Part 13 (1/2)

”I'm so sorry, Michael. Then how did you survive?”

”Philip n.o.ble. Philip's father was an ophthalmologist and comfortably off. He invited me to live with them.”

”What about your other relatives?”

”My grandparents were gone. My mother had sometimes mentioned a black-sheep uncle who owned a small bar in New Jersey. But when I finally tracked down his phone number and talked to him, he was furious that I'd found him. Not only did he refuse to help, he hollered, 'Who gave a s.h.i.+t about me when I was poor?'

”I spent some time with the n.o.bles, but I couldn't ask for too much from them-after all, they are not my parents. So it was really my discovery of Chinese art that changed things for me. Somehow it brought me back to life again. Both the art and Professor Fulton. I became closer to him than to Philip's father because we shared more interests. Professor Fulton should be at the Met tomorrow; I'll introduce him to you. He was very kind to me. I owe him a lot.”

I reached to hold Michael's hand. ”Michael, I'm so sorry about what happened, but you're fine now.”

”Thanks.” Some silence, then Michael said, ”Now tell me more about yourself.”

I sipped my coffee, then told him how my father, a disillusioned poet and scholar, had become a gambler, how he had stolen the bracelet from my mother, and how he had gambled it away on my twentieth birthday.

My mother meant to give the bracelet to me as a birthday present-the last piece of jewelry her mother had given her. When I asked Mother whether I was too young to receive Grandmother's heirloom, she said, ”Silly girl, of course I don't expect you to flaunt it around. It's just when it's under your name, hopefully your father won't gloat over it like a monk over enlightenment.”

One morning, to prepare for my longevity birthday dinner, Mother had gone to the market to buy a live chicken and a fish, butchered and gutted on the spot. We rarely dined out in those days, for Father had been jobless for years, and we mainly lived on Grandmother's money, which had almost all fled across the gambling table.

Dinner was ready and Father was still nowhere to be found. After waiting for an hour, Mother decided we'd go ahead without him. On the red-clothed table, Mother carefully set down five dishes: steamed fish in scallion and black bean sauce, soy-sauce chicken, stir-fried bok choy in crushed garlic, and-a must for a longevity dinner-hard-boiled eggs dyed a cheerful red, and noodles symbolizing long life. We savored the fish, relished the chicken, and chewed the noodles in silence. Although neither of us mentioned Father, we both knew he must be at that moment drowning himself in the gambling sea of samsara. samsara.

After dinner, Mother set out a cake with two candles. She lighted them, smiling. ”I'll go get the bracelet.”

Almost immediately, Mother screamed like the chicken slaughtered for my birthday. I dashed into the bedroom and saw her clutching the empty jewelry box on her lap. ”Your father has stolen your grandmother's bracelet!”

Father didn't come home that night. That piece of jade, worth ten thousand Hong Kong dollars, could maintain his gambling habit for a long time-long enough that he'd completely forgotten the day when his only daughter was born.

Father came home the next morning with bloodshot eyes and breath smelling of alcohol. Mother started to scream at him for his gambling away the household money.

Suddenly Father began to sing, ”Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose...”

I almost burst into tears. ”Baba, that's a secret only between you and me!”

Mother cast me a questioning glance. ”What secret?”

Father laughed. ”Oh, don't you remember we lost our baby boy on the gambling table?”

Mother went up to Father and slapped his face.

The air in the apartment suddenly became like that in a mortuary.

A long silence.

”Sorry,” Father finally said, ”it's my fault. I've lost everything.” His voice rang with heroic defeat.

”Where's the money my mother sent us last month for the Mid-Autumn Festival, before she died?” Mother demanded. ”There was two thousand dollars.”

”Gone” was Father's reply.

”And the other jewelry in the bank safe? Then what about the stock my mother bought me several years ago?”

”Long gone,” Father said, avoiding our eyes.

It was then that we found out Father owed a loan shark ten thousand dollars. And if he couldn't pay tomorrow, it would rise to fifteen thousand.

The next evening, when Father, Mother, and I came home together from a cheap dinner at a street stall, we found both our apartment door and the wall next to it splashed with characters in red paint dripping like blood.

My parents' mouths dropped open.

”The Big Ear Hole!” Father exclaimed. The loan shark.

The huge, evil characters forced themselves onto my eyes:

WARNING:.

IF WE CAN'T GET THE MONEY, WE'LL GET THE THROAT

Mother pushed Father on the shoulder. ”Hurry! Let's get inside the house! Quick!”

Father fumbled in his pants pocket for several moments before he pulled out a string of keys, singled out the right one, and pushed it into the keyhole with trembling hands. ”d.a.m.n!”

”What's wrong?” Mother yelled.

”They glued the keyhole!”

Just then, a thirtyish man with a boy pa.s.sed by our apartment in the long corridor. The bespectacled man peered at the graffiti, then lowered his head and dragged the boy away.

Hurrying his steps to follow his father, the little boy looked back at us and asked, ”Baba, will they die?”

The man smacked his son's scalp. ”Shut up and mind your own business!” After that, the two disappeared around a corner.

It took Father almost ten minutes to sc.r.a.pe clear the glue with the Swiss Army knife he always carried. Then we entered the house and locked the door. In less than five minutes, the bell rang. Father jolted up from the sofa, but Mother pushed him down.

”Let me get it,” she hushed.

Mother looked through the peephole, then cleared her throat, her voice determined. ”Who is it?”

”We're looking for Du Wei,” said a raucous male voice. I pictured him standing right outside the thin door, his bulging muscles tattooed with a monstrous dragon and his eyes screaming murder.

Mother yelled, ”No such person!”

Raucous Voice roared back, ”Hey, b.i.t.c.h, don't fool with me. I know Du Wei lives here. Get him out!”

Father and I listened with our ears pressed tightly to the door. I tipped my head to peek at him and saw big beads of perspiration oozing from his forehead.