by Susan Tan
So I made up a story to tell myself. It was about a baby brontosaurus who’s afraid of heights, and whose best friend is a bird. His best friend is kidnapped by pterodactyls, and the brontosaurus has to conquer his fears, and there’s a chase scene, and he saves his friend, and he finds out he’s not really a brontosaurus after all—he’s a baby dragon and has wings. And he and his best friend fly off together, underneath the stars, and they’re very happy. And there’s a car chase, and explosions, and aliens, and …
… and then I fell asleep …
… and woke up to the sound of the telephone ringing.
12
NEW THINGS
Colleen was just starting to wake up when I came running back into her room, so I helped her wake up some more by jumping onto her bed and bouncing.
“My dad just called,” I said, in a low voice, as if it were a secret. “My mom’s having the baby.” And I was surprised, because even though I had a nervous feeling in my stomach, I was smiling too, and Colleen gave me a big hug and started bouncing on the bed with me. And then I told her how I’d heard the phone ring and snuck downstairs, and how her mom had hung up the phone and given me a big hug and told me that my mom was in labor, which means the baby is about to come (even though it’s not Labor Day, which in this case I was VERY HAPPY about).
We ate breakfast in our pajamas (I got to help turn the handle of the waffle machine), and Colleen’s dad made us hot chocolate with whipped cream on top, because he said it was a special occasion. I was a little quiet, but Colleen understood.
After breakfast, Colleen convinced her brother Matt to play at being a baby, and she taught me how to hold him. This was a little hard, because Matt is three and kept getting bored and wiggling and sometimes trying to do a backflip. But playing babies was actually really fun, and Colleen’s mom sat on the couch reading a book, and every once in a while saying things like “Not upside down!” and “Did you just put a diaper on your brother’s head?” (The answer to that question was yes, because Matt still wears diapers, and I wanted to see how they worked, and Colleen thought it would be funny if we practiced by making a hat. Matt liked this too, and didn’t take his hat off for the rest of the morning, and Colleen’s mom sighed and sounded just like my mom, which was funny.) Then Colleen’s other brother, Josh, who’s six, wanted a turn at being the baby, plus the chance to wear a special hat. And then Matt wanted to hold a baby, so we pretended he could hold me, even though I could probably squish him (which I guess really and truly makes me a big kid).
I’d never spent much time playing with Colleen’s brothers (usually we try to hide from them so they won’t interrupt our games), and I was surprised by how much I liked it. I even promised Matt that he could hold a real live baby when my sister came home from the hospital. And when Colleen’s brothers ran off to play a different game (they’re something her mom calls “high energy”), Colleen sat next to me and said, “I didn’t mean to scare you about being a Big Sister and all the Responsibilities. It can be fun. I think you’ll be really good at it.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just put my head on her shoulder, which seemed like enough. And then, all of a sudden, the phone rang again, and Colleen’s mom was shouting, “Cilla, it’s for you!”
* * *
Later that morning, my dad came to get me, just like he’d said he would on the phone. He gave me a big hug and spun me around, and then he carried me to the car, which I let him do even if I am officially a big kid.
We drove to the hospital, which I’m getting to know very well now, and I waved at the window where (I think) my mom’s room was. We went inside, and I didn’t hide my face when the beds with wheels came by.
And when we turned down the hallway to my mom’s room, I held my dad’s hand a bit tighter, because I saw something I’d never seen before—my Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins and my Nai Nai and Ye Ye, all sitting on chairs in the hallway. My Nai Nai and Ye Ye were sitting on one side, talking in Chinese, and my Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins were on the other side, doing a crossword puzzle.
But I didn’t have (too) much time to stop and feel strange about seeing them all there together, because I was too busy running toward them, yelling, “What does she look like? Does she have hair? How much? Can she talk? Is she big? Is she nice?”
“We don’t know,” my Ye Ye said, laughing and giving me a hug.
“You haven’t met her yet?” I asked, confused.
“Why no, Cilla dear,” my Grandma Jenkins said, putting her arm around me. “You’re her big sister. Which means you get to meet her first.”
“Oh,” I said. Suddenly, I felt shy.
“Come on.” My dad put his arm around me. “Your mom’s really excited to see you.”
So we walked into the room. My mom was in bed and looked tired but happy, and she gave me a big hug. And then she kept her arm around me while my dad went over to what I’d thought was a table in the corner, but was really a little basket attached to a table, and he took out what looked like a small, rolled-up blanket. But it was my new little sister.
I sat in one of the hospital chairs, scooched all the way back, with my legs dangling in the air, and my dad put a blanket on my lap. And then he brought the baby over, and I held her, just like Colleen had taught me.
She was much, much smaller than I’d thought she’d be, and her face was all wrinkled and scrunched, which was a bit disappointing. In fact, she WAS like a Blob. She also had more hair than the picture of her in my mom’s stomach had let on, which wasn’t really that fair. But she looked a lot friendlier than she had in that picture too. And she made small sighing noises, and she smelled like powder and clean things.
So even though when my parents asked what I thought I shrugged and said, “She’s okay,” I didn’t give her back right away. I rocked her very gently, like Colleen’s mom had shown me, and I said, “Hello, Blob.” And my dad opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I could see my mom shake her head and give him a Parent Look from across the room, and then he didn’t say anything at all. So it can’t have been that important.
Then, when I was ready, my dad called my grandparents in, and they took turns meeting my new little sister.
My mom and dad were very tired, and my grandparents were busy meeting The Blob and rearranging the flowers on my mom’s window ledge. (This was just Grandma Jenkins, actually. Also, I didn’t bring flowers because I didn’t know you were supposed to, but my mom says that the story I wrote for her was better than flowers, so that was good. It was about a walrus, in the end.)
One of the nurses brought me a Popsicle, which was very nice of her. And it meant I could just sit quietly on the edge of my mom’s bed, eating my Popsicle and holding her hand. She was busy talking to my Grandpa Jenkins and every once in a while saying things like, “Mom, give it a rest,” when my Grandma Jenkins tried to fluff her pillow or organize her bedside table. My dad and Nai Nai spoke quietly in the corner in Chinese, my Nai Nai rocking The Blob, and my Ye Ye came over to sit by me.
“How was the sleepover?” he asked.
“It was fun,” I said softly.
“What did you do?”
“We played games,” I said. “Oh, and we made waffles,” and then I didn’t feel so quiet anymore, and I told him all about Colleen’s house, and the stars, and the dinosaur story (which he liked). I also told him about how Colleen’s mom made vegetable stew, which was delicious, and which reminded me of tzuck sang, which is around when my stomach began to make a rumbling sound, because it had been a while since I’d eaten, and Popsicles aren’t very filling (even if they are delicious).
“You know,” Ye Ye said, looking over at my dad, “Chinatown isn’t very far away. We could get lunch there and celebrate.”
“Yes!” I said, excited. “And we could get tzuck sang, and steamed tofu, and salt and pepper pork, and—”
I stopped suddenly. Because I’d forgotten that it wasn’t just me and my mom and dad and Nai Nai and Ye Y
e. My Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins were there too. And they wouldn’t come to Chinatown, and would they feel left out? The room suddenly felt small, with all those people in it, and kind of quiet, too.
“Would you join us?” Ye Ye turned to them, smiling but with a funny sound to his voice that I realized was his Best Behavior. “We were just talking about taking Cilla to lunch, and Chinatown is very close. Though”—he looked uncertainly at my Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins—“we could go somewhere else too.”
And then all the adults (except for Nai Nai, who was busy kissing The Blob on the cheek) started talking at once.
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude.” (Grandpa Jenkins)
“We would love to have you.” (Ye Ye)
“Kind offer, though.” (Dad)
“… needs our help settling in after all the excitement. Why, the bed’s already come unmade again, and I haven’t seen the nurse for ages…” (Grandma Jenkins)
“You know what?” Mom spoke the loudest of them all. “You should ALL go.”
“But—” my dad started.
“I’m exhausted, Nathan. I’m just going to sleep,” my mom interrupted him. “You should go and be with everyone.” And just then my Grandma Jenkins started refolding the blankets at the end of my mom’s bed, and my mom gave my Dad a look that made him say “Okay” very fast.
Which is how I ended up in Chinatown with my dad, my Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins, AND my Nai Nai and Ye Ye.
13
SURPRISES
I didn’t know how to feel about this.
I leaned against my dad’s arm and rested my head on his shoulder, while Ye Ye explained the menu to Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins. I was glad that no one was talking to me. Because even though I was with some of the people I love most and know best in the whole world, things didn’t feel right. What if Ye Ye slurped his soup, or Grandma Jenkins asked for a fork, or Grandpa Jenkins thought the food was gross? What were we all going to talk about, and what if I was different around each of them? What if Nai Nai and Ye Ye didn’t like the jokes I told around Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins, or Grandma and Grandpa Jenkins didn’t like the games I played with Nai Nai and Ye Ye, like making chopstick holders, or being silly with the spinning circle in the middle of the table?
And even though I’d spent all that time wishing my grandparents could be together, I suddenly wished I could just be with my mom and dad, but not in the hospital, at home …
When suddenly, I heard my Grandma Jenkins say something in a loud, happy voice—something that wasn’t English, but wasn’t Chinese, either.
“Escargot! What a treat.”
I looked up. She and my Ye Ye were smiling about something.
“What’s that?” I asked, suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s something you can get in Chinatown, Grandma?”
“Escargot,” my grandma said excitedly, “is one of my favorite foods, and it’s French for snails. Now I know it sounds odd,” she said quickly, “but it’s really quite delicious.”
“Oh,” my dad said, patting my back and smiling, “Cilla’s had snails before.”
“Really?” Grandma Jenkins said. “I’m impressed, Cilla. That’s a very sophisticated dish. I’m excited to try the Chinese version.”
“Oh” was all I could say.
“Well, if you like snails, you should try…,” my Nai Nai cut in. And then she and my grandma started talking about the menu, and they both seemed much more like they normally do, even if they were also a little too polite. And my Grandma Jenkins did an EXCELLENT job pretending to be interested when my Nai Nai suggested we get beef intestines soup. (We didn’t order that one in the end, which I think was a good choice.) While they talked, my dad leaned over to my Grandpa Jenkins and whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll get pork fried rice too,” and Grandpa looked so relieved that I giggled.
Ye Ye ordered for us all in Chinese, and it turns out that Grandpa Jenkins can use chopsticks, which was very impressive. And even though Grandma Jenkins doesn’t know how to use them, she loved the chopstick holders we made and asked me to teach her how to fold one.
When the food came, my Nai Nai piled my plate high with white rice and tzuck sang like she always does. And then she stopped with her chopsticks halfway out to another dish, and turned to me, with her eyebrow raised and a question on her face.
I smiled and said, “Yes, please,” and Nai Nai gave me a big smile back. And soon we were all happily eating our lunch of rice, tofu, salt and pepper pork, beef with bitter melon, tzuck sang, and snails.
Grandpa Jenkins ate mostly fried rice, though he did try the tzuck sang and liked it. (He wouldn’t try the snails, but I told him not to worry—tastes change, after all. His just weren’t sophisticated enough yet.) And even though Grandma Jenkins raised her eyebrows when Ye Ye picked up his soup bowl and slurped, she didn’t say anything, and when my Grandpa Jenkins put soy sauce all over his fried rice, Nai Nai acted like she hadn’t seen him do it.
After lunch, we went back to the hospital to see my mom. She and The Blob have to stay there for a few more days, which is sad. But my dad was coming home with me, which was EXCELLENT news.
My grandparents started saying goodbye, and my dad said I could hold The Blob again, so I went back to the chair, with the blanket on my lap, and took another look at my little sister. She stared back up at me with tiny eyes and round cheeks that were soft and smooth when I touched them with my finger.
And I was surprised, because she really didn’t seem all that bad.
But as I looked up from The Blob’s scrunched-up face, out the open door of my mom’s hospital room, I saw something that surprised me even more.
I saw my Nai Nai and my Grandma Jenkins standing in the hallway, and I saw my Nai Nai whisper something to my Grandma Jenkins. Grandma Jenkins nodded and whispered something back. Then they walked away from the door and down the hall, their heads close together.
I watched them go. And even though this is what I’ve wanted all along, I didn’t feel happy.
I felt sad.
I’ve always wanted my family to be a family, a real one that spends time together and talks and whispers and goes to lunch.
But no matter how much I’ve wanted this, or how many stories I’ve told to each of my grandparents about how great the others are, the two sides of my family have always stayed far apart. So I thought that was just how they were meant to be.
But it turns out now that isn’t true. It turns out that my family can be together. I just wasn’t enough, on my own, to make this happen. I’m their granddaughter, and a future author extraordinaire, and a Lee-Jenkins.
But it took The Blob to make my family want to be a family.
So I watched my grandmas go, and there was something tight and sad inside my throat. But I had another surprise, because just then, The Blob made a soft, sighing sound, and I looked down.
And even though I was still sad, and worried about having to share my family and my house and my toys, I looked at The Blob and realized that maybe my little sister will never have to draw a family picture like the one I drew. Maybe the people in her portrait will stay together on the page.
And this made me want to hold my sister a little tighter, and a little longer. Which seemed to be okay with her, because she smiled, and then right before my eyes, and in my arms, fell asleep. Which was nice. (She snores too, apparently, which also made me giggle, but quietly, so I wouldn’t wake her up. I’m a good Big Sister that way.)
* * *
That night, I said goodbye to my mom and The Blob, and got in the car with my dad, to finally—after three whole days—go home. And even though I was still feeling confused and a little sad, as the car turned on and started to make rumbling noises, I realized that I was tired, too. So I closed my eyes, and I could smell the good smells coming from the bag of leftovers, which Nai Nai had insisted we take home. And as I fell asleep, I told myself another story. This time not a made-up story, but a real-life one—about going home, about my dad tucking me
into bed, and about the delicious lunch I would eat the next day, of tzuck sang and escargot.
14
TRADITIONS
We have a lot of traditions in my family, and several have changed since The Blob came home. For example, my dad and I used to cook breakfast for my mom on Sundays. Then we’d all eat breakfast in their bed, and then my dad would take me to the park to play. My mom and I would go grocery shopping on the weekends too, and our grocery store is AMAZING because kids get a free cookie at the bakery from a woman named Donna, and I’d get to push the shopping cart before it got too heavy.
But now that The Blob’s here, my dad was too tired on Sunday to go to the park or to cook, and so we just had cereal, but my mom didn’t eat with us because The Blob started crying. And my dad went to the grocery store on his way home from work, because my mom was too tired to go (which is a big theme in our house lately). So I didn’t get to go with him, or get a cookie, or say hello to Donna.
There are also new traditions about sleep and noise (there’s a lot less sleep and I have to make a lot less noise, which doesn’t seem fair since The Blob makes SO MUCH of it). There’s also the tradition of changing diapers, which is interesting and happens on a special table but makes some TERRIBLE smells. I’m hoping that one doesn’t last long.
But there are some nice new traditions too. For example, every morning I get to help dress The Blob (and she looks AMAZING. My general rule is that she should be wearing as many colors and patterns as possible.). And, BEST of all, my mom and dad have told me that because I’m being so great about helping, they’re going to change the no-sugary-breakfast-cereal rule. The next time they go to the grocery store, they’re going to buy me a box of Choco-Rex that’s ALL for me, and I can eat it WHENEVER I WANT. This has been maybe the most exciting part about being a Big Sister so far.