I’m sorry,I thought, cradling my arms and crying over the baby I would never hold.
“My sweet hwamei in the tree,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Fly up to heaven now. Find your aunt. She will take care of you until I can be with you.” I sobbed, thinking of Lily and my baby with their unsung dreams. “If you don’t want to wait, that’s all right, too. Come back to this world in a better life, a happier life. Mama will never forget you.”
That was how Philip and Francis found me, hugging my knees, my sandals coated in a veneer of blood. The noodles had gone limp on the floor.
Francis knelt by my side. “What happened?”
“I’ll take care of her,” said my husband quietly.
He took the day off and drove me home. All he asked was if I wanted to go to the hospital, and when I said no, he didn’t argue. After a long silence, he asked, “Are you all right?”
I turned to the window, holding my breath. Within a minute, I could see the car door through my skin. Philip didn’t notice. If I kept disappearing little by little, how long would it take for him to realize that I was gone?
I’m not all right,I thought miserably.I wish I’d never married you, I wish I’d stayed with my mother in Tunglam. I wish I could disappear forever.
Philip turned on the radio. An English song crackled out of the speaker, a velvety male voice crooning about love and the moon. Jazz, Philip called it. My ear ached the whole ride home, but for once I didn’t mind. It took my mind off the pain in my heart.
When we arrived home, Philip sat me on the sofa, switched on the fan, and brought a cup of ice water.
My hand was limp when I took it. “It’s my fault,” I whispered.
“It’s not,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to cook. It’s my fault.”
I closed my mouth, tears catching on the corner of my lips. He wouldn’t understand.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
A sob wracked out of my chest. What I wanted more than anything was my mother, but who knew if I’d ever see her again? Sai Ma’s promise that I’d never find Mama haunted me even in my dreams. I wept until I fell asleep.
On Monday, Philip had to go back to work, but Francis stayed home to keep me company. It was during this time I got to know my brother-in-law better. He distracted me with games of gin rummy and taught me to play fantan. I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I couldn’t, I was so glum—but Francis had a box of Hershey’s Kisses.
“For gambling with,” he explained. “You don’t have to eat any if you don’t want.”
After a few rounds, he coaxed me into a bite. Then another, and another. By evening our rug was speckled with crumpled wrappers, the silver foil catching the light and shining like stars.
“I’ll tell you a secret, little sister,” Francis said, halfway through the bag, “something even my brother doesn’t know.”
“What?”
“The day before I was supposed to leave for Hong Kong, I ate some bad shrimps.” He wore a slightly morose, slightly purposeful smile. “Marrying some girl I’d never met... that wasn’t for me.”
“You mean, youmadeyourself sick?”
He shrugged. “Better for Philip to go. I couldn’t leave Fortune’s Palace to him for two whole months. You know he makes better bread than rice—we’d have lost all our regulars.” His smile wavered. “Besides, Philip’s used to being a husband. He’s not good at being lonely.”
“Is anyone?” I asked softly.
“I don’t mind it.”
There was a wistfulness in Francis’s tone that surprised me and made me wonder whether, like me, he harbored a secret heartache.
“I’m glad Philip found you,” Francis said then. “You’re not as dour as I thought, aside from not liking music.”
“It’s not your playing.” I rubbed my ear, a habit I’d developed. “I had an accident when I was younger. Certain pitches make this ear hurt.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“It’s my trouble, not yours.”
