by Liu, Cynthea
“I thought you had to apply to an Ivy League.”
“Ha!” Jess said. “Like I could even get in.”
Cece was confused. “So your dad is okay with you going into fashion now?”
“Are you kidding me?” Jess said. “He has no idea about those plans, but he’ll find out soon enough.”
She took out a pair of gold shoes from the closet. “It’s time I faced him. Once and for all.” She set the shoes on the floor. “I can’t be the daughter he wants.”
“Jess ...”
Jessica closed the door to her wardrobe and leaned against it. “I’m tired of fighting so hard to get a tiny glimmer of approval from my parents, you know? All I hear is how I don’t live up to their standards. How I disgrace my whole family.”
“But you know that’s not true.”
“Tell my father that.” Jess sighed. “You’re so lucky, Cece. Your parents—they don’t care about all that. They’re just glad they have you, right? And they’ve probably loved you unconditionally since they got you.”
Cece didn’t know what to say.
Jess took in a deep breath. “This is so dumb. I can’t believe I’m letting myself get worked up over this.” She yanked a tissue out of a box on her desk. “I just wish ... my father understood me, you know?”
Cece nodded.
“Anyway ...” Jess straightened. “What matters most is that I know who I am and what I want.” She swiped at her eyes with the tissue. “If I can remember that, then no one can hurt me. Including him.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then finally, Cece said, “Jess, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and forced a smile. “A new pair of shoes and I’ll be fine.”
Cece smiled.
Jess pulled the concubine dress off her bed. “You can play my part, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Then try this on. I only have tonight to make adjustments. I leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? So soon?”
“Cece, I held out as long as I could. My father wanted me home when I failed midterms.”
“So how did you get him to let you stay?”
“I told him I had to finish what I was doing for you guys, and of course, he couldn’t let his daughter screw up things for other people. He gave me two weeks, and that ends tomorrow.” Jess held up the dress. “Now come on.”
Cece got up, then looked right into Jess’s eyes. Her roommate looked more determined than ever. Cece took the costume. “Jess?”
“What is it, C?”
“I just wanted to say ...” Cece bit her lip, thinking about her situation. How hesitant she was to confront her own problems. How afraid. “Well, I just wanted to say... I wish I had your courage.”
Jess smiled. “Thanks, Cece.”
Early the next morning, Jessica set her bags by the door, and they said their good-byes.
“E-mail me, okay?” Cece said.
“I will.” Jessica hung her purse over her shoulder. “Oh, and before I go... I wanted to wish you luck with Will.”
Cece tensed. She wasn’t sure if Jess was being sarcastic or serious. “Um ... what?” Though it was no secret that she and Will had been hanging out, she didn’t think Jess had been around enough to notice.
“Cece, you must think I’m brain-dead,” Jess said. “Ever since I saw you two chatting it up at the club, I knew you liked him, though I didn’t want to admit it.”
“Really?”
“Who doesn’t think he’s hot, C? And the guy is crazy about you, too. Has been since the beginning. Whenever I was with him, all he did was ask where you were, when you were going to come out with us. ... It drove me nuts.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. And I guess it would have been nice if I had mentioned that to you, but you know ...” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“I understand.” Though Cece wasn’t exactly thrilled that Jess had held out on her, she was glad she had told her. It was reaffirming to know her earlier suspicions about Will had been right.
“Anyway, I had to get that off my chest. Confession time is now up! I better go if I want to get to the airport early. I’m dying to buy some duty-free stuff.” She gave Cece a hug.
Someone knocked. “That’s gotta be Chris,” Jess said. “He’s helping me take my things down.” She grabbed the handle to one of her suitcases. “I’ll keep in touch, Cece. Bye!”
After Jess left, Cece leaned against the door. She was sad to see her roommate go. But as Cece moved away from the door, she smiled.
Jess was going after what she wanted now.
And that was something to be happy about.
That Thursday, Cece was sitting at her desk in her half-empty room. Without Jess’s things around, the place looked about as bleak as her culture paper. All she had written was a giant tirade about how Chinese people didn’t value girls, with little evidence to back it up. “Show me facts,” Professor Hu had written in the margins. “Must have facts.”
Cece tried searching for data online. How many girls were abandoned in China prior to the enactment of the one-child policy? How many were abandoned after? She couldn’t find hard numbers about female population in Chinese orphanages. She found only a figure for both boys and girls combined. According to China World News, only twenty thousand children were in state care in 2002. Out of 1.2 billion people? The number seemed way too low. It didn’t make sense.
She tried to see if anyone had done studies on China’s orphanages that might support her theory. She came across one report by the Human Rights Watch from 1996. It stated, “The vast majority of children in orphanages are, and consistently have been during the past decade, healthy infant girls; that is, children without serious disabilities who are abandoned because of traditional attitudes that value boy children more highly.” But the source of that information was from “anecdotal and journalistic reporting.” So was that fact? She didn’t think so.
Cece decided to go at the information from another angle. She wanted to see if there were data that might show a disparity between how women were treated in this country versus men—something that might indicate that girls were indeed less valued than boys. Did women have unequal access to higher education? She looked at enrollment figures for universities and found that almost half of the student population in China was female. Hmm ... that didn’t help. She expected the difference to be enormous. She then looked at labor force statistics. Again, nothing that would suggest women did not have equal opportunities at work.
Annoyed, Cece packed up her laptop, called Peter, and asked to meet him at the café by the university. Maybe he could help her understand why nothing added up.
When she arrived, she connected to Wi-Fi and showed Peter what she’d found.
“It’s like there’s a conspiracy or something,” Cece said. “I can’t prove that boys are valued here more than girls.”
Peter shrugged. “Maybe it’s because there is nothing to prove.”
“But there is, Peter,” Cece said. “I literally saw with my own two eyes all the girls at that orphanage. Don’t you think that speaks for itself?”
“To some extent, it does,” he said. “But this is the problem. You are making it sound like almost everyone is giving up girls for boys. I don’t think that is true because you just said twenty thousand children out of 1.2 billion.”
“Yeah, but that number must be way understated.”
“Even if it is,” Peter said, “do you believe our country is filled with homeless girls?”
“Well, no. Maybe they were all adopted to other countries. Like me.”
“Let’s look.” Peter typed his search on the Internet. “It says in 2005, about eight thousand Chinese children total were adopted to foreign countries.”
“Only eight thousand?”
“So where are the girls you think China abandons all the time?”
“Peter, I don’t know.” Cece held her head in h
er hands.
“Maybe you are looking for something that isn’t there.”
“No, I’m not,” Cece said indignantly. Then she felt herself giving in a little. “Okay, so maybe not everyone here thinks boys are more important than girls.”
“Maybe?”
“Okay, so it’s possible I’ve been generalizing... a little.”
“Good,” Peter said. “I’m glad you can see it now.”
“See what?”
“See why you need to go back to Beijing.”
Cece squeezed her eyes shut. “Peter.”
“Cece, you say you came here to find answers, but now you are trying to go back home with only more questions.” He got up. “Think about that.” And as if to emphasize his point, Peter just walked out, leaving her to herself.
Cece blew air at her bangs. She was so frustrated. She thought over what Peter had said about going home with more questions. But it was so much easier to forget what she had learned while she was here. Or was it? Cece played with a napkin on the table. Since Beijing, the image of the house and that boy had entered her mind one too many times. Would she ever really be able to forget?
Cece shut her laptop and packed up. So many thoughts swirled in her head as she went back to her dorm. She thought about how she felt before she left for China—so determined to find out why she had been abandoned. So excited to learn more about where she came from, who her parents were. Then she thought about her time in China—getting to know Jessica and understanding the strictness of her parents; meeting Peter’s mother and father, who seemed so different from Jess’s family; and finally Will, who hardly seemed any more Chinese than Cece. What was she to learn from all of this?
When she returned to her room and got ready for bed, she contemplated the orphanage. All those girls, their smiling faces. They all had their own stories, didn’t they? Like Jess, like Peter, like Will... like her. So why couldn’t she just go find out what hers was?
Cece lay in bed, trying to determine the answer, and when she finally found a way to put it in words, every part of her cringed. She knew what the possible consequence of approaching that fancy house in Beijing was. She knew what could happen if she met her birth mother and father.
She’d already felt rejected by them once. Could she risk being rejected twice?
That was it, wasn’t it? Her worst fear. Was she strong enough to weather that? Cece glanced at Jess’s empty bed. Could she spend her whole life feeling like her birth parents never accepted her, like Jess? What was it that her roommate had said? “If I know who I am and what I want, no one can hurt me.”
Was that true?
Cece took out her picture from the orphanage. The girl staring back was still a stranger, even after all this time. And the longing within Cece to know herself burned stronger.
You are trying to go back with only more questions, Peter had said.
She knew then that it wasn’t a matter of personal choice. It wasn’t a matter of fear anymore.
She got out of bed and pulled out her overnight bag.
Tomorrow evening, she had to go to Beijing.
The next day, before Cece met with her project team, she, Kallyn, and Peter met in her room. She told them about her change of plans.
“Finally,” Kallyn said, “Cece listens to the voice of reason.”
“It’s because I left you at the table, isn’t it?” Peter said. “I thought that was a nice touch.”
Cece smiled.
“I’ll get us train tickets tonight.” Peter got up to leave.
“Wait, Peter.” Kallyn looked at Cece. “Do you want me to come, too?”
Cece hesitated. “Actually ... I’d like to do this on my own, as much as I can. But Peter, I will need you.”
“Sure,” Peter said.
Kallyn nodded. “I understand. I’ll be pulling for you, Cece.”
After they broke up, Cece headed to the theater, thinking about how she was going to rearrange her schedule to fit in the trip to Beijing. By the end of today, the team would be about three-quarters done with the shots they needed. They’d already planned to meet Monday and Tuesday to finish. Finals were on Wednesday and Thursday—her culture paper would be due, and she’d have to take massive tests for other classes. Then Friday team projects would be presented. Her last week would be horrendous.
“Hey, Cece!”
Cece turned to see Will running up to her.
“I was thinking that I’d stop by your room around six?”
Her birthday plans. “Will, I’m sorry,” Cece said. “I can’t go anymore. I was just going to tell you.”
Will looked concerned. “What happened?”
“I’m going to Beijing.”
A grin spread across his face. “You are?”
“Yeah,” Cece said. “I take it you think it’s the right move.”
Will nodded. “But I knew it had to be your decision. Do you need me to come with you? I’d be happy to.”
“No, that’s okay. Peter is already going. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, thanks for the offer.”
“Well, all right then. Maybe we’ll have something even more to celebrate when you get back.”
Cece bit her lip. “I hope so.”
That evening, Cece boarded the train with Peter. While Peter stayed in another compartment, Cece lay in her sleeper, watching the shadows of the night flash across the walls. She felt like she was wandering into the big unknown, but mixed in with all the nervousness, she was oddly proud. She really was doing this, and somehow, she knew that Will was right. Everything was going to be okay.
When Cece and Peter arrived in Beijing the next morning, they hailed a cab and went directly to the house. The Mercedes was gone, and the yard was empty. “Now don’t be nervous,” Peter said. “Let me do the talking.”
“Easier said than done.” Cece rubbed her hands against her jeans and took a few deep breaths.
They got out of the cab and crossed the street. Peter found a speaker in front of the wooden gate. “I will ask for the master of the house.”
“Sure.” Cece leaned against the gate, thankful to be leaning against something.
Peter pressed one of the buttons, and the ringer buzzed. A few moments later, a man’s voice came on over the speaker. Peter and the man exchanged a few words.
“It is the attendant,” Peter whispered to Cece. “He wants to know what we want with the master.”
Cece shrugged. “Should we make up something?”
“No,” Peter said, “I will just tell him it’s important.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Peter spoke into the speaker again, and the man replied.
“This is not so easy,” Peter said. “He wants to know why it’s important.”
“Unbelievable.” Cece said. She stared at the gate. Think, Cece. “Maybe we should mention that the care worker sent us here?”
“Good. I will do that.”
Peter spoke into the speaker once more.
After a momentary pause, Cece heard the man say, “Wang Mei Ling?” as if he was surprised. Then he said, “Deng yi xia.”
Cece knew this one. It meant wait. “So he’s getting somebody?”
“Maybe,” Peter said. “The attendant’s coming.”
Cece straightened. This is it.
The lookhole in the gate opened, and an older man peered at Peter and Cece. Then he conversed with Peter. Cece heard Peter mention the care worker’s name again.
Breathe, Cece, breathe. She was starting to feel dizzy.
The man stared intently at Cece. “Bei Ma Hua?”
Peter nodded.
Bei Ma Hua, Cece thought. That was her name at the orphanage. “Peter, he knows me?”
Before Peter could answer, the man opened the gate. “Wo de tian, ah,” he said, a serious expression on his face. “Ni shi lai zhao wo ma?” His eyes began to brim with tears. “Ni shi lai zhao wo?”
Cece looked back at the m
an. “What’s he saying, Peter?”
“He says, ‘Have you come to find me?’”
What? Cece glanced from the man to Peter, confused.
The man continued to speak. A tear slid down his cheek. “Ni shi wo de nuer.”
This time, Cece realized what the man had said as soon as Peter had.
You are my daughter.
Chapter Fifteen
Cece found herself in a long embrace. This man was her father? But how? She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her father pulled back from their hug. Cece searched his face, looking for a resemblance, and now she could see it. His cheeks—they were rounded like hers. His chin, just as sharp.
“Wo jiao Shao Yi Mou,” he said.
Shao Yi Mou. Her father’s name. She still couldn’t believe he was standing right in front of her. Her dad. Her eyes welled with tears. “Wo, wo jiao Cece,” she managed to say.
“Cece,” her father said perfectly. It was as if the name couldn’t have sounded more beautiful to his ears. “Lai, lai.”
Come. Cece tried to compose herself as he ushered them into the courtyard and toward the back of the house. As Cece walked, her shock quickly turned into anticipation. What would her dad say to her? What would she find out? She looked at Peter, who gave her a reassuring smile. They came to a weathered door, then stepped inside. Cece took in the tiny, barely furnished room. There was only a small cot, a few chairs, and a table. Above the table, some dishes were stacked on a shelf, and in the opposite corner, a shower curtain was drawn across a narrow doorway.
Her father dusted off a couple of the chairs and gestured toward them. “Zuo.”
Cece and Peter sat down. As Cece nervously played with the edge of her shirt, she studied her father as he warmed a teapot. He was wearing a simple collarless button-down and loose-fitting pants. Almost like pajamas. From the creases of his clothing, she could make out his thin frame. How long had she wondered where she’d gotten her lanky stature? Now she knew.
When her father turned with two mugs brimming with tea, Cece smiled, an effort to appear calm.
He smiled back and handed Peter and Cece the mugs.