Free Chenxi and the Foreigner by Sally Rippin

the consulate.’
    They walked back down the street to the front gate. Anna waited at the corner, worried that her father might appear. She wasn’t sure if she was in a state to speak to him. Would he even recognise her? She felt sure she looked different. What did she look like?
    After an eternity, Chenxi and Laurent returned on their bikes. Anna wanted to scold them for taking so long, but she couldn’t find the words. Her voice seemed to be smothered with the same cotton wool.
    On the back of Chenxi’s bike, the ground whizzed beneath her. Too fast. If Anna looked up, the sinking starless sky made her feel worse. She concentrated on staring at Chenxi’s arm.
    She rested her cheek lightly against Chenxi’s back, then withdrew it, suddenly not sure if it was Chenxi or Laurent. She studied the arm again and tried to tell by the colour of the skin whose bike she was on, but the colour seemed to change with every streetlight. She wondered how much longer it would be until they arrived. When they did, it seemed as if she’d only got on the bike, and she couldn’t remember where they’d said they were going. She wanted to lie down.
    Chenxi smiled to himself when he saw the same square man in the black suit at the door of the bar. His stance was the same as the other night, his arms crossed tightly. It was as if he hadn’t moved. If the man recognised him, he made no sign of it, as Chenxi walked straight through the front door, a foreigner on either side of him. So, in your own country the worst racists are your fellow men, he thought bitterly.

11
    Lying in her bed, listening to early morning waltzers in the park, Anna couldn’t remember how she had got home. She remembered sitting in the bar drinking rum and Coke and then turning around to see that Chenxi had gone.
    Laurent had kept her glass filled until suddenly Anna had felt a wave of nausea. A prickling on the insides of her cheeks. Laurent must have noticed her go pale because he took her outside. She remembered him standing a little way off, smoking a cigarette, while she retched into the bushes under the twinkly fairy lights. She thought she remembered a taxi.
    Her father’s alarm went and Anna listened to the familiar shuffling of his morning ritual. Toilet. Shower. Shave. Breakfast. Teeth. She heard him tap on her bedroom door, and winced.
    â€˜Darling, I’m just going in to the office for a while. I’ll be back for lunch. Are you feeling better?…Anna?…That nice French student who dropped you home last night told me it must have been the noodles you ate. I did tell you not to eat in any local restaurants, didn’t I? You have enough money to eat out properly, don’t you?…Love?…I’ve left some more on the table just in case. If you’re here when I get back for lunch we’ll go out and get you a nice steak. I know a restaurant that imports them from Australia…Well, OK, love. I’ll ring from work if I get the chance. Don’t forget, the aiyi ’s coming today.’
    Anna lay quietly until she heard him close the front door. She found if she stayed very still she didn’t feel so sick. When the waltzers had packed up and gone home, and all she could hear was the distant traffic, she drifted back to sleep.
    She woke to the sound of the shower running. She looked down at her watch, but it was only ten-fifteen. Could her father be home early? She lay and listened. That was the sound of her hairdryer being used, and of someone scrabbling around in the bathroom cabinet. She lay still.
    Her bedroom door opened and Anna quickly shut her eyes. The aiyi , a towel wrapped around her, wearing Anna’s lipstick, gasped and made a hasty retreat. Anna heard her dressing in the bathroom.
    A little while later, she heard the vacuum start, and the clunking of vases being dusted. She rolled over and took her journal out of the bedside drawer. Groaning, she heaved herself into a