MOTEL ROOM PART TWO

She hates all the men. All the unhappy, married men who come and use her to try to escape--however momentarily--from their mundane lives. They're always old and smell bad--like neglect and sadness.

Some, like the man she can hear milling about in the motel room, try to assuage their guilt by pretending to care about her. But to her they are all the same. She's already given them what they think they want but she can't give them what they really need. Every one of them only adds another layer of self hatred to her soul--she has no exoneration to give.

They may be lonely and sad, but still they come to her--a pathetic, young girl who has no other way. For if it were not for the profession she so despised, her family would have no place to live; no food to eat. She was blessed--or cursed--with the beauty in the family. Small, slim, beautiful innocent face--though innocent she was not. Daily, she cursed her beauty. Her family is shamed by her yet they live in the house she provides, eat the food paid for by sin.

In her bra and panties, which she would later soak to remove the smell of him--all the hims, she emerges from the bathroom.

He's looking at her searchingly. What's he thinking, she wonders briefly, because he had that same lost look last time they were in the motel room. She's so fragile and tiny, some think they can save her--like she is a stray kitten they can bring home and nurse back to health. These savior types are the worst of all. Because they use her like all the rest then try to justify it. She prefers those who just get it over with, throw down a wad of cash, and leave.

This one is conflicted. She can see it in his sad eyes--can see the pain of mis-spent youth, unhappy marriage, children who didn't live to expectations, a life of disappoinment. Looks she's seen so often. What do they expect from her?

He wants to make conversation. She wants to leave.

"What's your name?" he asks, more questions are in his eyes.

She smiles politely as she knows she must. "Jade," she answers with no emotion. She hates Jade.

"Jade?" he asks, hoping for more. She edges closer to the door, coiling for a quick escape.

Smiling coyly, "Wen-Qi," she lies, feeling immediate regret for besmirching her grandmother's name. She walks out the door, leaning on it momentarily, choking back the tears. After years of this, she wonders, when the tears will stop.

Out on the street, dirty, unclean Jade disappears and Li An walks into the shop to buy groceries. She picks up a jade necklace and puts it in her pocket. Later, she'll give it to her mother, hoping her mother will look her in the eye.