Paper Wife Page 8

  “From your husband,” the boy said.

  She opened the pouch; it contained crystalized ginger.

  Pasha said, “He hopes the ginger will do more to settle your stomach than it has for his.”

  “Please pass my thanks on to him,” Mei Ling replied. Regardless of how well it worked on her sea illness, her husband’s thoughtful gift was a boost to her spirits.

  A few days later, Pasha paused when it came time to serve Mei Ling her morning rice.

  He stared intently at her, leaned in, and spoke so quietly that only she could hear: “The girl will bring you great joy.”

  Mei Ling was confused. “Siew?”

  Pasha stared at Siew, his eyes glazed over. He closed his lids as if he were concentrating on something in his mind. When he opened them again, he had a sorrowful look on his face.

  He replied, “Not Siew. I cannot see past the sorrow and an enormous challenge.” He pointed at Mei Ling’s belly and leaned in. “She will bring you great joy.”

  Mei Ling’s hand went to her belly. Was she . . . ?

  She asked, “I have a . . . daughter?”

  Pasha nodded, his brown eyes clear again, calm and kind. Mei Ling staggered away with her rice. Was it possible? She considered how many weeks since her marriage night. Nearly four. Her monthly bleeding hadn’t come when she expected it, but she had attributed that to the stress of the boat.

  A baby. The thought added to her fear, but there was also excitement mixed in her spirit. She looked at Bo, the child she was already responsible for. She already cared for him so deeply. She touched her belly. This one would add love to her life as well—and joy too if Pasha was to be believed.

  She remembered the names from her grandmother: Xinyi and Jingyi. She had a sudden urge to see the moon, so she could tell it her secret to pass along to her family. Mei Ling carried their grandchild.

  CHAPTER 8

  San Francisco Bay

  May 1923

  “Come, come!” June shook Mei Ling awake. “San Francisco. We are home!”

  Home. Mei Ling didn’t share June’s excitement or sentiment, but it did give her hope. This wasn’t home now, but in ten years she might feel that it was.

  “Bring your book,” June ordered.

  Mei Ling roused the children. With the precious pages squirreled under her coat, she traipsed upstairs with the others. It was gray outside, and the air was moist with a heavy morning fog that hid the view of the city. Dread and fear built in Mei Ling. The boat wasn’t nice, but she’d found a comfortable rhythm for herself and Bo. On Angel Island she would be judged and given entry to her new life or sent back in shame. And she would have to say goodbye to June and Siew, who’d come to feel like family.

  “It is there, I promise. Soon you will see for yourself,” June declared. “The most beautiful city on earth!”

  Other people began joining them on the deck. Mei Ling scanned for Kai Li but was disappointed once again.

  “There it is! See, see.” June pointed to the land barely visible in the haze. “That way is Playland at the Beach; the other way is Marin. This is the Golden Gate.”

  She said it as if it were of great importance and had great meaning, but to Mei Ling it was a high cliff lost in fog.

  When Mei Ling didn’t respond appropriately, June declared, “The opening to San Francisco Bay!”

  Just then she heard a familiar voice quietly say, “Hello, wife.”

  Her head jerked around. Kai Li was at her side. Relief washed over her. She smiled, so glad to see him, to know that she’d have his companionship for whatever came next.

  Mei Ling took a good look at her husband. His hollowed-out cheeks and sunken eyes showed he’d lost much of his weight during the voyage. The Western suit hung off of his shoulders. Like her, he had attempted to clean up, but the grime from the journey couldn’t be properly washed away on the ship. She felt tenderness rise in her. Soon they would be in their own home, where they could eat well and bathe properly.

  “Thank you for the ginger to settle my stomach,” she said.

  He smiled shyly. “I hope it helped.”

  “It did.” She considered telling him her suspicion that she was carrying his child, but something told her to wait. It was early yet. Spirits didn’t always choose to stay. And, if Pasha’s prediction was correct, Kai Li might not welcome the news that they were having a daughter.

  “Now!” June whispered as she dropped her own book over the railing into the vast Pacific Ocean.

  No! a voice screamed in Mei Ling’s head. She might need it.

  “Now!” June insisted. “Before anyone from the island can see you. It is still far away. Better this way. I know.”

  Mei Ling looked at Kai Li. She opened up the coat for him to see what she was hiding.

  “Did you study?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You will be fine. Trust us. Your friend is right, let it go,” he said. “It’s safer that way.”

  She hung her arm down below the railing, the thick handwritten book dangling from her hand. How many hours had it taken to write down this information? How much money had it cost her husband? Fuchan had demanded that she treasure all writing, all knowledge, by caring for books. Her spirit cried no, but she apologized to the ancestors and opened her hand, sending the book flying down into the waves. She watched it hit without a splash. Slowly the salty brine soaked it up until it disappeared from sight below the surface.

  “Oh, no!” Siew cried out.

  “Not oh, no,” June corrected the girl. “It is good—the right step for being the trickiest.”

  Mei Ling put her hand to her heart and took a deep breath. Destroying the book hurt, but she told herself she had done what was necessary. She wasn’t the only one. As they passed through the Golden Gate, the two spits of land that framed the opening to the bay, she saw more books sail into the water. There were many paper companions—sons and daughters as well as wives—on this ship. Though if June was to be believed, even people who were not paper companions used the study books to get through immigration.

  They traveled along the land on the right side of the bay. Strange shrubs edged in dark green grew along the sandy shore. A movement caught the corner of her eye. She looked down and saw a man on the outside of the railing. Adrenaline flooded her body. He needed rescue! Before she could yell for help, he made eye contact and shook his head.

  She watched him inhale deeply and then let go. Her heart hammered hard as he fell into the water and disappeared under the wake of the ship. She stared at the spot where he entered the bay.

  “Man fall in,” Bo said in his sweet, high voice.

  “Where?” Kai Li asked.

  Mei Ling pointed.

  “There he is, Bo,” Kai Li said, pointing to a spot far away.

  The man was swimming to the shore.

  “Why?” Mei Ling asked, unable to form a whole question.

  “No papers,” Kai Li said with a shrug.

  They sailed past many docks that poked into the bay. San Francisco was crammed with Western buildings packed against one another all the way up the steep hills that rose from the shore. A paved road ran along the waterfront with only motorcars rushing by. Mei Ling saw no hint of plants or animals.

  “San Francisco!” June exclaimed. “The most beautiful city of all.”

  Mei Ling didn’t share June’s opinion. From the ship it was a disappointment compared to lush Hong Kong or Honolulu, and even elegant Nagasaki. This was a foreign land where she was going to be surrounded by many strangers, but it was her new home. She would find a way to appreciate it.

  The boat shuddered to a stop after a painfully slow approach to a pier next to a lovely clock tower.

  “Oakland, where I live.” June pointed across the bay. Then she pointed to the left. “And Berkeley. See the towers? They match.”

  Mei Ling studied the land. In the midst of much green she saw two towers jutting into the sky. The three towers made a large triangle. />
  “I must go now.” Kai Li interrupted the geography lesson.

  “What?” Mei Ling was unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

  “Citizens get off here. You will go to Angel Island for interrogation.” He looked pained as he pointed to land in the middle of the bay. He leaned in with a whisper. “Remember only the details from the book. Don’t say the truth, only the story from the book.”

  Her mind understood she had to lie, pretend to be Wong Lew She, but Mei Ling’s heart resisted. Daughters with integrity didn’t lie. Nor did wives. What if she wasn’t clever enough to pull off the deceit? She would be sent back to China in shame, never to see her husband again. She looked at Bo. Would he be sent back with her or given permission to land? If they didn’t believe her story, she doubted they would believe he was Kai Li’s son.

  Would his family take her in their village? Would hers? She shook her head to stop the thoughts.

  “I will think of you every day until we are together again,” Kai Li said. He rubbed Bo’s head and patted Mei Ling’s shoulder. He looked like he wanted to say or do something else, but he just turned and walked away. Her heart pounding hard, too soon she lost track of him in the crowd of dark heads.

  They studied the gangplank from above. The line moved slowly as each person, mostly men, handed over documents. A second group of people were disembarking to the right: a line for White people. Mei Ling hadn’t realized there were so many Europeans on this ship. Her angry Dragon rose when she saw that gangplank was soon empty while the Chinese, Japanese, Filipinos, and Hawaiians waited in a long line.

  Bo pointed and bounced in excitement. “Look. Look.”

  He’d spied Kai Li. They watched him pass his papers to the official in a suit, his hand shaking. The official looked Kai Li up and down. The White man spoke; Kai Li responded. The man shook his head, returned the papers, and then Kai Li walked down the wooden board to the shore. He got to the end of the walkway and onto a patch of land by the edge of the water. He put down his suitcase and waved, a small, bittersweet smile on his face. They waved back. He stood there watching them from afar as the gangplank emptied. She was touched that he stayed.

  Eventually the ship jerked away from the pier. Kai Li waved again. Mei Ling and Bo waved back until the boat turned away from the shore, leaving her husband out of sight.

  CHAPTER 9

  Angel Island

  May 1923

  The dock at Angel Island led to a lovely wooden walkway, lined by palm trees blowing in the breeze, which led to a two-story white building. A man sounded a large bell at the end of the pier, ringing out a loud welcome. Perhaps the name of this place would be fitting for the experience.

  Their band returned to the hold for their trunks. Siew had a small sack she could carry on her back. The girl was young but strong and capable. With no one else to help them with their trunks, they made a caravan. Mei Ling held Bo’s hand and one handle. Siew picked up the strap on one end of June’s trunk with both of her hands, and June, in the middle, held on to both trunks.

  They joined the line of Asian women and men disembarking. This time Mei Ling recognized the various nationalities: Japanese, of course, but also Hindoos, Sikhs, Mohammedans, and Filipinos. As they left the boat Mei Ling acknowledged the spirits: Thank you for delivering us safely to this shore.

  She looked over to see the White line of mostly Russian Jews, the women in head scarfs. One White man in a cream-colored suit screamed at a customs officer, but she couldn’t understand him.

  June leaned over. “I cannot understand him, but the agent replied in English.”

  Before June could translate, a gruff officer barked orders to them: “---- ---- ----; ----- -- ---- ----!”

  “We are on this side,” June directed. “Men go over there.”

  Mei Ling stepped onto the earth on the other side of the world. She took a big breath to steady herself as she balanced the trunk and watched out to make certain Bo and Siew were near. The ground beneath suddenly shifted. She stumbled on the smooth dirt path, nearly dropping the trunk. Mei Ling stopped to get her bearings.

  “You are dizzy from the boat,” June said. “It won’t last long. Maybe hours or days.”

  Mei Ling looked at June, confusion on her face.

  “Just walk normal,” June said. “The ground is good here, though it doesn’t feel like it. Come!”

  The man Siew had pointed out to them as her uncle, Suk Suk, walked up to them in the women’s line. Without introduction he said, “Thank you for accepting my niece into your family for the journey. Come, Siew!” And then he walked off to join the men’s line.

  Siew stared at Mei Ling, begging her with her eyes for another option. Mei Ling’s heart sank. As much as she and Bo had come to care for her, she had no right to ask that the girl stay with them.

  Before Mei Ling could form a reply, Siew shrugged, put on a smile, and pushed a paper frog into Bo’s hand. Then she ran after Suk Suk, waving as she went.

  Bo ran after her.

  “Come back,” Mei Ling yelled. The boy stopped running, his head hung down in dejection, but he didn’t return to her. Mei Ling went to him and brought him to their line. He looked as crestfallen as Mei Ling felt.

  But there was no time to dwell on any sentimental feelings. June pointed to the front of the line; they had to leave their luggage behind in a shed. It had been wise to throw the book in the ocean. Women frantically dug through their belongings, retrieving only what they could carry.

  “They say we will get it back, but I’ll believe it when I see it,” June said, laughing. “As the Americans say.”

  “How long will we be here?” Mei Ling asked.

  Her friend shrugged.

  “Last time, how long were you here?”

  “No Angel Island before. In 1909 we go to San Francisco, to a house on the wharf. I was held for one week. They made Angel Island so they can keep us longer. Some even a year, I hear.” June clicked her tongue in disapproval. Alarm rushed through Mei Ling. A year!

  Mei Ling watched the women carefully balancing their belongings piled high as they walked into the white building. Everyone had bedding as well as clothing; some held frames and even food. Standing in the hot sun, she considered her options. She could tell Bo was tired and thirsty, but he didn’t complain while they waited for their turn to leave their goods behind.

  She opened her trunk and dug through it, overwhelmed by having to make a decision with so little information. She was glad she had changed back into the filthy skirt with the coins sewed in the hem. She pulled out a change of clothing for each of them, her family pictures, and the statue of Quan Yin. She looked at Bo. He could carry his own bedding, the crystalized ginger, and the bean paste. Mei Ling saw the fabric that wrapped the stalks. She looked around. This seemed an unlikely place for these to thrive, but if she was going to be here for weeks or even months, she wanted the stalks with her. She pulled them out. Then they left the rest of their belongings behind.

  After checking in at the big white building, they were sent for a medical exam. The first room had women squatting like tree stumps. She was handed a pan and told to defecate into it. She was given no privacy besides what she could make with her own skirt.

  June passed through this requirement quickly and was moved along despite her request that she stay with her “little sister.” Mei Ling appreciated the older woman’s desire to keep together, but she would have to get through this on her own. Bo stood at her side, strangers squatted around her, and shame burned through her soul. I will do what I must, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply to relax.

  Eventually her body cooperated; not everyone was so fortunate. She walked past one old granny with tears pouring down her weathered face. The nurses weren’t cruel, but they insisted that she would need to wait here until she met this humiliating requirement.

  In the next room, with no regard for her modesty, a man gave Mei Ling a physical examination. She felt like cattl
e as he touched parts of her body, starting at her head, and spoke words to the nurse who wrote them down.

  He touched her scalp. “-- ----.”

  He lifted her eyelids and studied her face. “---- --- ---- -----.”

  He spun her around and ran his finger down her spine. “-------- -----.”

  On and on it went, seemingly never-ending. Mei Ling felt her eyeballs burning; she bit her tongue hard enough to make it bleed, the shock of pain chasing away potential tears.

  Bo stayed at her side, quiet and meek without Siew. Mei Ling’s heart twisted at the thought of the little girl going through this humiliation on the other side. Was she being exposed to the men as they were examined? As much as she wanted to know, she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself by asking about Siew. Her greatest desire was to get through this ordeal as quickly as possible. She did the one thing that was available to her—pray: Quan Yin, please watch over her.

  It was nearly dark by the time Mei Ling and Bo were through the trial and pointed toward the women’s dormitory. Her stomach growled as they climbed the wooden stairs. She thought of Pasha, offering food to the women in the hold of the ship. The boat was sailing back to Shanghai. Continuing the loop, though with fewer Chinese on the return to the United States if the immigration restrictions served their purpose.

  The large dorm room was full of Chinese women of various ages. Large metal poles ran from floor to ceiling on two sides of the room. Three layers of mesh beds were attached on each side of the poles. A few were folded up like a butterfly’s wing, but most were folded down and covered with personal belongings.

  Narrow walkways passed between the bunks, and clotheslines were strung up between the poles, blocking the view. The last rays of the sun coming through the metal-covered windows confirmed her fear that this was a prison, not a guesthouse.

  “Here, here.” The sound of June’s familiar, bossy voice sent a wave of relief shivering down Mei Ling’s spine. She smiled at Bo, and they walked to the spot where the words had come from.