The Lotus Flower Champion by Pintip Dunn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Pintip Dunn
- Language: English
- Genre: Folklore
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The penny arcs out, out, out…and then vanishes into the inky black
waves that crash and unfurl against the coarse strip of beach. The Gulf of
Thailand might be bigger, more dramatic, than any wishing well. But it
swallows my desperate hope just as thoroughly. Just as uselessly.
I march across the wet sand, in my white canvas sneakers, trying to
convince myself not to count my steps. Taking my shoes off is out of the
question. My bare feet haven’t touched any kind of ground in four years.
It’s okay. It will be okay. It has to be okay.
If I tell myself enough times, maybe I’ll actually believe it. Even though
my long-time therapist has failed to convince me otherwise. Even if the
hollow in my chest proves that there are some things that will never be
okay, no matter how much effort we pour into “living for the moment” or
“creating lasting memories.”
I leave the beach and trudge up the steps to our private villa, pausing to
wash my feet in a basin of water. I laboriously dry every inch of my feet
and then trade in my sneakers for a pair of satiny house slippers. When I
walk inside, Mama’s sitting on the white-and-green striped couch.
“Ah, so Alaia lives!” she sings out. “I was beginning to think you were
trying to steal my thunder, young lady. Not fair, when I had to suffer three
rounds of chemo to get this close to dying.”
“That’s not funny, Mama.” And it’s not. But I’m just as guilty as Papa,
just as guilty as the grief counselors, because I force my lips up anyway.
This is Mama’s last trip. Her final wish. A vacation with her family in
Koh Samui, where she was born, while she’s still healthy enough to enjoy
And damn it, she will enjoy it. If it’s the last thing I do, I will make
Mama smile 121 times on this trip.
Her face catches the glow of the recessed lights. Her skin is still smooth,
with only a few lines around her tapered eyes to reveal her age. With only a
pallor to her light brown skin that betrays her illness. A Thai silk scarf is
tied around her head. After her surgery, Papa bought a dozen scarves from
her favorite silk house, each one brighter and more cheerful than the last.
It’s as though he can keep Mama alive by the brilliance of those colors
Mama flicks the peacock-feather ends out of her face as I sit down on
the other end of the couch. “Maybe I don’t want to be wise and appropriate
all the time. Did you ever think of that?”
My heart twinges. Already, our family, neighbors, and friends talk about
Mama in the hallowed tones of the dead. Celebrating every award she’s
ever won, tallying the patients she’s saved. Putting her on a pedestal on
which only the deceased can balance.
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