Tick Tock

like our family, not born city person. She from sticks, nowhere village on Xan river near borders Laos and Cambodia. All jungle out there on Xan River. Some people there strange, have strange knowledge.”
    “Sort of like Pittsburgh,” Del said.
    “What strange knowledge?” Tommy asked.
    “Magic. But not magic like stupid Roland Ironwright pulls rabbits from hats and Mai thinks clever.”
    “Magic,” Tommy said numbly.
    “This magic like making potion to win love of girl, making charm to succeed in business. But also worse.”
    “Worse how?”
    “Talking to dead,” Mother Phan said ominously, “learning secrets about land of dead, making dead walk and work as slaves.”
    The Peterbilt was half a block behind them. As it approached, the roar of its engine was growing louder than that of the Jaguar.
    Del pushed the Jaguar as hard as she dared, but she continued to lose ground.
    Tommy's mother said, “Xan River magic bring spirits from dark underworld, put curse on sorcerer's enemies.”
    “This Xan River is definitely a part of the planet that's under the influence of evil extraterrestrial powers,” Del declared.
    “Quy Trang Dai know this magic,” said Mother Phan. “How to make a dead man dig up out of his grave and kill who told to kill. How to use frog gonads in potion to make enemy's heart and liver melt into mud. How to put curse on woman who sleeps with your husband, so she give birth to baby with human head, dog body, and lobster hands.”
    “And you played mah-jongg with this woman!” Tommy demanded, outraged.
    “Sometimes bridge,” said Mother Phan.
    “But how could you associate with this monster?”
    “Be respectful, boy. Quy your elder by many years, earn respect. She no monster. Aside from this stupid thing she do with rag doll, she nice lady.”
    “She's trying to kill me!”
    “Not trying to kill you.”
    “She is trying to kill me.”
    “Don't shout and be crazy like maniac drunk detective.”
    “She's trying to kill me!”
    “She only trying to scare you so you maybe be more respectful of Vietnamese ways.”
    Behind them, the Samaritan-thing blew the Peterbilt's air horn: three long blasts, gleefully announcing that it was closing in for the kill.
    “Mom, this creature murdered three innocent bystanders already tonight, and it sure as hell will kill me if it can.”
    Tommy's mother sighed regretfully. “Quy Trang Dai not always as good at magic as she think.”
    “What?”
    “Probably make rag doll with one missing ingredient, summon demon from underworld with one wrong word. Mistake.”
    “Mistake?”
    “Everybody make mistake sometime.”
    Del said, “That's why they make erasers.”
    “I'll kill this Mrs. Dai, I swear,” Tommy announced.
    “Don't be stupid,” Mother Phan said. “Quy Trang Dai nice lady, you not kill nice lady.”
    “She is not a nice lady, damn it!”
    Del said disapprovingly, “Tommy, I've never heard you be so judgmental.”
    “I'll kill her,” Tommy repeated defiantly.
    Mother Phan said, “Quy never use magic for herself, not make herself rich with magic, work hard as hairdresser. Only use magic once or twice a year to help others.”
    “Well I sure haven't been helped by all this,” Tommy said.
    “Ah,” Del said knowingly, “I see.”
    Tommy said, “What? What do you see?”
    The air horn of the Peterbilt blared again.
    To Tommy's Mother, Del said, “Are you going to tell him?”
    “I don't like you,” Mother Phan reminded her.
    “You just don't know me well enough yet.”
    “Never going to know you better.”
    “Let's do lunch and see how it goes.”
    Almost blinded by a flash of insight, Tommy blinked fiercely and said, “Mom, good God, did you ask this monster, this nut ball Dai woman, to make that rag doll?”
    “No!” his mother said. She turned to meet his eyes as he leaned forward from the backseat. “Never. You thoughtless son sometimes, won't be doctor, won't work in bakery, head full of stupid dreams, but in your heart you not bad boy, never bad boy.”
    He was actually touched by what she had said. Over the years she had sparingly administered praise with an eyedropper; therefore, hearing her acknowledge that he was, although thoughtless, not truly an evil boy… well, this was like being fed a spoon, a cup, a bowl of motherly love.
    “Quy Trang Dai and other ladies, we play mah-jongg. We play cards. While we play, we talk. Talk about whose son join gang, whose husband faithless. Talk about what children doing, what cute thing grandchildren say. I talk about you, how you become so far from family,