Searching for Sylvie Lee

by Jean Kwok

  I am breathing so shallowly, I can barely say the words. “Because your son killed Sylvie.”

  Helena gasps; her face blotches. Ma jerks as if I’ve dealt her a physical blow and Pa’s eyes bulge like those of the fish he kills. Lukas lurches toward me. As I wince away from him, he grabs the back of a chair and uses it to brace himself. He hangs his head so his hair curtains his face.

  The stunned silence is broken by a long peal of laughter. Willem says, “A very dramatic joke, Amy.”

  I open my jacket and reveal the velvet bag. The mocking smile disappears from Willem’s face. From the stricken look in Ma’s eyes, I know she recognizes it. I drop to my knees in front of the low opium table and pour out the contents. At first, a small plastic bag emerges and I’m afraid that I was mistaken. But then pouches of silk envelopes tied together with ribbons appear. I open one to reveal a gold necklace formed of apple-green jade droplets, each teardrop setting wrought in the shape of a lotus flower and studded with diamonds. Both Helena and Ma stare with longing on their faces, whether for the jewelry or Grandma’s love, I cannot say.

  I stare at all of them. “I found this hidden in Lukas’s room.”

  “What the hell were you doing in my apartment?” he bellows. He has his arms wrapped around himself, his teeth bared like a feral animal’s.

  “That does not prove anything.” Helena dares to come over and start stuffing the jewelry back into the bag, as if she plans to return it to Lukas. She doesn’t meet our eyes. She speaks so rapidly I can barely understand her. “He has a right. Grandma raised him. Grandma must have given it to him. If Sylvie had the jewelry, she stole it.”

  “Stop!” I am screaming as I grab her by the wrist. She freezes and her entire body goes rigid. “How dare you? Sylvie’s dead!” I cry out, keening. I dump out all of the contents again. No more hiding. “Why? What did she die for if he didn’t kill her? He has a photo of her at the exact spot where her body was found. They had a secret relationship. Sylvie was in love with him.” I hear Ma’s sharp intake of breath. I pull out the scrap of paper from my pocket. “Look at this. She wrote ‘Sylvie Tan,’ like a schoolgirl in love. Grandma meant the jewelry for Sylvie. He seduced Sylvie, took the gold from her, and then got rid of her and made it look like she ran away with it.”

  Everyone except for Lukas crowds around to read the little scrap with Sylvie’s precise handwriting on it. Even when besotted, she had been clear and exact.

  No one speaks. They are like wax figures in a horror show, transfixed and aghast. Lukas works his jaw but he too is unable to speak.

  I turn to him. “You played the lover and then you murdered her.” My voice is shaking with rage now. I want to tear him apart.

  He says in a hoarse voice, “You are right. I did kill her.” He rubs his eyes with his clenched fists. His face is haggard. “I regret her death more than I could ever say.” He convulses with ragged, tearing sobs. He moans, “Sylvie . . .”

  Helena brings the back of her hand to her trembling lips. Then she steps to her son and wraps her arms around him like she would a small child.

  I am shuddering so hard I can barely stand, but I am resolute. “No more silence. These secrets have taken Sylvie from us.”

  Willem has staggered backward, ashen, his eyes feverish and overbright. His hand is clasped over his mouth as if to stop himself from confessing. He stares, not at me, but at my mother.

  To my great surprise, it is Ma who speaks. She shakes her head in denial, her shoulders curled, her spine bent as if to protect herself. Her voice is choked with emotion but strong. “You are right that a secret killed my daughter. But the secret is not what you think.”

  Chapter 29

  Ma

  Monday, May 16

  I need to speak Chinese now so I can express myself truly. Helena, would you please translate for Amy? I must chop nails and sever iron to get to the heart of the matter.

  This was my fault. I have wronged all of you in this room. But heaven’s net is wide and none can escape its mesh. I too am punished.

  Pa, I put the green hat of cuckoldry upon your head, although you did not deserve it. When I married you, I was already pregnant with another man’s child. I did not know for certain at the time but there was no excuse. I can only offer an explanation.

  I grew up knowing I would not be allowed to choose whom I should marry. Our families were friends and we were promised to each other from when we were little. I was betrothed to Pa but I was in love with Willem. I know how it is to desire that which you do not have.

  I did not dare to speak until it was too late. By then, you had come back, Helena, with your sophisticated foreign ways, the open beckoning road behind your every move. You could offer Willem freedom, wealth, and your whole heart. I loved you too, Pa, and that was why I was so conflicted with my affections divided.

  But then, Helena and Willem married. They were to leave together and Willem and I had cast longing glances at each other for years. If one often walks by the riverside, one’s shoes will eventually get wet. Willem and I took our last chance to be together. Our heart blood rose in a tidal wave. We destroyed our cauldrons and sank our boats. We were leaving for separate countries, different lives, and would never see each other again, so we thought.

  Pa and I married almost immediately afterward and then we too left China. The two of you moved to Holland, and we headed for the Beautiful Country. I did not expect to get the big stomach.

  Soon after that, Snow Jasmine was born. Pa, I know that after her birth, you slowly grew to suspect. I thought at first she could belong to either of you and so I watched her like a hawk. That was barren ground for a mother’s love. I scrutinized her every moment, wondering if she would betray my sin by a gesture, a mark, a word. But soon, I understood who her father was.

  And yes, Helena, when the chance came to send her to you as a baby, I did it for many reasons. We could barely afford to keep her. She cried in the hot New York summers. I was afraid for her safety and mine. I knew that you, Helena, could offer her and my mother a better home than I could. But I also did it so her biological father could know his daughter.

  The truth is, when I flew to Holland with Snow Jasmine, I did not know if I came to leave my baby or to take the treasure and my girl back home with me. I was jealous of you, Helena, with your large house, fine husband, and my own mother to care for your child, and now, I would give you my daughter too? The jewelry had belonged to me from the moment I married Pa. That was why Grandma could not give it to anyone else. As was tradition, it was her wedding present to me, but I felt too guilty to accept it because of what I had done. Pa never knew about it. It was for me to keep for myself, something a mother could pass on to her daughter, something a woman could use to save herself in times of dire need. I asked Grandma to take care of it for me.

  When I came to leave Snow Jasmine here, I ate bitterness. It was common for our children to be raised by their grandmothers. Many of our friends in the Beautiful Country had sent their babies to live with their relatives in the Central Kingdom so their kids could learn the old ways and language. But Grandma could see how it made me cough up blood to think of leaving my child behind. She said to me, “My daughter, you have brought with you the extreme danger of a mountain of blades and a sea of fire. We must dispel the clouds and see the sun again. Sell the jewelry. Keep your child and leave this place, and this man.”

  I had the gold in my luggage, ready to tell you, Helena, that I had changed my mind. I felt new courage and hope. It must have shown in my demeanor, and Willem, who was always watching me, guessed the truth. I was staying here in your house in a state of mutual hostility, both of us with swords drawn and bows bent, and you never let him or me out of your sight. But one day you were both working at the restaurant and Willem told you there was an emergency and that he had to consult with your accountant. He circled home and spoke to me instead. He had seen Snow Jasmine’s birthmark. He knew she was his. He begged me to leave his daughter with him, if o
nly for a year or two.

  I could not deny him. The burden of shame and obligation was too great. I staked all on one throw. My Ma knew then that I would not accept the treasure until she was dead and that Snow Jasmine would have to be the one to put it into my hands. But a fire at the city gates is also a disaster to the fish in the pond, and that decision claimed many innocent victims, the worst of all my Snow Jasmine, who had always been as lovely and pure as a crane in a flock of chickens.

  Make no mistake, I am the true villain of this story.

  Chapter 30

  Sylvie

  Friday, April 29

  Then, finally, he was kissing me again. I was afloat with love and joy. His hands tugged gently on my hair to tilt my head back, and I felt his rough stubble at the sensitive skin of my throat. A flood of heat washed over me. Dizzy with desire, I braced one hand against the wall for balance. My fingers struck the ridge of something, and then I was blinded by white.

  “Oh, I am so sorry, I hit the light switch by accident!” I gasped and raised a hand to my flushed cheek. “Have I ruined your work?”

  He gave me a long, slow smile, blinking in the sudden brightness. He bent down and whispered, “Do not worry. I had already finished.” Then he swept my hair back with his thumb and planted a deliberate kiss behind my ear. I shivered, closing my eyes. “We should move this upstairs—” He broke off.

  “What is wrong?” I peeked at him through my lashes.

  He was staring at my ear, his eyes wide. “How long have you had that mark?”

  Was I deformed? Did he not want me anymore? I self-consciously rubbed the birthmark. “Since I was born. Why?”

  His mouth was slack. He lifted both hands from my body and held them suspended in the air. “Because my father has the same one.”

  “What?” I furrowed my brows. I could not understand it. What was the problem, we were relatives, right? Oh wait, Helena was my cousin, not Willem. Willem had married into her family. How could I be related to Willem? Ridiculous. “It must be a coincidence.”

  Lukas held his body slanted away from mine. He shuffled backward on his feet. “It explains everything, do you not see? Why everyone always thinks you and Pa look alike, how brilliant you both are. Why he always loved you so much.”

  I rubbed a hand across my face. I felt stupid. Normally I was the clever one, figuring out the killer in movies long before everyone else. It was like my brain had been packed in cotton and I could not get the gears to turn.

  At my silence, he placed his fist against his mouth as if he could not bear to say the words. “That is why my mother always hated you.” His voice broke. “Because you are his child.”

  Willem’s daughter? The air was knocked from my lungs. Was I Helena’s daughter, then? Why would she hate me? But I had been born in the United States. I had a birth certificate. Born to Ma. Wait. No. Ma and Willem. It could not be. Lukas was not my distant cousin. He was my half brother.

  A mangled cry filled the room, like some pitiful animal was being slaughtered. It was coming from my throat. Everything was blurry. “No!” I pounded my fists against his chest as he held my wrists in his hands.

  I fought against him until I collapsed, sobbing, against his chest. He held me to him for a long time until I could breathe again.

  Now he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss against my knuckles. “This does not change anything.”

  I pulled it away and tucked it behind my back. I wiped my face, and moved aside so I could look at him. “How can it not?”

  A flush stained his cheeks and he could not meet my eyes. “No one knows. We do not have to tell anyone.” His voice seemed to come from across a great distance. “My mother may suspect but she will never say anything, and my pa and your ma have kept it a secret all these years.” He spoke rapidly, trying to convince himself.

  I reached out to touch his silky hair. “Lukas. You are the one good thing in my life. My only hope. I will not drag you down with me.”

  He cradled my face between his palms. “What do you mean?”

  “You finally learned to speak up. I will not bury you in secrets again.”

  “Sylvie.” His lips parted and he bent down. I turned so his kiss landed on my cheek.

  “Look, this is such a mess.” I forced my voice to sound rational, though it still trembled. I gave him a wan smile. I had to protect him from me. “Neither of us can think clearly right now. Shall we go to sleep and talk in the morning?”

  “Do you know it for sure?” He peered at me intently, still so concerned for me, never thinking of himself. He took me by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  I took a deep breath and shook my hair, straightened my spine. “Yes. Do not worry, I am fine. I am tired and overwhelmed, that is all. I only need some time alone to think and rest. Can you please give that to me?”

  He nodded. “Of course, I will give you anything you want, Sylvie.”

  “We will talk later, I promise,” I lied. I took a step back as his hands reluctantly released their grip.

  I strode toward the door but could not resist one last peek at him. He was so handsome and vulnerable standing there beneath the stark lighting, staring after me with his heart in his eyes.

  He swallowed, as if he could barely form the words, and asked, painfully, “Please just tell me one thing. Do you love me?”

  At that, I broke and rushed back into his arms. I held him tight. “Forever.”

  My lifeline had been cut. From the moment I understood, I knew what I had to do—the long, slow grind of the past few months, Jim, my work, Grandma, and now Lukas. It was enough. Something instinctive and biological took over. He had been my last hope and a part of me had decided long ago that if I lost this final gamble, the game was over.

  I scribbled a note for Amy, Ma, and Pa. I was being selfish yet again. I hesitated a moment before signing it, then decided to use my real name. I slid the note and the gifts I had bought for them in Venice into the velvet bag that held Grandma’s jewelry.

  I waited until it was late and Lukas had turned out his lights—and told myself, Better a clear break than an eternal desire for someone you could never have, someone you never should have desired in the first place. I could not bear to live wanting and needing him, to watch as he moved on, married someone else. Not all of us were like Amy, made for warmth, love, happiness.

  When everything was quiet, I crept across the lawn. The night was bitter and still, the waning moon waiting for the darkness to overwhelm it completely. I opened his door, held the jewelry bag against my cheek for a moment, and then removed my cello and hid the treasure inside the empty case. I wished I could tiptoe upstairs and kiss him one last time.

  They had always said I was destined to die by water.

  I placed everything that belonged to me inside the small rental car and drove away as quietly as I could. I looked in the rearview mirror as Lukas’s apartment disappeared in the distance. Death did not recognize sweet children. We all had to go, whether we had been good or not. The lies that had sustained me: if I did everything right, I could earn love; if I was perfect enough, I would cheat death. My painful truth: love would always leave me; I did not deserve to be loved. Even a donkey did not stumble over the same stone twice.

  All of my designer things, buying into the myth that if you owned the right items, you would belong. That respect and friendship and the right skin color could be purchased. If you were born a dime, you would never become a quarter. When I met Jim, it was like I had finally attained the promised land. I had made it to the foreign shore I had spent so long attempting to reach and been allowed inside, only to find it barren.

  This life of mine, given away as a baby. That was the beginning. And now, I was at the end.

  I parked in the spot where Lukas and I had picnicked on the banks of the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal. There were a few scattered farmhouses in the distance and all of their windows were dark. I finally understood everything: Helena, Willem, Ma, Pa.
How foolish, my hope for Ma and Pa to truly love me. Willem, my father, who took from me the man I desired most.

  I was tired of wanting and choosing. Who we truly were and our rational selves were two different entities. The logical part of me knew I did not have to do this—but answers to questions of the heart were inaudible and incomprehensible. We could only feel them, like currents swaying us from beneath the surface, supporting us at their whim, until they decided to grab hold and pull us under.

  I took the rosebud from between the pages of the book in my handbag. I pressed it to my lips and inhaled its faded scent. With Lukas, I had felt like I was finally home. The other men who had cared about me only loved the image I projected for them, like a floating helium balloon bound to my wrist by the most tenuous of strings. Lukas had been different. But I would not be like Ma, hiding an essential truth for my entire life.

  Amy, I will not be around to watch out for you. You must learn to care for yourself.

  I sat in the dark waiting as the sleeping pills took effect. As it grew murkier and the world around me faded into oblivion, I stepped on the gas. The headlights came on automatically and I switched them off. The icy water would make things quick. I started to fade and woke myself up. I did not want to be found here on the grass. I wanted to disappear, to return to the great oblivion of the sea, to our true home, the land of the unliving from which we had all originated.

  The car lurched, picked up speed, launched itself from the earth, and was free.

  Chapter 31

  Amy

  Monday, May 16

  We are silent after listening to Ma’s story. My head spins. I feel nauseous. I cup my nose and mouth in my hands and breathe deeply to stop from passing out. When I recover enough to look around, Pa’s face is wooden and streaked with red, whether from embarrassment or anger, I do not know. Helena is blinking back tears and Willem stares at the floor. I slowly realize that I am the only one who is utterly astounded. The rest of them already knew.