Chapter Six #3
“Grace,” said Baba, “I don’t want you tiring yourself.”
“I have nothing to do before the baby arrives. It would amuse me to have a pupil, at least until things are settled.”
“I suppose.”
Sai Ma turned to me. “I’ll show you how to use the phonograph so you can listen as much as you like.
We have songs in Mandarin, and English ones, too.
Living in Hong Kong is different than in the mainland .
. . you’ll need to speak some English to get by.
I learned my first words by listening to music. ”
Gratitude bubbled to my throat. “Thank you, Sai Ma.”
“Is there anything else?” Baba said, impatient to be alone once more. His eyes glazed. He was melting into the euphoria of a new pipe.
Yes, there was one more thing. I stood taller—something about being in Hong Kong, far from home, made me bold. “Can I meet Lily?”
“Not today.” Sai Ma became preoccupied with a cushion at her side, fluffing it with her hands. “She stays at school—you’ll meet her on Saturday when she’s back.” A beat. “We’ll have a big family dinner. Maybe you can prepare a dish or two.”
I had witnessed the power of her beauty over Baba, and it was a valuable lesson that his favor could be won. For me, it wouldn’t be through beauty—but perhaps food. I’d make every dish I knew if that was what it took. “I will.”
“Good,” she said, suddenly patting her forehead with her fingers.
Baba set down his pipe. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m feeling dizzy.”
“Again? I’ll send for Dr. Wong.”
“No, no.” Baba was starting to get up, and Sai Ma touched his arm. “It’s nothing. I was this way with Lily, too, it’s just the baby.”
“Hm.” Mollified, Baba picked up his pipe again. “You should take dinner in your room.”
“But your children—”
“They can wait.”
“All right then.” She stroked his arm and sent me an apologetic look.
“I’m afraid your father and I won’t join you tonight, but the maids have prepared some noodles for you and your brother.
There’s fresh tofu pudding, too. Go along, Tingting will show you to where we eat.
” She smiled. “We’ll talk more in the morning. ”
“What did you think of her?” asked Yi Gor when we were alone.
We were sharing a room in the lowest level of the house, across the hall from where the maids lived.
It was a temporary arrangement, Sai Ma explained, as our rooms on the second floor had flooded a week ago from a storm and were still being dried out.
I didn’t mind, but Yi Gor was convinced it was a plot against us.
“She’s wonderful,” I responded. “She’s going to teach me to read and sing. She used to be an opera singer, did you know?”
Yi Gor made a grunt that sounded quite like our father’s.
“What did Baba say to you?” I asked.
My brother pursed his lips. He wouldn’t answer, but his eyes darkened into two telling pits in his skull.
“What?” I prodded.
“He wants me to start working at the factory,” he finally replied. “I’m to drive a truck.”
“Why are you so unhappy about it?”
“I didn’t leave home to drive a truck,” he snapped. “I’m his son. He should be teaching me to take over the business.”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe Baba and Gu Ma want to test your ability first. After that, they’ll give you more responsibilities.”
“Or maybe they don’t want us any more than Ah Ma did,” he said, still sullen. “How long, exactly, was your conversation with Baba? Two minutes, three?”
He was trying to chip away at my good mood. Both of us were petty that way, like Ah Ma. I wouldn’t let him win.
“Sai Ma wasn’t feeling well, so he sent me away. Did you talk to her?”
“She ignored me. She thinks she’s high class, but she forgets that she’s the second wife.”
“Mama told me to treat her well,” I said.
“Mama told me—”
“What?” I asked when my brother didn’t finish. “She told you what?”
“Never mind.” He yanked on the flimsy yellow curtain that separated our sides of the room. He’d chosen the side with the lamp, I the window—something I now regretted as he switched off the light. “Go to sleep.”
My fists curled at my sides, and I glared at him even though he couldn’t see.
I fell back on my mattress, oddly reassured by the creaks it made under my weight. Yi Gor was already snoring, the blessing of an untroubled mind. Me, on the other hand, I had work to do. In the dark, to the clicks of the fireflies bouncing against the windowpane, I practiced turning invisible.
I held my breath, tracing my fingers over the gold bracelet Mama had given me and counting its links.
Three, four, five.
Mama called what we had a demon inside us, but I disagreed. There was something powerful, something thrilling about having this secret. This curse. It made me feel untouchable in the way that beautiful people—like Sai Ma—were.
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.
I wondered if my great-grandmother, who could speak to heaven, had felt the same. What would she say to me, a girl like dust and shadow, who could shimmer in and out of this world?
I made it to forty-nine—almost a minute—before I slipped from this world past the doors of sleep.
Tomorrow I would try again.