“So did you find out?”
I shook my head. “But I found something else.”
“What?”
“Gon.”
Dora shrugged and shook her head.
“But why do you have to go searching for him?” she asked for the last time.
“Because I’ve realized he is my friend.”
That was my answer.
66
The sea breeze was salty and fishy. The kind of smell that erased the seasons and directions altogether. I sneaked into the farmer’s market as if I was being pushed by the wind. People were in line for a popular sweet-and-sour chicken place.
It turned out Steamed Bun wasn’t great at giving directions. I asked around for the dance shoes store, but it was nowhere to be found. I wandered in the market for a long time before I stumbled into an alley that seemed more like a maze. It was a dizzying tangle and I went wherever my feet took me.
Darkness in winter settled quickly. One moment you noticed it gathering, the next moment everything turned inky black. I heard a strange sound from somewhere. It sounded like a squeak, or a newborn puppy’s cry. Then the sound was layered with a few more voices and laughter. I turned to the sound and saw a half-open entrance to a dark building. It was a shoddy iron gate, swaying in the wind. I heard snickers. Suddenly, a strange chill crept down my spine. I tried to think of a word that would describe the feeling. This was familiar. But I couldn’t think of the word.
Just then, the gate creaked open and a group of kids came rushing out. I quickly hid behind the wall. They looked around my age or a few years older, giggling as they vanished into the night. Again, a familiar feeling crept over me.
There, I caught sight of a high heel lying in front of the door. A fancy shoe covered in gold sparkles. I flipped it over and saw soft leather glued to its sole. It looked like a Latin dance shoe. As if the shoe was showing me where to go, there was a set of stairs leading below. I padded down the stairs in the dark. At the foot of them were piles of boxes and another thick iron gate with a long steel latch. I stood in front of the door. I could open it from my side but the rustiness took me some time. Finally, I managed to remove the latch and opened the door.
There was clutter everywhere. Heaps of junk were littered in the dirty, shabby room. It looked like a secret hideout but I couldn’t guess what was going on inside.
I heard a rustle. Then our eyes met. Gon. He sat hugging his knees on the floor. Small, pitiful Gon, more ragged than he had been, and alone. Déjà vu. That was the term I had been searching for. Family Game coursed through my mind. The shopkeeper’s cry. The younger me, lost. The moment when Mom pulled me into a tight embrace at the police station. Fast-forward, and two women collapsing in front of me . . . I shook my head. Now was not the time to think of those things. Because before me was not the shopkeeper’s dead son, but Gon, who was still alive.
67
Gon glared at me. Of course, I must’ve been the last person he expected to see there.
“What are you doing here? How did you get here, dammit . . .” he barely spat out in a gruff voice. Somehow he had bruises and scratches all over him, his face pale.
“I went to see Steamed Bun. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anybody, including your dad.”
Before I even finished the word “dad,” Gon seized an empty can next to him and chucked it. The can flew through the air, hit the dusty ground, and spun a few times.
“What happened to you? Let’s call the police first,” I said.
“The police? You’re fucking funny. Hunting me down like the fucking fuzz.” Saying that, Gon burst into strange laughter. Unnecessarily loud laughter with one hand on his belly, throwing back his head and howling. He spat words like “You think I’ll thank you for this?” I cut his laughter short.
“Don’t laugh like that. It doesn’t suit you. It doesn’t even sound like laughing.”
“And now you’re telling me how to fucking laugh? I’ll do what I wanna do and be where I wanna be so why don’t you mind your own business, you fucking psycho. Who do you think you are, huh? Who the fuck do you . . .”
Gon’s voice was quieting down. I waited, watching him trembling slightly. His face had changed a lot in just a few days. A black shadow had settled on his now-rough skin. Something had drastically altered him.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
“Fuck that. Don’t act all cool. Get the fuck out of here while you can. Before it’s too late,” Gon growled.
“What are you going to do here? Do you think enduring all this will make you strong? This isn’t strong. It’s just pretending to be.”