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Chapter 113,005 wordsCompleted

The scene opens in a cramped living room where a tiny sitcom blares from a microwave‑size TV. Trevor’s father, a heavy‑set man with pomaded hair who drinks Southern Comfort, spins a slurred monologue about being “the best seal trainer at SeaWorld” and bragging about an uncle named James who “burned” people with gasoline. He taunts the narrator and Trevor, who sit on a makeshift couch salvaged from a wrecked Dodge Caravan, passing a liter of Sprite and texting a boy in Windsor. The father’s voice drifts between absurd boasts and threatening anecdotes, and he mentions the scar on Trevor’s neck from a nail‑gun accident when he was nine. After a brief, hostile exchange, the narrator places the Sprite down, signaling it’s time to leave. Both teens slip out, grab their bikes, and ride away as the father’s drunken ramblings fade behind them.

They follow the Connecticut River on a warm autumn night, the moon high above the oaks. The river is described in vivid detail, with occasional floating bodies that trigger 911 calls, sudden fish die‑offs, and a rusted refrigerator that looks like a “brown face.” As they pedal, the narrator mentally maps the surrounding neighborhoods, naming a litany of residents: Sid, an Indian immigrant family selling Cutco knives; the Canino brothers, whose father is in jail and who hide heroin and a Glock; Marin, a Sears worker with gold jewelry who resists homophobic slurs; Mr. Carlton, the tenement landlord who once harassed the narrator; Big Joe’s sister, Sasha, Jake, and B‑Rab—all victims of overdoses, with B‑Rab later imprisoned for laptop theft; Nacho, a Gulf‑War veteran who once rescued a baby from a snow‑buried trunk. He also recalls the fire on Asylum Ave., the former asylum‑turned‑school for the deaf, and the Coca‑Cola bottling plant.

Leaving the “white side” of the river, they ride into East Hartford, then South Glastonbury, passing orchards of rotting apples and abandoned mansions. They stop on a fence; Trevor lights a cigarette, offers a Snickers, and muses about NBA player Ray Allen possibly living in one of the empty houses. He reflects that if Ray were his dad, the house would be his, but then notes, “You already have a dad.” The conversation turns to a quiet, almost reverent moment as they stare at Hartford’s city lights, which pulse with an indescribable force, making the urban landscape feel divine. Both exhale profanities, and the narrator suddenly realizes that Coca‑Cola and Sprite are produced by the same corporation, a metaphor for the way disparate identities are subsumed by larger homogenizing forces.

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Through chapter 11

Also by Ocean Vuong: Night Sky with Exit Wounds. In this chapter the narrator expands the memoir with a series of fragmented vignettes that reveal ongoing physical abuse, moments of artistic escape, cultural dislocation, and the monarch‑butterfly migration as a metaphor for intergenerational trauma. The narrator recounts childhood memories in Hartford with his schizophrenic grandmother Lan, the protective nickname “Little Dog,” scenes of war‑time trauma, bullying on the school bus, his mother’s (Ma) attempts to teach him English and instill “American” habits, a spiral metaphor for memory, and his emerging role as family interpreter during domestic hardships. The chapter expands the backstory of Lan, revealing her escape from an arranged marriage, the naming of herself, and her life as a mother to a daughter named Hong; it depicts a wartime checkpoint scene where Lan and Hong confront armed soldiers, includes a brutal macaque‑brain ritual by the soldiers, and ties the events to 1968, the Year of the Monkey, deepening the memoir’s intergenerational trauma motif. The narrator discovers his grandfather Paul’s wartime past, his marriage to Lan, and learns that Paul is not his biological grandfather, a truth revealed by Ma; Paul’s cancer remission and his present life in Virginia are also detailed. Narrator is violently taken in a tan‑and‑rust Toyota by Ma and Lan, fearing a killer targeting Mai; they race to a house where a white man with a shotgun confronts them, learning that Mai has lived in Florida for five years; the car withdraws as a boy with a toy pistol mimics shooting. Ma waits at a kitchen table while her son lies wounded beneath pine trees; the son, addressed as Trev, shares a secret and declares he is no longer afraid of dying, and the chapter introduces a bullet metaphor for his lingering trauma. Ma’s nail‑salon work is shown as a toxic, underpaid immigrant labor site where she cares for a prosthetic‑leg client, and the narrator later tends her back with Vicks‑coin scrapes. The narrator’s first job at fourteen is a summer harvest on a Connecticut tobacco farm (2003), meeting crew‑leader Manny, owner Mr Buford, and other undocumented workers (Nico, Rick, Rigo). He learns the farm’s rhythm, hears “Lo siento,” and later encounters Buford’s grandson Trevor, prompting a son‑to‑mother apology. The narrator’s relationship with Trevor deepens into a volatile mix of mutual hatred for paternal figures, drug‑driven escapades, and explicit sexual intimacy; Trevor’s family background—an abusive father, an absent mother living in Oklahoma, and a cluttered mobile‑home life—is revealed, and the narrator’s memories of childhood trauma and his grandmother Lan surface alongside vivid scenes of farm work, a barn radio game, and a series of violent flashbacks. The narrator confesses a queer identity to Ma during a tense conversation at a Dunkin’ Donuts, learning that Ma has an older brother who is dead and that she once aborted a son in 1986. The chapter revisits childhood memories of a first pizza bagel from a boy named Gramoz, a violent episode with a pink bike that teaches the narrator about the danger of color, and a later night of dancing in a tobacco barn in a red dress with Trevor. Additional references to a teenage acid‑attack in Vietnam and the Orlando nightclub shooting underline the theme of violence intersecting with identity. The narrator and Trevor escape a drunken, violent father figure, ride together along the Connecticut River, catalogue a sprawling cast of neighborhood residents and forgotten histories, and end the night confronting the electric glow of Hartford and the realization that seemingly opposite brands (Coca‑Cola and Sprite) are the same corporate entity.