Shanghai Girl (23 page)

"Sometimes dizzy?"

"Occasionally," I reply, continuing to play along with the scheme.

"And periods irregular?"

I blush. "Ye-yes."

"Okay, I'll write a note for you to send to your school. By the way, is your school in New York State?"

"No. It's out-of-state."

Dr. Hom doodles something on his prescription pad and whisks me out.

"Thanks, Doctor Hom," Lotus calls behind him. He grunts something but doesn't turn.

I read the note with trembling hands: "Patient Sha-fei Hong suffers from chronic fatigue and hormonal disorder. Intensive coursework not recommended."

Lotus snatches the paper from my hand and declares, “I’ll hold on to it. We’ll send a copy to your school’s admissions office and they’ll give you written permission not to register for the semester.”

“Thank you for your help, Lotus.”

She has turned her back to me to thank the receptionist.

"You're always welcome, Lotus. Brainy called earlier to say you were coming,” the girl says in English.

“He did?”

“Yeah. He said the Chairman says to call again any time if your boss needs anything.”

I wonder who else besides Chairman Mao is also known as the Chairman. Lotus’s facial expressions warn me that questions are not welcome.

I call Lu Long from a pay phone on Mulberry Street to inform him of my new situation. His roommate takes the message. “Please tell him everything is fine now,” I say, not giving out Ed’s phone number.

13 Sha-Fei Hong: No More Sewing Others’ Trousseau

A typical day of mine now passes like this: in the morning, I am awakened to Ed’s pre-shower routine, prepare breakfast, clean up the mess in the apartment, and lock up and leave. I walk a couple dozen blocks north on Fifth Avenue until I reach the NYPL’s Research Library.

I always slow down when passing the intersection of the Fifth and Broadway to look up at the majestic limestone building, the Flatiron. It brings Shanghai to my mind. Shanghai’s Flatiron stands not too far from our old house on Ave. Joffre. Built by the French in the 1920’s, it used to be called the Intersavin Society Apartments. My closest association to it is growing up taking the No. 26 trolley bus to Huaihai Road Central station, and going shopping at the Flatiron’s ground floor arcades. The Shanghai Food Products Factory Ltd., my favorite store for food in entire Shanghai, is located there. I would buy snacks such as preserved duck liver, honeyed dates, dried hawthorn flakes, and chocolate and cream waffles. The Flatiron in Shanghai has given me some of the rare, sweet memories of a childhood spent in exile away from the section of the city I was born. The Flatiron here in New York does not have my favorite food store. Seeing it also reminds me of reality. Reaching the Flatiron means I am halfway through my hike to Mid-town, and the Library is just another ten blocks away.

Once at the Library, I spend much of the day doing research for Gordon and for Ed. Ed has no idea I’m working for Gordon as well, and Gordon doesn’t want to hear the word “Ed” mentioned. I take my lunch break at about 12:30, buying a can of soda and a $1 hot-dog with everything on it from the cart of an Egyptian street vendor stationed at the corner of 42
^nd
and Fifth. Often chewing and walking simultaneously, I head west to a newsstand selling papers and magazines from all over the world. I do some more reading here before returning to the Library.

At around five, I walk back to Ed’s apartment to cook, clean, and getting ready for the evening.

Once a week, I see Gordon in his office for about an hour to update him on my research. In gleaning through volumes like the
Almanac of American Politics, America Votes
, or
The Congressional Quarterly Researcher
, I've found that issues confronting the Asian-American public are not only related but also inseparable. Statistical analyses of presidential, gubernatorial, and congressional elections and public opinion poll results reflect the changing faces of America. Different cultural and ethnic groups' involvement in the political processes significantly correlates with their immigration pattern and degrees of assimilation.

I rely heavily
on The Chinese New Yorker
for my research for the two men. For the most part, the condition of immigrants from mainland China, the primary target of Ed's potential clientele base, is very bleak. Many recent immigrants came to America without knowing what they were getting into. Many more want to come, as demonstrated by this advertisement:

FAIR MAIDEN SEEKS GOOD HUSBAND

Untouched Chinese beauty, 23, 5'2", high school

grad., Sino-Western joint venture employee,

pretty, gentle, domestic, excellent cook. Seeking

established man, 50-, US citizen or Green Card.

I feel sorry for whoever placed this ad for the Chinese girl, and for the girl herself. I also found a different one on the same classified page that I thought would be of interest to Ed, so I xeroxed it to bring home to show:

IMMIGRATION LAWYERS WANTED

N.Y.C. law firm seeks attorney w/ min. 1-yr

experience in immigration practice. Knowledge

of labor certifications & general immigration

law. Corporate experience & Mandarin- and/or

Cantonese-speaking a plus. Federal Plaza

vicinity location.

But when I hand the copy to Ed, he snickers over the one about the lawyers, but reads the personal ad with a glee.

"This is a pathetic situation. I'm not amused," I tell him.

"Supply and demand, it’s economics. Who do you suppose will be my clients if nobody puts out an ad like this?"

“Exploitation,” I scold Ed under my breath, not fully realizing I am among the exploited.

Ed has predictable schedules. He doesn't come back until around 9:00 p.m. "For first-year associates, this is life," he has said.

After my daily dinner assignment, I would find myself staring at the wall clock, where the short hand is around the Chinese character
Ba
, eight o’clock. I would have an urge to speak to Lu Long. Most of the time, though, I would contain that urge and instead jot down in my journal thoughts on some public policy issue I encountered during the day. Even though I have no opportunity to go to graduate school this semester, I still want to prepare myself for the days ahead, to survive and to thrive here in New York. I know I would not be leading this type of life forever, indeed, not for long.

Despite my complicated relationship with Ed and Gordon, Lu Long always seems to be the person I can connect with most easily. Although I’m not in active touch with him, in my heart he remains my most trusted friend. Sometimes I wonder why this is the case. Is it because that Lu Long and I are both from Shanghai, and we share same experiences people from different backgrounds cannot relate to? Or is it, as he told me long time ago that we were destined to be with each other, as our names and our Chinese zodiac of the Year of Dragon indicated.

At least for now, I am trying hard to resist accepting Lu Long’s interpretation of our relationship, because I believe I am still in love with Ed. But I remember that a wise man once said that there are no friendships between a man and a woman, only love or hatred. So I’m not sure whether Lu Long would change his mind about me. Suddenly, the urge to talk to Lu Long is overwhelming, and I pick up the phone.

“Ah, it’s you, Sha-fei!” Lu Long answers the phone excitedly. “You must have a sixth sense, as I was just thinking about you. I have good news. I’ve been given a full scholarship to study for an M.S.-Ph.D. combination degree in Applied Mathematics at Columbia University, starting in the spring.”

“That’s wonderful, Lu Long. Congratulations! You know my Father studied at Columbia in the late Forties. I’m so happy for you.”

“You didn’t ask the amount of the scholarship.”

“Oh, yes. How much?”

“Fifteen thousand dollars per academic year.”

“Wow! You’ll be a rich man!”

“Not only that. Some day, I may even win the Nobel Prize. Say you’ll marry me now before it’s too late.”

We laugh in unison over the phone line. I sense tears welling up. Then I say, “We definitely have to get together and celebrate this. Besides, I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

“It’s about time. I can’t wait to see you again. It’ll be my treat.”

“No, no. We should go Dutch as the Americans do. I’ve told you I’m earning a little money now, too.”

“Forget about your stingy sponsor’s five hundred dollar a month salary! We’ll have to talk about this, too. I insist on treating. Let’s go to Wok Egg Roll. I worked there as a takeout boy. Everybody knows me. The boss will give us a good deal.”

“
You look prettier than ever, Sha-fei,” Lu Long says. “I like your makeup. No more, no less, just right.”

I smile, embarrassed. “Since when did you become an expert on makeup?”

“Actually, you still look the same as in my dreams.”

Blushing, I suggest, “Why don’t we sit down and order some food.”

Typical Chinese setup for hosting guests: four dishes, one soup: pan fried flounder with ginger, scallions, and soy sauce; sweet and sour pork; stir fried Chinese green vegetable with straw mushroom; dried shrimp seaweed egg drop soup. Beers would drive up the cost, so we stick to the green tea. Complimentary.

“Lu Long, it’s unfair you’ve been hiding such a beautiful girlfriend from us all for so long!” a skinny waiter teases my friend as he brings out chopsticks for us in exchange for the forks and spoons set on the table.

Lu Long gives him a pleased look and says, “Now you see her. Beautiful and smart.”

I smile and say hello to the waiter. We shake hands.

After he leaves, I whisper to Lu Long, “Why didn’t you tell him I’m not your girlfriend?”

Lu Long looks into my eyes and vows, “You will be. I’ll win you back.”

My cheeks begin to burn. I look away and raise my cup. “Congratulations to you, Lu Long. Way to go!”

“Thank you, Sha-fei Hong. I’m so glad you could come. I’m overjoyed.”

Lu Long begins to ask detailed questions about my current situation. I try to focus on my arrangement with Gordon and avoid mentioning Ed.

“Your sponsor is such a miser. I can’t believe it. Five hundred bucks for all this work, and no professional sponsorship.”

“Forget about that. It’s only on a trial basis. But I’m not complaining. Without him, I could have lost my legal status already.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. Your sponsor is not the only Chinese in New York. But anyway, with all these reports you’re turning out for him, he must be making a lot selling them to the end-users. And I bet he doesn’t pay taxes on employing you. It’s all off the books, like these restaurant owners I worked for.” Lu Long suddenly reduces his volume.

“I don’t think Mr. Lou is getting money for my reports, though. He is trying to break into politics and establish himself as a representative of the Asian-American community. He uses the results of my research to prepare himself so that he will appear knowledgeable and appealing to the politicians when it’s time.”

“This is disgusting. It’s just like being a graduate student. You toil your life away in the labs for your professor and your dissertation committee chair. You do all the dirty work and turn yourself into a nerd. They get all the research breakthrough credits and publishing opportunities. And their tenures. And you wouldn’t dare not to lick their boots, because the whole scene is just too political.”

“Is this a summary report on your life so far in an institution of higher leaning in the U.S.?” I ask jokingly.

“Absolutely!”

“But now you can say ‘the heck with you’ and go to Columbia.”

“I can’t believe this came from you, Sha-fei. Are you really so naïve to think that it’ll be different there? It’s all the same. New York, Shanghai, capitalists, revolutionaries. Deep down, they’re all the same. They’re all after nothing but self-interest.” Lu Long is getting excited as he speaks.

I smile at him and say, “Hey, Lu Long. I thought we’re celebrating your opportunity to become a Ph.D. candidate at Columbia. Don’t be so cynical, okay? We all have to pay our dues, especially as new immigrants. A lot of people started worse off than us. We should look forward to the future.”

“You sound like you’re giving a lecture, Sha-fei. Are you repeating your foreign boyfriend’s words?”

“As a matter of fact, no. It was my sponsor who talked about paying dues as an immigrant. And I think it’s really true.”

“True? It’s true because it serves his needs to make you think you have no choice.”