Page 185 of The Encore’s Crown

“I am Mrs. Drysdale. He knows better.”

Kiri rolls his eyes. Rithy snorts.

“Some of us don’t accept that curse,” Rithy says.

She says something pointed to him in Khmer. Rithy lifts both hands. Then she steps close and cups my face.

“Oh,” she breathes.

Her palms are warm against my cheeks. She looks at me from every angle like I’m produce she’s considering buying, then says something to Kiri and Rithy in Khmer. Both of them smile. Kiri tries to hide his.

“What did she say?” I ask.

His mouth twitches.

“She said you’re too beautiful to be real.”

My ego immediately swells to dangerous proportions.

Then he adds, “But you don’t look plastic.”

I burst out laughing. She smiles as if this confirms something, pulls me into her arms and squeezes hard enough to surprise me. She releases me only to take hold of my hand.

“Come. Come inside. Shoes off.”

She pulls me toward the house before I can answer. The second we step through the front door, Kiri bends to untie his shoes. Rithy kicks his off beside him. I follow, lining mine neatly against the wall with the others.

The entryway is immaculate. The floors shine. The console table holds one bowl, one framed photograph and a vase of flowers arranged so perfectly they could be fake. Even the coats hanging by the door are spaced evenly. Kiri notices me looking.

“Everything always has to be like this,” he says quietly.

Rithy glances along the spotless hallway.

“Yeah. God forbid there's a speck of dust anywhere.”

Ma looks back from halfway to the kitchen.

“We like our house clean. It's not wrong to have pride.”

“I didn’t say it was, Ma,” Rithy says.

“You say with your face.”

“My face is permanently tuned to hostility. It's my greatest weapon.”

“True.”

I cover my laugh with a cough. The living room looks just as perfect. Cushions placed at exact angles. Magazines squared on the coffee table. Family photographs arranged across the mantel in matching frames. The boys as children. Kiri in a school uniform, already standing like someone warned him not to slouch. Rithy beside him with buzzed hair and a smile that looks one second away from trouble. Their mother between them, younger but unmistakable.

There’s one photograph of a large man in military uniform. He has Kiri’s handsome face and broad build, but none of his warmth. I look away before Kiri catches me staring. Mrs. Chhim leads us into the kitchen and immediately starts fussing with a kettle.

“Ma, sit down,” Kiri says.

“It is my birthday. I make tea.”

She waves him away and starts spooning loose tea into a pot. The scent blooms through the kitchen as soon as she pours in the hot water. Floral and calming. He moves automatically, taking cups from a cabinet without asking where they are. Rithy opens the refrigerator and steals something from a covered plate. She smacks his hand with a dish towel.

“That is for later.”