Oversoul:High Tide

Three days before the fall of Saigon my father scooped me and my sister up and deposited us on a military plane headed for America. We were in the company of Auntie Anny, she isn't really our aunt, only a friend of our mother, but we called her auntie like we called Uncle Kong uncle. Our mother had already fled the country several weeks earlier, she was only able to take our brother since he was the only one with a birth certificate -hence, a required document in the application of a passport. His birth had taken place in a hospital whereas ours were at home with midwives, that special treatment hadn't resulted from his being a boy but that of our mother's experience in childbirth, David being her third. Our mother was never partial in that traditional sense, in fact, she was known for a flair of fairness with a touch of feminism.

Our mother had taken our brother to Taiwan, given it the only country that had granted her their visas.

In what manner had we lived those weeks during her absence I cannot recall. I can only suppose the house having run on an automated system set long before my birth. The servants were competent enough to keep the motor running but we were mostly left to our own device. The tutors had been dismissed, we had no visitors, our father was still in town but he was more of a ghost than a parent during those last days, and we were just 2 kids amidst a falling city, half forgotten.

On the day we left, the airport was crammed with people - and I later learned, from books and movies, that those people were all there in desperate hope to leave the country, and they were there everyday, until all the planes left with the last of the GIs. I never once realized how fortunate we were, maybe it was because my heart with filled with a numbing kind of panic when our father said Goodbye; or, maybe it was simply because I was 11.

I'd never liked Auntie Anny, especially after she'd started bunking with us the year before, she was the only one of our mother's entourage who had had to live with us and I never understood why, and there I was, stuck with her, under her care. And I knew she was the boss once we were airborne. It's hard to say what I felt that day, and whether we'd realized we'd become orphans, the orphans of war?

Though our parents were very much alive but they weren't there, and we had no idea when we were to see them again. As if we'd known there were no plans in store for us so we never questioned.

Of my entire childhood there was but one constant, that of a steady stream of blankness, but it cannot be compared with what I felt that day on the plane, the void was so complete that I felt safe, safe in the cocoon of the black hole.

We flew for a very long time and landed in Guam, there were tents already set up, each a different function, my favorite the cafeteria, it was the first time I had scrambled eggs. And it was months later that I understood we are what they call the refugees.

The camp ground was extensive, we were allowed to roam and explore to our hearts' content as Auntie Anny's heart wasn't into us. We idled the days away, it was like one long summer holiday, except we are far away from our beach house, and that it wasn't a holiday after all, because we didn't know when school might begin again.

A week later we ran into our real aunts, Aunt Sylvie & Christy, Aunt S was a godsend, she doted on us with hugs & kisses & sweets -my sister & I had the biggest lollipop we'd ever seen, and not to share because we each had one of our own. She cared for us by making sure we ate and had clean clothes, and we felt like children once again.

But still I was often glum, seeking only the company of myself. Tramping around being my only pastime I covered the entire camp ground at least 10 times over, but never seeing anything as I walked. Those were my unseeing days.

My other favorite diversion was the beach, where I lingered

Oversoul stories: False Alarm

It was near Christmas time when my sister Eli took her holiday in Italy with her new beau. I was to man the store on my own while she was absent, it was the only way we could afford to take our vacations in those last dying days. J&B Fur was the only remaining of all the stores our father had opened back in '85, when he tried his hand in the garment business.

Given that our clientele was mostly older Asian women I was rather alarmed when a young Hispanic man walked into the store that first afternoon. Though he appeared harmless but in my slight panic I phoned next door to Barclay Seafood, my father's first business venture with Uncle Peter dated back to 1979. I asked for someone to be sent over for security, so a driver came around and just stood by the door, and the Hispanic man left after having circled only half the space.

Then on the following day he showed again, but this time he stood behind locked door, it was something we do when alone in the store after certain hours. So when he knocked I simply shook my head and mouthed "Closed". He lingered for just a moment longer before turning to leave.

Then on the third day he came again, my father had just left to lunch and had dropped 20K in cash for a late deposit. I was on the phone with my mother in France, chatting away happily as he pushed the door in, I paused just long enough to decide not to call Barclay, Why? I suppose he'd become familiar, I remember still that solemn air about him, and those haunting eyes, he looked so sad. But I kept my mother on the line, thinking it would somehow shield me from harm. After a few minutes he stopped at a rack in the back of the store and said, "I'll take this." I cut the line and approached him for the outfit, when I got close enough he pulled me down by the elbow and threatened me with a hunting knife, "Don't scream", he said in a low steady voice. Despite his warning I started to cry, purely from fright, and muttered "Please don't hurt me," repeatedly. And in reply he kept saying, "Stop crying". I guess we were both amateurs.

Then he asked me where the register was, I walked towards it with him still holding my arm, leaned over the counter and pressed No Sale to open it, "Take all the money out," he commanded. I gave him all the cash from the register, it was just under $300, after eyeing the bills he asked, "Is there more?" In a split second I remembered my father's deposit, which I'd tossed in a drawer behind the display case in the front by the telephone, I asked myself if I believe he'll leave if I were to give him that, but before I thought any more of the situation I screamed in tears, "Please don't hurt me". Then he changed target and asked, "What's upstairs?" "Nothing, just offices." I said, instantly calm. "Show me," he pulled me towards the staircase. "NO! There's nothing up there, PLEASE, let me go". Fresh tears streamed down my face as I realized the horror in store for me. "Stop crying or I'll cut you." He said, more forcefully. When I looked at the shiny blade I felt a different fear and cried even louder, then he started to drag me by the arm to go up the stairs while I resisted with the help of gravity. He never squeezed my arm any harder, he didn't strike me, he simply dragged and I continued to resist, then at the landing where the stairs turned I suddenly found myself free, in a flash I looked him in the eyes, incredulous; I turned and fled to the sidewalk wearing only my black lacy bra and purple skirt. All heads turned and stared in silence, I felt the moment freeze, then out of the corner of my eye I sensed a shadow fading away. Then the next moment he was gone.

I returned to the store and locked the door, picked up my sweater on the stair and pulled it over my head, What had just happened? I asked myself. How did I get away? The rational explanation? It was a fluke to have chosen that loose fitting sweater that morning, which allowed me to easily slip through as we played tug of war. But if you ask me, it was my Oversoul who had come to my rescue. He didn't come with bells or whistles, just a simple press and release.

A year later I flew back from Los Angeles to testify against him in court, and noticed that his eyes were haunting no more.

Oversoul stories -Lost by the Shore

I used to believe myself uniquely special in my mother's eyes, partly because of those spontaneous afternoon outings the year I entered the 5th grade. Having only recently transferred to the International School I had a different schedule from my brother & sister, who remained in our old school. Throughout that year my mother would sporadically intercept the bus at the playground where we queued up in the afternoon and whisk me away to join her with her friends, they met mostly at the club but once or twice it was at someone's house. Those afternoons were precious to me because I was the chosen one; they were delicious because I thought her friends sweet; they were thrilling because it was a secret.

My mother never told me to lie, but when I was questioned by my father I instinctively knew to say nothing of those outings. Though I was always Daddy's girl but it was my mother's love & attention I'd most craved. That was the first time I'd seen that hurt in my father's eyes, but I wasn't saddened as I knew I wasn't the cause to his unhappiness, so I broke my father's heart just to please my mother.

In looking back now I realize that I was trained to lie in the most intrinsic level....that the ends justify the means. But most of all, I learned to break my father's heart without so much of a tremor.

On that particular afternoon-a half day-my mother and her entourage came by my school to pick me up and we all drove out of the city. The seaside was quiet as the season hasn't yet begun and we were the only party in sight on the shoreline. When the umbrellas were set up my mother hid behind one of them. Someone gave me a football and told me to go play. So I took it to the waves and entertained myself as best I could - I was never very good at it because I'd always had my siblings with me. I remember the feeling of a sinking loneliness, while I kicked the football into the water the waves brought it back and I chased it only to kick it again, I felt stupid in believing that I would actually have some quality time with her. I let the sea breeze dry my eyes as I dug my feet deeper into the wet sand, and over time I felt better as I emptied my heart in quelling my desires, and when I was ready to forgive my mother I cautiously turned around, with a half-hearted smile. But there was nothing, only a vastness before me, an endless stretch of sand and nothing more. I couldn't decide if it was the mist or my tears blurring my vision but everything seemed confused, then it started to rain, then it poured. It washed away the mist and I could see again, but still I can't find my mother, they had all vanished, umbrellas and all.

Had they forgotten me? and driven back to the city without me? I let out a great cry, and called "Mama!" again and again. And as I repeated my cries I turned this way and that, until finally I lost my bearing, I couldn't even be sure in which direction I should run. So I just ran, mindlessly. I was crying and calling and running along the horizon, for I don't know how long, it could have been merely 10 minutes, perhaps 30, but it felt like forever.

Then suddenly I heard my name through the rain, and when I looked up I saw a tan strong body come into view. It was Uncle Kong, he wasn't really my uncle, just a friend of my mother's, "Kaye," he said when he saw me, "it's okay now, I found you." he smiled so handsomely.

All the ride back they discussed the details of their search party, Uncle Kong swore he'd heard me crying for him, and others a different tale. My mother kept me in her embrace and kissed my head at every bump on the road home. I felt exalted.

Although my oversoul had manifested in the form of Uncle Kong but it was in my mother's arms that I'd found solace that afternoon.