by Mei Silk
“I know, I know. You and Mabel are both good people. But still. Why?”
Sara was touched by Aunt Liu’s concern. Suddenly, she was reminded of the emotional turmoil of her divorce. She sighed and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It can’t be explained.”
“Now, child, don’t you worry,” Aunt Liu patted her on her shoulder. “Aunt Liu will find you a good husband.”
Sara forgot her melancholy as panic swirled around inside her. Aunt Liu seemed serious. “Oh no, Aunt Liu, please, don’t trouble yourself!”
“There isn’t any trouble at all! I know many people. You see, among my church friends and my customers, many are eligible bachelors. In fact, I was speaking to one the other day. William, a good boy. Electrical engineer, forty-five, a condo paid off, will buy a house once married. He’s from Hong Kong. In my humble opinion, one should marry within one’s ethnicity in order to be able to communicate better. If you prefer someone that’s born here like yourself, Yingying, then I recommend Peter, a dentist . . .”
Sara glanced over her father as Aunt Liu wouldn’t stop chattering, but he merely shrugged.
After she had failed to arouse Sara’s interest in her lists of potential suitors, Aunt Liu finally left, but not without telling Sara that she wouldn’t give up on her.
“Dad, why didn’t you help me out?” Sara complained.
“Why should I spoil your chance of finding a husband?”
“I don’t need a husband.”
“Don’t tell me you intend to stay single for the rest of your life?”
“You’re so mean, Dad.” Sara stamped her foot like she used to when she was a child, then quickly changed the subject, “How do you like Aunt Liu?”
“She is a kind person,” Derek mumbled, “but she’s not my type.”
Sara hadn’t expected that answer. Aunt Liu was unkempt most of the time. She didn’t care what she wore and Sara had never seen her with a stylish haircut. Most of time she was in her blue apron and her face was greasy with oil and sweat.
“I see.” Sara could hardly stifle her chuckle. “She’s not pretty enough.”
“No!” Derek laughed. “She’s not un-pretty at all. It’s just that there is no friction between us.”
“Friction, huh?” Now, Sara was really surprised.
“Of course, don’t think that because I’m an old man I’ll settle for a boring relationship.”
“So, you want someone to argue with you?”
“I don’t mind arguing, but that’s not what I mean by friction. I just want a woman who appreciates what I do. A woman who at least knows how to judge a flower arrangement.”
“Oh, and Aunt Liu doesn’t?”
“She doesn’t even look at my flowers. And if I ask her what she thinks about them, she just says, ‘gorgeous!’”
“Perhaps she really thinks they are,” Sara said, realizing that her dad had a point.
“No, she doesn’t care. Just like your mom.” Derek sighed and shook his head.
Sara quieted at that. She knew her mom had never cared for flower arrangements, and had disliked Derek’s dedication to his career.
“So unmanly,” she used to say, “better to find a man who fixes cars than a man who arranges flowers.”
And her mother had done exactly that, marrying a mechanic who owned auto shops all over China.
Chapter 7
Lying in bed that night, Sara thought about Aunt Liu’s suggestion. If she had married a Chinese man, would her marriage have lasted longer? She wouldn’t know. Her parents were both from China.
Sara wondered what her mom was doing and where she was at the moment. Her mother had been traveling quite a bit since she had returned to China. The last time she spoke to her on the phone was a few days before she left Oregon and her mom was in Yunnan. “Yingying,” she remembered her mother saying on the phone, “I thought I was going to the paradise on earth when I went to the U.S, but now, thirty-five years later, I find out that it’s right here in China.” Her mother had made that remark casually, and laughed after she had said that. But Sara was very much touched by that and thought about it often. She was sure that Mabel wasn’t just talking about the scenery alone. Did she also mean her marriage? Could it be that the mechanic had been her first lover? Oh, the irony of life, she thought. In a way, she had done the same her mother had. She had left LA to seek excitement of the outside world, and eventually found out that she belonged here. Except there wasn’t any high school sweetheart waiting for her.
Mateo’s face appeared in her mind. She had a strange feeling that she had known him from before. Hadn’t he been a member of the Y since he was a child? Could he have been one of her students?
She fell asleep to that thought and her thoughts twisted and turned into a bizarre dream. They were in a Chinese restaurant decorated with red ribbons and flowers. A big “double-luck” character was hanging on the wall. She was standing next to Mateo, her father, and Aunt Liu. Aunt Liu fastened one end of a red ribbon on Mateo’s waist and another on her.
“It’s called tying the Red Ribbon.” Aunt Liu smiled at them. Sara had to tell Mateo that it was a symbol for match-making in Chinese tradition. Aunt Liu whispered in Sara’s ear, “I approve of your groom. He’s very handsome, although he’s only half-Chinese. And Sara, can you take me with you when you go swim next time?”
Sara was laughing at Aunt Liu’s humor when a man showed up with a pair of scissors in hand.
“You slut!” the man said, and Sara realized the man was Bill. Without another word, he cut the red ribbon in half, grabbed her arm and dragged her with him.
“Stop it, Bill! Let go of me!” Sara screamed.
Mateo ran to them, but Bill threw the scissors at him. Sara saw him fall. “No! Mateo!”
“Now you’re mine again!” Bill laughed the evil laugher that she was so familiar with.
“Somebody call 911!” Aunt Liu’s voice shouted in the back. And at the same time Sara heard the ringing of the fire alarm.
* * *
She woke with a start. The telephone was ringing. She sighed in relief when she realized it had been a dream. She’d never been more grateful to wake up to a ringing phone.
“Hello?” she said after clearing her throat.
“Good morning, Sara! It’s Mateo.”
“Mateo?” Sara’s heart started to race. “Are you okay?”
Mateo paused. “Why? I’m okay, yes. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I, uh,” Sara stopped herself from telling him that she had dreamed of him, dead. “Never mind.”
“Okay . . . Are you free today?”
“Uh.” She tried to think of an excuse, but her brain was too dull at the moment.
“Good, that means you’re free. Let’s go to the nursery.”
“I have to grade some homework.”
“I’ll come in the afternoon.”
“Wait.” Sara suddenly came back to her senses. “Today is the fourth of July. I’m going to go see the fireworks at Barnes Park.”
“Great, I plan to do the same. But that’s not until later tonight.”
Darn. Sara tried to think of another excuse. “Don’t you have a barbeque party to go to?” She knew barbeques on the fourth of July were popular with everyone—including Latino families.
Mateo laughed on the other end of the line, “Not this year. My mom has invited her employees to a party at her house, so I have nowhere to go. Do you have a party to go to? Should I go with you?”
“Uh . . .” Sara sighed. He was persistent.
He laughed again, “Uh, means no. Let me see. It’s eight now. I’ll pick you up at one!” He hung up.
Sara shook her head at the receiver. For a whole week, she had been very carefully trying to avoid that irresistible lifeguard, in order not to give him any chance of bringing up the possibility of another date. He seemed to have taken her hint, and was keeping his distance from her as well. But then, he takes her by surprise. He must have planned all that! Rascal.
She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. That was why he called so early in the morning. He must have known she wasn’t the sharpest thinker early in the morning.
* * *
Mateo was glad that Sara had allowed him take a glimpse of her inner self the other night at dinner. He had been disappointed when she’d suddenly stopped, but hadn’t urged her to go on. He wanted to learn more about her but he could wait. The fact that she had been married before troubled him slightly, in the sense that he didn’t know how deeply wounded she was. Was she over it completely? Was she ready to begin a new relationship? From how reluctantly she was to agree to go out with him, he pretty much knew the answers. But he was not discouraged. He would be patient. Besides, he sensed that the attraction between them was mutual. At least, he didn’t sense any dislike on her part. And he was confident that he would win her heart.
They had been in the nursery for only about twenty minutes, but their wheel barrow was already full. Mateo, trying to lighten the air between them, was behaving like a kid in a toy store, and he could see Sara was enjoying his incessant banter. “These geraniums would be a year-round decoration to your front porch. The azaleas would look nice at the entrance of your yard, oh, I love lavenders, especially the French lavender,” he ranted. “Too bad you already have the Champaca, you don’t want the jasmine to compete with it. What about some gardenias? Marigolds? Cosmos?”
“Mateo.”
He looked over at Sara’s smiling face.
“There isn’t enough space in my yard. Besides, too much variety might create chaos.”
“Oh, you have plenty of space. Variety is good because the flowers don’t bloom all at once.”
“But I don’t know how to take care of them.”
“I’ll teach you how to.”
“I don’t have the patience or the time.”
“Then you’ll hire me to be your gardener. Or maybe, I’ll volunteer so we’ll be even.”
Mateo flashed her a charming smile, knowing she’ll give in. He turned away from her, examining the lavenders when she stopped protesting, and he caught a whiff of her alluring scent when she brushed past him and wandered down the aisle. He glanced over at her retreating form, admiring the curves of her elegant body.
* * *
Sara was familiar with Rosemead Nursery. They provided most of the flowers for her father’s shop. She had often been here with her parents as a child, but she always remembered the first time. It must have been some thirty years ago, when her parents bought their first house. She remembered the excitement of roaming among the plants. It had been the most beautiful garden she had been to as a child—her parents had seldom had time to take her to botanic gardens. It wasn’t until she went to school when she discovered the real gardens such as the Huntington Library and the Arboretum in arcadia.
But as she walked among the flowers now, the one thing Sara remembered clearly was how happy her parents had been. Whenever they saw something that was native to China, her mother would gasp in delight. She even remembered clearly that they’d bought a white Champaca tree that day.
She wandered over to rose section in the center of the nursery. It was big enough to be called a rose garden. Mateo was right about them: they were begging to be planted. Sara was dazed by the variety and gave up her attempt to choose.
“Why don’t you decide which one to get?” Sara said to Mateo, whose eyes were sparkling.
“Sure. Let me see.” He looked at their wheel barrow and mumbled, “We have the gardenia that blooms throughout the summer. We don’t need anything white. We could get something pink or red.”
He looked among the red and pink roses, sniffing for fragrance and examining the health of the plants.
“How do you like this Bourbon rose?” He pointed to one with beautiful high-centered, cerise-pink flowers.
“It’s gorgeous!” Sara said as she went to the plant and read the tag. The name was Zehirine Droubhin.
“A hybrid of China and damask,” Mateo said, squatting down next to her. “That explains the strong perfume.”
They both tried to sniff the flower right in front of them and their noses touched. Simultaneously, they flinched back, but not before their eyes locked for a second and their cheeks burned to the color of the roses in front of them.
“It’s very strong indeed,” Sara said, recovering herself.
“‘Will grow up to fifteen feet,’” Mateo quickly read the tag in the pot. “We could plant it right under your living room window and it will reach up to your balcony by next summer.”
“Awesome.” Sara nodded, imagining the walls of her condo full of roses. “Is it easy to care for, though?”
“Very easy,” Mateo said, still looking at the tag, “it says right here.”
* * *
At the cash register, Mateo insisted to pay for the purchases, saying that those were his house-warming gifts for her.
“How do you know so much about gardening?” Sara asked on their way to her condo.
“My dad was a gardener.” Mateo’s voice became tender.
“Really? Your dad was a gardener?” That was unexpected. Sara had thought that he was from a wealthy family.
“Yeah.”
“In that case, I guess I’ll hire your dad instead,” Sara joked.
Mateo paused, and then turned his eyes away as he answered, “That’ll be expensive because he’s in Venezuela. You’ll have to buy him plane tickets first.”
“Oh?” Sara looked at Mateo, trying to decide how to respond to what he’d just said. His tone was light enough, but he wasn’t smiling at all. “Is he on vacation?” she asked timidly after a moment’s pause.
“Yes,” Mateo said with a light chuckle. “A long one. He left me and my mom over twenty years ago.”
Sara detected a hint of sadness in his voice. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Mateo, I’m sorry. It must have been hard.”
“It was hard. I was seven and my little sister was six. But my mom’s a tough woman. She would never let her children suffer. She worked three jobs, not just to keep us alive, but also to give us things that privileged kids had. Swimming lessons for me and dancing lessons for my sister. Summer camps every year. She never remarried because of us.”
“What a great woman, your mother, I would love to meet her,” Sara said with true admiration.
“You will. Her name’s Teresa. She will be delighted to meet you. Why don’t we go to her party tonight?”
“Uhm,” Sara hesitated. “I’m afraid it’ll be awkward.”
Mateo considered, “You might be right. Anyway, her birthday is in two weeks. You’re invited to the party.”
Oh great, she just got herself another date. But this time she had asked for it. Sara nodded. “Thank you! I’ll be looking forward to it. What would she like for her birthday?”
“She’d like her son to have a girlfriend,” Mateo said, glancing at her.
Sara blushed, but quickly responded, “You mean, versus having more than one?”
Mateo laughed. “That’s a clever way to pry into my personal life. I don’t have any girlfriends, Sara.”
His voice was low and earnest. Sara was lost for words, but only for a moment.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “I wonder why?”
“I just haven’t met the right girl,” he said and immediately corrected himself. “I mean I hadn’t, before last week.”
Sara could feel her heart jumping to her throat. How serious was he? She was so nervous that she couldn’t look at him.
* * *
They parked the car on the street so they could easily move the plants. It would take them a couple of rounds to carry the plants back. Sara went back to her house first to drop off her handbag and also keep the gate of her yard open.
As Sara walked towards the gate from her yard, she saw a man in a baseball cap, denim shirt and jeans talking to Mateo. But before she got close, the man left in a hurry. His hunched sil
houette looked sickly familiar.
“Who was that?” Sara asked when she reached Mateo.
“I don’t know,” Mateo said, “I was trying to open the gate and he just came up from behind me and offered to hold the gate for me. I thought he lived here.”
“How nice,” Sara mumbled, feeling unsettled. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Nothing. He was just saying that the flowers were pretty. You’ve never seen him before?”
She shook her head. She was reluctant to admit that the man looked familiar, so she simply smiled and said, “I haven’t really seen anyone here.”
* * *
It took them the rest of the afternoon to plant everything. By the time they were done, it was well past seven. There were sporadic sounds of fireworks on the street and inside the community.
“We still have some time before the firework show begins,” Mateo said. They were sitting at the patio table—another house-warming gift from him. “Should I treat you to dinner?”
“I should treat you to dinner, Mateo. You worked so hard and bought all of this,” Sara said.
“You’re right,” Mateo grinned. Sara caught the quirk of his eyebrow, and she snorted at the boyish look on his face.
“What would you like to have? Around here it’s all Chinese, but you could choose a different style. There is a pretty good dumpling restaurant on Atlantic, the Dumpling Master, and it’s been here forever. And there is a Peking duck restaurant on the same street. I went there with my dad last Christmas. It was pretty authentic,” Sara went on.
“Sounds good,” Mateo said, “But I want to try some homemade stuff.”
“Homemade?” Sara blushed. She wasn’t much of a cook. “To tell you the truth . . .”
Mateo smiled at her hesitation, “I mean, I want to cook. What do you have in the fridge?”
Sara thought for a moment and mumbled, “Not much. Some eggs, and some ham, and those are for breakfast. I haven’t had time to go shopping and it’s simply too convenient here. I’ve been having dinner at a different restaurant every day for the past month. ”