“Hello, Dad,” said Tang, as the man neared him.
“You waited here so long to say hello? You couldn’t come over to my shop?” Da-Shun paused to look at his son. “Hello, then,” he said in Cantonese and continued on his way.
“Dad?” Tang replied, but his father continued, slowly shuffling down the street. The hesitation was briefest, but it felt very long to Tang, who decided to follow his father. “Dad? Dad, please, I need to talk to you.”
“You need? You need to talk after all these years. When I needed to talk you, you wouldn’t listen, you ran away. Since twelve-years old you’ve been running. You only came home for money, or protection, before you run away again. I supposed to listen?”
“That is why I must talk to you, Dad. Please let us talk.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, as he continued his shuffle up the road to the Kwun Yum Temple. It was a habit of his to go to the temple every night and light incense, for very personal reasons, to the goddess whose name was Kuan Yin and for whom the temple was dedicated. The beautiful statue that was built to honor her was about twenty feet high. When Da-Shun had first married Tang’s mother, it was difficult for her to conceive. Each day after work, he came to the goddess and asked that she would bless them with a son and once his wife conceived, he continued to pray every day to her. She is most often worshipped by those seeking children, but there are those, who pray to her for salvation, for her benevolence and for favors. She is also the protector of children and hence, many parents continue to pray to her.
Today he came to give thanks to her for returning his son. He was angry because it took so long for his son to return and asked forgiveness, because he had thought she had abandoned him. The sight of his son put to bed that thought and restored his faith in the goddess, Kuan Yin. He was happy, for the goddess had, once again, fulfilled a prayer to bring his son back to him. But he was still lost, for after these many years, he didn’t know what to say to his son and prayed for guidance. He prayed that now since the goddess had returned his son, she would remove the bitterness from his heart, to open his mind and ears. He loved the goddess for his son, but he hated her, because it cost him his wife who died during childbirth.
Tang followed his father into the temple where they both lit incense and humbled themselves before the goddess of mercy. As they prayed, Tang clenched his eyes as his prayer came from the depth of his soul, from the center of his chi, and with all his heart. The father looked over at his son from the corner of his eyes and took notice of the solemn moment. It was the first time he had seen his son praying with his heart and he could feel the calming nature of the temple overwhelm the anger he had harbored over all the years. Da-Shun embraced the peace the goddess was affording him, just as a sailor would yield to the gentle breeze after fighting a battle with a bitter storm. It was as if the fog had lifted from the sea and he saw that it wasn’t Tang to blame for the death of his mother. No one was to blame. It was just one of those things that sometimes happen. He released his anger and a weight eased from his soul. He bowed again before the goddess, in gratitude for her wisdom and broke away to walk in the gardens, knowing that Tang, his son, would follow.
“I didn’t think that after all these years you would still come up here everyday, Dad.”
“It’s on my way home,” said Da-Shun. “It is restful here. Quiet. I like the peace.”
“So, it is.”
“Why after all these years? Why have you come back?” Da-Shun turned to look at Tang.
“Because, I lost my unborn son to violence and almost lost my woman. It made me think.”
“Think? About what?”
“How we never talk. It made me think hard and you know, I just couldn’t remember.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t remember the last time I saw you. I couldn’t remember you beyond the image of this picture.” Tang showed his father the only picture that he carried with him each day. “Something about losing your child, even if it is unborn. It hurt. The hurt made me wonder how you and Mom survived the lost of your first baby.”
“I didn’t think you knew about him.” Da-Shun paused to look at Tang. “It was hard, Tang, but we managed with faith and the goddess.”
“Why did you hate me, Dad? Did you know how much it hurt?”
“It wasn’t you that I hated so much, but that because of you, your mother was dead.”
“You loved her that much?”
“Yes, very much. It was a rare relationship between your mother and me. We were pledged to each other a few days after she was born. We were lucky that love grew between us when we were finally allowed to meet. But that is the past and this is the present. You said your unborn son died. I’m very sorry Tang, for your great loss.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Must you be so formal, Tang?”
“How else should I be? You don’t approve of me or my line of work.”
“Tang, it's not that I don’t approve. It’s that - - I just don’t understand your involvement with those men.”
“Perhaps it is because with them, I have a sense of family.”
“Did you join with them to get back at me?”
“In the beginning, yes.”
“And now?”
“It’s a comfortable way of life. I do my job and then I go back to my apartment.”
“Except now you are engaged to the boss’s daughter and you’ll be drawn even deeper into the spider’s web. Oh don’t look so surprised, Tang. We do get the Post on this side of the island you know. Your old amah makes a point of cutting out the articles about the Choi’s and showing me your picture with them. Yes. She’s very proud of your success.”
“And you Father?”
“I’m not so sure you’re successful. I haven’t seen you in what? How long has it been?”
“About nine years.”
“Nine long, slow years. In nine years, you’ve changed from a teenager to a man. I was denied the pleasure of watching you mature. You left when you were what? About 15 or 16?”
“Father that - - your life was centered here in Stanley. I didn’t want to remain here for the rest of my life. I wanted to go to university. If I stayed here, I wouldn’t have been allowed.”
“I wanted you to have a better life, a simpler life.”
“Like yours.”
“No. Not like mine. I wanted yours to be better than mine.”
“A life I’ve chosen for myself.”
“Against my wishes.”
“What would you have me be? Did you want me to be a shopkeeper, or worse, a dai pai dong owner, eking out a meager existence?”
“At least, that gives honest pay for honest work.”
“I get paid very well for doing honest, hard work, Father.”
“But at what cost? How many people have you hurt or killed? You’ll have to pay for that someday.” Da-Shun paused to take in deep the scent of the garden.
“People don’t get hurt unless they did something wrong.”
“Humph. Are you going to marry this Choi woman?” He asked in Cantonese.
“Yes. That’s my intention.”
“Has her family approved?”
“More or less.”
Da-Shun didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t the stomach or strength to be the soldier his son was, but was proud of his strength. “I never understood your choice and never will.”
“It wasn’t a hard choice to make. Sometimes, you have to take a risk to get the reward you seek. Don’t you understand, Dad? I didn’t want to be locked into poverty all my life.”
“Like me, I suppose?”
“I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“No, of course not, but your words are true. I couldn’t have given you an education and if you remained my son, you would have been working for me, or a close friend.”
“I’m still your son and you are still my father.”
Da-Shun studied his son. After a very long pause, he k
new it was useless not to accept him for wanting to be his own man. “Yes. You are my son, filled with your mother’s pride and I’m still your father. Welcome home, Tang.” Da-Shun embraced Tang. Peace was stilling the rough waters to be still like a clear glass, the way it does in the early morning before sunlight has broken across the sky. A new day was beginning in their relationship and Da-Shun was determined to try to understand his son in the short time he had left. They returned to the temple, and lit more incense to the goddess in thanks, for the reunion both had privately prayed would occur.
Tang went back to his father’s apartment with him. It was a very simple room with a small eight-inch black and white TV set on top of the counter, next to the stove and sink. It was a small single room with one bed, one locked chest, one chair and table. The bathroom was a shared facility down the hall. In one way, he was better off than most in that he had his own private room. Many others were forced, out of necessity, to share even a single room of this small size. He watched his father begin taking pots from the cupboard. He feared using up his father's precious supply of food, but didn’t want to say anything that could hurt his sense of honor.
“Dad, it’s a special occasion. Why don’t we go out for dinner?”
“No. Tonight is special and this is something I want to do for you. Tonight, I want to make dinner for my son and learn about what has happened in your life. I want to try to understand why you have chosen to be like my brother over in the Golden Mountain.”
“You mean Uncle Robert?” Tang questioned with respect.
“Yes, Uncle Robert. Long ago, we had a bitter dispute and said words we should never have said. We argued about the right way to live. He chose a life similar to yours. Years later, he regretted his decision,” said Da-Shun, while taking a picture off the shelf to show Tang. “He sent me this some time ago after he settled in some small town called Astoria, on the west coast. He said I was right and that he regretted what he had done. He asked if I would write to him at the address on the back. I never could. I felt I had lost face in front of him, just as I have lost face in front of you.”
“You never lost face in front of me, Dad. Never.”
Tang didn’t want to admit that Uncle Robert was the reason for his return. He took a quick glance at the photograph, recognizing instantly the man in the picture and memorizing the address on the reverse side. Tang had met the man over the course of years and knew him to be a former council member of the Seattle tong. They had developed a close relationship but never once, realized they were related. He had heard stories about an Uncle Robert, but never thought his Uncle Robert was the same Robert Hsui he knew in the States. He returned the photo to his father before helping set the table. The contradiction that even if this was the worst food he ever ate, it would be the best he ever tasted, because the food came from the sweat and toil of his father’s hands, made him smile. They sat and talked for hours into the night. It was a long and slow reconciliation, but it was one that both men wanted. Tang, because he saw what the loss of even an unborn child had meant to him. His father, because he saw after all the years gone by that being stubborn and pig headed was not necessarily the right path to take in life.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Richard got dressed feeling that today was going to be spectacular. There was something in the air. He could feel it, sense it, and it made him feel good as he moved from his bedroom, through the servant passageway and into the Choi apartment’s new foyer. Picking up the various morning papers, he made his way to the terrace when he noticed the maid. “I’ll have coffee.”
The maid saw Richard scanning the paper as he walked out onto the terrace. Promptly she went to the kitchen, fetched the coffee and brought it out to him on a tray. She was shocked to see and hear Richard laughing as he was usually very grim.
Richard didn’t notice the maid’s arrival. “He did it! My son did it. The slut’s definitely ruined. All will see the Choi women for who they truly are, vagabond sluts.” When he noticed the maid standing there quivering, he snapped at her. “What are you doing, you foolish girl? Pour the coffee and leave!”
Fearfully, the maid made to pour but in her effort to move quickly, spilled the coffee all over Richard. He reacted by hitting her squarely on the jaw. She fell to the floor crying.
“You bitch! Look what you’ve done! This’ll come out of your pay!” Richard stood up, dropped the South China Morning Post by his side and threw the cup at her, smashing it on the ground as she humbled herself in fear at his feet. “Clean this up and stop crying, you imbecile!” Richard pushed her out of his way with his foot before he stalked back to his bedroom to change.
The immature maid, a young, unattractive girl, cried as she cleaned up the mess. Her face stung where Richard had hit her. She hated Richard and would leave if she could, but finding work when you're uneducated was tough. She looked at the page that had only moments earlier made him laugh. She was barely able to read English and so she took the paper into the kitchen with the broken cup and saucer.
Diane, the cook, saw the young maid was upset and tried to console her. “What happened?”
“I was trying to serve Mr. Cheng,” she stopped and shook, uncontrollably. “He made me very nervous. He always makes me nervous, you know that,” she continued.
“I know. I know. Oh, you poor thing. Calm down and tell me what happened.”
“I bring coffee. I pour coffee but,” The tears slowed and she blew her nose in a tissue she took from her pocket. “But, I see picture in paper of Sammy.” The young girl dried her eyes.
“Sammy?” Diane knew the name was familiar but couldn’t place it.
“You know, Sammy. You like his music on the radio,” said the young girl, referring to one of Hong Kong’s Canto-Pop stars who was hitting it big in the record charts.
“Ah yes, Sammy. What happen?” Diane didn’t realize Mrs. Choi had come into the kitchen and stood in the doorway listening.
“I saw his picture and - -” but, she starting crying again. It took the cook some time, but she got the girl to quiet down enough, so she could speak. “I saw his picture and forgot I was pouring. I poured coffee all over Mr. Cheng. He got mad and he hit me,” said the maid, who buried her face in the elder woman’s shoulder.
Diane couldn’t help thinking that the girl was way too young and sensitive to be working in this household. Secretly, Diane liked the idea of burning off Richard’s dick. “It’ll be okay. He won't remember for long.”
“He was not himself. He’ll remember and hurt me again.”
“Richard was not himself? What do you mean?” Diane said in Cantonese.
“He was laughing and calling Mrs. Choi and daughter sluts. He said it was in the paper, but I can’t read English, but it must be there.”
Diane reached for the paper on the counter to see if she could find the article the girl was referencing. Her eyes opened wide as she read. “Do you know what this says?”
“No,” said the young maid as she sat in the chair offered by the cook.
“What else did Mr. Cheng say?” Diane read and re-read the article with the two pictures, one of Mrs. Choi, the other of Lauren and Tang.
“He said he did it, that his son did it. But, I didn’t know he had a son.”
“No one knows much about him. There were rumors. What else did he say?”
“Just Mrs. Choi and daughter sluts. What does paper say?”
“It says Ms. Choi was pregnant and that the unborn baby took the bullet.”
Mrs. Choi entered the room quickly, making her presence felt. It took all her strength to keep her anger in check. “Did Mr. Cheng do this to you?’’ Catherine demanded as she gently touched the maid’s bruise. The girl nodded her head. “He called both of us sluts?”
The girl nodded her head again. “Yes, Mrs. Choi.”
“Has he ever said anything else?”
“He always is calling you bad names.”
“What names?”
“Bad names
, each time he comes from your room in the morning. He be cursing you and the gods that made him sleep with you. He say one day he get back for all aggra- aggravation.”
“How long has he been saying these things?”
“Since I first come here, little over two year.”
Mrs. Choi’s eyes were opened wide in anger. She didn’t want to take it out on the poor child for it wasn’t her fault, she heard what she heard, nor that she was now the messenger. “Is your family here in Hong Kong?”
“No, Macao.”
“I think its time you go to see them.”
“Oh, no, no, no. Please, please Mrs. Choi, I need this job. My family needs this job. I will be better, I promise.” The maid, scared out of her skin, began crying again hysterically.
“Hush the girl,” Catherine told Diane, who quickly tried to calm down the young maid. “I’m not firing you. I’m only sending you home for a week to be with your family. When you’ve calmed down and you’re okay, you can come back. Understand? Diane, please make her understand. Richard will not bother you any more. You and Diane will not speak of what happened with Richard, or what was in this newspaper. Do you understand?” Catherine watched both women nod their heads. “Give her two week's extra pay and see to it that she is on the afternoon boat to Macao. Remember Diane, I don’t want to hear others discussing this! And she gets the full two week’s salary in cash now, and another extra two weeks pay when she returns.”
“Yes, Mrs. Choi.”
“Take good care of her.” Catherine left them with paper in hand, walked to the foyer where she knew the guards were stationed. “Tell Tang I wish to see him on the terrace, at once.”
The Dragon Within His Shadow Page 22
