MY SECOND GOOD-BYE [63 a 69]

Pag 63

MY SECOND GOOD-BYE

The next few years were relatively peaceful noes at the academy. We kept learning and continued to hone our skills. Once in a while, we went back to the theater at Lai Yuen Amusement Park, watching in rapture as veteran players made age-old stories come to life. We grew strong and taller, advancing rapidly toward adolescence. Other kids joined our school, both boys and girls, and after they took their licks, we accepted them as one of us.

Master continued to rule us with an iron hand and an iron cane. Yuen Lung and Yuen Tai rode us with no more mercy than before, but we were old enough to take it, and once in a while, even dish it out.

My mother continued to visit me regularly, and even if I still blushed bright red when she pulled out her sponge and bags of hot water, I never once complained.

But I hadn’t seen my father for years. I received regular news about him from Mom, and occasionally she even brought his voice, captured on audio cassettes. The tapes came in brown packages signed in his neat but simple hand; each tape was an hour-long lecture about ways I could improve myself, mistakes I should avoid, and threats regarding what would happen to me if I screwed up. There was always a handful of wrinkled bills tucked in with the tape, and after a while, I started throwing away the tapes and just keeping the money.

It’s not that I didn’t think about my father; I did wonder what it was like down under in Australia, in a land of foreigners, full of strange creatures, like koala bears and kangaroos. We talked about it sometimes, late at night.

“D’you think you’ll ever get to go visit your dad, Big Nose?” That was Yuen Kwai. He’d picked up the annoying habit of using Biggest Brother’s stupid nickname for me. The first time he said it, I’d slugged him, which only resulted in his refusing ever to call me anything else. I’d gotten used to it.

“Dunno,” I said, rolling over onto my side.

“They have all sorts of animals down there,” he said. “Natives, too, I heard. They run around half-naked.”

That was an intriguing thought.

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“Girls, too?” I asked.

“That’s what I heard,” he said.

I wasn’t quite old enough to be interested in girls, but I was curious. The whole prospect—weird beasts, naked natives, and all—made me wish I could talk to my dad, even see him.

“You guys shut your mouths or I’m going to come over there and shut 'em with my fist,” grumped Yuen Lung from the far side of the room.

We shut up.

A few weeks later, Master asked me to stay and speak with him after dinner. I quickly ran through the day to see if there was anything he might have reason to smack me for, and nothing came to mind. Nothing he possibly could have found out about, anyway. I walked to the head of the table fairly confident that I wasn’t about to get a whipping. Still, I wondered to myself what it was he wanted to hell me. It was hardly ever a good thing to be noticed by Master.

“Yuen Lo, I have received a message from your mother,” he said, puffing on his after-dinner cigarette. “She will be visiting the academy tomorrow, so be ready.”

That was hardly news. It wasn’t her usual visiting day, but it wasn’t something Master would particularly care about, either. There had to be something else.

“Master?” I said, with a questioning look.

“Oh, yes,” he said, rousing himself from distraction. “She will be bringing your father.”

My father!

Was he back for good? Were they going to take me out of the academy? Would he take me to live with the animals and natives of Australia?

Or had he found out I was throwing away his tape recordings, and come here to deliver his lectures in person?

I gulped as Master waved me impatiently away. I hated the school, the training, the beatings, and even some of the students—but I’d worked so hard, and hadn’t even had the chance to perform” I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t going to give up my future on the stage.

“What’s wrong, Big Brother?” It was Yuen Biao, noticing my black expression.

“Nothing,” I said.

“It’s not nothing,” he countered.

I sighed and filled him in.

“So you think he might be taking you away?” said Yuen Biao. I nodded.

“I wish my parents would come and take me away,” he said somberly.

I looked at him. He wasn’t the Littlest Brother anymore, but he was 

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still one of the youngest youngest kids at the school. And he really missed his parents; they hardly ever visited, although they showered him with presents and hugs whenever they did.

When I first realized that my life with Master wasn’t going to be the easy ride I’d hoped for, I hated my dad. I resented how he’d tempted me with visits and then trapped me here for good, and I wondered how he could abandon his only son to the wolves.

I understood better as I got older. There was no way Dad could have supported me and Mom if we’d all stayed at the Peak, and he couldn’t  have afforded to bring us all with him to Australia. The school was what was best for me at the time.

But now—it was a puzzling, mixed-up situation. I didn’t know what to think or feel anymore. I understood my father, but I resented him. I dreamed of escape, but I wanted to stay. What would I say when I saw him again? What should I expect from his unexpected reunion, and what would become of me?

All night long I turned these questions over in my head, coming no closer to finding. In the morning, I was given leave to prepare for my father’s arrival, scrubbing myself clean and putting on my best outfit—no longer my cowboy suit, which I’d long since outgrown, but a pair of faded blue pants and a fresh white T-shirt.

Washed and groomed, I sat at the long, wooden table in the practice hall, waiting with Master for the knock that would announce my parents.

The wait was awful. I could hear Yuen Lung screaming at the other students in the background, and wished I was practicing with them rather than sitting anxiously on the hard wooden bench, afraid even to shift my posture.

There was a soft thumping on the door. Master patted me on the back and led me to the entranceway. I opened the door, and for the first time in years saw the man who’d brought me into the world.

Australia had not changed my father much. He was still the same tall, stern man of my memories, with a few more lines on his face, and a bit more color to his skin. He seemed as awkward in my presence as I was in his, and we stood there staring at one another until Master beckoned my parents in off the stoop. He and my mother stepped inside, and Mom immediately put her arm around me.

We walked to the long table and sat down, as Master signaled for tea. Father sat on one side of me, and Mom on the other, with Master at the head of the table.

           “You’ve frown, Ah Pao,” he said, his voice gruff. “Maybe you’ve even outgrown your name.” He was right; now a skinny adolescent, I no longer deserved the baby name “Cannonball.” I was more like a rifle: lean, compact, and hard. 

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Master looked into my face and nodded in my father’s direction. His expression carried a suggestion: I hadn’t seen my father for such a long time. Shouldn’t embrace him?

I swallowed and turned to Dad, folding my arms around him in an unfamiliar gesture of affection. My father responded clumsily in kind. He’d never been one for demonstrations of his feelings—the softer ones, anyway—and clearly felt uncomfortable at his display. But Master seemed pleased, and my mother positively beamed at the sight.

My father cleared his throat, as if to change the subject. The tea arrived, giving us something to do with our mouths other than talk. It was a relief.

Mom was the first of us to break the silence. “Kong-sang, how are you doing in your studies?” It was the first time she’d ever called me by my given name, and it sounded strange from her lips. Bemused, I nodded, my expression blank.

“He is doing well,” said Master, saving me from having to respond. “He is not our best acrobat, or our best singer, or our best fighter—”

So much for my savior!

“—but he is sufficiently accomplished in all things, and nearly ready to advance to performance. You should be proud of your son.”

Master’s words were like treasure. I’d never heard him directly praise any of us, so hearing him tell my parents that I had been worth all of his effort brought a smile to my face. And the more I thought of it, the more I had to agree with him. All of my brothers and sisters had something in which they excelled—my brother Yuen Wah had good form, little Yuen Biao was a tremendous acrobat, and Biggest Brother was one of the most powerful fighter. I wasn’t the best at anything, but I was good enough at everything. I had no special talent—but that was a blessing in disguise. Because if I had been the best singer, then the teachers would have made me concentrate on singing. If I had been the best actor, then they might have made me specialize in acting. Instead, I got a chance to learn everything do everything well.

My father looked at me with surprise, as if he’d never expected me to succeed.

“Oh, Kong-sang, we are so very proud of you!” said my mother, squeezing me.

I was pretty proud of myself! Because the master had said something else that I’d nearly missed; he’d suggested that I was nearly ready to perform, to show off my skills in public. And that meant that my dream of the crowd, the audience cheering in the dark, was going to come true. Sometime soon. Unless…

Unless my parents took me away. My stomach flip-flopped, and the smile faded from my face. The dream, once so close, now gone forever.

I stared at the soft cloth slippers on my feet, suddenly wishing that the

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day had never begun at all. “May I be excused?” I asked in a subdued voice. Master, deep in conversation with my parents, waved me away, and I slipped from the wooden bench to return to my brothers and sisters. They were taking a breather, their faces red with exertion. Yuen Lung was leaning against the wall, the master’s cane at rest against his shoulder.

“So, Big Nose, how are Mommy and Daddy?” he said.

I ignored the sarcastic tone in his voice. “They’re fine,” I said.

“Are you going away, Big Brother?” piped Yuen Biao, sitting with legs outspread on the practice floor.

“Dunno,” I said. “No one’s said anything.”

Yuen Lung laughed. “Nice knowing you, Big Nose. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass when you leave.”

I clenched my fists. “I ain’t going anywhere.” Not yet, I thought to myself.

“Yah, just admit it, you’re a washout,” he said. “Just like ‘Big Brother’ Yuen Ting.”

Get angry enough, and reason and training go right out the window. Every cell in my body screamed that I couldn’t pick a fight with Big Brother, that doing so would be against hundreds of years of tradition. If I so much as raised a hand in anger in his direction, any chance I had at a career in the opera was history.

Then I remembered that it was probably history anyway. So who cared?

“Listen, Yuen Lung,” I said, my throat constricting in anger. “I’m not gonna let you push me into doing something stupid right now. You’re still my big brother. But I swear to you, the first time I run into you outside of these walls, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Yuen Lung pushed himself forward, slamming the rod hard against the wall. “You little--!” he shouted. “Ya better bring an army, shrimp, ‘cause you’re gonna need one”.

“Don’t think so,” I said, with more courage than I felt.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Yuen Lung, his grin suggesting he was looking forward to the opportunity. The rest of the kids gathered in a semicircle around us, horrified and eager at the same time. No one had ever committed the crime of challenging a big brother. Which is also to say, no one had ever had the guts to challenge a big brother. Until now. And so…the students wanted blood.

Feeling sick, I suspected they’d get it—only it was going to be mine.

“Students!” said Master, his eyes flicking suspiciously back and forth between Biggest Brother and me. We quickly dropped our hostile expressions and fell in line with the other kids. “I wish to announce a special surprise. Mr. and Mrs. Chan have brought food for a celebration feast. Today, instead of afternoon practice, we will have a going-away party!”

The assembled students screamed their approval. Even Biggest

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Brother, after throwing me a final rude gesture, relaxed his scowl and cheered—food being the ultimate peacemaker at the academy.

Only I stayed quiet.

“Hey, Big Nose, send me a picture of a koala,” said Yuen Kwai as he ran past me. “Or better yet—a naked native girl!”

It was all going the way I’d feared.

My opera life was over.

“Big Brother?”

Yuen Biao poked his head into the storage room, to find me sitting in my good pants on the dusty floor, my chin on my knees. I lifted a hand in greeting.

“What’s wrong?”

Yuen Biao came in and sat down next to me.

“Have you ever had a dream, Little Brother?” I said.

He cocked his head, thinking. “Sure,” he said. “I dream all the time. Mostly I have nightmares, though.”

“No, I mean like something you really, really want.”

Yuen Biao stared at the floor. “I really, really want to go home,” he said. “Back to my parents. Like you—you’re so lucky….”

“I don’t feel so lucky,” I said.

Little Brother looked at me in shock. “You mean, you really want to stay here? Why?”

“’Cause if I go, I won’t be able to do opera. Going onstage. The lights, the audience…you know. Being a star.”

With a strange laugh, Yuen Biao buried his face in his hands. “You think we’re really going to be stars?” he said, in a voice that sounded much too cynical coming from such a young mouth. “All we got to look forward to is more practice and more hurting and more screaming from Master, and maybe someday we’ll get to perform, but there are dozens, maybe hundreds of kids just like us out there.  And they all want to be stars, too. What makes us so special?”

I put my arm around Yuen Biao, who was sobbing gently. “Hey, Little Brother, don’t cry,” I said, trying to sound comforting. Even if I felt like joining him. “You know what makes us special? We’re the best, that’s what.”

Yuen Biao looked up and smiled, wiping his eyes.

“And I don’t care what happens. If my parents drag me away, I’ll jump off the plane. I’ll come back here, find you, and we’ll go become stars together.”

“I saw some kids doing backflips in the street last time we went to the park,” Yuen Biao said. “People were giving them money.

“We’re better than them,” I asserted. “We could get rich!”

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“No more Master,” he said.

“No more Biggest Brother,” I responded.

“I guess this is what you’d call a dream, huh, Big Brother?” said Yuen Biao.

I laughed. “Nah, a dream is when you eat until you’re sick.  And that’s what we’re gonna do right now.’ Grabbing Yuen Biao’s hand, I pulled him out of the storage room and down the corridor, toward the sound of clicking chopsticks and clattering dishes that signified a party under way.