by Hiromi Goto
Gee stared at his beloved grandmother’s face. Her eyes were closed and something twitched in her temple. He gently placed his slender hand on Popo’s forearm.
“It is nothing, child,” she said quietly, without opening her eyes. “Popo just feels a little tired today. Please get some water.”
Gee knew she didn’t mean a bottle of water from the store. Without bothering to remove his downstairs shoes he ran up the steep, narrow back steps, taking three at a time, to their living space above the shop. In the small neat kitchen he half-filled an empty jam jar with lukewarm water from the kettle.
Popo’s hands trembled, ever so slightly, when she raised them. Gee watched the thin skin in her neck move as she swallowed the water. The lines upon her cheeks, the wrinkled ridges on the bridge of her nose, the corners of her eyes. The slight tremor in her hands….
Something torqued inside his chest.
She was old.
Gee took a step backward. How could he not have seen it before? How long had she been this way? Something bulged and twisted, an emotion he could not name—only that it was unpleasant, and that he didn’t like to feel it. He quickly quashed whatever it was and returned to the grey neutrality he preferred.
“Those ignorant boys.” Ms. Carlson shook her head as she set down soy milk and tofu on the counter. “Are you all right, Ms. Wei?” The kind librarian’s voice quavered. “Are you okay, dear? They were just dreadful!”
Gee’s popo waved her right hand, letting it flap up and down. “Ms. Wei has seen far worse. Ms. Wei only feels a stitch from running.” She managed a fierce smile before closing her eyes.
That odd little emotion spasmed inside Gee’s chest once more.
“We can call the cops!” the Neo Goth girl said indignantly. “There are anti-hate laws! We don’t have to just take it. We can—”
“No police.” Popo’s voice was resolute.
The Neo Goth girl scowled. “How can you let them treat you like that? How can you just let them win?” She glared at Gee as if it were somehow his fault, but he kept his face averted. “They’ll just do it again with someone else. Unless they’re stopped. Unless they’re taught a lesson!”
No one responded.
Shaking her head, the girl marched out of the store, the many buckles on her boots jangling loudly. She closed the door so hard that the plate-glass window shook.
“Oh dear,” Ms. Carlson sighed. “Such an afternoon it’s become.” She shook her head sadly and peered at his popo’s face with something like compassion. Something like pity. And then her gaze turned toward Gee’s face. The moment she caught his eyes, she jerked her head the other way.
Gee rang her purchases through the till. “Five dollars and thirty-five cents, please.”
Chapter Two
Gee stared at his plate, the eggs scrambled with diced mushrooms and spinach and drizzled with soy sauce. The clink of Popo’s chopsticks and the sound of her slow chewing seemed too loud. Rain pattered against the windows.
Popo flipped a page of the book she was reading and held it down with her left wrist, her chopsticks in her right hand. She stopped chewing for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she read a passage. She laughed aloud, then resumed chewing once more.
Gee stared at his mug of clear chicken broth. It had grown cold and a wrinkled skin of fat floated at the surface. He hadn’t brought a book to the table.
After Gee had entered kindergarten he’d stopped talking so much, even at home. His sister had already left, choosing to live on campus. And Ms. Wei was no stranger to silence. So they often read books while they ate their meals, sometimes silently pointing to a page to share interesting tidbits. A brief flash of a smile.
Gee gazed at his bowl of rice, cooked with too much water. The scrambled eggs, the broth, the soft rice….
There used to be juicy steak, crisp gai lan, whole steamed crab. Crunchy stir-fried broccoli with fresh water chestnuts, tonkatsu and bamboo shoots. Asparagus sautéed in sesame oil, chewy king oyster mushrooms and plump, firm prawns. His mind’s eye flickered from images of meals past through to what meals had come to be.
It wasn’t that Ms. Wei was trying to save money.
Everything on the plate now was soft….
“Not hungry, Grandson?” Popo asked gently.
Gee picked up his bowl of rice and scooped some grains into his mouth with the chopsticks. It took a long time to chew the small portion, to swallow.
The old woman’s eyes widened and she stuck her hand into her sweater pocket. She pulled out a worn postcard and held it toward her grandson. “Look what Popo found in the mailbox!”
He let his chopsticks clatter upon his plate.
The postcard felt silky. On its front was an old illustration of some kind of tropical lizard. He turned it over and recognized his sister’s messy scrawl. A Peruvian stamp. Postcard in hand, he left the dining room table to put the kettle on the stove and tap out brown twiggy stems of tea into the pot. He read the message in the kitchen while he waited for the water to boil.
Ola. The dig goes well but staking pain every day.
Have they taught you about irony in school? (If not, watch the original Twilight Zone television program.)
Be well.
M.
Gee read it twice, then tucked it into the back pocket of his worn jeans.
She never left a return address.
He rarely thought of her as Melanie…. It seemed at once too familiar and too distancing to think of his adopted sister by her first name.
He took the tea out to his grandmother and she nodded her thanks.
They sipped noisily, the nutty brown aroma filling the quiet night.
“Popo,” Gee finally said.
“Yes, Grandson.”
“Is there a way to contact Older Sister?”
“There is no need to contact Older Sister.”
“But what if there’s an emergency?”
“If there is a need, Older Sister will know to return.” His popo’s tone was final.
Frustration roiled inside of him. There were so many things unsaid. How would Older Sister know when to return? Why was Popo so certain? What did she know that she wouldn’t tell him, had never told him?
“That girl was right, you know,” Gee muttered.
“What? Speak more clearly!” Popo exclaimed.
“That girl, today, in the store. She’s right. We shouldn’t have let those shits win!”
Gee wrapped his long fingers around his cup, glowered at the brown tea. The heat through the ceramic made his skin feel moist, slightly sticky. He could feel his grandmother’s gaze.
“You are troubled, Grandson,” Popo said gently.
Gee stared into the woody brownness of his tea. The reflection of his long pale face rippled. He did not like how it looked.
He could feel his grandmother’s concern, and resentment churned inside him. “There’re just so many things that aren’t spoken, Popo.” He looked up, flipping his hair to the side so that his dark eyes were exposed. He stared, hard, into his grandmother’s eyes, and she met his gaze fully. The only person who ever could. “How will Older Sister know when she’s needed? Why can’t we call the police to report on those jerks from school? What do we have to hide?”
Popo swept the last grains of rice into her mouth and set her chopsticks down. “Why ask these questions now, Grandson?” She sipped her nutty aromatic tea, slurping loudly as if nothing troubled her.
“Because you’re old,” Gee said flatly. “You’re old, and without you, I have no one. No one to answer my questions.”
Popo sighed. She rubbed her palms over her closed eyelids then set her hands upon her lap. “Popo has not had a girlfriend for a long time.” She smiled as she shook her head. “And her siblings are a bunch of old homophobes. Indeed, Grandson. We are a very small family.”
Gee had the grace to look away.
Popo’s last girlfriend, Glenna, had moved out when he was eight years old. Glenna and Popo had qu
arrelled. About what, he didn’t know, but he was upset with Glenna and had stared at her every time Popo wasn’t in the room. On the seventh day, behind closed doors, Glenna had told Popo she had to choose between her and Gee. Don’t force me to choose, Popo had said. Glenna had chosen for her.
A wave of guilt lapped at Gee’s consciousness. Was it his fault that they were so isolated? Was it his fault that his popo didn’t have a girlfriend? That Older Sister never came home?
You know it is, his dark inside voice crooned. Whose else could it be? Your grandmother’s? She’s the only one who loves you. And once she’s gone, you’re going to be utterly alone, with no way of knowing who or what you truly are. Disconnected from your past, nothing in your future. Oh, boo hoo hoo!
Gee quelled the darker feelings, pushing them deep inside him.
Popo looked sad and tired. It made her look even older.
“I’m sorry, Popo,” Gee muttered.
She shook her head. “No need to apologize for asking questions, Grandson. Questions are good. But not yet…. Not ready, yet.”
“Who’s not ready for what?” A stickiness caught in the back of his throat. He could scarcely swallow.
Popo looked up briefly to rest her gaze upon the row of bookshelves just beyond Gee’s head.
He twisted around. What was she looking at? He scanned the neat rows of books on the shelves along the wall. A small white sculpture sat upon an ancient tome that was set horizontally atop several vertically placed books. The edges of the sculpture were worn smooth with age, but there was something vaguely catlike about the shape. Gee had never noticed it before. Odd, he thought. Popo seldom bought things unless they were food items or books. And she always placed the books vertically on the shelves.
He turned back toward his grandmother, but she was no longer looking at the shelf. She held her cup inside her palms as if reading her fortune in the tea.
“Not tonight,” Popo finally said. “Soon. Popo will tell Grandson everything, soon.”
“Really?” Gee’s heart thudded slowly, heavily. His palms, sticky. He didn’t know if what he felt was excitement or fear.
She smiled. A small, tired, sad smile. Gee had never seen such a look on her face before.
“But tonight Popo will go to sleep early. Popo still feels a stitch in her side from running.” She shook her head. “To think Ming Wei used to win the running races on sports day,” she muttered on the way to the washroom.
Gee watched her as she walked away, the slight curve in her back, her short iron-grey hair. The bathroom door clicked shut. He stacked the dishes and carried them to the sink. As he scraped the food he couldn’t eat into the compost container, the skin on the right side of his neck prickled. A flash of white in the corner of his eye. Gee whipped his head around. But he could see nothing through the open kitchen doorway. Nothing but the table as he’d left it, the shelves of books behind it. He heard the toilet flushing, and his popo making her way to her bedroom. The creak of her bed.
It was only 8:25 P.M. Popo usually read or wrote until 11 P.M. Thoughtfully, Gee began filling the sink with warm water. Never mind, he told himself. She said she was tired, that’s all. She would get a good sleep, and then tomorrow he would find out everything.
And what then? his darkness asked gleefully. Once you know the truth about your past, what will you do? Gee’s heartbeat was slow and heavy; it never quickened when he was excited. Something remarkable, he thought. Something special. He wasn’t like everyone else—he knew that very well, and he didn’t lie to himself about it. That something awaited him he had no doubt. For he’d felt it his entire life, and maybe that was part of the disquiet.
Nervous excitement followed Gee to his room, and he could neither read a book nor go online. So he flopped back on his narrow bed, his hands clasped behind his head, his long limbs sprawling. He wondered how things would have been different if he looked more like his grandmother and sister.
He used to be filled with awe and wonder at his adventurous, enigmatic sister. The archaeological work she did during graduate school had her travelling to distant countries. She’d return on her annual visit with brown roughened skin and remarkable tales of ancient civilizations. She was a quiet and sober person. But when she smiled a light shone from her face, golden and warm. That she adored their grandmother was obvious. But if she loved their popo so much, why had she stopped visiting?
For a while Gee had imagined that Older Sister was actually his mother, and that she’d had him as a result of a teen pregnancy. But as he grew bigger and out of baby chubbiness, his features changed dramatically. He could very well see that Older Sister had no blood connection to him. Gee could also see that Older Sister and Popo were Asian, and that he was not. He didn’t know what he was. Popo had never told him. Gee had never asked.
There were a lot of things that were left unspoken. When he was still little, when he was still called Baby G, he came to the realization that something had happened to Older Sister. Something bad. What that something was his popo had never shared, but Gee could feel the power of it, so enormous that he didn’t want to know its name.
Because you know it has something to do with you, the little awful voice inside him sniggered. His faithful companion, his own little Mr. Hyde.
He’d never told Popo…. Because how could he ever tell her what it felt like? The nasty things he thought. Gee trembled. The edges of darkness were mysterious, tantalizing, delicious….
He covered his eyes with his thin forearm. “No,” he whispered.
He did not know what he denied. But he could feel it lodged inside his chest, a foreign organ beside his heart.
Did you think your precious Popo would be there forever? the dark little voice jeered. She’s an old, old woman. Those kids did you a favour. Made you finally see!
Gee yanked his arm away from his eyes and sat upright. If his grandmother died, what would happen to him?
She’s not your real grandmother anyway. What does it matter?
“Stop it,” Gee said. His heart began its loud slow thudding as the edges of a monstrous fear began to expand inside his chest. He rubbed his palm over his skinny ribs and took deep breaths. He swallowed his fear.
CRASH!
The sound shattered the night. Gee sat, stunned, for several seconds—and then leapt off the bed. He dashed past his grandmother’s door just as she was opening it. Gee snatched up the field hockey stick that was propped in the corner by the entrance door and pounded down the creaky wooden steps to the store.
“Gee!” Popo called. “Come back!”
The store was dark. But the orange lights from the street glinted through the cracked window, the wet night air entering through the large hole in the glass. The revving of an engine. Gee watched coolly as the red taillights of a yellow Hummer screeched around the corner with the stink of burning rubber. A Hummer, he noted, was not an inconspicuous getaway vehicle.
The ceiling lights clicked on. A fragment of glass fell from the broken window and crashed on the floor. In the midst of the shards lay a large rock.
“Same old tricks,” Popo muttered. Sighing, she sat down on the step where she’d been standing.
Gee glanced at her. She hadn’t even reminded him to wear his shoes. He retrieved his runners that were in the stairway and slipped them on. His grandmother remained seated. Gee had to walk across broken glass, the shards crunching beneath him. The beautiful window was ruined, and it would be expensive to replace.
“Popo, will insurance pay to fix this?”
Popo was rubbing her palms over her face. “Only if it is reported.”
“Then report it, Popo,” Gee said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“No trouble.”
“Look, Popo. Trouble came to us anyway. We can’t just hide here, staying away from trouble!”
“Gee.” Popo was almost pleading.
Gee was shocked.
“Gee is almost finished high school. Let Gee
finish high school first, then….”
“What! What is it! We can’t avoid things until I’m finished high school.” Realization washed over him. “Wait a minute. You don’t mean to say that you’re not going to tell me about my past until I graduate from high school!”
“Gee,” his grandmother begged. “Popo has thought about these things. She has! But sometimes if information comes too soon, if information is given before its time, it can distort. It can break. It can destroy. These things Popo has weighed, and that is why she has not told Grandson yet.”
“It’s that bad….” Gee whispered.
“No! Not—” Popo began.
“DON’T LIE, ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE!” Gee screamed.
Popo recoiled as if she’d been slapped.
Gee clapped his hands over his mouth, his large dark eyes filling his face. Where had that rage come from? What was he doing? Self-loathing swept over him, but it wasn’t strong enough to drown the dark voice inside.
She deserves it, the stupid lying bitch.
No, Gee thought. No. He could not bear it. What it was he couldn’t say, but it felt as if his head would explode. He unlocked the door and ran into the wet night.
Popo did not call him back.
Chapter Three
Gee walked for hours, drenched, until the sun began to rise. He finally looked up and saw that he’d made an enormous rectangle and was close to an all-night diner near their neighbourhood. He was cold and wet, though these sensations didn’t bother him so much. They stiffened his joints, but it wasn’t painful. He moved slowly.
He realized his hand was clenched around something inside one of his pockets. He drew it out. A wet five-dollar bill. He would go to the diner and get a cup of tea until it was time for Rainbow Market to open. He didn’t have his keys, and there was no point in waking Popo after such a night….
Gee stared at the crumpled bill. Would Popo be mad at him? Was he mad at Popo? He didn’t know what he felt. It was all muddled and he didn’t like it. He liked being able to control his feelings.