Читать книгу Eat a Bowl of Tea - Louis Chu - Страница 11

The following afternoon, when Wah Gay got up at one o’clock, Lee Gong was already there rattling the door knob trying to get in.

The proprietor unlocked the door. “So early today?”

“Yes. I couldn’t get any sleep last night.”

The two had been friends for many years. Up till ten years ago, they had been friends who rarely saw each other. Wang Wah Gay, after a short stay in New York, had gone out to Chicago, where he became co-owner of the New Canton Restaurant on North Clark Street with his elder brother Wang Wah Lim. Elder brother Lim was in charge of the kitchen; while little brother Gay, because of his greater knowledge of the English language, was a combination manager-cashier-waiter.

On the other hand, Lee Gong’s only contact with the restaurant business had been a short three months spent as a dishwasher in a Chinese restaurant on 59th Street. This was when he first had arrived in New York from China and the restaurant since then had changed hands many times.

“I didn’t get much sleep either,” said Wah Gay. “What was the matter with you? Why didn’t you get any sleep?”

“That … that young man who was here yesterday,” Lee Gong sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette, “I forgot to ask you his name.” He tried to make it sound casual.

“You mean the one who brought me the letter?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lee Gong said impatiently.

“That was my little boy.” Wah Gay tried hard to keep from laughing out loud. “Come to think of it, it was the first time he has been here.”

Lee Gong knew that his friend Wah Gay’s son had arrived in this country a few years ago. Other than that he knew nothing. And he had had no reason to want to know more. In spite of the many letters he had been getting from his wife, Jung Shee, in China, urging him to find a suitable husband for their daughter Mei Oi, who was of a very marriageable age—just eighteen—Lee Gong had been of the opinion that his daughter was still young and there was plenty of time to find her a husband.

His many years in America had made him frown on the customary early marriages in China. During idle discussions at the Money Come, Lee Gong had often spoken out against early marriages and dependence upon the support of the parents. While he had expected Jung Shee to keep harping at him to search for a husband for Mei Oi from the Golden Mountain, he had paid little attention to these letters until yesterday, when he saw the young man whom he suspected was Wah Gay’s son.

“How many years has he got?” he pursued in earnest.

“This year he is twenty-four.”

“A very commendable boy.”

Wah Gay was not born yesterday. The moment Lee Gong mentioned Ben Loy he knew what his old friend had in mind. But he didn’t want Lee Gong to know that he knew. He was rather proud of his son Ben Loy. He had kept him on the straight path. Any girl would be lucky to have his son for a husband.

“Where does your boy work?” pursued Lee Gong.

“Ben Loy is working in Stanton, Connecticut, at the China Pagoda.”

It was almost two o’clock now and Money Come soon had enough players to start a game of mah-jong.