The Wondrous Woo

by Carrianne Leung

  I touched it delicately with my fingers.

  “Put it on,” Mouse said. He took the pendant from me and draped it over my head. I looked down at it, my eyes lightly misting over. “The longer you wear it, the greener it’ll get.”

  “I love it, Mouse.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then I jumped over to the closet where I had hidden his present. I took out a wrapped box. The paper was covered with floppy-eared puppies in red Santa hats. A giant green bow tied it all together. “Ta da!”

  “For me?”

  “Well, it being a gweilo holiday and all, if you don’t want it, I can always take it back,” I joked. He grabbed it from my hand and pulled it open at the taped seams so as to not rip the paper. It was a video of Return of the 5 Deadly Venoms, a cult classic that wasn’t easy to find. I had implored the shopkeeper at the video store to order it from Hong Kong for me several weeks ago. He had finally consented, after I offered him an extra twenty bucks for his troubles.

  “Woohoooooo!” Mouse yelled, his fists pumping the air. Then he picked me up and twirled me around, staggering a bit.

  “Thanks, lang lui,” he said, hugging me. Then he kissed me on the lips. His lips were warm velvet, cushioning my mouth like a pillow. “Hey. You’re the best,” he added, his arms still tight around my waist.

  “Thanks,” I smiled. I could have said other things like how I was in love with him. We could have let words make solid this sweet space between us. But we could not even look at each other in the eye, and instead we started swiping at each other until it became a full tickle fest and I was trapped under him, laughing until I thought I would puke. Then he kissed me again, and we found our way back to each other without all the words and the complications they brought.

  Later, I was glad we didn’t say it because I wasn’t sure what love meant anymore. Love was like a calm lake when all was well; it was nice to watch the sun catch ripples of water and send up flashes of extraordinary light. But if you broke the surface and went deep, it became this thick and murky thing.

  Chapter 30 ~

  Wen’s sifu had told her that a true warrior knows the difference between right and wrong, honour and disgrace, truth and lies. But Wen found it much harder to discern these things than it was to decide whether to use fire staff or the precious plum fists when facing an opponent who employed the tiger claw.

  IT WAS FOUR DAYS before the lunar New Year in 1990, and all day, I had mentally prepared myself. I had officially run out of time, and it had to be now or never. At work, half my mind was occupied with the conversations that awaited me. The other half tried to dig myself out of the anxiety and get some work done. I wanted the day to drag, for the minutes to turn into hours, but instead, they sped by and before I knew it, I was on the streetcar heading home along with the other grey winter faces of my fellow commuters. I looked from one tired body to another, wondering what they were going home to. The windows of the streetcar were awash with salt and dirt, making it impossible to look outside or for light to shine in. But at five p.m. in January, there was hardly any light in the sky left anyway. I left my house every morning in partial daylight and arrived home in partial darkness. I appreciated the metaphor.

  I had no appetite for dinner. I tried to talk myself into feeling calm, convincing myself that a one-year absence wasn’t a big deal, and that Sophia, Darwin, and Ma would not be angry with me. I imagined Sophia’s face when she picked up the phone — her elation at my voice. Maybe she would cry a little and tell me she had missed me.

  I realized, as I did all I could to delay the call, that I missed them. I missed Sophia’s wayward eye. I missed Darwin’s pranks. I missed Ma. Whoever she was, she was my mother, and I missed her. For most of the year apart, I had simmered in a stew of hate, resentment, and betrayal, but of course, that was childish. She had raised me; she was my Ma. There were no memories of Ba, or any of us, if there was no Ma.

  I pressed Sophia’s number in Montreal, willing myself not to hang up before someone answered.

  “Allo?” The person on the other end said softly.

  “Hello. May I speak to Sophia Woo, please?”

  “Sophie doesn’t live here anymore.” The woman sounded surprised.

  “Oh. I see. Do you know where I can reach her?” My heart, which had been beating too fast already, quickened.

  “She went back to Toronto. Who is calling, please?”

  “It’s … uh … I’m … her sister, Miramar,” I stammered, embarrassed that this woman would know that I had no clue where my sister was.

  “Miramar!” she gasped.

  “Yes.” I was really nervous.

  “They’ve been looking for you. Everywhere. Oh dear! You must call them. Please wait. I’ll get the number.” I heard high heels clacking against a hard surface. It grew distant and came back again.

  “They are in Toronto. It’s 503-4902. Do you have a pen? Are you writing this down?” Her voice was full of concern. Iris. That was her name. I remembered now. How much Sophia adored her.

  “Yes, thank you for your help.”

  “Please, Miramar. Whatever is happening with you, please call them,” she said.

  I replaced the receiver, but did not remove my hand from it. This was the number of our house in Scarborough. Why was Sophia not in Montreal? I picked up the phone again and dialled Darwin’s residence in London.

  “Hello?” A man answered sleepily after five rings. I suddenly realized it was two a.m. in London.

  “I’m so sorry to be calling so late. I wanted to speak to Darwin Woo, please. It’s his sister.”

  “Darwin? Darwin left us some months ago. Is everything all right?” I could tell he was wide awake now. He spoke with clipped deliberateness, reminding me of the voice that had narrated all the nature shows I used to watch as a kid.

  “Oh, no, nothing is wrong. I’m so sorry. Can you tell me where he is?”

  “He’s in Toronto, I presume. I really don’t know. I’m the headmaster here.”

  “Oh, yes, thanks. I remember now. Right. He’s in Toronto. I’m so sorry to have disturbed you. Thank you.” I hung up before he could say another word.

  Something was deeply wrong. I had prepared myself for a very specific range of scenarios, but I was not expecting this. I fingered the scrap of paper on which I had written my own home number. The sequence of numbers stared back at me, like a secret code.

  Mouse found me several hours later, still sitting on the floor with the paper in my hand.

  “Lang lui, what’re you doing? Meditating? Summoning the Eight Immortals? What’s up?” He ruffled my hair.

  “I called my sister.”

  He dropped to the ground beside me. “Wah. Heavy.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not there anymore. My brother’s not in London either. They’re home. In Scarborough.”

  “What’re you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know.” We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time.

  “I think I have to call them.” I glanced at my watch. It was already past midnight. “Will you stay here with me while I call?” I asked Mouse. He nodded.

  I punched in the numbers and waited while it rang. On the third ring, Sophia answered.

  “Hello?”

  For a moment, I thought about hanging up, but I steeled myself to speak. “Sophia? It’s me.”

  There was a long pause. “Miramar?” And then louder, “Miramar?”

  “Yes. It’s me,” I repeated, twirling the phone cord around my fingers.

  “Where are you? What happened to you?”

  “I’m in Toronto.”

  “Why didn’t you call us? Why didn’t you tell us?” Her voice got clogged up. She was crying.

  “Sophia, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say.

  “I don’t want … I can’t talk to you.” She hun
g up.

  I replaced the receiver, my eyes filling up. The guilt was unbearable. I had held it off for a year and now it was gathering itself to bury me.

  “She hung up?” Mouse asked, his hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “You want something to eat?”

  “No!” I screamed. Mouse leaned back, startled.

  “Okay, fine. Sorry,” he said, slowly getting up.

  I picked up the phone again and dialled. This time it rang for a long time. Finally, she picked up. “Miramar, stop calling!”

  “Sophia, tell me what’s going on. Why are you there? Where’s Darwin? Ma?” I spoke quickly, before she could hang up again.

  “Why do you care? You left us.” Sophia wasn’t crying anymore. There was blood in her voice.

  “Please, Sophia. Tell me what’s happening-”

  “I’m here because I lost my Gift, okay? And Darwin, too. We’re both at home now because no one gives a shit anymore. And Ma? You want to know where Ma is? She’s back in the hospital. She went fucking nuts again. Happy, Miramar? Are you happy now?” she screamed into the phone.

  I was crying hard now, and I wiped away my snot with the back of my hand, trying to take it all in. “Are you all right? Is Dar, is he all right?”

  “Am I all right? What the hell do you think? I’ve been a fucking circus monkey for the past two and a half years and now I can’t add two and two together. I’m sitting here in fucking Scarborough wondering how I’m gonna raise Darwin, get Ma out of the hospital and whether my fucking sister is alive or dead. What do you think?”

  I deserved it. Or maybe I deserved it. I did not know.

  “Can I come see you guys? Can we talk? Please.”

  “No. I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

  I accepted a tissue from Mouse. “Can I call you back tomorrow? Is that enough time for you to think?” There was another long silence. I thought maybe she had hung up again.

  “Yeah, call me tomorrow,” she sighed and hung up.

  Mouse was in the kitchen, getting a bowl for his takeout. I went to the kitchen to apologize for snapping at him. I kept ruining it with everyone who mattered. “Sorry, Mouse. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Forget about it. S’okay.” He patted me on the back. “Mind if I eat?”

  “Nah.” I watched him spoon mau pao tofu onto a bowl of rice.

  “Hey, lang lui, if this is causing you so much stress, why don’t you just drop it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you seem like you’re doing okay without your family. Why dig up old wounds? I mean, I don’t know what happened between y’all, but maybe let sleeping dogs lie, ya know?” He opened the drawer to get chopsticks.

  “Are you kidding me? My family’s in trouble. Like really serious trouble. You think I should just abandon them?”

  “Well, I mean they’re in trouble with you or without you, right?”

  “So, just disappear. Pretend I never had a family?”

  “Yah, I guess. I mean, you make your own family as you go, right? You know, it’s like in Heroes of the East. Remember how that guy, what’s his name, Ah Wing or something, left because his father was nagging him to be a woodcutter like him? And then he realized he was really a poet? And then he met up with the bandits and he joined them and—”

  “Are you crazy?” Anger burst from me like a long-smouldering volcano. “We’re not talking about the films. We’re talking about my family!”

  “Okay,” he nodded, trying to get by me. My volcano was past polite. It was steaming and boiling over all my frustration, loss, and want. And all of it was flooding out at once.

  “What the hell do you know about it anyway? You’re a goddamn tree, right?”

  For a moment, Mouse just stared at me. His face was a mask I could not read. Only a small twitch of his mouth revealed I had hit a nerve. Finally, he said so quietly I could almost not hear him, “Then go home. What are you waiting for?”

  I wanted to kick, to smash something. “You can’t deal with the real world, can you? You really can’t,” I shouted.

  Mouse turned and flung the bowl he was holding against the kitchen wall. It shattered, rice falling like rain. “What does that have to do with anything? At least I have a life. I have friends. You don’t have any friends. Just me. So what does that make you, Miss Real Fucking World?” He strode into the living room and grabbed his coat from the floor.

  I wanted him to be angry. I needed him to be as angry as I was. And I wanted to scream harder and louder, than I ever had. “And who are you, anyway? Do you even know anymore? You’re so far gone, you probably don’t even remember your real name.” I could not stop. The lava of my heart continued to sputter as he pulled on his coat.

  “Tell me! What’s your real name?” I screamed as he slammed out of the apartment.

  Chapter 31 ~

  The drums sounded and were reaching a crescendo. The time of reckoning was now. Yan walked through the soldiers lined up on both sides and prepared to enter the palace to face her fate. Would she be welcomed or punished? It was anyone’s toss.

  I DID NOT SLEEP that night. I did not deserve sleep. It would serve me right if I never slept again. After Mouse left, I turned off all the lights and dropped to the floor and stayed that way for hours. If I didn’t move, perhaps no further damage could be done. Perhaps it could even be reversed and the earth could retain its equilibrium. Sophia and Darwin would regain The Gifts, Ma would collect her senses, Ba would return from the dead, and Mouse could happily go on just being Mouse. I would continue to lie on that floor until I crumbled into the tiniest grains of dust and blew away.

  I had abandoned my family, and now they hated me. Ba would have been so disappointed. He had always believed in me, knew that no matter what, I would be a rock for my family. And I had blown it. I thought for a change that I deserved to look out for myself, to try and make myself into someone, to forge a new heroic life. I was full of shit. I had not forged anything except ruin. I had wrecked everything I loved, and was back to worse than where I had started. I was weak; I was small. Now I was worse than average. I was a coward too.

  While I lay on the cold living room floor, I was pummelled with a million dream-like images. I was five, and Ba taught me how to swim in the sea at Lantau Island. I was scared, but Ba held my hands as I learned to float. My head underwater, I opened my eyes and saw his feet, toes sunk in the sand. I panicked and inhaled the salty water. What was I so afraid of?

  I was seven, and Ba brought Sophia and me to the hospital to see Ma and Darwin. Ma lay against the white pillows, her hair spilling over her shoulders. She held Darwin in her arms, and wore the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on her face. Come closer, she told us. Sophia and I, on either side of Ma, looked down at our baby brother, his face wrinkled and red like a raisin. We stroked his arms, and Darwin grabbed onto our fingers and held tight.

  I was nine. We were boarding the plane in Hong Kong. I saw my grandparents, aunts, and uncles waving at us from the terrace of the airport as we climbed the stairs onto the flying machine. My eyes were pulled in these two directions — the giant airplane in front of me and my grandmother’s pained face, tears streaming down her cheeks. All the while, I felt Ba’s hand against my back, guiding me forward.

  I was thirteen. It had snowed for days, the banks had grown taller than us. School was cancelled. Ma told the three of us to get in our snowsuits and play in the backyard. To keep Darwin entertained, Sophia and I pretended to work in a candy factory, breaking pieces of icicles into bits and sprinkling them with snow. When Ba got home that night, we presented our parents with a Frisbee tray of our creations for dessert. Ma and Ba made ooommmm noises as they pretended to eat our snow cakes, and Darwin hopped from foot to foot in delight.

 
As the first sign of light crept into the living room, I got up from the floor and went to the bathroom to clean my face. My body ached and my eyes were almost glued shut from dried tears.

  I went to the kitchen to make coffee and cut my toe on a shard of the bowl that had shattered all over the kitchen. “Ow.” I hopped back to the bathroom on one foot to get a bandage. I should not have lashed out at Mouse. It was my problem that I had cast my family out, not his. Mouse had only been good to me. And now he was gone too. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a past. I was making sure I had no present.

  After my foot was fixed and coffee drunk, it was still early, only seven-fifteen a.m., but I could not wait anymore. I called Sophia.

  She picked up on the first ring. “Hey,” she answered.

  “Hey.” For a moment, we were silent, but I could feel a familiar current tingling in my body. It was the feeling of returning home.

  We didn’t say much. She didn’t seem angry anymore, just resigned and tired. I said I would come immediately and she didn’t argue.

  After I hung up, I surveyed the damage in the kitchen, the broken bowl, the grains of rice all over the black and green tiles, the smear of sauce on the wall. It might be the last thing Mouse left me, and I wanted to remember what I did to him. I turned away from it. Let broken things lie.

  Riding the subway across the Bloor line to Kennedy, I got itchier; I felt so purely happy to be going home it did not even matter how I might be received. The car rumbled as it pushed through the dark tunnels to the outside, showing us riders in a sudden burst of sunlight. High-rises began to dominate the scenery, a telltale sign that the suburbs were nearing. I waited for a bus at the subway station, checking the faces of other commuters for signs of things to come. They didn’t seem like they were living an extraordinary day, but as the bus neared home, the bright pink lips on an elderly woman and the crisp swish of the parka on a school kid felt like small miracles, like a good life was happening. The bus drove across the landscape I knew like the lines in my palms. The stretch of plazas, the wide roads grey with dirt-soaked snow and ice, and periodic pedestrians. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying.