Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(73)

I’m happy to be with Thomas, but everything else feels out of place.

The noises, the people, the buildings are odd.

I don’t want to go outside.

Mother died going outside.

I feel more comfortable with my books while I wait for Thomas to come home.

He’s been having problems finding a job and I think moving back into Mother’s home in Chinatown is best for us. I can’t deny that I want to be back to the only place I’ve felt at ease.

I want to go home and this isn’t home.



I couldn’t imagine Ma-ma living anywhere but here. This entry contained the first signs of her agoraphobia. She had never taken to change well. Moving out to a new place must have been stressful for her.

I gripped the edges of the journal tighter. I’d known about Laolao’s death, but the details of my father’s departure were unknown.


One day, my love, you will play for the symphony.

You need to believe that your seat is waiting before an audience.

I wish I could banish your disappointment.

I see you come home, time and again, without the job you deserve.

I hope you know that I will always believe in you, Thomas.

You will succeed.

Mama once told me that a talent like yours . . . your erhu can tame dragons. The same dragons that adorn your arms.

You are strong, my love.

Give it more time . . .



Father or not, Mr. Kuk Wah and his erhu played to the soul. I had never imagined two strings could create a bridge into one’s being, the way his playing did. It was his true voice. Even Laolao had acknowledged it. No wonder Ma-ma and I were held spellbound. The erhu spoke every emotion, and its vocabulary was melody instead of words. Even now, I yearned to hear it.

Father. Why didn’t you tell me? You must have known I was your daughter because you kept coming back to see me. Or did you not know?

I had too many questions. Questions like marbles poured into a balloon, unsettled, bulging, and threatening to break through the thin latex.

I had one journal left to read and no room inside me for the words right now.

The sky was the darkest shade. The candles on the coffee table had diminished into stumps while the clock ticked, marking the time I had wandered into the forest of my mother’s thoughts. My dreams would be restless tonight.



* * *





?The next morning I invited Celia over for a breakfast of congee with pickled cucumbers and shredded pork. The dried scallop and duck wings added an extra dimension of flavors to the plainness of the rice porridge. Crowned with delicate rings of spring onion and golden bits of fried garlic, the bowls of steaming porridge were comfort food. Our toppings of choice were crunchy pickled cucumbers and sweet shredded pork floss.

“So you’re down to the last diary,” Celia said. “How do you feel?”

I appreciated Celia being respectful in not asking for details. I wasn’t ready yet to disclose my father’s identity because of all the questions I still had. I placed my spoon into the empty bowl with a sharp clink. “I can’t stop thinking about my father. With all of our family secrets, how does he fit in? I can kind of understand why Ma-ma didn’t tell me about Laolao. Their relationship was complicated, but full of love. It was made worse when Laolao didn’t approve of my mother’s marriage, but after all these years, I think Ma-ma still mourned her mother. It was too painful for her to talk about.”

“And your father?”

“I always thought she hated him, but now that I’ve read the journals, I see that she did love him.”

Why had Mr. Kuk Wah left us? Hadn’t he loved her as much as she had loved him? Again, questions cluttered my brain, overwhelming in their number and importance. I wanted my father to return so I could speak to him.

Celia turned her head toward the windows facing the street. “It’s early. You have time to finish that last book. Good thing it’s the weekend. You can read all day.”

“Do you mind if I text you if I need something?” I felt silly for asking, but she smiled as she packed up.

“Of course not. It’ll be a welcome distraction from playing sudoku.”

Celia waved goodbye as she let herself out.

I transferred my attention to the final journal on my lap. Its weight was deceitful. An object so light couldn’t possibly contain all of my hopes and apprehension. Taking a deep breath, I dove in.


How can I be so happy yet so afraid at the same time?

These emotions didn’t comingle like a pair of chopsticks.

They were separate and one came with great shame. So it must be hidden in a box and brought out when you weren’t here.

The call finally came this evening. A job opportunity. An audition with an international traveling symphony. Your dream. Our dream. The once intangible was now yours.

You would be gone for a few days. Only a few days. To me, it would feel like years.

You wanted me to come with you.

I wanted to, but I was terrified.

I couldn’t leave the apartment.

Ma-ma left the apartment and she died.

No, I couldn’t leave. Bad things happened. Too dangerous. The world out there wasn’t safe. This was why I stayed. I was safe here, protected, alive.

I didn’t want you to leave.

But your dream, which became mine, was too precious. I couldn’t deny you this.