The Leavers(98)

When Daniel was Deming, he had thought his mother was invincible. She was louder, funnier, faster, and smarter than other adults, and he could never keep secrets from her, about his grades or if he’d been having regular dumps or if those were his crumbs that had spilled on the floor. She wasn’t particularly strict, or cruel, but she was sharp, one step ahead. She was competent, she worked hard, and no matter how tired she was, there was always concern or vigilance left over for him. Yet at some point, this had changed.

To their left was a railing, and below was the park. Daniel stopped. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Leon stopped, too. “Your mother, she’s complicated.”

Daniel wished he knew how to say understatement in Chinese.

“You meant more to her than anything. Whatever’s making her scared to talk to you, it doesn’t erase that.”

“She never even told her husband about me.”

“Is that so.”

They stood against the railing, watching cars pass. It was past noon. The sun was searing and Daniel wished he had sunglasses. He’d left his in Ridgeborough.

They began to walk again, more slowly. “When I saw her, after she got back,” Leon said, “there was something broken in her. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You saw her? You said you only spoke to her on the phone.”

“We did see each other. It was when Yimei was a baby.”

“But you told me—”

“Don’t blame Vivian or your mother. Blame me. I left on my own. If only we could do it over again, Deming, we could still be there, on that ugly couch your mother hated.”

“We’d have bought a new one by now.” A black SUV with tinted windows barreled down the hill. “Did you know I went back to the apartment about a year after you left? A new family was living there.”

“Sometimes,” Leon said, “when Shuang and I are tucking Yimei into bed, I think, this is the way it turned out. This is my life, the woman who wanted to marry me, the child we had. How could I give this up now?”

Daniel thought of playing a show, coming to and hearing the cheers of the crowd. “I think the same thing sometimes.”

“So maybe she thinks the same thing, too,” Leon said.

Daniel saw two apartment buildings across the street, half hidden by a clump of bushes. His mother, with her new life—it wasn’t the same thing. He needed to tell her she couldn’t just walk out on him, pretend he didn’t exist. “I still want to find her.”

HOURS LATER, THEY HAD gone to all the visible buildings in the neighborhood with balconies and the heat had become sweltering. They chugged bottles of water they’d bought at a convenience store, where Daniel had seen a woman his mother’s age and had a flash of hope it would be her, though the woman looked nothing like her. They reminisced about New York, and Daniel told Leon about Ridgeborough, how he was taking a break from school.

He was getting more comfortable speaking in Chinese, no longer caring so much. Even if each sentence took effort, and even if he felt more like himself in English, hearing and speaking Chinese was like replaying an album he hadn’t listened to in years, appreciating how solid the sound was.

“Should we go back to the buildings without guards, see if there’s a way we could get in?” At Leon’s apartment, there would be beers waiting. He could come back here another day, but doubted he would.

“Maybe,” Leon said.

“You want to go back?”

“Soon.”

They turned up another street, steeper than the last, the park only slightly visible below. “Let’s go back.”

“Here, let’s try this building.” Ahead of them was a six-story structure with a silver gate, balconies protruding from the sides. There was a list of names on the outside. “There’s a Gao, but no Guo.”

“Let’s go back,” Daniel said. “I’ll try the Internet café tomorrow, find English schools.” But he had lost steam for the search. It had been enough to spend the afternoon with Leon. He could always tell himself that he had looked, that he’d tried.

“Wait.” Leon pointed. “Over there.”

Daniel followed Leon’s finger and saw a speck of water, so far down he could barely tell what it was. “Yeah, you can see the ocean. We must be pretty high up.”

“Deming. Where did your mother like to go when she was a little girl? Where did she like to go in New York City?”

“To the river. But we’re in the middle of the city. There’s no river nearby.”

“If she was going to live in an apartment with a balcony, what would she want to see from there? Water! This is the street she lives on,” Leon said. “It has to be.”

They continued up the hill. The next two buildings had no balconies, so they skipped them. At the end of the block was one last building. It had balconies.

“This is where she lives,” Leon said, and Daniel wished he could match Leon’s conviction.

The security guard was an older man with a jowly face, reading a paperback inside a narrow booth. “Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for a Peilan or Polly that lives in your building,” Leon said. “Would it be possible to ring her apartment?”

“There isn’t anyone by that name here.”