Deleted Scenes from Fish In Exile — Vi Khi Nao
CHARLEEN: You have a sense of humor.
CATHOLIC: I do.
CHARLEEN: History knows very little about the Etruscans. Etruscan civilization is obscure and enigmatic. What we know of them is that they are progressive. They value monogamy. The funerary inscriptions on the tombs suggest that the mother’s side of the family is deeply respected. I’ve not had the opportunity to get to know your side of your family.
CATHOLIC: It would be impossible to.
CHARLEEN: Why is that so?
CATHOLIC: They both passed away when I was fourteen. In a car accident.
CHARLEEN: You were an orphan at the brink—when you need them the most. My son didn’t inform me of this. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.
CATHOLIC: He did inform you.
CHARLEEN: Something this grave…I would have remembered.
CATHOLIC: You were running late for my wedding. Ethos felt it was important to have you there. Parentless, I understood. You were the only parent there for the wedding. He informed you and then he tolerated you. We tolerated you. You were self-possessed and you were fucking one of your students. You were running late. Shall I go on with rehearsing your memory of this histrionic space? The kettle hisses. I walk toward the hissing steam.
CHARLEEN: No…that won’t be necessary.
The steam. Yes, I remember that veil. The wedding veil. And this steam which is also a veil. I lean the spout of the kettle toward the mug’s edge, feeling both embarrassed and humiliated while the kettle topples over. It bounces off the edge of the stove onto the floor, cracking open a thump sound as hot liquid is siphoned out from its sprout. It rolls back and forth as if it were dough kneaded before setting plumply on its side with the mouth of the spout dangling open facing the ceiling. I am protected under thick coat and wool. The spillage is dispersing in numerous directions. Catholic rushes to the bathroom and she came back with two thick bath towels, throwing them on the floor and making large circular motion with her legs.
CATHOLIC: I prefer the American way of preparing tea.
CHARLEEN: So do I.
I watch my daughter-in-law clean after my mess. I know the error of my way as it comes to me like light. Had I known what I know now—my behaviors toward Ethos and Catholic would have changed. Catholic is the mother of all mothers. She is a mother to my son. A mother to me. A mother to my grandchildren. Motherless and fatherless, I should have felt the calling to be both when Ethos first introduced his beloved to me. Instead, I have behaved badly like a child, making inconceivable demands on my caretaker. Instead of expressing gratitude, I bite the hands that feed me. Feed my family generations of care and yearning and tendernesss. I bend on my knees and begin to pull the towels from beneath Catholic’s legs and begin to roll the towels in circular motions so that they soak up. I can feel the warmth of hot water cooled by the air and by towels. It feels meditative and calming. I may have looked like Queen Elizabeth mopping the royal floor. Carrying the soaked towels to the sink, I wrenched the liquid out of them by twisting them. When my palms were on the towels, the temperature of the towels were warmth and bearable, but when I squeeze the liquid out, the towels must have insulated the heat and I feel stronger heat spreading through my fingers. Involuntarily and out of fear of burning my fingers, I drop the towels into the sink layered with a few dishes and tea mugs.
CATHOLIC: Charleen, it’s okay. I’ll take over.
Like an obedient child, I back away from the sink and let the mother take care of the practicable details of the spilled child. Using an oven mitt, she bends and begins to tap the side of the teapot so that it sits up on an upright position. It takes her a moment of tinkering with it, nudging it like a mother, encouraging it gently with her fat hand for the cherubic and rotund child to sit up and takes it first step into the unknown. I see myself in that teapot. Spilling myself on everyone at a treacherous high temperature and scorching everyone in my path with 1st, 2nd, 3rd degree burn. How long will it take me to sit and cool down? In the winter it’s much easier, but what about in the summer?
ETHOS: Are you both ready?
From behind me, I hear my son speaking. It startles me.
CATHOLIC: Just a minute, Ethos.
ETHOS: What happened?
CHARLEEN: I couldn’t manage the kettle.
ETHOS: We’ll stop by Insomnia and order some on the way to the boat.
CHARLEEN: Insomnia?
ETHOS: Yes, it’s a coffee shop that recently opens. It’s rare in a place where we live. They made excellent brewed beverages. They have this matte tea. They burnt the leaves just right and it tastes like an earthy charcoalish flavor to it. Very lovely. Darling, would you like me to call Lidia and Callisto if we could borrow their boat for the fishing trip?
CATHOLIC: Yes, if you could take care of that…I will take care of this and we are ready to go.
ETHOS: I’ll heading over to their place. Be back in a flash. And mother, why don’t you head to the bathroom and wash up a bit.
CATHOLIC: Don’t forget the children’s jackets, Ethos!
***
Vi Khi Nao’s work includes poetry, fiction, film, play, and cross-genre collaboration. Her poetry collection, A Bell Curve Is A Pregnant Straight Line, and her short stories collection, The Vegas Dilemma, are out this Summer and Fall 2021 respectively. She was the fall 2019 fellow at the Black Mountain Institute.