. She was late. They had been waiting for her and when they saw her get out of the taxi they stood to leave. They met her just inside the revolving door.
"We're going to dinner on Xin-yi Road. Let's go."
"I already ate."
Her mother became stern.
"But we waited for you. We texted you about dinner."
"I was finishing dinner when you texted me. I'm sorry."
"Bad girl! We're hungry! What if we cannot get seats now?"
"Sorry."
"And what did you eat? Look at you, so bloated!"
"I'm not bloated."
"You have to wear a dress tomorrow. Look at you! Don't you diet?"
Her aunt tried to lighten the mood.
"Come with us anyway. We are talking about your cousin's wedding."
"May I just go to our room? I'm tired."
Her mother pounced.
"Tired from what? It's a weekend! Tired from eating too much?"
"It's Friday, and I worked today. I'm tired. I want a shower. May I go up to the room?"
"Fine! Go."
Her ant laid a gentle hand on her forearm and smiled. Her mother turned and shouted to the hotel clerk.
"Give this bad girl a key! Ba ling ling!"
The mother was not finished. "And we lose your taxi now! You make us have to walk! Very bad girl!" Out on the street she could be seen still berating, with the aunt trying to move her along.
Chloe turned away from the window. The hotel clerk, holding Chloe's key, got her attention. She signed the register and thanked the clerk. In the elevator she reached into her bag and turned off her phone. Her mother could complain later.
On the 8
th
floor she found room 800. The door wouldn't open. She tried it again. She looked at the number on the key tag. Ba-ling-liu. She had heard her mother tell the clerk they were in room 800. Why did she have the key for 806? Maybe her mother made a mistake. She was angry at Chloe, and when angry—especially at Chloe--she often spoke before she thought. The clerk had just taken their keys a few minutes before. The clerk would know.
She thought of going back down to the lobby, but eight floors...
The clerk would know
, she repeated in her head. She walked down the hall to 806. The key worked.
Inside she saw a suitcase belonging to her aunt and felt relief. She kicked off her shoes and set her bag on a table next to the television. The TV was off but the women had left a bathroom light on. It reminded her how much she wanted a shower and how good a shower would feel.
She turned on every massage jet and set the water as hot as she could take it. She sat on the small side seat and let the jets work on her. She nearly slept, leaning against the wall. But she couldn't sleep. Her mother's voice echoed the insults about her body. Was she chubby? She rubbed a hand along her stomach. She was not a thin girl. She looked down at her breasts. "You were so big when I was so young," she thought. "How can these big things be on a small girl?" She thought of Curtis, the on-again off-again boyfriend who was on again now. She missed him. They would not see each other this weekend and weekends were all they had. She missed him now because unlike the Taiwanese boys she dated before, Curt—he preferred Curt--did not ask her to lose weight. He rubbed oil on her and made love to her and bought her tight t-shirts (tit shirts, he called them) and told her every inch of her got him off. She tried to make his voice push away her mother's but she could not and when it was clear she would not relax like she wanted to she turned off all the water.
She dried while looking in the mirror. She liked her body, and she hated the way her mother drove her to so many instances of reaffirming that to herself.
"Fuck her,"
she finally thought to herself. Besides the wonderful massages and encouraging words, Curt had shown her that it was more than okay to tell even your mother to fuck off now and then.
She put it all out of her mind and thought of the wedding. Her cousin Lara was about to marry a man leaving Taiwan soon for a French medical school. Lara had begun learning French and had insisted on French being included on her wedding invitations. When Chloe could not translate the French for her mother, she was scolded for not being as smart or accomplished as Lara, who was five years younger than Chloe.
She wanted to try on the dress again. It was not a bride's dress, and she was glad of that. "Big ladies like you do not find husbands," her mother liked to tell her, and if there were two reasons for her to love her body it was to keep away the dreaded idea of marriage and to keep her mother sore about it. She only wished her mother knew about Curt, and about the rest of her life in this city. It might break them for good, and then they'd no longer have to pretend.
The dress was in the hotel room. Her aunt had brought it north and it must be in that suitcase that was left in the room. Chloe dropped her towel and opened the bathroom door.
On the bed, a man sat with his back to the bathroom. He was watching the television. Chloe saw the pornographic movie, an Asian woman going down on a large white cock, and she gasped.
The man turned to face her and sprang off the bed. He had been masturbating and his erection was pointed at Chloe.
"Uncle!"
"You!"
Chloe slammed the bathroom door shut and pressed against it. No one spoke. The silence was so heavy is could have blocked out the light. The light... she noticed for the first time that the door was not solid but was just a frame around a large pane of opaque glass. She a very visible blur to anyone in the room. Right now that was her aunt's husband.
"Chloe! Come out of there!"
She said nothing and picked up her towel. She wrapped it, knotted it at her breast so tightly that it reddened her skin.
"Chloe! You must come out of there now!"
His voice was louder. She could not tell if it was closer. She touched the doorknob but hesitated.
"Chloe. You have embarrassed me. I am calling your mother!"
She pushed the door open.
"Don't call her!"
The man had no phone. She lowered her face and averted her eyes when she saw that he was still naked below the waist. He was limp now, but naked.
"Look at me!"
She did not move.
"I said look at me now!"
Slowly she raised her head. She made sure to look him only in the eye.
"You have shamed me and our family by embarrassing me this way! Why are you here!"
"This my room, with mama."
"Liar!"
"No! This our room."
"Your room is down the hall! Your auntie and I stay here! Are you a stupid girl, or just a liar?"
She dropped her face away from him again. She had no words for him.
"I said look at me, bad girl!"
She looked again.
This time he did not speak to her. In the silence she saw over his shoulder the movie. The woman was now on top of the man, screaming. The television was muted.
"What are you looking at? Look at me, you terrible girl!"
She stare into his face.
"How did you get into our room?
Her mouth was dry now and she struggled to talk. She licked her lips and swallowed.
"I was given the key by the clerk. I am telling the truth."
"Why this room when your room is down the hall?"
"I don't know."
He looked at her towel. She could see the change in his eyes. She felt her thighs push closer together. Her shoulders turned so she faced the wall as best she could.
"Why are you ashamed, girl? I am the one humiliated."
She said nothing.
"You catch me alone. This is my private room! Look how you shamed me!"
She did not look.
"I said look. I will call your mother now."
She looked but said nothing.
"Do you think it's humorous to catch me being a man?"
"No!"
"Will you tell your auntie and your mother what I do when I am alone?"
"No! Why would I do that?"
She was not prepared for his next question.
"Why did you come out of the bathroom naked?"
"What?"
"I want to know why you came out naked."
She averted her face again.
"I thought I was alone."
"Look at me, Chloe! Stop making me say that!"
She looked up at him again. He looked her over. She thought he lingered at her breasts, tightly constrained by her towel. He looked at her face again.
