by Tan, Amy
“Calm yourself,” he said. “Another one can be issued by the consulate easily enough.”
It was hard to hear what my mother was saying. She was mumbling to herself … something about an orderly office … never misplacing anything.
“You’re losing your mind, Lulu,” Fairweather said. “Come here. We can fix this easily enough.”
She mumbled again and all I could hear was the word stolen.
“Come now, Lu darling, be rational. Why would anyone want to steal Violet’s birth certificate? It doesn’t make sense. Put it out of your mind. I can get both her birth certificate and passport from the consulate tomorrow. What name did you put on the birth certificate? That’s all I need to know.”
I heard her say the name “Tanner,” and “husband” and “American.”
“Married?” Fairweather said. “I knew you loved him and the two of you lived together. But you certainly went to extremes for Violet’s sake. Well, that’s all good to hear. It means she is an American and of legitimate birth, a citizen. Just think how difficult it would have been if you had used the name of her real father, the Chinese one.”
I felt punched by his words. Why did this despicable man know so much about me?
In the evening, Fairweather returned with a downcast face. He and my mother went to her office. I took my usual position in Boulevard. I had already taken care earlier in the day to put the doors ajar and part the curtains. “They have no record of birth for Violet,” he said.
“That’s impossible. Are you sure you used the right name?” She wrote furiously on a sheet of paper and showed it to him.
“I used the very name and spelled it correctly, as you’ve written it. There is no record for Violet, no child at all for Lulu Minturn. I was thorough and checked that as well.”
“How stupid of me,” Mother said. “We used my given name, Lucretia, on both the marriage certificate and her birth certificate. Here, I’ll write it down.”
“Lucretia! I must confess, the name doesn’t suit you. What else have you kept from me? Another husband? Any more names I can use to investigate further?”
“This is absurd. I’ll go down immediately and get the damn certificate myself.”
“Lulu darling, there is no point in doing so. They likely lost a box of records, and no amount of strong-arming is going to unearth it in time for your departure from Shanghai.”
“If we cannot get her a passport,” Mother said, “we are not leaving. We’ll simply have to wait.”
She would wait for me. She loved me. This was proof I had never had before.
“I figured you would say that, so I’ve come up with my own timely solution. I’ve found someone highly placed, a genuine pooh-bah who has agreed to help. I cannot reveal his identity—that’s how important he is. But I did him a favor once, which I have kept secret for many years—an indiscretion involving the son of a man whose name you would recognize, a Chinese celestial to many. So the pooh-bah and I are excellent friends. He assures me we can obtain the necessary paperwork that will allow Violet to enter the United States. I simply have to declare that I am her father.”
I nearly shouted in disgust. My mother laughed. “How fortunate that is not the truth.”
“Why do you insult your daughter’s savior? I’ve been going to a great deal of trouble to help.”
“And I am waiting for you to tell me how you would accomplish that and what you want in exchange for your trumped-up fatherhood. I won’t deceive myself into thinking our catapulting passion the other night is compensation enough.”
“Another round of that will be. I take nothing as profit. The money needed is for necessary expenses only.”
“By the way, since honesty is at issue here, what is your real name, the one you propose to give Violet?”
“Believe it or not, it really is Fairweather, Arthur Fairweather. I turned it into a joke before others could make it one.”
The fake father laid out his plans. Mother would have to give him the money now to purchase the two cabins on the ship and to compensate the pooh-bah. He would deliver the tickets in the morning and whisk me to the consulate. At noon, she should send the trunks on to the ship and board early to safeguard the cabins from squatters. Fairweather sounded too lighthearted, too practiced to be telling the truth. He wanted her money.
“Do you doubt that I can accomplish this?”
“Why would I not go to the consulate as her mother?”
“Forgive me for being frank, Lulu dear, but the American government is not inclined to show the new Chinese government that it provides special favors to those whose establishments cater to happiness of the flesh. Everyone has suddenly developed shining morals. You are too famous, too notorious. I do not think my pooh-bah friend would push the limits of his position. Violet will be registered under my name and I can say that her mother is my late wife, Camille—and yes, I had a wife, but I will not talk about her now. Once we have both her birth certificate and passport, Violet and I shall board the ship as father and sweet child and then happily rejoin you. Why are you frowning? Of course I am coming with you, darling. Why am I going to all this trouble? Do you still not believe that I truly love you and want to be by your side forever?”
There was a long silence, and I imagined they were kissing. Why did she believe him without question? Did a few kisses once again empty her brain that quickly? Was she going to introduce this crook to her son as “your sister’s dear devoted father”?
“Violet and I will share a cabin,” my mother said at last, “and you will have the other to yourself—in consideration of the late Mrs. Fairweather and my notoriety, as you put it.”
“You want me to woo you all the way to San Francisco, is that it?”
Silence followed. They were kissing again, I was sure of it.
“Let’s get to the business end of this,” she said. “What do I owe you for this show of affection?”
“It’s fairly straightforward. The cost of the cabins, the monetary gratitude to the pooh-bah, and his inflated price of whatever bribe he had to pay someone else. Influence of this sort does not come cheaply or honestly. When you see the sum, you may think the berths are dipped in gold. It’s a painful amount, and it has to be paid in the old standard of Mexican silver dollars. No one knows how long the new currency will hold.”
More silence followed. My mother cursed. Fairweather went over the details again. She pointedly asked how much of that amount was profit to him, to which he rumbled with anger at her ingratitude for all he was doing. Not only was he calling in all his favors, he stated, but he was also leaving Shanghai a pauper. He was due to be paid a large sum in two weeks. But for her, he was leaving that behind, as well as unpaid bills, which meant he had little chance of ever showing his face in Shanghai again. That was proof of how much he loved her.
Silence followed. I was nervous she would give in to his lies. “Once we’re on the boat,” she said at last, “I’ll show my gratitude. And if you have duped me, you will know that my revenge has no limits.”
The next morning, I argued with her over the wretched plan. Mother was already dressed in her chosen travel costume: a cornflower-blue skirt and long jacket. Her hat, shoes, and gloves were cream-colored kid leather. She looked as if she were going to the races. I was supposed to wear a ridiculous sailor blouse and skirt, which Fairweather had sent over. He said it would make me look like a patriotic American girl, a guise that was necessary to douse all doubt that I was anything less than snowy white. I was certain he wanted me to wear the cheap dress to humiliate me.
“I don’t trust him,” I said, as Golden Dove helped me into the dress. I laid out my argument. Did anyone go to the consulate to verify that what he had said was true? Maybe there was a birth certificate. And who was this influential man he claims to know? The only reason he was doing this was for money. How could she be sure he would not abscond with the money?
“Do you really think I haven’t asked all those questions and five times again more?” Sh
e acted annoyed. But I saw her eyes dart about, looking for danger in dark corners. She was frightened. She had doubts. “I’ve gone over it,” she continued, speaking quickly, “looking for every possible rat hole he can jump into.” She rambled about her suspicions. Cracked Egg had sent people out to learn if the tickets were genuine. They were indeed reserved, paid by someone expecting to get reimbursed at twice the cost, not thrice, as Fairweather had said. That was his usual greed, and she could overlook that as long as she received the tickets. She confirmed that the passports were indeed required. And Golden Dove had already gone to the consulate to see if it was true that my birth certificate could not be found. Unfortunately, they would not give such information to anyone but the child’s American parents.
“Why would Fairweather go to the trouble of doing all this?” my mother said, and a moment later, she answered herself: “Pulling strings is his favorite game, as is looping them, one through the other. What do you think, Golden Dove? Should I trust him?”
“Never with love,” she said. “But if he comes here with the tickets, that’s a sign he’s capable of performing what he says. If he does not bring the tickets, Cracked Egg will bring back the money and a slice of his nose.”
“Why do we have to leave right away?” I cried. “If we wait, we won’t need his help. All this is for Teddy. For Teddy, I have to pretend Fairweather is my father. For Teddy, I have to give up Carlotta and suffer heartbreak.”
“Violet, don’t become hysterical. This is for all of us.” She was fiddling with her gloves. She was nervous, too. “If we cannot get your documents, the answer is absolute: We will not go until we obtain them.” A button popped off one of her gloves. She removed the gloves and tossed them onto her desk.
“But why do we have to hurry now? Teddy will still be in San Francisco.”
She had her back to me. “Shanghai is changing. There may not be a place for us here anymore. In San Francisco, we will start afresh.”
I prayed Fairweather would not come. Let him abscond with the money and prove his stripes. But he showed up promptly at nine, when Golden Dove and I were in Mother’s office. He sat down and handed my mother an envelope.
She frowned. “This is a ticket for only one cabin and one berth.”
“Lulu darling, how can you still not trust me? If you had both tickets, how would my daughter, Violet, and I board later?” He pulled the other tickets from his breast pocket and held them up. “You need only knock on my cabin door to verify your daughter and humble servant are there.” He stood and put on his hat. “Violet and I better make haste to the consulate or this whole effort will be for naught.”
Everything was happening too quickly. I stared hard at my mother. No, don’t let him take me, I wanted to beg. She gave me a look of resignation. My heart beat so fast I was dizzy. I scooped up Carlotta, who had been sleeping under the writing table, and I began to sob, rubbing tears into her coat. A manservant whisked away my valise.
“No tears for me?” Golden Dove said. I had never even considered she was not coming with us. Of course she was not. She and my mother were like sisters. She was like an aunt to me. I went to her and threw my arms around her, thanking her for her care. I could not comprehend I would not see her after today, not for a while, and maybe forever.
“Will you come to San Francisco soon?” I asked tearfully.
“I have no desire to go there. So you’ll have to return to Shanghai to see me.”
Golden Dove and my mother walked down the stairs with me. I clutched Carlotta so hard she squirmed. At the gate, I saw that the courtesans and their attendants had already gathered for my farewell. I thanked Cracked Egg for keeping me safe. He smiled, but his eyes were sad. Little Ocean, who loved Carlotta, stood by. I pressed my face into Carlotta’s fur: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I promised I would always love her and that I would return for her. But I knew I would probably never see her again. Little Ocean held out her arms, and Carlotta rolled into them. She showed no distress in my leaving and this hurt my heart. But as my mother and I walked through the gate, I heard Carlotta cry out. I turned around and she was twisting her body, trying to reach me. My mother put her arm around my waist and firmly led me forward. The gate opened and a chorus of beauties shouted, “Come back!” “Don’t forget us!” “Don’t get too fat!” “Bring me back a lucky star!”
“It won’t take long,” my mother assured me. I saw a small knot of worry in her forehead. She stroked my face. “I’ve asked Cracked Egg to wait at the consulate and to send a message to me once you have your passport. I won’t board until I have that message. You and Fairweather will go directly to the boat, and we’ll look for each other at the back of the boat and stand together as the ship gets under way.”
“Mother …,” I protested.
“I won’t leave until you are beside me,” she said firmly. “I promise.” She kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry.”
Fairweather led me to the carriage. I turned back and saw my mother waving. I saw the knot on her brow.
“Five o’clock, at the back of the boat!” she called out. Above her fading words, I heard Carlotta howl.
CHAPTER 3
THE HALL OF TRANQUILITY
Shanghai
1912
Violet—Vivi—Zizi
When I stepped down from the carriage, I saw the gate of a large house and a plaque with Chinese characters spelling “Hall of Tranquility.” I looked up and down the street for a building with the American flag.
“This is not the right place,” I said to Fairweather.
He returned a look of surprise and asked the driver if it was indeed the correct address, and the driver affirmed that it was. Fairweather called for assistance from those by the gate. Two smiling women came forward. One of them said to me, “It’s too cold for you to stand outside, little sister. Come in quickly and you’ll soon be warm.” Before I could think, they grasped me at the elbows, and pushed me forward. I balked and explained we were going to the consulate instead, but they did not let go. When I turned to tell Fairweather to take me away from there, I saw only shimmering dust floating through the sun’s glare. The carriage was moving at a brisk pace down the road. Bastard! I had been right all along. It was a trick. Before I could think what to do, the two women locked their arms in mine and moved me forward more forcefully. I struggled and shouted, and to everyone I saw—the people on the road, the gatekeeper, the menservants, the maids—I warned that if they did not obey me, my mother would later have them jailed for kidnapping. They gave me blank-faced stares. Why didn’t they obey? How dare they treat a foreigner this way!
In the main hall, I saw red banners hung on the walls. “Welcome Little Sister Mimi.” The characters for mimi were the same ones used in my mother’s name for “hidden.” I ran to one of the banners and pulled it down. My heart was racing and panic choked my throat. “I’m a foreigner,” I squawked in Chinese. “You are not allowed to do this to me …” The courtesans and little maids stared back.
“How peculiar that she speaks Chinese,” a maid whispered.
“Damn you all!” I shouted in English. My mind was racing and all in a jumble, but my limbs were sluggish. What was happening? I must tell Mother where I am. I needed a carriage. I should notify the police as soon as possible. I said to a manservant, “I will give five dollars if you carry me to Hidden Jade Path.” A moment later, I realized I had no money. I became more confused by my helplessness. I guessed they would keep me here until five o’clock, when the boat would have sailed away.
A maid whispered to another that she thought a virgin courtesan from a first-class house would have worn nicer clothes than a dirty Yankee costume.
“I’m not a virgin courtesan!” I said.
A squat woman of around fifty waddled toward me, and by the watchful expressions on everyone’s faces, I knew she was the madam. She had a broad face and an unhealthy pallor. Her eyes were as black as a crow’s, and the hair at her temples had been twisted into tight stra
nds that pulled back her skin and elongated her eyes into catlike ovals. From her lipless mouth, she said, “Welcome to the Hall of Tranquility!” I sneered at how proudly she said the name. Tranquility! My mother said that only second-class houses used good-sounding names like that to convey false expectations. Where was the tranquility? Everyone looked scared. The Western furniture was shiny and cheap. The curtains were too short. All the decorations were imitations of what they could never be. There was no mistaking it: The Hall of Tranquility was nothing more than a brothel with a sinking reputation.
“My mother is a very important American,” I said to the madam. “If you do not let me go this instant, she will have you convicted in an American court of law and your house will be closed forever.”
“Yes, we know all about your mother. Lulu Mimi. Such an important woman.”
The madam beckoned the six courtesans to come meet me. They were dressed in bright pink and green colors, as if it were still Spring Festival. Four of them looked to be seventeen or eighteen, and the other two were much older, at least twenty-five. A maid, no more than ten, brought steaming towels and a bowl of rose water. I knocked them away and the porcelain smashed onto the tile with the bright sound of a thousand tiny bells. While picking up the slivers, the frightened maid apologized to the madam, and the old woman said nothing that would assure her that the damage was not her fault. An older maid gave me a bowl of osmanthus tea. Although I was thirsty, I took the bowl and threw it at the banners with my name. Black tears ran down from the smeared characters.
The madam gave me an indulgent smile. “Ayo! Such a temper.”
She motioned to the courtesans, and, one by one, they and their attendants politely thanked me for coming and adding prestige to the house. They did not appear genuinely welcoming. When the madam took my elbow to guide me toward a table, I yanked back my arm. “Don’t touch me.”
“Shh-shh,” the madam soothed. “Soon you will be more at ease here. Call me Mother and I’ll treat you just like a daughter.”
