by Liu, Cynthea
They got out of the cab and stood on the sidewalk. “He says this is the building.” Peter pointed at a fifteen-story high-rise that couldn’t have been more than a few years old. “The address is correct.”
“But . . . ”
Then Cece realized what had happened. “Oh, no, Peter. The orphanage must have been torn down.”
Peter stepped closer to the building. He read the directory by the door. “No, Cece, I think it is still here. There is a children’s welfare center on the fifth floor.”
“That isn’t the same.” Cece gestured at the new roads and the shiny buildings. “Where I grew up is gone. . . . It’s like everything has been erased.” Tears began to well up in her eyes. “It’s like a part of me has been erased.”
“You cannot think that way,” Peter said. “I know this is not what you expected, but we should go in and see what we learn, okay?”
Cece wiped at her face. “I don’t know, Peter.”
Peter gently pulled her toward the building. “You just follow me. I will see what I can find out.”
Cece nodded, letting Peter lead her inside.
They took the elevator to the fifth floor and entered a hall where they found the door to the orphanage. Cece pushed back her hair and tugged at her shirt, trying to get herself back together again.
“Are you ready?” Peter said.
Cece took in a breath. “Yeah.”
Peter pressed the buzzer.
A young woman opened the door. Peter talked to her in Chinese, and the woman’s face brightened. Cece tried to understand what they were saying, but, like her visit to Peter’s house, the pace was much too fast. She could pick up only a word here and there. Finally, the lady asked them to come in.
They stepped inside, and right away, Cece was taken aback by what she saw. She hadn’t expected to see something that looked like a day-care center in the middle of a high-rise. But here, toddlers ran freely and plastic toys were everywhere. Different rooms branched from the lobby, where Cece could see small beds and children playing with staff.
Several care workers, holding the hands of young children, came in to look curiously at Peter and Cece. While Peter spoke to them, Cece studied the children’s faces. They looked healthy and happy, interested to know who Cece and Peter were. Cece was surprised. Somehow she imagined the kids would be sullen and unkempt. But it was obvious they were well cared for and loved. Cece wondered if she had been treated as well when she was an orphan.
Peter turned to Cece. “One of the care workers will get the director.”
Cece nodded.
Soon a formally dressed woman walked in and talked to Peter. As Peter replied, the expression on the director’s face became stern. Cece heard, “Bu xing.” She knew what that meant: That’s not okay.
“What’s wrong, Peter?” Cece asked.
“Stay here,” Peter said.
The next thing Cece knew, Peter and the director were walking out of the center. “Peter?”
He shook his head as if to quiet Cece, then closed the door behind him.
The care workers and the kids were still staring at Cece. Some of the children began talking to one another. Then one of the kids spoke to her. Her voice was cute. “Ni shi shei?”
Who am I? Cece cleared her throat, “Uh...wo jiao Cece.”
The children began talking to one another once more and giggled as though Cece had just said the funniest thing. Cece blushed.
The door opened again, and Peter and the director returned.
“Everything is okay, Cece,” Peter said. “The director is happy to have her administrator give you a tour. Afterward, the director will try to answer any questions you might have.”
Cece looked at the director, who smiled, and she wondered what Peter had done to make the director change her mind. But she knew now was not the time to ask.
The director left the room, and moments later, a young lady, holding a clipboard, introduced herself. “Hello, I am Chang Hui.” Her accent was heavy. “Excuse me, Cece?” she said. “My English not so good. Okay I talk to your friend?”
“That’s fine,” Cece said. Chang Hui turned to Peter and began speaking.
Peter translated. “She says the orphanage was taken down only a couple of years ago. Now it is reestablished here.”
Chang Hui took them to a large playroom, where kids between the ages of two and four were running about. As soon as the children saw Cece and Peter, many of them gathered around like the others had done. They began speaking animatedly in Chinese. This time Cece only partly understood them. They wanted her to do something, but she didn’t know what. “What are they saying?” Cece asked.
“They want you to play a game with them,” Peter said. “Pretend games. You can be the princess.”
Princess? The idea that these kids wanted to play make-believe with her made her heart warm. Then she noticed something about them that gave her pause.
“Peter, everyone here is a girl,” she whispered.
Chang Hui had heard her. “Yes, we have many girls,” she said proudly. “Only three boys.”
“Cece?” Peter said. “Are you all right?”
Cece forced a smile, and they continued the tour. But as they moved from one room to the next, she kept thinking about what her father had said about the one-child policy. Girls given up in favor of boys.
No, that can’t be true for everyone, Cece reminded herself.
They went through the preschool room, the cafeteria, and the sleeping rooms for the older children. The last stop was the nursery, where row after row of cribs had been lined up. Cece refocused her thoughts on what Peter was saying.
“Chang Hui says the most seasoned workers care for the babies,” Peter said. “They are assigned to only two infants at a time, so everyone receives proper attention.” Indeed, there were about fifteen staff members in their forties and fifties here, holding, rocking, singing to the little ones. “Many of the workers have been here since the orphanage opened in 1980,” he went on. “Around the time when China first allowed foreign adoption.”
“So it’s possible,” Cece said, “that someone here may have taken care of me?”
“Yes,” Peter said, smiling.
Cece scanned the room on the slim chance that someone might seem familiar to her, but nothing roused her memory. “Maybe we can ask the director if someone here knows me.”
Peter nodded. “We will.”
Chang Hui finished the tour and led them back to the director’s office. Along the way, a staff member asked Chang Hui a question. As she answered, Cece whispered to Peter, “What did you talk to the director about earlier?”
“She was upset that we hadn’t made an appointment. She told me an orphanage visit must be planned, and it costs money. So I let my money talk.”
“You bribed her?”
“Bribe is not the right word, Cece. This is how you must sometimes do business in China. I scratch your back—”
“You scratch mine. I get it. Well, don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.”
“Okay, but you’ll have to come to dinner again.”
Cece rolled her eyes. “Peter.”
They neared the office, and Chang Hui opened the door.
The director looked pleased to see Peter and Cece again. They took a seat in front of her desk. Then Cece let Peter lead the conversation as she tried to pick up bits and pieces of what they were saying. Eventually, she decided it was pointless. All she could understand was her name over and over again. So she gave up, her head hurting from concentrating so hard. Finally, Peter turned to Cece and asked her for her Chinese name, her birth date, her parent’s names, and when she had been adopted.
Cece took this as a good sign and relayed the information.
The director spoke some more, and Peter stopped the conversation to catch Cece up.
“Cece, there is good news.”
Cece straightened. “There is?”
“The director says she can find out who your care worker
was. She can obtain the information from your health records. They are archived in the central office, so it might take a few weeks. I have already given her my address and phone number.”
“That’s great, Peter.”
“She also said she can provide you with your finding record. The record contains information about where you were found, your age at the time, your weight. Things like that.”
Cece felt a tiny shred of hope light up inside her. “Would it say something about my birth parents?”
Peter spoke to the director some more.
She replied, and Peter translated.
“I guess that is the bad news,” Peter said. “She says the parents of orphaned children in China are rarely identified to the state, and for a good reason. It is illegal to abandon a child, so those who do it make sure they’re not caught.”
“So I won’t find out.”
Peter spoke with the director again.
“She said it was very unlikely. She has never seen that information for any of her children.”
Upon hearing this, Cece felt like a door to a part of her life had just been shut. She knew she wasn’t supposed to have expectations about finding her birth parents, but she hadn’t planned on someone saying that finding them would be next to impossible.
“Are you okay?” Peter said.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Keep it together, Cece.
“Do you want me to ask about anything else?”
Cece could hardly think. “No. Can we go, Peter?”
After the meeting concluded, Cece and Peter stepped out of the office, only to find a few staff members, including Chang Hui, hovering outside as if they had been listening in. Chang Hui whispered to Peter. “Come with me. I try to help.”
Cece held her breath. They followed her to the nursery and watched her close the door. She gathered the care workers together.
“She’s telling them what she heard in the office,” Peter said. “Cece, give her your photograph.”
Cece quickly pulled it out of her wallet.
Each of the staff members studied the picture, then eventually one stepped forward. Her face was weathered and kind, and she was taking a particular interest in the birthmark on Cece’s face. She glanced at the picture again. “Ying-Ying.”
“Ying-Ying?” Cece repeated. “What’s that?”
“It’s a name,” Peter said. “Like a nickname.”
“My nickname?” He heart raced. “She knows me?”
Peter nodded. “I think so.”
The woman spoke slowly to Cece, introducing herself. “Wo shi Wang Mei Ling.” She smiled.
I am Wang Mei Ling.
Then the woman talked to Peter, and soon Peter was smiling, too.
“Yes, Cece, she knows who you are. Your orphanage name was Bei Ma Hua. But they always called you Ying-Ying. It means firefly. You have the same bright eyes. The same mark on your face. She says she would not forget you. She raised you since you were weeks old.”
Cece was stunned from the news. She knows me.
The woman reached out, her fingertips grazing Cece’s cheek. “Zhen piao liang.”
Cece’s face warmed from her touch, bringing her a sense of calm. Piao liang. “Pretty. She said I was pretty.”
Peter nodded.
Cece studied the woman, and as she looked longer into the woman’s eyes, she felt something. Something familiar. Like she had seen that tender expression before. Was she finally connecting with someone at last?
Mei Ling pulled Cece to a nearby sofa, and all of them sat. She shared stories of Cece as a child, and Peter translated.
“You were such a picky eater,” Peter relayed. “You did not like to try anything new. Except for ice cream.”
Cece smiled.
“You also loved to sing, and you were always very shy about it. But it never took long before you were the loudest of the bunch.”
Mei Ling laughed, then she hummed a little tune. It was catchy and melodic.
“That was your favorite song,” Peter explained. “It is a popular children’s nursery rhyme.”
Cece knew then she really was getting a part of her life back and in a way she hadn’t expected at all. She thought a simple tour of her own orphanage would have been it. But to meet her own care worker? What luck!
Mei Ling continued on with more stories. How Cece always clung to her leg in front of strangers. How studious she was when she played with her favorite toys. How big hearted when it came to sharing with others. What a sweet child she had been—a joy to love. Then Mei Ling wanted to know everything about Cece. How were her parents? Did she have a nice home? Was she doing well in school? Cece tried to tell Mei Ling everything she could. But soon it was time for Cece to go. One of Mei Ling’s children was crying out to her.
Mei Ling had one last thing to say. Her voice became quiet—so quiet Cece could barely hear her.
“What did she say?” Cece asked Peter.
“She says she knows why you came here. Any daughter would want to know. She is not sure if this will help, but she will try.”
Then the woman got up and went to a counter. She wrote something on a notepad, then tucked the note into Peter’s hand. She shared a few words with him.
Peter said, “We need to go now. We are not to say anything more.”
Cece looked quizzically at Peter as her heart drummed in her chest. What had the woman written?
Cece gave Mei Ling a hug good-bye, and Mei Ling whispered in her ear. “Bu yao ku, baobei.” She pulled away from her and dabbed at the corner of her eye.
When Peter and Cece exited the orphanage, Cece repeated back what Mei Ling had said. “Bu yao ku, baobei. Don’t ... don’t what, Peter? Why did she look so sad?”
“She said, ‘Don’t cry, Cece. That is all.’”
“Don’t cry? What did she give you then? What did she tell you in the note?”
“It’s an address,” Peter said when they reached the elevator.
“An address? For my parents?”
“I don’t know, Cece.” Peter consulted his map as they stepped into the elevator. “It’s not very far.” He checked his watch. “But we do not have much time.”
They hailed the first cab they saw and soon found themselves in a residential neighborhood made up of rich homes that had sloping gray-tiled roofs and private courtyards. Every dwelling looked meticulously cared for. The streets were swept clean, and the people looked better dressed than the average citizen. Cece filled with consternation. “I don’t like this.”
The taxi slowed to a stop and parked in front of an impeccable home. It, too, was built in a traditional style, with a sloping gray roof. The front was fenced in with iron and partially obscured by a wooden gate. Cece could make out a fountain beyond the fence and a uniformed attendant working on the landscaping. A brand-new Mercedes was parked along the walk.
What does this place have to do with me? Cece thought.
Everything about it felt wrong. Whoever lived here had money. Lots of it.
Then she saw a boy come out of the house, bouncing a basketball along the walk.
A boy.
Perhaps he was a few years younger, but the sight of him overwhelmed Cece. Was he her replacement? Was he the one who would carry on the family name? Suddenly, her throat felt tight. She could barely find her words. “I can’t do this, Peter.” Her hands shook in her lap.
Mei Ling had told her not to cry.
“Peter,” Cece said louder. “I can’t do this.”
“But—”
“Don’t,” Cece said.
Peter didn’t say anything. He merely placed a hand over hers, then asked the driver to keep going.
Back at the hotel, Cece was sitting on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chin. Kallyn paced the room. “Cece, you can’t draw conclusions like that. You don’t even know if that was your parents’ house.”
Peter nodded from his chair beside Cece’s bed. “Kallyn is right. Maybe the people who live there know where they might
be.”
“I doubt it,” Cece said. “Mei Ling told me not to cry.” She picked at a loose thread on her shorts. “She knows my story isn’t good.”
He sighed. “Cece, you could be very wrong.”
“Peter, I can put two and two together.” She snapped the thread. “I saw the house. I saw the boy. I saw all those girls at the orphanage—”
“You’re only guessing,” Kallyn said.
Cece’s mind couldn’t be changed. “Maybe I’m better off not knowing anything.”
“Cece,” Kallyn said. “I think you’re losing sight of the big picture here.”
“And that is?”
“You got to meet your care worker, didn’t you? Isn’t that something? To know what you were like as a child?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You shouldn’t let what you saw at that house take that away from you.”
“Yes, Cece,” Peter said. “You must concentrate on the good.”
As Cece looked at her friends, it became clear to her that they didn’t understand. She let out a long breath.
Kallyn sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sure you’ll think about this differently if you give it some time.”
“I don’t think so,” Cece said. “Guys, I know you’re trying to make me feel better. But let’s drop this, okay?”
“Cece,” Kallyn said.
“No, I mean it. I want to let it go.”
That evening, as Cece rode the overnight train back to Xi’an, she couldn’t sleep. Even though she had wanted to let it go, all she could think about was that house in Beijing and that boy. She closed her eyes, but the tears still managed to escape.
For so long, she had wanted to believe something that was unlikely to be true, and now the answer seemed to be right in front of her. All those girls in the orphanage—abandoned because of their gender.
It made her question the kind of birth parents she had—what they were capable of. And worst of all, it made her believe she never wanted to know them.
Cece’s chest panged with hurt. She turned on her side and pulled the blankets up to her chin. As the train rolled forward, she lay awake, knowing that she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.
When the group returned to the dorms the next morning, Cece was exhausted. But there was one thing she had to do. She got out her calling card and dialed the phone in the hall. As the phone rang her house, she tried to breathe evenly.
