American Panda(58)

Upon closer inspection, the scraps of paper and worn trinkets weren’t garbage—they were memories. A crumpled picture of Nǎinai, clearly well loved and often looked at through the years. A receipt from a dinner for two. Figurines of oxen, Nǎinai’s zodiac year and therefore her favorite animal. Maybe Yilong’s hoarding was more than met the eye—it was a way for her to express herself. Similar to how my father showed his love by demanding Nainai’s funeral be here, close to the joint cemetery plot he had purchased years ago after Yéye’s death.

I placed the bottle of multivitamins at the front of the altar and whispered, “Eat your vitamins,” to Nainai one last time.

Clasping my hands in front, I stepped onto the raised platform. Then I stopped breathing.

It was Nǎinai but not. The cadaver’s skin sagged, signaling she was gone. The makeup was caked on, but instead of hiding the lack of life, it drew more attention to it. A tear trailed off my chin onto her cheek.

“Nǎinai,” I whispered, so softly I could barely hear myself. “I’m so sorry.”

My words caught in my throat. I lifted a shaky palm but pulled back before it left my side. We rarely touched before, and now it was too late. The body before me wasn’t her anymore.

“I wish it didn’t end like this. I wish you could hear me right now. I wish you could’ve seen me for who I was—a loving daughter and granddaughter who just wanted to be heard. Wanted to be happy. I wish you could’ve understood, but we’re from two different worlds. Good-bye, Nǎinai. Rest in peace.”

Footsteps. Behind me.

I whirled around. The sight of my mother made the lump in my throat swell. I longed to go to her, but she felt like a stranger.

I held her gaze and she stared back, the moment stretching. My breath blew out hot in the silence.

“You have to go,” she said finally, her face tight with worry. “He’ll know I told you. About the funeral. I wasn’t supposed to.”

That was it? I shook my head in disappointment. “Nǎinai’s gone, you have no children, and that’s the first thing you think of?? You know, I used to think that one day you’d learn to stand up for yourself. Then, when I realized you wouldn’t, I thought—hoped—maybe you’d at least stand up for me. Or Xing. But I’ve finally accepted that it will never happen. Bǎbá is all you have now. And Yilong. I hope you’re happy with the people you’ve chosen.”

More footsteps, heavy and angry this time. My mother’s eyes widened in fear. I didn’t need to turn around to know that I should brace myself for—

“Get out!” Yilong screamed. “You’re not allowed here! You murdered her!”

My father’s face twisted into a deep scowl—brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw tensed. I glanced at my mother, hoping she had internalized my words, but she merely opened her mouth, no sounds coming out.

Three deep breaths. I concentrated on my chest rising and falling, imagining my lungs filling and emptying of air. I had to calm down before I said something I could never take back.

Yilong grabbed my arm and yanked, causing me to stumble over the step. I fell, catching myself on Nǎinai’s walker.

“Don’t touch that!” Yilong screeched.

I let go, not because she had ordered me to, but because touching the walker felt like touching Nǎinai’s ghost.

I turned to my parents. “Isn’t Nǎinai’s death enough? Can’t we compromise now? I’ll never be able to make up with her—don’t you want better for us?”

My father’s voice was more gravelly than usual. “This isn’t a negotiation. If you want to make up, you know what it takes.”

Air rushed in through my mouth, scratching my sandpaper throat. I said nothing.

He turned his back to me. “Leave. I don’t want you here. Nǎinai doesn’t want you here.”

Something snapped inside me. I found my voice, and I spoke clearly while staring straight into my father’s eyes. “Can’t you see a piece of me dies every time I ignore what I want and just do what you say? I wish you could accept me the way I am.”

In a gust of wind, Xing and Esther walked through the door.

I shouldn’t have been surprised—I was the one who had told them where and when the funeral was—but I had hoped they would disappear into the crowd like I had, not show up at the worst possible moment.

“Get out! Gun!” Yilong yelled. “How dare you bring Nǎinai’s murderer here to rub her dead nose in!”

Xing remained calm, but his eye twitched—a flash of anger I knew to look for. “I want to say good-bye to Nǎinai.”

Yilong turned in a semicircle, pointing first at Xing, then Esther, then me. “None of you belong here. You’re not family.” She clenched her fists, then took a step toward Esther. “This is all your fault!”

Esther instinctively covered her belly with her hand. It was only a second before her arm dropped back to her side, but I noticed. So did my mother, whose eyes were so wide they were about to pop out of their sockets.

Xing’s gaze met my mother’s, and unspoken understanding flickered between them. Joy filled her face, completely out of place in the dim funeral home.

My mother turned to Esther and spoke to her for the first time. Like she was human. “Are you pregnant?”