The Tiger Mom's Tale

by Lyn Liao Butler

  Hsu-Ling put her hands to her cheeks, which were flushed red from the beer she’d drunk. “He didn’t change his will.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “The lawyer told me he’d always included Lexa in the will. Mama’s out of her mind.”

  Their uncle nodded. “I know. None of us believe her. I’ve had many conversations with Jing Tao, especially recently, about ChiChi. It weighed heavy on his mind that he had allowed her to walk away all those years ago without putting up a fight.”

  Lexa spoke up. “Then why didn’t Baba try to make things right with me?”

  Her uncle answered before Hsu-Ling could. “Your baba tried. When you first went home, he called often, wanting to work it out. But your mother wouldn’t let him speak to you at first. And then she said you didn’t want to talk to him. Over the years, he eventually thought it was better to leave you alone. You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him beyond the occasional emails.”

  Lexa felt her face flush with heat. “It was horrible, what happened. I wanted to forget it.” She sighed. “I guess it was my fault.”

  Her uncle held up a hand. “No. It wasn’t your fault. I just wish you’d had a chance to know him before he died. I speak for the whole family when I say we’re glad you came back. And not just because you saved our home.”

  “There’s one person who’s not happy I came back.” Lexa turned to Hsu-Ling, who was translating for Maddie. “Your mother looks like she wants me to drop dead.”

  Maddie caught Pin-Yen’s eyes. “Hey,” she called across the table. “I hear you’re trying to get everyone to contest the will. Well, you’re out of luck. The lawyer told us the will is solid.”

  Lexa laid a hand on Maddie’s arm. “Maddie, stop. Don’t provoke her.”

  Maddie turned to Lexa, her eyes blazing. “I’m not going to sit here and have her saying nasty things about you to your family.” At the look on Lexa’s face, Maddie’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. But I can’t let her get away with what she’s doing to you.”

  “Let it go, Maddie. She’s never going to change her mind about me.”

  But Maddie turned back to Pin-Yen. “Lexa owns the building you live in. She saved the family and that building, and from where I’m sitting, it looks like everyone is grateful. Except you.” Maddie paused and looked around the table. Most everyone who could understand English had stopped talking, looking back and forth between Maddie and Pin-Yen. “You should be groveling at Lexa’s feet that she allowed you to stay. I heard everyone else wanted to boot you out on your ass, but Lexa said no.”

  Pin-Yen stood with a sharp scrape of her chair. Without a word, she stormed out.

  “Oh, geez.” Hsu-Ling rolled her eyes. “Not again, Maddie.” Their uncle stood and gave both Hsu-Ling and Lexa a pat on the shoulder before returning to his seat.

  “I just said what everyone else here is thinking.” Maddie raised her eyebrows at Hsu-Ling.

  “Stop poking at her,” Lexa said. “She already lost. Do you have to keep rubbing her face in it? You’re just making her angrier.”

  “Well, she’s making me angry at the way she’s treating you.” Maddie pushed away her bowl.

  Lexa’s shoulders slumped forward. “I don’t understand why she hates me so much. I should just go home. Stop causing trouble for your family.”

  “What?” Maddie looked at Lexa, her face screwed up with indignation. “Don’t let her drive you away. This is your family too. You’re not that fourteen-year-old girl anymore.”

  Hsu-Ling put a hand on Lexa’s arm. “Maddie’s right. Don’t leave because of her. I’ll stand by you.”

  The waitresses began clearing away the dishes. “Are we done here?” Maddie asked.

  “Almost. They’re serving a dessert soup, with red beans.” Hsu-Ling gestured to the large bowl a waitress was setting on the lazy Susan. “We don’t have to stay. Most of them will linger for another hour or so, drinking and catching up.”

  Lexa pushed away from the table. “I can’t eat another bite. I want to save room for the FengJia Night Market later.”

  “Where’s that again?” Maddie asked. She pulled up the map of Taichung on her phone.

  Lexa pointed. “It’s to the north and west of where we are now.”

  “Is that all you do here? Eat?” Maddie asked.

  “Pretty much.” Hsu-Ling laughed. “Taiwanese people love to eat.”

  They said good-bye to the relatives and headed back to the apartment. On the way, they passed open food stalls lining both sides of the street. “These used to be food carts,” Hsu-Ling explained. “Now most of them are part of the building and branch out onto the sidewalk with no door. Except when it’s really hot; then they close it off for the air-conditioning.”

  “It’s good to be back.” Lexa looked at the busy street full of scooters and cars, and the sidewalks crowded from where stores and food stalls spilled out. They were forced to dodge around racks of clothing, shoes and accessories, or rickety tables and stools where people huddled over bowls of noodle soup or oyster omelets. “I’ve missed this.”

  “Then don’t let my mother drive you away.” Hsu-Ling and Lexa exchanged a look.

  “You’re right. I won’t,” Lexa said. “I am glad to be back.”

  “I wish you were staying longer.”

  “I’m here for eight days. I think that’s long enough to be away from my clients.”

  “All you think about are your clients.” Maddie shot Lexa a disdainful look.

  “I do not.”

  “Hey, look. Sesame balls. Your favorite.” Maddie pointed at the window of a bakery.

  “That’s right,” Hsu-Ling said. “You loved them from the first time Baba bought you one. Let’s get some.” And Hsu-Ling rushed into the bakery before Lexa could stop her.

  Hsu-Ling had already ordered three sesame balls by the time Lexa caught up with her. “Um . . .” Lexa started to tell her she didn’t like them anymore but then stopped. She didn’t believe in bad luck and ghosts. She couldn’t let her superstition ruin one of her fondest memories of her father.

  “Thanks,” she said when Hsu-Ling handed her one. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes, enjoying the chewy texture and the memories the treat brought back to her. She just hoped she didn’t get run over by a bus or something once she finished the sesame ball.

  “You still want to go furniture shopping tomorrow after we go visit Baba’s ashes?” Hsu-Ling’s voice broke into Lexa’s thought. She’d taken them to see Lexa’s new apartment that morning. It was a one-bedroom and bigger than Lexa’s apartment in New York City.

  “Yes.”

  “I wish someone would leave me an apartment.” Maddie stopped to let a toddling little boy cross in front of her. “That was actually a pretty nice thing Pong did.”

  Lexa snorted. “Yeah.”

  “You know, it’s so strange that he just happened to die on the same day as your father,” Maddie said. “I mean, I know he was sick, and you said he suffered a stroke after he told your father, but still. It’s almost like he died of a broken heart or something.”

  Lexa watched as the color drained from Hsu-Ling’s face. “What’s the matter?”

  Hsu-Ling paused in front of a 7-Eleven and leaned against the wall.

  “Hsu-Ling?” Even Maddie looked concerned.

  “Give me a minute.” They stood, a silent circle of three as life bubbled on around them.

  “Do you think Pong died of a broken heart?” Maddie spoke up first.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Lexa tilted her head.

  “Because I told Uncle Pong it was his fault.” Hsu-Ling squeezed her eyes shut. “I told him he killed Baba.”

  47

  Three Months Ago

  Taichung, Taiwan

  The ambulance carrying her father’
s body was ready to pull away. Hsu-Ling sank down onto the curb of the road, her legs too weak to hold her up.

  “Ride back with us.” Kuan-Yu, one of the paramedics, stood in front of her. Her father was one of them, having worked at the hospital for over thirty years. Kuan-Yu was the one who told her Uncle Pong had suffered a stroke when her father had run out of the hospital.

  “No.” She shook her head. She couldn’t get into the back of that ambulance with her father’s body. She refused to believe he was gone. He couldn’t be. Not her baba. He was supposed to give her a ride home on his scooter after visiting Pong. They were going to take Mama to her favorite soup dumpling place tonight, for xiao long bao and noodle soup. He wasn’t supposed to be lying so still and broken and so dead in the back of that ambulance.

  “We can’t just leave you here.” Kuan-Yu took her by the elbow and tried to pull her up.

  “No!” she screamed. “I can’t.”

  He dropped his hand and stared at her as if she were a feral animal. She couldn’t control her breathing, which was coming in loud, jagged breaths.

  “Hsu-Ling, breathe. I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” she gasped. “Don’t say that. If you say it, it means he’s gone.”

  Kuan-Yu gave her an uncertain look. She knew what he was thinking. He thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. Kuan-Yu put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hsu-Ling. Please. Your baba wouldn’t want us to leave you here. Please come . . .”

  She looked away from him, from the sympathy shining in his eyes. She couldn’t take it and looked at the scene of the accident instead. Her heart clenched as she stared at the mangled mess that was her father’s scooter and the car he’d crashed into. The driver of the car had been unharmed, minus a few cuts and bruises, and was near hysterical. She’d kept repeating, “I didn’t see him. I didn’t see him. He came out of nowhere.” Hsu-Ling had been relieved when they’d taken her away in another ambulance.

  “Just go,” she said. “I’ll walk back.”

  He was reluctant to leave. He lingered, hovering over her, making her want to scream and yell. His colleague stepped forward. “We have to go.”

  Kuan-Yun looked at Hsu-Ling. “Are you sure?”

  “I need to be alone. I’ll walk back.”

  With one last lingering look, they left. She sat on the curb for a few more minutes, gathering the strength to stand. Why hadn’t she gotten into the ambulance? She could have sat in the front. She didn’t know if she’d make it back to the hospital with the way her body was shaking.

  How was she going to tell her mama? Tell her that Baba, the light of both their lives, was dead? Dead because of what Pong had told him? Hsu-Ling sobbed, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders hunched as she huddled on the curb. Someone touched her on the back, but she shook the hand off so violently they withdrew immediately. No one else approached her.

  Pong. He was responsible for all this sadness. Baba was dead because whatever Pong had said to him had upset him so much that he’d run out and gone the wrong way and died.

  A sudden ball of anger gathered in Hsu-Ling’s chest, and she stopped shaking. She stood, the fury taking over her body and giving her a strength she didn’t know she had. Turning toward the hospital, she started running, her gait unsteady because she didn’t have her running leg on. But her pace was fast when moments before, she’d thought she couldn’t possibly make it to the hospital. She didn’t need her running leg. She used her whole body to will her prosthetic leg forward, and each time it hit the pavement, Pong’s name echoed in her mind and her fury grew. Step, Pong, step, Pong, step, Pong. It became a chant, and she ran faster and faster back to the hospital.

  By the time she made it to the ICU, sweat was pouring down her back, making her shirt stick to her skin. An ICU nurse saw her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your father.” Her eyes flashed sympathy, but then she rushed toward a patient whose husband was calling out to her. The ICU was busy, a hub of disease and serious injuries, where people hung on the cusp between living and dying. Nurses and doctors rushed around, issuing orders and asking questions, some not related to their patients; machines beeped and droned, and alarms went off with increasing frequency. No one noticed when Hsu-Ling slipped into the room where Pong lay sleeping.

  She stood at his bedside, watching him, the fire burning in her chest taking over her entire body. She needed someone to blame for her father’s death, and she directed all her anger at this man whom she’d loved as an uncle, who’d been a part of her life for as long as she could remember.

  As if sensing her presence, his eyes fluttered open. There was a moment of confusion, but they cleared when they focused on Hsu-Ling. She could see the question in his eyes. Where is Jing Tao?

  “He’s gone, Uncle Pong.” Hsu-Ling didn’t recognize her own voice. “You killed him. Whatever you said made him so upset, he ran out of the hospital and crashed his scooter into a car. He’s gone, and it’s your fault.”

  Pong’s eyes widened, and though he couldn’t speak because of the breathing tube, she understood the questions he was shooting at her. Tears dripped down her face, and before she could say another word, Pong let out a terrible sound, like the moan of an animal in great pain. His eyes rolled back in his head, and Hsu-Ling slowly backed out of his room. She turned and walked toward the entrance to the ICU, melting into the chaos as alarms went off in Pong’s room and staff responded by running toward him. She kept walking, never once turning around to see what she’d done.

  48

  Lexa traced the small plaque bearing her father’s name with her fingers. She was in the pagoda-shaped columbarium on the grounds of the temple where her father’s ashes were kept. Hsu-Ling had tried to explain the complicated funeral rituals in Taiwan to her and Maddie. The family had consulted with a geomancer to find a good day for burial, which would be months after the passing. In the meantime, his ashes were stored in this pagoda, inside what looked very much like small metal lockers found at a train or bus station. Lexa couldn’t get over how many compartments there were stacked on top of one another, spanning all the way to the ceiling and all around the room, each labeled with a number and a name if the family had decided on a plaque.

  They’d brought offerings, and Lexa had laid them before the gods and goddesses who protected the souls of the deceased outside the pagoda. Now she stood inside on the yellow tiles and bowed her head. She felt more connected to him there than she had at his final prayer ceremony the day before. Her sisters stood slightly behind her, giving her space.

  Clasping her hands together, Lexa thought of all the things she’d wanted to say to her father. She’d stored them in her head over the years, waiting for that moment when they’d finally see each other again. She’d dreamed about this moment so many times, of finally coming back to Taiwan and confronting him. But she never dreamed she’d be doing so to his ashes. She’d blamed their estrangement on him, but the truth was she had as much to do with it as he did. As her uncle had pointed out the day before, her father had reached out to her, especially in the early years, but Lexa had rebuked him.

  Her eyes downcast, she brought up an image of him in her mind, as he was the last time she had seen him in person. She began to speak.

  “Baba, it’s me, Chi. I’ve finally come back to Taiwan. I wish the reason I’m back wasn’t because you’re dead. All these years, I dreamed about the day when I’d finally hear you tell me you believe me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and dropped her voice to a whisper, not loud enough for Hsu-Ling and Maddie to hear but, she hoped, loud enough for her father’s soul to hear.

  “Baba, Hsu-Ling thinks she killed Pong. Help her to see that Pong was basically on his deathbed. She didn’t cause his death.” Although there was a part of her, one she wouldn’t admit to out loud and certainly not to Hsu-Ling, that wondered if Hsu-Ling’s accusations had caus
ed Pong’s body to give out.

  Lexa paused, waiting to see if she’d feel anything, if she could sense her father’s spirit. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes and continued, this time speaking out loud. “I know I’m supposed to forgive you, Baba. But the truth is, I don’t know if I can.” Her fingers sought out his name again. “My head understands why you chose to believe Pong and your wife over me. But my heart can’t get past it.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “Shifu tells me peace is the most powerful weapon in the world. And I know I’ll never get any peace unless I let it go.” Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “I’m trying.”

  She paused for breath, and Maddie stepped forward, slipping her hand into Lexa’s. Hsu-Ling grabbed her other hand, and Lexa gave both a squeeze. “I miss you, Baba. I wish I could have heard you say you believed me before you passed away.”

  She fell silent and took her hands back from her sisters to bring them together in front of her heart. She bowed her head and felt Hsu-Ling step close on her one side. She didn’t have to turn her head to know Hsu-Ling was praying to their father too.

  A sudden wind blew through the pagoda, lifting Lexa’s hair away from her neck and swirling the light blue skirt she was wearing around her legs. She looked up when the scent of sandalwood, a smell that always made her think of her father, filled her nose. She expected to see the door open, bringing in the wind, and sandalwood incense sticks burning. But the door was closed, and no incense burned. Lexa stood still. A strange calm settled over her, like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

  Believe, a voice said in her mind. Believe in yourself. For a moment, she thought it was Shifu. But as the words repeated in her mind, she wondered if it was her father. She hadn’t really believed Ah-Ma when she said their father’s soul was stuck, unable to move on to the heavens with the gods because he had unresolved issues. But standing there in front of his ashes with the unexplained breeze lifting her hair and the smell of sandalwood teasing her nose, she believed. For one moment, she believed.