By September I’d still failed to conceive. We’d been trying diligently for nine months and were quickly approaching the one-year mark Dr. Levy had mentioned when I went to see her about fertility medicines the previous winter.
“It’s probably because of the stress about the move and finding a job in San Francisco,” I mused to Cai one Saturday. “Maybe we should stop trying until after we have jobs and health insurance.”
“That’s fine.” Cai spoke calmly and without the critical jibes about my fertility that he’d lobbed when we’d discussed it before. It was not only a pleasantly unexpected reaction, but it also felt like a heavy weight had been lifted. With all the work we had ahead of us for our move to San Francisco, I was relieved that Cai was okay with putting a temporary hold on trying to conceive. After all, it seemed like the logical thing to do. How would I find a job if I was halfway into a pregnancy?
Out of habit, I continued to use my basal thermometer every morning before I got out of bed, charting my temperature in a little blue booklet included in the thermometer box. On the day in October when the chart showed I’d be most fertile, I suggested we try one more time before putting everything on hold. The next day I woke up and went to work without thinking about our last attempt; I assumed it would fail just like the others.
A month later when I didn’t get my period, I also noticed that my clothes stretched tighter over my abdomen even though I had recently experienced a loss of appetite. My chances were slim, but I bought one more home pregnancy test and told Cai about it.
“Do you really think you’re pregnant?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.
“I doubt it, but I’ll try anyway. It’s probably just an irregular period that’s causing bloating. My doctor said to take it first thing in the morning, after I’ve gone hours without peeing, so I’ll use it as soon as I wake up tomorrow.”
At five the next morning, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and crept to the bathroom, the whirring of our bedroom air conditioner buzzing in the stillness of the dawn. I was reaching to retrieve the test from the sink vanity when I heard a knock on the door.
“Are you taking it now?” Cai said from the living room.
“Mmm-hmm.” I tore open the plastic wrap. “I’ll be out soon.”
After I finished, I placed the stick on the sink and washed my hands. When I opened the door, Cai hovered over me, rocking on his heels.
“What does it say?”
“I haven’t looked yet. It takes a couple minutes.” I turned to reach back into the bathroom and grab it from the sink. Looking down, my heart jumped when I saw a pink plus sign under the clear rectangular window. We were going to have a baby.
Cai gripped my hand. “What does it say?”
My lips pulsed and I fought back tears as I nodded.
“Are you?” Cai whispered.
I nodded again, but before I could answer, Cai screeched and swept me up in his arms, spinning around the small living room while he held me slightly off the ground.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much. Thank you.”
Just as I absorbed the fact that I was finally pregnant, my mind raced to what it meant for my predicament with Cai in Hidden River. For one, I would no longer feel so depressed or isolated there. Even if Mama and Baba protested, I would buy a small heater, and if Cai wanted to jaunt off to his friends’ homes for marathon card games, I stay warm at Mama and Baba’s with the baby, reading and eating what I liked.
And I imagined Mama would no longer concern herself with my eating habits; she would be too busy fussing over the baby. I would appreciate her help with child care when we visited Hidden River, but Cai and I would always keep our baby with us. As I thought about the rosy future, I knew that all my troubles had just been exorcized by a little pink plus.
• • •
As much as I wanted to tell everyone I knew, it seemed like a good idea to follow the Jewish custom of not announcing the news to anyone but our parents until I was out of my first trimester. Based on superstition, this tradition also made sense to me from a medical standpoint, as it was common for miscarriages to happen before the end of the first trimester.
“That sounds fine,” Cai said.
I hadn’t discussed Jewish or American pregnancy and child-rearing practices with Cai before now because I was too focused on just trying to get pregnant. Although not normally superstitious, I worried I might jinx our chances of conceiving if we planned too far ahead. Now I felt grateful that he so readily agreed to wait to share our good news with friends and colleagues.
As I showered and dressed, he cooked breakfast: a large pot of rice congee with red beans accompanied by a platter of sautéed choy sum, which is like a Chinese broccoli.
“You need to eat more now,” he said as he took another piece of choy sum in his chopsticks and set it in my rice bowl.
I left for work at seven o’clock, later than usual. It was still too early to phone Mama and Baba, so Cai waited another hour before calling his parents from our apartment. When I returned from work that evening, Cai greeted me at the door, embracing me for what seemed like minutes.
“I’m steaming a fish for dinner. It’s good for the health,” he said, once he had released his arms.
“What did your parents think of our news?” I knew that they’d be ecstatic but wanted to hear it from Cai.
“My mother cried. She is so happy. Baba, too. They’ve been waiting for this since they met you in Hidden River those years ago.”
Hugging Cai once more, I didn’t need to be reminded about that fearful interaction and the conversation with Mama about taking care of our future children in Hidden River. I could almost recall it word for word.
Shuddering at the memory, I reached for our one phone, which rested on a table next to the cheap foam couch our landlord provided.
Cai returned to the kitchen while I called my parents in Chicago. It was still early there, perhaps a little before they would normally wake up, but I didn’t want to miss them after they left for work. My mother answered on the second ring.
“Mom?”
“Susan? Is everything all right?” She sounded groggy but not half asleep.
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. Sorry to wake you up, but I wanted to catch you before I’d make you late to work. We have some big news.”
“Are you pregnant?” She suddenly sounded wide awake and cheerful.
I laughed. “How did you know?”
“What else could it be? You never call. I was wondering when we would get news like this.”
“We’ve been trying for a while,” I said warily. “I’m only five or six weeks, so can you not tell anyone for another two months?”
“Of course.” She paused. “That’s great timing. We’ll be out of school in early June and can come out to help you for the summer. I’m so glad you are moving to the United States.”
“We would love for you to help out.” I was still getting used to the idea of departing Hong Kong for good, a place I’d never intended to leave so soon. But I knew my mom was right when she said it was best we were moving to the United States. Even though I would have to look for employment in San Francisco while being visibly pregnant, it would be worth the stress.
My parents would be closer and could help out when they weren’t teaching. They could even drive to San Francisco for the summer. If we had stayed in Hong Kong, they probably wouldn’t have been able to visit more than once a year. The flights were long and exhausting, not to mention expensive. And now that I was pregnant, I felt the need to live closer to my parents, my family.
After my mom and I finished our call, I poked my head into the tiny kitchen and relayed to Cai the news about my parents wanting to stay with us for the summer.
“That’s wonderful.” He set his ladle on the counter and came out to hug me. “My parents can come help us with the baby
after your parents go back to Chicago.”
I stood up straight. “Would they want to come to the United States?”
Cai laughed. “Of course. It’s their duty as grandparents. They can stay for a year.”
“A year?” A whole year with Mama and Baba? Somehow I had a difficult time picturing them living with us in San Francisco for a year. I’d never stayed with them for more than six weeks at a time, and never outside Hidden River. Would I go crazy living in the same house with them for a year? I hoped Mama wouldn’t continue to harangue me over every little thing I ate. And I couldn’t imagine them getting around in a place where they wouldn’t be able to read the street signs.
On a practical level, it would be a luxury to have in-house child care. We could never afford to hire a nanny, so our baby would have to go to a day-care facility if Cai’s parents couldn’t get a U.S. visa. I tried to stay positive about a possible year with my in-laws. Everything would be all right as long as I didn’t bend on important issues, like our baby continuing to live with us after Mama and Baba returned to China.
Chapter 25
A Good Chinese Wife
Cai was turning into the perfect husband. He doted on me at the large Chinese banquets we attended through the Taoist temple where he worked on Sundays, making sure I ate enough and had plenty of nonpork dishes to choose from. I noticed he had stopped watching porn and instead consulted me on movie rental choices. During my weeks of morning sickness, he even suggested I take an expensive taxi ride to and from work. I was touched by that thought but felt fine riding the bus with its scenic route. I knew I would miss my relaxing commute once we left Hong Kong for San Francisco.
But before we moved to California, Cai had to leave Hong Kong for a few months once more. The territory’s immigration law forbade mainland students from remaining in Hong Kong to work after they graduated. Dr. Tsang’s funding had run out, and he could not afford to keep Cai on for another year. Cai would return to Hidden River while I finished out my work contract.
After a quick phone conversation with Ting-Ting one Saturday, Cai told me that his ex-wife and daughter would be in Hong Kong for a couple days the following month. But Cai wouldn’t be there; he would have already returned to China.
“Really? Why are they coming here?”
“Just stopping over after a tour in Thailand.”
“Thailand?” In the late 1990s, few mainlanders could travel outside China. Not only was it difficult to obtain visas, but the expenses could amount to a year’s salary or more. Everyone I knew from China who had flown abroad did so to study or to visit their children who were students in another country. I’d never heard of mainlanders traveling abroad just to sightsee.
“They’re going with a group of teachers from Wei Ling’s school.”
“Did they want to see you?”
“Wei Ling thought I could see Ting-Ting, but I told her I’d be back in China by then.”
“I can take them out to lunch.”
He froze. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Of course. She’s your daughter.” I would have preferred to meet her in Cai’s presence, so I could remain in the background. But I was fine meeting them alone. Their visit in January would be my only chance to meet Ting-Ting before we moved.
“What about Wei Ling? You’re comfortable meeting her?”
“I’ve got nothing to worry about, right?”
Cai swatted his hand as if he were brushing away a fly. “Wei Ling was a bad wife, but she’ll be kind to you. She’s been nice to me since our divorce.”
“It should be fine. I can even leave work early if they come during the week. Do you know what day they’ll be here?”
“I’m not sure, but I can call Wei Ling back now.” Cai embraced me tightly, rocking me slightly in his arms. “You’re the best wife.”
I closed my eyes briefly, smiling inside. “It’s nothing. She’s your daughter.”
“But you don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.” And I really did. I wanted to meet Ting-Ting. She was my stepdaughter, after all. And I also felt curious about the woman who had left Cai in Wuhan.
Cai called Wei Ling back and they settled on a time and date when I’d get together with her and Ting-Ting. His voice sounded cordial during this discussion, as if he were arranging a meeting at the Taoist temple between a visiting professor and the temple administrator. He often glanced at me and smiled. After ending the call, he turned to me.
“It’s all set. They’ll be waiting for you at noon three Thursdays from now. Wei Ling said they’ll be staying at the old Boundary Street police barracks just above Mong Kok. It’s now a guesthouse for mainland travelers.”
My mind started racing about where we could go for lunch. One place stood out. “There’s a new hotel near the Mong Kok train station. I’ve had their lunch buffet and it’s quite good. It would be nice to take them there.”
“Sounds great. They’ll be leaving for Zhūhâi late that afternoon. Thank you so much for doing this.”
“It’s fine. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Do you think it would be okay to give Ting-Ting five thousand Hong Kong dollars?”
That was about six hundred U.S. dollars. Living expenses in China had increased since Cai had paid his child support six years earlier, and I figured Wei Ling had spent the 10,000 yuan long ago.
“Of course. And I’ll buy her gifts like art supplies and maybe a purse. Something an eight-year-old would like.”
Cai hugged me again. “Thank you.”
As we embraced in the dusky afternoon, with the waters of Tolo Harbour rippling below, I pictured bonding with Ting-Ting. She’d tell me all about her school, her music and dance lessons, and her favorite books. She’d rattle on about the friends she’d made in Zhūhâi since joining her mother there. I’d ask what she liked best in Thailand and would tell her a little about the trip I took there when I was twenty. She’d be naturally drawn to me.
The next morning, I asked my boss for the afternoon off three Thursdays from then. When I told her the reason, she grinned and said I was a good Chinese wife.
Chapter 26
The Ex-Wife
The day I was to meet Wei Ling and Ting-Ting, I left work just as my coworkers were heading out for lunch. I rambled through mazelike streets toward the guesthouse where Wei Ling and Ting-Ting were staying. My heart pounded under my two layers of stretchy maternity clothes. While waiting for the light to change on Waterloo Road, I looked at my small baby bump. Would Wei Ling act coldly and selfishly toward me, as she’d treated Cai during their marriage? Would she resent me because I carried her ex-husband’s baby?
At the deserted Boundary Street Sports Ground, I found the former Hong Kong Police barracks. The second floor was empty except for an elderly man sitting at a wooden table inspecting a Chinese newspaper. He looked up from his paper when he heard my footsteps.
“Can I help you?” He spoke in fluent English with a distinguished Cantonese accent.
“I’m here to see a woman named Wei Ling.”
“Room one-oh-three, third on the left.” He pointed toward the hallway in front of us.
“Thank you very much.”
The short walk to Room 103 seemed endless. Would Wei Ling even talk to me? Would she begrudge me for marrying her ex-husband? My pulse quickened as I came to an open room with two metal bunk beds. A petite woman sat on the bottom mattress of one bed. I recognized her from Cai’s photos. Wei Ling peered up at me with dark almond eyes and smiled warmly. A sudden surge of calmness spread through me. She wasn’t mean-spirited or aloof.
“Susan. Come in.” Speaking English, Wei Ling sounded kind yet slightly reserved.
I returned her smile and entered the tiny room, squeezing between the two bunk beds, past her knees. On the lower bunk opposite Wei Ling sat a girl with two braided pigtails anc
hored by red puffballs, her face as round as a moon cake. Ting-Ting’s narrow eyes diligently focused on a picture in her coloring book. She looked like the older sister of the girl in the photos Cai had shown me from his first visit with Ting-Ting in Zhūhâi a couple years ago. Wei Ling stood and shook my hand. Turning toward Ting-Ting, she asked her daughter to greet me. Ting-Ting glanced up at me, expressionless, then returned to her coloring.
“Please sit.” Wei Ling spoke in English, gesturing to a space next to her. She looked over at my pregnant belly as I sat down. Cai had told Wei Ling we were expecting, but I wasn’t sure if Ting-Ting knew. She seemed mature enough to handle news about a new sibling, but I thought it best for Wei Ling to tell her.
“Ting-Ting, say hello to Miss Susan.” Wei Ling spoke to her daughter in Mandarin. If I were simply a friend or a visitor, Ting-Ting would call me aunt. But I was her stepmother, and a foreign one at that, so Wei Ling chose the generic xiaojiě, or miss, when she referred to me in front of Ting-Ting.
“Méi wèntí.” I assured Wei Ling it wasn’t a problem if Ting-Ting didn’t warm up to me right away. She barely knew her father, so she couldn’t be expected to take to me at once.
Wei Ling clearly preferred to speak in Mandarin because, after my simple remark, she never used English again that day.
“Ting-Ting?” I tried to rouse her from her drawing.
From the corner of her eye, she must have seen me extend a shopping bag toward her because she looked up and begrudgingly smiled before taking it. Ting-Ting reached in and pulled out three wrapped gifts. She tore the red and gold foil paper from the largest item, revealing a Hello Kitty art set: crayons, colored pencils, markers, oil pastels, a small pair of scissors, a lined spiral notebook, a blank notepad, and a pencil sharpener.
Good Chinese Wife Page 17
