“And where did you…” I felt too embarrassed to finish my sentence.
So Mother finished it for me. “Meng Ning, silly girl, you’re a painter, right? So you must know there’re different angles to paint an object. So, by the same logic…there’s also more than one way to-” She gulped down her tea and made a face. “To do you-know-what.”
“Then what happened to him after that?”
“He said the consulate had to transfer him back to America. But of course he lied, for I saw him twice, by accident, several months after, with other women. When I tried to accost him, he pretended not to recognize me.”
“I’m sorry…Where was I when all this happened?”
“At school, where do you think you’d be? You went to afternoon school, remember? It was cheaper.”
“So he’s…little brother’s father?”
Mother shrugged.
“Ma! What do you mean? Yes or no?”
Mother nodded.
“Did you tell him that?”
“No chance. I tried to, but never made it. The guard by the consulate’s entrance never let me in.”
“Did Baba know about this?”
“I don’t know-maybe yes, maybe no. Of course I didn’t have the chance to tell him either.”
“But couldn’t he tell the baby was Eurasian?”
“Possibly, but not necessarily. Your little brother was only three days old when he died. How can one tell with a three-day-old?”
I suspected that Father had known, at least sort of. Otherwise how could he have taken little brother’s death so lightly? I’d never considered that little brother’s death, instead of a punishment for her love with Father, as I’d always guessed, was in fact the karma for her love with a gweilo.
Mother sighed. “Hai! Meng Ning, you understand now why your marrying a gweilo worries me?”
I didn’t respond. A meditative silence, then she asked, tentatively, “Meng Ning, do you…despise your mother now?”
In fact, I didn’t, not at all. Strangely enough, after I’d learned the secret, I even felt happy for Mother. Now at least her life didn’t seem that miserable after all. She’d had some fun. Besides, I also admired her. This took courage, didn’t it? Especially when it happened almost twenty years ago when Hong Kong people were very closed-minded and any contact with gweilos was considered wicked.
I patted her hand. “Ma, I’m sorry…”
To my utter surprise, Mother said, looking almost cheerful, “But I’m not.”
“Because you loved this James?”
“No, because…I had a good time.”
Another silence, then I said, “Ma, I’ve always thought Baba was your first and only love.”
Again, she surprised me. “He still is. Jim Si was only a small American adventure.”
I put my arm around her. “You know what? When I said sorry, actually I didn’t mean it. In fact, I feel happy for you. And…”
Just then I remembered something. I dashed into the bedroom, snatched out the jade bracelet from my handbag, then hurried back to Mother.
“Ma, I hope this will make you more happy.” I felt choked with emotion as I handed her the bracelet.
“Meng Ning, where did you get it?” Mother scrutinized the jade, looking both surprised and pleased.
I told her it was a gift from Michael.
Mother caressed it with her plump, callused hands.
“What do you think? You like it?”
“It’s a decent piece. But I think Grandma’s one was better, greener and more translucent.”
“Ma, try it on.”
“But it’s yours.”
“No, it’s too loose for me. So it’s now for you.”
But the bracelet refused to slip onto her wrist-it was too small.
Simultaneously we sighed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, now feeling completely drained.
Mother looked at me affectionately. “Meng Ning, you’re such a lucky girl. This Mic Ko, you’d better be nice to him and treasure him as Grandma treasured her jade bracelet.”
“You’re not worried anymore?”
“Ah, Meng Ning, silly girl. Look at all this Mic Ko has done for you, even before you’re married to him. Grandma was right, she could see that you’d fall in love with a nice man, marry, have many children and a good life.” The corners of her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Besides, you’ve been worrying about money and haven’t found a job yet, and Hong Kong will soon go back to China, so it’s good that this Mic Ko comes along now, not to mention he’ll give you free medical care!”
“Ma, you think I’m marrying Michael because of this?”
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s still a bonus that he’s an American and a doctor, don’t you think?” Then she added, widening her eyes, “But, still, be careful. This Mic Ko is still a gweilo after all!”
We laughed.
“Meng Ning, about the bracelet. Why don’t you donate it to that pretty nun who always appears on television?”
“You mean Yi Kong?”
“Whatever you call her.”
“But I thought you didn’t like her.”
“Ah, silly girl. I disliked her because I feared you’d follow her to be a nun.” Mother made a face. “In fact, I like her now; she’s so pretty and gave you so much help. So I think we should pay her back by donating this to her temple. Besides, we can also accumulate more merit-”
“But, Ma…How do you know that she helped me?”
“Ah, you think your mother’s a stupid old woman, eh? Of course I knew, I just didn’t want to embarrass you. How could you have had the money to pay for your father’s funeral, and pay back the debt to the Big Ear Hole? Of course I know. I always do.” Mother winked. “Like your grandma, I have a third eye.”
39. Ten Thousand Miles of Red Dust
Two days later, I rode the train to Golden Lotus Temple, passing the sights that had become familiar to me since my teens. But this time I was seeing Yi Kong to announce my wedding. How would she react-angry? worried? detached? Would she agree to conduct a Buddhist wedding for me? I also had determined to donate my jade bracelet to the nunnery, for this was to accumulate merit for Michael, Mother, and me.
I had called Golden Lotus Temple and asked for Enlightened to Emptiness. After I’d told her my wish to visit Yi Kong, she said, “You’ve got perfect timing, Miss Du.” Her voice sent waves of vibration to me from the other end of the line. “For Yi Kong Shifu has just returned from Suzhou this morning.”
Before I had a chance to ask what the purpose of the trip was, the novice’s enthusiasm again swelled in my ear. “This time Shifu has brought back several architects to build an imitation Suzhou rock garden for our temple.”
But wasn’t the nunnery in financial difficulty after its benefactor had disappeared? I thought, but stopped myself from asking.
Yi Kong was already waiting for me when I entered her office.
“Hello, Meng Ning,” she said, looking up at me. Her face beamed, her hands choreographing several tiny antique Buddha figures on her desk. “Please sit down.”
I sat down in front of her large wooden desk. Amidst her curios were set a teapot and two cups; rose petals floated on the steaming amber liquid. The aroma reached into my nostrils, then seemed to travel down my esophagus and deep into my chest. Beside the tea set was a ceramic plate with nuts piled into a small mountain.
Yi Kong said, “Let’s have tea.” As we sipped our tea and nibbled on the nuts, I started to give an initial report of my work at Anyue, then our conversation drifted around her work, her art collection, and her recent trip to China.
I’d been expecting her, as usual, to lecture me on the illusion of human passion and the delusion of human love. But, to my surprise, after we’d finished our second round of tea, she spoke not a single word related to these. Just when I was wondering if maybe this was the right moment to bring up my marriage, she flashed a lighthearted smile. And, instead of posing her usual question, When are you coming to play with us? she said, “You look good, Meng Ning. When are you getting married?”