I remember standing barefoot on a cold floor, disturbed by the tempestuous noise of mahjong tiles clashing together. It was a night during summertime when school was suspended until September.
It was partly because my mother had returned to her hometown a four-hour train ride away, and mostly because my dad was in trouble again. Without a heads-up nor an explanation, he dropped me off at one of his friend's and fled. I had only my school bag with me.
I glanced around the room, feeling peculiar. Any place with four walls and a ceiling was the same to me as I had been abandoned in too many places. It was mind-blowing that my dad had so many friends that allowed a little girl to spend a night.
Two things Chinese men had in common: loyalty to brotherhood and enthusiasm in gambling. Whenever they had the time, they gathered in one of the houses to play poker, mahjong or even Chinese chess.
Around the mahjong table sat four men, each holding a flickering cigarette between their fingers.
"Xue, don't you worry! You've got a friend here," one of them said, rubbing a tile of mahjong with his thumb. He chanted 'red dragon' under his breath. Squatting under the table, I took a peek before he did. It was a bamboo.
"What friend?" I asked as I stood straight after the man cursed and discarded the tile to the centre of the table.
"My little boy, Jin. He's in his room. Go play with him," said the man, who casually flicked the ashes of his cigarette to the ground.
"I'm okay," I shrugged and skipped away with a fluffy piggy in my arm.
A young lady led me to sit with her on a fabric sofa. Her scent was unique, a mixture of soap and grass among the acrid cigarette smoke. It was more pleasant than that on my mum, which was like pickled radish as she carried a hundred jars of it whenever she returned from her hometown. She wanted to sell them to the neighbors but, seriously, who would buy that?
It was no exaggeration to say the woman could be one of the actresses appearing on TV. Her face glowed like pink lilacs. If only she had prettier clothes. I rifled through my schoolbag and handed her the plaid skirt I wore to school. It was too short for me and I loathed exposing my bare knees.
Later, I watched her pulling the needle and thread in and out to stitch the hemming of the skirt.
"Xue, do you miss your mama?" she asked me when she was half way through it.
"Sometimes, but she said she will be back before the school starts," I answered with my eyes clinging to her moving hands.
"I heard you're wonderful at school."
As a response, I mimicked her genuine smile.
"Ma!" A boy stepped out of his room and scowled, leaning on the door frame. "My tummy is not well." His name was Jin and he was twelve, as I was told later on.
Jin's mother dropped my skirt instantly and sat up from the sofa. "Honey, I think it's done."
Striding across the corridor to Jin, she brushed his hair away and kissed his forehead. A Mama's boy, I judged him inwardly. I had met a lot of kids in many houses. Most of them were older but behaved otherwise.
I picked up the skirt and even I, a ten-year-old child, could tell there was a two inches gap between the ends of the stitches. My mum could have done it better, but I promised myself I would wear it to school anyway.
"Who's the girl?" I heard Jin hiss to his mother.
"She's Xue. Be nice to her. Treat her like your own sister," his mother warned him.
"I want a brother, not a girl," he said and it was not the only thing he complained about that night.
When it was nearly midnight, Jin's mother took me to her room after bathing me. Lying next to me on a queen sized bed, she whispered in my ear. "Go to sleep and you'll see your baba tomorrow morning."
It was strange that I was not thinking about my dad. Not even my mum. I imagined the blinking eyes, the batting lashes and the freckles of Jin's mother in the dark. I concluded that I liked this lady.
"Will they ever stop playing? I can't sleep," I murmured as my eyelids got heavier. The noise of mahjong and the men's swearing seemed everlasting.
"If you're staying with us tomorrow night, I'll take you to my mother's. You will get a better sleep there," she assured me, patting my chest. Seconds ago she said my dad would pick me up tomorrow. She lied, I assumed.
"Is your mother as kind as you?" I asked.
"Well...not really. She's very strict but you'll love the food she cooks."
"How does Jin sleep every night?"
"He doesn't. He plays until he's exhausted. Crazy that he needs so little sleep." I listened to her laughter when she spoke of her son.
That was the first night with Jin's family, and I have never seen my parents again. Every piece of my life has been reshuffled like mahjong tiles ever since. I switched to a different school and lived in a different house. The way I walked and the words I used were passively changed.
My name remained the same. I'm still Wu Qian-xue but my surname holds an alien meaning to me after Mr. and Mrs. Wu vanished. Regardless of their cruel abandonment, I hope they are not dead. Wherever they are, I hope they are not suffering.
▲▼▲▼
My phone buzzes frantically on the table. I jerk my arm out from under my head and find myself waking up in a deserted 24-hour McDonalds, again(A Nobel Prize to whoever invented that).
It is the third night in a row I try dodging the awkward silence at home. I will probably catch a cold from the extended stay in an air-conditioned room, but the low temperature I experienced is pleasurable compare to Grandma's icy glare. I only need an other round of twenty-four-herbs to boost my defense system.
"Hello?" annoyed, I answered the phone without glancing the screen. It's probably just another scam call informing me that there's a mysterious package for me or luring me to borrow some cash with unbelievably low-interest rates.
"It's me."
"Who?"
"Toshio. Did I wake you?"
I wipe away the saliva drooling down my mouth and sit straight, then I realize Mr Morita can't see how disgusting I am. His call startles me as I thought he must have forgotten about me by now.
"No, how are you?" I ask, shaking away my tiredness.
"I'm good. I'm in Tokyo to run some family errands."
"I see. Wait a minute. Am I charged for an international call?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's paying."
"Okay. Sorry for asking." Dang, I'm embarrassing myself, I think to myself as I cover my reddened cheek with my palm.
"Don't be. Where are you now?"
It's twelve o'clock. I should be on my bed, so I lie.
"I'm alone in a hotel room too," he replies. I can't help but picture him wearing an expensive ivory cream bathrobe, gazing at the gleaming Tokyo Tower through the windows, probably holding a glass of whisky on the rocks. I also sense something odd in his voice. It's attractively deep as usual, but it is also veiled by something else.
"Are you alright?" I ask, tiptoeing around. "You sound...strained."
"Maybe I'm a bit tired. Things went the wrong direction." He lets out a terse sigh.
"You can tell me, not that I'm prying on your privacy, but you can trust me. I don't have anyone to spread a secret."
I heard him laughing. I feel like I always amuse him with no particular reasons.
"Thanks. I do need someone to talk to. That's why I called. But now I don't really know where to begin."
"Okay..." Biting my lip, I'm unsure how to respond, so I keep silent, listening to his musical breathing.
"Are you still there?" Toshio speaks again after a few seconds.
"Yes. I am."
"It's stupid. I'm disturbing your rest. I'm sorry. I should hang up now," he mumbles as if he has swallowed whatever he intended to say.
"Don't!" I blurt out, more like a shout. "Please, you don't have to disclose any family top secret. There are plenty creative ways to converse."
I don't know why I sound like I desperately want to talk to him. I guess I just want to talk to someone, anyone.
"Like what?" he asks. I'm so glad he is intrigued.
"Like..." I wrinkle my nose and suggest something silly. "Like the personality quizzes Naira and I always play. That's how we get to know about each other better."
"Those quizzes are for women," he says wryly.
"No. They are for all genders." I retort. "There's one with Doraemon in it, a fun one."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." And I made him chuckle again.
"You're half-Japanese! Never mind, that one is super long to tell anyway. Oh, I have a good one. Which fairy tale character would you choose to symbolise your childhood?"
"Are you twelve?" he snaps.
"Come on. I'll let you know my answer in exchange."
He pauses, seemingly thinking of an answer, then he reluctantly says. "Guess I'd choose the happy prince."
I refrain my dramatic gasp but it's still audible. Not only he considers himself a prince, but the prince gilded by fine gold.
"No, it's not about the jewels of his eyes. I just...I was pretty lonely. I had, well, everything, but I felt trapped and unwelcomed." He awkwardly coughs and asks, "What about you?"
"I pick the big bad wolf from the three little pigs."
"Why?"
"There's no why; the question is simply to choose a character."
"Did you just trick me to share something embarrassingly personal? That's not fair."
I giggle and my laughter is the only sound echoing in this nearly empty McDonalds. "It's not embarrassing; I was pretty lonely as a child too."
"How's the wolf lonely? He gets to eat the pigs."
"I'm not going to explain it. I was lonely, that's it."
"Fine. That makes two of us. I told you we have something in common."
We kept on exchanging answers to childish quizzes(or more like I forced him to and he tolerated it).
I narrate the quiz based on the characters in Doraemon and I cannot believe Toshio has forgotten most of them. Doraemon had been huge, not only in Japan, as I remind him again and again. Then he points out the quiz has nothing to do with Doraemon. It's just an old-fashioned story borrowing the names from Doraemon.
We bickered and talked for an hour. I learned a lot about him: Toshio is turning 30 next month and he runs a financial consultancy (though I still don't understand what it does). He is not wearing a bathrobe right now but a pair of grey color sweatpants and topless (yes, I blush).
I think we both have done a pretty good job in lighting up each other's mood by participating in this purposeless chat. It strikes me I haven't laughed for a few days prior to his call.
"My IQ literally dropped because of you."
"Then off you go. Stop calling me," I snort in jest.
"I won't call you," he says, "as I'll return in two days. I'm going to mock you in person."
"Suit yourself. Goodnight, Toshio."
"Goodnight, Xue."
I start calling him by his first name. That's something.
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A/N:
Doraemon was huge for my childhood and the quiz was very popular when I was a kid. If you are curious, you can search a personality quiz named the river. They are basically the same. Anyway, have you played any personality quizzes before? Any good one? Will you find someone silly if he/she asks you personality quizzes during your first date (that happened to me before). Guess there's ain't better way to break the ice.
And do you think the story is going too slow? I'm planning to write shorter chapters and with more condensed scenes. Your advice is always welcomed!
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