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“Because we love each other.”
And she does love him. I see it in her eyes. I hear it in her voice. In fact, I’ve known since the first time she said Tao’s name back in Shanghai, but that doesn’t mean marriage is a good idea. My life has been filled with bad choices, and I’ve been living with the consequences for too long. I can’t bear another heartbreak, and I burn with the shame of having failed as a mother. I take a deep breath, hoping that an angel will sit on my shoulder and settle me into the mother I should be. Z.G. isn’t helping, that’s for sure. I guess that’s to be expected. Yes, it’s been nice having him sleep in the room next to mine. I’ve been comforted hearing the weight of his footsteps, his whistling when he thinks no one is listening, his deep sighs, the sloughing and dropping of his clothes as he gets undressed, and his belching and other man sounds, but I know that a Rabbit will never go all out for you, defend you, or do battle for you. On top of that, Z.G. honestly and truly doesn’t know what it means to be a parent. What would Sam say to Joy?
I clear my throat. “Your father believed in perfect matches,” I begin. “My mother believed in them too. So did Yen-yen and Grandpa Louie. Your father and I were very happy, even though an Ox and a Dragon aren’t a perfect match. Still, a Dragon and an Ox have great respect for each other. They work together for common goals. Even I, as a Dragon, could never complain about an Ox’s worthiness. You’re a Tiger. You’ve never mentioned what sign rules Tao.”
“He’s a Dog,” Joy replies.
“Of course,” I respond. “A Dog is the most likable of all the signs.” Joy smiles at that, but she shouldn’t be so sure of my sentiments; I’m not done. “A Dog can put on a smiling face, but by nature he’s a pessimist. He doesn’t care about money—”
“And neither do I,” Joy exclaims.
“A Dog can be violent—”
“Not Tao—”
“Is he the kind of Dog you can trust and love, or will he bite you? Is he a lazy Dog, who likes to lie by the fire and do nothing?”
“You’re listing only negative attributes,” Joy says. “You say these things because you’re a Dragon. A Dog will never bow to your self-importance.”
“Your auntie May would say that a Dog and a Tiger always act on impulse—”
“Auntie May is a Sheep,” Joy cuts me off. “Tao would be too practical to indulge her selfish views.” She seems desperate as she appeals to Z.G., trying to get him on her side. “Tell her that the Dog and the Tiger are among the best matches possible. We believe in strong bonds with other people. That means we both share in our love of the masses and what’s happening here in the commune.”
“Yes, you’re both motivated by idealism,” Z.G. agrees. “These are hallmarks of both your signs.”
God, but men—fathers—can be weak and sentimental.
“Fine, but this isn’t a good idea,” I say to him. “You know that. You just said it was out of the question.”
“I know, but think how much sorrow would have been prevented if May and I had followed our hearts,” he says.
Will I forever feel like I was the one betrayed? Will he ever understand that things would have been very different if he had followed my heart?
“But you and May loved each other.” (How it hurts me to say that, even after all these years.) “Joy can’t possibly love Tao. Sympathy is often mistaken for love. It snares people into unhappy marriages and lives. How do we know Tao isn’t a blind Dog, who just stumbled on a good meal by accident?”
“Is that how you felt about your husband?” Z.G. asks. Before I have a chance to respond, he adds, “In any case, Joy doesn’t feel sympathy for Tao.” He turns to Joy. “Do you?”
“I love him,” she says, and I still can’t help being reminded of May at that age—stubborn, dumb, and romantic.
Z.G. once again addresses me. “A woman is like a vine. She can’t survive without the support of a tree. Isn’t that what you had in your marriage?”
“Tao is not a tree,” I snap, but Z.G.’s words are hard on me. I thought Sam was so sturdy. I thought he could support me, Joy, all of us, forever.
“Besides,” Z.G. goes on, “Joy admires Tao as an artist.”
That stuns me. “You said he isn’t very good.”
“He’s still an artist,” Z.G. says with a shrug.
That’s such an egotistical comment, and so like Z.G., but his earlier words about my marriage still sting. Who am I to say how the heart works? Sam was just a rickshaw puller when we first met, and I loved him deeply.
I realize I can’t win the fight against this marriage, but I try to delay things by suggesting we hold a proper wedding in Shanghai. “I’ll hire a flowered palanquin to carry you to the ceremony. I’ll arrange a banquet with all the best dishes. You can have the wedding I didn’t have.”
“Mom, I don’t want that kind of wedding. We’re in the New China. You fill out some forms and you’re married. That’s all.”
“You won’t be able to leave here. You’ll be stuck,” I say, repeating what I consider the greatest reason against this match.
“I don’t want to go back to Shanghai,” Joy insists.
