The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane(70)

“I’ll always love indigo,” I tell him. “One might think I’d be tired of it. I wore that color every day until I went to Kunming, and every person I knew as a girl wore that same color. Instead, it reminds me of tradition and the comforts of home.”

He asks if I like dogs.

“I prefer cats, because they’re useful and mind their own business,” I explain. “Dogs are only good for omens and sacrificial eating.”

“Promise me you won’t eat my dog.”

“You have a dog? I love dogs!”

It’s not a concession. I’m not changing who I am to please him. I’d walk a dog and clean up its poop, like I see people do here in the city, because I like Jin and I want to spend time with him. (Turns out he was joking. A relief!) But every revelation is weighed. Could I bear that? Could I live with it?

By fall, my feelings for him have grown and changed. He hasn’t tried to kiss me. I understand we’re from different cultures and that it’s unusual for Han majority people to kiss or hug in public or for the most traditional couples even to show physical affection in private. Still, every time he uses the tip of his finger to slide a loose strand of hair behind my ear or takes my elbow to help me into his car, I feel the warmth that got me into so much trouble with San-pa. But I’m not a young girl anymore. I go to a Family Planning Office for birth control pills. If we ever decide to steal love, I’ll be ready. But when? I consider how much time we’ve spent together, and that’s when it hits me he’s holding something back far worse than his family’s tribulations in the countryside. Of course. So am I. Many things . . .





Haley’s Fifth-grade Spelling Words



Scrape

Cruel

Millionaire

Criminal

Annoy



Spain

Plastic

Boycott

Cauliflower

Tragedy



Homeless

Communicate

Imagination

Career

Youth



Professional

Ghost

Desalination

Groundwater

Sponge



1. Office buildings scrape the sky.

2. Friends can be cruel.

3. Most parents are millionaires.

4. If you ask a criminal what kind of job he has, he will say a government job.

5. I wish I had a sister to annoy me.

6. Will you send me a sister from Spain?

7. Grandma’s face looks like plastic.

8. Dad says people can boycott things they don’t like.

9. I want to boycott cauliflower.

10. A tragedy is when my violin teacher passes gas.

11. Homeless people must feel terrible.

12. I want my own phone to communicate.

13. Grandpa says I have an imagination “this big.”

14. All girls should have a career.

15. Youth in Asia is different from euthanasia.

16. Every year my mom hires a professional photographer to take pictures of me.

17. I wish I had a ghost to play with.

18. I will never use desalination in a sentence again.

19. I’m learning about groundwater in Miss Gordon’s class.

20. If I had a little sister, I would wipe her mouth with a sponge.





PART IV


THE BIRD THAT STANDS OUT


2007–2008





A CHICKEN, A GOAT, AND A COIN


To celebrate Western New Year’s Eve, Jin takes his mother and me to a restaurant at the top of a fancy hotel, which allows us to see the fireworks—giant blooms of light and stars—bursting over the city. He orders champagne, which I’ve spoken about to my customers but never tasted. Once it’s poured, he toasts us, wishing all prosperity, happiness, and golden health in the new year.

My toast is to Mrs. Chang. “Thank you for befriending a stranger.”

“May this be the first of many New Year’s celebrations—Western or lunar—we share together,” she says when her turn comes.

Her words are so bold. She’s a wishful mother of an unwed man in his late thirties, but I worry her pushing could drive him away. I try to compose myself—hiding my embarrassment behind a pleasant expression—before glancing in Jin’s direction. When I do, he’s right there, staring at me with such intensity that I immediately lower my eyes to the salted prawn on my plate.

A week later, on the first Sunday of the new year, Jin flies to Los Angeles for a series of meetings. When Mrs. Chang and I visit in the park during the week, we don’t discuss the awkward moments after her toast, but my mind is full of unspoken truths. I’ve fallen in love with Jin, but I’m not sure the feeling is reciprocated. I could try to shield my heart and say I don’t want to see him—or her—again, but what would that bring me? Immediate loneliness. I want to prolong this emotion as long as I can, even if it will cause me pain in the future.

That’s when my a-ma comes into my mind. Two years ago and now nearly ten years after San-pa’s terrible death, A-ma cautioned me, “You shouldn’t be alone.” She also said I shouldn’t let memories of the past turn me into someone I wouldn’t recognize, and I guess this proves I haven’t, because I’m as foolish and reckless as ever. But she also said, “The right person will find you and love you,” and I have to believe that’s happened, because, truly, won’t Jin have a moment when he realizes what he feels for me? What if he proposes, we go to Spring Well Village, A-ma and A-ba like him, and we’re married in a full Akha wedding—the kind I should have had all those years ago? What if, when we come back to Guangzhou, we find an apartment together? He certainly won’t have a crossbow, but what other possessions might he bring to our home? How will our lives unfold? What if we have a child? Just the thought of that . . .