Part 15 (1/2)
She asked him to turn back, and so they drove toward downtown, past the grand Coliseum Theatre. ”This is the first theater built exclusively for movies. I'd like to take you sometime. It's incredible,” he said casually. ”One day you'll be up on that screen. Breaking hearts with just a glance-of that I have no doubt.”
She tried to be coy at first, aloof, but could resist only so long before she surrendered to the shower of his praise. But as they returned to Chinatown, she grew nervous, expectant, as though this time together was a social contract and she would be obliged to fulfill it all night long. And she grew more hesitant, block by block, street by street, because she knew in that moment that she would do anything if he asked. But when they arrived at the Bush Hotel, he didn't ask anything at all.
As he came around and opened her door, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for the ride home and the splendid evening. He didn't push, or grab, or hint, or suggest, he merely smiled in the street light as revelers staggered by and music played from the dozens of clubs that were still open, the sounds pouring out in all directions amid the perfumed air. He pointed to the waning moon that peeked from behind the top of the Smith Tower, which rose above the Seattle skyline like an obelisk.
”I'd like to take you there sometime.”
”The moon?”
”The observatory at the top of the building.” He laughed. ”I've never been, but I hear the view is extraordinary. Would you like to go? Not just you, but you and ...”
”William,” she said proudly. ”My son's name is William. He's two-almost two and a half now. He's walking ... talking ...”
”Would you and William like to join me?”
Liu Song was somewhat confused. Was this a date? Was this a strange gesture of friends.h.i.+p? Most single men of Colin's age and stature wanted nothing to do with a woman burdened by a fatherless child.
”You're a package deal. I don't see how I could possibly invite one without the other. I'd like to meet him. If that's okay with you?”
Liu Song wanted to cry. She felt so much emotion and adoration that it surprised even her. Her cheeks were flushed and hot. She smiled and nodded, trying not to burst with joy and excitement. She'd sworn she'd keep William away from any men she dated, but suddenly she couldn't remember why. ”I'd love to.”
”How about next Sat.u.r.day? I'll pick you up at noon.”
She watched as he tipped his hat and drove off, wondering why she'd avoided him for so long, her heart quietly breaking as she wished she could go back and reclaim the years they'd been apart.
The Wis.h.i.+ng Chair.
(1924).
On Sat.u.r.day, Liu Song gave William a sudsy bath in the kitchen sink. She washed his hair with baby shampoo and taught him to blow bubbles, which drifted on the tide of warm air from the radiator, then popped on the cold gla.s.s of their living room window, leaving behind round, soapy rainbows. She couldn't help but smile as William splashed and laughed whenever another soap bubble popped.
She dried him off and kissed his tiny, perfect feet as she sang an old Chinese lullaby. She barely remembered the lyrics, which was fine with William, who made up his own words as he tried to sing along. Then she dressed him in his nicest outfit, navy blue coveralls and a white s.h.i.+rt, and leather baby shoes with double-knotted laces. Oddly enough, she was more concerned with William's appearance than with her own, though she had tossed and turned the night before with curlers in her hair. She hoped to make a good impression outside the club, but she was even more concerned that William be presentable. She wanted to be taken seriously as a proud, responsible parent-an attempt to avoid her misgivings about being an unwed mother and shed the yoke of degradation that came with such perceived failings. Liu Song had grown accustomed to the stigma of being a performer-she'd been prepared her whole life for that strange mix of adoration and blatant disrespect. But being an unwed mother was a shame not easily hidden or erased. And Liu Song had not discussed the details of William's paternity with anyone. Not Mr. b.u.t.terfield and not even Mildred.
Liu Song looked in the mirror and pinched her cheeks, smiling as she heard a knock, and William began to chatter and call her name. She lifted him in her arms, resting his plump bottom on her hip. She looked into the mirror one last time and then opened the door. Colin stood hidden behind a bouquet of morning glories.
”I saw your father give flowers just like these to your mother, after her big performance. I think they were her favorite.”
Liu Song nodded. ”You're so thoughtful. Moonflowers like these were a joke between my parents. When they met as apprentices they had so little money-they'd pick water spinach and eat it for dinner nearly every night. Those swamp cabbage flowers look the same, but these smell so much better.”
”I'll trade you.” Colin smiled as he handed her the flowers and took William from her arms, who seemed to marvel at the stranger. She brought the sweet-smelling petals to her nose and found a vase as she watched Colin put his hat on her son. His tiny head disappeared beneath the felt of the wide brim as his smile peeked out from below.
When they stepped outside Colin explained that he'd driven from his rented home on Beacon Hill, but the weather was nice and warm and suitable for walking, so he gallantly pushed the carriage as they walked down the street. Liu Song couldn't help but notice their reflections in the shop windows. At a glance they looked like a perfect family. She had chosen to wear her mother's jade ring on her right hand, and in the gla.s.s the mirror image looked as though she were a virtuous, married woman.
As she regarded her reflection, Liu Song noticed that she wasn't smiling. She realized she was wary of getting her hopes up. Happiness in her lifetime had been a scarce commodity, and she mistrusted not so much Colin's intentions as her own turn of fortune. She'd been unlucky most of her life, the only exception being the smiling, raven-haired boy who sucked his thumb and waved at strangers as they pa.s.sed. So Liu Song made small talk, trying not to reveal how deeply she cared, how complete she felt, even as they huffed and puffed up First Hill, which the locals called Profanity Hill because the street was so steep that men would curse their way to the top. Colin pushed the carriage, whistling a happy tune as he easily navigated the arduous incline.
When they finally arrived at Smith Tower, Liu Song stared up and felt a wave of vertigo as clouds slowly drifted past the tip of the tallest building west of the Mississippi. She steadied herself and then reached into her purse. Colin stopped her and paid for their tickets with a twenty-dollar bill.
The visit to the tower was William's first time in an elevator. His eyes grew wide and he held Liu Song's hand tightly as they peered through the windows of the latticed bra.s.s elevator doors, watching each floor disappear, revealing another level of smoke-filled offices, lobbies, suites-filled with busy, important-looking executives.
Liu Song felt faint as they stepped off the elevator car onto the thirty-fifth floor. She'd never been higher than atop a seven-story building. The breathtaking views of the city, the Puget Sound, and the Olympic Mountains on the horizon made her knees go weak.
”Just look at that,” Colin said. ”Thirty years ago an aeronaut named Professor Pa Van Ta.s.sell floated out over the water beneath a balloon powered by the Seattle Gas Company. He jumped from two thousand feet up, with a parachute.”
Liu Song thought he was teasing her, making up stories.
”No, really. He landed safely near the sh.o.r.e.” Colin wrapped his arm around hers and pushed the carriage with one hand as an usher in a bright red uniform with gold epaulets welcomed visitors into the famed Chinese Room. ”Sometimes you just have to go where the wind blows you.”
As Liu Song stared in surprise and fascination at the Chinese furniture and the hand-carved ceiling, she asked Colin, ”Did you know about all this?”
”I did.” He nodded. ”But I had to see it to believe it.”
”Would you like to sit in the Wis.h.i.+ng Chair?” another usher asked as he pointed to an ornate throne in the center of the room that had a gorgeous view of Mount Rainier. When Liu Song approached, she could see the intricate carving of a dragon swallowing the world on the backrest, while the armrests were serpents. A pair of fierce, crouching lions, carved from polished rosewood, flanked the throne. ”Everything you see here was a gift given to the Smith family,” the usher said. ”From Her Royal Highness Tzu-hsi the Empress of China, but I'm sure you know that.”
Liu Song smiled politely. She didn't know much Chinese history but did remember that, according to her father, the Dowager Empress had once been a concubine, elevated by the status of her son-the Emperor's rightful heir. And she supported the Chinese Opera. Tzu-hsi had been hated and loved for that, among countless other reasons. Liu Song understood how that felt.
Colin turned to Liu Song and said, ”After you, Your Majesty,” but William had finally grasped the reality of how high they were and wanted to be held by his mother.
”You first,” she said. ”I insist. Besides, I'm hardly of n.o.ble birth.”
She watched as Colin bowed, waved to the tourists out on the observation deck as though they were his honored guests. Then he sat down as the usher smiled.
”Why is it called the Wis.h.i.+ng Chair?” Liu Song asked. She set William down, and he walked around the room, timidly stepping toward the wraparound deck with its polished bra.s.s railings and the fresh, salty air. He came back and held her hand as she looked at Colin.
”It's called the Wis.h.i.+ng Chair,” the usher said, ”because legend has it that whoever sits in the chair will be married within a year. The Smiths' daughter was the first to sit there. She ended up getting married a year later, in this very room.”
Liu Song tried not to blush as Colin stared back at her, unblinking.
”But,” the usher said, puncturing the awkward silence, ”since you two are already married, perhaps some other good fortune will come your way.”
Liu Song looked at Colin, and he smiled; neither said a word until William spoke, furrowing his brow and pointing at Colin as he blurted, ”Dadda?”
AFTERWARD THEY ATE lunch at the Brooks Brothers restaurant, which drew stares from the other patrons, but Liu Song didn't mind. Then Colin walked them back to the Bush Hotel. Liu Song invited him up for tea, but he declined with a polite smile.
”I would love to, honestly, but you're an unmarried woman with a child. I don't want to overstay my welcome. Besides, it's probably his nap time.”
Liu Song was somewhat crestfallen when he kissed her on the cheek and waved goodbye. She felt slightly rejected after such a lovely time together-a perfect afternoon-but she knew he was right. He was looking out for her, worrying about her, because in a careless moment she might create more problems than she could handle. She remembered when she'd first moved into the hotel, how the gray-haired Chinese manager had a.s.sumed she was a rich man's mistress. In retrospect she supposed that was the only reason he agreed to rent her the room. Either way, she was thankful that he let them live there, despite having to turn down his numerous advances and offers of opportunities to work off her rent.
A single mother in a neighborhood filled with Chinese bachelors, she was grateful to have William, whose mere presence generally managed to keep those with less than honorable intentions at bay, as his smile softened hearts everywhere he went.
As Liu Song walked down the hallway, she noticed that the door to her apartment was slightly ajar. She thought about going back downstairs and fetching the manager in case there was a burglar, but then she remembered the only other person who had a key. Liu Song slowly opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Mildred standing in the bathroom. Her friend had her face to the mirror as she painted her lips a bright shade of raspberry. Mildred smacked her lips together and then tucked the metal lipstick tube into a tiny sequined clasp. She turned to Liu Song and puckered her lips to show off a perfect Cupid's bow.
”Sorry, Willow. I didn't mean to bust in, but I have another date and my mother wouldn't let me out of the house if I had makeup on. How do I look?”
Mildred was the only person who called her Willow outside the club. She was a senior in high school now and thought the moniker was such a modern name-a grown-up name, as if having a child wasn't grown-up enough. Liu Song inspected Mildred's thick eyeliner and eyelashes, painted black. She reached up and smoothed out the pinkish tone of her friend's rouged cheeks.