Around us, guests take guesses about what June will pick from a variety of objects in front of her. When June makes her first crawling movement, everyone grows quiet in anticipation, all of us watching with eager eyes to see what she’ll do.
June moves her left hand forward, and there are a few gasps in the crowd.
“She’s going to be an editor!” Olivia’s sister Nina whispers to her husband when June inches closer to the pencil.
“Come on, June, don’t pick the tomato,” Jack says under his breath.
June turns to the right, instigating more chatter. She propels herself forward, grabbing the tomato pin cushion. She clings to it, her grip tight. Then, in a final burst of energy, she bolts through the line of objects and makes her way to the coffee table. She thrusts her arm toward a set of keys and pulls them down to the ground. Settling back into a sitting position, June has the tomato and keys in her lap.
Olivia and her auntie squeal with delight. “It’s the keys to LunarLove!” Olivia tells everyone. “She’s going to take over Lunar Love one day and be a matchmaker like her mama, Auntie, and my Pó Po! And be a fashion designer. She’s a person of many talents!”
Jack lets out a long exhale and rolls up his sleeves. “Ready? You distract Olivia and baby June,” he whispers.
I hold my hand out to stop him. “Jack! We’re not stealing an object from a baby. We’ll need to find something else, but first can we acknowledge how unreal that was? We witnessed fate at work.”
“Are you crying?” Jack asks, turning his focus from the lost object back to me.
I wipe a tear from my eye. “Truthfully, I wish I had more tears in me to shed. It’s overwhelming to see something like that.”
A smile plays at the corner of Jack’s lips. “It’s overwhelming to watch a baby pick up something? Technically, she picked up two things. Does she at least now get to have a choice? This can’t possibly dictate the course of her life. All of those objects didn’t even account for every career possibility.” Jack shakes his head. “She probably went for it because it was shiny and in her line of sight. Why are those keys even within reach for a baby? Those can be used as weapons.”
I make a face at him. “Do not ruin this for me, Jack. I love this tradition. I did it as a baby.”
We head out to the backyard, where there are long-life noodles, dumplings, cut fruit, and Ox-shaped cake being served on Chinese zodiac–themed plates for June’s party.
“Are you serious? That actually makes a lot of sense. What did you pick? Wait, let me guess. You picked a sketchbook,” Jack speculates.
“Close! I picked a paintbrush,” I reveal. “My mom did it as a baby, too. She picked a tube of paint. We were both destined to become artists.”
“You don’t think you became an artist because you were around art all your life? Saw your mom as a working artist?” Jack asks.
“It’s not like my mom only laid out art supplies to choose from,” I say. “I had an assortment of objects, apparently. I don’t remember the specifics because, you know, my brain couldn’t form memories.”
Jack laughs. “Sounds like a momentous day.”
I place my hands on my hips. “What do you think you would’ve picked if you’d had a zhua zhou ceremony?”
Jack shrugs. “I can’t imagine my parents doing anything like this.”
“But if they had?”
“It would’ve been biased from the start,” he says, convinced. “They’re astronomers. There’d have been telescopes and star charts exclusively. Fate didn’t stand a chance.”
“I see.” I nudge Jack’s arm and nod toward the cake. “What’s your sign?”
“I think I’m a Goat. You?”
“Interesting. I’m a Pig. Do you relate to your traits?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I have no clue.”
“Me neither. Want cake?” I reach for the piece that looks like the Ox’s ear. Jack grabs what appears to be the nose.
The cooler September temperatures are much more appropriate for my knitwear. Still, it’s no New York City fall. We spot a couple of yellow chairs to sit in positioned under red- and cream-colored lanterns swaying from an olive tree. I’m watching guests mingle in the yard when something reflective catches my eye in the grass.
I stand to pick it up. It’s a Natural History Museum ID for someone named Lucy. “Unless this person is still here, this can be our lost object!”
Jack doesn’t look impressed. “It’s too easy. We know the who, what, where.”
