Paper Wife

by Laila Ibrahim

  Mei Ling looked at June, pain in her heart, sensing what was going to be shared.

  “The cooks tell me she jump from the ship when they were far, far from shore.” June shook her head side to side. “Nothing could be done. They watched her and waved a final goodbye.”

  Mei Ling took June’s hand. She imagined Jui Lan’s head bobbing in the water. Had her hard, sad eyes shown panic? Were her lips still red? Did she wave back? Was she resigned? Or furious? Mei Ling’s heart pained for Jui Lan, but she was afraid for herself as well.

  The girl-woman might have turned into an angry ghost, and June, Mei Ling, or the whole barracks might be the target of her fury. Mei Ling longed to burn incense and make a food offering.

  Too upset to eat anything, not even a sip of tea, she squirreled her egg into the bodice of her tunic to give it to the hungry ghost. Quan Yin, release Jui Lan’s spirit so that she may be in peace, Mei Ling prayed. Then she was flooded with remorse as she realized she had not thought to pray for the girl-woman before she was a ghost.

  Mei Ling stood up from the table to leave. Suddenly her vision went blurry and her mind swirled downward until she was overcome by a dark shadow. She grabbed at the table and tried to sit back down, but it was no use. The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Siew’s frightened face.

  Disoriented when she came back to awareness, Mei Ling felt like she was moving forward. Her head was resting against someone. Two men carried her, making a chair with their arms. She jerked upright, but one of them shouted, “Stay still.”

  They rushed up a dirt path to a building she didn’t recognize. The sounds of the waves against the shore told her she was still on the island. She slowly moved one hand to her chest; the egg was still there. She tried to reach the hem of her skirt, but it was too low to assure herself of the gold pieces.

  Once she was in the building, urgent voices were soothed by bored responses, and she was deposited in a bed with clean white sheets and a soft mattress. The men who carried her left without a word.

  She turned her head to look around the room, and pain exploded from behind her left ear. Feeling the spot, she found a huge lump on her head. An American woman in white nurse clothes, the color of death, came to Mei Ling’s side.

  “------ --- -----,” the woman spoke.

  Mei Ling stared at her.

  “--- ---- ----- -------, -- --?”

  Mei Ling could tell she’d been asked a question but didn’t understand the specifics. She shrugged, hoping the gesture was universal.

  “Are my children all right?” Mei Ling begged for information. “Bo and Siew?”

  This time the woman shrugged at her. The nurse patted Mei Ling’s arm and left. Mei Ling wished she could sit up, to look out the window to see where she was, but she feared she would collapse again. Without moving her head she looked around. It was another barracks, but there were fewer beds and they weren’t bunked. No one was in the corner next to Mei Ling, but the others were all filled with women who were resting. Mei Ling realized she was in the hospital on the island.

  The nurse returned to set a cup of water and a bowl of mush on the little metal table. The doctor, a White man, walked up to her and put his hands on her without introduction or permission. Mei Ling repressed her desire to slap his hands away or scream at him. She breathed in deeply to stop herself from flinching. Like in the exam when she first arrived, he touched her, saying something out loud to the nurse who wrote it down, and then moving to the next part of her body. He started at the top and worked his way down. Unlike a Chinese doctor he didn’t look at her tongue or take her pulses. Her heart sped up when he pressed against her abdomen. She studied his face, but he didn’t react. Then he violated her further by feeling her breasts.

  Both White people left. Mei Ling took deep breaths to soothe herself. She still had no appetite, but she forced herself to drink the water and eat the bland American mush. Left alone, she rested in the quiet calm of this place. The view out the window was lovely but didn’t distract her from her worries about the children and her uncertain situation.

  “Are you a married lady?” another patient asked from two beds over.

  Mei Ling nodded.

  “Then you will be fine. He believes you are carrying a baby. He went to find your record, to make sure you are a good woman, so they don’t have to send you back like that other one,” the woman said.

  Despite the stranger’s assurances, Mei Ling was terrified. For hours she was left to wait in uncertainty.

  The doctor returned just as the sun was setting.

  “You --- --------—--- --- ----- ----, ------ ---- ---- ---- ---------. ------- --- --- --- --- --- --- ------ --- ---?” He spoke gibberish to her.

  Mei Ling looked at him without comprehension and used some of her only English words: “So sorry. No much English.”

  Fury flitted across his face, raising fear in Mei Ling. He turned and rushed away. Again she was left alone with confusion and uncertainty.

  Sooner this time, the doctor returned with a Chinese man.

  The man bowed hello and said in Cantonese, “I am a translator. The doctor has requested my services. Do you prefer Sze Up, Sam Yup, Min, or Cantonese?”

  “You speak all those?” Mei Ling replied in Cantonese, fascinated despite her anxiety.

  He nodded and added, “And English, of course.”

  “Cantonese, please,” Mei Ling requested.

  The doctor, looking annoyed, said, “---- ---: You --- ------- --- --- --- ----- ----, ------ ---- ---- ---- ---------. ------- --- --- --- --- --- --- ------ --- ---?”

  Shame and anger flashed across the translator’s face before he said, “He suspects you are pregnant—for the first time, though your file says you have a son. Perhaps you aren’t who you are saying you are?”

  Mei Ling’s eyes widened, and her heart beat fiercely in her chest. Like Jui Lan, she would be sent back in disgrace. She wanted to protest her honor, tell this stranger she was a married woman, a good woman, but her mind froze, unable to form the right words. Bo! Would she ever see him again? Kai Li?

  The doctor spoke his gibberish to the translator, then gave Mei Ling a look she couldn’t read—his chin down and his eyebrows raised high.

  The man translated, “No one else needs to know. Do you understand?”

  Hope wiggled around Mei Ling, but she wasn’t clear what the doctor was insinuating. Had the translator asked if she understood or did the American doctor say that and the translator repeated it?

  “I don’t,” she said meekly.

  The translator repeated her statement to the White man. He looked at her, disgust in his eyes. He raised his hand up. Mei Ling pulled back, fearing he was going to beat her, but instead of striking out at her, the doctor rubbed his fat thumb against his first two pale fingers. Then he spun around and walked away. The doctor wanted something from her, but she still didn’t know what. Mei Ling was left confused and frightened.

  “A bribe,” the translator explained. “For a payment he will keep your secret.”

  Understanding rushed in. Of course. The doctor was the same as any government agent.

  Relief and alarm mixed in a peculiar combination. She wouldn’t be deported immediately, but she had no American money.

  “How much?” she asked.

  “I suggest ten dollars,” he replied.

  Mei Ling sucked in her breath at the large amount. “How can I get that?” she asked.

  “You can make promises or provide favors,” he replied.

  She stared at him, confused about what favors or promises she could provide and to whom. Her mind churned, and then a pit of nausea grew with the dawning of understanding: he was suggesting that she give sexual favors.

  “Do I have time to ask my husband for the money?” she implored, though she didn’t know if Kai Li had ten dollars.

  The translator shrugged and shook his head. “It depends on the doctor’s mood. Maybe he needs it tonight, so tomorrow will be too l
ate.”

  Mei Ling nodded, her calm expression belying the emotion churning in her body.

  “If you want to make a bargain, find Sun in the kitchen. He arranges such things. The cost is high, but maybe not as great as the alternative. Good luck.”

  Mei Ling was light-headed before, but now her mind was a misty cloud. She felt the eyes of the stranger in the next bed. Avoiding the woman, she rolled to her side, facing away from the room and toward the wall. She knew what she must do, though she felt ill at the thought of squandering her Ahma’s hard-earned treasure. Mei Ling had no idea of the worth of a gold coin, but she fervently hoped it was enough to buy the doctor’s silence.

  Ever so slowly she inched up the hem of her skirt. When she could reach the pouch, she tried to wiggle her finger into the space between the top hem and her skirt, but it was sewed too tightly. She pressed the stitch between her thumbnail and her finger and rubbed back and forth. Her finger grew sore from the friction, so she switched to another one. Before that finger was in pain the thread was cut in two. She worked at the neighboring stitch, pulling it through the fabric until she could squeeze one coin out of the small space.

  She curled into a ball, studying the gold coin for first time. Its ridged edge surrounded the head of an old woman: Victoria, the former queen of the United Kingdom; she faced sideways, her mature face covered with a crown and a veil. Mei Ling turned the coin over. Her heart sped up when she saw the image on the back: a man on horseback ready to slay a dragon. There were no numbers on the coin besides the date, so she had no idea of the worth in British pounds, let alone American dollars. She prayed it would be enough.

  When the doctor returned, alone, she pressed the coin into his sweaty hand. His lips pulled up into a smile; a glimmer of excitement in his eyes left her with the impression that she had overpaid—perhaps by a lot.

  Within minutes a man led her back to the barracks. The guard spoke no Cantonese and she spoke little English, so there was no way for her to get answers to the questions burning in her. She would simply have to wait to see if the doctor kept his end of the bargain.

  CHAPTER 11

  Angel Island

  June 1923

  Sleep that night was fleeting. An image of Jui Lan’s head bobbing in the salty waves filled the dark of Mei Ling’s mind each time she closed her eyes. Her heart raced in sympathy for what the girl-woman must have felt in her last moments on earth. Mei Ling sat up on her bunk and stared through the mesh-covered window. A small sliver of moon shone in the upper corner. Ahma, Mah-ma, Quan Yin. She longed for them.

  Give me strength . . . and wisdom, she asked.

  She looked at Bo and Siew, pressed closed to each other in one metal bunk. Would they send her back tomorrow—leaving them alone? The deportations happened very quickly, unless there was an appeal. And there was no appeal for a woman’s immorality.

  She had avoided thinking about it in the past, but at some point she was going to leave this island—and would leave Siew and maybe Bo behind.

  Even if the doctor did not report her, she had her interview. Passing would mean she and Bo would be landed—leaving Siew, unless the girl had already passed through customs. Mei Ling forced herself to consider what would happen if she didn’t pass. Bo might be sent back with her or sent to Kai Li . . . or left here alone.

  She resolved to speak with the deaconess to find out what happened to children when a mother was returned to the boat. She had to plan for Bo . . . and for Siew.

  In the morning, despite her exhaustion, Mei Ling put on a calm and cheerful front for the children. A server came to the long table where they were eating their jook—rice porridge.

  “Doctor ordered extra food for the pregnant lady!” he declared as he ceremoniously placed a basket in front of Mei Ling. She looked inside to discover six boiled eggs, three bananas, and an orange!

  The children and June clapped. Mei Ling’s heart soared at the sight of the bounty. Perhaps she hadn’t frittered away Ahma’s money. The doctor was keeping his end of the bargain—and more. She wasn’t being sent away, and she was getting extra nutrition. The spirit in her would grow strong with this sustenance.

  In the middle of their time with Ma Maurer, a guard came and called out June’s name. Mei Ling’s heart hammered in sympathy. It was exciting—everyone was anxious to have their name called—but there was a risk, even for someone like June, who had every reason to be landed. Despite her outward nonchalance, Mei Ling saw fear in her friend’s eyes.

  Though there was nothing she could do for June, Mei Ling was unable to focus on the lesson. The interview reminded her that she had to make preparations for the children when her time came to be deported or landed.

  When the session was over she spoke with the deaconess. The woman told her that Bo was too young to be left on the island alone. Should Mei Ling be sent back Bo would either be sent to Kai Li or returned to the boat with her, but the older woman couldn’t say how each option was determined.

  Ma Maurer confirmed Mei Ling’s suspicion that Siew was considered old enough to be left on the island without an adult in the women’s quarters. Mei Ling decided to ask one of the older ladies to watch over the girl should they be separated before the child was taken off the island. She thought through the faces of the women who had come to the island recently, since they would most likely be here until Siew was landed.

  She would make friends with the kindest one and use some of the bounty from the doctor to entice her to watch out for Siew should they be parted. Mei Ling couldn’t ensure the child’s well-being far into the future, but she could hand her over to the care of another woman. And perhaps that woman would make arrangements for Siew’s future.

  They rushed upstairs when she finished speaking with the deaconess, but June wasn’t back yet. It had only been an hour. Interrogations were rarely that fast.

  Beaming when she returned a few hours later, June declared, “I passed. Like I say I would. I leave on the four o’clock boat.”

  Mei Ling forced a smile. Her throat was tight with emotion. She wanted June to go home, to see her children, but she was going to miss her friend.

  In a rush as she packed, June commanded, “You write this down.”

  Mei Ling pulled out her writing paper.

  “Chinese Presbyterian Church of Oakland at Sixth and Harrison. Every Sunday you can find me there. My home address is 911 Alice Street, Oakland. Like the lady’s name. Very pretty. Only a few blocks from the ferry on Seventh Street. You come see me soon. Don’t forget. Okay?” June ordered.

  Mei Ling bowed, blinking back tears. “You promised Bo and Siew a trip to the tower at the university in Berkeley. I won’t forget. Ever.”

  June bowed back and then opened her arms to hug Mei Ling close.

  “Thank you,” Mei Ling said, swallowing back embarrassing emotions. She rested her head against June’s shoulder.

  “We good ladies must stick together,” June said. Her eyes were shiny too when the women bowed a final goodbye.

  Mei Ling, Bo, and Siew went to the window to watch through the mesh. Eventually June walked outside. They saw her go into the shed to get her belongings and then board the boat. They waved to her as she sailed back to her real life.

  Days later, a guard came to the door and yelled Mei Ling’s name. Her heart sped up. This was it. Her test.

  She took Bo’s hand and waved at Siew. “Come.”

  “No child-en,” the guard said in strangely accented Cantonese.

  Mei Ling’s stomach lurched. She hadn’t left the children since June had departed. They would be alone.

  “I will take good care of Bo!” Siew declared.

  Mei Ling smiled at the little girl. “You are a good big sister. Thank you. Great Auntie is over there if you need anything.”

  Mei Ling pointed to the woman she had arranged to watch over Siew if she was landed soon. Siew smiled. Mei Ling patted the children’s heads and left them.

  With each step her legs and her confidenc
e grew shakier. It was too long ago that she’d studied the book. She had reviewed the information in her mind, but she feared she didn’t remember the details correctly or they were going to ask her a question that wasn’t in the book.

  The guard stopped in a doorway and pointed to a cold and dark room with no natural light. On one side of the metal table sat one White man, a Chinese man, and a White woman who had a machine in front of her.

  “You may sit there.” The interpreter pointed to a seat. “Your file says Cantonese. Is that your preferred language?”

  Mei Ling nodded, extremely grateful that she and Wong Lew She shared a common first tongue. It probably wasn’t a coincidence. The matchmaker had a reputation to uphold.

  The White man opened the file on the table. He asked something in English. The woman typed into the machine, her fingers flying in all directions like a hummingbird.

  The interpreter asked, “Applicant 3-23. Do you understand that you are under oath to speak the truth? If you are found to have perjured yourself, you may be deported or detained by immigration authorities in the United States.”

  Mei Ling nodded again.

  The interpreter admonished, “You must speak so your answers may be recorded.”

  Mei Ling cleared her tight throat. “Yes.”

  “Do you understand that if you do not understand the interpreter you are required to immediately so state?” the interpreter asked.

  Mei Ling started to nod but caught herself and said, “Yes.”

  “Applicant 3-24 is too young to be sworn in,” the Chinese man said, speaking about Bo. Mei Ling started to answer, but the White man spoke again before she could formulate a reply.

  The interpreter asked, “What are all your names?”

  My only name is Mei Ling. She swallowed and said her first lie, “Wong Lew She. No others.” Then she remembered: “I am told I will be Mrs. Chinn in the United States.” Then she added with a bow, “If I meet with your approval.”

  She saw a flicker of a smile cross the inspector’s face.