A Map for the Missing(81)
“He’s often—look, I’ve had to travel with him a lot, and he always gets drunk and acts that way. He’s a good man when he’s sober. It makes us—what should I say—uncomfortable, when he acts like that.”
“Never mind,” she said. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does matter. I’m sorry I didn’t stop him from bothering you.”
“Really, it’s fine. We don’t need to talk about it.” She turned to leave the table.
“Wait, excuse me, waitress. Please come back.”
She winced at this name being used for her, the same the man had used that evening.
“I just wanted to know—by the time I called him back to the dining room that night, he’d been gone for so long. I should have gone earlier. When he got back, his hair was messed up and I was afraid—did anything happen?”
His voice was low. Even the way he talked around the implication was too much for her. She hadn’t told anyone what happened that evening.
“Nothing that bad,” she said. “So you don’t need anything else, right?”
“No—I suppose not.” He put his glasses back on, and he looked older again, even wearier than before.
She left the table. She only looked back at him again when he stood to leave, sneaking a glance when his head was turned away. Standing against the high and gilded ceiling, he was short, barely taller than her. It was hard to imagine him in any sort of stance that would protect her. Her irritation at him dissolved and she felt a certain kindredness with him, standing there, shrunken and too small for the world.
She shook the feeling away and returned to her work. Thinking of men was a luxury. If she ever caught herself looking too long at the way a handsome man crossed the street with his confident strides, she scolded herself, reminding herself of what her mother’s life looked like, her daily routines having hardly changed since Hanwen left for the village. A sense of expectancy permeated the corners of the house, as if, all this time, she was only waiting for Hanwen’s return for a container to pour her hopes into. She could not disappoint her mother’s hopes for something so small as love.
* * *
—
Her lie didn’t stop the man from coming to dinner for the next two days. She deliberately ignored plates to be sent to his table and refused to go to him until other waitresses had no choice but to step in. She never turned around to look at him, but she was sure she would have seen him staring if she had.
Near the end of the second evening, Auntie Bao was waiting for her in the kitchen when she walked in.
“There you are.” She handed Hanwen a plate of marinated tofu skins. “Give this to the man who’s eating alone in the eastern corner of the room. Tell him it’s on the house.”
“That’s not my table.”
She turned toward the kitchen exit, but Auntie Bao called her back.
“Hanwen, you aren’t a stupid girl, are you? That man has been watching you for two nights. He clearly has some interest in you, anyone can see that. Even I’ve noticed it.”
“Maybe he does. I don’t know.”
“I’m trying to help you here. He’s a good man. I spoke to him earlier, and he seems dependable. Nothing at all like some of the other men who come through here. He has a very good position. It’s rare to meet someone like this, Hanwen, I’m telling you. And he already likes you. Get over your shyness and go over there.”
Hanwen could see how Auntie Bao would see this situation, perform the addition and weighing, calculate how much there was to be gained.
“It’s not because I’m shy. I just don’t want to.”
“Oh, I know. You have some secret boyfriend you never told us about?”
“It’s not that, either.”
“Good. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t be as good a match as this one.” She thrust the plate at Hanwen again.
Hanwen took the dish from Auntie Bao’s outstretched hands but didn’t move.
Auntie Bao’s voice softened. “There’ll be more opportunities for a future. But you have to keep looking for them.”
Perhaps that was true, but weren’t there other options besides trawling for a husband amongst the diners in this hotel? Would all her books go to waste?
She walked out of the kitchen and to his table with a dull inertia pushing her steps. “The boss sent you this,” she said.
He looked surprised, before quickly rearranging his face into a more neutral expression. Quietly, he said, “I thought you weren’t going to speak to me again before I left.”
“I’m speaking to you now,” she said lamely.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this—”
“I really just don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She didn’t want an apology, not from the man who’d touched her and not from this other man, either. All she wanted was for the episode to be lost to the past.
“No, it’s not that. What I wanted to say was, even before what happened that night, I noticed you. You acted differently than the other women. Somehow.”
The line was a cliché, and besides, there wasn’t anything special about her. She’d worried earlier about what would arise from all her learning, but now she had her answer. It could help her attract a man, that was all.