by Vivian Yang
“That’s wonderful, Lu Long. Congratulations! You know my Father studied at Columbia in the late Forties. I’m so happy for you.”
“You didn’t ask the amount of the scholarship.”
“Oh, yes. How much?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars per academic year.”
“Wow! You’ll be a rich man!”
“Not only that. Some day, I may even win the Nobel Prize. Say you’ll marry me now before it’s too late.”
We laugh in unison over the phone line. I sense tears welling up. Then I say, “We definitely have to get together and celebrate this. Besides, I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“It’s about time. I can’t wait to see you again. It’ll be my treat.”
“No, no. We should go Dutch as the Americans do. I’ve told you I’m earning a little money now, too.”
“Forget about your stingy sponsor’s five hundred dollar a month salary! We’ll have to talk about this, too. I insist on treating. Let’s go to Wok Egg Roll. I worked there as a takeout boy. Everybody knows me. The boss will give us a good deal.”
“You look prettier than ever, Sha-fei,” Lu Long says. “I like your makeup. No more, no less, just right.”
I smile, embarrassed. “Since when did you become an expert on makeup?”
“Actually, you still look the same as in my dreams.”
Blushing, I suggest, “Why don’t we sit down and order some food.”
Typical Chinese setup for hosting guests: four dishes, one soup: pan fried flounder with ginger, scallions, and soy sauce; sweet and sour pork; stir fried Chinese green vegetable with straw mushroom; dried shrimp seaweed egg drop soup. Beers would drive up the cost, so we stick to the green tea. Complimentary.
“Lu Long, it’s unfair you’ve been hiding such a beautiful girlfriend from us all for so long!” a skinny waiter teases my friend as he brings out chopsticks for us in exchange for the forks and spoons set on the table.
Lu Long gives him a pleased look and says, “Now you see her. Beautiful and smart.”
I smile and say hello to the waiter. We shake hands.
After he leaves, I whisper to Lu Long, “Why didn’t you tell him I’m not your girlfriend?”
Lu Long looks into my eyes and vows, “You will be. I’ll win you back.”
My cheeks begin to burn. I look away and raise my cup. “Congratulations to you, Lu Long. Way to go!”
“Thank you, Sha-fei Hong. I’m so glad you could come. I’m overjoyed.”
Lu Long begins to ask detailed questions about my current situation. I try to focus on my arrangement with Gordon and avoid mentioning Ed.
“Your sponsor is such a miser. I can’t believe it. Five hundred bucks for all this work, and no professional sponsorship.”
“Forget about that. It’s only on a trial basis. But I’m not complaining. Without him, I could have lost my legal status already.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. Your sponsor is not the only Chinese in New York. But anyway, with all these reports you’re turning out for him, he must be making a lot selling them to the end-users. And I bet he doesn’t pay taxes on employing you. It’s all off the books, like these restaurant owners I worked for.” Lu Long suddenly reduces his volume.
“I don’t think Mr. Lou is getting money for my reports, though. He is trying to break into politics and establish himself as a representative of the Asian-American community. He uses the results of my research to prepare himself so that he will appear knowledgeable and appealing to the politicians when it’s time.”
“This is disgusting. It’s just like being a graduate student. You toil your life away in the labs for your professor and your dissertation committee chair. You do all the dirty work and turn yourself into a nerd. They get all the research breakthrough credits and publishing opportunities. And their tenures. And you wouldn’t dare not to lick their boots, because the whole scene is just too political.”
“Is this a summary report on your life so far in an institution of higher leaning in the U.S.?” I ask jokingly.
“Absolutely!”
“But now you can say ‘the heck with you’ and go to Columbia.”
“I can’t believe this came from you, Sha-fei. Are you really so naïve to think that it’ll be different there? It’s all the same. New York, Shanghai, capitalists, revolutionaries. Deep down, they’re all the same. They’re all after nothing but self-interest.” Lu Long is getting excited as he speaks.
I smile at him and say, “Hey, Lu Long. I thought we’re celebrating your opportunity to become a Ph.D. candidate at Columbia. Don’t be so cynical, okay? We all have to pay our dues, especially as new immigrants. A lot of people started worse off than us. We should look forward to the future.”
“You sound like you’re giving a lecture, Sha-fei. Are you repeating your foreign boyfriend’s words?”
“As a matter of fact, no. It was my sponsor who talked about paying dues as an immigrant. And I think it’s really true.”
“True? It’s true because it serves his needs to make you think you have no choice.”
“But what are my options? Can you name them, please? I’m lucky enough to stay legal with the school postponement. Don’t you think I wish to get a real job offer with decent pay? I know all the work I’m doing for my sponsor is professional. It requires a political science background, bi-lingual verbal and written skills, a deep cultural understanding, and everything else. But Mr. Lou is not going to pay me market rate and sponsor me for a Labor Certificate H-1 visa, because that’ll make me a free person. He’ll no long have a cheap, efficient, and obedient laborer.”
Lu Long looks at me and sighs. “In other words, you’re resigned to the position of Wei Ren Zuo Jia – sewing the bridal gowns of others without ever getting married. Slaving for someone else with no benefit to yourself.”
“I suppose the expression does describe my current condition to a degree, but I don’t think I’m slaving for others without any benefit to myself. I’m actually learning a lot about the political scenes here in New York. Someday, someday soon, I’ll put all this knowledge into good use. Meanwhile, I’ll get out this situation as soon as I get a realistic chance.”
Eyes beaming with intelligence and head nodding, Lu Long reaches across the table and holds my hand. “I have an idea. Why don’t you approach the politicians Mr. Lou’s trying to impress and pull a Mao Sui Zi Jian?” Mao Sui was a military strategist in China’s Warring States Period over two thousand years ago who recommended himself to the Emperor at the risk of being beheaded and became extremely successful. “With your talent and familiarity with the issues, they may even have you work for them and sponsor you for an H-1 visa.”
My eyes light up, mouth open. “They may, indeed! You always come up with such great ideas! Thanks a lot!”
Lu Long presses my hand as if to say “You bet!” Then, he releases it to refill my cup with green tea.
“But I have to be very discreet in approaching these politicians. If Gordon Lou found out before I succeeded in being recognized, it would be all over with him.”
“But in life, we all have to take risks, Sha-fei. We took the risk to come to America. Now we have to take the risks to survive and to prosper.”
“Well said, Lu Long! This sounded just like my Father’s last words of encouragement to me. You’re really wonderful.”
“Thank you for saying so, Sha-fei. These won’t be my last words to you, I’m sure. Our roads are long and hard in the future. If we aim high and work hard, they will be bright as well.”
Our four hands are held tightly together. “Yu Nin Gong Mian!” we vow to each other – Let us encourage each other in our endeavors!
All the reference librarians in the 2nd floor Economic & Public Affairs section know my face by now. Today’s question is “Who’s who in New York politics.” Two names: Governor Denise Doyle, the Democrat incumbent, and former State Senator from Brooklyn, N.Y., Leonardo DellaFave, Doyle’s Republican challenger for next year
’s gubernatorial election. I examine their profiles, their campaign platforms, and their record and current positions on issues. I decide to approach DellaFave first. Unlike Governor Doyle, who shuttles between Albany and his home on Long Island, DellaFave works twice a week out of his campaign headquarters in mid-town Manhattan. I decide to take a chance and go to his office as a walk-in supporter. According to a reference librarian, volunteers and voters are always welcome at political campaign centers.
Summarizing the results of my research for both Gordon and Ed, I come up with a succinct presentation on the status of the Chinese-American population in New York and what elements in it could help DellaFave in the coming election. Its gist looks something like this:
Traditionally, the Chinese-American community has supported the Democratic Party. But the demographic composition of the New York Chinese-American population has changed significantly in recent years, resulting in the shift of political power in the community. The latest census indicated that there were about 200,000 Chinese-Americans in the New York metropolitan area alone. It is my belief that this number is understated.
An unprecedented number of legal immigrants have arrived in Greater New York in recent years, noticeably people from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Mainland China, and South-east Asia. Many Indo-Chinese refugees are also ethnic Chinese. The most popular language has gradually been changing from the Cantonese Toisanese dialect to Mandarin, the official language of Taiwan, Mainland China, and Singapore. The livelihood of many of these Chinese-Americans has also changed from the traditional laundry, restaurant, and garment factory operations to include mainstream professions such as Western medicine, accounting, law, travel agency, banking, trade and commerce, religious organizations, and English-language learning facilities.
The influx of largely Taiwanese, Hong Kong, and Southeast Asian-Chinese capital has produced a new breed -- a fiscally conservative and socially moderate class. They and their children, mostly young professionals with an American education have moved out of Chinatown and purchased properties in Westchester County, on Long Island, and in nearby states of Connecticut and New Jersey. But their cultural roots, so to speak, are still in the New York Chinese-American community. Many of them are attracted to some elements of the Republican Party platform. They are the people with money within the Chinese-American community. Remember the wisdom from Woodward and Bernstein: ‘Follow the money.’ It is to this group of Chinese-Americans that we should target our efforts.”
Not wanting to be a literal “walk-in” supporter and not being able to see DellaFave in person, I called his office to set up an appointment. “You’re the first Oriental to call our office,” the DellaFave volunteer who answered the phone said this to me. “I’ll make sure you get to speak to Senator DellaFave.”
14 Sha-Fei Hong: Big Curvaceous Field
Weekly shopping trips at the local grocery store is the closest thing I have now to the experience of getting my favorite food item from the store in Shanghai’s Flatiron Building. But Ed hates grocery shopping. “But this is just another necessary evil of modern times,” he concludes. “Imagine how stupid it is to schlep plastic bags full of junk food up and down Fifth Avenue? This is not your Mott Street in Chinatown."
"What do you mean 'my Mott Street in Chinatown'? If you look down upon the Chinese so much, why do you wolf down to Chinese food like a glutton?"
"You need to improve your English. When I say ‘your Mott Street,’ I don’t mean Sha-fei Hong’s Mott Street, Okay? I love the Chinese! But it's simply a fact that Fifth Avenue is not Chinatown. I used to buy only a carton of milk and a few odds and ends from the Food Emporium. All in one bag. Look at what we're doing now."
"But you used to eat out so much and never cook at home. Now I'm a live-in cook. Don't you consider that?"
Ed laughs. "And a gourmet cook at that. The live-in part is the bonus."
"And I save you money and always provide custom service."
Ed shakes his head and says, “On the other hand, I now have two mouths to feed."
I resent hearing that. It reminds me of Stepfather and my years of financial dependency on him. I don’t know why, but lately Ed makes me think about Stepfather more and more.
“I can take care of myself if my extra mouth gives you such misery.”
“Oh, please, Sha-fei. What are you talking about? I wasn’t complaining. I was just kidding. It’s great having you around.”
It is at the store that Ed is reminded that I should be in school. A young man and a young woman, both with "Gotham U." backpacks, are standing in line in front of us.
"Gee! When did school start?" Ed suddenly asks me.
"Last week."
"Shit! Already? So you're really not going?"
"I have no choice. I talked to you about it, but I had no money to pay tuition."
“What about your dear uncle-sponsor? Isn’t he supposed to take care of you?”
“You said yourself that since I wasn’t going to school, working for you was perfect for your needs.”
“But I didn’t say you should break the law in order to do that.”
It’s our turn at the checkout counter. I cast a look at him to stop him and begin to load items onto the conveyer belt.
No sooner have we exited the store than Ed bellows, "Don't you realize what you got yourself into? You've just let yourself become 'out-of-status'! How could you be this stupid? Haven't you learned anything from your research on immigration? I can’t believe that your sponsor is not paying for your school. Doesn’t he know he’s legally liable for you?"
“So that’s why you refused to loan me a few thousand dollars. You were assuming that Uncle Gordon would pay for it. Well, I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“I have my pride and I have my dignity. I asked you and you turned me down. I’m not going to ask somebody else again and suffer further humiliation.”
“Yeah, right! I’m really impressed! Well, I’ve got news for you. You’ve just dug your own grave in America and your sponsor has just violated the law!"
Not wanting to tell him about my arrangement with Gordon, I fan his fire. "I thought every case is subject to interpretation."
"I can't believe you're taking what I said literally! These comments were off the record. What you’ve done is preposterous!”
We walk back to Ed's building without speaking a word to each other again. As soon as the elevator doors open to his apartment, Ed dumps the shopping bags on the floor and roars, "I'm not going to bail you out! Did you hear that? The last thing anyone who's trying to build up a career as an immigration lawyer wants is sheltering an illegal alien.”
“I’m not an illegal alien!” I protest, letting my bags fall on the floor as well. “I haven't lost my legal status. I've already registered with the INS my request to defer my matriculation for the fall semester. And the INS has granted me permission. So I'm covered." I kick a rolling can of Campbell soup back to a plastic bag and continue, “But if you’re afraid that I’d endanger your Big Immigration Attorney career, I can leave right at this minute.”
Ed grabs my arm and says, "How dare you keep me in the dark about something like this? You took me for a fool!"
“Let go of me!” I scream. “I never took you for a fool. But since when have you been sympathetic when I tried to talk to you about the problems I face? You’re always so busy and exhausted when you get home. You didn’t seem to care after I spoke to you about my tuition. You called me a bad credit risk. Of course I had to resort to other channels for help. Thank goodness, you won’t have to be bothered by me any more!”
He grabs me again, this time tighter. “Wait! We’ve got to straighten this out. This whole thing is a plot. Not just any Joe Blow could have come up with it. Now, tell me. Whose idea was it?”
“It’s none of your business!”
Ed's face changes from white to red. His green eyes look like those of a cat who has just lost his mouse to a leop
ard. "So it is a plot, and I know just who is masterminding all this. That so-called uncle of yours, right?”
“I said it’s none of your business!”
“Jesus Christ! He is this pitiable, old stick-in-the-mud diehard. And the two of you plot behind the scenes against me!"
“Against you?! This is ridiculous! You’re out of your mind! Now, forget it! Let me go!”
Ed looks into my eyes in bewilderment. His expression softens. His free hand scoops me up by the waist, hugging me. "Don’t, please! I’m sorry. I didn't mean it. I was so jealous because I wanted you with me. Please don’t go. I need you here!”
“No,” I insist, but my body begins to yield.
“Calm down, baby. Calm down. It’s okay. We don’t have a problem anymore. You’re covered, so we’re okay. Stay, please. Think about what you and I can do together. Once I go solo, you can be my paralegal and office manager. And, who knows, I may even sponsor you to get your H-1. Just promise me to stay away from that old fogy. I'll take good care of you. Okay?"
His kisses are a forest on fire, melting me. Montages of the weeks of life we've shared together flicker before my eyes. His interest in Asia. His sense of humor. His tongue running over me, earlobes to toes. Our sizzling bodies defying air-conditioning …
He’s entitled to be angry because I didn’t tell him something so important. If he’s jealous of Gordon, it’s because he loves me. He just doesn't know the proper way to show it. He has been too preoccupied with his new job to have time.
I push Ed aside and lift the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. It's past the time I normally fix our Saturday brunch. Cream cheese on toasted bagels. Smoked salmon with capers. Slices of raw onion. Campbell’s Manhattan clam chowder. Cappuccino. What Ed calls the “Manhattan-living away from Chinese food. For a change.”