One afternoon, Niko came into the house in tears. He and his siblings had been playing with their cousin Maik Cam and the Juen boys at the Horn’s house. Juen Nu and his wife had four children, including twin boys who were ten months older than Niko, and Lina often brought Cam over to play with his cousins, so there were always small children running around the courtyard and grounds of the Kaul estate, going from house to house, leaving their toys and belongings everywhere.
Niko ran to Wen and complained that the Juen twins had been making fun of him. While Cam, Ru, and Jaya were building with toy blocks, the three older boys had stolen a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a drawer and been playing with them. Juen’s wife saw what they were up to and confiscated the items, admonishing them sternly that they might’ve burned the house to the ground. Niko, sobered by this reprimand, blamed his friends for coming up with the disobedient idea in the first place. Fires could kill people, he reminded them officiously. His own birth mother had died in a house fire; that was why he lived with his aunt and uncle.
The Juen twins laughed at him. “Who told you that?” they asked. His aunt Shae had explained it to him when he was little. Juen Ritto said, mockingly, “Do you really believe that? You’re the Pillar’s son, how can you be such a baby?” Niko balled his fists and demanded angrily to know what they meant, but they ran off.
Wen reassured Niko that his friends were only trying to goad him. That evening, after the children were in bed, she told her husband what had happened.
Hilo was annoyed at the Juen boys for being so tactless, but it wasn’t their fault, nor the fault of their father. They were only kids who overheard what adults said and passed it around without thinking. Besides, he’d known he would have to face this moment eventually. Niko was eight years old, a mature boy for his age, certainly old enough to understand many adult concepts. He was bound to learn the truth sooner or later, and it was important that he get the complete story from Hilo himself and not someone else. Nevertheless, it was not a task Hilo looked forward to.
“I’ll talk to him,” he promised Wen.
Seeing his resigned expression, Wen finished the physiotherapy exercises she was doing in the living room and came over to sit next to him on the sofa. She reached for his hand, and when he didn’t draw away, she tightened her grip and leaned against him. Nine months after that emotional crisis over dinner, they were still unsure around each other, and both of them suffered from days when sadness and resentment outweighed any chance of affection. As Wen regained strength and ability, however, it was getting easier to be relaxed and normal together, to have conversations the way they used to. “No more secrets,” she reminded him.
“No more secrets,” he agreed. So many problems between people, even those who loved each other, came from a lack of communication and honesty.
So on Sixthday morning, Hilo woke his nephew, who he thought of as his oldest son, and said that they were going out to breakfast together, just the two of them. No one else in the family was awake yet. The only people they passed on the way to the garage were the gardeners bringing in dozens of containers of red and yellow peonies, symbolizing marital happiness, for Shae and Woon’s wedding next weekend.
As soon as the ink was dry on Woon’s divorce, Hilo had confronted Woon, and Wen had talked to Shae, and a date was set. Hilo had walked into the hotel room where Shae’s former chief of staff was temporarily living, and said, without preamble, “Woon-jen, I get upset even thinking about the problems my sister’s poor dating record has caused me over the years. You were Lan’s best friend, and now you’re doing a good job as the clan’s Sealgiver, so you’d better not become yet another bad situation. You can either move to the other side of the country—we could use more people in Lukang right now—or you can marry Shae, but decide soon because I’m sick of this drawn-out bullshit. I can’t trust my sister to come to me properly about these things, so if you know your own heart at least, this is your chance.”
Woon’s expression had been extremely apprehensive—one would’ve thought the man expected to be executed—and now it transformed into one of cautious joy. “Kaul-jen,” he said slowly, “may I have your permission to ask Shae-jen—”
“Yes, for fuck’s sake, you have my blessing as Pillar.” Hilo sighed.
He didn’t know how the conversation went between Wen and Shae, but he was glad his wife handled that part, as Shae might refuse what she most wanted for no other reason than to deprive him of the position of having been right. When he asked Wen about it, she smiled confidently and said, “Don’t worry, your sister simply needs to have another woman to talk to about this decision, you’ll see.”