The Tiger Mom's Tale

by Lyn Liao Butler

  “You’ve come all this way. You said you wanted to see Baba’s things, to see pictures. I’m sorry for my mother.” Hsu-Ling turned to her, apology written all over her face.

  “Don’t apologize for her. Maybe we can come back later, when she’s not home,” Lexa said.

  Before the others could answer, the door to the apartment suddenly opened again and Pin-Yen strode out, carrying a large tote bag. She swept by the trio and addressed Hsu-Ling only.

  “I’m going out. Let me know when they leave.” And with that, she marched to the gate and walked out, letting the gate slam behind her.

  Maddie raised her eyebrows. “She likes to slam doors. But I guess the coast is clear.”

  They walked to the apartment, and as they crossed the threshold, Lexa found herself holding her breath. She almost expected her father to come striding out to greet them like he had the very first time she’d come to visit. But the apartment was silent, and she went through the foyer into the living room and stood in the center, looking around.

  Like the courtyard, everything was so familiar, yet with slight differences and updates. If she squinted, she could almost imagine it was the last time she’d been here and her father was in the next room, getting ready to take her and Hsu-Ling on an adventure around Taichung. She could almost smell the dua mee gee noodle soup that Pin-Yen was known for, and hear her fourteen-year-old self and Hsu-Ling giggling together on the blue couch, huddled over a photo album of their father and Pin-Yen’s wedding.

  “Is that the same blue couch you had all those years ago?” Lexa turned to Hsu-Ling, who was still standing in the foyer.

  “No. But Baba loved that couch so much he found one almost like it to replace it.”

  Lexa walked over to the living room wall and reached out to touch the velvety texture of the tan damask-print wallpaper. “But this is the same wallpaper, isn’t it?”

  Hsu-Ling nodded. “Mama hates that wallpaper. She was always after Baba to replace it or to rip it down and paint the room white. But Baba said it was home to him and didn’t want to take it down. And now that he’s dead, she wants to keep it exactly the way it was when he was alive.”

  “I can’t believe it’s still here after all these years.”

  Lexa turned around in a circle, taking in the shrine with the statues of gods and goddesses, and noticed that a recent picture of her father had been hung next to a picture of their ah-gong, as well as her father’s grandparents. She stood in front of the shrine and brought her hands up in prayer, bowing her head and closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should say something, so she remained silent, trying to absorb that she was really standing here in her father’s home after all these years.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Maddie looking at her. For once, Maddie kept her mouth shut, and for that Lexa was grateful. She needed time to allow her mind to catch up to the fact that she was back in her father’s home. Lexa wandered around the apartment, walking into her old room, staring at the bamboo bed, and wondering if it was the same one she’d slept on. She went from room to room, only pausing briefly at Pin-Yen and her father’s door out of respect for Pin-Yen’s privacy, although she wished she could look in her father’s closet and see his belongings, touch his clothes.

  When she got back to the living room, Hsu-Ling asked her, “Are you okay?”

  Lexa smiled and nodded. “It’s just so strange to be back here without him.”

  Hsu-Ling’s expression turned sober. “I know. It’s hard for me to come home now, knowing he’ll never be here again.” She darted a glance at Lexa and then said, “Are you ready to go see Ah-Ma? She’s waiting for us upstairs.”

  Lexa took in a breath. “Yes. I don’t know why I’m so nervous to see her.”

  “Don’t be nervous. She’s been waiting impatiently for you to come back.” Hsu-Ling led the way out of the apartment and up the concrete steps to the second floor, with Lexa behind her and Maddie trailing silently at the tail. Hsu-Ling knocked lightly on the door and then opened it.

  “Ah-Ma?” she called into the apartment. “We’re here!”

  Lexa had only a moment to register the strong smell of incense that wafted out of the apartment before a small figure unfolded itself from a chair in the main room and rushed toward Lexa, her arms outstretched.

  “Chi-ah! You’re finally home.” Ah-Ma spoke in Taiwanese, but for some reason, Lexa understood. She found herself enveloped in Ah-Ma’s arms, her face buried in her grandmother’s shoulder, and breathed in a combination of mothballs, tiger balm, and an herby scent that emanated from Ah-Ma.

  Lexa held still, listening to Ah-Ma speaking in Taiwanese and wishing again she could understand. When Ah-Ma finally pulled back, she studied Lexa’s face intently.

  Hsu-Ling translated for her. “She’s saying you still have an auspicious nose. It’s nice and rounded at the bottom, like the Taiwan wax apple. She’s happy you didn’t lose your nose when you grew up.” Lexa heard Maddie stifle a snort of laughter behind her and felt her own lips twitch in response.

  Ah-Ma next focused on Lexa’s ears and continued speaking in Taiwanese. “And your earlobes are still big and fat, signifying good fortune and a good life.”

  “I always thought big earlobes just meant you could have multiple earrings,” Maddie said. Lexa smiled at her words, even as she glowed inside from Ah-Ma’s attention.

  Ah-Ma finally let go of Lexa, and Lexa pulled Maddie next to her.

  “Ah-Ma, this is my American sister, Maddie.”

  “Welcome, welcome.” Ah-Ma spoke one of the few English words she knew, smiling widely and patting Maddie on the arm.

  “Thanks for having me, Ah-Ma,” Maddie said, her voice at a reverent pitch.

  They smiled at each other, and then Ah-Ma clapped her hands and spoke in Mandarin. “Lai, lai, chi fan.”

  Lexa turned to Maddie. “Are you hungry? She wants us to eat.”

  “She’s been making dumplings in anticipation of your visit,” Hsu-Ling said. “Ah-Ma makes the best dumplings. When we were younger, we’d have these big dumpling-making parties. All the cousins and aunts would gather here in Ah-Ma’s kitchen, and we’d make huge batches of dumplings to freeze so we could have them anytime. We’d create an assembly line—one person rolled out the disc, someone else would put the filling on the wrapper, another would pinch it shut. We’d fight over who got to mix the meat and vegetable mixture.” Hsu-Ling smiled. “The boy cousins always got into dough fights, throwing bits of dough at each other until Ah-Ma scolded them and made them make tea for the rest of us.”

  “That sounds like so much fun.” Lexa bit her bottom lip, feeling a swell of emotion at all she’d missed over the years with her grandmother and the rest of the family.

  “She can teach you how to make them. She makes different kinds, with pork or chicken with chives and leeks, or even all vegetarian ones.”

  “That would be amazing.” Lexa turned to Maddie. “We could make them at home with Mom.”

  Maddie nodded. “I can’t wait to taste Ah-Ma’s dumplings.”

  Ah-Ma bustled into the kitchen, still a spry figure despite her age. Lexa stared after her and felt a lump in her throat as she watched this tiny woman, who was her father’s mother, turn on a big pot of water for the dumplings. Her hair was now snow white, caught back in a low bun, and her hands were slightly gnarled from arthritis and riddled with blue veins. But her grip was strong and sure as she pulled out soy sauce, Chinese barbecue sauce, and a pot of homemade hot sauce. Lexa walked into the cluttered kitchen, crowded with a variety of jars, tins, and containers filled with all sorts of mysterious items on the countertops and on the open shelves. She remembered the day Ah-Ma had taught them how to make tea eggs. She leaned over and kissed Ah-Ma on the cheek, marveling at her surprisingly smooth skin.

  “I’m so happy to see you again, Ah-Ma. Thank you for having us here,” she sai
d in Mandarin.

  “Aiya!” Ah-Ma clucked her tongue. “You are my granddaughter. You are always welcome in my home.” She set the sauces on the counter and turned to cup a hand around Lexa’s cheek. “Took you long enough to come back, huh?”

  Lexa dropped her gaze, embarrassed. Standing in front of her grandmother, it did seem foolish that she hadn’t been back in all these years.

  “Never mind,” Ah-Ma said. “You’re here now. And hopefully, it will help your father to rest.” She gave a shiver and bowed her head for a moment. “His ghost lingers because he is greatly upset by the rift in his family. He died trying to get to you, to make right what his wife did wrong.” She gave Lexa’s cheek a pat and then dropped her hand, turning back to the sauces lined up on the counter. “He’s unable to go in peace to the afterlife. I know he would be so happy that you are finally back where you belong.”

  “Thank you, Ah-Ma,” Lexa said softly.

  Lexa stood next to her grandmother and watched her drop the dumplings into the boiling water, stirring them briefly so they wouldn’t stick together. And she listened as Ah-Ma showed her how to make a dumpling sauce, adding soy sauce, sesame oil, a big heaping spoonful of the Chinese barbecue sauce, and hot sauce, and stirring it around until it became a fragrant mixture that had Maddie leaning forward to get a better whiff.

  They sat at Ah-Ma’s table when the dumplings were done, and for a few moments, the only sounds in the kitchen were of them picking up the dumplings with chopsticks (even Maddie managed to spear one without it flying across the room), dipping them into the sauce, and bringing them to their waiting mouths. Maddie moaned out loud in pleasure at her first bite, causing Ah-Ma to smile widely at her.

  Lexa couldn’t speak. Her mouth was full, the delicately seasoned pork mixing with the strong flavor of the chives and brought together by the slightly spicy, tangy sauce, and she swore it was the best thing she’d ever had. Dumplings in America couldn’t even compare. The wrapper was just chewy enough to offer a contrast to the flavorful filling, and she couldn’t stop eating.

  By the time they pushed back their plates and leaned back in their chairs, Ah-Ma had already placed a dish of the Taiwanese wax apples that she’d mentioned earlier in front of them. Maddie picked up one of the pink and white fruits and studied it.

  “I’ve never seen such a pretty fruit,” she said. “So this is what your nose looks like, huh?” She held up the wax apple next to Lexa’s nose and peered at both.

  “Very funny.” Lexa swatted away Maddie’s hand while Ah-Ma laughed, seeming not to have any problems with the language barrier.

  They each picked up a piece of the fruit that Ah-Ma sliced right at the table with a small paring knife, and when Lexa bit into the dense, juicy body, a memory of her father giving her this fruit the first time she was in Taiwan flashed before her eyes. It was a fleeting memory of them in a produce market, brought back only by the flavor in her mouth. Before she could focus on it, it disappeared.

  “What’s the matter?” Hsu-Ling asked. Ah-Ma was also looking at her in concern.

  Lexa swallowed her bite. “I was just thinking of Baba, of how I don’t have many memories of him. I keep thinking I remember something, but it slips away before I can bring it all back.”

  Ah-Ma looked at her for a moment. “Do you want to know about your baba?”

  “Yes. I really do.”

  Ah-Ma stood and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  She shuffled into the bedroom and returned in a moment with a large photo album. “Hsu-Ling, can you get the rest from the shelf? You know where they are.”

  Hsu-Ling walked out of the kitchen, and Ah-Ma settled back at the table and opened the album in front of Lexa. The album was old, the photos all black-and-white, but Lexa could see they’d been well taken care of and preserved.

  Ah-Ma pointed to a picture of a little baby lying on his stomach with a hand propped under his chin. The baby had an enormous head. “That’s your baba.”

  “I had a giant head too when I was a baby.” Lexa smiled to see the resemblance to her own baby pictures.

  Hsu-Ling came back with a few albums stacked in her arms, and Maddie helped her put them on the table. Ah-Ma sat back in her own chair as Lexa continued to stare at her father’s baby pictures.

  “Your father was my firstborn child. A male, which is cause for much celebration. It had been a difficult birth—I mean, just look at that head! But the moment I held him in my arms, he placed a hand right over my heart as if reassuring me he was there. I knew this boy would always take care of me and his family . . .”

  46

  Lexa stood in the foyer of her father’s apartment and greeted her father’s family as they came in. She knew some of her cousins from Facebook, but really, they were all strangers. They came up to her, one or two at a time, and exchanged a few awkward words. Hsu-Ling stood next to her, explaining who everyone was and how he or she was related to Lexa. One of the last guests to arrive was a man about their age with broad shoulders and dark-rimmed glasses that gave him an air of intelligence. Hsu-Ling introduced him simply as Kuan-Yu, and Lexa looked at her with curiosity, especially when the man placed his hand at Hsu-Ling’s waist and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  Lexa was distracted by the arrival of the nun who would be reading sutras for their father and Pong’s final prayer ceremony. After Hsu-Ling introduced her, Lexa went into the apartment to find Maddie. Pin-Yen rushed over to greet the nun. Lexa did her best to ignore the older woman. This was a day to honor her father and to remember him, and she wasn’t going to let anyone distract her.

  Ah-Ma came to Lexa’s side and, with a hand on her arm, walked her over to the shrine where more pictures of her father and Pong were hung. Lexa stared at a recent photo of her baba, his face so much older than she remembered in her mind. She reached out and grasped Ah-Ma’s hands carefully in her own, feeling her grandmother’s papery-thin skin. While Ah-Ma’s face was relatively unlined, her hands and arms were covered in wrinkles, with age spots dotting her skin.

  “His ghost mourns for you, his lost daughter. But you are back, and maybe now he can finally cross over and be at peace.” Ah-Ma closed her eyes and began to pray, her lips moving soundlessly.

  Lexa turned away to give her privacy and focused on the offerings laid out at the shrine. Oranges, Chinese apples, melons, and other fruits she didn’t recognize; bowls of rice with meat; plates of vegetables and tofu; and cookies and numerous desserts were set out for her father and Pong. There was incense burning in urns, and when Ah-Ma was done with her prayer, she let go of Lexa’s hand to retrieve fresh sticks.

  She handed Hsu-Ling three incense sticks and then gave Lexa the same. The two sisters stood in front of their father’s picture. Lexa held up the incense in front of her chest, knowing she was supposed to pray to him or offer a blessing. But all she could think was, I miss you. I wish you hadn’t died before we could have seen each other again. She bowed three times before placing the sticks in the urn with her left hand. Bringing her hands together, she bowed one last time.

  Ah-Ma handed three sticks to Maddie and gestured toward the shrine. Maddie didn’t hesitate and followed Hsu-Ling’s and Lexa’s lead. The nun handed out books, and Hsu-Ling said, “Don’t worry that you can’t read it. Just listen.” And when the nun started chanting sutras and her relatives joined in, following along in the books, Lexa stood with her head bowed, letting the singsong chants wash over her. She closed her eyes and brought a picture of her father into her mind.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I’ve never seen so much food in my life,” Maddie moaned, holding her stomach. “How do you people stay so thin? You eat so much but are so skinny.” She slumped back in her chair at the restaurant down the street from the apartment. Jing Tao’s brother was hosting this late lunch for the entire family following the ceremony.

  Hsu-Ling lau
ghed. “I guess it’s an Asian thing.”

  They’d eaten course after course of food: soups and platters of chicken, Chinese vegetables, tofu, oysters fried and also in soups, whole fish, bamboo shoots, noodles, and a whole bunch of stuff she’d never seen before. Bottles of beer had been passed around, and everyone had eaten until they were full.

  “Where’s Kuan-Yu?” Lexa asked.

  “He had to go back to work.”

  “Who is he? Another relative?”

  “No.” Hsu-Ling looked down at her food with a small smile. “He’s a . . . friend.”

  Lexa looked at her in question. “A boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

  Before she could answer, Maddie leaned in close to them. “Why is everyone so red?”

  Lexa looked around at her relatives and realized Maddie was right. Most of them were bright red, as if they’d just run a marathon or had been caught in the sun without sunscreen.

  “It’s the Asian glow.” Lexa grinned.

  “Right, the Asian glow.” Hsu-Ling giggled.

  “What’s that?” Maddie looked baffled.

  “Asians are often missing an enzyme that processes alcohol, so they tend to turn bright red after only one drink,” Hsu-Ling said.

  Maddie turned to Lexa. “But you don’t get like that.”

  “No.” Lexa shook her head. “I guess Mom’s genes won out over my father’s in this.”

  They were still laughing when Hsu-Ling and Lexa’s uncle walked up to them. He drew a chair and sat behind them, causing them to turn in their seats so that they could see him.

  “Hsu-Ling.” They stopped laughing at the serious tone in his voice. “Your mother is causing trouble.” They all looked across the large table with the lazy Susan in the middle, which they’d used to pass the dishes around. Pin-Yen sat at the far end between two of their female cousins, her arms crossed over her chest. “She’s telling us that ChiChi manipulated your father into changing his will to include her. She wants the whole family to contest the will.”