Then the tape spins rewind and time is flat.
Play.
I leave the room to the distant strains of frozen time. The kitchen is downstairs, at the end
of a corridor with lights permanently turned low to save energy. I can’t afford an expensive
electricity bill. Through the first and second doors are Dad’s study and my parents’ bedroom, shut
and tightly locked. Their keys are long gone and their handles are blanketed with dust. I walk past
without looking at them. The third is the living room, opposite to the kitchen, and I do not look
into it either.
There was once a gas range in the kitchen, but gas got too expensive for me and I’d thrown
it away some months ago. In its place is a tiny electric stove, good for saving money and not so
good for cooking. But I don’t cook much anyway. There is a lid on the garbage bin, but it cannot
hide the riotous packing of cup noodle containers within, threatening to burst out.
I was looking for something hot to eat. Peel back cover, pour in water. Wait. Three minutes
stretch into an eternity of pauses and faces turned aside. At last it is ready and I carry it back out
into the living room. There is a blanket on the couch, creased with overuse. Dad’s. The cassette
player is silent except for the occasional squeak as the tape struggles back to the beginning. I curl
up on the couch and wrap the unwashed blanket around myself.
It’s a duvet thickly padded with feather-down, but the cold cuts deep all the same.
What’re you doing with your phone here? They’re not allowed in the laboratory!
I’m just calling my parents to give them the news. It won’t take long!
Well… Alright. You deserve it.
Thanks—Hi Mum! Could you turn on the loudspeaker so Dad can hear? Hi Dad!
…
Sorry I didn’t call more often. It’s been really busy over here. But guess what? I’m going to
get promoted!
…
Senior researcher, but everyone just calls it professor.
…
No, don’t say that, Mum. There’s no such thing as natural genius. I didn’t do any of the hard
work. You did. You raised me all these years without complaining or giving up. It’s all thanks to
you two that I’m who I am today.
…
I can’t tell you what I’m going to research. There’s a confidentiality clause in the laboratory
contract. It’s about the weather here in the Gobi desert, that’s all I can say.
…
Don’t worry, Dad. It’s not a meaningless investigation they stuck me in so that they could
forget about me. That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? This is serious research!
…
* * *
* * *
