The Wondrous Woo Read online

  I stared at her back. Seeing her looking so lovely, her words so crisp and bright, I felt relieved. Here was Ma seeming healthy, happy, and offering to make me an herbal remedy so I could feel better. I was overwhelmed by the tangle of emotions.

  “Aw. You study too much, nui. Take it easy. I worry,” Ma said. She reached out her hand as if to brush my overgrown bangs out of my face, but I pulled back and she dropped it before it reached my skin. I could not bear the thought of her hand on me. If she did touch me, I thought, I felt like I would fall down and die. I hadn’t been touched by anyone in a long time, not since Sophia, and I still remembered how that had turned out.

  We spent an awkward afternoon alone together, not knowing what to say. Mainly, Ma had kept her back to me while she chopped at the counter and stirred at the stove. I realized that without Ba, we didn’t know how to fill in the silence. Luckily, Sophia’s arrival was like a hundred bees home to hive. She had just come back from a trigonometry conference at Berkeley, and was dressed from head-to-toe in lime green. She had woven plastic flowers in her new asymmetrical bobbed hair in an ode to San Francisco. She swept Ma and me up in a dramatic hug and raved to Ma about the condo. According to Sophia, it was trés chic.

  As I helped her unpack in the bedroom, Sophia announced in a stage whisper that she had a new boyfriend named Derek.

  “Benjamin turned out to be a complete loser,” Sophia claimed. “He broke it off with me after his wife decided she was through with travelling and took up a desk job in Montreal. Derek, on the other hand, is scrumptious,” she said, quickly skipping over this gap. “You’ll be happy, Mir. He’s only twenty-one, five years older.” She paused meaningfully. She did not bring up the tension of our last visit, and I wasn’t going to either. “I met him at the Tête-à-Tête, a sandwich joint on St. Laurent Boulevard.”

  According to Sophia, he was the six-foot-three version of Prince. Elegantly androgynous and thoroughly francophone, she loved the Jheri curls that hung out of his hairnet while he made her a croque-monsier. He adored her franglish. He was, appropriately, a musician. An experimental Acid Jazz saxophonist to be exact. The sandwich gig was just to allow him to continue his craft.

  “He has great lips,” Sophia asserted. “But don’t tell Ma,” she added, pretending to turn a lock with her fingers against her lips. I resigned myself to the fact that Sophia was going to do whatever Sophia wanted. At least this guy wasn’t married.

  Then Darwin finally arrived. I hardly recognized him. He was easily a full foot taller than he had been the year before, and had acquired a face full of acne. He was dressed the way boys apparently dressed in London: boxy shirt, tapered jeans, and small, square-framed glasses. I hoped there would be a Star Wars T-shirt beneath it all, but somehow I knew that was not the case. Still, I was elated to see him and threw my arms around him at the door. He gave me a short squeeze then let go. “Hi, Mir,” he said quietly.

  “You sound … different,” I said. I wanted to make a fuss over him hitting puberty, but realized he was embarrassed.

  “I know,” he said. “My voice hurts even me to listen to, so I won’t be saying much until it’s sorted itself out. Now that I’m used to having perfect pitch, this is like the worst thing that could happen to me.” He gave a short honk of a laugh and trudged down the hall to where Ma said his room was.

  With him in one room and Sophia in another, and Ma in the kitchen, I stood alone in the hallway hearing only the distant whir of an air compressor.

  Darwin said he had to practice, so Ma, Sophia, and I left to shop for groceries in Chinatown. The shops were teeming with people, all preparing for the holiday. Ma outlined in detail the dishes she would make for us as we grabbed a cart and dove into the grocery store. My mouth watered as we walked through the rows of noodles: rice, wheat, thick, and thin. Ma’s menu seemed endless: lobster smothered with ginger and scallions, steamed sea bass in wine, turnip and taro cakes dotted with dried shrimp, pork dumplings, and fried e-fu noodles in oyster sauce.

  While we stood by the tanks full of live fish, Ma announced, “We’re having a guest for dinner.”

  “What? Who?” Sophia demanded. Her prickles went up, and rightly so as the actual big night was always reserved for just family. Ma calmly took the newspaper-wrapped fish from the fish hawker. If there was a man in the picture, I never imagined we would be introduced to him. We did not know how to handle this “mother and her new boyfriend” kind of situation.

  “Just a friend from church, a nice man,” Ma answered, waving her hand dismissively.

  “Man?” Sophia and I asked in unison, and then out of habit, we added, “Jinx!”

  “Yes, a church friend,” Ma continued as we walked towards the cashier. “His name is William K.C. Koo. He owns the condo.”

  “So, is this your, like, boyfriend?” Sophia’s face soured, while Ma’s turned a furious shade of red. She did not answer, handing us food to place on the conveyor belt instead. She was seemingly in a good place, but I didn’t want to push just in case there would be another New Year’s blowout. I hoped Sophia would behave.

  The rest of the day, we pretended there wasn’t a William K.C. Koo looming. We all helped Ma cook and adopted a jaunty cheer. Since I had nothing new to report, and Darwin refused to talk, it was up to Sophia to chatter, and chatter she did, filling in cracks and corners with her voice enough for it to become white noise. We settled into a comfortable rhythm, listening to Sophia’s tales and following Ma’s orders. It was soothing, being her sous-chefs, something we had always enjoyed even when we were very young.

  Soon, the condo was filled with the smell of sizzling garlic and onions, and the lighter scent of ginger above that. Surrounded by these smells of home, it was almost easy to forget about my real life, which, frankly, did not smell as nice.

  After dinner was prepped, I went to see Darwin in his guest room, painted creamy white just like the rest of the place. “Dar, how’s it going?”

  He was sitting on one of the beds, fingering some fast lick on a trumpet. “Fine,” he said, without looking up. Inside of that one word, his voice pitched high then dove low. Poor kid. I wondered how long it would take to deepen and feel normal to him.

  “I got all your letters. The tour sounded really great,” I offered.

  “Yeah. It was great.” He still would not look up at me, his fingers rapidly pushing and releasing the valves on his silver horn. “Why didn’t you write back?“

  “I did when I could. What do you mean?” I asked.

  He finally lifted his head. “You. Didn’t. Call. Or. Even. Send. Me. A. Card. For. My. Birthday.” He enunciated each word patiently as if I were a lip-reader.

  My mind scrambled. Dar’s birthday. January 3rd. Oh, shit. How did I let it slip?

  “I’m sorry, Darwin. I really am. God, I don’t know how I forgot.” I felt really bad. I could see it had hurt him. He shrugged and went back to his trumpet.

  “Darwin, let me make it up to you, okay? I’ll take you out for a celebration dinner tomorrow. You can invite Sophia and Ma if you want. Or just you and me. Anywhere you want,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “Can’t. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. Have to get back to London to play with the symphony. A Royal attendance.” Among everything else happening in his voice, I detected a note of sarcasm.

  “Oh.”

  “Forget it,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  How was I to tell him that I was worried about it? What was wrong with me? I thought about other birthdays, which now all felt like they were a hundred years ago. Darwin loved Chuck E. Cheese parties and ice cream. Sophia always had to have dounuts. Egg rolls and chicken balls for me, which Ma had called fake Chinese food. Cake and candles. Balloons. Photos. Sophia, Darwin, Ma, Ba, and me. Ba.

  “Look, I have to practice,” Darwin said, dismissing me.

  “But I haven’t heard a sound o
ut of your room in three hours!”

  He just stared at me with eyes full of anger.

  “Oh, okay.” I got up and left the room. My stomach felt like poured concrete.

  Chapter 18 ~

  Miu knew that sometimes you had to entertain the enemy at your table. The only thing left was to decide which poison would go best with the roasted pork. Perhaps mask the flavour of arsenic with too much soya sauce?

  AT EXACTLY FIVE O’CLOCK the buzzer sounded. Everything was almost ready. Ma whipped off her apron, patted her hair, and rushed out to answer the door. Sophia and I just looked at each other while Darwin joined us in the kitchen and poked at the cooked lobster’s eyes. We heard murmurs of a man’s voice.

  “I guess we should go out there and meet this guy,” Sophia hissed.

  “The guy she told me about?” Darwin asked.

  “Yeah. Ma’s got a boyfriend,” Sophia answered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Darwin whined. Poor Darwin. He winced every time he heard himself speak.

  We walked out of the kitchen in single file: eldest first, youngest last. In the living room, a tall man with hair that waved to the left side, stood with Ma who was holding an enormous bundle of yellow lilies. He was dressed in a jacket and tie, and pants that had a crease pressed into them. He also sported a pair of rectangular black-framed glasses. When he saw us, he smiled broadly, revealing straight white teeth. Oh my God, I didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. Ma was dating the Chinese Clark Kent.

  “Miramar, Sophia, and Darwin, right? It’s my pleasure to meet you,” he said, with only the slightest hint of a Cantonese accent. He extended his hand to me. I took it and felt his strong grip. He then shook Sophia and Darwin’s hands. Sophia smiled curtly, but Darwin kept his face locked onto the carpet.

  “Your mother has told me so much about all of you, I feel like I already know you,” he beamed. I looked from this stranger to Ma who had a knit in her forehead as she switched the outrageous bouquet from one hand to the other.

  Sophia broke the ice. “William K.C. Koo, I presume?” she asked with all the iciness of a princess.

  “Sophia, it’s Uncle William. Where are your manners?” Ma chided.

  “No, Ga Bo, we can be modern here. Call me William,” he answered graciously.

  “Let’s go eat. Come. You must be hungry, and we’ve been cooking all day,” Ma brushed past us and back into the kitchen, leaving the four of us to stand awkwardly together.

  We moved to the living room. “Shall we sit?” William asked. He looked at each of us with purpose. “Do you like the condo? You know, I lent it to your Ma. I’m a real estate agent,” he said, taking a bunch of business cards out of his leather wallet and giving each of us one. I glanced at the picture of William with his megawatt smile before putting it on the coffee table. “I usually rent it out to Hong Kong businessmen who come for work, but it’s been empty. Your mother wanted a change in scenery, so I thought why not? I picked out all the furniture. It’s modern, huh?” He seemed to like the word “modern.”

  We stared back at him blankly. He clapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “I’ll go help your mother in the kitchen,” he announced. We remained in our seats.

  “Well?” Sophia whispered.

  I had no words.

  “What do you know about this, Dar?” Sophia asked. Darwin shrugged.

  “She mentioned one or two times she had a new friend. Some William. But I didn’t ask anything. How should I know?” He replied defensively. “You guys know more than I do.”

  “I don’t like him,” Sophia said.

  “Shhhhh. Stop it. Give the guy a chance. Maybe he’s nervous,” I answered.

  “No, he’s too smooth. I don’t like him. Isn’t it too soon for Ma to date? I mean, shit, I never thought Ma would ever date.” I knew Sophia had made up her mind. It had never crossed my mind either that Ma would ever find someone else.

  Ma did not ask us to help set the table or bring out any of the food and we didn’t offer. We came to the table when she called and stared at the huge feast we had prepared. When William announced, “Children, we should say grace,” I looked at him like he was an alien. This guy comes into our Ma’s house and now was telling us what to do? Who did that? He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. “Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  Ma answered clearly, “Amen,” while Darwin, Sophia, and I each mumbled something.

  Laid out on Ma’s new square black dishes, the food that had made me salivate with excitement just moments ago, now looked gelatinous and ugly. Ma kept mounding food into our bowls, while William talked about the real estate market. Apparently things were hot at the moment. Lucrative business. Lots of rich Hong Kong immigrants were snatching up properties in Markham in a rush to get out of Hong Kong before the 1997 China takeover. Only eight years left, he said excitedly. He talked and talked. We listened, half-heartedly, sneaking peeks at him and Ma. Ma’s face was held in a tight smile between small mouthfuls of food. The only person who seemed at ease was William K.C. Koo.

  Finally, he turned his attention to us. “So, Miramar, what are you studying at school? Your mother tells me you’re at Carleton?”

  “Sociology. I was in Journalism, but decided not to major in it,” I responded, putting my chopsticks down. I wondered what made me say that.

  “And why’s that?” William asked while reaching across to pick up a dumpling.

  “I don’t know. I, uh, just, uh, liked Sociology better, I guess.”

  “And what are you going to do with it?” he continued, dipping his dumpling in some light soy sauce.

  I hadn’t been asked about my future in a long time, and I didn’t appreciate it coming from Mr. Ultra-Bright Smile Salesman.

  “Uh, I don’t know, really. After I graduate, I guess I’ll look for work,” I stammered.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Well, get a plan. You need a good plan. Graduate school maybe? Use what you learned. You can even be a real estate agent if you like. Sociology is handy in my trade … you know, you have to be social,” he winked as if we were friends.

  “Well, maybe. I hadn’t thought of it,” I said.

  He turned to my siblings and opened his arms. “And the two geniuses! I guess I don’t have to ask you about your future! You’re already making lots of money, huh? Your mother is so proud,” he said, smiling and nodding at them.

  Sophia and Darwin just sat there, though I could see from Sophia’s face that William’s flattery had gotten him a point or two. I had to hand it to William K.C. Koo. He had persistence. I sensed he was a master conversationalist, winning over clients easily with his smooth talk. But two lousy points or not, we were going to be harder nuts to crack.

  “So, did your mother tell you that we are thinking of travelling to London to pay you a visit this spring, Darwin?” William said, between mouthfuls of taro cake.

  Darwin dropped his chopsticks, and they clattered to the ground. Ma jumped out of her seat to fetch him a clean pair.

  “Wouldn’t that be nice? You must be kind of lonely there, right? We were talking about taking a trip anyway, so why not come visit you?” William dropped this bomb nonchalantly.

  “Ma?” Darwin croaked.

  “We’ll talk later, Darwin. Nothing is planned,” Ma said softly, handing him the chopsticks.

  “So, what the hell is going on here?” Sophia burst forth, rice flying from her mouth with scattergun effect. Here we go, I thought, resisting the urge to duck under the table.

  “I beg your pardon?” William asked, his eyes widening slightly. I hoped he was rattled by Sophia’s question. It would prove he was human and not an android.

  “Like, are you two dating? Are you boyfriend/girlfriend? What are you?”

  “Oh,” William
demurred, chuckling. “Well, I guess you can say we like each other, a lot.” He reached for Ma’s hand on the table. Ma flinched ever so slightly. I felt the concrete in my stomach drop to the ground.

  “Because I just heard about you today. For the first time. And so, how long has this been going on?” Sophia demanded.

  If William detected the irritation in Sophia’s voice, he did not show it. “Well, children, I met your mother when I joined the church right after your father’s death. Rest his soul,” he crossed himself. “We got to know each other through the church events,” he paused, adding, “over a long period of time, naturally, since your mother is always flying around the world, checking in on Darwin. But when she was here, we would see each other. She needed some help managing her finances, and the house, so I volunteered.”

  I had to admire how cool he was. I could not imagine anything Sophia threw at him would faze him.

  “Yes, William is a big help to me. To us,” Ma said. I knew that was my cue to step in; I could feel the tension starting, burning off my sister like solar flare.

  “Thanks for helping, William,” I said lamely. “We’re just kind of surprised. But again, I know it’s been a lot of work for my mother, so we appreciate your help.” I didn’t know what to do. Whatever I had just said was not even real. I only didn’t want things to escalate.

  “You are so welcome, Miramar, children,” William grinned.

  The rest of dinner was relatively quieter, punctuated by William’s compliments to Ma on the tastiness of the food. Sophia had stopped eating. She sat with her arms crossed and glared unflinchingly at William. Darwin ate one tiny grain of rice after another. When Ma finally began to clear the plates, William took them from her and said he would do that chore since she had worked so hard in delivering such a perfect meal for us. He spoke as if on behalf of all of us. Anger roiled in my gut.

  After Ma served jasmine tea in the living room, Darwin beat it to his room, while Sophia murmured something about making a phone call. Seconds after she shut her bedroom door, Twisted Sister began blaring, “we’re not gonna take it,” Sophia’s particular battle cry.