“He’s not a… No.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know.”
When it was time for me to go, Curt bent over to kiss me on the lips. I held his face in my hands, then turned so that his kiss landed on my cheek, to the side of my mouth.
With my eyes closed, I said, “Thanks for listening.”
“Lucky dickhead.”
In between classes, I met Annette in the bathroom. Since I’d just cried so much with Curt, I managed to keep my composure when I told her.
For once, Annette didn’t say anything. She just held me in an incredibly tight grip.
Then she spoke. “I’m here for you.”
I took a deep breath. “What do you think?”
“You need to tell him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? He has the right to know.”
I rubbed my eyes. “He does. But if I tell him, he’ll never let me… you know. He’ll want to keep it and get married. He’ll want us to stay in Chinatown.”
“I guess there are worse things than being an incredibly young mother and living with a hunk the rest of your life.”
“I don’t want to force him to be with me. I don’t even know if I can make him happy in the long run. What kind of wife would I be for him? Poor, stressed, frustrated, with all my potential unfulfilled.” I started to yank at my hair.
“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself. You know what the easiest thing to do is. It’s to get rid of it and be with him and just never tell him. But you can’t do that. Probably the most likely thing is that you break up.”
I must have looked devastated, because she quickly added, “I’m sorry. And if you have the baby, it will mean your life will be harder, much harder, but it won’t mean it’s over.”
“If I’m lucky.”
“You’ve got something better than luck, you’re brilliant.”
“I wish I were so sure.”
Like a small child, I waited for Ma to come home from dropping work off at the jewelry factory. Now that I’d told Curt and Annette, the dam holding back my emotions had dissolved and I was overrun. When the apartment door finally opened, I ran to her as I’d done when I was a little girl.
“Ma!”
“Ah-Kim! What is it? What is it, my daughter?” She held me close, even though her head reached only to just above my shoulders, and then led me to a chair in the kitchen.
I couldn’t stop heaving, as if I were having convulsions. I had no tears left.
She waited for me to stop and then she said, “You have the big stomach.” She knew I was pregnant.
I couldn’t answer.
Her eyes were squeezed tight as she held me. Her head must have been spinning. Finally, in a low voice, she asked, “What did he say?”
“I can’t tell him.”
Now she lifted her head and stared at me. “You’re not thinking about dropping the fetus.” Having an abortion.
I could hear how dead my voice sounded. “What else can I do? How could I ever take care of you and Park and Matt and the baby?”
She laid a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll manage.”
With some anger, I brushed it off. “Like we’ve managed so far?” I let my gaze run through the dirty apartment. I thought about the woman and baby who used to live next door to us, in Mr. Al’s building. “I promised I would make a better life for you, Ma. I’m sorry I was so stupid.”
Ma’s voice broke. “My little girl, you’ve had to do everything for us. I am the one who is sorry, sorry I couldn’t do more to help you.” She held my head in her arms.
“Ma? Did you ever wonder about marrying Pa?”
“When I chose your pa over Bob, I never imagined Aunt Paula would still bring us to America. She told me when she left Hong Kong that I would die there. I thought I was giving up my future for him. But if I’d married Bob instead, I would have regretted it the rest of my life. I’ve never stopped loving your pa, even now that he’s been gone for so many years.”
“But Pa made the decision to be with you forever of his own free will. I dreamed of Matt and me choosing a life together step by step. Tying him to me with a baby isn’t a part of that.”
“You may need to change your dreams. My little heart, listen.” Ma took me by the shoulders. “When you and Matt finally got together, it was something no one could fight. I’ve seen you love each other for years. When you were younger, I told you not to get too close to the other kids. I was afraid he would lead you down the wrong path. I understood later, however, that no one could lead you astray. I’m so proud of you. But sometimes our fate is different from the one we imagined for ourselves.”
TWELVE YEARS LATER
FOURTEEN
Pete, six years old, had hidden himself under the low blue table and was hanging on to one of its legs, refusing to come out.
“I thought he just had high blood pressure. I don’t understand why he needs surgery. Can’t he just take some pills?” The man’s tone was frustrated. He was short and bald, with a belly that hung over his pants.
“Mr. Ho, I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. Pete has coarctation of the aorta, which is a congenital heart defect.” I pulled over the large plastic model of a heart that I kept on my desk. I saw the boy under the table watching us as well.
Mr. Ho was blinking at me. Even though we were speaking Chinese, I could tell he hadn’t understood a word.
“It’s something that Pete was born with. You see this?” I gestured toward the aorta. “This is the main artery that takes blood from the heart to the body. This part is not wide enough.” I pulled out the echocardiogram of his heart. I smiled at the child. “Pete, would you like to see a picture of your heart?”
Slowly, he climbed out from under the table and got into his father’s lap. I turned the echocardiogram around so that they could see it more clearly. “You have a very good heart but because this part is too narrow, your entire heart must work harder. There’s especially too much pressure here, in the left pumping chamber. This can really hurt your heart muscle later and lead to a lot of other problems.”
“Like what?” Mr. Ho asked.
I answered again. “High blood pressure or heart failure.”
His face fell. I knew he’d been hoping that surgery wouldn’t be necessary.
“This is a curative operation,” I told him, “which means he would be cured afterwards. Obviously with follow-up care and a cardiac rehabilitation program.”
They both looked happier at this.
With a glance at me, Pete asked, “Will the pretty doctor be there for the operation, Pa?”
His father sighed and nodded. “She’ll be the boss.”
Impressed, the boy addressed me directly. “Really?”
“I’m your surgeon,” I said to him. “I’ll be there with you the whole time.”
Now I looked at Mr. Ho more carefully. He seemed familiar, like someone from long ago. Where had I heard that name before? An idea occurred to me and I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “You wouldn’t know a Matt Wu?”
The man looked at me in surprise. “Ah-Matt. Of course.” Now he examined me more carefully as well. “Are you a friend of his? I didn’t know ah-Matt was acquainted with such important people!”
“You probably don’t remember. Matt and I used to come have wonton soup sometimes.” I couldn’t help smiling at the old memories. This was the waiter who’d always pulled us to the front of the line.
“Oh,” he looked at me vaguely, clearly trying to remember, trying to see me as someone other than his child’s doctor. “Yes, sure.” Mr. Ho nodded without meeting my eyes, and I knew he was only pretending. He remembered only Vivian.
I tried to sound as casual as possible. “Do you still see him sometimes?”
“Sure, Matt’s always around.”
I took a deep breath. This was my chance. I held out a copy of my card. “Would you give him this for me?” Pete took it and started scraping it across his cheek. “Tell him…”