Читать книгу Mandarin Mannequins of Chinatown - Patricia Laurel - Страница 4

BANG! The oak door of the Edwardian condo slammed loudly. Angry footsteps clomped up the stairs. The girl’s ponytail swished furiously as if to announce that she was in no mood to be messed with.

She threw her lunch box and backpack on the floor, kicked off her slip-ons and sent one flying in the air. Her almond-shaped eyes were flashing dangerous daggers like the women in her mother’s family when they get riled; her lanky frame tense and rigid.

“Someone had a really bad last day at school. I’m amazed you didn’t turn the door to kindling,” a quiet female voice said behind her.

“Oh. Hi Mom. Hi Dad,” Sammy looked down at the floor, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, kissing her parents. She retrieved the thrown shoe and placed it neatly beside its partner.

Samantha Plum, 10-years old, resident of Bush Street in the Pacific Heights area in the city of San Francisco, California, was indeed having a bad day

“So, Sammy, I take it the excursion did not go well,” Jack Plum said, hugging her. Sammy relaxed in her father’s bear hug.

“Let’s go in the kitchen, Sweetie,” Yvonne Plum said. “We have something to tell you that will make you feel better, but you obviously need to tell us something first.”

They followed Yvonne to her spotless kitchen. The whole condo smelled of lemon-scented Lysol — Yvonne always cleaned and set things right with a passion.

Jack was more easy-going. His wife forbade him to help around the house afraid he might not do it right. He’d given up trying to follow Yvonne’s way of getting things done. He was content to retreat in the quiet of his study, to read or work on his laptop for as long as it took his wife to finish her household chores.

Sammy loved hanging out in the kitchen with her mother; watching and sometimes helping Yvonne prepare meals. One of her many favorite things was the feel of the hardwood floor on her bare feet, sliding on the gleaming surface in her bunny slippers from her bedroom to the kitchen; sitting on the bench of their breakfast nook looking out the window and petting Delilah, the resident fat and furry beige-colored cat.

Once in a while, a shriek from Yvonne announced that Delilah had brought home a present of a still quivering bird or mouse which she dumped on the windowsill or the floor. Jack became useful and disposed of the poor animal.

Sammy petted the purring cat, picked her up and scooted down the bench to make room for her parents. On the table were a wrapped present and a plate of her beloved cream puffs, covered with sticky caramel glaze from their French friend Marie-Jeanne’s bakery on Fillmore Street.

Her eyes lit up, but she waited for the right moment — talk time first.

“What happened? I knew you weren’t too keen about going on this excursion to Alcatraz, but you changed your mind and said it would be interesting to see the island and the old prison with your classmates. It’s something else, isn’t it?” Jack asked.

“I tried not to let it get to me before, but this time it just got too much,” Sammy said, biting her lip. “I can defend myself, but this girl Maya is a special student who can’t handle all the teasing.”

“What were they teasing Maya about?” Yvonne asked, and suddenly snapped her fingers. “Of course! Maya is that sweet, beautiful girl who sits in your class. I’ve met her mother.”

“These girls at school think they’re so hip. They don’t have anything in their heads, except brushing and tossing their silly hair around and imitating the way their singing goddess talk,” Sammy said, gritting her teeth.

“All they do is buy teeny bopper magazines and read all about what their idol had for breakfast and who her latest boyfriend is. I mean, what’s up with that?”

“Singer?” Jack asked. “Oh, you mean that girl who struts around on stage in her underwear and doesn’t really sing anything? Sam, it’s all just marketing hype. Pretty girls and boys are a dime a dozen. It’s what public relations sharks sell to adoring fans. Soon this pretty singer will be yesterday’s news in the plastic fantastic world of celebrities.”

Sammy smiled. Dad sure had a way with words.

“She sets a bad example for young girls,” Yvonne said. “She doesn’t even have an original thought. I’ve seen her interviewed on TV, and after a few minutes of drivel I turned it off in disgust.”

“OK, so the little vamp is not a real artist,” Jack said. “Now let’s hear the reason you’re so riled up.”

“When those girls tease me, I just ignore them, but today they were picking on Maya.” Sammy said, the anger creeping back.

“They circled Maya and kept saying her mother dresses her funny. At first, she just stood there, smiling at them. And then Maya started waving her arms and tried to get away, but they held her there. They just laughed and laughed.”

Red tinges formed on Sammy’s cheeks. “So, I went over and yanked one of the girl’s arm to get to Maya, but she lost her balance and fell hard on her butt.”

Jack stifled a laugh. Yvonne gave him a frown.

“Her friends ran to our teacher Mrs. Ramirez, and told her that I picked a fight with their girlfriend, who was still on the ground crying,” Sammy said, looking at her mother. “I told Mrs. Ramirez that I was just trying to help Maya, but I think you’re going to get a call from her.”

“I don’t want you fighting, Sammy, but in this case I would have done the same thing,” Yvonne said. “I’ll call Mrs. Ramirez tomorrow.”

Sammy felt much better now Not only was her mom the pickiest, cleanest person in the world, she was also good with confrontations. She never backed down, especially when righting a wrong.

The problem discussed, with hopefully a solution to solve it, Sammy turned her attention to the treats on the table. The present wrapped in cool blue metallic paper and the cream puffs begging to be eaten.

Yvonne looked at her daughter’s face full of anticipation. “Put that cat down and wash your hands before you eat one of those,” she said, pointing at the cream puffs.

Sammy let go of the indignant Delilah whose purring time had been interrupted, and ran to the sink to wash her hands. She returned to the table and began scarfing down one of the cream puffs. Munching happily she pointed at the wrapped present.

“Um, who is the present for?” Sammy asked, between mouthfuls.

“We thought you needed a new one since the other one’s all used up from your last trip. And what a trip that was! Who would ever believe all the stuff happened, except the family, of course,” Yvonne said, thinking back to a year ago when her daughter, her mother and siblings were in danger from the duwende and her treacherous cousin, Jenny.

“Go ahead and open it.”

Sammy unwrapped the present. “Oh, great. I only have a few pages left in my journal. Thanks, you guys,” she said, eyeing the bright lime green plastic case of her new journal.

It was bigger than the old one, and had more space for the collage of drawings and photographs she would use to describe her journey.

Her old bright pink journal saved all of them a year ago.

“Write down all the anger you felt toward those girls, and what you did to defend Maya, even though it was unintentional,” Jack said. “It will make you feel a whole lot better.”

“OK, Dad,” Sammy said, closing her new journal. She looked up to see Jack staring at Yvonne.

Something else was up, and it didn’t have anything to do with her. A nagging feeling tagged at her as she watched her parents. They had been too quiet lately.

“You didn’t get to the best part,” Yvonne said, interrupting her thoughts. “There’s something inside you missed.”

Sammy leafed through the pages until she got to the back casing. A bulky envelope fell out. She opened it. An airline ticket jacket and a small card were in it.

She took out the ticket. “We’re going to the Philippines? Oh wow, wait until I tell Ollie. This is great!” She picked up the card. It read:

Dear Samantha,

Your birthday’s coming up, and because you did so well in school, and especially because you are our special girl.

Love,

Mom and Dad

p.s. May your next adventure be a very happy one!

Sammy got up and hugged her parents. “This is the coolest birthday present. But Mom, if we’re leaving soon, how come we don’t have boxes and boxes to pack?”

“You know me too well, Sammy,” Yvonne said, laughing. “It’s not our turn to give the fiesta, that is another family’s responsibility. We had our turn last year.”

“So, we’re not going to go nuts packing this time?” Sammy asked.

“No boxes this time, promise. Well, maybe a box for the obligatory pasalubongs,” Yvonne said. “But it’s only you going this time. Your Dad and I will stay here.”

“Huh?” Sammy looked at her parents. “That’s no fun.”

“You’re not going alone,” her mother said. “You’re flying with Tita Mari and Victoria. Tita Patti is already there.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Sammy said. “Isn’t she learning pottery from her friend Ugu?”

“Yes, and you guys will be staying for a couple of days in Honolulu to visit with John, Solo and Nani before flying to Manila,” Yvonne said.

“Wow! That’s way cool. When do I go?” Sammy asked, flipping through the airline ticket.

“Next week. We need to do some shopping and organize the things you’ll need for your trip,” Yvonne said.

“Ah, that’s your mother. The woman we all know and love,” Jack said, getting up. “I think I’ll retreat to my sanctuary and let you two plan the trip. I know when I’m not needed.”

Sammy watched her father get up. Was it her imagination, or did she see another look pass between her parents? The look adults exchanged when things weren’t right, and children were not allowed to know.

“Mom, is everything all right? Is something’s going on between you and Dad?” Sammy asked, watching the door close behind her father.

“It’s just a minor thing that your Dad and I need to work on. Don’t worry about it. Things will be back to normal by the time you’re home from your trip,” Yvonne said, looking at the closed door of the study.

“Ok,” Sammy said, but an uneasy feeling came over her.

“C’mon, let’s get busy. We’ll go to Fillmore and browse around, and then we’ll shop for pasalubongs and supplies,” Yvonne said, nudging her daughter out of the kitchen. “Go get ready while I clean up here.”

Sammy walked to her room, turned around and saw her mother’s bent head leaning on the kitchen counter, as if concentrating her next move. The expression on Yvonne’s face was a look her daughter only saw once — a year ago when the duwende and cousin Jenny wreaked revenge on the family.

It was a look of worry, uncertainty and fear of the unknown.

Sammy closed her bedroom door and sat on her bed crossed-legged with hands on her knees. She cleared her mind, inhaled, held her breath and slowly let the air out, just like Tita Patti had taught her.

“It’s like Yoga, you breathe in slowly through the nose, and exhale the same way. Do it several times. Your body begins to calm down, and clarity and peace of mind take over,” her aunt instructed her.

Tita Patti, where are you? I need to talk with you, Sammy reached out to her aunt.

Mind talk, the gift handed down to her and her aunt from their ancestors. Sammy had discovered her ability to mind talk during her first trip to the Philippines.

Patti had the gift since she was a child, but refused to accept it until she was an adult. It frightened her and it was only when the family was threatened that she was able to finally come to terms with it.

Under the guidance of Solo, their special friend from Hawaii and Lolo Ciano, their spirit ancestor, Sammy and Patti learned to use the gift.

Lolo Ciano said the mind talk was most likely inherited from the family’s Chinese ancestor, Cue Yi-Lam, a merchant from the Fujian province in the south of China who emigrated to the Philippines before it became a colony of Spain.

Sammy and Patti discovered that along with mind talk, they possessed other abilities: they could see and converse with spirits, send messages to people in their dreams, dream of things to come, and transport themselves back in time, but only as observers. No interaction was allowed. Touching someone from the past would bring the visitor back to the present time. Lolo Ciano, on the other hand, could materialize and touch someone in the present.

Tita Patti, are you there?

What’s up, Sam? Sorry, I was in the middle of throwing. I have to concentrate or else clay will splatter all over Ugu’s studio. Not bad for a first attempt at pottery. What’s on your mind, sweetie?

Have you talked with my Mom lately? Is there something going on with her and my Dad?

Why do you say that? Are things not right with the world in the Plum household? Sorry, your question is serious, and I’m making light of it. What do you mean?

I’m not sure, but I get the feeling they’re having problems and hiding it from me.

I haven’t spoken with your Mom. Did you ask Tita Mari? She usually knows what’s going on in the family. We don’t call her Radio Mari for nothing. Oops, sorry Sweetie. I must be in a good mood today. I haven’t been lately . . . I’ve got the dreaded writer’s block. I seem to be all tapped out and my concentration is gone and missing.

Patti had the first book of her young adult trilogy published the year before. She was working on the second book. Her main character was a 10-year-old girl based on her favorite niece Samantha.

You’ll get it back, Tita Patti. You must be stressing out over something you don’t know about. What is your new book about?

That’s just it. I don’t have a clue. I can’t get a plot going. Writing for young adults is not an easy thing.

I have all these words running around in my brain, but I cannot seem to formulate the nasty things into sentences and paragraphs. Ugh! But forget about me . . . let’s get back to what’s eating you. Is this the first time you’ve noticed a problem between your parents?

“Sammy?” Her mother’s gentle whisper broke into her mind conversation with her aunt.

Gotta go, Tita Patti. My mom just came in.

OK. Don’t forget to ask Tita Mari, and let me know. I’m in the dark here. I can’t get a signal on my cell phone here at Ugu’s. I’m way out in the country and you'll need a special visa to get here. Get it? Ha, ha, just kidding. Give my love to your mom.

Where is Ugu’s place?

In a place called Tiaong. It’s not far from San Pablo. You’ll love it here. I consider it my refuge. If you come for a visit, I’ll give you a tour of the place. Tchuss, mein schatz. That means goodbye, my treasure in German.

OK. Talk to you later.

“Who are you talking to up there?” Yvonne asked, patting Sammy on the head.

“I was just chatting with Tita Patti. She sends her love. Oops, I forgot to tell her I’m going to be there soon.”

“I’m sure she’ll find out soon enough. Are you ready to go?”

“Sure.”

Sammy thought it strange that her mother didn’t even ask how her sister was doing. Come to think of it, Yvonne hardly mentioned her family these days.

Another important part of her mother’s ritual was missing as well. Tita Mari’s daily calls and their long conversations hadn’t been happening lately. Sammy creased her forehead. A lot of serious adult things were going on that a 10-year old girl could barely grasp.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Yvonne said, gently rubbing the crease from her daughter’s forehead. “Things will work out. Your Dad and I are in a funk, and we need to sort things out. That’s all.”

“OK, Mom.”

“Let’s get away from this gloom and doom talk, and do some fun things for a change. What do you say?” Yvonne said, leading her daughter out into the hallway.

Shopping bags later, mother and daughter were crossing the busy street of Fillmore, carrying on like they didn’t have a care in the world. They stopped at Marie-Jeanne's bakery, and for once, her mother allowed Sammy to eat the delectable cream puffs twice in a day. Whatever was troubling Yvonne and nagging at Sammy was temporarily forgotten.

The two of them together, they could face whatever trouble came their way.