Once he asked his parents, "Can I major in French in college?"
"You should study to be doctor," Pingping said. "What profession is better than save people's life?"
"I don't like medical science. How about art history or English? Can I major in art history?"
"Zen you will be a poor scholar for zer rest of your life," Nan said.
"I don't care."
"You don't care because we work night and day to make money for you," retorted his mother. "You act like rich kid who don't need profession."
Taotao turned to his father. "Didn't you tell me to follow my heart? You said, As long as you do something well, you won't starve.' "
"Sure, I said zat. But you should take your mozzer's opinion into account too."
"If I get a scholarship, can I study anything I want?"
His parents didn't answer, knowing there was no way to dissuade him. Nan knew Pingping would be happy if Taotao became a premed, but he believed they shouldn't force their son to do anything against his will. Yes, he wanted the boy to follow his own heart.
24
" SOMETHING good happened," Dick said to Nan when he stepped into the Gold Wok. There was a note of delight in his voice. He pulled his maroon scarf off his neck, his hair damp with rainwater and his cheeks steaming a little. It was still drizzling outside, and it had been a slow afternoon at the restaurant. "What happened?" asked Nan.
"My book won the National Book Critics Circle Award." Dick's eyes were sparkling and his face was so radiant that he seemed many years younger.
"How big is zis prize?"
"Almost like a Pulitzer."
"My goodness, congratulations!" Nan gave him a bear hug, patting his shoulder several times. "So now you're as famous as Edward Neary?"
"I'm getting close."
"You inspire me," Nan said in all sincerity. Indeed, just yesterday he hadn't thought of Dick as a significant poet; now overnight his friend had become a literary figure.
"Now my task is how to manage success," said Dick.
"How do you mean?" Nan was puzzled, unable to see how success was something to be managed.
"I must capitalize on the opportunity to promote myself and my work, also to raise my fee."
"What fee?"
"The fee for my readings and talks."
"Oh, you'll rake in zer kind of mahney like Edward Neary?" "You bet."
That surprised Nan, because Dick was talking like a businessman. Yet Nan said, "We must celebrate." "Yes, let's do that. Thank you."
Nan went into the kitchen to make Crabmeat Fu Rong and Scallops with Black Bean Sauce. Both dishes were easy to to cook, and the latter was one of Dick's favorites. Nan told Niyan to take two bottles of Tsingtao beer to Dick. He said to Pingping, "Dick just won a top prize for his poetry book. He's a star now."
"No fooling? What prize?"
"I forgot what it's called, similar to the Pulitzer."
"My, I should go and congratulate him."
"Tell him I'll be done in a few minutes."
Both Pingping and Niyan gave their congratulations to Dick, who was so wild with joy that he wouldn't use the glass on the table and drank the beer directly from the bottle and in long swigs. His eyes turned watery. He now smiled and now sighed, shaking his head as if bemused by such good fortune.
A few weeks later Dick told Nan that he had received a job offer from the Iowa Writers' Workshop and decided to accept it. Nan had heard of that place and knew this was a major development in his friend's career. At least Dick wouldn't have to worry about his tenure at Emory anymore. Nan felt upset that from now on he'd be entirely alone as a struggling poet. He had been writing poetry in English these days, though somewhat halfheartedly, and had been planning to show Dick a few of his poems about animals once he polished them. Now his friend was about to leave; it was almost like a blow to him.
Nan managed to be congratulatory, though deep down he wished Dick could stay in Atlanta a few more years. Dick seemed to have sensed Nan's disappointment, so he promised to keep in touch with him and even said, "You must come see me in Iowa."
"I shall try." Nan grimaced.
"I'll miss the Gold Wok, you know."
They both laughed. "You are always welcahm to eat here. Do come back and visit us," Nan told him.
Seeing that Dick didn't respond and knowing he must be elated to leave Atlanta, Nan added, "Winter is mild here."
"Yes, of course. I'm sure we'll meet again, one way or another."
So in May 1997, Dick sold his condominium and left for New York. After spending the summer there, he started teaching at the University of Iowa. As promised, he kept up a correspondence with Nan.
PART SEVEN
1
JANET and Dave were worried about their daughter's health these days. Hailee, already three years old, caught cold continually and often lost her appetite. She ate so little that she seemed to have stopped growing. Even when she cried, which she often did, she no longer screamed gustily as she used to, and neither would she kick her legs or flail her arms, where the skin was so pale that the blood vessels were visible. One night her nose bled; the blood stained the front of her wrap-over vest and frightened her parents.
The next morning Janet took her to the hospital. Dr. Williams, a tall, haggard-looking woman, listened to Hailee's chest, palpated her abdomen, and discovered that her liver and spleen were tender, probably swollen. Immediately she sent her to the lab to have her blood tested. A nurse drew three tubes of blood from Hailee's arm and said the result would be available in two days. On her way back to the jewelry store, Janet stopped at the Gold Wok and chatted with Pingping. Pingping held Hailee in her arms, cradling her and cooing at her, but the girl was subdued, her eyes dim, and a line of drool flowed out of the corner of her mouth, which seemed partly collapsed. With tears in her eyes Janet told Pingping, "I've prayed and prayed and prayed, hoping she'll be okay."
"Don't worry before it's time. I'm sure Hailee will be all right. Babies always have problem. If they don't get sick often, they won't be smart."
"What kind of logic is that?"
"I tell truth. My younger sister is always sick when she's little, so she's smartest in our family."
"I would rather have Hailee healthy than smart." "She will be fine."
Hailee looked sleepy, so Janet left a few minutes later. Nan had been busy working in the kitchen and had overheard their conversation; he said to Pingping about the Mitchells, "Now they know what it's like to be parents." Over the years Nan had grown to be very fond of Hailee. For some reason, whenever the girl saw him, she'd raise her little arms and cry, "Baobao [Hold me]," as if to claim a special tie with him. And without fail Nan would take her into his arms. If the Mitchells asked him to be Hailee's nominal father now, he would agree happily, but they never asked him again.
•
Dr. Williams called Janet two days later and in a soothing voice told her the result of the blood count. An abnormal number of white blood cells had been found, which might indicate leukemia, but she'd have to give Hailee a bone marrow biopsy to get enough information for an accurate diagnosis. She advised the Mitchells not to panic.