“No buts. And speak in Chinese.”
Through the rearview mirror, Philip sent Marigold a sympathetic look. “She’s got a flashlight, let her finish the book. We’re almost there anyway.”
Thank you, Ba.Marigold smiled at him, then lowered her gaze back to her book.
With a sigh, Helen turned back to the front. “They’re getting too big to sit back there.”
“Let them enjoy it while they still can.”
“We can sit in our seats after we buy the TV,” Rosie piped up, ever the eavesdropper.
“We’re only buying it if the sale is still going on,” Helen reminded them. “There might not be any left.”
How could the girls not get their hopes up? For the longest time, they’d had to go to their uncle’s house to watch TV, and his was only in black and white. After today, they’d be true Americans, their modest home finally endowed with the staple of every middle-class family. Even Marigold was giddy.
It was past seven when the Yuens parked at Hillsdale Shopping Center, but no one was hungry. The three sisters sprinted for the entrance to Sears as Helen shouted, “Careful! Look out for cars.”
They ran past the catalog order desk and the demonstration tables. In the electronics section a wonderland of televisions awaited, their raised antennae like beckoning caterpillars.
Marigold and her sisters stood transfixed by the flickering screens. Soon, one of these magical devices would be theirs. No more having to listen to their friends’ recaps of the latestJetsonsepisode, no more missing the Saturday cartoons.
Their world would be in technicolor.
All the screens were playingLassie,which Marigold had seen before. She stood with her sisters to watch, but she didn’t like watching movies twice the way she read books over and over. Her throat was growing tight and she peeled away to look for a water fountain.
“Where are you going?” asked her mother.
The lights in the store were a bright and reflective white, and Marigold was starting to feel dizzy. “The bathroom,” she replied, slightly breathless. “I need water.”
Helen’s lips pursed. “You look pale. I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Don’t argue, Mei Yoong. You’re Chinese, not American.”
Marigold shut her mouth. She followed her mother to the ladies’ room, where she found a water fountain and took a big gulp to soothe the strain in her throat.
“Better?” said Helen.
Marigold nodded. She’d inherited her father’s asthma, and these moments of tightness in her chest were familiar. She wasn’t worried. Still, when her mother wasn’t looking, she sucked in a fistful of air.
Outside the bathrooms, while on their way back to rejoin the family, a saleslady cornered Helen to try some lipsticks and perfumes.
“Free sample?” Helen asked, slowing.
“No,” replied the lady brightly, “but let me show you how pretty this new color is.”
Helen resumed walking. “I no speak English.”
“Oh, then does your dau—” The lady halted, taking in Marigold’s uneven complexion, her pencil-thin mouth and wide-set eyes, looking unsure whether they were related. She started again, “Will you tell your aunt those gorgeous lips of hers would pop with some color.”
For once, Marigold was grateful when her mother pushed her along.
Next was the home appliances department, which was right by electronics, andtheyhad samples. Helen stopped to watch a representative from General Electric doing a blender demonstration. She pretended to look interested while she waited to collect the free soup.
“This model is top of the line,” the salesperson was saying as he poured soup into Dixie cups, “with a thirty-six-ounce blending capacity and no spill—”
Helen pinched together two pairs of the steaming cups. “Take an extra for your father.”
