by Ian Hamilton
“I know.”
While the women were gone, the band had set up and were tuning their instruments.
“We have to take the first dance,” Michael said to Amanda.
“And we have to go back to our hotel,” May said. “It’s been a long and strenuous day, and Changxing has to leave early tomorrow morning for Beijing.”
There was a quick round of kisses, hugs, and handshakes.
“I’ll see you at breakfast,” May said to Ava. “Don’t worry about the time. Just call me when you’re ready.”
An Andy Lau love song began to play softly in the background.
“That’s our signal,” Michael said.
“Let’s dance,” said Amanda.
The Wongs turned to leave. As they did, Ava noticed that May’s lips were tightly pursed and Changxing’s face was clouded. Something has gone wrong somewhere in their world, she thought.
The music swelled and Michael and Amanda took to the dance floor. They danced alone for the first half of the song, and then Amanda fetched her father and Michael led his mother onto the floor. The room erupted in cheers.
The rest of the evening was a blur for Ava. She had anticipated doing a lot of sitting and watching, but she ended up going from table to table with Amanda and Michael. Usually the bride and groom toasted their guests after the shark-fin soup was served, but the couple had decided to break with that tradition. Then Ava spent almost all her time on the dance floor. It started traditionally, with Peter, the best man, but then all of her half-brothers took their turn, and then her father. She hadn’t expected him to dance with her.
“This must be awkward for you,” she said.
“Not nearly as much as it was for you and Elizabeth,” he said.
“She was so gracious,” Ava said.
“I’m a lucky man.”
Ava didn’t ask what he meant.
As the evening progressed, Ava became the target of a very handsome man who was about her age or maybe younger. He told her he was a lawyer working for the Hong Kong government. What he didn’t mention, but Amanda did, was that he was the only son of one of the wealthiest real estate barons in the New Territories. He came on to her in a polite and persistent way, asking her twice if she would join him for dinner. She was tempted to tell him she was a lesbian, but he danced so well she didn’t want to lose him as a partner.
At midnight, tired in the nicest kind of way, Ava joined the rest of the wedding party at the ballroom exit to say goodbye to the guests. As they streamed past, it occurred to her that for the first time in her life she was actually part of this larger family. Before she had felt as if her mother, Marian, and she were stranded on some foreign island, her father a ship that passed from time to time, the aunties and the half-siblings distant islands. Now she had been publicly acknowledged as Marcus Lee’s daughter, as a half-sister to his four sons, and she had been endorsed by Elizabeth Lee. It gave her a feeling of community, something that her family in Canada wasn’t large enough to create. But here in Hong Kong, where anyone who was anyone knew everyone, and where families lived in close proximity and were constantly interacting, Ava now felt she had become a part of this wider circle.
As the last of the guests worked their way out of the ballroom, Michael spoke to the wedding party. He thanked everyone for their contribution to what had been a fantastic day. Ava listened until she became distracted by a figure just beyond Michael’s shoulder. He was standing out in the corridor, leaning with his back against the wall. It was Sonny, Uncle’s bodyguard and chauffeur, but it wasn’t the Sonny she was accustomed to seeing.
He was wearing, as he always did, a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. He was a big man, about six foot five, massive across the shoulders and chest, and despite his bulk he was incredibly agile, quick, and ferocious. He was one of the few people in the world that Ava doubted she could overcome physically. But the man standing in the corridor didn’t look like anyone to fear. His arms were crossed, his shoulders slumped, and his head hung low. He looked like a man who had crawled into himself to hide.
Without excusing herself, Ava left the group and walked towards him, her high heels clicking on the marble floor.
“Sonny,” she said.
He looked up, his eyes full of confusion. Ava wondered if he recognized her.
“Uncle has just been taken to hospital. It doesn’t look good,” he said.
She took him by the arm, turned, and left the corridor of the Grand Hyatt without looking back.
( 4 )
Ava had Sonny drive her to the Mandarin Oriental so she could change her clothes. On the way he told her that Uncle had actually seemed stronger that Saturday morning, and for the first time in weeks he had left his apartment to join Uncle Fong for lunch. Instead of the congee he’d been existing on, he ate his favourite dish: fried noodles with beef and XO sauce.
The restaurant was only a few blocks from Uncle’s Kowloon apartment, and he had insisted on walking there and back. Sonny had walked with him, offering his arm for support, which Uncle had declined. The elevator in the building was being serviced, so they had to climb four flights of stairs to get to the apartment. Sonny had offered to carry Uncle, at which point Uncle angrily told him to go about his own business. But Sonny didn’t leave; he followed him, a couple of steps behind, all the way up the stairs and saw him safely inside the apartment.
Lourdes had phoned Sonny just after eleven o’clock that night. Uncle had gone to the bathroom a bit earlier to throw up — not an uncommon thing for him to do. But she thought he looked particularly pale when he came out, and his eyes weren’t focused. In fact it seemed to her that he didn’t know where he was, or maybe even who he was. She followed him into the bedroom and tucked him in. A few minutes later she heard him vomiting and ran back into the room. There was a pool of blood on the sheets. He made a motion as if he wanted to go the bathroom, but when she tried to help him up, he collapsed. She called for an ambulance and then called Sonny. He had managed to get to the apartment before the ambulance arrived. Uncle was unconscious, breathing in whispers, his skin devoid of any colour.
Sonny had followed the ambulance to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in southern Kowloon. After Uncle had been admitted he drove to the Grand Hyatt.
“Is he in R Block?” Ava asked. R Block was the tower where she’d visited him before and where he’d been undergoing brachytherapy.
“No, Emergency.”
“Did you call Doctor Parker?”
“He should be there by now.”
At the Mandarin, Ava had dithered about what to wear to the hospital. She was in shock, she realized, and not thinking clearly. It was one thing to understand what was happening to Uncle, but it was another to accept the inevitable. As long as he’d kept meeting her for their morning congee, she’d been able to shunt the horrible reality from her mind. Now she knew there would be no congee tomorrow morning. Maybe no congee ever again.
Part of her knew it made no real difference what she wore, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was important to look good for him. She took out a black pencil skirt and a pink Brooks Brothers shirt with a modified Italian collar and French cuffs. She buttoned the shirt just short of the neck and joined the cuffs with green jade cufflinks. For the wedding she’d worn a pair of black stilettos; she slipped them on again and then stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was hanging loose around her face. She saw that her mascara was smeared and realized she had been crying. She brushed her hair, pulled it tightly back, and clasped it with her ivory chignon pin. She washed her face with cold water and then put on a light touch of red lipstick. She didn’t trust herself enough to attempt mascara.
She had met Dr. Parker twice before, both times at the hospital when Uncle had gone in for treatment. On those occasions Ava was in her more usual dress of Adidas track pants and black Giordano T-shirt. As sh
e walked through the entrance to the emergency department at the Queen Elizabeth, she saw him standing by the admissions desk.
“Doctor Parker,” she said.
He turned and stared as if he wasn’t sure he knew who she was. Then he saw Sonny and made the connection.
“Ms. Lee. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” Dr. Parker said.
Parker was a gweilo, an Englishman in his late thirties or early forties, and Ava had initially been surprised that Uncle had chosen him as his doctor. Uncle had explained that he wanted his condition kept secret and that he doubted there was a Chinese doctor in Hong Kong he could trust. Besides, Parker was young, progressive, and almost brutally honest. Uncle had come to admire that candour, since it removed any doubt about his situation and helped him prepare for what had to be.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Not well.”
“Where is he?”
“I had them take him upstairs to a ward. There isn’t anything they can do for him here.”
“How about in R Block?”
“We’re past the time for R Block.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Off and on.”
“Can I see him?”
He looked at Sonny. “Only one of you at a time.”
She felt tightness in her chest and then a sharp pain in her stomach. “Is this the end?” she asked.
“No . . . not tonight. But we still need to get him stable. Then he can go home again, at least for a little while. But Ms. Lee, he has to stop eating and drinking the way he just did. It will not only shorten whatever life expectancy he has, it will cause him considerable pain.”
“I will tell him.”
“Please — he doesn’t seem to listen to me.”
And I don’t expect he’ll listen to me either, Ava thought. “Can I see him now?” she said.
“Of course. I’ll come with you,” Parker said.
They rode the elevator to the fifth floor, Sonny accompanying them. The hospital was eerily quiet, and the sound made by Ava’s heels reverberated loudly throughout the hall. They checked in at the nursing station and then followed the on-duty nurse down the hallway to Uncle’s room. There were two chairs outside the door. Parker motioned to Sonny to take a seat.
“Sonny, we’ll take turns sitting with him,” Ava said.
Parker opened the door and then stood aside to let Ava go past. Uncle lay on his back on the bed, washed by the dim glow of the equipment they had him hooked up to. The light draped over him reminded her of a shroud.
“He looks so small,” she said.
“He is,” Parker said.
“Being with him every day, I never noticed just how small he’s become . . . He looks like a child.”
Parker, standing behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, and then pulled a chair towards the bed. “You can sit here with him.”
“Thank you,” Ava said and sat.
Parker hovered.
“Is there anything else?” she asked.
“Ms. Lee, Mr. Chow is an extraordinary man. Not many people exhibit his bravery. And not the physical kind, mind you, but the emotional courage. He was unflinching in terms of his desire to know the truth about his disease and his prospects. I have tremendous respect for him. So, please, just tell him to take better care. He doesn’t have much time left. He needs to preserve it.”
“The respect is mutual. He’s thankful for everything you’ve done for him.”
Parker hesitated, his discomfort obvious. “I wanted you to know how I felt.”
Ava nodded. Parker smiled at her and then left the room.
She turned towards Uncle, her eyes fixed on his face. Under the bright lights, his skin had been so pale, so translucent she could see the veins that tracked across his cheeks and around his chin. Now, in the dusk-like atmosphere, it was smooth and unwrinkled. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing so lightly that she could barely hear him. Whatever trauma his body was undergoing, his face didn’t reflect it. It was composed and relaxed.
Ava placed a hand on his and then rested her head on the bed. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, and she couldn’t remember if she had fallen asleep when she felt Uncle gently pry his hand loose from hers and rest it on her head. She looked up at him and saw him smile as he lightly stroked her hair. Tears leapt into her eyes.
“No,” he said.
Ava placed her head back on the bed, Uncle’s hand still resting on it, as light as air.
“The doctor says you’re going to be okay. He thinks you might be able to go home tomorrow,” she said.
“I do not know how many more times I will be able to hear that.”
“More times than you can imagine, if you look after yourself better.”
“I do not put much value in buying a day here and there,” he said.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Ava, I have been so lucky. I tell myself that I never thought I would live to be this age, and I tell myself that I never thought I would die in a bed,” he said, his voice quiet but controlled.
“But here you are, so don’t make too much of what was.”
“There were times . . .” he said, the words trailing off.
Ava, struggling to hear, lifted her head so she could see his lips.
“The worst time was when we swam from China.”
“You’ve never told me about that in any detail.”
“I thought I had,” he said, and then paused, gathering his thoughts. “We were starving in Wuhan — that goddamn Cultural Revolution — but I was young, and with some other young men I decided to try to get to Hong Kong. We made it to the coast, gathered whatever strength we had left, and got into the water.
“There were twelve of us when we started. We had made a raft that could hold three. So we took turns on the raft, the others swimming alongside or clinging to it and pushing it along. We swam all night. The water was so dark and so cold. I have never been so frightened . . . About halfway, maybe four hours into the swim, we noticed we had lost someone. That was when I realized how dangerous and foolish we were being. But it was too late to turn back and we could not stop, so we just kept swimming. We lost three more men before we reached Hong Kong. For the last hour or two, I was convinced I was not going to make it. I was filled with complete despair. I was so young and I had done nothing with my life. I had no family. All I kept thinking was that if I died, no one would notice. That was the most terrifying thing of all, that I would be swallowed up by the sea and not one person in the world would care. Nothing I have done since has scared me so much.”
Ava felt tears streaming down her face.
Uncle turned away. “I do not like to see you cry.”
“I’m sorry.”
He went silent and Ava wondered if he’d fallen back to sleep. Then he said, “The funeral arrangements. . .”
“It isn’t time to go over that again. When you’re at home, we can. I know you want things to be simple. No public announcement. No elaborate ceremonies. Just a short viewing at the funeral home.”
“This is something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to arrange to have some monks at my gravesite in Fanling. They do not have to be at the funeral home, but I want them at the grave. There should be five of them. Uncle Fong can help you contact the right person.”
She must have looked surprised, because he added, “I am not getting religious. I want Taoist monks because that was my parents’ way, and I feel I need to honour the tradition. If nothing else, it may bring me closer to my ancestors.”
“Uncle, I’m sure you can tell Uncle Fong yourself, when you see him tomorrow.”
He closed his eyes and she wondered if the
effort of speaking had drained him. Then he said, “I spoke to him about you a few days ago. He still knows a lot of the old contacts, and I told him if you ever need help that he is to act as if he were me.”
“Uncle, I’m not going back into our old type of business. I won’t need those contacts.”
His opened his eyes. “May Ling Wong has guanxi, I know, but there will be times when you may need other kinds of help. Between Sonny and Uncle Fong, they can get you everything you need.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Good. I do not want to have to worry about you.”
“You don’t need to worry.”
He closed his eyes. “My beautiful girl . . . Now, where is Sonny?”
“He’s outside.”
“I need to talk to him for a moment.”
“I’ll get him.”
Sonny had vacated his chair and was now pacing back and forth in the corridor. “Uncle wants to see you,” Ava said.
He came over to her. “He’s speaking?”
“Yes. Doctor Parker says he can probably go home tomorrow, but we need to keep him away from food and drink like he had tonight.”
He nodded and then brushed past her into the room. Ava sat in a chair, pressed her head against the wall, and extended her legs. It didn’t seem real, any of it. She knew he was ill. She had listened to Dr. Parker and had taken every word he spoke as the truth. Still, Uncle was alive and, as always, worried for her. How could that not continue?
She looked at her watch. It was just past two o’clock. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again it was ten past three and Sonny was standing over her.
“He wants to see you again,” he said.
Uncle’s face was turned towards the door when she entered. He tried to smile. “I just promised Sonny that I would go back on my congee diet.”
“That will make everyone happy.”
“I have another motive.”
Ava sat by the bed, reaching for his hand. “Do I want to hear what it is?”
“I have to go to Shanghai,” he said, with more energy in his voice.
“Shanghai?”
