Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Then where will you go?” Sui Chan asked.
I’d never forgotten how Lily and I used to dream together. I responded softly, “The Beautiful Country.”
“America? They don’t let in Chinese women. Not unless you’re married to one of them.”
I refused to believe my options were so bleak. “I don’t want to get married.”
“Then there’s no America.”
I bit my lip. “Even if I changed my mind, what kind of man would marry a girl he just met and bring her with him halfway across the world?”
“Plenty of men.” Sui Chan leaned toward me. “My husband has a friend from the States who happens to be visiting. He’s leaving in a few days, though.”
I knew that scheming look in her eye. “I don’t want to marry a gweilo,” I said. Bad enough I was considering marrying a stranger—it’d help if we could speak to each other.
“Do I look rich enough to know any gweilo?” Sui Chan said, laughing. “He’s Chinese—and recently widowed. I’ll bet he’s hoping to meet someone in Hong Kong.”
That made me pause. “He’s really from America?”
“You go and tell me if he’s a Yankee or not. Just don’t get your hopes up too high. He’s a cook, nothing fancy like a soymilk tycoon.”
“I’m done with tycoons.”
Sui Chan’s smile faltered. She looked concerned for me. “You still think about Tommy?”
“Of course not,” I lied. His memory was a bruise, fading more slowly than I would have liked.
“Philip is a nice man, give him a chance.” Taking my silence as agreement, Sui Chan patted my hand. “I’ll arrange a meeting.”
His name was Yuen Fu Keong, but he went by Philip. Sui Chan said he’d grown up in the Sze Yup district not far from Tunglam. There was a story to be told there, since he’d been born in the United States.
I could tell he liked me. Most men did when I took some effort in my appearance. That afternoon I curled my hair, I wore my best cheongsam and pinned a lace ribbon over the collar, I applied pink lipstick to my mouth. As an afterthought, I dabbed some on my cheeks, too.
We met at a park in Jordan, intending to sit on the benches and talk, but a sudden rain shower thwarted our plans, so we ran into the first restaurant we could find.
Philip invited me to order whatever I wished.
I could tell it was more expensive than he’d anticipated, though, by how he studied the menu and elected to only order a drink.
Wanting to make a good impression yet not embarrass him, I ordered a simple buttered toast and milk tea. As I patted my face dry, I gave him my most winsome smile. “It feels old-fashioned to have an arranged meeting like this. Sui Chan even told me your zodiac sign. You’re a—”
“Snake,” said Philip, wincing politely. “I prefer to call it a little dragon. And you’re a rooster.”
“I prefer to call it a little phoenix.”
We laughed, breaking some of the tension between us, when Philip started coughing.
“Are you all right?”
“Asthma,” he explained between breaths. “I’ve had it since I was a boy. It’s worse during the rain.”
“Can I get you water?”
“No, sit.” Philip suppressed another cough. “The air’s warm, it’s not so bad. Where I’m from, it’d be snowing by now.”
“I’ve never seen snow,” I admitted. “My mother’s from the North. She said it’s beautiful at first, falling soft like feathers, but soon enough you start begging God for it to melt.”
“That sounds about right.” Philip let out a dry laugh. “Our winters are bitter—you wouldn’t like them.”
“I’m stronger than I look,” I said, deliberately raising my eyes to his.
Philip became flustered. “I should tell you the truth, I didn’t come to Hong Kong to find a wife. That was my brother.”
“Your brother?”
“He was supposed to come to Hong Kong, but he fell ill before the trip. I came instead.”
“You came to choose a wife for him?”
“No. American laws are strict—a woman would have to be married before she can enter U.S. soil.” He stared into his coffee. “I came to see friends and buy ingredients for our restaurant.”
Oh. I couldn’t stop my shoulders from deflating. “Why’d you agree to this meeting?”
“Sui Chan was eager to arrange it. She said you were a lovely girl, and I didn’t want to be rude. Besides, I . . . I don’t know that many people in Hong Kong anymore.”
“She told me you’re a widower,” I said.
“Yes.” The word ached of loneliness.
There was still a chance, I thought. Did I dare take it?
I chewed on my toast and gathered my courage.
“A month on a ship is a long time to travel for a few jars of pepper and soya sauce,” I started.
“I’m glad you were able to see friends”—I rested my hand on the table, as close to his as I dared—“and make a new one.”
The smallest smile touched Philip’s mouth. “Sui Chan mentioned you wanted to leave Hong Kong.”
Silently I blessed my friend. “My relatives here don’t treat me well,” I explained honestly. “I want to move and get my mother out of China. The farther the better.”
“I see.” Philip glanced at our hands. He said, very quietly, “Would you want to come with me?”
I looked up, certain I’d misheard, and tilted my right ear toward him. “Say that again.”
“Would you want to come with me,” he repeated, “to America? I’m leaving in three days. My brother and I own a restaurant in the middle of the country. Kansas City—it’s in Missouri, not Kansas.”
I nodded as if that meant something, but inside, my thoughts were spinning. I couldn’t believe I’d changed his mind. “I thought you weren’t looking for a wife.”
“I didn’t think I’d find someone I’d like.”
“You hardly know me.”
“I have a good feeling.”
I wished I could say the same. Philip was sixteen years older than I was, the same difference between Baba and Sai Ma.
I wouldn’t call him handsome. The space between his eyes was unusually wide, his lips rather thin, and there was a mole on his neck with so many hairs sprouting out that it looked like a spider.
Yet there was a humbleness about him that was promising.
“You don’t have to say yes,” said Philip, sensing my hesitation. “You’re young and you’re beautiful . . .” He didn’t finish. “I wish there were more time for you to get to know me, but my trip is short. I don’t know when I’ll be returning.”
My heart is not so young, I thought, nor so beautiful. I twisted my hands together under the table. This was what I’d wanted. I couldn’t have second thoughts now.
“Do you smoke?” I asked.
I already knew the answer, for I smelled tobacco on his shirt.
“Cigarettes.” Not opium, he left unsaid.
“Do you drink?”
“Rarely.” When I furrowed my brow, he felt the need to explain, “Sometimes, with my friends. It gives me headaches—I don’t enjoy it.”
I fiddled with my teacup, biting back another question. Who was I looking for, the Buddha himself?
Hold your tongue and don’t chase wild dreams, Mama had told me long ago. Choose a good man who will take care of you and your children.
Was this the good man she had foreseen for me?
To hell with it, I couldn’t ask her, and I didn’t care. If anything went wrong, I would run away. I was good at that.
I had one last question. “Do you want a family?”
Philip leaned forward, his face bright under the lamp. “I’ve always wanted children,” he said slowly. “Life is better when you have someone to look after.”
They were words I couldn’t imagine my own father saying, and for that reason alone I agreed, “I will go with you.”
Philip finally drank, smiling as if he couldn’t quite believe it. In a way, I couldn’t either.
I picked up my cup and raised it to his.
I was going to America.