LEARN HOW TO SAY NO! BE BOUNDARIED!

Tap tap tap …

… pressing down on to the bin pedal with his foot. The bin lid swings open …

The pedal bin is illumined.

The broccoli is illumined.

Ying Yue (still holding her breath), gently drops the (illumined) broccoli into the (illumined) pedal bin. It nestles up against the bloodied tissue and the cellophane wrapper of a value pack of jotters (unlined. Illumined). Charles releases the pedal. Ying Yue exhales.

Avigail finds Charles’s patent lack of concern for his cat deeply perturbing. She has no idea why she suddenly keeps gendering everything female. She knows that the cat is called Morpheus and Morpheus is a boy’s name, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

The Greek god of dreams?

Ah …

The River of Forgetfulness?

The River of Oblivion?

That elusive guy in the Matrix films?

Avigail also has no idea how she might stop Wang Shu from emptying out Charles’s fridge. She is slightly concerned that stopping someone from emptying out a stranger’s fridge may be bad luck to the Chinese. Although (curiously) she suddenly remembers how empty things (an empty stove, an empty bucket, an empty house) are considered unlucky by Jews.

Avigail wonders what is good luck to the Chinese (aside from the number 8)?

She is also perturbed by Ying Yue’s breath-holding which strikes her as quite odd. She is unable to fully grasp the complexities of Ying Yue’s relationship with Wang Shu, but she suspects that it isn’t entirely functional or tremendously nurturing.

Ying Yue reminds her of an exhausted marsupial.

‘Ying Yue,’ Avigail asks, ‘what, aside from the number 8, is good luck in Chinese culture?’

Ying Yue pauses mid-way between the refrigerator and the pedal bin. She is clutching a mouldy block of cheese which Wang Shu has just handed her. Ying Yue is holding her breath so kind of imagines that Avigail can’t see her.

Hmm. This is complex. Does she exhale and answer, or does she try to answer while still holding her breath?

She isn’t sure.

Charles (as if sensing Ying Yue’s disquiet) silently opens the pedal bin.

Fourth finger … tap tap tap … ring finger … tap tap tap …

MUST SELF-PARTNER …

Tap tap tap …

Ying Yue takes this as a sign. She throws the cheese into the bin:

a hit!

then exclaims, very quickly, in a single, breathy expulsion:

‘Uh … colour red – lucky colour … auspicious … wedding colour …

uh … lucky dragon …

uh … turtle …

yes … venerable turtle lives to great age …

uh … lucky fish … for wealth … for abundance …

and uh … lucky circle – always round shape is very propitious …

uh … lucky oranges … uh … word for orange is same-like as word for lucky and same-like as word for gold and gold is always lucky …

Uh … yes … lucky turtle … for long life …

Uh …’

Her eyes frantically scan the room, hunting for inspiration.