"Their daughter is Asian too. I think it's more likely because they're rich and have more family, not loners like us."
Then husband and wife wondered if they should cancel the agreement on Taotao's guardianship they'd signed with the Mitchells. They decided not to, because they were uncertain who, beside Janet and Dave, could treat Taotao better if both of them died. They had best let the matter stay as it was. This wasn't equal, they both agreed, a little mortified, but they had no choice. To make the whole thing worse, Mr. Shang, the attorney who had prepared the papers for them, had left Chinatown and nobody knew his whereabouts. The Wus had thought of informing the Mitchells of Mr. Shang's disappearance, but now they changed their minds and preferred to put the matter on the back burner for the time being. They only hoped that nothing fatal would happen to them before their son reached eighteen.
At the restaurant two weeks later, when Nan told Janet that he couldn't be Hailee's nominal father, she said, "Don't worry. Hailee has three godfathers already." Janet had been so happy these days that her eyes couldn't stop smiling, making them less round than before.
The mention of the triple godfatherhood surprised the Wus. Pingping asked her friend, "How many godmothers she has?" "Four, yourself included." "My goodness, why so many?" "We want to share Hailee with friends."
A lull ensued. Both Pingping and Nan were perplexed, as the idea of sharing one's child with other people was utterly alien to them. This multiple godparenthood also indicated that the Mitchells hadn't been serious about the nominal parents they wanted the Wus to be, because, by definition, a nominal father or mother was almost like a child's other parents and at least should be treated as a family member. That's why a child mustn't have more than one nominal mother or father. Pingping was glad Nan had declined the Mitchells' request.
A young mestizo, a temporary roofer, came up to the counter, and Nan turned to take his order.
"I want to show you something," Pingping said to Janet.
"What?"
Pingping went behind the counter, pulled open a drawer, and took out a thin notebook. She came back to Janet and opened the first page, proudly displaying a red cut-paper duck. "I made this for you. It's my mother's type."
"My, this is gorgeous! Is it really for me?"
"Yes."
Janet touched the duck gently with her forefinger as if afraid to break it. Indeed, the duck was not only delicate and lifelike but also in motion, with its feathers ruffled by a breeze and with waves of water beneath it. More striking, it carried a pair of tiny ducklings under its wing. Anyone could see that the scissor-work in this piece was clean and elegant, much superior to that in the paper cuttings the Mitchells had. Janet enthused, "Look at the duck's eye! Even with exquisite lids. You're a true artist, Pingping."
"I wish I can make more. My sister can do better than me because my mother like to teach her more often. I'm oldest daughter, so I always work."
"Here's an idea, you should open a studio."
"For what?"
"Teaching people how to create art with paper and scissors."
"I don't like to teach, you know that. Before I leave China, I swear I will never be teacher again."
When Nan returned, he put a carton of roast pork rice into a plastic bag, placed it on the counter, and threw in a few napkins and a spork for the customer. Instead of rejoining his wife, he sat down and resumed looking through Consumer Reports while listening in on the ladies. After they talked awhile about the art of paper cuttings, Janet told Pingping, "I've enrolled in the Chinese class at Emory. God, the language is so hard to learn. No wonder you Chinese are so patient and industrious."
"Why you want to study it?"
"I want to teach my daughter. She should know her mother tongue."
"Why? She will grow up speak English like American."
"But Chinese is her heritage. We ought to help her keep it."
"I have idea. Why don't you hire Chinese babysitter? Hailee can learn the language with her easily?"
"No. According to the experience of some adoptive parents, that's the last thing you should do."
"Why? It's good way to learn Chinese, I'm sure."
"You know, the adoption of a child is actually mutual. Hailee has also adopted us, so Dave and I must also try to adjust. Dave wants to learn some Chinese too. From now on we'll celebrate the Moon Day and the Spring Festival."
Pingping didn't know how to respond to that. Later the Wus talked between themselves about the idea of "mutual adoption," and Nan believed that the Mitchells were right, though he doubted if they could ever speak Chinese, not to mention read and write the ideograms, which were almost impossible for non-native speakers to master.
10
ON THE NIGHT of July Fourth the Gold Wok was closed. Some people in the neighborhood went downtown to watch fireworks in spite of the overcast sky. The Wus stayed home, glad to have a break. Nan was lying in bed reading Frost's poetry. He was moved by the wise ending of the poem "Provide, Provide" and was contemplating how truthful the phrase "boughten friendship" was. Suddenly Ping-ping burst in and threw a sheet of brittle paper on his face. He sat up with a start and asked, "What's this about?"
"About you and your sweetheart. Disgusting!" Her mouth twisted as she was speaking. Then she spun around, marched out, and slammed the door shut.
Nan glanced at the paper and recognized it was a letter from Beina. He had kept it in the unabridged Webster's and had almost forgotten it. What must have maddened Pingping was that the letter was dated on November 12 without a year, as if it had been written recently. In it Beina asked him to help her with the application fees at three American graduate schools. He had paid $140 for her but hadn't heard a word from her afterward.
He went into the living room, where his wife, lying on a sofa, had been singing in English repeatedly, "I love you. You love me. We're a happy family!" Though she covered her face with a towel that had just come out of the dryer, her voice was sharp and crazed. Nan stepped over and touched her upper arm, shaded by downy hair that he always liked to caress. He said, "Come now, don't be so paranoid. That's an old letter. I haven't heard from her for almost eight years."
She paused to stare at him. He kept on, "I really have no contact with her."
"But you tried to bring her to America!" Pingping raged, dropping the towel to the floor. "Who knows? You're a big liar. Maybe you're still thick with her like before. You always do things behind my back."
"Honestly, I'm not in touch with her and have no idea where she is."
"Leave me alone! You spent our sweat money on that heartless woman. If she were good to you, I wouldn't complain. You're just bewitched by that fox spirit."
"Like I said, this was before you came to America."
"I see, you really meant to bring her here. If I hadn't come and joined you, you would've lived with her instead."
"This is crazy. She just used me."
"But you like being used by her and always miss her. You're so cheap that the worse she treats you, the nicer you'll be to her."
Their son stepped into the living room and listened to them. Nan told Taotao to go away, but the boy wouldn't leave. Nan begged Ping-ping, "Don't be so nasty. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept the letter."
"Why not? That's your receipt for the favor she owes you. She'll do something in return one of these days. But why didn't you hide it in a secret place? I don't care what you do on the sly as long as you don't let me know."