“Hardly. When I was little, I was supposed to stay inside with my mother.” Helen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “When I got to school, the other girls only played with me because their parents said they had to. Those girls are all married now. They have babies.” Her voice hitched, and she shrugged. “Plus I now work in a big-thigh show. If I see one of those girls on the street, she looks away. None of them wants to associate with me. Their husbands wouldn’t like it. Of the three of us, I’ll bet you’re the one who’s had the most friends.”
Ruby nodded slowly, pretending deep thought. Finally, she said, “I’ve had friends. Lots of friends. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry!”
Helen looked aghast, and then her face cracked as she burst out laughing. Ruby and I joined in. One of the waiters rolled his eyes. Here we go again.
“I’ve never had friends like you,” I said after we regained our composure.
“I’ve never had friends, period!” Helen softly slapped the table for emphasis.
“The three of us are like the Three Musketeers,” I said. “We get strength from each other, and we have adventures together. We’re all for one and one for all.”
“I don’t plan on being in any duels!” Ruby scoffed good-naturedly.
“Did you ever hear of the Boswell Sisters? Maybe you’re like them.” This came from a man at a neighboring table, which sent us into a cataclysmic fit of giggles. A man(!) just talked to us. He’d been eavesdropping on us! We could flirt with him all we wanted, because we were three girls together. So we broke into song, piecing together the lyrics to “Someone to Watch Over Me” and throwing in some exaggerated arm movements for the benefit of our audience of one, who clapped appreciatively and scooted his stool a little closer to our table.
“Maybe it’s better to say we’re like the Andrews Sisters,” Ruby announced when we came to the end of the song.
“Three friends are better than sisters,” I said, even though I’d been dumped by Velma and the other evil triplets. I never wanted a day to come when I’d be excluded by Ruby and Helen in favor of someone like Ida. “Besides, we aren’t sisters.”
“And it’s a good thing,” Ruby agreed. “Sisters are stuck with each other, whether they like it or not. We chose each other. We wouldn’t be here now if Helen hadn’t found our apartment. So thank you, Helen, again, for being right there when we needed someone.” She gave a smart two-finger salute to our benefactor. “Anyway, all that makes us better than sisters, like Grace said.” Her eyes sparkled. “Hey, what if we put an act together and called ourselves the Swinging Sensations or the Oriental Wonders-”
“How about the Swing Sisters?” Helen suggested.
“We aren’t-”
“Sisters,” Ruby finished for me. “But so what? We’re singers and dancers-”
“You’re dancers too?” The man on the stool leaned forward, skeptical.
Ruby stiffened. “Of course! We’ll show you.”
The customer regarded us in unveiled delight as we jumped up and started pushing tables and stools out of the way. The cooks came out from the kitchen to see what all the hubbub was about, wiping their hands on their aprons, shoving their folded paper hats back on their foreheads. We lined up. I counted, “Five, six, seven…” And we broke into “Let Me Play with It.”
Halfway through the number, Monroe came in the door, bringing with him a rush of damp air. He scowled as he took in the scene. Our voices trailed off, the man on the stool slid back to his own table, and the cooks slinked into the kitchen.
“Time to go,” Ruby said to Helen.
Monroe was clearly upset to see his sister and her friends dancing in a neighborhood restaurant, but he didn’t yell or anything like that. Instead, he radiated disapproval. That was fine for Helen; he was her brother. But to me, his attitude was upsetting. He was younger than Eddie Wu and just about the most darling boy I’d ever seen-almost as cute as that boy I’d met on Treasure Island. It probably helped that Monroe was the first Chinese boy I’d seen up close.
We waved to the man on his stool as Monroe herded us out the door. When we reached the Fong family compound, he dashed through the main entrance and into the courtyard-his chore done for the night.
“He likes you,” Helen said after her brother disappeared from view. “He’s always staring at you.”
“It’s true,” Ruby agreed. “Which one do you like more-Monroe or Eddie?”
I shrugged, trying to pretend indifference when I’d never been on a single date. Now, any time I saw Eddie or Monroe, a slightly seasick sensation roiled my stomach and I blushed. (If dreaming about a boy and a man at the same time seems like something only a bad girl would do, then I told myself that I wasn’t in Plain City anymore, and I had some catching up to do.) Eddie appeared to regard my silly comments, hard work in the line, and girlishness with casual indifference, while Monroe…
“Sometimes it feels like your brother is taking in every movement, every word, every outfit I wear, and analyzing them-”
“Maybe he’s deciding if you’re wife material,” Helen said.
“Oh, stop!”
Helen’s lips formed a gentle smile, and then she slowly backed away from us as though she were a grain of wheat being sucked into a silo. She didn’t want to leave us, and we didn’t want to let her go, but she never once hinted that she might invite us into the compound to sit on her bed and talk until we all fell asleep. That was something I still missed-and longed for-from when Velma and I were friends.
After the gate swung shut, Ruby and I slowly continued to our apartment. We weren’t in a hurry, because nothing and no one waited for us.
“Marry Monroe?” I mused. “He doesn’t even know me.”
Ruby lifted her shoulders and let them drop. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Despite her funny stories, being jobless weighed on her. I worried for her too.
With sudden clarity, I understood that Ruby might be more outgoing and Helen might be from a better family, but I linked the three of us together. I was the Velma of the group! Only nicer.
MY FATHER SCREAMED, “Measly girl! Worthless girl! You aren’t going anywhere!” He bore down on me, trapping me in the corner of our living room. He unbuckled his belt and drew it through his pants loops in a single fast flourish. I had no way to escape… The leather lashed through the air before landing on my skin… The terrible familiar sting…
I jolted awake and lurched into a sitting position. Panting… Sweaty… I hung my head as I pushed at my fear and feeling of helplessness.
After a few moments, my hands still shaking, I wiped my hair off my face so I could see the clock. It was 9:30 in the morning. I’d gotten to bed from rehearsal only five hours earlier. I lay back down, stared at the ceiling, and let tears run from my eyes to my ears. But I had to pull myself together. In forty-five minutes, I would be going on my first date ever.
I pulled on the silk robe I’d purchased at a curio shop on Grant and padded out to the main room. Ruby had already left to go job hunting, but last night we’d talked about what I should wear, and if Monroe would like me better with or without makeup. I made myself a cup of tea, took it back to the bedroom, and began to get ready. I’d need to spend extra time on my face now to hide the splotches and swelling. By the time I went downstairs, I thought I looked pretty.
Monroe picked me up at 10:15 outside my building and we walked to the corner of Stockton and Clay, joining another two hundred or so people. He told me we were going to a “protest.” This was a surprise and hardly the date I’d imagined, but I decided to let the day unfold the way Monroe wanted it to. As soon as we climbed onto the bed of a pickup truck, I knew this was going to be a real adventure. We joined a convoy of cars and stake-back trucks and drove down to Pier 45-singing, yelling, and cheering the whole way-to where a Greek ship, the SS Spyros, was docked. Monroe told me the vessel had been charted by Mitsui Company to transport 8,500 tons of scrap iron to Japan. We were there to picket against the shipment. Monroe’s decision to bring me here showed him perfectly. He was an ABC-an American-born Chinese, like me. His American birthright gave him the freedom to state his views publicly. He was, as Helen put it, one of those new brooms who wanted to sweep the world clean of all inequities.