Mambo in Chinatown

by Jean Kwok

  “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” said Uncle Henry to Lisa.

  She didn’t meet his eyes. “I want to go now.”

  “She’s going to have to come back,” Uncle Henry said. “I’ll make the appointments with your pa.”

  —

  The next week, I thought up an exercise program for Lisa. I would start by getting her to stand for a few minutes to strengthen her legs, and before we knew it, she would be back to her old self again. At the beginning, she had only lost control over her legs for short, discrete periods, but now it seemed they were just weakening in general. The school nurse checked her again but didn’t find anything unusual. Lisa needed the cane most of the time these days, but still Pa asked me not to accompany her to her second session with Uncle Henry on Saturday. He’d heard I’d been difficult the first time.

  When Lisa returned from the session, the skin on her face lay pale and worn, like the surface of an empty plastic bag. She looked thin and hunched over. The weather was finally warm—spring had arrived—and she was wearing a long skirt.

  “Let me see.” I flipped her skirt up over her bare legs.

  Lisa leapt back in her chair. “Don’t touch me!”

  I held up my hands. I’d never seen Lisa react like this. “I only want to make sure they didn’t scar you.”

  “They didn’t,” she said bitterly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Get away from me.”

  Lisa was just upset after her session. I would have been too. I wished we didn’t have to do this now but the weekends were the only time we had together. I placed an aluminum walker that I’d borrowed from Godmother Yuan in front of Lisa’s chair. Godmother still had it from when she needed one after her fall last year.

  “Are you sure about this?” Pa looked worried.

  “It’s good for kids to exercise, right?”

  He didn’t seem convinced but he didn’t say anything else.

  I placed Lisa’s small hands on the bars of the walker. We hauled her upright so that she was standing. I timed it with a stopwatch in my left hand.

  Almost immediately, Pa said to Lisa, “Are you tired? Do you want to sit?”

  Lisa looked straight ahead, swaying slightly on her skinny legs.

  I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Pa!”

  He ignored me, only focusing on Lisa. “I think she wants to sit.”

  “She’ll be all right a little longer,” I said.

  Lisa said, “Just because you think you’re the expert in everything these days doesn’t mean you’re always right, Charlie.”

  I bit back an angry retort. Finally, when Lisa got tired, she whimpered. Her legs began to buckle and we let her sit. I wrote down the date and time in a little pad.

  I started exercising Lisa every weekend.

  “You’re being too hard on her,” Pa would say to me. I felt as though I were holding both him and Lisa upright. There were days when she would resist us angrily, dragging her weight back into the chair and dropping her hands from the walker. Sometimes, it was as though she wasn’t present at all. I was always exhausted afterward.

  After two weeks, Lisa could stand for a longer amount of time. But her eyes were still hopeless.

  —

  “I want to take Lisa to a neurologist,” I said.

  Pa was outraged. He slammed his hand down on the rounded edge of the kitchen sink. “No, no,” he yelled, slapping with each “no.” “No! She’s just a child, leave her alone.”

  I tried to speak in a reasonable voice. “We have to find out what’s wrong, Pa.”

  “Uncle is helping her,” he said, turning his back to me. “He said she’s coming along well. She just needs a few more sessions.”

  “Pa, Uncle doesn’t see every—”

  He put his hands over his ears. “You’re trying to kill me.” He turned on both taps full blast and bent over the sink. The conversation was over.

  —

  “Just a little longer,” I said quietly.

  Lisa kept trying to sit down. Her face crumpled up like a little child’s and she began to cry, not even trying to hide it. She made small whimpering sobs and her cheeks glistened with tears.

  We let her sit down.

  “Oh dear heart.” Pa wiped her eyes with his white handkerchief. I couldn’t watch.

  That night, as I lay on my mattress, I felt Lisa’s anguish rip through me. It was as though each sob tore into the soft flesh on the inside of my chest. I longed for Ryan’s arms around me, to hold and comfort me. And then I turned away and I was crying, stifling my sobs so she wouldn’t hear.

  —

  A few days later, Ryan and I were in the small ballroom, practicing the overhead lift again. We were now able to get through it without someone spotting us. I’d done this lift easily with Julian, but Julian was in a class by himself. I had to run to Ryan and jump, then he held me by the hips and lifted me straight into the air while I arched backward. It was terrifying because I was so high, probably eight or nine feet up, in a position where I couldn’t do anything to save myself if he dropped me or I lost my balance.

  Today, for some reason, I glanced down in the middle of the lift. I could see the top of his tousled hair, the highlights gleaming in them, and then all was lost. I pitched forward and Ryan threw himself underneath me so that I wouldn’t get hurt when I landed. We wound up in an undignified heap on the floor.

  He lay there beneath me, unmoving. I was terrified he’d hit his head on his way down. “Ryan! Are you all right?” I felt his neck, trying to figure out where his pulse was. That was when I realized his eyes were open, and he was laughing silently. “What?”

  “That’s your idea of first aid? Strangling me?”

  I leapt off of him. “Very funny.”

  “You almost killed us both, and you’re mad at me.”

  “You’re right.” I reached out a hand to help him up. “I’m sorry. I just lost my concentration.”

  “I was watching you in the mirror. Why were you looking at my hair in the middle of our most dangerous lift? Do I have dandruff?”

  The truth popped out before I could stop myself. “You have these pretty bronze highlights.”

  His expression became this complicated blend of embarrassment, irritation and satisfaction. Then he said, “Let’s move onto the next part.”

  That was the body ripple. With his body covering mine, one arm wrapped around my stomach, my right hand in his left, my other arm behind his head, we undulated together before I twirled out into the whip turn. At the beginning, we had been out of sync, so that his chest was moving upward while mine was going down, and his hips were done before mine got started. But now we had it perfectly synchronized. We were supposed to look sexy during the move, which meant he bent down so I had my head against his jaw, my face partially turned to his, as if we were about to kiss.

  I tried to take the step into my turn but found I couldn’t move. Instead, Ryan tugged on my hand until I’d turned around and was wrapped in his arms. His eyes were closed and he was rubbing his cheek against mine as he bent me backward over his arm.

  “Would you still rather dance with Keith than with me?” he whispered against my ear.

  I felt hot, as if my veins were filled with wine. “Maybe not.”

  As he turned his head, I felt his breath fall upon my lips, and I forced myself to say, “We can’t.”

  “It’s all right, I’m faking my desire,” he murmured.

  I smiled despite myself. Then he kissed me. His taste, his smell, I’d waited so long for this. I lost myself in that kiss, my hands entwining in his hair before I remembered where we were, and what would happen if someone walked in on us. And Fiona, and Pa. Ryan was just reacting to touching my body, while I was in danger of losing my heart and soul. I drew back, my lips throbbing.

  H
e cupped his hand to the nape of my neck. “I’m not sorry I kissed you.” He bent in to kiss me one more time and I let him before I pushed gently against his chest. Slowly, he pulled back and let me up. He held my face with his hand and let his finger brush against my jaw. I felt his hand tremble. Then he dropped it and turned away.

  I busied myself collecting our CD from the stereo. “Lesson over.” My voice was hoarse. The door quietly opened and shut, and then he was gone.

  —

  Ryan canceled all the rest of our lessons that week. I didn’t know what it meant or what to do. Was he ever going to come back? What would I do if he didn’t? Walking in the park in the June sunshine with Nina a few days later, I spotted a gardener tending the flowers and my heartache must have shown on my face.

  Nina said, “Are you all right?”

  I ran my hand through my hair, then told her about Ryan and the kiss.

  “I knew it.” She was speaking quickly, frightened for me. “If you get involved with him, not only will they fire you but no other studio in New York will touch you. You’ll be blacklisted. No one wants a pro who sleeps with the students. It’s bad for business.”

  I pressed my lips together and shivered despite the sunlight on my face. “I don’t want to go back to my old life. If Ryan leaves, I don’t have a partner, and if I get involved with him, I won’t have a job. I have nothing.” I felt the dread deep in my stomach.

  “No, you’ll always own something that no one can take away. Even if you were faced with losing your job, you’d keep the knowledge in your body, your passion for movement, your understanding of its power. That’s yours.”

  I kicked at the dirt on the ground. “I’m so confused.” She was talking about career and love of dance, and I shared that, but mostly all I could think about now was Ryan. “Sometimes I think he cares about me a little. But it’d be such a shock to my father, I’d feel so guilty about dating a non-Chinese guy. And the worst thing is, he’s got a girlfriend . . .” My voice trailed off.

  Nina turned her face away.

  “I know it’s bad.”

  “Yes, it is. Charlie, you shouldn’t even be thinking about him in that way. He’s a student. I’m so sorry, honey, but it doesn’t matter about him and the girlfriend. He’s bad for you. You remember what happened to Estella. I heard they’ve broken up by now. You have such a bright future ahead of you as a dancer and a teacher. Go find yourself a nice professional man to play with. Listen to Doctor Nina here. Get this student out of your system.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I’m finished with him as soon as the competition is done. I’ll turn him over to another teacher.”

  —

  After my talk with Nina, I was resolved to break things off with Ryan. I didn’t want to call Ryan from the studio, just in case we got into personal territory. I copied down his mobile number from his file and then waited until the next day, Saturday, to phone him. I wanted some privacy.

  It rang a few times and then his deep voice answered. “Ryan Collins.”

  “Ryan, it’s me.”

  He immediately knew who I was. His voice gentled. “Hi.”

  I made my tone very businesslike. “You didn’t come in last week. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  He coughed. “Umm. Yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of the flu.” Like I was born yesterday.

  “Feeling better now?”

  “Yeah.”

  I cut to the chase. “Are you going to bail on me and the competition?”

  There was a silence. “No. I’m in until then.”

  “Me too.” I forced myself to say it. “After that, it might be better for you to go to another teacher.”

  There was another pause, then his voice sounded strained. “I’ll be done with dancing by then. I’ll be ready for the wedding. That was the goal, wasn’t it?”

  My entire chest ached. “Okay, well . . . thank you for staying with me through the competition.”

  “Listen, should we just get the rest of our bargain over with? There’s a party uptown tonight.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “After what happened?”

  “I want to take you, all right? I missed seeing you this week.”

  Despite all of my resolutions, I felt myself soften. I kept my tone cool. “I promised, didn’t I? What do you require from me?”

  “Bring shoes you can dance in. And wear something sexy, will you?”

  Twenty

  I lied to Pa again and told him I would be going to a birthday party at a colleague’s house in Far Rockaway, which was hours away from Chinatown by subway. I said it’d last until late. I wondered if this dynamic of our relationship would ever change or if I would be deceiving him until I was old and he was gone.

  As I knew he would, Pa said, “But it’ll take you so long to get home.”

  “Don’t worry, Pa, I’ll be all right.”

  “No, I don’t want you coming back that late alone. Is your friend a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you stay at her house?” As he fell into my trap, I felt the guilt rush over me.

  “Probably, I’ll call her and see.”

  He was relieved when I told him that I would be allowed to stay over at my fictional female friend’s house. I could then sneak in after he was asleep and say that I’d returned much earlier. Otherwise he’d wait up for me. Lisa knew me well enough to understand I was lying but she didn’t say anything.

  I tried to decide what to wear. Although Adrienne’s cast-offs had greatly helped my dance wardrobe, I hadn’t bought much new clothing for wearing outside of the studio. And as Pa and Lisa were home, watching our little television, I had to look like my old self when I left. In the end, there was nothing for me to do but wear Adrienne’s clothes underneath and my old clothing on top, even though it was already mid-June and quite hot.

  I snuck into the bathroom and put on a miniskirt and a tight gold cropped top, daring for me since it bared my stomach. Over that, I threw on a long flowered dress of Aunt Monica’s. The only shoes I could really walk in were my clunky dishwasher shoes. I peeked out and Pa and Lisa both still seemed to be staring at the television, although I didn’t think they were really watching it. I didn’t want to risk wearing too much makeup in front of Pa, so I put on just a minimal amount before slipping out.

  Outside, I hurried past the Canal Street jewelry stores, their displays glittering with pure gold, which Chinese believed warded off evil. Though it was evening, the streets were still packed. Our plan was to meet at the subway station, but my heart skipped a beat when I saw Ryan leaning against the pole, silhouetted against the setting sun. He was in my neighborhood. It was as if he could be a part of my real life.

  I approached him and his face lit up. “Charlie, you look beautiful.” He’d never said anything like this to me before.

  I had to laugh. “Are you serious? You asked me to wear something sexy and I have this on.” I gestured at my long dress and dishwasher shoes.

  He shrugged. “I guess it feels like a long time since I last saw you.”

  I fiddled with the handle of my bag. Should I mention our kiss? It probably wasn’t even a big deal to him. “Are we okay?”

  “No, I’m not, anyway. What about you?”

  I raised my eyes to his. “How’s Fiona?”

  “Charlie, I’ve known her forever . . .”

  “It’s fine, I understand.” I bit my lip.

  “And what about Julian?”

  “That’s hardly comparable.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “He’s an open door. All you need to do is walk through it. And you feel something for him too. I can see it when you dance together. I hate to say it but he’d be right for you in all the ways I’m not.”

  Now he was trying to set me up with Julian. How much could my heart hurt? I looked away
. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “You can get fired just for seeing me tonight. I don’t know, I’m so confused.” He hugged me from behind and then, so lightly that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it or not, he kissed my hair.

  I closed my eyes and gathered myself, then turned around. “No more of that.”

  He backed away, holding his hands up. “All right. Friends?”

  Slowly I nodded.

  —

  It was a long ride all the way uptown. Ryan was leaning back next to me with his eyes closed, the curve of his neck and jaw revealed above his T-shirt. How strange to be sitting there with him, not rehearsing. It was hard to be heard above the noise of the subway. “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “Some friend of Felipe’s is giving a party. A whole bunch of people will be there.”

  “Are they your friends too?”

  “Nah. You might meet some of the kids I coach, see some street dancing too.”

  I was excited for this, even apart from being with Ryan. I’d never been to this part of the city, but even more, I’d never been to a party where the social capital was dance. I wondered what Mo Li would think—to her, it’d be an investigation, an exercise in self-broadening. I just couldn’t wait for the music, and the space and freedom to move. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I tucked my arm underneath his and leaned my head against his shoulder. The subway rocked us back and forth. He felt so comfortable, his body familiar. His arm was covered in downy hair, his shirt soft against my cheek. “Ryan?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “I wish you were a girl.”

  I shut my eyes and didn’t hear his answer. The next thing I knew, he was telling me that it was time to get off the train.

  —

  But then, as soon as we emerged from the subway station, my happy excitement drained away. The sidewalk was dark, lit only by street lamps, and in front of me, a pyramid of black garbage bags was stacked high next to a bus stop. We headed up a street that was deserted except for a few homeless people who were talking to themselves, huddled against the buildings.

  “Do me a favor and take my arm, will you?” Ryan said.