lucyoncolorado

In which R is an animated Wolverine action figure...

I'm standing in front of a plantation house in what appears to be a dry forest of Indochina. A boy in saffron robes sleeps in a hammock hanging from the heavy columns of the shaded front porch. A student monk? Why is he here? I'm about to wake him when I'm called inside to lunch.

I sit at a long table with R's family as a servant places plates in front in front of us, dishes in the center. R is there, also his parents and his brother who has brought a visibly pregnant white woman with him, who he introduces as his girlfriend. My father is there as well. Conversation is strained and awkward.

The girlfriend is nervous. If she is to be either my sister-in-law or the mother of my niece or nephew then I should attempt to build some affection or ease between us. I smile at her. I tell her I'm sure we'll become good friends.

She leans forward to take a bite then spills a spoonful of dal in her lap. To show solidarity, I tilt my glass of wine and spill a few drops on my chest. We laugh and laugh.

She announces that she's carrying twins. A hush around the table. I break the silence.

"Wow V, that means you'll have four children soon."

"Six," he clarifies. "K and S are also pregnant, one more from each."

I turn up my wine glass, drink it all in one gulp dramatically. No one says anything. Six children from four different moms. Four of the children will be infants at the same time, the other two are already teenagers.

There's a pounding on the front door. I know who it is. A monster, come to get us. I know how to defeat it too. But it means exposing our secret in front of my father, in front of V's girlfriend.

A few more pounds, then wood smashing. The monster has broken through. He runs into the dining room, so fast he's just a streak of purple. He's tiny but stocky, maybe a foot high, and he leaps up into the air to attack us.

R jumps from his chair, into the air as well. On his way up, he transform himself, pulsating and shrinking until he is also a stocky foot high action figure. He is Wolverine. Blades extend from his knuckles.

Wolverine/R and the monster crash into each other, chests bumping together, midair. Then they fight. The tumult upsets the table, smashes into the chandelier, breaks through window, continues along the front porch. We all run outside and watch them as they tumble together down the hill of the front lawn, towards the forest.

My father is shocked. "Yes," I tell him. "R is also a Wolverine action figure. I didn't know how to tell you."

The boy monk wakes up from his nap. He steps out of the hammock and waves me over. He spreads the nylon netting open wide between his hands, then pops it out in front of him as if it were a bedsheet. It transforms into a vending cart. The boy steps behind it, ducks down, then reappears as a mustachioed paan wallah. He arranges tins and betel leaves on his cart. I notice the red spit stains dotting the porch.