It didn’t bother her that they looked more like a chubby pubescent boy’s chest, rather than a woman’s. She had no desire to buy implants like a few of her coworkers. She remembered when her body was just developing and she was sitting in the backyard with her mother, aunt, and a girl cousin about Ann’s same age-maybe ten. Ann didn’t know why, but all of sudden her mother and aunt lifted up Ann and her cousin’s cotton shirts and undershirts, revealing puffs of growing breasts. They each squeezed a breast as if they were testing rolls of bread in an oven. The two women then laughed and returned to their cigarettes and gossip. Ann and her cousin didn’t know what all the fuss was about. Ann didn’t feel violated or abused, just that she wasn’t privy to a secret that her body apparently held.

After the washing came the massage. Number 19 twisted her fists and fingers into knots that had developed throughout Ann’s back from carrying heavy trays of ceramic dishes. The pain shot down into the center of her lower body and even moved to her toes. Then came the slapping down her spine. The slapping made Ann feel delirious.

No one really talked in the spa, so there was no sound of voices or music, only the sloshing of water, slapping, and scrubbing. The spa took on a rhythm that was more felt than heard.

Ann herself wasn’t the type to initiate conversation, but somehow the loosening of the knots in her shoulders made her more bold. “When did you come here? You know, to this country?” she asked in a low voice, while Number 19 slathered moisturizer on her back.

The masseuse paused for a moment. From the corner of her eye, Ann could see her frown and suck on the inside of her cheeks. It was as if Ann had accused her of doing something wrong.

She took a deep breath and whispered in Ann’s ear, “Two year.” Number 19’s breath felt warm and actually smelled sweet, like fresh milk with sugar mixed in. She then did a last squeeze of Ann’s shoulders. “Very tight,” she said as Ann got up from the table.