Great Call of China (S.A.S.S.) (18 page)

“You scratch mine. I get it. Well, don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.”

“Okay, but you’ll have to come to dinner again.”

Cece rolled her eyes.
“Peter.”

They neared the office, and Chang Hui opened the door.

The director looked pleased to see Peter and Cece again. They took a seat in front of her desk. Then Cece let Peter lead the conversation as she tried to pick up bits and pieces of what they were saying. Eventually, she decided it was pointless. All she could understand was her name over and over again. So she gave up, her head hurting from concentrating so hard. Finally, Peter turned to Cece and asked her for her Chinese name, her birth date, her parent’s names, and when she had been adopted.

Cece took this as a good sign and relayed the information.

The director spoke some more, and Peter stopped the conversation to catch Cece up.

“Cece, there is good news.”

Cece straightened. “There is?”

“The director says she can find out who your care worker was. She can obtain the information from your health records. They are archived in the central office, so it might take a few weeks. I have already given her my address and phone number.”

“That’s great, Peter.”

“She also said she can provide you with your finding record. The record contains information about where you were found, your age at the time, your weight. Things like that.”

Cece felt a tiny shred of hope light up inside her. “Would it say something about my birth parents?”

Peter spoke to the director some more.

She replied, and Peter translated.

“I guess that is the bad news,” Peter said. “She says the parents of orphaned children in China are rarely identified to the state, and for a good reason. It is illegal to abandon a child, so those who do it make sure they’re not caught.”

“So I won’t find out.”

Peter spoke with the director again.

“She said it was very unlikely. She has never seen that information for any of her children.”

Upon hearing this, Cece felt like a door to a part of her life had just been shut. She knew she wasn’t supposed to have expectations about finding her birth parents, but she hadn’t planned on someone saying that finding them would be next to impossible.

“Are you okay?” Peter said.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Keep it together, Cece.

“Do you want me to ask about anything else?”

Cece could hardly think. “No. Can we go, Peter?”

After the meeting concluded, Cece and Peter stepped out of the office, only to find a few staff members, including Chang Hui, hovering outside as if they had been listening in. Chang Hui whispered to Peter. “Come with me. I try to help.”

Cece held her breath. They followed her to the nursery and watched her close the door. She gathered the care workers together.

“She’s telling them what she heard in the office,” Peter said. “Cece, give her your photograph.”

Cece quickly pulled it out of her wallet.

Each of the staff members studied the picture, then eventually one stepped forward. Her face was weathered and kind, and she was taking a particular interest in the birthmark on Cece’s face. She glanced at the picture again.
“Ying-Ying.”

“Ying-Ying?” Cece repeated. “What’s that?”

“It’s a name,” Peter said. “Like a nickname.”

“
My
nickname?” He heart raced. “She knows me?”

Peter nodded. “I think so.”

The woman spoke slowly to Cece, introducing herself.
“Wo shi Wang Mei Ling.”
She smiled.

Then the woman talked to Peter, and soon Peter was smiling, too.

“Yes, Cece, she knows who you are. Your orphanage name was Bei Ma Hua. But they always called you Ying-Ying. It means firefly. You have the same bright eyes. The same mark on your face. She says she would not forget you. She raised you since you were weeks old.”

Cece was stunned from the news.
She knows me.

The woman reached out, her fingertips grazing Cece’s cheek.
“Zhen piao liang.”

Cece’s face warmed from her touch, bringing her a sense of calm.
Piao liang.
“Pretty. She said I was pretty.”

Peter nodded.

Cece studied the woman, and as she looked longer into the woman’s eyes, she felt something. Something familiar. Like she had seen that tender expression before. Was she finally connecting with someone at last?

Mei Ling pulled Cece to a nearby sofa, and all of them sat. She shared stories of Cece as a child, and Peter translated.

“You were such a picky eater,” Peter relayed. “You did not like to try anything new. Except for ice cream.”

Cece smiled.

“You also loved to sing, and you were always very shy about it. But it never took long before you were the loudest of the bunch.”

Mei Ling laughed, then she hummed a little tune. It was catchy and melodic.

“That was your favorite song,” Peter explained. “It is a popular children’s nursery rhyme.”

Cece knew then she really was getting a part of her life back and in a way she hadn’t expected at all. She thought a simple tour of her own orphanage would have been it. But to meet her own care worker? What luck!

Mei Ling continued on with more stories. How Cece always clung to her leg in front of strangers. How studious she was when she played with her favorite toys. How big hearted when it came to sharing with others. What a sweet child she had been—a joy to love. Then Mei Ling wanted to know everything about Cece. How were her parents? Did she have a nice home? Was she doing well in school? Cece tried to tell Mei Ling everything she could. But soon it was time for Cece to go. One of Mei Ling’s children was crying out to her.

Mei Ling had one last thing to say. Her voice became quiet—so quiet Cece could barely hear her.

“What did she say?” Cece asked Peter.

“She says she knows why you came here. Any daughter would want to know. She is not sure if this will help, but she will try.”

Then the woman got up and went to a counter. She wrote something on a notepad, then tucked the note into Peter’s hand. She shared a few words with him.

Peter said, “We need to go now. We are not to say anything more.”

Cece looked quizzically at Peter as her heart drummed in her chest. What had the woman written?

Cece gave Mei Ling a hug good-bye, and Mei Ling whispered in her ear.
“Bu yao ku, baobei.”
She pulled away from her and dabbed at the corner of her eye.

When Peter and Cece exited the orphanage, Cece repeated back what Mei Ling had said.
“Bu yao ku, baobei.
Don’t ... don’t what, Peter? Why did she look so sad?”

“She said, ‘Don’t cry, Cece. That is all.’”

“Don’t cry? What did she give you then? What did she tell you in the note?”

“It’s an address,” Peter said when they reached the elevator.

“An address? For my parents?”

“I don’t know, Cece.” Peter consulted his map as they stepped into the elevator. “It’s not very far.” He checked his watch. “But we do not have much time.”

They hailed the first cab they saw and soon found themselves in a residential neighborhood made up of rich homes that had sloping gray-tiled roofs and private courtyards. Every dwelling looked meticulously cared for. The streets were swept clean, and the people looked better dressed than the average citizen. Cece filled with consternation. “I don’t like this.”

The taxi slowed to a stop and parked in front of an impeccable home. It, too, was built in a traditional style, with a sloping gray roof. The front was fenced in with iron and partially obscured by a wooden gate. Cece could make out a fountain beyond the fence and a uniformed attendant working on the landscaping. A brand-new Mercedes was parked along the walk.

What does this place have to do with me?
Cece thought.

Everything about it felt wrong. Whoever lived here had money. Lots of it.

Then she saw a boy come out of the house, bouncing a basketball along the walk.

A boy.

Perhaps he was a few years younger, but the sight of him overwhelmed Cece. Was he her replacement? Was he the one who would carry on the family name? Suddenly, her throat felt tight. She could barely find her words. “I can’t do this, Peter.” Her hands shook in her lap.

Mei Ling had told her not to cry.

“Peter,” Cece said louder. “I can’t do this.”

“But—”

“Don’t,”
Cece said.

Peter didn’t say anything. He merely placed a hand over hers, then asked the driver to keep going.

 

Back at the hotel, Cece was sitting on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chin. Kallyn paced the room. “Cece, you can’t draw conclusions like that. You don’t even know if that was your parents’ house.”

Peter nodded from his chair beside Cece’s bed. “Kallyn is right. Maybe the people who live there know where they might be.”

“I doubt it,” Cece said. “Mei Ling told me not to cry.” She picked at a loose thread on her shorts. “She knows my story isn’t good.”

He sighed. “Cece, you could be very wrong.”

“Peter, I can put two and two together.” She snapped the thread. “I saw the house. I saw the boy. I saw all those girls at the orphanage—”

“You’re only guessing,” Kallyn said.

Cece’s mind couldn’t be changed. “Maybe I’m better off not knowing anything.”

“Cece,” Kallyn said. “I think you’re losing sight of the big picture here.”

“And that is?”

“You got to meet your care worker, didn’t you? Isn’t that something? To know what you were like as a child?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You shouldn’t let what you saw at that house take that away from you.”

“Yes, Cece,” Peter said. “You must concentrate on the good.”

As Cece looked at her friends, it became clear to her that they didn’t understand. She let out a long breath.

Kallyn sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sure you’ll think about this differently if you give it some time.”

“I don’t think so,” Cece said. “Guys, I know you’re trying to make me feel better. But let’s drop this, okay?”

“Cece,” Kallyn said.

“No, I mean it. I want to let it go.”

 

That evening, as Cece rode the overnight train back to Xi’an, she couldn’t sleep. Even though she had wanted to let it go, all she could think about was that house in Beijing and that
boy
. She closed her eyes, but the tears still managed to escape.

For so long, she had wanted to believe something that was unlikely to be true, and now the answer seemed to be right in front of her. All those girls in the orphanage—abandoned because of their gender.

It made her question the kind of birth parents she had—what they were capable of. And worst of all, it made her believe she never wanted to know them.

Cece’s chest panged with hurt. She turned on her side and pulled the blankets up to her chin. As the train rolled forward, she lay awake, knowing that she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

When the group returned to the dorms the next morning, Cece was exhausted. But there was one thing she had to do. She got out her calling card and dialed the phone in the hall. As the phone rang her house, she tried to breathe evenly.

“Mom?” Cece said.

“Sweetie, is that you? Are you safe in Xi’an now?”

Hearing her mother’s voice brought Cece the comfort she longed for. Immediately, her body began to relax. “Yeah, I am.”

“Is everything okay?” her mom said.

“I just wanted to tell you I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, honey.”

Then neither of them said anything.

Finally, her mom spoke. “Cece, you know I love you, right? More than anything.”

“I know, Mom.” Cece wiped a tear away. “That’s why I called.”

 

Monday, Cece’s day crawled. She was so tired from the weekend, all she wanted to do was sleep, even though everyone else was worried about midterms that week. She sat through classes in a daze, and, despite herself, her mind constantly drifted back to the weekend. After classes, Cece returned to her dorm. When she walked in, she set her things down and noticed a note on the floor near the door. She picked it up and opened it.