Ku Min looked at me.

“Clothes make the man,” I said. “Do they have that expression over here? Probably not, in the land of the longyi. But you see what I’m driving at, don’t you?”

Chapter 16

“You are truly determined to leave Burma.”

“Vanya, I would do anything to get out!”

“It will be dangerous.”

“I do not care.”

“And there will be hardships. It will not be an easy journey, or a comfortable one.”

“It does not matter.”

“And we will have to travel light.”

“That is the best way, Evan.”

“Very light,” I said. “You will have to leave everything behind.”

“So? You know my family history. Every generation has left everything behind and fled one country to start anew in another.”

And every generation, I thought, has managed to choose the wrong side.

“Besides,” she said, “look around you, Evan. What is there that I would regret losing? I have nothing. You think it will sadden me to leave these four walls? Or these ragged clothes? Or anything else in my possession?”

“We’ll really be traveling light,” I said. “You’ll have to leave more than that.”

“But I have nothing else! Evan, tell me what else I have to leave. I will be delighted to leave it, but there is nothing else that I own.”

I looked at that beautiful face, that rich and exotic blend of East and West. Kipling was proven wrong; East was East and West was West, but the twain met spectacularly in those high cheekbones, that arch of brow, those almond-shaped eyes, that luxurious curtain of straight blond hair.

“This,” I said, reaching to touch her hair. “I’m afraid it has to go.”

“You think,” she said, wielding the scissors savagely, “that because I am a woman I am overly concerned with my appearance.” Snip! Snip! “But I do not care about superficial things.” Snip! Snip! “Hair is just hair. You cut it off and it grows back.” Snip! Snip! Snip! “It is true I like my hair” – Snip! – “and perhaps I take some pride in it” – Snip! Snip! – “but it is a small sacrifice if it will get me out of this godforsaken country” – Snip! – “and give me a chance at a new life!” Snip!

“That’s great,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Because I was a little worried. I know hair’s a big deal for women.”

“And not for men?”

“Not in the same way. We worry about losing it, but we don’t care what it looks like. We don’t even mind cutting it all off so long as we know it’ll grow back.”

“And you will not mind shaving off all of yours now?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then neither will I.” Snip! “There, Evan. I think that is as much as I can get off with the scissors.” She ran her hand through the mound of hair on the floor in front of her. “Well? You are the one who will have to look at me. How does it look?”

All she needed was a safety pin through her cheek and she could pass for a punk rock star. “It looks unfinished,” I said, “and it’ll be better when I’ve shaved it all off. But it’s not so bad.” I nodded at the mirror. “Have a look for yourself.”

“Why not? It is just hair. It is not important, it will surely grow back.” Then she fell silent as she looked in the mirror.

Then she burst into tears.

Her hair was fine and soft, and offered little resistance to the razor. When I’d finished, she looked again into the mirror, and for a long moment she was silent.

Then she said, “Do I look like a man? I don’t think so, Evan. I don’t look like a woman, but neither do I look like a man. I look like some sexless creature from another planet.”

“It just takes getting used to,” I said. I picked up the scissors, then turned to her. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Suppose I just turn myself in. What can they do to me?”

“Evan-”

“I mean, they’re not going to hang me. So they’ll slap me around a little and kick me out of the country. Hell, I’ve been thrown out of better places than this.”

“Evan, please-”

“So maybe that’s what I’ll do,” I said. “How about you? You’ll be all right, won’t you?” I held up a hand. “Hey, I’m just kidding. Honest.”

“I know you are kidding,” she said. “That is why the scissors are still in your hand. Otherwise they would be in your heart.”

“Uh,” I said.

“My ears are large,” she said. “I never realized this before. I have large ears.”

“Your ears are beautiful.”

“They were better when one did not see so much of them. Suddenly I have ears like a bat. And look at the shape of my head.”

“What’s wrong with the shape of your head?”

“I don’t know. I was never so aware of it before, the shape of my head. Now I am suddenly aware of nothing else.” She patted at her skull, framing and reframing it with her hands. “It is small,” she said. “I have a small head. With big ears.”

“It just looks that way because you’re used to it with hair.”

“Of course I am. Evan, we should have made love before I did this. When I was still beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful now.”

“You don’t have to say that. I will get over this, Evan. I am in shock, that is all, but I am adjusting to it. This is just part of the process of adjustment.”

“I understand.”

“Anyway,” she said, “we will travel light, yes? No mirrors.”

I took her place in front of the mirror, looking at my own close-cropped skull. If a barber had done this to me, I thought, I’d kill him. It would be better once I shaved it, I told myself. And then I remembered that I’d told Katya the same thing.

“No mirrors,” I said. “Count on it.”

With our hair scissored off we’d looked like victims, and a tad demented in the bargain. With our heads shaved, we just looked weird.

In our new robes, we looked like monks.

Or did we? It was hard to tell, even as it was hard to wrap oneself properly in the dark red cloth. It was probably the first thing you learned at monk school, how to wrap the set of three cloths so that they covered everything they were supposed to cover and wouldn’t fall open at an inopportune moment. They all seemed to know how to do it, even the small boys, but there had to be a trick to it, because we didn’t seem to have gotten the hang of it.

“Don’t wrap the outer robe too tight across your chest,” I advised Katya. “It makes you look, uh-”

“Like a woman,” she said, and adjusted the drape of the robe. “All my life,” she said, “I felt that my breasts were too small, and now I find out they are too large. Should I bind them, Evan?”

“It’s too late now,” I said. “They’re already grown.”

“To flatten them,” she said.

“Oh, I was thinking of Chinese women, you know, binding their feet.”

“I don’t think they do that anymore, Evan.”

“No, of course not. But should you try to flatten them? I don’t know. Let me see.”

She opened the robe.

“I just meant let me look at you in profile, Katya. I didn’t mean let me look at your breasts.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to see them.”

“Well, I suppose I did,” I said. “But that’s not what I meant. My God.”

“What is the matter?”

“You’re beautiful,” I said.

“Even with my head shaved?”

“Even if you wore a Richard Nixon Halloween mask,” I said. “Your breasts are-”

“Too small.”

“No.”

“Too large.”

“No,” I said. “Just right.” I took a deep breath. “You’d better close the robe. Now let’s see how it looks.”

“And how does it look, Evan?”

“It looks fine to me,” I said. “But to tell you the truth, I liked it better open.”

I looked hopelessly white.

Part of that, I knew, was attitudinal, and would change of its own accord. An actor’s face changes slightly when he gets into character, and the same thing happens when a traveler in another country speaks and thinks in another language. Speak French, or even speak English with a strong French accent, and one begins to shrug in a characteristic French fashion, and in a short time one’s features take on a Gallic cast.