The Good Enemy

Chapter Nine

CROSSING LINES

For over fifteen minutes, I have paced back and forth in front of Hathai's bedroom, contemplating whether to knock.

The ride back home after the hike yesterday was quiet and solemn. We were exhausted from all the hiking but that was not the reason we both felt wiped. Hathai retired to her room once we arrived and has remained there.

For most of her childhood, Hathai has been left to handle her emotions alone in moments of emotional crisis. Sharing that moment with me yesterday must have left her feeling vulnerable, or even guilty. Hathai reminds me of myself when I was her age, isolating to not be a bother. I know the implications of self-isolation as a child, and I'd hate for that to be her future. I tried checking in on her a few times but decided to leave her alone for the rest of the day. But today is Sunday, she loves Sundays.

Hathai throws her door open.

"Phi! Stop hovering, your footsteps are disturbing my meditation."

I sigh. "Hathai, I am seriously concerned."

"Why?"

"Listen, it's not just you anymore; I am hired labor, but that doesn't mean I am not deeply worried and concerned about your well-being. It hurts to see you hurt and I want to help—let me. You don't have to do it alone, it doesn't work that way anymore, ok?"

"Ok... Whatever." She shrugs.

"I'm serious, Nong. No more."

She looks away and swallows. "Ok, Phi. I promise."

"Very well. Hurry up with your meditation, let's have breakfast." I turn to leave.

"Together?"

"Yes."

"At the dining table?"

"Yes Hathai, dining table and all. I'll be waiting in the kitchen." I walk away.

***

I hear Hathai running down the hallway, slowing down her steps as she draws closer to the kitchen. With a smile, I shake my head.

"I'm here." She stands by the door.

"Come sit."

She walks over and takes a seat at the mini kitchen dining, her eyes wide and filled with excitement even though she is trying so hard to hide it. I place a bowl of oatmeal with a smiley face made from cherries and blueberries in front of her.

"Smilies? I'm not a child."

"That's literally what you are."

"I turn thirteen in a few months."

"Hathai, attending high school and loving classical music doesn't make you an adult. Eat."

She's hesitant but digs in.

"Do you believe in life after death?" she asks out of nowhere.

"That is not a traditional breakfast topic, but yes. There's just too much going on with life for it to just end here. Besides, aren't we Buddhist?"

"When was the last time you made merit?" She raises a brow at me.

I sigh, her question pricking my guilty conscience.

"Let's not go there."

"You should make merit. I think it's important to have something consistent in your life even when your faith is wavering."