Chapter Eight #2
“The problem is, it’s not enough for one of us to find a wife,” Eng said. “It has to be both or neither.”
“It’s too hard for people to accept two men in one woman’s bed,” Chang said.
I glanced at the two of them, and then at Addie, who looked away. “Isn’t that what you’re proposing?”
“Well, technically . . .” Eng’s voice trailed off.
“Technically, it would be two men in a bed with two women,” Chang said.
I couldn’t contain the alarm that crept into my voice. “Pardon?”
“Eng and I share one house. By necessity, we share one bed. We would expect our wives to share it too. But . . . while obviously
my brother and I are joined, we have developed a way of being together that allows for . . . privacy. We call it ‘alternate
mastery.’ ”
“But—what do you mean?” I asked.
“At a young age we learned to detach mentally—to go elsewhere in our minds. Otherwise, our condition would be intolerable.”
“Our wives will learn to do that too,” Eng said.
Chang squinted up at the dimming sky. When he spoke again, he used my formal name. “While we’re speaking candidly, I want to mention that we know about the scandal, Sarah. That the prospects for you both have been . . . shall we say, compromised.”
Addie gazed at me.
Eng rubbed his pant leg, as if to brush away dust.
“How do you—” I began.
“As I’m sure you are aware, people talk,” Chang said.
I felt his flintiness then, his calculation.
Eng smiled uneasily. I could sense the tension between them, as taut as the band that joined them. “Chang, we don’t care about
that.”
“No, no, of course.” Chang sighed. “We are aware that marrying us will entail some . . . challenges. But it may also be a
solution of sorts. Eng and I are fair-minded, experienced in the ways of the world. We are not easily scandalized.”
“Some say that marrying you would be a scandal,” Addie said.
“Many,” I added. “Many say that.”
“Our father says it,” Addie said.
Chang nodded. “Your father may feel that not marrying at all, or settling for husbands who are unworthy of you, is preferable
to marrying us. But that perspective is . . . unworldly.” He smiled as if to blunt the starkness of his words. “Over time,
you will see, our novelty will fade. Your father will relent. And you’ll have more security and opportunity than any other
ladies in the county.”
This offer, framed as a practical solution to our diminished prospects, had a stark logic. Romantic love wasn’t a prerequisite,
not for Eng and me, and possibly not even for Chang and Addie. There was a pragmatic honesty in that.
Before the day was out, news of our rendezvous had gotten back to Papa. “He must have told the field hands to spy on us,” Addie whispered angrily as we made our way downstairs to meet him in the parlor.
Papa was staring into the hearth as we came into the room, still wearing his broad-brimmed work hat, smudged with dirt. “You
girls are playing a dangerous game,” he said, pivoting to face us. “This notion that a union between—among—any of you is viable
is utterly preposterous.”
“We haven’t—” I began, but he barreled over me.
“Those boys bribed the county clerk to gain citizenship. They should not be allowed to vote, much less marry.”
“Well, however it happened, they are citizens, Papa,” Addie said.
“And they aren’t boys,” I added.
“It is not right,” he said. “Morally.”
“Morally?” Addie gave a tight-lipped smile. “You are a Quaker and Mama is a Baptist. You weren’t supposed to marry outside
your faith, and yet you did.”
He paused, clearly startled by her audacity. “That was completely different. And you are being disrespectful, Adelaide.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But since when do you care so much what people think? After all, you married Mama. She doesn’t resemble
anybody else you ever saw.”
Neither of us had ever discussed Mama’s condition with him beyond worrying about her headaches.
Papa sucked his teeth. “Your mother cannot help how she is.”
“Any more than Chang and Eng can,” Addie said evenly.
“It’s different, Adelaide. Those men are a—a perversion. I don’t know how to say it any other way.”
“How can you talk about perversion when—”
Papa locked eyes with her. “Allow me to be explicit. No modest girl would marry if the secrets of her bridal bed must be exposed,
as yours would have to be.”
“A modest girl will excuse what is necessary to become a mother.”
“Lord help us,” he said. “You may breed a race of Siamese twins. And what then? You’ll be forced to live cut off from the world, like the Gullahs in South Carolina.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Addie said.
“You don’t know. No one does.” He let out a harsh breath. “Even if your children’s bodies are normal, have you considered
their complexion?” He turned to me. “Do you really want to bring children into the world who will be marked from birth as
foreign? As colored?”
The question hung in the air, ugly and real.
I had never thought of Eng and Chang as colored—not exactly, not in the way Papa meant it, with all the barriers and constraints that word implied. The brothers were free
men, citizens, landowners.
And I hadn’t truly considered that our children might be gawked at, whispered about. That they wouldn’t look like anyone else
in our family.
Addie was having none of it. She folded her arms across her chest. “You made your own choices, Papa. Don’t deny us the same.”
“For God’s sake, Adelaide, there are ways to become a mother that don’t involve bringing dishonor upon the family.”
“The twins are not responsible for their physical condition. They should not have to die childless on account of it.”
“You are not responsible for their physical condition either. Nor is it your burden to carry.”
“Lest you forget, Papa, dishonor has already been visited on the family. We have to be realistic,” Addie continued in a reasonable
voice. “Sallie’s indiscretion does not affect her alone. My prospects, too, have dimmed.”
He removed his hat and rubbed his forehead. “What happened to Sallie was unfortunate. But this is like slaughtering a milk
cow during a dip in production. It’s too rash. You’re young. You will have choices.”
“I don’t want to settle for someone whose lack of prospects might endanger the health of your estate. Wouldn’t you rather I marry a man of equal or greater wealth? We shouldn’t be forced to compromise.”
“This is a compromise.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “You do business with Chang and Eng, Papa. You’ve dined with them a number of times.”
“It’s one thing to have a professional relationship with those men. It’s quite another to breed with them. To mix our family
blood with theirs.”
“How can you be so intolerant?”
“I can tolerate them. I do tolerate them. But I will not allow them to marry my daughters,” he said firmly. “Let this be the end of it. You are not
to leave this property. You may not see them again.”