Mambo in Chinatown

by Jean Kwok

  One man, overcome with emotion, gathered the Vision into his arms. “No one could have known he was sick but you. With that knowledge, you saved my boy. Thank you.”

  —

  I expected us to go to a temple, but instead the Vision led Todd and me to the live poultry store where Zan’s father worked. I never liked going in there. A large handwritten sign was plastered across the mirror: “We Slaughter Asian-Style Upon Request,” which meant they used a very thin cut across the neck of the bird so that it wouldn’t be broken. Chinese needed the head to be attached for religious rituals, otherwise they would go back and request a new bird. The front part of the store was sterile and clean like a regular butcher’s, with fowl body parts on beds of crushed ice.

  The shop was packed. Many people had been used to eating fresh meat in their home countries and they said it was much more delicious than what you could get in the supermarket. I knew it was hypocritical, since I ate meat, but I hated knowing a chicken had been slaughtered just for me.

  When we got to the front of the line, the Vision said to the girl behind the counter, “We want to choose.” I took a step back.

  The girl gave us a ticket and jerked her thumb toward the rear exit. I exchanged a look with Todd. I really didn’t want to go through there. He opened his mouth to say something to the witch but she had already started walking to the door.

  We entered a room filled with all types of living fowl stuffed into wooden cages, which were stacked on top of each other. As the Vision went to the chicken section, we passed the doorway that led to the killing room. I caught a glimpse of a man in a blood-stained apron fitting a headless bird into one of the open-ended cones built into the stainless-steel table. His colleague hosed away the crimson blood that poured out onto the floor. There was another large vat of steaming water that must have been used to remove the feathers. I didn’t see Zan’s father.

  I turned to the Vision. “Do you need to buy your dinner now? Can’t we do the ritual instead?”

  She laughed, exposing her gold canine tooth. Ignoring me, she turned to the man in charge. “That chicken, with the yellow feathers.”

  “Those are the tastiest,” the man said. He opened the cage door and reached in with his gloved hand. He grabbed one squawking chicken by the throat, keeping the rest from escaping with his other hand. “This one?”

  “Wait,” said Todd. “Mrs. Purity, do you remember what happened the last time you released chickens in the park?”

  I blinked, finally understanding what she intended to do with the bird.

  The little witch pursed her lips, considering. “I hate those policemen. No respect.” She said to the man, “I’m sorry. We won’t need the chicken after all.”

  The man let the chicken go and it fled to the back of the cage as he shut the door. He called, “Next!” and we left.

  I was relieved to leave that place but also sorry we hadn’t been able to save the chicken. I would have bought it myself to keep it alive, but where would I keep it? The Vision then took us to the fish store, with Todd still trailing us.

  “Only the liveliest ones,” she said to the fishmonger, indicating a tub filled with live crabs.

  “Always the best for you, Mrs. Purity,” he said. “You choose.”

  She selected eighteen live crabs, poking them with a stick to see how well they moved their pincers, which were bound with thick rubber bands. The fishmonger wrapped them up for her in paper, then tossed them in a plastic bag.

  “Hold this,” she said to Todd. He took the bag by its handles. It looked quite heavy and its contents writhed whenever he set it down.

  Then the witch took us through the street of funeral parlors, which most people avoided because they thought it was bad luck, made a sudden turn onto an alley and went up to what seemed like an illegal gambling salon. It was boarded shut. She knocked and a pair of eyes peeked through a slot that had been slid open.

  “Release of Life,” the witch said. “Wong family.” She must have had this arranged by Todd when I was gone.

  The eyes blinked and then disappeared. The slot slid closed. I looked down the street to see if any policemen were coming to bust us. It was as if we were trafficking in drugs. Of course, I realized, the Vision couldn’t get special religious supplies from the temples because those Buddhists shunned her, and she probably got a discount here. A few minutes later, the door cracked open and a hand covered with age spots thrust a filled shopping bag at us. The smell of incense escaped in a gust from the door. The witch handed it to Todd and we left.

  As we started heading west, I said to Todd, “How are you doing? Can I carry one of those for you?”

  “Oh no, thanks. I’m used to lugging stuff for her. How’s your new job?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  He shrugged. “You know, Chinatown. Small world.”

  We went through Tribeca, crossed over the highway, and finally I understood that the Vision was heading for one of the piers on the water. There were only a few pedestrians passing by and seagulls flew overhead, screeching. The Hudson River stretched out before us and the smell of salt was in the icy wind.

  Then the witch unpacked the second shopping bag she’d been given. She took out what looked like a plastic model of three sticks of incense in a metal holder, a bottle of rice wine and a paper plate, and set them all on the ground. She flipped a switch and the tips of the incense lit up, as if they were burning. It was battery operated.

  I raised my eyebrows. “This isn’t real. Are you sure it’ll work?”

  “The true gods don’t mind,” she said, shrugging. “It’s too cold to light anything. And the police will bother me again if I burn things in public.”

  She set the electric incense next to the rail, then pulled a red octagon with the Chinese character for our surname, “Wong,” written on it out of the shopping bag. She held out her hand to me.

  “What?”

  She just gestured impatiently with her hand.

  Todd said, “Please give her the photo.”

  I took it out of my bag and placed it in her palm, muttering, “She can’t talk because the ritual’s too demanding?”

  I thought I saw Todd hide a smile.

  The Vision tucked the picture in between the sticks of plastic incense, then circled the whole thing with rice wine. I hoped she wouldn’t electrocute herself or spray the photo with wine. She closed her eyes and began to invoke the gods. Todd and I also bowed to the photo and my surname. Silently, I asked the gods and spirits please to help Lisa. I wasn’t sure if I believed in the Vision or not, but I hoped she could help Lisa.

  Then she turned to the other shopping bag. She had me hold the paper plate while she extracted a crab. She slid the rubber bands off each pincer and placed it in the center of the paper plate. I pulled my fingers back in case it started moving as I gingerly balanced the plate from underneath. She took the plate from me, then called, “Gods, accept our release of life. Six for the entire Wong family. May the family be kept whole, may they live in safety.”

  She flipped the crab into the bay below. There was a small white splash as it hit the water.

  “When I have time, I take the train to upstate New York,” she said. “The water’s cleaner for them and you can let larger animals go there. But that costs a lot extra.”

  She did this to six of the crabs, one by one. They arched, pincers extended, twirling in the air, and descended into the swirling water below us.

  Then she started praying again. “Accept six for Lisa Wong. May the spirits that bother her be laid to rest.”

  Was that what was happening to Lisa? I wished I knew.

  She flipped another six crabs into the water and said in a ringing voice, “Spirits of heaven and earth, accept six for Charlie Wong, older daughter, about to embark on a new life. What one sister gains, shall the other lose. May balance be s
truck.”

  I started. How did she know about my new position as a dancer? She was a force to be reckoned with.

  The Vision released the final six crabs. She deliberately threw the last crab higher and one of the seagulls swept down and caught it neatly in its beak.

  I gasped. “Why did you do that? You didn’t have to kill it.”

  “That too is freedom,” she said. “That too is sacrifice. Yin, yang; no life without death.”

  “What did you mean by what one sister gains, the other shall lose? Are you talking about pounds?”

  Todd started to laugh then stopped himself by pretending he was coughing. She tossed the paper plate in the trash, and then she and Todd headed toward the train station. She didn’t answer my question. At the mouth of the station, the witch turned and I could see only the white of her left eye before she disappeared inside.

  —

  To my relief, Lisa started doing better after that ritual with the witch. She still had nightmares, but they came less frequently and she hadn’t wet her bed since it happened. I couldn’t get the Vision’s words about the two sisters out of my mind, even though I had no idea what they could mean. Lisa and I had less time to see each other nowadays because I came home so late and she left early for school. We were together in the mornings but Pa was there then, and I was afraid to reveal too much about my life if I spoke. I asked her to come to tai chi classes with me on Saturday but she wasn’t interested. Sometimes I wondered if she was avoiding me, since she spent lots of time at the library. I supposed she had a great deal of schoolwork. The truth was, I was so entranced by my new life at the studio that I sometimes walked around in a dream world of my own when I was at home.

  One evening, though, she woke up when I came in. “How was your day?”

  “Hard but wonderful.” I crossed over to her and kneeled down. I spoke in a low voice so as to not wake Pa. “I’m learning so much. I feel like the worst dancer in the world, but every day I’m becoming a tiny bit better.”

  “I wish I could see you dance. I bet you’re much better than you think you are.”

  I kissed her on her cheek. “How was your day?”

  I could see the light go out of her eyes again. “Fine.”

  “Anything special happen?”

  “Not really. Good night, Charlie.” She turned her back to me and the conversation was over.

  Thirteen

  I had developed a routine in order to hide my dancer life from Pa. In the mornings, I wore one of my old outfits. Then after he and Lisa had left, I changed into Adrienne’s clothes. She’d even given me different bras too. Although we weren’t exactly the same size, hers fit me much better than Aunt Monica’s had. There were longer skirts that clung to my legs until the knee, then loosened so I could move. I liked the darted dresses, cut on the bias so that they fell softly across my body without being tight, yet showed off the curves I had. I didn’t recognize all of the names on the labels but I could tell from the material and cut that they were expensive. Dance clothing was such a specialty market, nothing came cheap. I had hidden Adrienne’s clothing in the same sort of bags that held Aunt Monica’s cast-offs and knew Pa wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway unless he saw me wearing them.

  I changed and did my makeup as best I could after I had the apartment to myself. Then after work, I’d do the same thing in reverse. At the studio I changed back into my regular Aunt Monica clothing and my dishwasher shoes, and scrubbed off my makeup. The other dancers looked at me oddly sometimes when I did that, but no one said anything. They all put on different clothes as well, only not quite as dramatically as I did. Then I’d go back to my other life with Pa and Lisa.

  Although I was used to hiding parts of my life from Pa, I’d never done it for so long, about something that mattered to me so much. I wanted to tell him but then I was afraid he would forbid me to continue. What would I do then? Men on the street turned their heads these days when I walked by, even when I was wearing Aunt Monica’s clothing without any makeup. I supposed I carried myself differently now. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I was glad to be more attractive, of course, but in some ways I missed the old Charlie too, who could wear anything, go anywhere she wanted without being noticed. And although I didn’t miss the grimy work at the noodle restaurant, I missed being with Pa every day.

  But my love of dance was starting to consume me. Even at home, my head was often filled with everything I was learning at the dance studio. Whenever I was alone in the apartment, I went over dance figures I had learned. I piled up the furniture the way Ma had done for me years ago, yet making sure that I could push it quickly back into place should Pa come home unexpectedly. During the week, I often went to the studio in the mornings before it opened so I could practice by myself while the pros were training with their partners. I was changing, and I couldn’t stop it.

  —

  At the studio, my old student Evelyn came up to me while I was seated at one of the tables, studying the technical alignments for the steps. I’d seen her and Trevor learning all of the dances, preparing for their fancy wedding in July. They’d obviously decided to make ballroom dancing one of their hobbies as well.

  Evelyn was twisting her hands together, nervous. “Charlie, my brother Ryan is coming in tomorrow to take a lesson with you.”

  “Really?” My heart beat a bit faster. I realized I was excited to see him again.

  “Can I ask you for a favor? I’ve been watching you with your private students. You’re a great teacher, no matter what. But would you please just do your best to keep Ryan here in the lessons?”

  “Of course I will.” There was a question in my eyes.

  “I know, I sound like a freak. The thing is . . . may I sit down?”

  “Of course.” I gestured to a seat next to me.

  Evelyn sat down, then continued quietly, “It means a great deal to me to have Ryan do the father-daughter dance with me. Both of our parents are gone now. More than that, I want him to enjoy himself. I owe him a lot, he’s taken care of me my entire life. He thinks I’m just trying to impress everyone that I have money but it’s not that. The wedding’s a fresh start for me.”

  “Rituals are important.”

  “That’s it. So please be nice to him. He likes you and money is no object. We’re giving the lessons to him because he’d never take dance classes otherwise. If he’s willing to come every day, just haul his butt in here.”

  “I’ll do my best, Evelyn. You’re a good sister.”

  —

  When Ryan arrived, I was too flustered to notice him. I was in the reception area saying good-bye to a couple who had just finished a series of lessons with me. I’d been teaching private lessons for a couple of weeks now. The man was always neatly dressed in a suit, and as we shook hands to say good-bye, I felt a folded-up piece of paper in his palm. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I left it there and turned to go.

  “Oh, wait, Charlie,” he said, reaching for my hand again. “We really want to thank you for the fantastic lessons.”

  I felt the piece of paper in his hand again and finally understood he was trying to tip me. Now I remembered the man who had shaken the bouncer’s hand at Decadence—that must have been a tip too. I certainly needed the money, but it still made me feel strange. As a dishwasher, I’d never been given a tip, though I knew the waitresses needed to be tipped because they weren’t paid much otherwise. Taxi drivers were tipped. I didn’t know if dancers were. I wasn’t his servant, although I guess they’d paid for my time. In my confusion, I just left it in his palm again.

  He stared at the twenty-dollar bill still in his hand, befuddled.

  “I told you,” his girlfriend hissed. “I said it would be insulting to her.”

  “But everyone likes the money,” he said, as she steered him to the door.

  “I appreciate it,” I said, calling after
them. I didn’t want him to feel bad. The door shut behind them. “Really.” The skin on the back of my neck was on fire. I was so bad at being tactful.

  “Interesting.” It was a deep, amused voice, coming from one of the couches. Ryan. He must have been waiting for his lesson there and I hadn’t seen him in all of the excitement. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans.

  I said, “Can’t you tell I’m smooth? Not. Come on, your lesson’s about to begin.”

  He chuckled as he followed me.

  “So since you’re preparing for your sister’s wedding, do you want me to put together a choreographed number for the two of you?” It was easy to assemble little dances for couples. It was just combining a few steps that they knew and having them repeat them.

  “Absolutely not.”

  That was clear. I faced him. “Okay. Are you sure you want to be here?”

  His face gentled. “Evelyn’s a pain in the neck but she’s my sister.”

  I sighed, warming to him and thinking of Lisa. “I understand that.”

  The lesson tape began with a steady foxtrot. “Let’s see if you can still dance.”

  Ryan held out his hand to me. “Shall we?”

  I let him hold me in dance position. He started off with his right leg and kicked me in the shins.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  I reached out to slap him on the left thigh, the way I now did to all of the male students so they’d remember which leg was the left one. Before I knew it, he’d encircled my wrist with his hand, stopping me from moving.

  I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes.

  His lips quirked upward on one side. “I’m not used to allowing people to strike me, ma’am.”

  “You kicked me first. And it is the dance teacher’s right to make sure her students know left from right.”

  His fingers loosened and he sighed. “I knew I’d regret coming here. Go on. Do your worst.”

  I slapped him on the left thigh, hard. “The leg that hurts, that is your left leg.”