The decade was ending, and uncertainty crackled in the air like the static between radio stations. My family wasn’t unaffected. Neighbors had heard the gunshot Yi Gor fired and spied the black Renault that’d mysteriously come and gone from our driveway. Rumors danced about us despite Gu Ma’s desperate attempts to quell them. As a result, everyone went out less, and the house was full even when I returned from the factory. At dinner, Baba and Sai Ma talked together as though I weren’t there.
Gu Ma had become withdrawn, her mood affected by frequent episodes of indigestion that Baba also shared, while Sai Ma pretended nothing had changed. She groused on about this or that perceived slight and how much her back hurt from carrying Richard. She waxed on about the new wallpaper she’d selected for the parlor, yet she never brought up the bloodstains or the gun or the trickle of policemen that’d come searching the room before Gu Ma bribed them away. It was as Yi Gor had predicted—the whole incident had been scrubbed from existence, to the point that even my brother was no longer mentioned, and Tingting had been dismissed. I never saw her again.
I missed my old dinners alone. With my family around, I couldn’t stay out late to see Tommy or practice disappearing while I cooked Gu Ma’s supper. I became a ghost in the house, half here and half not, yet always unwanted.
Then one evening, the conversation abruptly veered toward me.
“Yut Ying is the year of the rooster,” Sai Ma commented, biting into a piece of chicken. “How quickly the seasons have changed—she must be seventeen already.”
“Sixteen,” said Baba, whose mind was always more lucid after suffering an upset stomach, for Sai Ma withheld his pipe and he was too enervated to pick it up himself. “What of it?”
“She’s lived with us for four years, shouldn’t we discuss her future?” Sai Ma said.
Baba frowned. “I’ve told you my thoughts on the matter.”
What are your thoughts?I wanted to ask, but I kept my head down.
“We can’t keep sheltering her forever. Even Syun Kit has left. Shouldn’t we—”
“This isn’t the time,” Baba interrupted. “You’ve heard the news.”
“The news?” Sai Ma tapped her fingers against her chin. “Surely you don’t think that Mao Zedong will invade Hong Kong?”
Baba stared at her, and I wondered if he was thinking about my mother, his first wife, who would have known the answer.
Gu Ma was quiet too. With a shaky hand, she lit a new cigarette. Usually she went through a pack a day, but lately the ashtrays couldn’t be emptied fast enough, and a trail of white stubs littered the garden. Her teeth had turned cola brown, her eyes sunken like Baba’s. “Someone pour me more tea.”
“Do you have another headache, sister-in-law?” said Sai Ma as she obliged. “This is why I never like talking about politics.Headaches will give you wrinkles, and wrinkles will turn your hairs gray like dead roots.”
Gu Ma’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I look old?”
“I’m saying, perhaps we should find a way to ease your concerns. Perhaps by bolstering our family ties.”
“What are you talking about?” Gu Ma huffed.
“I’ve been thinking we should find your niece a husband.”
I choked on my rice.What?
“I ran into Mrs. Tsang the other day in Bastion’s, and she mentioned that her son is looking for a wife.”
“James,” remembered Gu Ma. She bit into a dried persimmon slice and, unconsciously, I did the same. “He’s finished studying in England?”
“He’s only just begun,” Sai Ma corrected. “He’s planning to become a barrister.”
“Abroad? Impressive.”
“Indeed. The Tsangs would be good allies to have.”
Gu Ma chewed, then lifted her cigarette, considering. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper tea. Perhaps we should invite the Tsangs to yum cha.”
“A brilliant idea.” Sai Ma darted a glance at my father. “What do you think?”
No one asked whatIthought. I was clenching the edge of my seat, my insides roiling like a boiling kettle. I couldn’t let this pass. I would speak up.
“They’re a respectable family,” Baba allowed.
Right as I was about to open my mouth, Sai Ma and I locked eyes. “You ought to come, Yut Ying,” she said, extra loudly. Her lips curved, forming a perfect crescent as she delivered the crushing blow: “I think James and your sister will get along quite nicely.”
