Call it Home

Call It Home

Petrach and Ninny's house was a refurbished former air-conditioning
installation on the top of an old hotel. It had been willed to them by
Petrach's uncle, Po Pi Pong. For a long time Po Pi Pong had worked as a
bus-boy in the hotel and then he hadn't. He had died quite suddenly. On
the job. Delivering two trays of oysters and a Coca-Cola.

The house had one bedroom, one kitchen, one living-room, one bathroom
and one map-room. The map-room was Petrach's domain, the kitchen
Ninny's, the rest of the house they shared.

After the birth of his son Petrach spent more and more time in his
map-room. After two weeks Ninny could stand it no more. She knocked
quietly and then she stormed in.

"Petrach," she said, "I never see you any more. You're either cooped
up in here or working at the helicopter repair shop."

Petrach looked up from the map of Bangladesh he was perusing. "I work
to make money," he said.

Ninny angrily pointed in the general direction of Bangladesh's lower
south-east corner. "You're not making money now," she said.

"Oh Ninny," said Petrach.

"Is it because he's so small?" said Ninny. "You certainly told
Spoonitsy where to go."

"I won't have people insulting our son," said Petrach.

"Then come and see him," said Ninny.

Defeated, Petrach pushed himself up. He followed Ninny into their
bedroom. Carefully Ninny lifted the sleeping Psigor and placed him in
the palms of her husband's hands.

Psigor twitched peacefully.