by Anne R. Tan
She closed the door and returned to the kitchen, gingerly placing the package on the island. The lucky cat clock ticked, its little plastic eyes and tail swaying back and forth to the seconds. She took a deep breath. This was not a repeat of the last time. No one was trying to curse her. With a package knife in her hand, she reached for the box.
The phone rang. A loud piercing cha-ling-a-ling.
Raina jumped and dropped the knife. She abandoned the task and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
All she got was a dial tone. If this was a B-rated horror movie, she was determined not to end up playing the dead bimbo. She returned the phone to the cradle. The silence in the kitchen was deafening. No creaking floorboards. No TV in the background. Her stomach churned at the realization that she was in the old Victorian by herself.
Cha-ling-a-ling. Cha-ling-a-ling.
Raina snatched the phone. “Hello,” she barked into the receiver. “Hello.”
No answer.
It had to be one of the teenage girls who had a crush on her younger brother prank calling. Her hands shook when she returned the phone to the cradle.
BAM! BAM!
Raina swiveled her head, glancing at the hallway that led to the front door. The doorknob rattled. Someone was determined to get into the house.
3
A Small Prank
As Raina peered through the privacy glass cutout in the front door, her heart hammered in her chest. She could make out blurred red shapes on the landing and nothing else. Did the courier return with another package? Did she really want to see what was on the other side of the door?
BAM!
A loud knock came from the backdoor in the kitchen.
Raina jumped as if someone prodded her with a hot iron. Her fingers curled into fists. Enough already. She wasn't going to let a prankster terrify her in her childhood home.
As Raina jerked the door open, she yelled, “What do you want?”
There was no one on the landing.
The pink bakery box from the Golden Gate Bakery rested on top of a red suitcase. She leaned out, glancing up and down the street. What was her grandma's luggage doing at the house?
“What are you doing?” Po Po asked from behind her.
Raina stumbled over the threshold, banging her funny bone against the doorframe. The tingly sensation ran the length of her arm.
Her grandma peered at her above fake half-moon glasses. “Rainy, you can’t even put on underwear without hurting yourself. I’m surprised you’re able to walk around without a helmet.”
Raina shook her arm, hoping to dull the pain. “How did you get inside the house? I thought you would be in Gold Springs for a few more days.”
“I came in through the back door using the doghouse key. How come you didn't answer my calls or open the front?” Po Po asked, sounding miffed at having to come in from the back door. There was a backdoor key hidden in the doghouse in the backyard.
“I did, but you hung up both times when I picked up,” Raina said, just as put off herself. “Where are your keys?”
Po Po shrugged, reaching for the bakery box. “It's somewhere in the condo. I hightailed out of town this morning as soon as Matthew showed up. Maggie is cranky from cabin fever. I told him to load his grandma up with canned soup and said I would be back in a few days to check on her. If I’d known Matthew would be back so soon, I would have come home last night for Lila's party.”
Raina went into the house, dragging the suitcase inside and setting it next to the stairs. She pretended the news of her ex-boyfriend's activities was no more interesting than a discussion about the weather. She followed her grandma into the kitchen.
Po Po cocked her head and studied Raina. “You're too quiet. What’s going on? Why are you…nervous?” Her grandma’s tone became serious.
“Nothing.”
“I can tell by your voice. Did you get a spook? The ghost will leave you alone if you leave out a burning incense.” Po Po mumbled to herself. “Geez, why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”
“No, it has nothing to do with her.” The ghost her grandma was referring to was “Weeping May,” a Chinese lady who threw herself off the balcony in the 1920s when she was jilted at the altar. No one in the family had encountered her, except for Po Po. “I got a package from an unknown sender a minute ago.”
“What’s in it?”
“I was just about to open it.”
“Uh-huh. Are your underpants smoking yet? I bet you were looking for an excuse to delay opening it.”
Raina glanced at the cardboard box. Her grandma was right. She reached for the package knife and from the corners of her eyes noticed Po Po taking a step back. She sliced the package and opened the flaps.
Nestled among Styrofoam peanuts was her purse.
Her hands shook as she laid the packaging knife on the kitchen island. Why would someone mug her and return her purse? Either the mugger knew her, or whoever he worked for did. And this person knew her well enough to know where she stayed when she was in the City since her driver's license showed her Gold Springs home address.
“Rainy?” Po Po sounded concerned.
“It’s my purse.” Raina explained the whole story, starting with finding the missing journal and the mugging at the BART station a few hours later.
Po Po’s posture stiffened at the mention of her husband’s journal. “Did you read it?” she whispered.
“I could only verify it belonged to Ah Gong before I got roped into a chat with Uncle Martin.”
“Is there anything missing from the purse?”
Raina reached for the box and paused. “Should I be concerned about fingerprints?” Fear was making her careless. The mugger would have wiped the bag down before mailing it back to her.
Po Po snorted in disgust. “Really?”
Raina inventoried the items. Cell phone, wallet, keys, lip balm, hair tie, a pen, and…a package of firecrackers? “The journal is missing, and the mugger left firecrackers.”
“What?”
Raina held up the little red package. Her family set off several strands of these in front of the house every Chinese New Year to ward off evil spirits.
“Do you think the mugger purposely attacked you for the journal? Maybe we should sic Weeping May on him.”
Raina settled back on her heels, feeling the energy drain out of her. No freaking way. But it was the only thing that made any sense. If not for the return of the purse, she would have written off the incident at the BART station as nothing more than big city crime.
“Is the mugger trying to ward off the evil inside the journal? Or are the firecrackers to ward off my evil thoughts? Or is it a calling card?” Not that Raina had any kind of power to explode someone’s head just from her thoughts alone.
“There aren’t any recent crimes on the news involving firecrackers. No, I think the firecrackers are directly linked to our little family drama.”
Raina considered her options. She could either hide in the house, pretending the return of the purse was a lucky coincidence, or chase the journal’s secrets until she fell into a rabbit hole. Neither was much of a choice, but there was her grandma to consider.
The three-million-dollar inheritance was an albatross. Her sister and cousins believed Raina had influenced their dying grandfather to change his will. It broke the fragile relationships she had with her family and forced her to leave the city. No, her grandma wasn’t the only victim who needed closure.
“What are you planning to do?” Po Po’s voice held a hint of anxiety. “That mulish look always means trouble.”
“We need closure,” Raina whispered.
The lucky cat clock ticked, filling the silence between them.
Po Po gave Raina a deer in headlights look. “I need to unpack.” She hurried out of the kitchen.
Raina followed her grandma, reaching for the suitcase handle. They were silent on the way up, each lost in their own thoughts. Her grandma didn't need to unpack. It was an excuse to delay thei
r much-needed talk.
Last Christmas, Po Po finally admitted to being mad at Raina for hiding Ah Gong’s infidelity. As if by not saying anything, Raina had approved of her grandfather’s behavior even though she hadn’t known about it until the week before he’d passed on.
She still believed Po Po wouldn’t have been able to handle the truth at the time of her husband’s death. By keeping the secret, she had given her grandma time to grieve without questioning everything in her marriage, like she did now.
Raina set the suitcase on her grandma’s bed. The bedroom was much as she’d remembered from her childhood. An orchid-print comforter with matching orchid curtains. A mother-of-pearl inlaid rosewood dressing table with matching stool and mirror that her grandma had brought with her from Hong Kong when she immigrated to the U.S. as a new bride. And yet, the room was different. There were still framed photos of the family, but gone were the photos of the grandparents together as a couple.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, her grandfather’s secret family in China would ravage the Wong family when everyone found out.
“I…I’m afraid,” Po Po whispered. Her grandma clutched a pair of pajamas, twisting the gray silk into a laundress’s nightmare. “How can you share a bed for fifty years and never suspect he was in love with another woman?” Her tone was as flat as her eyes.
Raina didn't know what to say. There were only two possible responses to the question—either her grandma was a fool or things were not what they appeared. She had no idea which was worse, but she was a fool for waving the journal like a banner at the party.
“I need to sort out this family secret. I could never move forward with this shadow hanging over me.” Po Po glanced at Raina. “I need you to help me. I can’t do this by myself.”
Raina blinked at the tears burning in the back of her eyes. She hugged her grandma, rubbing the thin shoulders. Po Po sighed and returned the hug. As if a magician had just waved a wand over the pair, Raina’s world was normal again.
* * *
A few minutes later, Po Po dropped the pretense of unpacking and they headed into the kitchen to have a brainstorming session with Ben and Jerry. There was no problem Chunky Monkey couldn’t solve. One carton two spoons, just as Raina remembered from her childhood. All this traipsing up and down the stairs made her hungry.
“Where are you supposed to send the money?” Po Po asked.
“To a bank in China.” Raina licked the spoon to delay explaining why she didn’t look into the logistics of transferring the three million dollars to the other family. “I have no idea whether they needed the money to live on. And I’m ashamed to say I haven't sent them a cent.” She gave her grandma a rueful smile. “I was hoping the problem would...disappear.”
“I thought we were happy all these years,” Po Po mumbled into the carton. “I need to stop feeling like a victim.”
Raina dug her spoon into the ice cream in frustration. “I guess we need to pump Uncle Martin for information.” The idea had just as much appeal as putting on someone’s sweat-soaked shirt, but it had to be done in this case. If Uncle Martin put the move on Po Po in front of her, Raina would turn on the fire hydrant. Yuck!
Po Po blinked, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Of course! Let's go.” She dropped her spoon into the sink and hurled the ice cream carton back into the freezer.
Raina clutched her spoon in front of her, suddenly afraid. Should they have a game plan in case they dug up more than they could handle? “Do you like him?” she asked, stalling.
“We wouldn’t be friends if I didn’t.”
If Raina showed up with Po Po, did it mean she struck a deal with Uncle Martin? Should she warn Po Po since her grandma was oblivious to his continued interest?
The front door rattled, accompanied by voices and laughter. The Victorian didn't have the open floor plan in modern homes, so it took another minute before Mom and Hudson appeared in the kitchen.
She looked flustered and taken aback to see both Raina and Po Po waiting expectantly at their entrance. “Oh.” She laughed, a silly little giggle that tested Raina's willpower to keep her eyes from rolling.
Raina knew she was acting like a brat around her mom, but it was hard to respect a parent who acted like a teenager. She didn't begrudge her mom for having a boyfriend. It had been over ten years since her dad's death and she didn't deserve to be alone for the rest of her life. No, it wasn’t the boyfriend that Raina objected to—it was the lack of interest in anyone else.
Hudson smiled at the audience. “Hi, Wong Po Po.” He nodded at Raina, who returned the greeting in kind.
“Po Po, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Hudson to the New Year’s Eve dinner,” Mom said.
Raina gave them a tight-lipped smile. It was traditional for family members to have a big dinner on Chinese New Year’s Eve to signify they would spend the upcoming year together as a happy family. For Mom to want to spend the evening with Hudson meant they were beyond the casual dating phase. Were they planning to announce an engagement?
“Not a problem,” Po Po said with a smile like she just got electrocuted. “Is Martin home this evening?”
“I’m not sure,” Hudson said. “Why?”
Uncle Martin didn’t own a cell phone. They would have to track him down the old fashioned way—by ringing the house phone until someone picked up.
Po Po shook her head. “I want to find someone to walk down memory lane. There aren’t that many people who knew Ah Gong as a young man.”
“Why are you thinking about Dad, Po Po?” Mom asked.
“I wondered what he did in China when he still wanted to save the world.”
The front door opened. Once again, laughing voices and thumps as heavy bags hit the floor. Win appeared with girlfriend in tow. Mom’s lips tightened into a thin line at the midriff-baring T-shirt on the girlfriend. Win and his girlfriend mumbled greetings, grabbed food from the refrigerator and disappeared into the living room.
Raina whispered to Po Po, “Let’s get out of here before someone asks about dinner.”
4
Bleach My Ears
Raina glanced up at the three-story townhouse. The interior lights were off. “I thought you said he's home.” The front light lit the small porch, spotlighting the two of them like they were on a stage.
Po Po pressed the doorbell again, leaning into the old-fashioned buzzer. “That's what he said on the phone.” She grabbed the bug screen on the window next to the porch, tugging it off the frame.
“What are you doing?” Raina glanced up and down the street. “What if the neighbors think we're breaking in?”
Po Po handed the screen to Raina. “I'm his hot young trophy girlfriend. They'll just think ditsy me forgot my keys.”
Raina ignored the comment about Po Po’s age. Her grandma’s voodoo math would have made her a decade younger than Uncle Martin even though she got the senior discount years earlier. “I don't think they could tell his girlfriend from a burglar when all they see is your behind hanging out.”
“You got a point there.” Po Po cupped her hands. “Your behind is skinnier, so up you go.”
Raina held the screen in front of her. “I’m not going up there.” At her grandma’s disappointed look, she added, “Let’s see if there’s a side window.”
By the time she replaced the bug screen, her grandma had already disappeared around the side of the house. She groaned, but trotted after her grandma, who appeared to need this ninja act to get over the emotional scene earlier.
Uncle Martin’s townhouse was a corner unit, which came with a luxurious four-feet-by-six-feet side yard, which commanded an additional twenty thousand dollars, or so they had been told. There was just enough room so he didn’t have to store his trashcans in the garage like the rest of his neighbors. The hinges squealed when Raina pushed open the gate.
Po Po teetered on the lid of the trashcan as she peered into a darkened window. Raina rushed fo
rward, hoping to steady her grandma. Her legs shot out from underneath her, just as rancid tomatoes hit her nostrils. Her arms flung out, banging against the trashcan, and her back slammed into the paved patio at the same time her grandma toppled onto Raina’s stomach. The trashcan clattered against the side of the house.
As Po Po slid off, Raina curled into a fetal position. Twice in less than forty-eight hours. She would spend the Year of the Monkey flat on her back without a man anywhere in sight.
“Rainy?” Po Po patted her face. “Are you okay?”
Raina brushed off the exploring hands and rolled into a sitting position. Damp liquid seeped through her pants. Rotten tomatoes. Yuck.
The light came on in the side window. “So Uncle Martin is home. It would have been much easier if we had kept banging on the door,” Raina said.
Uncle Martin was talking to his neighbor by the time Raina and Po Po turned to the front. He introduced the pair to Mrs. Keane, a woman in her late sixties with a tight perm and even tighter face. The yipping Boston terrier in her arms looked as if he needed a fire hydrant.
Mrs. Keane’s gaze traveled the length of Raina and dismissed her with a sniff. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Po Po. “Oh, Marty, your friends gave Gigi a heart attack. A single woman can’t be too careful with the riffraff in the city.” She glanced down demurely. “Quiet, Gigi. These are friends of Marty.”
Uncle Martin didn't notice the smoldering look Mrs. Keane gave him from beneath her lashes. He smiled at Po Po, his eyes twinkling as if he got a treat. “We’ll get out of your way. Sorry about Gigi.”
A few minutes later, Raina munched on an almond cookie in a living room straight out of the ‘60s—dark wood paneling covered an entire wall, shag carpeting that probably held several decades worth of dead skin cells, and bright geometric prints which competed with framed photos of his niece and nephew. She glanced at her hands just to give her eyes a break.
