Sex and Taipei City

by Yu-Han Chao

  Mrs. Gu, lonely in a foreign land and growing eccentric in her middle age, clung desperately to her daughter. She blamed Lily’s interest in women on her husband’s absence, reminding him every time he visited that it was because of him they would never have grandchildren.

  “There are worse things than having a lesbian for a daughter,” he said.

  “Like what? Staying in Taiwan and being kidnapped by gangsters? Are those our only options?” Mrs. Gu spent a great deal of her free time thinking about what things would have been like had they stayed in Taipei. Often she spoke of the food she missed from the night market: the tasty dumplings, grilled squid, fried calamari, noodle soup.

  “Besides, women can have babies however they want. Lily still might make grandparents out of us, if that’s what she wants,” Mr. Gu said.

  “Easy for you to say. What do you happen to know about being a woman and raising a child all by yourself, without a father figure?”

  For all of Mrs. Gu’s complaining, she had little intention of returning to Taiwan, even when Lily told her she was moving to Taipei, at least temporarily, to teach music. Lily’s Aunt Kitty, a music teacher, just married a man from Hong Kong, and had arranged for Lily to “inherit” her violin students in Taipei. The students didn’t have to worry about finding a new teacher, and Lily got a job fresh out of the Conservatory, where she’d received barely passing grades, botched her final recital by going completely out-of-tune in one passage and forgetting the score in another. She knew they’d let her graduate out of pity because they thought she was an underachieving immigrant who didn’t speak English. Just as well. She had been distracted, and her heart had never been in her music. Her life consisted of alternating conflicts: constant drama with her girlfriend and arguments at home.

  “You are no daughter of mine,” were Mrs. Gu’s exact words the night she found out about Lily and Nina. She pushed Lily out into the snow and locked the door. Lily spent the night sobbing on Nina’s futon. Days swelled into weeks, and with them some of the initial shock and pain faded. Lily and her mother learned to deal with each other, but just barely.

  In the airport, the immigration officer waved Lily through the gate after a quick glance at her Taiwanese passport. The lines for “visitors” were long and slow-moving, but Lily had learned to use her Taiwanese passport when she visited and her Canadian one when she reentered Canada.

  After claiming her luggage, Lily spotted her aunt in the crowd. Kitty, perfect skin, full figure, permed hair dyed reddish-brown, gushed over Lily and stroked Lily’s mid-parted, long hair, the classic Asian-Canadian do.

  “You’re even taller than when I last saw you! You must be at least 168 centimeters, or more than 170? Just like a model! Models are very popular here in Taiwan now. But you are too thin. You should eat some more. What are they feeding you in Canada? Don’t you think she’s too thin, dear?” Kitty turned to her husband.

  Instead of answering, Kitty’s balding, bespectacled husband reached into his right pocket and produced a heavy, Bluebeard-worthy ring of keys. “You can wait over by the front entrance. I’ll go get the car.”

  He shuffled away, keys jangling.

  “Never mind him,” Kitty said, watching her husband depart. “Low EQ, absolutely no social skills. But a nice man, really. Very generous. His family is from old Guomingtang money.”

  “I can’t believe you’re moving all the way to Hong Kong. What if you don’t like it there?”

  “What’s not to like? Fantastic places to shop, good food, there’s even horse racing and exclusive clubs. I’ve been there five times already and loved every moment of it.”

  Kitty stroked her classic Louis Vuitton shoulder bag and smiled. Lily wondered if it was fake, like every other Louis Vuitton bag carried in the streets of Taipei.

  “Well, I hope you are happy with him,” Lily said.

  “I’m all set for life. Even if we get divorced, I’ll get half his stuff. A real success story, huh?” Kitty seemed more pleased with herself than sarcastic.

  Back at Lily’s new one-bedroom apartment, which already had in it an old upright piano, Kitty took out a spiral-bound planner and opened it to a section filled with names and phone numbers.

  “I have talked to these four kids, the ones whose names are highlighted, and they will be your new students. I told them you charge one thousand per hour, which isn’t that much, but I thought it was appropriate since you’re starting out. Is that alright?”

  Lily nodded. She had no idea she was worth one thousand NT an hour, which was about 42 CAD, 35 USD.

  “I already told them to call you to confirm their class schedules with you. This girl, Paoi Wu, is in junior high school. She’s kind of slow and tone-deaf but she tries. These two are brother and sister. And this one, Guo Sun, is your age or maybe a year older. I told him not to fall in love with you, hee hee.”

  Thankfully, Kitty’s cell phone rang so that Lily did not have to respond.

  “Yes, I know the flight leaves at three! I’ll be right down, hold your horses.”

  Kitty reached out to hug Lily, who reciprocated with a four-finger pat on her aunt’s back, not knowing where to put her hands. Against her own slim torso, Kitty’s body was like a lumpy down pillow. Lily wondered if she would ever find anyone like Nina here in Taipei. Kitty picked up her handbag and put on a pair of burgundy sunglasses which made her look like a gigantic fly.

  “Don’t have too much fun all by yourself in Taipei! Give me a call if you need help with something.”

  It took less than a week for Lily to settle in. She called her students and arranged class times for all of them.

  The doors on a cuckoo clock in the living room clicked open as Lily held up the extra violin left behind for her by Kitty. Lily waited for the mechanical cuckoo bird to finish chirping twice before demonstrating the first few bars of a chaconne for Paoi. She didn’t use her own violin when she taught because she found the slightly whiny tone of the instrument depressing. Paoi’s mouth gaped open, as was her habit, while she observed her teacher’s exaggerated vibrato.

  “You try it now.” Lily indicated the beginning of the solo on the music score with her bow and stood back, giving Paoi sufficient space. Once or twice Lily had been poked in the chin or chest by a student and had learned her lesson about keeping a safe distance.

  Paoi struggled to find the right fingering and Lily occasionally played a note at the right pitch to give her a clue. Paoi was skinny—the kind of skinny that made bras unnecessary and garments hang loosely. Lily herself was not wearing a bra, either. She didn’t like them. When she was in high school, her mother had bought her half a dozen bras off the clearance rack at the mall with absolutely no idea of her size. At some point Nina had taken all of these bras and thrown them into the big black trash can outside, a gesture that both frightened and moved Lily.

  “You have lovely tits. Don’t hide them,” Nina said.

  Covering one’s breasts in Canada was hardly a concern, anyway, since everyone was so bundled up most of the time, layer upon layer.

  Lily knew that the outline of her small breasts and perky nipples were apparent under almost every non-winter garment she owned, but she decided that it was no big deal, even though hers were possibly the only nipples visible on the streets of Taipei. Correction: hers were the only breasts not supported or covered by a bra that were not the sagging, wrinkled dugs of an obasan aged over sixty. Even her mother would have worn a bra, and would probably make her wear one too, had she been here.

  When Paoi’s hour was up, Lily sent her out to photocopy some scores at the 7-11 nearby and waited for the next student, Anya. Cute, round-faced Anya had dimpled hands that could move almost as fast as Lily’s, but thankfully with less accuracy. This was the only student Lily had to practice for, whose pieces she had to rehearse before she demonstrated them for her in class. Anya’s more difficult piece at this point was Preludium and Allegro, which Lily had played in fourth-grade but messed up horribly at the mid-semeste
r music exams. Her violin teacher was embarrassed and furious at how Lily ruined an entire staccato passage by losing control of her bow, which made whistling and bumping noises while touching only fifty percent of the correct strings for a full minute. Despite the hopelessness of her right hand, her left hand kept pressing the notes on the fingerboard, to little effect. Mrs. Gu later told her that everyone said the judges at the exam were mouthing to one another, Whose student is this? and, Maybe we should stop her.

  Images of her fourth-grade exam passed through Lily’s head as she and Anya played. Just like ten-year-old Lily, Anya couldn’t do the Allegro. Lily showed her how to bounce the bow and control it with a thumb and forefinger, maintaining the bow’s balance with her pinky. Finally, Anya managed a few successful staccatos and Lily praised her profusely, marking out the entire section as next week’s homework, a great compliment. It was an insult when the teacher only marked out a few bars for next week, one Lily had often received and resented, even when she knew she deserved it because she rarely practiced at home.

  While Anya put on her shoes at the front door, Anya’s mother stared blatantly at Lily’s breasts, their outline visi ble through her thin T-shirt. The woman’s glance said it all: wear a bra—you’re indecent. Then she told her son, who was supposed to be Lily’s four o’clock, to wait outside.

  “I meant to tell your aunt this, but my son will be very busy at school preparing for the entrance exam for college, so I think we’ll take a break from lessons until the exams are over. I’m sure you understand, Miss Gu.” Her icy voice seemed mismatched with her intensely crimson lipstick. Some of the lipstick was on her teeth.

  “Why, of course,” Lily said, forcing herself to look at the woman’s eyes instead of her teeth.

  The boy turned back to glance at Lily and was given a warning shove by his mother.

  Lily wondered if it was just her imagination that Anya’s mom had been offended by her braless breasts. Surely one doesn’t lose music students over this kind of thing. She knew Taiwanese were weird about nipples, but she didn’t have to be like them, acting all ashamed of the female body.

  On her way to and from the supermarket, in the streets, Lily started searching for white women, hoping to see one without a bra on, to prove she wasn’t alone and wasn’t crazy. She saw a few foreign tourists, but their ample breasts were all well-contained and covered, as were their nipples.

  A month and a half later, only Paoi and the adult male student remained on Lily’s schedule. Anya, soon after her brother, was crossed out from Kitty’s old schedule, but Paoi and Guo Sun came loyally, weekly, to Lily’s apartment, scratching out on squeaky violins their tone-deaf tunes in the living room. Fortunately for the neighbors, this room had been soundproofed by the previous tenant, an aspiring singer who practiced karaoke every night. White boards covered with tiny holes like tunnels made by worms surrounding the room sucked in most of the awful attempts at music within.

  Paoi’s mother had been discreetly increasing the amount of money she gave Lily, an undiscussed but much appreciated raise of a hundred NT every month or so. By now, when Paoi handed Lily an envelope after class, it contained twelve hundred NT. Guo Sun, who earned his own tuition, didn’t give Lily extra money, and sometimes forgot the tuition, but he always tried the best he could as a boring Taiwanese engineer to make conversation with her.

  Occasionally they went out after class to have sweet dumplings from a food stall or a cup of boba tea. Guo Sun never let Lily see the bill, quoting Confucius, “If anything is needed by the teacher, the student will naturally be of service.” Lily let him pay since she figured he owed her tuition anyway.

  Today Paoi was supposed to come at 1:30 p.m., but she failed to show up. Around four o’clock, Lily picked up the phone and spoke to Mrs. Wu, Paoi’s mother, who was speaking in an apologetic tone. Paoi was falling behind academically, she said, and she had no choice but to have her take a break from violin lessons for now.

  “I understand,” Lily said.

  “Thank you so much for teaching my daughter, Teacher Gu.” Mrs. Gu sounded guilty and hung up right away after a few polite goodbyes.

  Lily knew Paoi and Anya’s moms were good friends. Anya’s mom must have persuaded Paoi’s mother not to let her daughter take lessons from a braless, indecent Taiwanese-Canadian woman—Lily was sure of it. Taiwan was so screwed up. It was too bad. Lily didn’t mind Paoi as a student, and she actually liked Paoi’s mom. She admired her elegant clothes and rose-scented perfume. Her modest rack was no doubt covered in a thick designer bra with extra molding for protection and supported with underwire.

  This left Lily with just one student, the tone-deaf engineer who bought her sweet dumplings after class. So much for making her own living; her father would still have to wire her money for rent. But at least this time it would be from one Taipei bank to another instead of all the way from Taipei to Canada, with all the banks in between helping themselves to foreign exchange and transaction fees.

  To clear her head, Lily took a walk around her neighborhood and found herself with a craving for a savory rice triangle wrapped in nori. Luckily there was a 7-11 every few blocks, so she would likely find her favorite type of rice triangle, wasabi salmon. As she walked along the betel-nut-juice-stained sidewalk with a new sense of purpose, she noticed a stranger trying to keep up with her, several paces away from her on the sidewalk. Instinctively, she quickened her pace.

  The man addressed her, “Miss, miss!”

  Lily stopped. Maybe she had dropped something and he was a good Samaritan. She turned around to see a short man whose head only reached her ear.

  “Miss, may I beg you to wear a bra, please?”

  Lily stared at the little man, whose silver-rimmed glasses framed his beady eyes. A striped shirt stretched over his paunch, and a worn belt held up his cheap suit pants.

  “Please wear a . . . bra under your shirt. It’s really obvious.” He was looking into her face, clearly trying as hard as he could to look away from her breasts, which were closer to him.

  Lily whipped her head back around and marched away, fuming. Who did this stupid shrimp think he was, acting like she was indecent? She wanted to swear a hundred curses at him, but not knowing what else to do, she fled. She felt like a weakling, a coward. What would Nina have said in such a situation? She would have known what to do. Forget talk—Nina would have beaten the little man up.

  Eight o’clock Sunday evening, Guo Sun arrived five minutes early for his lesson. Lily gave him two new three-octave scales and arpeggios to fumble through as warm up. As he played she tried not to think about the horrible little man who told her to wear a bra, but every bad note the engineer hit reminded her of those perverted, beady eyes and the man’s condescending tone.

  “Do you mind terribly if we skip class today? We could go out for some iced tea.” Lily interrupted Guo Sun in the middle of an arpeggio.

  “Sure, the student is always at the teacher’s service.”

  In under five minutes, he gathered his music books, loosened his bow hair and stuffed everything into his violin case.

  At the tea house, Lily sipped black tea while Guo Sun stirred his frothy pearl milk green tea, sucking tapioca balls at an impressive speed through a thick straw.

  “Is something the matter?” Guo Sun asked.

  “I ran into this pervert yesterday.” Lily stirred the ice in furious circles in her tea.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s what a big city is like, I guess. My cousin also has had such experiences. She calls the perverts weird uncles. My cousin is quite cute. Are you okay? Did the pervert say something to you?”

  “He followed me for a while and came up to me and told me to wear . . . a bra.”

  The corners of Guo Sun’s lips curled upwards slightly. He seemed to be suppressing a smile. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, Teacher Gu, but yeah, it might help if you did wear one.”

  “Excuse me?” Lily stabbed her straw into the ice and glared at Guo Sun,
almost as angry at him as she was at the little man in the street.

  “Please don’t be offended. I mean, you know what Taiwanese are like. Some men can be sleazy, and the women will talk, too. You can’t let them see too much of your body. People see, and people talk.”

  Lily couldn’t believe her ears. “I think I need to go home now.”

  “Please don’t go. Are you angry?”

  Guo Sun reached out and touched her right hand, which she drew back.

  “You know, Lily, I mean, Teacher Gu, you are one of the most talented girls I know. I want to tell you that. I . . . rather like you. I don’t care about the bra thing. Not one bit. You look great. Other people are idiots.”

  Lily stood up and headed to the door. She didn’t feel like explaining anything to Guo Sun: that he didn’t have the right to discuss her body or her bra, that she didn’t like him like that, and never would. Lily left him in the tea house without looking back. He was too polite and also too stunned to chase after her.

  He had been her last violin student.

  And then there were none.

  Had she lost each and every one of her students because she refused to wear a bra, because even perverted, dumpling-shaped, strange men in the streets of Taipei were offended by the contour of her nipples? Lily felt more confused than ever, and insulted. Maybe she was wrong. Despite Nina’s angry voice protesting in her mind, Lily wondered whether it was time to buy one of those thickly-padded, lacy Taiwanese bras.

  Betel Nut Beauty

  TAKE THE ARECA nut, marinated in milk and dried in the sun, and cut it open. Stuff a ball of fibers made from flowers from a betel plant between the cheeks of the open nut. Wrap it in a betel leaf folded in half, stem removed, smeared with some red-brownish goop that looks like dirty blood. Then you have a betel nut, Taiwanese-style. It looks exactly like a vagina, a round, crisp, green one with a humongous rust-colored, hooded clitoris.