The Wondrous Woo Page 14

  I peeked inside of one that contained flat white stones.

  Just when I’d been thinking there was a chance he could be sane, his explanation of his room blew that idea to smithereens.

  “Snow flakes. From the moon,” he said when I picked one up.

  In another, he had a pile of feathers. Some looked like they were from a seagull and were long, slender, and white. Others were smaller and plumper in various shades of grey.

  “For their curative powers.”

  There was also a collection of pressed leaves, placed on top of each other neatly, from largest to smallest.

  “Books,” Mouse said simply. “And pens.” He pointed at a neat stack of pine needles.

  Throughout the room, Mouse had tied his colourful ribbons to the crates and they looked like flags.

  “The ribbons? They’re sleeping.”

  There are many different ways to say “crazy” in Cantonese: tsaw; hei mong mong; chi seen; deen. Each word described a particular brand of crazy. Tsaw meant “silly.” You could say it as a term of affection, as a tease, or as something derogatory or dismissive of someone’s inappropriate behaviour. Hei mong mong was suited to someone a little foggy, because he was lost in his own world. Chi seen was the English equivalent of “crazy,” which you shouted when something was outrageous. Then there was deen. Well, deen meant “certifiable.” Locked up crazy. Ma crazy.

  That was a lot of words, plenty nuanced, but faced with all the various forms of recent craziness in my life, I could see there was a need for more words. What I wanted most was one word that would question who the crazy really were — the ones with the off-beat behaviour, or the rest of us for thinking so.

  Whether Mouse was deen or tsaw, he was nice and I, as a new and more reckless Miramar, was in for the adventure of it. I went to sit on his bed. It was perfectly made with a white duvet that was embroidered with pink flowers. It was so delicate and clean, I did not want to muss it up so I just perched on the edge.

  Mouse bent down to a small TV with a VHS player beside it. When the film began, he ran over to the bed and jumped on it beside me, bouncing lightly on the mattress like a child. In the movie, Jet Li, a slave to an evil emperor, witnessed the murder of his father. He ran away and was nurtured back to health by a group of monks at the Shaolin Monastery. There he learned integrity, brotherhood, and the noble truths of Buddha. He also learned how to fight because the monks were trained in the secrets of the Shaolin martial arts.

  Halfway into the film, I fell hard in love with Jet Li. There was also a fierce shepherdess, the daughter of one of the kung fu masters, who gave Jet Li a walloping for killing and roasting her dog for dinner. There was some hint of a romance brewing, but Jet Li decided to embrace her as his sister since he was now a monk.

  Mouse’s bouncing got more intense during the fight scenes. In the final scene, when the evil warlord waged a battle on the sacred ground of the Shaolin temple, Mouse hopped off the bed and landed in panther pose, Bruce Lee style, his face in a deadly scowl. “EEeeeYoooow. MMMMmmmkicha!” he growled and punched the air.

  I had never seen anyone else do air kung fu before. Mouse was good, too. I leapt into the mountain stance position, holding my hands at guard. Mouse gave me a nod and we entered into a fight sequence, vanquishing a hundred enemies, just as Jet Li was getting started.

  Drums, from the TV, sounded a war song with strong rhythmic beats, which inspired us to accelerate our fight. We kicked at the evil troops, throwing our fists in the air and thrusting the bad guys to death with our imaginary swords. Mouse was an incredible gymnast; he did flips backwards and forwards, always landing in the cat stance before repeating his sequences. I practiced the tiger claw, shattering the clavicle of my imaginary foe. The floor shook. At some point, I worried one of his roommates might get upset, but I did not hear any pounding apart from us, so I forgot about it. Once all of Jet Li’s enemies finally lay moaning on the ground, we turned and faced each other, gave a kung fu bow and fell laughing to the floor.

  When Mouse caught his breath, he said, “Hey! I knew a man from my home village that had the power to stop the earth from moving!” I arched my brow. Home village? Was he a FOB — someone “fresh off the boat?” He did not have any traces of a Chinese accent. I had assumed he was Canadian-born, or, like me, was part of the 1.5 generation.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he continued excitedly, flailing his arms. “He could grind the axis of the earth to a halt, and the world would freeze while he rescued villagers from unforeseen misfortune!” He stared at me, waiting for my response, which I wasn’t giving him because I was working hard to imagine what he was saying. “Isn’t that insane? The world would stand still while you went fast-forward in it!”

  Whether Mouse was really deen became irrelevant at this point; he was hilarious and I ran with it.

  “Whoa,” I said. “I can think of a lot of situations when that skill could come in handy.” I remembered seeing extraordinary things during the Sunday matinees. I knew that one trained touch could either save a life or end it, and that simple tap could paralyze the entire body. I also learned from Ba that the masters used to travel by way of stepping on the tops of bamboo trees, so light were their feet. But putting the world on freeze-frame? That was a new one.

  “I want to learn to do that,” he said.

  “How do you learn something like that?” I asked.

  “Meditation. Start inward and then throw the control outward,” he replied.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Well, you have to master yourself. You have to be, within yourself, absolutely calm and peaceful. Then, you’ll be able to make the world outside of you just as still,” he explained.

  “Right.” It made sense.

  “So, I’ve been working on it. I meditate every day. Try to empty everything out. Slow my heart rate, breathing, everything. It’s almost like you’re dead, but not.”

  I thought about the World Religion class I hadn’t finished. We had been learning about Buddha and his enlightenment when I left. ”It’s a spiritual state of stillness too,” I said quietly.

  “Go on.” Mouse leaned back on the floor, one arm supporting his weight.

  I sighed and tried to remember. “Well, maybe, it’s about reaching a state of spiritual completeness. Maybe, you aren’t even you anymore, you’re just part of the whole world. Maybe, then, you can bend time because you are in tune with everything.” I got excited as I continued. It was an interesting hypothesis. I remembered getting into such talks with Ba when we would try to unravel the mysteries of the kung fu masters’ unbelievable powers. He had always leapt right in there with me, never discounting my ideas just because I was a kid.

  “And you give up trying to control. You simply become a part of the world. So maybe that guy in your village wasn’t really doing it by himself. Maybe the whole universe recognized that what was happening shouldn’t happen, and it all worked together in order for him to prevent it. He was just part of the big picture,” I felt good, like I’d just realized something.

  “Wah. Lang lui. I see what you’re saying.” Mouse let out a big breath as if he were digesting something profound and was letting it seep slowly into his mind.

  As I pieced this hypothesis together, I pictured Ba stepping off the curb. If I had been there, maybe I could have been able to stop time, pluck him out of the line of danger and everything would have been different. Maybe Sophia and Darwin would have turned out to be just regular kids, and I would have finished university. Maybe Ma would have learned to be happy. I felt my heart loosen a bit. It was a lot of maybes.

  My eyes got hot. I jumped up. “I gotta go.”

  Mouse roused himself out of his thoughts. “Really? You don’t want to get something to eat? Talk more kung fu?”

  “No, really, I have to go.” I picked up my laundry basket.

  “Okay. Hold on, I’ll see
you out.”

  I went first down the stairs, clutching my laundry basket, and carefully stepping over the garbage. I let myself out through the door.

  “Hey, lang lui, wanna watch another film, sometime?” Mouse called from the threshold.

  I turned just before reaching the sidewalk. He was leaning against the door frame, a big smile on his face. He reminded me of a cat. A sleek, agile young tomcat. But he was kind and sincere. And cool. I realized I liked him.

  “Okay. Sure,” I said and shrugged. I pretended to be casual as I walked away but I was shaking a little on the inside.

  Chapter 24 ~

  Ah-Lam knew she was not like the other girls. When they went down to the shore to do their laundry, the others sang together in perfect harmony. Their sweet voices travelled through the fields to where the men worked, causing them to pause and thank the heavens for being alive. When Ah-Lam joined in, her voice screeched like an owl’s and the girls, startled, would shoot her dirty looks. Ah-Lam longed for a day when she could afford her own washer and dryer.

  IT HAD BEEN FOUR MONTHS since I had run away from my life, and I had not called Ma or Sophia or even Darwin to tell them what I had done or where I was. I needed more time. I wanted to be fully settled into my new life first. They would have questions that I didn’t have answers to.

  But I was lonely. It was early summer again, and the trees were filled with young leaves. Toward evening, the sky would be filled with purple light, and all around, one could hear mothers calling their children home for dinner in several languages. On one of those beautiful evenings, with the breeze blowing gently through my window, I called Nida. She was home from university for the summer, doing some kind of internship with the TD Bank. Her voice, at once familiar and totally different, was full of exclamation marks.

  “Miramar, I thought you had dropped off the face of the earth! Jesus, it’s good to hear from you!”

  Her voice sounded like home.

  “Of course, I want to see you! And guess what, I’ve talked to Denise and Tina recently. Why don’t we all get together? The 4Somes! Want to?”

  She had suggested an elegant restaurant in Yorkville. When the night came, I was last to arrive. Among the shining silverware and linen, my friends looked so grown-up. Nida was wearing a blue suit and a crisp white blouse, having just come from work. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in long, bouncy layers. Denise had on a light jade cardigan over a grey skirt. Tina was clad in a dressy pair of black slacks and black pumps. She had graduated from being a nerd to being a well-dressed, trendy nerd. They looked like kids playing dress-up, but still, I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt and felt left behind.

  After the initial hugs and telling each other we looked good, Nida raised her wineglass. “So, ladies. A toast because there is occasion to toast,” she said. I lifted my water glass and waited. “I’m engaged!” she trilled.

  “Nida!” Denise exclaimed.

  “So exciting!” Tina added.

  They squealed and reached across the table to hug her. Nida told us she was marrying some boy named Rajiv from Mississauga who also went to Western.

  “The wedding will be year after next, when we graduate. Huge. I mean, huge. A full on Indian wedding. Like eight hundred guests, my mother estimates. And all the Hindu stuff for the week prior. The mehndi, the marmara, the whole get-up. You will all be invited, of course. Can you believe it?”

  We talked about the wedding for the next half hour. I faked enthusiasm by asking for details. Nida wanted both dresses — the wedding sari for the ceremony and the white gown for part of the reception. Then there would be half a dozen costume changes along with accessories and jewellery, all of which she described in detail. Nida had talked a lot about her future wedding when we were kids. She had planned it, even made lists. The only difference between then and now was that she had always imagined the groom as Ralph Macchio from The Karate Kid.

  When the fury of the engagement died down, Tina announced that she had just gotten accepted to nursing school, and Denise said she had decided to apply for an MBA. They both had boyfriends, and took out photographs as proof. As they flipped through the pictures, commenting on how hot each others’ boyfriends were, I let my posture crumple, feeling more and more like the garden gnome again.

  “And you, Miramar? What about you?” Denise asked.

  I sat up and tried to brighten. “Oh, I’m good. I left Carleton. It wasn’t for me. I may apply somewhere else to finish, but I want to take my time, ya know?” They were all nodding politely while I talked, making me feel shittier and shittier.

  “Any man in your life?” Tina asked.

  “Well, you know, I’m dating. I haven’t met ‘the one’ yet. But you know, dating is fun. That’s where I’m at right now.” There was definitely pity on their faces. I began to feel desperate.

  “What happened to that guy from North Bay?” Nida asked.

  “Oh, him. Whatever. Easy come, easy go.” I feigned indifference. I detected an “I told you so” in her tone. She was beginning to get on my nerves.

  “How’s your family? Sophia? Darwin?” asked Denise cheerily as she handed around the breadbasket.

  “They’re good. Sophia is in Montreal at McGill. Darwin is in London,” I said. At least all these things were true. I hoped my siblings’ glamorous lives would make me look slightly more interesting by proxy.

  Towards the end of dinner, over a dish of chocolate cheesecake with four forks, Nida said, “Isn’t it amazing how well we’re all doing?”

  Tina and Denise nodded emphatically. We used to be so close. An image of us lip-synching to “How Will I Know” popped in my mind. We had recorded the video, studied it frame by frame, and then taught ourselves the dance moves. We four had unanimously wanted to grow up to be the Asian Whitney Houston.

  Looking around at the faces of my friends, I realized how both familiar and strange they appeared. I had the feeling that this would probably be the last time I ever saw them. I saw how there was no need to try and replicate the 4Somes after this night. A lump started to form in my throat. I was happy for them, I truly was, but I felt as if I had just gotten back from Mars or something, as if my only real news was that aliens do, in fact, exist. And that maybe I was one of them.

  Chapter 25 ~

  Ai was not sure how she felt about the stranger who had come to the village. He juggled and told crass jokes, yet his sword skills were exquisite. Was he a clown or was he a hero? She was in a state of panic and confusion, having been trained only to fall in love with heroes.

  MOUSE WAS MY FIRST real friend in a long time and a good distraction from the wandering thoughts that invariably landed me back in quicksand. His enthusiasm for kung fu films gave us a lot to talk about. He did a quick review of my video collection and quickly added to it. From the Chinatown video stores, he brought me films with Cheng Pei-Pei, one of the first major female kung fu stars; her legendary Golden Swallow, also known as The Girl with the Thunderbolt Kick, went right on my shelf. “If it’s the ladies you want, lang lui, you have to get a load of these girls,” he said as he stocked my milk crates with films feauturing Angela Mao Ying, Lily Li, Karina Wei-Yin Hung, Michelle Yeoh.

  Now, with the summer breeze blowing into my living room, we disappeared into the ancient landscapes of China — the cascading waterfalls, weepy willow trees, rolling mountains — and joined forces with the honourable monks who fought to protect the temples. We made up storylines, even writing them down with the intention of sending them off to the Shaw Brothers, the biggest kung fu film studio in Hong Kong. After work, I could count on Mouse rapping lightly on my door with gifts of roast pork and barbecued chicken and rice wrapped in wax paper. We would settle into an evening of films and air kung fu. I knew Mouse liked me, but I could not tell if he felt any romantic feelings for me. He never made any moves and treated me like his sister. I, however, realized after some time tha
t I was feeling something else. But while the desire to kiss him was building up inside me, I pushed it down, not sure I wanted to unleash that crazy desire again. I shuddered when I thought of the power Jerry had had over me.

  One night, a couple of weeks into our friendship, over tinfoil boxes of chow mein and ho fun noodles, I asked Mouse where he was from.

  “Aiya, you wouldn’t believe me, lang lui.”

  “Try me,” I said, as I picked up noodles with my chopsticks.

  “I am the spirit of an old gingko tree.”

  I rolled my eyes. It was hard to talk to Mouse seriously. “Really, huh?” I asked, digging into my bowl.

  “Yup. A village grew all around me because they knew I was sacred. They worshipped me, made me offerings, carved my likeness into stone and erected a small shrine at my feet. On festival days, they tied ribbons of every colour to my branches that would fly in the wind.”

  “Oh, that’s where you get your ribbons,” I said.

  “’Cept I grew ambition,” he said with his mouth full.

  I rolled my eyes but was secretly loving this. There was no denying Mouse was an excellent storyteller.

  “I wanted to escape, but my roots locked me to the earth. I wanted to travel, to see the pink mountains that were far away in the distance. I wanted to reach the top where the clouds shrouded them. I also wanted to go to the sea, to dip my toes in the green water to see if it was cold or warm. But as tall and as wide as I grew, I couldn’t reach them.”

  He shoved a large mouthful of beef and onion ho fun into his mouth. I waited for him to go on. “And? What happened?”

  “It took many years, maybe a hundred, but finally, I befriended a boy. A strange kid. They called him the ‘upside-down’ boy because he was always looking up at the sky. Anyway, this boy, Fang, was the only one who could hear my voice, and even though he was mute, I could hear him fine. He was born into the wrong world. Fang’s theory was that he was ’sposed to be a spirit, but some mistake had happened. I could believe it too. That kid had eyes like shadows.”