The Rice Mother Read Free Page B

mouth.
    Fear coursed through my child’s body at the thought of that man as my husband. My silly romantic dream desperately gasped its last breath, and I was suddenly very small, alone, and tearful. From that moment on, love for me became the worm in an apple. Whenever my seeking mouth meets its soft body, I destroy it, and it in turn disgusts me. Panic-stricken, I searched through the blur of watching faces for the one person who could make it better again.
    Our eyes met. My mother smiled at me happily, her eyes shining proudly in her poor face. I could never disappoint her. She had wanted this for me. In the face of our abject poverty his wealth had blinded her to everything else. My feet took me ever closer. I refused to hang my head like other shy brides. I stared hard at my new husband-to-be with a mixture of fear and boldness.
    I must have been but one-third his size.
    He looked up. He had small black eyes. I caught the small black beads in my bold gaze. In them I found an irritating expression of proud possession. I stared unblinking at him. Show no fear, I thought, my stomach in angry knots. I locked him into my favorite game of who could outstare whom. The sound of drums and trumpets faded away, and the watching people became a blur, gray, as my eyes blazed ceaselessly into his. Suddenly I felt a shift in my new husband’s eyes. Surprise swallowed proud possession. He dropped his eyes. How strange. I had defeated the ugly beast. He was the prey, and I the hunter, after all. I had tamed the wild beast with a look. I felt my unexpected triumph rush through my body like a fever.
    I looked again at my mother. She was still smiling that same proud, encouraging smile that she had smiled before, before my momentous victory. For her the moment had never been. Only my new husband and I had sensed it. I smiled back at her and, raising my hand slightly, let my middle finger tap my thumb three times, our secret signal, “Everything is grand.” As I reached the decorated dais, my legs folded beneath me on a bed of flowers. Beside me I could feel waves of unfamiliar heat emanating from the body of the beast, but there was nothing to fear. It was tame. It didn’t turn its head to look at me. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. He never sought the fierce blaze in my eyes again. And I, I spent the entire ceremony diving tirelessly again and again from the highest rock into the cool waterfall behind Ramesh’s house.
    That night I lay very quietly in the dark as he pushed aside my clothes and mounted me clumsily, muffling my cry of pain in his large hand. I remember his hand smelled of cow’s milk.
    “Shhh . . . it only hurts the first time,” he consoled.
    He was gentle, but my child’s mind reeled in shock. He did to me what the dogs in the streets did . . . until we threw water on them, making them part grudgingly, disgruntled pink bits still distended. I concentrated my thoughts on the clever way he could completely dissolve in the darkness. His long teeth hung in the night without support and his watching eyes glistened wetly without expression like a rat in the dark. Sometimes the gold watch that had impressed Mother so much flashed. I stared into his open, watching eyes until he blinked, and then I stared at his teeth instead. And in this way it was over very quickly.
    Sated, he lay back and cuddled me like a bruised child. In his arms I lay as rigid as firewood. I had only known my mother’s soft embrace, and his hardness was unfamiliar. When his breathing turned even and his limbs heavy, I carefully inched out from under his sleeping body and tiptoed to the mirror. I stared at my own tear-streaked, shocked face in confusion. What was it he had just done to me? Had Mother known that he would do that to me? Did Father also violate Mother in this disgusting manner? I felt dirty. Was all the coy secrecy for this? I was disappointed. There was still sticky liquid and blood soiling my thighs, and soreness between my