Fiona and Jane(6)

“No way,” I said. “No offense.”

“You have a talent for music,” Ping said. “But you’re so lazy.”

“Ping!” I said, laughing. “That’s so mean.”

She said it was true. Then she laughed a little, too. “Is that mean to say?”

“I’m your favorite student,” I said. “Admit it.”

This made her laugh harder. I liked it when Ping laughed at something I said. Her whole face changed; it opened right up and became something else. When Ping smiled, she looked pleasant and kind, but you noticed right away that she was carefully hiding her teeth. Only when she laughed would you ever catch Ping’s mouth stretched wide, unguarded and lovely.

“Jane,” she said, “I will really miss you.” She pretended to wipe tears away from her eyes.

“We still have the summer,” I said. “Plus, I don’t know where I’m going, if I’m even going anywhere. I haven’t heard back from colleges yet.” I looked down at my hands. I thought of my father, and Lee, again. “Ping, can I ask your opinion about something?”

“I have some news to tell you,” Ping said. “Actually, I am going back to China.”

“What? When?”

She said her mother was ill, so she wanted to go home to Xian sooner rather than later. Once she was there, she’d decide if her mother’s case would require her to stay through the rest of the year. “It’s hard to know the truth, over phone calls,” Ping said. “Even if she is much worse than she tells me, I know my mother will never ask me to give up my life here.” Ping shook her head. “Until it’s too late,” she added. “I’m sorry. It’s very sudden—”

“So then this is—our last lesson?”

“I already told your mom,” she said. “Everything happened last week.” She paused a moment. “What did you want to ask me? My opinion about . . . ?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Never mind.”

Mah had wanted me to learn from Ping, to grow into a new and improved girl, the kind of daughter who placed in piano competitions and brought home trophies. My transformation hadn’t happened in the last eight months with Ping as my piano teacher. I kept losing. The judges never called my name. I was a loser, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

“Jane. What’s wrong?”

“What about—well, you know. What happened—”

“I’ll always be your friend. We’ll stay in touch.” She reached into the cloth tote bag at her feet. “I brought you a present.” It was a CD, obviously, wrapped in silver paper. I took it from her. “Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked.

After she left I threw the CD in the trash. I didn’t want her stupid goodbye present.

Adults were all the same. Even Ping. They were always feeding you some line, expecting you to eat it up without any questions. I’d thought she was different, like a friend’s cool older sister, someone who listened. Though of course she was more than that to me, or could have been, anyway. The trip to Taiwan had taken everything away.



* * *



? ? ?

When Mah got home later, I asked if she wanted my help setting up the chairs for her Bible study, but it wasn’t her turn to host. She was going to a fundraising dinner that Calvary was throwing for Auntie Ruby’s son, who was taking a leave of absence from Stanford to go on mission next year.

“Evan flunked out of freshman chemistry, calculus, everything. That’s really why,” Mah said. “Everyone knows, but no one will say that. Too shame.” A pleased expression glimmered in her eyes. “If Baba was here,” she added, “he could tutor that dummy boy.”

“Ba? I don’t think he’s ever coming back,” I muttered.

“What you say? Don’t talk crazy,” Mah said. “Of course he is.” Then she asked me about my piano lesson. “Ping told you about her mother?”

I started to say I was fine, but my voice choked up. I tried to swallow down my tears, but they turned into hiccups. Finally I just buried my face in my hands.

Mah sat down on the sofa next to me. For once she didn’t tell me to dry up the tears. “I know you really liked Ping,” she said. She stroked the back of my head gently. Her tenderness was a surprise.

“You didn’t say anything all week about Baba,” she said. “Until now.” I looked at her through my fingers, lost for a response. “I miss him, too,” she said softly.

The phone rang, and she got up to answer it. I heard Mah telling whoever was on the line that she would be late to the church dinner. Then she came back in and sat down next to me again.

“I’ll tell you something,” she said. “Listen to me. A real secret.” She hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “I was pregnant with you, before I marry your father.”

I glanced up into her face. Mah’s cheeks were slightly flushed. A light was in her eyes, like lamps turned on in a house at dusk.

“By the time I realized you were growing in my belly, he was gone to the US. I had to tell my parents.” Mah shook her head, almost as if she were still embarrassed. I’d never seen her so girlish. “They wanted him to move back right away, take his responsibility!”