Beng Beng Revolution by Lu Huiyi

Author:Lu Huiyi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-981-48-4517-5
Publisher: Epigram Books
Published: 2019-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

“I’ll go out with you tomorrow,” Beng told Father the moment he got home.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything about the factory.

“You own self tell your mother,” he replied.

That, however, was a lot easier said than done.

“They’re just teasing you because you’re new,” said Mother comfortably, when Beng finally found a way to tell her, at night, in broken words, what had happened. Her understated dismissal was a slap in the face. She had no right to be so serene about all this.

“You knew,” Beng said, bitter.

“No, you new,” Mother said.

“You knew they were going to hurt me.”

“Of course,” Mother said. “You new what. Of course they want to hurt you.”

“That’s not the point,” Beng said. He wanted to scream but his throat felt like sandpaper. “You don’t care. Never mind.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” said Mother. “Never mind. They know you can do it now. Next time, they’ll send someone else.”

“Yes, they will, because I’m not going back.”

“What?” said Mother.

Beng looked up at her—tried to stand his ground—he tried to exude the kind of aggression and certainty that might have saved him from the lunchtime ordeal, but that kind of compelling presence seemed to be a talent unique to tattooed little aunties with a penchant for burning hapless newbies to death.

He met her eyes, and then faltered. Mother was looking at him in a strange angry-sad way. It was strange because it seemed as though if she could be truly sad, then she wouldn’t be quite so angry. And if she had been properly, thoroughly angry, then there wouldn’t have been a place for bitterness to ferment.

“Don’t be like that,” Beng said feebly, as the silence stretched on. He felt almost like he was losing, but he didn’t know why.

At that, Mother snapped, so suddenly and absolutely that it was almost visible.

“I went through this before also, okay?” she said, now affronted and raising her voice. “You think I don’t know?”

Father, who had hitherto been sprawling in silence on their broken-down excuse for a couch, exerted himself enough to prop himself up into a half-sitting position. Once he’d gotten everyone’s attention, he broke out into disgruntled grousing.

“Hello. You think I can sleep when you all shouting, shouting the whole evening? Cannot quiet is it?”

Mother laughed. It was a mocking and ugly laugh.

“Sleep for what?” she snapped. “You don’t even do anything.”

Father bristled right on cue. They would be going at it half the night now. Beng used to worry that the neighbours would look at them funny the day after the worst of their squabbles, but it seemed like most of the slum families fought all the time, so it was okay.

Grandfather shuffled past his quarrelling son and daughter-in-law and to his bedroll, as though they were invisible. Beng thought such selective vision was a talent that he ought to start honing more, because these ugly fights over nothing were happening more and more frequently than he could deal with. Beng looked at his arms, which he’d scrubbed red raw to get rid of all the soot.

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