flatter me so."
"I want to put it in my journal but it is buried in one of my
bags."
"I see. I'm glad you write. I think you should write or draw."
"Why?"
"Why not? As an indictment of love if nothing else. I'm wondering
what you think about your mother having four sons. Really five
including the miscarriage."
"I wouldn't know. I suppose she loved Children. She loved raising
them."
"She needed children. Not only did her body push her to make
copies of herself to preserve her DNA but also she needed the
distractions from her own thinking-from love gone awry. She had
married a tyrant. The only thing they shared was the scheming of
easily cobbled projects to make a tiny bit of money they always hoped
would make them filthy rich. The rebellion against her family and
sexual felicity with his large genitalia had been eroded in time. She
became conscious of his piggish habits. She was always thinking about
being alienated from her former family, which, if she had stayed with
them, would have allowed her to live a comfortable life. Children were
her distraction but when they were older she resented their
independence. As far as your father is concerned, he loved you even
more: he loved chasing after you as if you were a cockroach that he
wanted to smash. He got your brothers to help him stomp on you."
"How do you know that the need to preserve DNA makes a mother
love?" Jatupon whined sullenly.
"I read it in a comic book."
Jatupon became taciturn. His head hurt and he wanted to vomit.
He couldn't get up. He tried to stand up but couldn't do so. He tried
to vomit in a cup but nothing came up."