“What should I get?” she asked.
“Pick your favorite. Remember, I’m buying.”
Grace blinked. “What I mean is, I don’t know what these things are. I’ve never eaten Chinese food.”
“Where did you say you’re from?” Ruby pried.
“I didn’t say, but I’m from Plain City, Ohio,” she answered, guarded.
“Is it one of those places that’s too small to have a Chinese restaurant?” I inquired.
“Only about two thousand people live there, so I guess so,” she replied.
“Cripes!” Ruby exclaimed.
I shook my head in disbelief. The population of San Francisco’s Chinatown was ten times that, and the larger city surrounded it.
“I’ve never been to a place where you couldn’t get Chinese food.” After a pause, I asked, “Didn’t your mother make it?”
“No.”
“That’s shocking!”
Grace put her purse on the floor.
“My mother says you must never do that,” Ruby chastised.
“Mine too,” I agreed. “Do you want all your money to run out of your purse?”
Grace blushed and quickly set the purse back on her lap. “We don’t have that custom in Plain City,” she said. After an uncomfortable silence, she added, “You haven’t told us anything about you yet, Helen.”
“I grew up a block from here,” I answered. “Baba’s in the laundry business-”
Grace brightened. “My family has a laundry too.”
“My father doesn’t run a laundry.” That came out haughtier than I intended, and I could see the change in Grace’s expression. I tried again, flecking my voice with jasmine petals. “My baba is a merchant. He sells supplies to laundries: claim tickets, washboards, irons. Things like that. Not just to the mom-and-pops in this city, but to laundries all around the country.”
The whole time I spoke, I searched Grace’s face. She’d pulled away, but the look in her eyes! Her family’s laundry was probably some little hole in the wall in that dinky town of hers.
“My parents are very traditional,” I continued. “Filial piety begins with serving your parents, which leads to serving the emperor (in our case, the president), which ends in establishing your character.” Apparently, Grace wasn’t familiar with that aphorism either. “I wasn’t allowed to take dance classes, as you know. My brothers and I could speak only Chinese at home. I wasn’t permitted to play on the street or in the park. I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’ve never even had a girl from school come to my house.”
“I’m practically in the same boat friend-wise,” Grace admitted.
We glanced at Ruby. She lifted a shoulder. Agreement?
“I have seven brothers, and my dad wished for an eighth son,” I told them. “He hoped to get the sound ba-for eight, which sounds the same as good luck. He wanted to walk through Chinatown and have everyone recognize him for his successful business and his eight sons. Instead, I came along and ruined everything.”
The waiter set down three bowls of steaming soup noodles. Ruby and I picked up our chopsticks and used them to bring the long noodles to our lips.
“Mama had eight children in ten years,” I picked up after the waiter left. “She kept trying for an eighth son, but after me she only had miscarriages and stillborns. It’s hard for girls like us. Boys can go to college, but Baba says, ‘A woman without education is better than a woman with education.’ ” Neither of them seemed to recognize the Confucian saying. “We also aren’t allowed to drive. We shouldn’t show our arms. We can’t show our legs. We’re supposed to learn to cook, clean, sew, embroider-”
“Then how can you dance now?” Grace asked, fingering her chopsticks. “Didn’t you say you can’t do anything in Chinatown without people finding out about it?”
“And what about your brother?” Ruby chimed in. “Won’t he tell?”
I had to think about how to answer them. Today was my first foray into the world of lying. Tell the truth, but not too much of it.
“If Baba finds out, I’ll be in real hot water,” I answered at last. “But Monroe won’t tell on me, because he wants to change his life too. He’s studying to be an engineer, but he’s worried he’s going to end up working as a janitor or a houseboy. Something like that happened to another of my older brothers. Jackson was the first in our family to go to college. He graduated two years ago-one of twenty-eight American-born Chinese to graduate from Cal that year-as a dentist. Now the only job he can get is as a chauffeur for a woman who lives in Pacific Heights.”
A look passed between Ruby and Grace. College? An engineer? A dentist? I bet the chauffeur part sounded pretty good to them too, but I didn’t see it that way.
“Baba makes plenty of sweat money in this country, but he says this isn’t our real home and that we shouldn’t live where we aren’t welcome. If one of my brothers gets upset because someone on the street taunted him, calling ‘chink, chink, chink,’ then Baba says, ‘See? I told you so. Go look in the mirror. Your eyes automatically tell you this is not your home.’ ”
Ruby opened her mouth to speak, but I rolled right over her. “Baba complains that my brothers are too Americanized. He says, ‘You might be Americanized, but you’ll never be accepted as Americans, even though you were born here.’ After that, he criticizes them for not being Chinese enough, because they were born here. We all were.”
Look who was cheung hay now!
“But you can’t argue with my baba,” I continued, unable to stop myself. “It wouldn’t be right. He said he wanted my brothers and me to learn proper Chinese for when we went back to China for good. For months, he went around to the laundries that he supplies. He asked for their old rags, clothes that hadn’t been collected, worn-out shoes, hardware, and junk-”
“I had to wear unclaimed laundry too,” Grace cut in. “In elementary school, the girls taunted me when they recognized their castoffs. Once the kids caught me wearing Freddie Thompson’s old shirt under my jumper-”
“I bet they made fun of you then,” Ruby said.
“I’ll say. I went in the girls’ room, took off the shirt, and tried to give it back to Freddie, but he tossed it in the dirt, saying he didn’t want to touch anything that had been on a girl.”
“That’s what he said. He probably didn’t want to touch anything worn by an Oriental,” Ruby assessed shrewdly.
Grace nodded. “The boys spent the rest of recess throwing the shirt back and forth, teasing me, but teasing Freddie even worse. Freddie was a tough customer even when he was eight. He fought back.”
Grace was trying hard to fit in to the conversation-and Ruby was doing a good job making her feel comfortable-but I had to set them both straight. “I told you, we don’t have a laundry. I’ve never worn people’s leftovers, or anyone’s hand-me-downs for that matter. My baba packed all that trash in trunks, and we took it to China to give to our relatives.”
“Why would you do that?” Grace asked, sounding as unpolished as a servant-one brought in from the rice paddies to work in the landowner’s house: dumb, without an ounce of knowledge of how real people lived. But she’d been so nice to me and so open that I liked her despite her country innocence.
“The more trunks we had, the richer we looked,” I explained. “The more we gave away, the more important my father appeared. But fortune like that can be won and lost very quickly.” I turned and spoke directly to Ruby. “We were only there a year and a half before the Japanese invaded. Baba said it was better for us to come back here and be poor than stay there and be dead. President Roosevelt says times are getting better, but they still aren’t that good around here.”