Last Night at the Telegraph Club(52)

A small white disc appeared. It was only the size of a pencil eraser, and then the size of a quarter, and slowly, bit by bit, its true face emerged.

“Welcome to the moon,” the lecturer said as the audience gasped. “We are using state-of-the-art imagery here. This photograph, which we will be exploring in detail, comes directly from the Lick Observatory. You’ll be seeing parts of the moon that very few men have seen before.”

The moon grew in size; it hung above them in a giant black-and-white orb. Huge circular craters dotted the landscape. There were blinding white patches and deep, dark shadows.

“The moon is a world of extremes,” the lecturer continued in his hushed, deep voice. “In the harsh light of the sun, the temperature can easily rise to two hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but simultaneously, in those darkest areas, it can be as cold as two hundred degrees below zero.”

Judy glanced at Lily while the lecturer spoke. Her niece’s face was illuminated by the bright moon above, which was reflected as a tiny black-and-white sphere in her eyes. Her mouth was open slightly. She looked like someone seeing a new world for the first time.

“The surface of the moon might be covered in dust. But we can’t be certain about it until we send someone there to check. Someday, man will be able to travel to the moon in a rocket ship. Once he has reached the surface of the moon, he’ll be able to drive a golf ball a hundred miles with one stroke because the gravity is so light. He’ll be able to jump a dozen feet into the air if he wants. He will feel light as air.”

Judy reached for her husband’s hand. He laced his fingers in hers as they sat together beneath the projection of the moon. She felt an exhilarating distance from the Earth, and yet a comforting closeness to these people she loved. Francis, with his warm hand in hers; Lily, with her awe-stricken face beside her. I am here, Judy told herself silently. This is San Francisco.



* * *



—

After the show, Judy felt light-headed and a bit wobbly on her feet. She linked her arm with Lily’s as they joined the crowd leaving the museum; everyone seemed a bit wobbly after their trip to the moon and back.

“Do you think that man is right?” Lily asked as they jostled their way outside. “That we can fly to the moon in a rocket ship?”

“It’s a long way off, but yes,” Judy said.

Lily’s face brightened. “How long?”

“Years,” Judy said. “What do you think, Francis?”

“I don’t know. Thirty, forty years? Certainly within your lifetime, Lily.”

Outside the museum, they walked across the wide plaza toward the steps that led down to the street, where taxis waited at the curb. Car engines rumbled to life in the parking lot beyond, their headlights illuminating people walking through the crisp night air.

“Would they really be able to jump so high on the moon?” Lily asked.

“Well, the gravity is much lighter there,” Judy said. “I’m sure I could calculate how high a man could jump.” Judy considered the math and laughed. “Oh, it would be funny to see!”

“They could hop on the moon,” Francis said. “Like a giant bunny rabbit.” He reached the sidewalk and began to hop down it awkwardly, flapping his arms as if he were a seagull.

Judy laughed. Francis was so childlike sometimes; she thought it was his Americanness coming out. “That’s not how it would look!” Judy chided him. “It would be much more graceful.”

“Like what?” he challenged her. “Show me.”

Judy saw several bystanders surreptitiously watching them. “Oh, Francis, I can’t—”

“Why not?” he called. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

Judy shook her head, but she slipped her arm out of Lily’s and handed her purse to her niece. “Hold this,” she said. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she elevated her arms as if she were a ballet dancer and lightly leaped across the sidewalk. “Very little gravity,” she called over her shoulder. “Light as a feather!”

Judy saw Lily break into laughter. She saw Francis’s face, surprised and overjoyed all at once. He leaped after her, and when he caught up, he enfolded her in his arms. She let out a giggle as she pretended to push him away, but after a second she relented and allowed him to hold her.

Francis was bold, and he kissed her gently on the lips. “My moon lady,” he said under his breath.

In China, she would be embarrassed to be kissed by her husband in public, but this was America. Things were different here.





PART IV



Chinatown, My Chinatown



December 1954





25





Jean Warnock came striding out of the darkness beside Kath, smoking a cigarette, wearing a blazer and slacks, her hair cut short and a smirk on her mouth. Her eyes raked Lily up and down once, twice, and then she extended her hand and said, “Lily? I’m afraid I don’t remember you.”

Lily was a little affronted, but she shook Jean’s hand. It was limp, as if her handshake hadn’t yet caught up to the clothes she was wearing. Lily squeezed back more forcefully than necessary, as if to prove a point. When she released Jean’s hand, she said, “You must be Jean.” She refrained from adding, I don’t remember you either.