Chapter Seven #2
“Pok Mun,” said Sai Ma, setting down her chopsticks. “Let’s not have discord at our family dinner. Your children are new here, and new to me. They’ll need time.”
She passed Baba his pipe, practically inserting it into his mouth. “At least Lily isn’t the only difficult one in the family now,” she added lightly.
“Won’t she be hungry?” I asked.
Sai Ma was amused. “You’re worried about her after how badly she treated you?”
“We’re family,” I replied.
“Family,” my stepmother echoed. “What a good girl you are. Don’t you worry about Lily, she likes reading in her room. I’ll have Tingting bring her supper later tonight.”
Sai Ma’s praise tickled my skin with delight, but still, I wished my sister were here. No matter how wicked I was, Mama never punished me by withholding food.
I supposed things were different in Hong Kong. I focused on my pork, which Baba was saying to make less salty next time, and tried not to think about it.
The next morning, it took seven tries before I turned invisible.
At last, a mantle of glittering cold fell upon me, chasing away my room’s sticky heat, and I let out a squeal of delight, accidentally ending the spell prematurely.
The second time, I traced the longest crack on my wall, counting to sixty before I let go.
The third time, I was ready. With the largest breath I could take, I tiptoed up the stairs to Lily’s room.
One, two, three.
By the count of ten, I’d reached her door. It was slightly ajar, and I peered in.
My sister was kneeling beside her bed, her head nestled in the crook of her arm. She was playing by herself, talking to two dolls in her hands. “Mommy came back with a new baby today,” she crooned. “Look.”
She held my doll upright, making the mother doll wrap her arms around her new daughter.
My shoulders melted. How different she looked from the petulant girl I’d met yesterday. I could understand why she might dislike me, but our encounter had been strange in so many ways. Why did she think she wasn’t pretty? Was it because she wore spectacles?
Her cheeks bloomed pink, rivaling the petals of fresh spring peonies, and she had cat eyes, wily and bright. Even her hair was lustrous like her mother’s, secured into two plump buns on the sides of her head, ribbons dangling.
“Mommy will take care of you,” Lily said to the doll. “It’s hard feeling at home in a new place, but a story helps.” She opened one of her many books. “How about I tell you a story?”
A lump swelled in my throat. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.
I’d seen enough. Best to get away before my breath ran out. I swung toward the stairs when I heard the floor creak.
Sai Ma appeared in the hallway carrying a tray of leftovers from last night’s dinner. The hem of her cheongsam brushed against the floor as she approached her daughter’s room.
I pressed my back to the wall, careful not to make a sound.
Sai Ma entered Lily’s bedroom without knocking.
“Do I have to go back to school, Mama?” Lily asked. “I don’t like it there. The other girls are cruel to me, one of them even scratched—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Lily. We’ve been through this.”
“Please?” Lily’s eyes were welling with tears, her cheeks wet. “Mama? I’ll stay inside all day, I promise. I just want to come home.”
“You already come home once a week.”
“Please, I’ll be good, I won’t—”
“You’ll come home when you’re sixteen. Once you’ve finished your studies.”
“Sixteen? But that’s years from now.” Lily’s voice trembled. “Please—”
“Enough,” said Sai Ma, cutting her off. “A good daughter is obedient. A good daughter does not question her parents’ intentions. This is what’s best for you.”
Lily fell silent. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.
Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five . . .
My shadow flickered across the walls, and when I heard the click of Sai Ma turning the key to lock Lily’s door, my panic mounted.
I hurried down the stairs, my hand clamped over my mouth as my air ran out.
I lost my breath when I arrived on the landing, and my shadow appeared on the parquet, giving me away.
“What are you doing on the stairs?” Sai Ma asked, looking down at me from the top of the stairwell.
I practically jumped. “Is . . . is Lily all right?”
My stepmother’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
Was it my imagination, or did Sai Ma sound different? Her tone was brusque, stripped of its usual gentleness.
“I . . . I was worried she hasn’t eaten,” I lied.
“Oh.” Sai Ma’s voice softened. “What a good sister you are, Yut Ying. Not to concern yourself, I brought her breakfast.”
She descended, meeting me on the second floor. Her hand still rested on the railing. “Did Tingting bring you and Syun Kit the soup?”
“She did,” I replied. Yi Gor wouldn’t touch it, but I’d forced myself to drink every drop.
“You must take care of your health, it’s the most important thing we can do for ourselves.
” She patted my shoulder, leaning down, even though in her platformed slippers she towered a mere inch above me.
“I wanted to tell you, I got a new record in the city yesterday. It’s Yeung An Nie’s newest song, shall we listen together? ”
I hesitated. Any other time, I would have jumped at the chance to finally spend time with her, but I couldn’t forget my encounter with Lily.
Then you’re a liar, she had said. You’ll fit right in here.
I brushed aside my doubts. Sai Ma had been nothing but kind to me. I couldn’t fathom that she would be anything less to her own daughter. She must be exhausted, I reasoned. It had to be uncomfortable, growing an entire baby inside her.
“I’d love to listen with you,” I replied.
“Good.” Sai Ma patted me on the shoulder. She paused at the parlor door. “I forgot to tell you, we keep this room locked when it isn’t in use.”
I lowered my gaze to the bronze lock. “Why?”
“It’s a precaution we started during the war.
Even in a neighborhood as safe as Happy Valley, you’ll hear about thieves breaking into houses, stealing valuables, and worse.
” Sai Ma dropped her voice as she closed the door behind us.
“I keep a spare key under the bauhinia tree. Not even Susu or Tingting know about it, but I like you, Yut Ying, and I trust you. You mustn’t tell anyone. Promise?”
It was an innocent question, yet the cadence of her words sounded extra heavy, extra laden with intent. Whose side will you choose? she seemed to ask.
The sunlight fell behind Sai Ma, painting her awash with gold. She looked as lovely as the goddess of benevolence herself, and caught in the spell of her beauty, I forgot to wonder what the other side might be.
“I promise.”