Текст книги "Mambo in Chinatown"

Автор книги: Jean Kwok

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Four

On Sunday, Pa, Lisa and I went to temple to pray that my new job would be successful. The monks often put beautiful accessories on the golden idol of Kuan Yin, goddess of compassion, and today she had been clothed with a blue lace shawl. Kneeling in front of her, I’d whispered, “Please let me do it right this time.”

Since I didn’t have to be at the studio until the early afternoon, I had the mornings free.

“Maybe we could start reading Pilgrim’s Progress in the mornings now,” I said to Lisa.

“Umm, why don’t we wait and see how it goes with your new job? You’ll be so busy for a while. Maybe we should take a break with the reading.”

Sometimes I wasn’t sure that Lisa wanted to improve her mind. She saw my look and said, “Just a temporary one, Charlie.”

Lisa hugged me tightly before she left for Uncle’s office. “You’ll be great. You’re so much better than you think you are.”

Then Pa had stuck a bobby pin with a small red rose on it in my hair. “Red always brings good luck,” he said. “And you shouldn’t leave your hair just free like that. It’s too wild.” It was also because in times of mourning, Chinese unbind their hair as a sign of grief, to leave it loose and untamed. Pa was afraid that wearing my hair like that would bring on a period of despair. I wasn’t superstitious, but I kept the bobby pin in my hair. It felt like wearing a bit of Pa’s love.

Once Lisa and Pa had left, my fingers began to feel numb with fear again. Images of that glamorous studio flitted across my mind. This time, I would pay attention as best I could. No more stupid mistakes. This was my chance: no more immersing my hands in boiling water, no more shifting from leg to leg for hours to relieve the deep ache in my back, no more grease underneath my nails, no more lifting tubs filled with so many ceramic plates it felt like hoisting sandbags.

I dressed carefully, applying two heaping palmfuls of gel to flatten down my hair. I decided to wear pants: they couldn’t possibly go over as poorly as the dress had. The pants were somewhat baggy but plain and black, and I paired them with a big, pink cotton shirt patterned with large roses to match the flower in my hair. I wore my one pair of heels, relieved to find that the bare patches I’d colored in were mostly hidden by the pants.

Adrienne had asked me to come to the dance studio at one p.m., a half hour before it opened, to have the chance to get settled before everything began. I was hoping to have some quiet time. When I arrived, the reception area was dark and empty as I’d expected, but lights shone from the ballroom. I tentatively poked my head inside the double glass doors.

“Hello?” When no one answered, I pushed through to the next set of doors and peered into the main ballroom.

It was a blur of lights and people. A couple on the floor was dancing as Adrienne circled around them, analyzing and stopping them at different points. Two young women sat by the tables, watching.

I recognized the receptionist from last week, Nina, dancing with a broad Latin man. She wore a burgundy spaghetti-strap leotard with gray sweatpants rolled down to her hips, and high heels. Her shoulders and arms were tight with muscle, and as I watched, she did a series of high-speed turns around her partner. She stopped in between one heartbeat and the next. So, not a receptionist after all. She must have been a professional dancer filling in at the desk until they could hire someone.

Adrienne now stepped in to talk to them both. A beautiful loose, wide-sleeved shirt draped gracefully over her rounded middle. Then she caught sight of me through the doors and gestured for me to come in. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” she called.

“I’m early anyway,” I answered, entering the room.

“Hallelujah, you came!” Nina said, her hands clasped together in mock prayer. “Please don’t leave or they’ll make us take shifts playing receptionist again. We’re just running over because we’re struggling with the turns. I’m Nina and this is Mateo.”

Mateo, medium height with dark skin, was dressed in a black T-shirt and sweatpants. He extended his hand to me. When our palms touched, he looked down at them quickly as if he’d been startled, but said nothing, only gave me a quick smile. He turned to Nina and put his hand on his hip. “You’re off balance, sweetheart. Don’t blame me.”

Adrienne shook her head. “Not true.” She used her finger to draw a line from Mateo’s belly button up through his head. “Your arm that is leading her is off the alignment of her center. That’s why she’s having trouble. Do it again and I’ll show you how it should be done.”

I was relieved the center was important here too, something Godmother always told me in tai chi. It made me feel a bit more comfortable in this unfamiliar world. They repeated the move with Mateo doing the lady’s part, Adrienne teaching. Then Adrienne took Nina into dance position so that Adrienne was doing the man’s part. “Nina, you’re spotting straight during the triple but I think you should spot him instead. It’ll give this segment a more intimate look.”

Nina nodded and did the step with Adrienne. She spun and spun, then said, “What a difference!”

Finally Adrienne allowed Nina and Mateo to try the move again together. They executed it perfectly.

“It was my fault, my dear,” Mateo said to Nina. “Forgive me?” And he bent and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

I looked down. Some women were so lucky. I had never seen anything like this place. I felt a flash of sadness for Ma, who would have amazed them all, I thought, if she’d only had the opportunity.

Adrienne came over to me. “Charlie, I’m all yours now.”

We walked toward the two young women who were sitting at one of the tables set against the wall of the ballroom. I recognized the tall blonde from last week. Now that I was closer, I could tell that although she made a stunning impression from a distance, she seemed to be wearing heavy foundation. She sat straight, her collarbones protruding under her open black cocktail dress, and lean legs crossed.

Her companion was petite and dark, with short black hair. Unlike my hair now, her cut accentuated her large dark eyes and crimson lips, pulled in a half smirk. They both looked me up and down but didn’t say a word.

Adrienne said, “Charlie, this is Simone and Estella, two of our dancers. Charlie is our new receptionist.” Adrienne gazed at us, clearly expecting us to shake. Simone, the blonde, extended a languid hand to me and I took it.

I felt the softness of her palm, then she jerked it away. “Do you have a skin disease or something?”

“Simone!” Adrienne sounded furious.

Everyone stared at my right hand. It was red and callused, the skin broken and bleeding in a few places where the chapped skin had cracked. I was so used to everyone else at the restaurant having a body shaped by manual labor that it hadn’t occurred to me that my hands were unusual.

Adrienne put her hand on my shoulder and said, “That’s just a holdover from her last job. Come on, Charlie, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

As I walked past the two women, I didn’t miss the way they stared. Adrienne hissed, “Put some cream or whatever on that and get your skin back to normal as soon as possible, do you hear me?”

I nodded.

“I’m going out on a limb by hiring you. You have to look presentable and those hands are ridiculous. If necessary, slap some makeup on them.”

“I’ll fix them,” I promised, mortified.

Adrienne took me to my desk and showed me the phone system. “We have an accountant who comes in every week to settle the accounts, and Dominic and I handle most of the administration and billing, so your job is really to welcome the students, handle all of the bookings for the dancers and group classes, and take telephone calls. We’re on social media and have our own website but we still hire an old-fashioned telephone call center off-site that does the recruiting for our introductory classes. It’s so competitive in New York that we find we need every extra bit of help we can get.”

Adrienne brought out the appointment book and the sheets I needed to make for each dancer with their schedules. “We want every student to feel welcome from the moment they hear your voice on the phone. It’s very important to us to have everything run smoothly, from the first contact throughout all of the bookings for the lessons.”

The telephone caught my eye. It had many buttons. Adrienne saw my trepidation and said, “There’s an instruction sheet on how the phone system works.”

I swore to myself I’d study it every chance I had.

Adrienne took me on a tour of the studio. Behind the receptionist’s waiting room was another office, which Adrienne explained was used by the accountant, Dominic or her. The black leather couches in the reception area were for students or dancers on their breaks. Then there was the main ballroom, with her small office nestled inside it, and positioned at the end of the main ballroom was another door. We stepped through it into a smaller ballroom, with its own sound system and mirrored walls.

“We can use this room for wedding couples and group classes, also when students are rehearsing special numbers that require specific music,” Adrienne explained.

“How much are the private lessons here?” I wondered if I’d ever be able to take a few myself.

“A hundred and twenty dollars,” Adrienne said.

“For a package?”

“No. Per lesson.”

I almost choked. What kind of world was this? Godmother’s paid tai chi classes cost that much for several months of training.

Adrienne gave me a small smile. “Our dancers are some of the best in the world. We train our professionals with internationally renowned dancers like Julian Edwards, who will be coming in later. He’s not a part of our staff. He travels all over the world, giving coaching sessions to top professional dancers. We’re lucky he visits us regularly.” She had reached a door inside the small ballroom and she opened it. “The teachers’ room.”

I looked in to find a room filled with lockers on the wall, reminding me of my old high school. People had stuck posters and photos onto the fronts of their lockers. It smelled nice, like an expensive department store. There were small machines for coffee and tea, a microwave, a minifridge, a full-length mirror propped against the wall, and at the end, another door that was propped open. I could feel a slight breeze from outside.

“That door goes onto the roof of the adjacent building,” she said. “No smoking inside, so the smokers go out when they need to. You don’t smoke, do you?”

I shook my head.

A number of folding chairs were set up in the free space of the room.

Mateo stuck his head in through the door. “Should I start grabbing some of the chairs for the meeting?”

–

I looked around at the staff sitting in a circle in the small ballroom. Muted spotlights hanging from the ceiling gave the room an intimate glow. Nina and Mateo were already there, still bickering about something from their rehearsal. The blond Simone was next to Mateo, then came the petite brunette, Estella. A couple I didn’t know sat by Estella. Adrienne had saved a seat for me in between her and Dominic, who had just arrived.

Dominic stood up. “I think most of you have met Charlie, our new receptionist.”

Adrienne said, “Except for Viktor and Katerina, who are both from Russia.” She indicated the other couple. The tall man gave me a nod and the woman, who had a riot of chestnut curls, smiled at me in a friendly way. Everyone was watching me. I sat on my hands without thinking, trying to hide them.

Dominic said, “We hope she will be staying with us for a long time. Be nice to her or she will leave and we will make you answer the phones again.” He went over some sales numbers from our studio and others in the Avery chain. Apparently this studio was doing very well, except they were not keeping enough students from the introductory group lessons.

“What is going wrong?” Dominic asked. “Estella, since you most often teach the intro groups, can you tell me? We need to make sure they have a good time and want to return for private lessons.”

The flush on Estella’s cheeks made her look even prettier. She spoke with a faint French accent. “I do not know. I teach them. I do not tell them they are the clumsy elephants they are. I keep my mouth shut. I cannot help it if people do not want to continue.”

Adrienne broke in. “But you see, that attitude has to change. You’re calling them derogatory names.”

“Not to their face.”

“But in your mind, and they feel that. These are complete beginners. I need you to treat them with warmth and kindness.”

Estella pouted. “Let someone else teach them, then.”

Dominic said, “There is no one else. Nina is booked all of the time, Simone and Katerina usually have their competition students, the men are already overloaded with students in the evening hours. Please, Estella, try to be a bit nicer to the students.” His look was gentle.

Estella’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Yes, I will try.”

Then Adrienne said, “Remember that there is a party this week for the students on Thursday evening and the theme is Hawaiian, so please don’t come dressed like a belly dancer or an Egyptian. One last point. While we are very happy about the affection between our students and our staff, there is a line between dancing and hanky-panky. Please remember that. Thanks, everyone. Get dressed now, as our first students will be coming in soon. Charlie, if you could please wait for us for a few minutes in the ballroom while Dominic and I finish updating the accounts from last week. Then we’ll get you started.”

–

Estella and Simone had taken up their former places at the table in the main ballroom since they were already dressed for the day. I took a seat at the table next to theirs but none of us said anything to each other.

A man with blond wavy hair was waiting by the mirror. I imagined he was Julian Edwards. He had a prominent nose, and a pronounced cupid’s bow above a full underlip. There was something in his walk—his weight low and centered—that reminded me of Godmother, though he was much younger. The Russian couple, Katerina and Viktor, entered the ballroom and greeted him. They took dance position and began to move across the floor.

Julian watched for a few minutes, then stopped the couple in midstep, very close to where we were sitting. Although they’d been gliding across the room a moment ago, they froze the moment he touched them, completely balanced. Katerina’s leg was extended behind her red Lycra dress with her toe pointed, her head arched back. Viktor, extremely thin, all long arms and legs, made me think of a giant stick insect.

“Viktor, if I may.” Julian gently extracted Viktor from Katerina and took his place. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and arched her back slightly more, turned her head a fraction to the left. “You have a lovely position, Katerina, but we need a bit more stretch here to balance the pivot turns.” There was something British in his voice.

He stepped away and allowed Viktor to take position again. At his nod, they resumed as if nothing had interrupted them and flew across the ballroom. They looked like a fairy tale come true as they flowed across the floor, their long strides eating up the ballroom, Katerina’s expression a blend of joy and passion.

Now that they were out of hearing distance, Simone and Estella spoke to each other in mock whispers. I watched them in the mirrored wall facing us.

“Julian has such . . . line,” Simone sighed.

Estella giggled. “I’d do a dip with him anytime.” They both laughed. “You have to admit,” she continued, “Viktor and Katerina look good together.”

“Of course, they’ve been dancing together since they were five or something in Russia. He’s a powerful dancer but Katerina . . .”

“She is big, isn’t she?” said Estella.

“She would never have been allowed to keep all that weight at Juilliard,” Simone said. I studied Katerina. She was tall, broad-shouldered and voluptuous. She was more athletically built than the model-thin Simone, but to my eyes she was stunning.

“You’re so bad,” Estella said with a laugh.

I barely knew I had spoken aloud: “I think she’s lovely.”

Both women glared at me. “Were we talking to you?” Simone said.

I’d just arrived at the studio and they already disliked me.

–

A few weeks passed, and Uncle and Aunt were taking us out to dinner because it was Uncle’s birthday. The glamour of the dance studio had already rubbed off on me a bit. I chose a dress with an open neckline that evening and put on lipstick. The dress was quite modest but revealed my neck and collarbones. I understood the moment Pa paused that I’d done wrong.

“Don’t you like it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You look like a dancing girl,” he said.

“Ma was one,” Lisa said.

“Your mother was a dancer,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

“She wore beautiful clothes too.” I glanced at the photo of Ma onstage.

He sighed. “Your mother was a very lovely woman.” His face softened. “And she was already married to me. Come on, put on something befitting a modest girl. And maybe you should wash your face too.”

I felt the familiar knot of anger rise in my throat and swallowed it down again. Did he have any idea what other young women my age were wearing? What they were doing? I was too old to be living at home with Pa. He was so protective, he wanted to keep me away from boys until I turned twenty-five, at which point he would expect me to somehow be married. There was no in-between phase.

But I didn’t think I could leave my family. Lisa needed me, and I couldn’t leave Pa with all the bills to pay alone. My sister had been only three when our mother died of a massive stroke. At fourteen, I was the one who’d comforted Lisa on the nights when there was no one to hold either one of us anymore. Pa had shrunken into himself. He could barely care for himself, let alone two young girls. He would just scratch the back of his head, rub his eyes like he had something in them, then retreat to his own room again.

When Ma was alive, I used to breathe in her scent. On the surface was the oil and sweat of the restaurant, but underneath that was her smell, cool and lemony. I still floated in that bubble of loving her with everything that I was. I had Pa but I loved him in a different way. After Ma’s death, everything had changed. It was afterward that I truly hated school and my classes became so difficult. The other kids ignored me, the teachers found me to be a silent problem, sullen and unresponsive at the back of their rooms. I’d had Winston, Zan and another friend, Mo Li, but then Winston had left me as well. I couldn’t do chitchat with a big crowd of girls like Grace could. I was tactless, too honest, hopeless at pretending, and I was also miserable. I just did my best to hide away in my baggy clothing, and Pa had no idea how to guide me to become a woman either, which was just fine with me. There’d been a few boys in high school who’d liked me anyway but none of them turned into anything serious, especially since I had to hide the relationship at home.

And now here we were. I obeyed Pa and put on a shapeless top that covered my neck, and a thick pair of pants. I gritted my teeth and took off the lipstick as well. Pa nodded in approval when I came out. Lisa made a face at me behind his back and we wrinkled our noses at each other.

Then, at the last minute, just as we were supposed to leave, Lisa said, “I’m not feeling so well. Maybe I should just stay home.” She was hardly ever sick. And we so rarely got to eat at a restaurant, I knew she must really feel lousy to decide to miss it. I went over to her and smoothed out her hair. Her forehead felt sticky underneath my hand.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m not hungry,” she whispered, “and I see Aunt and Uncle every day anyway.”

I said, “Maybe she’s tired since school’s just started again.”

Pa shook his head. “You have to come, Lisa, we cannot disgrace ourselves this way. This is an important day for Aunt and Uncle and they have reserved a table at the restaurant. We are their only family. We cannot let them down. I promise we won’t stay too long.”

But we both knew we would. Pa always forgot his promises once he was with Uncle Henry and they were chatting and laughing about old times.

–

I was surprised to find Dennis seated next to Uncle Henry at the restaurant. Uncle even had an arm slung around the back of Dennis’s chair, laughing at something he’d said, while Aunt Monica beamed. It was unusual for an assistant to be invited to a family event, but I understood. Dennis was becoming the son Uncle and Aunt had never had.

I sat between Dennis and Lisa, and when we were choosing what to order, I said, “How about Peking duck?” I knew that was Lisa’s favorite dish.

The older people gave me disapproving looks. “Charlie,” Pa said. “We never have duck for a birthday celebration.”

Of course. Duck eggs were used in funeral rites and thus duck was bad luck at other times. For a birthday, the “three lives” were acceptable: chicken, pork and fish. Noodles were always necessary too, to represent longevity of life. They ordered pork in black bean sauce, noodles, a soy sauce chicken complete with head and claws to symbolize wholeness, a tofu dish and a whole steamed carp. Although Pa loved fish with bitter melon, nothing bitter was permitted on a birthday, lest the taste bring bad luck in the year to come. Pa, Aunt and Uncle started to drone on about their times in China and the people they’d known then. I felt overwhelmed with shyness next to Dennis. Even though Lisa and he worked together, they didn’t speak either.

Finally he said to me, “So are you still in school?”

“No.” There was an awkward pause. I didn’t want to discuss my dishwashing job or the studio. I made an effort. “You did your degree in pharmacology?”

He brightened. “Yes. I’ll probably go back to school for my master’s in a few years but I wanted to explore my options before I did. So much of eastern medicine is uncharted territory.”

At that moment, the inevitable noodle dish arrived. Uncle took a bite and said to Pa, “Ah, these are good but nothing compared to yours.”

Pa roared his great laugh. “You put the tall hat of flattery on my head. I am an illiterate man, you are the one of learning. Older brother, you are doing so well. Are you ever going to expand your office?”

“This is my home. No, I don’t want to leave Chinatown. These are my people. I live for them.” I could tell he meant it.

Dennis smiled. “Your dedication is admirable, Mr. Wong.”

Uncle Henry patted Dennis on the arm and spoke to Pa. “This young man can practically run my office without me already. He has already taken over some of the more standard cases, which frees me to visit patients at their homes.”

“Here, eat more,” Aunt Monica said, heaping my plate with a pile of mushrooms, which I didn’t like. But since mushrooms brought good luck, I would be in trouble if I didn’t eat them on Uncle Henry’s birthday. I started chewing my way through the pile. She eyed me. “You don’t look very well.”

I was embarrassed she’d said that in front of Dennis, who was politely pretending not to listen. “What do you mean?” This was so unfair. Pa had made me take off my makeup and now I was going to get crap because I didn’t look pink enough.

“You are skinny and anemic,” she said.

“Maybe I have something for you,” Uncle Henry said.

“Oh no. No,” I said. I knew what this would mean: a gift from his office. I’d already consumed enough strange animals boiled in bitter herbs. “I’ve just started a new job. That’s the only reason I am more tired than usual. It will get easier soon.”

Pa said with pride, “She is working in an office.”

“Really?” Uncle made an impressed face. “Going up in the world, eh? What are you doing?”

I took a deep breath. “Data entry. Some telephone work. In Midtown.”

“Oh, good, good.” Uncle dug out the eyeball of the fish and put it in Pa’s bowl. “What a delicacy, eh? Take more, brother. But especially if you are starting something new, you need more energy. In fact, both of your girls look a bit pale.”

Lisa was resting her chin on her hands, as if she was exhausted.

Uncle said, “I have a fresh shipment of Tibetan caterpillars.”

“No!” I said.

Aunt Monica glowered at me. “Silly girl, those caterpillars sell by weight for twice the price of gold. They can cure infection, inflammation, fatigue, phlegm. Even cancer!”

“Really?” Pa’s eyes widened.

I nudged Lisa underneath the table for help, knowing that we would be force-fed the valuable caterpillars if we didn’t stop this now. I didn’t care whether they worked or not, I still didn’t want to eat any worms.

Lisa raised her head and said, “I feel just fine.”

“Harvested by nomads,” Uncle Henry said. “The caterpillars only live in the grasslands above ten thousand feet and are infected by a parasite, a type of fungus. The fungus kills the caterpillar, then feeds on its body. That is why they are so powerful.” Uncle waved his chopsticks at Pa for emphasis. “I will give you a few. Boil them with ginseng until the soup condenses to the size of one rice bowl. It’ll be nice and concentrated.”

Lisa and I exchanged a look. We were sunk.

“Amazing,” Dennis said.

“Why don’t you take them?” I said.

Pa gave me a quelling look. “We cannot possibly accept them for free, brother. No, you must eat too. We will pay full price.”

“Ridiculous, you are my own family. A token amount is enough, one dollar per caterpillar.”

“That is insane. We must give you at least ninety percent, how else will you survive? You will go out of business like this.”

This reverse haggling went on for a while, with Pa fighting to chip in more and Uncle arguing for him to pay less, until they arrived at what they both secretly felt was the right price for a family member, about sixty percent of the retail price. Lisa and I were used to this. At the end of the meal, there would be a similar fight over the check, with everyone struggling to pay until the person who was actually supposed to get the check won. In this case, it would be Uncle who paid since he had invited us. It all seemed senseless to me but it had to do with honor. Even though Uncle’s medicines were so expensive, half of Chinatown credited him with saving their lives.

“How do you really feel?” I asked Lisa in a low voice.

“My head hurts. We’re not going to leave early.”

“I know. He always forgets. But let him have a good time. I guess he doesn’t have much else.”

Lisa sighed and we both looked at Pa as I put my hand over hers and she gripped it. She spoke in a low voice. “I’m glad I have you, Charlie. Sometimes I’m scared.”

This didn’t sound like Lisa. I tried to get her to perk up. “You should be afraid of that caterpillar soup.”

She smiled for the first time that evening. “Believe me, I am.”