Searching for Sylvie Lee A Novel (Jean Kwok)

Dedication
ToErwin,Stefan,andMilan
Inmemoryof
mybelovedbrother,Kwan
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Part1
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Part2
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Part3
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Part4
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Part5
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
AlsobyJeanKwok
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
Part1
Chapter1
Amy
Monday,May2
IamstandingbythewindowofoursmallapartmentinQueens,watchingasMaandPaleavefortheirjobs.Half-hiddenbytheworncurtainsMasewedherself,Iseethemwalksidebysidetothesubwaystationdownthestreet.Attheentrance,theypauseandlookateachotherforamoment.Here,Ialwaysholdmybreath,waitingforPatotouchMa’scheek,orforMatoburstintotears,orforeitherofthemtogivesomesmallsignofthetruthoftheirrelationship.Instead,Maraisesherhandinanawkwardwave,thedrapeofherblackshawlexposingherslenderforearm,andPashufflesintotheopenmouthofthestationasthemorningtrafficroarsdownourbusystreet.ThenMaducksherheadandcontinuesherwalktothelocaldrycleanerswheresheworks.
Isighandstepawayfromthewindow.Ishouldbedoingsomethingmoreproductive.WhyamIstillspyingonmyparents?BecauseI’manadultlivingathomeandhavenothingbettertodo.IfIdon’twatchout,I’mgoingtoturnintoMa.Timid,dutiful,toilingatajobthatpaysnothing.Andyet,I’vecaughtglimpsesofanotherMaandPaovertheyears.ThepassionthatflickersoverherfaceasshereadsChineseromancenovelsinthenight,theonesPascorns.ThewayPareachesforherelbowwhenhewalksbehindher,catcheshimself,andpullsbackhishand.Ipassbymyclosetofabedroom,andtheposterthathangsonthewallcatchesmyeye—barelyvisiblebehindtheteeteringpilesofpapersandlaundry.It’saquoteI’vealwayslovedfromWillaCather:“Theheartofanotherisadarkforest,always,nomatterhowcloseithasbeentoone’sown.”I’mnotsureIbelievethesentimentbutherwordsneverfailtounsettleme.
OurcrampedapartmentstillsmellsfaintlyoftheincenseMaburnedthismorninginfrontofhermother’saltar.GrandmadiedinAmsterdamaweekago.ShelivedtherewiththeTanfamily:Ma’scousinHelena;Helena’shusband,Willem;andtheirson,Lukas,whoisthirty-threeyearsold,thesameageasmyoldersister,Sylvie.InevermetGrandmabutMa’sgriefhaspouredovermelikeawaterfalluntilmyownheartoverflowsaswell.TheskinaroundMa’seyesisrubbedredandraw.Thepastfewevenings,whilePahidintheirbedroom,IheldMa’shandasshehuddledonthesofa,stiflinghersobs,attemptingtostemtheendlessstreamoftearswithanold,crumpledtissue.Iwearblacktodaytoo,forMa’ssake,whilePadressesinhisnormalclothing.It’snotthathedoesn’tcare.It’sthathecan’tshowusthathedoes.
SylvielivedwithGrandmaandHelena’sfamilyintheNetherlandsforthefirstnineyearsofherlife,andflewbackthereamonthago,assoonassheheardGrandmawasill.She’shandlingaconsultancyprojectforherfirmthereaswell.DazzlingSylvie,sevenyearsolderthanme,yankedfromherglamorouslifeinEuropebacktoourcabbage-scentedapartmentinQueenswhenIwasonlytwoyearsold.Oftenthere’sadichotomybetweenthebeautifulsisterandthesmartone,butinourfamily,bothofthosequalitiesbelongtomysister.Andme,Iamonlyashadow,anafterthought,afalteringecho.IfIdidn’tloveSylviesomuch,I’dhateher.
HowdidabrilliantcreaturelikeSylviearisefromsuchmundanestockasourmaandpa?AnytimeIhadateacherinelementaryorhighschoolwho’dtaughtSylvie,they’dsay,“Ah,you’reSylvieLee’slittlesister,”rifewithanticipation.Iwouldthenwatchastheirhighhopesturnedtobewildermentatmystutteringslowness.Thiswasfollowedbytheirdisappointmentand,finally,theirindifference.SylviewenttoPrincetonundergrad,earnedamaster’sinchemicalengineeringfromMIT,workedafewyears,thenwentbacktoschoolforherMBAfromHarvard.Nowshe’samanagementconsultant,whichisaprofessionI’llneverunderstandnomatterhowmanytimesshetriestoexplainit.Likeme,Sylvieadoresallsweets,butunlikeme,shenevergainsanounce.Ihavewatchedhereatoneeggtartafteranotherwithoutanyeffectonhereleganthips,asifthesheerintensityofherwillburnsthecalories,consumingeverythingshetouches.Sheusedtohavealazyeyewhenshewaslittleandworeaneyepatchforyears.Nowtheonlyimperfectioninherlovelyfaceisthatherrighteyestillshiftsslightlyoutwardwhenshe’stired.Mostpeopledon’tevennotice,butIsometimesconsolemyselfwiththistinyfaultofSylvie’s—See,she’snotsoperfectafterall
IgotothepockmarkedcabinetwhereIhavecarefullywrappedandhiddenaclusterofsmallorangeloquatfruits.IfI’dleftthemonthevinylkitchentabletopandPahadcaughtsightofthevulnerablesnailhiddenamongthepear-shapedfruit,hewouldhavekilledit.PaworksinafishmarketinChinatown.He’sbeenforcedtobecomeinsensitivetodeath—allthosefishgaspingonthewoodenchoppingblockuntilheendsthemwithhiscleaver.
Thetinysnailwithitstranslucentshellisstillperchedononeoftheloquatsandseemsfine.AnythingstrongenoughtosurvivesuchanarduousjourneyfromChinadeservesachancetomakealifeforitself.Itakeausedplasticbag,gentlylowertheloquatandsnailintoit,andheadforthedoor.Ishrugintoalightjacketandgrabmywalletandcellphone.BeforeIstepoutside,Iremovemythickpurpleglassesandshovethemintomypocket.Idon’tbothertoputinmycontacts.Vanitypluslazinessadduptomylivinginablurryworldmuchofthetime.
Itrudgethefewblockstothesmallparknearourhome.It’searlyenoughthatsomeoftheshopsarestillgatedandIshiverasachillybreezesweepsdowntheconcretesidewalk.Abitterstinkarisesfromthewideimpersonalasphaltoftheroad,linedbyblankbuildingsthathavealwaysintimidatedme.Amotherdraggingasmall,grubbychildbehindheravertshereyesasshepasses.Noonemakeseyecontactinthisdenselypopulated,lonely,anddispiritingplace—nooneexceptforguystryingtohitonyou.Agroupofthemarehangingoutnowinfrontofabrokenstorewindowwithalargesignthatsayssomethingaboutfiftypercentoff.Theyaremerebruisesinmyperipheralvisionastheyyellafterme,“Nihao!CanIputmyeggrollinyourricepatty?”andthenbreakintoraucouslaughter.Dotheyhavetosaythesamedumbthingeveryday?Aslongastheymaintaintheirdistance,thevaguenessofmyvisionisascomfortingasacocoon.WhenI’mpracticallyblind,IcanpretendI’mdeaftoo.
Oneday,I’mgoingtoreturntomyprogramatCUNYandfinishmyteachingcredentialsoIcangetoutofthisplace.I’llmoveMaandPatoo.Itdoesn’tmatterthatIdroppedoutlastyear.Icandoit.Ialreadyhavemymaster’sinEnglish;I’malmostthere.Icanseemyselfstandinginfrontofaclassofkids:theyareriveted,laughingatmyjokes,eyeswideatthebrillianceoftheliteraturetheyarereading,andIdon’ttripoverasingleword.
Wakeup,Amy.Allyouarenowisasaviorofsnails,whichisnotnecessarilyabaddevelopment
SylvieandIwerebothraisedBuddhist,andsomeideas,likealllifebeingprecious,havestayedwithus.Whenwewerelittle,we’dracearoundtheapartmentwithbutterflynets,catchingfliesandreleasingthemoutdoors.However,asevidencedbyPaandthekilling-fish-and-many-other-sea-creaturesthing,religiononlygoessofarwhenconfrontedbytheharshgrindofdailylife.
TheparkisstillrecoveringfromtheseverewinterwehadandIstruggletofindanice,leafyarea.Iambendingdownwiththesnailheldgingerlybetweenforefingerandthumbwhenmycellphonerings.Ijumpandalmostdropthesnail.Isetitdown,managetopullmyphoneoutofmyjacket,andsquinttoreadthenumber.Iamjustabouttoanswerwhenthecallerhangsup.Thenumber’slong,beginningwith+31.I’veseenthisbeforeonSylvie’sphone.It’ssomeonefromtheNetherlands—probablymydistantcousinLukas,excepthe’snevercalledmebefore.HeonlyspeakstoSylvie.
IconsiderthecostofcallingLukasinAmsterdamandwince.Hopefullyhe’lltrymeagainsoon.Instead,Iheadforthelocalmusicshop.Ilovetolingerinoneoftheirlisteningstationsbutalmostneverbuyanything.Mystomachclenchesatthethoughtofmystaggeringmountainofstudentloans,builtupdegreebydegree.Yearsofflailingaround,tryingtofigureoutwhatIwantedtodowithmylifebeforedecidingonteaching—andthen,thatoldstutterofmineresurfacingasIstoodinfrontofthegrouppracticingmyteachingassignments.Ihaveoutgrownit,mostofthetimeanyway,butthefearofmystutterprovedtobeaspowerfulasthethingitself:allthoseblankfaces,mypanicsuffocatingmelikeathickblanket.SometimesIthinkIshouldhavestayedanuneducatedimmigrantlikeMaandPa.Somefledglingsleavethenestandsoar,likeSylvie;othersflutter,andflutter,thentumbletotheground.Intheend,Icouldn’tfacemyclassmatesandteachersanymore.AndSylvie,ofcourse,wastheonewhobailedmeoutwhenmyloanspassedtheirgraceperiod.Shetookoverthepaymentswithoutaword.
Sylvie’srich,atleastcomparedtome,butshe’snotsowealthythatshecanshoulderthatburdenwithoutfeelingit.Sheandherhusband,Jim,areevenmoreweigheddownwithstudentdebtthanIam,andJimdoesn’tmakemuchmoneyasaguidancecounseloratapublicschoolinBrooklyn.Eventhoughhe’sfromoldmoney,Jim’sparentsbelievethatkidsshouldmakeitontheirown,sohewon’tseeacentofhiswealthuntiltheypasson.Thatis,exceptfortheridiculouspresenttheygavehimwhenhemarriedSylvie.Asforme,insteadofhelpingMaandPa,whohavealreadyspentsomanyyearsworkingtheirfingerstothebone,I’mlivingintheirapartmentandeatingtheirfood.Itemphereandtherebutdespitemyabilitytotypereallyfast,theonlytrueskillIhave,workhasbeenscarce.It’stheeconomy,Itelleveryone,butofcourseIknowbetter.It’sme.SylvietellsmeI’mnotfulfillingmypotentialandItellhertoshutupandleavemealone.
Insidetheshop,IheadfortheclassicalsectionandbegintorelaxassoonasIhearthelustrousandvelvetyvoiceofAnnaNetrebkofloatingfromtheloudspeakers.She’ssingingVerdi.NeatracksofCDssitbesiderowsofmusicalscoresandbinafterbinofvinylrecords.Oldguitarsandviolinslinethewalls.Ilovethewayitsmellsofpaper,lacquer,andlemondetergent.Zach,thecuteguy,isworkingagain.Atleast,Ibelievehe’sattractive.It’shardtobesurewithoutmyglasses,whichIwouldn’tbecaughtdeadinaroundhim.Tome,thelinesofhisfaceandbodyareappealing,andIlovehisvoice—warm,rich,andclear.Healwayssoundslikehe’ssmilingatme.
“Hey,Amy.Whatwouldyouliketolistentothisweek?”
ItrytoexpressfriendlinesswithmyfacebutthinkI’vewoundupcontortingmyfeaturesintosomethingextremelyawkward.“D-doyouhaveanysuggestions?”
He’sonlysupposedtoallowpayingcustomerstosamplethemusicbutneverseemstomindmylingeringvisits.“Well,howaboutsomeJosephSzigeti?”
Inmyenthusiasm,Iforgettobeshy.“IjustreadanarticleabouthisversionoftheProkofievConcertono.1inD.”
“It’sphenomenal,”hesays,pullingoutaCD.“He’sproofthattechnicalperfectionisn’teverything.”
Butaswewalkovertothelisteningstationtogether,myphonerings.
“I’msosorry,”Imumble.“Ihavetotakethiscall.”Iduckmyheadandleavethestore.ImanagetoanswermycellintimeandthemomentIhearLukas’svoice,Iknowsomethingiswrong.
Thelineisfullofstatic,probablyduetothetransatlanticcall.Icovermyotherearwithmyhandtotrytohearhimmoreclearly.
“Amy,ImustspeaktoSylvierightaway,”Lukassays.HisvoiceisstrainedwithurgencyandhisDutchaccentisheavierthanI’dexpected.
Iwrinklemybrow.“Butshe’sintheNetherlandsrightnow,withyou.”
HebreathesinsosharplyIcanhearitoverthephone.“What?No,sheisnot.SheflewbackonSaturday.Sheshouldhavearrivedbynow.Haveyounotheardfromher?”
“W-wedidn’tevenknowshewascominghome.IjustspokewithherafterGrandma’sfuneral.Whenwasthat?Thursday,right?Ithoughtshe’dstayawhilelonger.Shealsomentionedherprojecttherewasn’tfinishedyet.”
“Sylvieisnotansweringherphone.Iwantverytospeakwithher.”
Precise,responsibleSylviewouldhaveletusknowrightawayifshewereback.ShewouldhavecometoseeMaandtellheraboutGrandma.Myheartstartstothroblikeawoundunderneathmyskin.
Theremustbesomesimpleexplanation.Itrytosoundreassuring.“Don’tworry,I’llfindoutwhat’sgoingon.”
“Yes,pleaseseewhatthesituationis.Whenyoufindher,askhertocallme,okay?Immediately.”Thereisapainfulpause.“Ihopesheisallright.”
IquicklyputonmyglassesandhurrytothedrycleanerswhereMaworks.ThefaintsmellofsteamandchemicalsengulfsmeasIpushopenthedoor.IfindMastandingbehindthelongcounter,talkinginherbrokenEnglishtoawell-dressedwomanwithsleek,honey-blondhair.
“Wewerequitehorrifiedtofindoneofthebuttonslooseafterwepickedthisup,”thecustomersays,pushingaman’spin-stripedshirttowardMa.
“Sosorry.”Ma’ssmallfacelookswanandpaleagainstherblackclothing,hereyespuffyfromcrying.“Ifix.”
Thewomantapsamanicurednailagainstthecountertop.Hertoneisbothirritatedandcondescending,asifshe’sspeakingtoachildwhohasmisbehaved.“It’snotreallythequalityweexpect,especiallyafteryourpriceswentup.”
“Sosorry,”Marepeats.
Iglareatthewoman’sbonyback.Iwanttotellherthattheownerhikeduptheprices.Mahadnothingtodowithit.She’sneverevengottenaraiseinthelongyearsshe’sworkedhere—standingonherfeetallday,liftingheavybundlesofclothing,steaming,ironing,andmending.ButIkeepmymouthshut.IwaituntilthecustomerfinishesberatingMaandleaves.
AsmilelightsupMa’sface,despitehergrief,whensheseesme.EventhoughIcanunderstandsomeChinese,Ineverlearnedtospeakitwell,soMaalwaystalkstomeinEnglish.“Amy,whyyouhere?”
Ihadresolvednottoworryherbutfindmyselfgrabbingherwrist,crumplingherthinpolyesterblouse.“CousinLukasjustcalled.HesaysSylvieflewhomethispastweekend,butshe’snotpickingupherphone.”
“Ayyah.”Macovershermouthwithherotherhand.Herlargedarkeyesshowtoomuchwhite.“Shenottellusshecominghome.Shemustbeokay.Justamistake.Youcallah-Jim?”
“Itriedallthewayherebuthe’snotanswering.Therehaven’tbeenanyplanecrashesoranything,right?”
“Ofcoursenot!Whatyousaying!”MabrushesherforeheadthreetimeswithherdelicatelefthandtowardofftheevilofthewordsIjustuttered.ShestaresatmeuntilIleaninsoshecandothesametome.We’realmostexactlythesameheightandwhenIcatchsightofourreflectionsinthestoremirror,I’mremindedofhowmuchwelookalike—exceptthatIwearthickglassesandcan’tcomparetothephotosofMainheryouth.ShehadbeentheloveliestgirlinourvillageinGuangdong.Nowinherfifties,herskinisstillfinewithonlyalightetchingoflines,asilkycreamthatsetsoffherwarmeyes,andthere’ssomethinggentleyetwildinhergaze,likeadeerinthewoods.“Yougototheirplace.Seewhathappening.Usethekey,indrygingerjarathome.”
“Ihavemyownkey.Sylviegaveittomebeforesheleft.Butareyousure,Ma?”IcringeatthethoughtofenteringSylvie’shousewithoutpermission.Mymindraces:WhatifJim’sthere?What’shappeningtous?WhatcouldhavehappenedtoSylvie?
“Sure,sure,”shesays.“Yougonow.Quick.”
Chapter2
Ma
Monday,May2
IwasasignorantasthefrogatthebottomofthewellwhenIletSylviereturntoHolland.HowmanytimesmustIsurrendermydaughtertothatlandofwindandfogandloss?Shealreadyspentthefirstnineyearsofherlifethere—andthen,onemoonago,whensheheardmyma,hergrandma,wasfacingdeath,sherushedtobookherticketforAmsterdam.Sylviewasbutaleaf,witheringfromhomesickness,flutteringdownwardtoreturntotherootsofitsowntree.
IwassobusywithMrs.Hawkins,whosefairskinhiduglyfeatures,thatIdidnotnoticewhenAmyenteredthedrycleaners.Mypooryoungergirl,herfacestunnedwithfear,chewingonherchappedlipswithoutrealizing.Ididnotwanttorevealmysoul-burdenstoher,especiallysinceshewaswearinghereyelensesforonce.Herheartknowsenoughasitis.
IsatdowntosewtighterthebuttonMrs.Hawkinscomplainedabout.IhadshownittoMr.Hawkinswhenhepickeduptheshirtandhehadsaiditwasnotaproblem.ButhemustbemorethansixtyyearsoldandMrs.Hawkinsclosertoforty.Heisanoldcoweatingyounggrass,andsohemustpaythepriceforhispleasure.AsIworked,mymindwanderedbacktotheblackesttimeinmylife.Itwasmorethanthirtyyearsago,whenIgavemysix-moon-oldSylvietoGrandmatoberaisedinHolland.TheworstthingaboutitwasthatIknewwhatIwasdoing.Ihadnoexcuse.
PaandIhadjustmovedtotheBeautifulCountry,andonallsideswerethesongsofChu—wewereisolatedandwithouthelp.IalreadyhadthebigstomachwithSylvie.Therewasnowaytomendthepenafterthegoatswerelost.NeitherofuscouldspeakawordoftheBraveLanguage,English.Pahunchedoverhisbowlofbarericewithnomeatorvegetables,onlysoysauce,hidinghiseyeswithhisroughenedhandasheate.Hestilllovedmethenwiththeinnocenceofhisgreenyears,andthehollowsofhisyoungfacefilledwithguiltratherthanaccusationwhenhegazedatme.
Weatebitternessandtriedathousandways,ahundredplans,butwhenthetigerventuresfromthemountainstotheplains,itisbulliedbydogs.Noonewouldhelpusorgiveusworkuntil,finally,PafoundajobatthefishmarketinChinatown.Thatwasbutonestrandofcowhairamongninecows.Howcoulditbeenough?AndthingswouldonlygetworseafterIdeliveredmybaby.ManyothercoupleslikeussenttheirlittleonesbacktoChinatoberaisedbyfamily.ThatwastheirplanbeforetheyevercametotheBeautifulCountry.ButIsworeIwouldneverletgoofmylovelyswallow-girl.
ThenMa’sletterarrived.ShehadmovedtoHollandwithmypossessing-moneycousinHelenaandHelena’shusband,Willem,andtheyhadjustbirthedababyboynamedLukas.Grandmaspokeofthecoolairconditions,theamplebroadnessoftheirhouse,howHelenaburdenedherheartthatLukaswouldgrowlargeastheonlychildoftheCentralKingdomintheirneighborhood.ThereweretoofewChineseinHolland,asHelenaherselfknewwell.Thatwasthereasonshe’dreturnedtoourvillageintheCentralKingdomtosnatchupthegood-to-look-atWillemasherown.
Iscannedtheletter,jealousthatHelenahadstolenmymatocareforherson.IwouldhavegivenanythingtohaveGrandmawithmehereinthisstrangeandhostileBeautifulCountry.ButwhenIlookedaroundthetinyspacePaandIwerecrammedinto,Ibroughtmyheartinaccordwithbothemotionsandreason.Helena’sfamilypossessedmoneyandtheycouldprovideforbothGrandmaandtheirbaby.Imademyselfeatmydiscontent.Helena’sownparentsweretoobusywiththeirmultipatternedlivestohelpHelenaandWillemwiththeirchild.IshouldbegratefultheyhadofferedGrandmaabetterhealthsituationthanshehadhadinChina.
IreadonandrealizedHelenawasputtingforwardmorethanthat.Myheartstem,Grandmawrote,ifyouweretoentrustyourmostpreciousfruittome,perhapsitmightalleviatesomeofyourburden.ItisattheaskingofyourcousinHelenathatIwritethis.SheandWillemwouldcareforyourchildliketheirowncubuntilyouareabletocareforheryourself.OrcometoHollandsimplytoseeyouroldmaandacceptthegiftsonlyamothercanpassontoherchild.
Ipuffedair.Helena’sflowerywordsandcunninglanguagedidnotdeceiveme.Shedidnotlikemeverymuch.Fromonefact,Icouldinferthree.Herofferwastoherownadvantage,ofcourse.ShedidnotneedtoworryaboutmytakingGrandmaaway,herbabysitterandservingwoman,andshewouldgainaplaycompanionforherson.Tobefair,Helenawasaskingforanothermouthtofeed,abodytoclothe,andforthatIwasgrateful.Shewouldevenpayformyflyingmachineticket.ButIwouldonlybringmychildtoherasalastresort.
ThenSylviewasborn.Sally,InamedherinEnglish.Thatisstillwhatiswrittenonherbirthcertificate.ButinthelanguageoftheCentralKingdom,shehasalwaysbeenmySnowJasmine,Sul-Li.ItwastheHollandpeoplewhodidnotrecognizethenameSally,theHollandpeoplewhorenamedher.SheleftmeasSallyandreturnedasSylvie.
Shewassodainty,asmallpeople-lovingbird,clutchingmyfingerasifitwereabranch,Pa’sgreathandscaressinghercheek,whichwasasflushedandtenderasapeach.Wehadexhaustedourmeagersavingsbythen.Earlier,noonewantedtohireabig-stomachedwomanwhodidnotspeaktheBraveLanguage,andnow,noonewouldallowmetocometoworkwithababy.Whatpathwouldthefateshavechosenforus,mySnowJasmine,ifonlyIhadkeptyouherewithme?
InthatblisteringNewYorksummer,Sylvieweptsobs,andthelittlewindstirrerinthatnarrowroom,stuffedwithme,Pa,andher,offerednorelief.Ididoddjobs—bitsofsewing,stringingfakepearlsintobracelets—toearnmoremoney.Iwashedherpeeclothsinthebathingvat.Pastartedasecondjob,standingtablesatamealhalluntildeepintothenight.Itgroundusdownuntil,intheeighthmoon,thewhiteghosttookmypursebundle.
IhadgoneintoChinatownwiththehopeoffindingajobinabread-bakingshop.TheyhadtakenonelookatSylviestrappedtomybackwithapieceofclothandsentmeoutthedooragain.Withlowbreathandnostrength,IwasthelastofftheundergroundtrainatourstopinQueens.Iwashalfrunning,tryingtocatchuptotheotherpassengers,whenthewhiteghostcutthemfrommyview.HehadeyesasblueandflintyastheblindoldbeggarofourvillageintheCentralKingdom.WithonehandhegrabbedmypursestrapandwiththeotherheshovedmyshouldersohardIstumbledandfelltotheground.
Desperate,ItwistedtoavoidlandingonSylvie.Aflashofagonyburneditswayupmyarm,footstepsrunningaway.Thewhiteghostwailedoverhisshoulder,“Fokkin’Chinee!”ThatmuchoftheBraveLanguageIalreadyknew.Ilaythere,stunned,withmycheekbleedingagainsttheconcrete,gladtohearSylvieweepingonmyback,gladshehadsurvivedtocry.Whatifhehadgrabbedthestrapsofthebabycarrierclothalongwithmypurse?WhatifIhadlandedontopofher?Whatifwehadfallenontothetraintracks?
IwrotetoHelenatosayIwouldbringmybabygirlinthetenthmoon.Istillshouldnothavedoneit.ButIwastwenty-threeyearsold,newlymarried,newlyemigrated,andstrugglingnottodrowninthisvastoceancalledtheBeautifulCountry.Itoldmyselfitwasonlyforayear,andthenwewouldbringherback.IdidnotknowitwouldbenineyearsuntilIsawheragain.
IheldmygirlclosetomethatendlesstimeintheflyingmachineuntilwelandedinHollandonablackdayofexcessivewater.ThenIunderstood:Ihadbroughtmydaughtertoalandscapeoftears.
Chapter3
Amy
Monday,May2
Sylvie’sfine,ofcoursesheis.IhangontomyseatasthesubwaycarrattlesitswaytoBrooklynHeightsandtrytothink.Asidefromallofherotherqualities,Sylvie’slikeafemaleJamesBond.Overachieverdoesn’tevenbegintodescribeher.Ifourfaucetleaks,Sylviefixesit.She’senhancedmyoldlaptopwithsomanyextradrivesandsomuchmemorythatInicknameditFrankenstein.Evenifherplanecrashed,Sylviewouldbetheonetoparachutetosafety,aftersavingallofherfellowpassengers.I’veneverbeenonanairplane,butshe’stoldmeamilliontimestoalwayscountthenumberofrowstothenearestexitdoor,sothatincaseofanemergency,Icouldcrawlthereinthedark.Sheevenlearnedhowtoshootagunatashootingrange.Youneverknow,shesaid.
OneofthefewthingsSylviecan’tdoisswim.Whenwewereborn,MaandPahadourprophecieswrittenbythemonksatthetempleandSylvie’sforbadehertogonearwater.WhenI’dheardthis,I’dsaid,“Isn’tthatkindofself-fulfilling?Ifshedoesn’tlearntoswim,she’lldefinitelydrownifshefallsintothewater,right?”ButSylviedidn’twanttotakeswimminglessonsanywayandeveryoneignoredmeasusual.Ourparentsdidn’tshareanythingmoreaboutourprophecies.WhenIpressedMayearsago,shesaid,“Mustnotopenbooktoofar.Butyourboneweightisheavy.Goodfortunewillcometoyou.”
“AndSylvie?”Iasked,proudtohaveasubstantialboneweight,whateverthatmeant.
Ma’slidslowered,shutteringherthoughts.“Mountainsofgoldeverywhere,butthirsttoo.”
IgetoffthesubwayatBrooklynHeightsandtrytocallJimagain.Itgoesstraighttovoicemail.Howcanaguidancecounselorbesohardtoreach?IfIwereasuicidalstudent,wouldn’tIbedeadbynow?IleaveanothermessageandtrySylvie’snumbertoo.Again,itgoesstraighttovoicemail.
“Hey,it’sme,”Isay.“Peoplearegettingworriedaboutyousopleasegetbacktome,okay?I’mgoingtousethatkeyyougaveusforemergenciesandbreakintoyourhouse.Ihopeyou’reokaywiththatandthatJimisn’tthere,showeringorsomething.Allright,bye.”
NotthatI’dmindseeingJimnude.He’sprettyhot,ifyou’reintotheblondscruffytype.ButeversinceSylviebroughthimhomefromPrinceton,I’vealwaysbeenslightlyirritatedbythewayheleansintooclosetoeveryone,hishandcasuallyrestingontheirarmorshoulder.WeChineseareprettymuchtheoppositeoftouchy-feely,althoughSylviedrinksuphiswarmthlikeathirstyplant—andI’mhappyforher.Sylvieneedstobeincontrolandhidesheraffectionmostofthetime,butI’vecaughtherwatchinghim,thelookinhereyessotenderandopen.I’dgiveanythingtoexperiencethatkindoflove.Atfirst,MaandPadidn’tlikethatJimwasn’tChinese,butsincehewasSylvie’sboyfriend,theyacceptedhim.Sylviealwayscouldgetawaywithanything.
Iexitthesubwaystationandstepoutintothekinder,gentlerworldthatmoneycanbuy.Ibrushpastanannypushingapramalongtheshady,tree-linedcobblestonesidewalkandhurrytoreachthewaterfront,whereJimandSylvielive.Alongonesideoftheirstreet,slopingwalkwaysleadtothePromenade.AsIhurrypast,IglancedownatthelongesplanadeandseeamodelsurroundedbyreflectivescreensposingagainstthespectacularviewoftheManhattanskyline.Inthedistance,Ihearlittlekidswhoopingastheychaseeachotheraroundthelargeplaygroundattheendoftheirblock.WhatSylvieandIwouldhavegivenforaplacelikethatwhenweweresmall,filledwithtireswingsandahugejunglegym
“SoJimandIwillbemovingagain,”Sylviehadtoldmeafewyearsago,rightbeforetheymarried.IwasmeetingherforlunchatRockefellerCenter,whereshehadjuststartedanewjobasamanagementconsultant.Shewasrubbinghershort,roughlybittenfingernailsagainstthegleamingtabletop.TheyhadmovedbacktoNYCacoupleofmonthsearlier,afterSylviefinishedherMBAatHarvard.TheywererentingastudioapartmentintheEastVillage.
Theywouldn’tleaveNewYorksosoon,wouldthey?I’djustgottenmysisterback.“Whereareyougoing?”I’dasked,takingabigbiteofmyburgertocovermyalarm.
“HisparentshavegivenusanapartmentinBrooklynHeightsasaweddingpresent.”Hervoicewasdeterminedlycasual,asifgiftingsomeoneaplaceworthmorethanamilliondollarshappenedeveryday.Shedidn’tmeetmyeyesandtoyedwithhersaladwithherfork.
Istoppedchewing.I’dheardJim’sfamilywasrichbutithadalwaysbeentheoretical,withhisbatteredcarandwrinkledT-shirts.I’devenwonderedifSylviehadinventedthatpartofhisbackgroundtoappeaseMaandPaforhermarryingawhiteguy.
Sylvielookedupandsawmyface,hereyesbright.Herdimpleappearedinherleftcheek.“Closeyourmouth,Amy.You’regoingtochoke.”
Ifinallymanagedtoswallow.“NowIfeelbad.I’mgettingyouguysablender.”
Webothgiggled.
Iexhaled.Sylviewasstaying.Thatwastheimportantthing.“Howdoyoufeelaboutit?”Iasked.
“Fine,ofcourse.It’salovelypresent,”shesaid,butIheardtheundercurrentofshameinhervoice.Sylvielovestoshowoffhernicethings,butshe’salsoproud.Inhighschool,sheoncehadamathteacherwhowasinfamousforsayinggirlsdidn’tbelonginhisclassroom.Istillrememberherintense,rigidbackasshebentoverhermathbooksnightafternightuntilshe’dbeateneveryoneinthatclass.
WhenIarriveatthetall,sleekbrownstonewheretheirgardenapartmentislocated,IopenthegatenexttotheoutsidestaircaseandpassbythelargeglazeddragonpotMaandPagaveSylvie.It’sfilledwithsomeindestructibleshrubsheneverrememberstowater.Igodownthreestepsandreachtheirbluefrontdoor.
Iringthedoorbellafewtimes.Comeon,Sylvie,openup.You’reinsidesleepingoffthejetlag.Yourphonebroke,that’sall.MybreathquickensasIwait.Finally,Ipulltheirkeyfrommypocket.ButwhenIunlocktheheavydoorandtrytopushitopen,itjams.
Alargepileofnewspapersandmailblockstheentryway.Whatthehell?Sylvie’sbeenawayforaboutamonth,butwhereonearthisJim?Theairinthehallwayisstillandmusty.Istepinsideandlookaround.
Theapartmenthasbeenbeautifullyrenovated,withtastefulrecessedlighting,largebaywindows,andasleekmodernkitchen,butSylvieandJimstillliveinitliketwocollegestudents.Therearepilesofbookseverywhereandstacksofmagazinesontheiruprightpiano.Sylviehasnevercaredaboutanythingremotelydomestic.She’saterriblecook,blackeningeverysliceoftoastandattemptedpotroast.Acoupleofmonthsago,IaccompaniedherandhercolleaguestoaBroadwayshowwhentheircompanyhadfreetickets.Theconversationwasstiffandnoneofhercoworkersaskedmeanythingaboutmyself.Afterawhile,IfeltlikeIwasinterviewingthem.HowdidSylviesurviveamongsuchuptightpeople?Atonepoint,ImentionedwhatadisastrouscookSylviewasinanattempttolightentheatmosphereandsheglaredatme,laterchewingmeoutformyunprofessionalism.Iwantedtosay,Sylvie,ifpeopleknowyou’rehuman,they’lllikeyoumore,butIremainedsilent,asusual.
Ipeekinafewkitchencupboardsandfindthepotsandpanspristine,ofcourse.Neitherofthemevercooks.Theyliveontakeoutsweet-and-sourporkandtikkamasala.DespiteSylvie’schronicmessiness,I’munpreparedforthechaosIfindwhenIopentheirbedroomdoor.Apairofslackshasbeentossedacrosstheturquoisefootboardoftheirlargebed.Wrinkledshirtsarestrewnalloverthefloorandsmallpilesofscarvesandearringsliescatteredonthemattress,asifSylviepackedinahurry.ThenInoticethateveryitemIseeisSylvie’s.WhereareJim’sbelongings?Iopentheirclosetdoor.It’saviolationoftheirprivacy,butIneedtoknow—and,indeed,onlySylvie’spressedsuitsarehangingthere.Theotherhalfoftheclosetisbare.
Mychestconstricts.It’sclearnoonehasbeenhereforalongtime.
Chapter4
Sylvie
Saturday,March5
TwoMonthsEarlier
PeoplecallFrenchthelanguageoflove,buttheonlylanguagelodgeddeepinmyheartwasthatofmychildhood,Dutch.
HehadtoldmehisnamewasJim.ItwasonlylaterthatIlearnedhistruename.MyfirstsemesteratPrinceton,Ifocusedsolelyonmygradesandmyfuture.Afterall,whenpovertyenters,lovefliesoutthewindow.Iunderstoodbetterthananyonethatsmokedoesnotcomeoutofthechimneyfromlovealone—andneverforgotthatAmy,Ma,andPawerecountingonmebackhome.
Inawritingseminar,mysecondsemesteratPrinceton,InoticedJim.Wewereworkingonapracticeexaminalecturehallwithsoaring,pointedarchedwindowsandslendercolumnsthatmadetheroomfeellikeaGothicchurch.Ifinishedlongbeforetheothersandrecheckedmypaperforstyle,spelling,andgrammaticalissuesbutwasstillsurroundedbybentheadsandpensscratchinglinednotebooks.Igazedoutthewindow,watchingastheangelsshookouttheircushionsatopthebackdropoftrees.Atfirst,IwassohypnotizedbythesnowIdidnotnoticehowthecoolsunlightcastahaloofgoldupontheguysittinginfrontoftheglass.Hishaircurledinloosegleamingwaves,unrestrainedandfree.Hewassprawledinhischair—legsspreadwide,jeanssotornIcouldseebitsofhairylegthroughtheholes.Icouldnevertakeupspacelikethat,asifIhadbeenbornunfettered,asifthisworldweremybirthright.ThenImethiseyes.Sowarmandwicked,Icoulddrowninthem.Hehadbeenstudyingmethewholetime.Iquicklylookedaway,butfoundhimwaitingformebythedoorwayasweleft.
“I’mstrugglinginthisclass,”hesaid,hismischievouseyesnowentreating.Evenhisfeatheryeyelashesweregolden.Hebentcloserandalmostbreathedintomyear,“Pleasehelpme.”
Itwasalieandalsoourbeginning.Formanyyears,Ifoundtheexcusehehadusedtomeetmecharming.
Jimwastheperfectcombinationofhigh-andlowbrow.HeboughtawreckofanautomobileforsixhundreddollarsandnameditafterGrendelfromBeowulf.IwasdelightedtohaveaboyfriendwithknowledgeunfathomabletoMaandPa.Werodearoundinhiscar,feelingyoungandcarefree.Jimwantedtodothingsthatwouldneverhaveoccurredtome,likescoringbeereventhoughwewereunderage.Neitherofuslikedthetastebutwedrankitbecauseitwasthesortofthingnormalcollegekidsdidinthemovies—andthatwaswhatwewantedtobe.Isputtered,unusedtoalcohol,andJim,drivenbyhisdesiretoseemordinaryandmanly,disguisedhisdistaste.Hewasmoreaccustomedtothefinewineofhisparents’collection.
IwantedtoescapemypoorbackgroundandforgetaboutuglySylviewiththecrookedtoothandeyepatch,andhewaspretendingtobesomeoneotherthanJamesQuakerBatesII,anameIneverevenhearduntilhetookmehomeforChristmasduringoursecondyear.Ishouldhaveknownthatwaswhytheprepschoolkidsalwaystrailedafterhimandlaughedtoohardathisjokes.Ihadnaivelythoughtitwashischarismathatovercameallboundaries.ItwasnotuntilGrendeldrovethroughthegateathisfamily’scoastalestateonLakeMichiganandcontinuedpastahalfkilometeroflandscapedgardenbeforereachingtheirGeorgianmansionthatIbegantounderstandthathehadalifelikeagodinFrance.
Now,manyyearslater,Iwasnotsureifwehadtrulylovedeachotherormerelytheversionsofourselveswehadseenreflectedintheother’seyes—asifwehadactedoutaplaytogether,bothofusplayerandaudiencealike.Iwaswhathehaddreamedofaswell:someonewhohadgottenintoPrincetonbasedondriveandbrainsalone.Mylackofconnectionsandmoneyhadreassuredhimthathetoohadmadeitthereonhisown.
Myheartachedatthisrealization.Therevelationsanddramaofthepastweekhadgonestraightthroughmymarrowandbone.WhowasthemanIhadmarried:Jim,James,orsomeoneelseIneverknewatall?
Chapter5
Amy
Monday,May2
Mypalmsarewetandclammyandmyheartisrunningamarathoninsidemychest.Therobustsecurityguardbehindthedeskstaresatmeasifshe’swonderingwhetherIshouldbeatamentalhospitalandnotatthehighschoolwhereJimworks.Igivehermyname.Shecallshim,listenstosomethingontheotherendoftheline,andsayshe’sunavailable.
“Please,”Isay.“H-hissister,Imean,mysister—”
“Ican’thelpyou,ma’am,”shesays.Hertoneispolitebutfirm.“Pleaseexittheschoolpremises.”
Istandoutsideandwaitamongthepushing,writhingcrowdofraucousteenagersforwhatfeelslikehours.Agroupofthemleanagainstthegate,smokingpot;themuskyodorclingstomyhair.Jimwillcomeoutforhislunchbreak.He’soneofthoseoverlyenergeticpeoplewho’salwaystakinglongwalksorjoggingplaceswhenheshouldberestinglikeanormalperson.Ihatemyselfforwaiting.Whydidn’tIhavethegutstoelbowmywayintotheschool?I’mnauseouswithworryaboutSylvieyetstillacoward.HowcouldJimbeunavailable?He’sfamilyandSylvieismissing.
Finally,Icatchaglimpseofhislighthair.It’simmediatelyvisible,likeanalbinorabbit.He’ssurroundedbyadoringteenagegirls,mostlyLatinoandAfricanAmerican,alllaughingupattheircuteyoungguidancecounselor.
“Jim!”Icallout.Whenhefinallyseesme,heimmediatelyavertshiseyesandshoveshiswayintheoppositedirection.
Iamsoshockedthatittakesmeasecondtomove.Jimisratherbroad,andthegirlstagalong,stillchatting,soittakeshimlongertowormthroughthecrowdthanme.
Imaneuvermyselfinfrontofhimsohecan’tavoidme.“Hey,Jim!”Theteenagerstakeonelookatmystrainedfaceanddisperse.
“Oh,hi,Amy,”hesayswithaweaksmile.Ihaveneverseenhimlooksoterrible,notevenwhenhewasingradschoolandpullingall-nighters.Hiseyesarebloodshot,hishairgreasy,andhe’ssportingafewdays’worthofstubble.
“I-Itriedtoseeyouatschoolbutyouweren’tavailable.”
Herubshishandoverhisforeheadasifhe’stired.“What?Iwasinameetingallmorning.Iwasn’teventoldyouwerehere.”
Ipressmylipstogetherbutdecidenottoconfronthimaboutthis.Whatwouldbethepointanyway?“Where’sSylvie?Haveyouseenher?”
Afireenginescreamspastus,distractingme,sirensblaring.WhenIturnbacktoJim,hisgazeiscalm.Washesurprisedatmyquestion?“She’sstillabroad,isn’tshe?”
“OurcousinLukassayssheflewbackthispastweekend,butnoonecanreachher.Iwasjustatyourapartmentanditlookslikenobody’sbeenthereforages.What’sgoingon?”
Hepinchesthebridgeofhisnoselikehe’sinpain.“Shedidn’ttellyou?Ofcoursenot.”
“Tellmewhat?”
“We’reseparated.”
“What?!”Thatwastooloud.Thekidsstandingnearbyarestaringatusnow.ImagesofahappySylvieandJimflashthroughmymind.WespentthispastChristmasattheirhouse.
Jimbendsclosertomeandlowershisvoice.“SinceMarch.Shekickedmeout,Amy.”
“Why?”Myeyesnarrow.“Whatdidyoudo?”
Heholdsuphishandsinprotest.“Look,youknowSylvie’snottheeasiestpersonintheworld.”
Thebloodrushestomyhead.“D-don’tyouinsultmysister.Ifshethrewyouout,shehadadamngoodreason.”
Heclencheshissquarejaw.“Oh,right,can’ttaintthealtaroftheholySylvie.Well,hero-worshippinglittlesister,don’tletyourillusionsblindyou.”
“Whatdoyoumeanbythat?”
Hehuffsoutadeepbreathandtheneasygoing,charmingJimreturns.“ForgetIsaidanything.I’mjustupsetbythewholethingandshe’srefusingtobereasonable.Issheokay?”
“Iwouldn’tknow.Noone’sheardfromher.”Despitemyfrustration,Iamdesperateenoughtoask,“Doyouhaveanyideawhereshecouldbe?”
Hisfaceisstill.Icatchaflashofgenuinefearinhiseyes.“I’mthelastpersonSylviewouldcontactorwanttosee.Believeme,I’vetried.Butcomeon,Amy,thisisSylvie.She’sfine.Sheprobablyjustwantssometimetoherself.”
SylvieisthemostdutifulpersonIknow.Shewouldnevermakeusworrylikethis.Iturnonmyheelandwalkaway.Jimcallsafterme,“Look,I’msorry,Amy.Ifthere’sanythingIcando…”
I’dliketogobackandpunchhiminhisface.Sylvie’smarriagehasbeenontherocksformonthsandshedidn’ttellanyone.Shedidn’ttellme.Whenwewerelittle,I’dliewithmyheadonherlapasshestrokedmyhairandI’dtellhereverytinythingthathappenedtomeatschool:thegirlswho’dgiggledovermycheappants,theimpossiblydenselyfreckledboyI’dliked,themeanteacherwiththefacelikeaprune.ShewouldlaughorcommiserateandI’dalwayssay,“Sylvie,wetelleachothereverything,right?Right?”Andshe’danswer,“Right.”ButnowI’mbeginningtorealizethatmaybeI’vealwaysbeentheonlyonedoingthetelling.
TheshadowsgrowlongasMaandIwaitforPatocomehome.Maseemstohavecrumpledandshrunkoverthepastfewhours,thisblowcomingontopofhermother’sdeath.Asshepreparesdinner,herhandsshakesomuchI’mafraidshewillcutherself.Severaltimes,shestopsandpraystoourgods,herlipsmovingsilently.Wehavecarefullyavoidedanyfurtherconversationordecisions.There’sstillnowordfromSylvie.MyheadisspinningwiththenewsthatsheandJimbrokeup.I’dtriedtofindoutifSylviehadboardedanyflightsbuttheairlineswouldn’tdisclosethatinformationandwedon’thaveaccesstohercreditcards.
IthinkbacktoChristmasatSylvie’sapartment.Ithadbeenabitstressful,buttheholidaysarealwayssomewhatstrained.MaandPa’sEnglishissopoorandJimdoesn’tknowanyChinese.Furthermore,Sylviefeelslikethat’stheonetimeayearsheshouldcook—bigmistakerightthere.Jimtriestohelp,butthat’sprettymuchtheblindleadingtheblind.It’sasifSylvieistryingtofulfillsomefantasyofarealAmericanChristmas,whennoneofusevenknowwhatthatmeans.We’restillforeignersdespitetheyearswe’velivedhere.ImayhavegrownupinQueensbutmyentirehomelifehasbeenChinese—chopsticks,bittermelonwithcarponSundays,Buddhistholidays,respectyourelders—andJim’sasclosetoroyaltyasyoucangetinthiscountry.WealwayssitatthetablewhileMaandPastrugglewiththecutlery(“ayyah—knivesonthetable,”MawhisperedinChinesethefirsttime,staring),burnedstuffing,cranberrysauce,andthelanguagebarrier.
Idon’trememberthispastChristmasbeinganydifferent.Thebestpartwasalwaysafterdinner,whenJimplayedtheirpianoandSylvieandIsangChristmascarolsandtopfortieshitstogetherbycandlelight.EvenPawouldsitback,hiseyesshining;listeningtowordshedidn’tunderstandbutcarriedalongbytheriveroffeelingsconveyedthroughthemusic.SometimesI’devenplayalittleguitar.I’dbeggedforlessonsgrowingup,butwecouldneveraffordit.Still,SylviehadboughtmeaguitarafewyearsagoandI’vetaughtmyselfafewsongs.ChristmasatSylvie’shadbeentheonlytimeIwasthecenterofattentionandfeltcompetent,joyful,andfree.Despitetheawkwarddinners,thoseholidaystogetherweresomeofmyhappiestmemories:allofthepeopleIlovedatpeacewitheachotherandtheworld.
Ofcourse,LunarNewYearisthemostimportantholidaytotheChinese,butit’shardtocelebratewithallyourheartwhenyourfestivityisn’treflectedbythesocietyaroundyou—nofilmsontelevision,nodisplaysindepartmentstores,nofriendswithgifts,andnopropagandaaboutpeaceandlovewhatsoever.SylvieandIalwayshadtogotoschoolonChineseNewYear.
Sylvie,whereareyou?HowcouldyounothavetoldmewhatwasgoingonwithJim?I’veseenheroftensincetheybrokeupinMarch.Wetalkortextseveraltimesaweek.Shemusthavebeeninsomuchpainanddidn’tletmehelpher.Thathurtsmemorethananything.MatoldmenottotellPaabouttheirmarriageproblems,thatitwouldonlyupsethim.
WhenPafinallycomesthroughthedoor,hedoesn’trealizeanythingiswrong.Heiscarryingawrappedbundleofseafoodfromthestore,asusual.Afterwegreethimasisproper,heputsthepackageintherefrigeratorandhangshisjacketononeofthebentwirehangersinthecloset.Hesitsatthefold-outtableinthekitchenandwaitsforhisdinner,likehealwaysdoes.He’salargemanwithreddenedhandsthatsmelllikefish.Hescrubsthemdailybutcanneverentirelyridhimselfofthescent.MaalwayssayshowmuchSylvietakesafterPa,thoughI’mnotsureIseeit,withPa’shulkingbulkandSylvie’sgreyhoundleanness.Shedoeshaveadimpleinherleftcheek,andPa,ridiculously,hasoneinhisright—anothersimilarityMalikestobringup.I’malwayssurprisedwhenitappearsonhishardface.Sylvieisn’tmuchlikeMaeither.Theyarebothbeautiful,butwhereMa’sdelicateandyielding,likeacoconutriceball,Sylvieisalllonglimbsandsharpedges,moreabroadswordsaber.
PaunfurlstheChinesenewspaperhe’sbroughthomeandgrunts.He’salwaysbeenlikethis,asfarbackasIcanremember:ataciturn,old-fashionedman.Itmusthavedisconcertedhimtohavetwodaughters.Hewouldhavepreferredsons.Theytendtochatterless.Theoldfadedpostersofchubbyboysridingoncarpandcarryinggoldandpeachesthatcoverourapartmentareremnantsofhisfailedhopes,histhwartedattemptstobringmaleenergyintothewombofhispregnantwife.Butthere’ssomethinggentleaboutPatoo,atendernesstothewayhebrushesMa’scheekwiththebackofhishandeveryonceinawhile.AftertheyshopforgroceriesinChinatown,hecarriesasmanyoftheheavyplasticbagsashecan,leavingasfewaspossibleforMa.Hestandstheentiredayatworkbutifaseatopensuponthecrowdedsubway,heguardsituntilMacandrophertiredbodyintoit.Hemakessureourwintercoatsarewarmandthickbuthasrefusedtoreplacehisownshabbyjacketforyears,despitethewayIcatchhimshiveringthroughthebitterwinters.
I’mhisfavoritedaughter.Why,Idon’tknow,butheandSylviehavenevergottenalong.Likegingerdippedinsugar,Masays,simultaneouslydeliciousandexplosive.Sylvie’sevenallergictofishandseafood,whichhasbeenasourceofirritationtoPathroughtheyears.Whenwewereyounger,heusedtogrowlabouthowitwasawasteforMatocookseparatedishesforSylvie,asifitwereSylvie’sfaultthatshebrokeoutinhivesaftereatingshrimp.HeseemedtobelievethatSylviewasallergicbecauseshethoughtshewastoogoodforhisfood,andthustoogoodforhimtoo.Nowhelooksup,seesmewatchinghim,andsmiles,unveilinghisstraightwhiteteeth.Thateasingofthedailystrainonhisfacemakeshimsuddenlyashandsomeasamoviestar.PausedtopatmeontheheadwhenIwaslittleandcallme“mygirl,myveryownAmy.”
IexchangeaglancewithMa,andthengentlysay,“Pa,wehavebadnews.”
Hestartles,sitsupright.HisEnglishisabitbetterthanMa’s.“Whatisthis?”
“Sylvie’smissing.”ThecolorinPa’sskindrainsaway,turningitslowlytoash.Iswallowhardandpresson.AfterItellhimthewholestory,carefullyomittingthepartaboutSylvie’sproblemswithJim,hehideshiseyeswithhishanduntilhefinallypronounces,“Jimisherhusband.Hemustactnow.Itishisduty.”
“Ispokewithhimtoday.”Idecidetolie.“He’stoobusyatwork.Hecan’tgetawaytodoanythingandhethinksshe’sjusttakingsometime.”I’materribleliar.“Forhercareer.”AnythingtodowithworkissacredasfarasMaandPaareconcerned.
Panods.“Jimknowsbest.Wecandonothinganyway.”
Idon’thavePa’sfaithinJim.Isayhesitantly,“ShouldoneofusgotoHolland?”Who?Me?Iamterrifiedattheideaoftravelingtoanothercountry.Idon’tevenlikethethoughtofgoingtoNewJersey.Ma?Shecan’tspeakEnglish.AndPacouldneverleave—he’sneededathisjob,anyway.TheimageofMaandPaonanairplaneisincongruous.Theycanhardlynavigatethiscountry.Howwouldtheyevermanageabroad?
“No,”hesays,angerfillingeachword.“Toodangerousandwhatyoucandothereanyway?Youjustlittlegirl.CousinHelenaandherfamilyknowwhattodo.”
Ihavetobitebackaretortatthat.Madoesn’tspeakup.Sheneverdoes.WheneverPaisdrunkandangry,sheonlybecomesquieter.IsupposeI’velearnedmysilencefromher.Theirmarriage,likemanyothersoftheirgeneration,wasarrangedbecausetheirfamilieskneweachother.Paoftenfeelstomelikehe’sholdinghisbreath,filledwithfrustrationandrageatsomewrongthat’sbeendonetohiminthepast.SometimesIspotalookthatmightbelongingonhisfacebutthenIblinkandit’sgone,asifithadneverexisted.
TherewerenightswhenIwaslittlewhenthey’dfightandSylvieandIwouldclutchateachotherinourroom,hidingbehindthewallsthatweretoothintomuffleanysound.MymemoriesbeginafewyearsafterSylviewasbroughthometoQueenstolive.Iwasaboutfouryearsold.Icouldn’tunderstandtheChinesewordsPacalledMathen,butSylvie’scheekswouldglowbrightred.Itoftenhappenedafterhe’dbeendrinkingricewine,andthenextday,it’dbelifeasusual.
Sylvieconfrontedhimonce.Itriedtostopher,clutchingathersleeve,butshemarcheddownthehallandpoundedontheirdoor.
WhenMaopenedit,Sylviesaid,“YouwakingAmy.”
Mawashorrified,moresothanPa,andquicklybundledSylvieoutandbacktoourroom.
“Youmustneverdothatagain.”Mawasapaleghoststandinginourdoorway.“Never,never.Promise!”Andwedid,thoughwedidn’tknowifshewasafraidforusorforherself.
“Wehavetodosomething,”Isaytothemnow.ButasIlookaroundtheroom,Irealizethatnoneofushaveanyideawhatournextmoveshouldbe.Sylviewastheonewealwayscalledforhelp.There’snooneelse,nooneexceptme.
TelephoneCall
Tuesday,May3
BETHANY:Hello,BethanyJonesspeaking.HowmayIhelpyou?AMY:Bethany,thisisAmy.BETHANY:Whatasurprise.WhatcanIdoforyou?AMY:I’mcallingaboutSylvie.[Voicebreaks]She’sdisappeared.Nooneknowswheresheis.BETHANY:What?I’msosorry.Isthereanythingwecando?AMY:Well,Iwouldreallylikethecontactinformationforthatconsultancyprojectshe’sdoingintheNetherlands.BETHANY:I’mabitconfused.AMY:Yourcompanysentherthere,right?Maybeshe’sleftamessageorsomething.Idon’tknowhowtogetintouchwiththem.BETHANY:…I’mafraidSylviedoesn’tworkhereanymore.Sheleftmorethanamonthago,attheendofMarch.AMY:What?B-butsheneversaidanything…Areyousure?Whydidsheleave?BETHANY:ItrulyapologizebutI’mnotpermittedtodisclosethatinformation.She’sprobablybeensentthereviaanewemployerandthisisjustsomesortofmix-up.AMY:I’mscaredsomething’shappenedtoher.[Chokesbackasob]Ican’tbelieveshedidn’ttellmesheleftyourcompany.BETHANY:IwishIcoulddomoreforyou.Butdon’tworry,Sylvieisextremelycompetent.Shedoesn’tneedanyone’spity.AMY:WhywouldIpityher?Wasshefired?BETHANY:Well,wedon’tletanyonegohere.Peoplesometimesareencouragedtoexplorenewhorizons—that’sall.Ofcourse,it’snotuptometosaywhat’sfairorunfair.Whenyoureachyoursister,I’msureshe’lltellyouallaboutit.Tuesday,May3AmyLeeEveryone,sorrytobotheryoubuthasanyoneheardfrommysisterSylvieinthepastweekorso?Doyouknowanythingaboutapossiblenewjobofhersbyanychance?It’sreallyimportant.Thanks.LikeCommentShareDonMcConnellNope,butisn’tsheabroad?She’sprobablyjustcaughtupwithherwork.LikeReplyKatieCheSorry,haven’theardfromher.Butshedoesn’ttendtowritemuch.Probablyjustatimedifferencething.Don’tknowanythingaboutanewjob.Hey,whenarewegettingtogetherforadrink?Beentoolong.Noahsayshi,bytheway.LikeReplyEtienneSarskiShewenttoDenmarkorFinlandorsomething,right?Alwaysgetconfusedwiththoseforeignplaces.I’mupforadrink,canIcome?LikeReplyAmyLeeShewenttotheNetherlands.Hasanyoneheardanything?MinHoChung?FredGap?JudithvanEs?MichelleSilva?Pleasetaganyoneelseyouthinkmighthaveheardfromher.We’regettingprettyworried.LikeReplyAmyLeeHello?Hasanyoneheardanythingfromher?LikeReplyAmyLeeHello?LikeReply
TelephoneCall
Wednesday,May4
SYLVIE(RECORDING):Hi,thisisthevoicemailofSylvieLee.PleaseleaveamessageafterthebeepandIwillgetbacktoyouassoonaspossible.AMY:Pleasepickup.We’rescared.It’sbeensolong.It’stotallynotlikeyoutodisappearlikethis.I’vecheckedwithLukasagainviaemailandthere’sstillnosignofyou.Ifyoucanhearmebutforsomereasoncan’tanswer,it’sgoingtobeokay.WeloveyouandI’mflyingtotheNetherlandstonight.Iknow,I’llprobablydieoffearbeforeIevenarrive.MaandPadon’twantmetocomebutIusedmybankaccountmoney,youknow,allthoseredenvelopeswesavedourwholelives.AndatleastIhaveapassport.It’sagoodthingyoualwaysmakeuskeepourpassportsvalid,incaseweneedtofleeasuddenwarorsomething.OfcourseIdidn’tdaretoactuallytellMaandPaI’dboughttheticket,Ijustlefttheconfirmationpageonthetableforthemtofind.Paturnedquiteredbuthedidn’tsayanything.I’msonervousaboutleavingthecountry.Ipracticallythrewupafterbookingmyseat,butyou’remoreimportant.Youhanginthere,Sylvie.Idon’tknowwhatkindoftroubleyou’reinbutwe’llgetthroughittogether.I’mcomingforyou.Chapter6
Sylvie
Friday,April1
OneMonthEarlier
ItwaslateintheeveningandIsatontheairplaneatJFK,waitingforittodepartandbringmehometotheNetherlands.WhenIwaslittleandstilllivingthere,Ihadchafedatthebit.Iwasatroublesomechild,hadalreadystartedthedollsdancingeventhen.Shehaspepperinherbutt,theDutchkidshadsaid.Inasocietythatgradedyoudownifyouwroteextrapagesforanexercisebecauseyouhadnotfollowedtherulesoftheassignment,Ihadalwayswantedtoomuch,triedtoohard.Justdonormal,theDutchsaid,andIwasmanythingsbutneverthat.
ButasIfastenedmyseatbelt,IfeltasifIwasreturningtoasafehaven—east,west,homewasbest.Iwasgoingbacktotheplacewherenoonehadeverneededmetobeextraordinary.HowmanytimeshadIdreamedofgoinghomeovertheyears?WhyhadIneverreturnedbeforenow?Ithadbeenalongtripofthespottedcow,filledwithtrialsandtribulations.
WhenIwasnineyearsoldandnewlyarrivedintheUnitedStates,IhadtowearthathatedeyepatchandtheAmericankidshadlaughedatme;forthatandformyaccentandmycrookedfronttooth.IcouldspeakonlyafewwordsofEnglishthen.EvenafterIlearnedthelanguage,Ikepttheaccentthat,formanyyears,theythoughtwasChinese—chink,gohometoChina,youcan’teventalkright,stupidBuddhahead—butwasactuallyDutch.AndIhadwatchedasthosesyruplickersfawnedoverthegirlwithFrenchparentsbecauseheraccentwassoEuropean.OnlyAmywoulddancewithjoywhenshesawmeeachday.Amy,whoslippedhertenderhandinmine,wrappingitaroundmyicyheart.
WhereIwascoldandfalse—abeastofartificelikethebejeweledmechanicalnightingaletheChineseemperorboughttoreplacetheoneoffleshandblood—Amywasgenuine,asweetlittlepieceoflicorice,alwaystruetoherself.Shehadahabitofpushingupherglasseswithhermiddlefinger,asifsheweregivingeveryonethebird,andIfounditincrediblyendearingthatshehadnoideashewasdoingit.ShewasagiverwhileIwasaconsumer,burningupeverythingandeveryoneItouched.Naturally,IhadbeenjealousofAmyeversinceshewasborn.Amy,thewantedchild,andtheonlyreasonmyparentsbroughtmebacktotheUnitedStates,soIcouldbabysither.MacarednothingforwhatIdid.Icouldgotobedpastmidnightandshewouldnotevenmarkit.IoftenlefttheapartmentwithouteatingbreakfastbecauseIwanted,justonce,tohearMa’ssoftvoicesay,“Sylvie,comeback,”butsheneverdid.Meanwhile,Amyhadtobuttonhercoat.Amycouldnotleavewithoutawarmlittlebiteinherstomach.Amyhadhelpineverything
WhenIhadnightmares,Amywouldbouncemeawakeinthatlittlebedroomwesharedandsay,“You’respeakingmonsterlanguageinyoursleepagain.”NomatterhowmanyyearsIlivedinAmerica,IalwaysdreamedinDutch.Dutchwassomethingthatbelongedtome,orsoitseemedwhenIlefttheonlycountryIhadeverknown.Itwasacomplexlanguage,filledwithchallengingsoundsandawrapped-upwordorder.Despiteitsintricacy,itwasthelanguageofmysoul.Nowadays,wealllivedinatimeboundarywhenemotiondefeatedlogic,anerawhengutfeelingreignedoverrationality.Therewasnopatienceforthedifficult,theindecipherable,yetwhatelsewasthehumanheartbutthat?
WhileatPrinceton,IjoinedtheDutchlanguagetableforourweeklymealtoconverseamongotherswhospokeit.Theirsurprise,whentheyfirstsawme,turnedtoshockwhenIstartedtospeakDutch,atfirstwithsomehesitation,thenevermorefluently.TheydelightedinteachingmeeverythingIhadmissed,fromsexualorganstocursesthatoftenembarrassedthembutnotme:cancer,typhoidsufferer,raisinsnob,poopcatcher,lambballs.IhadtoholdmyselfinsoIdidnotlaughoutloud.Fromthis,Ilearnedthatcurseswereimpotentunlesspoweredbyshameandtheappealoftheforbidden.
Andnaturally,LukaswrotetomeinDutch,butourcorrespondencetaperedoffaswegrewolderandweredrawnfurtherintoourseparatelives.Whenwewerelittle,wewouldgotothelibraryinourvillageandLukaswouldporeovertheartandphotographybooks,inhalingthescentofeachpageasifhewantedtoabsorbeveryimageintohimself.Offandonthroughtheyears,Iwouldreceivealetterfromhiminhisbeautifulslantedhandwritingaboutyetanothernewgirlfriend(“youwouldlikeher,Sylvie,sheisasbrilliantasyou”),hisstudybythefamousRietveldAcademie(“theworldhascrackedopenitslensforme”)—andthen,ashewasstrugglingtoestablishhimselfasaphotojournalist,aview-cardonlyonceinawhilefromplaceslikeBolivia(“freezingmybuttoffintheAndesMountains”),Turkey(“straykittenherehasbeenwaitingformeeverydayoutsidemydoor,bringingherhome”),China(“leavingGuangdongbehindmenow”).Hewaslessgoodwithelectronics:erraticandconfused,sometimeswritingmeemailsthatranonforpages,thennotrespondingtomyreplyformonths,onlytolatersendanapologythathehadfoundhisunsentemailinhisdraftsfolder.
ItoldAmysheshouldnotloseherselfinherfantasies,butIwastheonewhohadspentmylifeondreaming.WhenIwaslivingwithHelenaandWillemintheircoldhouse,Ilongedformyownmaandpa,whomIhadnevermet,parentswhowouldloveandacceptmeasIwas.Then,whenIwasfinallyallowedtoreturntomyrealparents—Theyonlyneedachildminderfortheirnewdaughter,Helenahadtoldme—IclungtomemoriesofGrandmabackintheNetherlands.Herwarmarms,hersmellofNiveacreamandChinesehairgel,ofthericeandmeatporridgeshemadeformeandLukasafterschool,ofwarmcaramelwafflesfromthestreetmarketsandlicoriceinlong,pointyplasticsacks.Lukas,whoalwayshadanewjoketotellmeaswewalkedtoschooleachday,andwhomademetossstickafterstickintotheswirlingwatersohecouldcapturejusttherightphoto.FoolthatIwas,IalwaysyearnedforthatwhichIdidnothave.
Itwasarisk,returningtowhatIcherishedasmyhomeland.IdreamedofplaiceandyetIateflatfish;Ialwaysexpectedtoomuch.Yes,thatwasthereasonIhadnevergonebacktotheNetherlandsonvacation,notevenonourmarriage-trip.IhadchangedandIwasterrifiedthatmydreamoftheoneplaceItrulybelongedwouldbeoverwrittenandIwouldhavenothingleft,nosolaceatall.
ButthenGrandmacalled,hervoicesoweakonthephone.Sylvie,youmusttravelbacktoseeme.Quickly.Quickly.
TherewereonlyahandfulofpeoplewhomIgenuinelylovedinthislifeandGrandmawasoneofthem.Shereachedoutbecauseshewasontheedgeofhergrave,closetobeingwiththeants.Mysweetgrandma,whohadheldmeasIcriedoversomecruelwordsHelenahadsaidtome.Iclutchedattherawpainthatconvulsedmychest.Howmanyyearshaditbeen?Now,suddenly,therewasalmostnotimeleft—and,evenifonlytemporarily,thetripwouldallowmetoleavebehindthewreckthatwasJim,mycareer,andtherestofmylife.
WhenIhadrepeatedGrandma’swordstoMa,Pa,andAmy,Mahadstiffened,andIknewthatshetoograspedwhatGrandmatrulywanted.Wehadneverspokenofthejewelry,butGrandmamusthaverevealedhersecrettoheronlydaughter.
“Iwanttosaygoodbyetomymother—Imean,Grandma,”Ihadsaid.Mahadflinched.IhadkickedherinhertenderlegonpurposeandIwasglad.ShehadnotbeenthereformewhenIwasachild,andGrandmahad.ThenIhadliedashardasglass,tellingthemthatworkwassendingmethere.IknewthatwouldpullPaovertheropelikenothingelse,andMaalwaysdidwhateverPasaid,asifshewerepayingpenanceforsomecrimeshehadcommitted.Ifonlytheyknewthatthesuccessful,competentSylviehadnothinganymore.Wouldtheybedisappointedinme?
ThenMahadsurprisedusallbysaying,“MaybeIgowithher.”
Weallstared.Maneverwentanywhere.Shewasafraidtoburnherselfwithcoldwater.EvenwhenItriedtotakethemouttodinner,sheprotestedabouttheexpense,thetrouble,theunsafeworldoutsideofourapartment.Whatthefarmerdidnotknow,shewouldnoteat.Gonowhere,donothing,thenyou’llbesafe.
Paturnedtoher,angered,rearingonhisbackpaws.“What?”
Malookeddown,blinkedawaytears:Ispottedashipwithsourapplesontheway.Shesaidinachokedvoice,“Sheismymother.”GuiltengulfedmelikeacloudofhotsteamandIcouldhardlybreatheforamoment.HowcouldIhaveoverlookedthis?Alwaysonlyconcernedwithmyself.GrandmawouldbefilledwithjoytoseeMaagain.
“No,”Pasaid,hisfacehardandstern.SometimesIhatedhim.“Amyneedyouhere.”
Atthis,Amy’sjawslackened.“Areyoucrazy?Shedoesn’tneedtochangemydiaper.”
“Icanpayforthetickets,”Isaid,eventhoughinmyhead,Iwatchedthefiguresdwindleinmysavingsaccount.
ButMawasalreadyshakingherhead,alwaysthepeacemaker,herownneedsburiedunderamountainofobligation.“No,Imustwork.Yougo,Sylvie.”
“Shehastherighttoseehermother,”Isaid,facingPa.Iwasnotafraidofhim,notlikeMaandAmy.MyownguiltatneglectingMa’sfeelingsbuiltupinmelikehotair,eggingmeon.Pawassounfair,soold-fashionedandsexist.Myvoicerose.“Whyareyoustoppingher?”
Adarkstreakofredraceduphisrigidneck,thestrainedtendonsprominent.“Youhavenorespect,”hegroundout.
“No,stop,”Masaid,steppingbetweenuswithflutteringhands.Shespokesoquickly,Icouldbarelymakeoutthewords.“Nomatter,nomatter.Inotgo.Inotwantto.Sylvie,pleasestop.Please.”Shewasalmostintears,apalepinkflushdrowninghereyes.
Iwatchedherwithsharpandpainfulpityandsighed,myangerdeflatinglikeaprickedballoon.HowcouldIeverconvincePaifMainsistedonfightingagainstherself?IturnedtoAmy.“Doyouwanttocome?”
Amy,somuchlikeMa,hadeatenfromfrightenedharemeat.Hereyesenormousbehindherthicklenses,shesaid,“Aforeigncountry?Thanks,butIhaven’tevenbeenanywhereelseintheU.S.—unlessyoucountHoboken.Strangelanguage,weirdfood,terrorists…I’llstayrighthere.”
“Youneedtoexpandyourhorizons.”
“Ilikemyboundariesjustwheretheyare,thankyouverymuch,”Amysaid,andthatwastheendofourdiscussion.Secretly,Iwasrelieved.Iwouldbeabletoreturnalone.
Theflightattendant’svoicecameonthroughtheintercom,tellingustogetreadyfordeparture,firstinEnglish,theninDutch.Ifeltherwordssinkintomybones.Theenginesroaredandwetookoff.
Part2
Chapter7
Amy
Wednesday,May4
Ispendtheentireflightcountingthenumberofrowstotheemergencyexitincasewecrash,notonlyduetofearbutoutofloyaltytoSylvie.Theplaneistoohot.Thehuge,heavymannexttomekeepsclaimingthearmrestwithhisplumpelbowandIdecidetocedehimthisbattle,scrunchingmyselfassmallaspossibleinmyseat.I’mthankfulIhavethewindow.I’msoworriedaboutSylviethatIdon’thavemuchanxietylefttowonderifwe’llcrash.AnyterroristscanwaituntilafterIfindoutwhathappenedtomysister.I’mtoonervoustosleep,evenwhentheyturnoffthelights.There’sawideselectionofmoviesavailableinthescreenbuiltintothebackoftheseatinfrontofme,buttheyallseemtorevolvearoundmurderorsex.Finally,Iplugmyheadphonesinandtuneintothemusicstation,tryingtorelax.Theconstanthumandvibrationoftheenginesmakesmefeelnauseous,andthatgiantmanloomsbesideme.It’slikethere’snowayout.Idon’thaveenoughair.ButIcan’tpanic.Sylvieneedsme.Ibreatheshallowlyforhoursinthedark.
Afterwhatfeelslikeaneternity,thelightscomebackonandtheflightattendantshandoutcardboardboxesfilledwithourprepackagedbreakfasts:aflatcontainerofblueberryyogurt,alittleclosedcupoforangejuice,plasticutensilssowecan’tattackanyone,andacoldturkeyandcheesesandwichonhardbread,pluscoffeeortea.Iaskfortea.I’malreadyvibratingwithtension,lackofsleep,andfear;Idon’tneedmuchcaffeine.Themannexttomehassleptsoundlywithhisspecialneckpillowandnowstretches.Sincehe’sawake,Islideopenthewindowshadeandashaftofthebrightmorningsunlightslicesintothedarkcabinlikeaknife.
Belowme,Ispotflat,inscrutablepostage-stampedparcelsinvariousshadesofgreen,piecedtogetherlikeapuzzle,lituphereandtherebygeometricslashesofbrilliantorange,white,andyellow:thefamoustulipfields.Nohills,noskyscrapers,noforests.Thisalienlandscapeseemsbizarrelyorderlyandunreal.I,anurbanintrovert,amdisconcertedbyallofthisverdantopenness.
Theflightattendantannouncesthatwe’reabouttoland,inbothEnglishandDutch.Iwishshe’dstopdoingthat.Iknowwe’regoingtoaforeigncountry,buttheconstantDutchontheflighthammersthepointhome.WhatamIdoing?Ofallpeople,I’mcompletelyunpreparedforthis.WhatcanIdoforSylvieanyway?Sylvieisextraordinary.
SylviewasnamedaBakerScholaratHarvardBusinessSchool,andgraduatedinthetopfivepercentofherclass.WhenIwasflailingaroundaftercollege,Iaskedherhowshe’ddoneit.Shehadjuststartedhermanagementconsultingjoband,likeoldtimes,wewerefollowingMaaroundthetempleinChinatownafterChineseNewYear.
“Alotofitiskeepingyourheadclear,Amy,”shesaid,holdingthetipofherbundleofthreeincensesticksintotheflameoftheoillampuntiltheycaughtfire.“Princeton,MIT,Harvard,it’sthesamepressure.Everyone’sjustrazorsharp.AtHarvard,thisonewomanwassofastwithnumbers,itwaslikeshe’dswallowedacalculator.Peoplewouldopentheirmouthsandwordslike‘IMFausteritymeasures’and‘trilemmaoffree-capitalflows’wouldpopout.Iwasveryintimidatedatfirst.Sometimespeoplethinkit’saboutcompetingwitheachotherbecausetheydivideyouintosectionsandeveryoneinsideasectionisgradedonabellcurve.Thatkindofthinkingmakesyouinsane.Ineverconsideredanyoneelse.IonlymadesureIcompetedagainstmyself.”
Ifannedmyincensesticksandherstoputouttheflames.Thickplumesofsmokespiraledupward.“Umm,sopositivethinkingsavedyou?”
Sheflushedabit,thedimpleinhercheekappearing.Shecarefullywedgedherincenseintothesand-filledurninfrontoftheenormousgoldenstatueofKuanYin,goddessofcompassion,andbowedlowafewtimes,herpostureperfect.Thensheturnedtofaceme.“ThatandIfiguredouthoweverysyllabuswasstructuredandonlyspenttimeontheimportantissues.Ihadnochoice—Ihadthereceptionistjobattheconstructioncompanyintheafternoonandwaitresseduntillateatnight.Ionlyhadthemorningtogetmyworkdone.Ihadtobereallyefficient.I’dlettheotherstaketheeasyquestionsinclassandwaittoanswerthehardestones.I’mAsianandawoman,whichshouldn’tmatterbutdidanyway.ItwasclearsometimesthatnomatterhowhardIworked,Ididn’tqualifytobeamemberoftheinclub.Buttheworstwasthemoney.”Shesighedandrubbedhereyebrow.“Everythingcosthundredsofdollars.Ididn’tknowthatanunspokenpartoftheHarvardMBAwasthesocialaspect—allthoseinvitationstoeventsandgalaswhereyoucouldrubelbowswithpowerfulpeople.TherewasnowayIcouldkeepup,soIdidn’ttry.I’mnogoodatmakingpeoplelikeme,anyway.”
Ihadfinishedmybowsandknockedherwithmyshoulder.We’dhadthisconversationbefore.“That’sridiculous,Sylvie.”
Shehuggedmethen,envelopingmeinherscentofsmokeandoranges.“That’syoursuperpower,Amy,notmine.”
Mythroatchokesup.Whyhaven’tIheardfromher?LikeIsaid,Sylvieisextraordinary.Removetheextraandthat’sme:ordinary.I’vejustwastedsomuchmoneybuyingthisexpensiveplanetickettotheNetherlands,whereIwon’tbeanyuseatall.Iamsicktomystomach.WhatwillhappentomeandmyloansnowthatSylvie’s—Istopmyselfbeforeeventhinkingtheword.HowcouldIbesoselfish?
I’moverwhelmedthemomentIstepinsideSchipholAirport,anameIcan’tevenbegintopronounce.It’sfuturisticandspotlesslyclean,aspaceshipcompletewithadisembodiedfemalevoiceremindingmeto“Mindyourstep”attheendofeveryautomaticwalkway.Thepeopleseemtobeuniformlytall,theirheadshoveringfarabovemine.Iamlostinaforestoftrunks.ThebabbleofincomprehensiblewordsaroundmeformsastreamofsoundthatIwadethrough,ignorantandalone.Ilongforhome,andMaandPa.Howcanthesignsbeinsomanydifferentlanguages?
Iwalktooneofthehugebathrooms.Thestalldoorsrunallthewaytothefloor.Ihaveahardtimefiguringouthowtoflushthetoilet.ItrytocheckmyselfinthemirrorbutthemirrorsarehungsohighthatIcanonlyseethetopofmyheadandabitofmyglasses.Besideme,atallwomanwashesherhandsefficiently,thenstridestowardtheexitwithoutaglanceatthemirrors,whichareexactlytherightheightforher.Infact,nooneputsonlipstickorpowder.Ismellnoperfumeeither.
DidSylviereallylivehereformuchofherchildhood?TheoneshehadbeforeIexisted.Shedoesn’toftenspeakaboutherlifeintheNetherlands,butwhenshedoes,herskinflushes,hereyessoften.Iknowsheloveditandlongedtoreturn.HowcouldMaandPahavesentmyownsisterhere?Hadtheyplannedtogivemeawaytoo?Ma,whoholdsandpetsme,butwhoseeyesfollowSylviewithsomuchyearning—SylviewrigglingawaywheneverMahadtriedtowrapherarmsaroundheruntilMastoppedtrying;SylvieleaningagainstmeeverytimewewatchedTVtogether;Sylvieholdingmyhandinthestreet.Evennow,wealwayswalkarminarm.WhenSylviewentawaytocollege,Isobbedmyselftosleep,countedthedaysuntilthetoo-shortbreakswhenshecamehomeagain.ThathadalwaysbeenSylvie’srole,togoforthandhaveadventures.Myjobwastowaitforhertoreturnhomesafely.Nowthecountrymousehasbeenforcedintothegreatdevouringworld.
Inadaze,Istandononeoftheautomaticwalkwaysandletthescenerypassmeby.Iamherdedintheonlypossibledirectionbytheplaneloadofpassengers.Westandneatlyinlineatpassportcontrol,wheretheyoungmilitaryguybehindthecounterglancesthroughmypassportbeforesayingincrispEnglish,“WelcometotheNetherlands.”
Ican’tbelieveI’minEuropewhenI’veneverreallyleftNewYork.TheenormousbaggagehallisbrightlylitwithmorethantwentydifferentbeltsandIwaitatthewrongoneuntilIrealizethatI’msupposedtobeinanothersectionaltogether.Ihalfpanic,rushtotherightplace.WhenIfinallymanagetocollectmybags,whichhaveallmiraculouslyarrived,IwheelmythingsoutthedoorbelowthegreenNOTHINGTODECLAREsign.Ilooksonervousthatoneofthecustomsofficersasks,“Areyoufeelingallright?”beforelettingmethrough.
Iexittofindawalloffaces—alotofwhitepeopleintheNetherlands.IfeelshortandpunyasthelankyDutchhurrypastmetoembraceoneanother.Imoveforward,andsuddenlyspotthreedarkheads:twomenandonewoman.MustbemycousinsHelenaandWillemandtheirson,Lukas,noneofwhomI’veevermet.They’recladinblack,whichsendsfearstabbingintomyheartuntilIrealizethatthey’reinmourningforGrandma,notSylvie.Thewoman’sclothingseemsflutteryandfilledwithlace.
Isteptentativelytowardthem.TheyaretheonlyChineseherebutIamstillunsure.Thepresenceofthelarge,shaggydudeespeciallyworriesme—probablyLukas?He’sinhisearlythirties,unshaven,withlongblackhairthatlookslikehehackeditoffhimself.Hiseyes—brown,withatouchofcinnamon—areslightlyswollen,likehe’sbeencryingorbeatenupbysomeone,andhisclothesseemwornandsandeddown,asifhe’sbeencrawlingthroughadesert.Apermanentscowlappearsetchedintohisspideryeyebrowsandforehead.ThisisSylvie’schildhoodplaymate?Iheardhe’saphotojournalist,andindeedhelookslikehe’sjustventuredoutofawarzone.
Theothermanisolder,probablyinhisfifties,long-limbedandsophisticatedinhissuitandtie,whichevenIcanseeiswell-made—likelyLukas’sfather,Willem.He’sclean-shaven,smooth,witharistocraticfeatures,stillaveryhandsomeman.IwonderifLukaswouldlooklikethisifyoucleanedhimup.There’ssomethingaboutthewayWillemstaresatme,asifhe’snotquiterightinthehead.Meanwhile,thewoman,mostlikelyhiswife,Helena,hasafacethat’stoosmooth,lipstickasmidgentoobright.Blackhairtamedintooneslickwavefallsneatlyagainstthepressedcollarofherlacyshirt.
Thenherfacesplitsintoasmile.Sheliftsahand,sayssomethingtomeinrapidChinese.Iamtoooverwhelmedbyallthestrangenessaroundmetounderstandher.
Iblink,unmoving,andLukasstepstowardme.HesayssomethinginrapidDutchtohismother,thenturnstomeandsaysinEnglish,“AreyouAmy?”
Relievedtohearthewordsinmyownlanguage,Isay,“Y-yes.”
Helenapeersaroundhimtosay,“Iamyourcousin.”
ShereachesoutherarmstomebutwhenItrytohugher,sheholdsmefirmlybytheshouldersandkissesmeonthecheeks,alternatingthreetimes.Aftereachkiss,Itrytopullawayonlytorealizeshehasn’tfinishedyet.Ihangonandtrynottoscrewuptheside-to-sidecheekrhythm.IamafraidI’llwindupkissingheronherstickylips.
“WeareallveryworriedaboutSylvie.”HerEnglishisquitegood,thoughaccented.IrealizethatEnglishisathirdlanguageforher,afterChineseandDutch.She’slefttracesofsomespicyperfumeonme.Thescentmakesmequeasy.
“YourEnglishisv-verygood.”Withallmystressandnervousness,mystutterhasreturned.
“Wehavemanytouristsascustomers.YoushouldlearnChinese,though.Lukaswillteachyou.”HelenanodsatLukas,confidentinhiscompliance,thenchecksoutmycrumpledblackshirtandbaggyjeans.“Youdonotlookmuchlikeyoursister.”Strangely,there’sapprovalinhervoice.
HelenawavesahandatLukasandhereluctantlykissesmethreetimestoo,hisskinscratchywithstubble.Hesmellslikesomethingwildandsmoky.I’velearnedtostaystillandletthemdotheweavingaround.ThenIdothethreekissesthingagainwithWillem,whohandlesmegently,likesomeoneprecioustohim.
Someonecallsout,“Hoi,Lukas!”Ilookuptoseeaflightattendantemergefromthegatebehindus.She’swearinganunusualuniformandstridestowardus.ShegrabsLukasandkisseshimfullonthelips—wow—andInoticethefourstripesonthesleevesofherarms,whicharewoundaroundhisneck.She’sapilot,notaflightattendant.She’sstillkissinghim.Nothreekissesthistime.Finally,theysaysomethinginDutchtoeachother;hesmilesandtosseshisarmaroundherinaloosehug.
HelenaandWillemlookon,notquitefrowningbutnotbeamingeither.Theyprobablydon’tapproveofhisnon-Chinesegirlfriend.Lukasgesturestomeandthefemalepilotturnstowardmeandgrins,extendingherhand.“SoyouarethesisterofSylvie.IamEstelle.”
Herhandshakeisasconfidentashergaze.SheandLukasmakeastrikingcouple.Herhairissolightit’salmostwhiteand,withherbesidehim,Lukasistransformedfromshaggywildmanintosexyartist,asifshewerealightcastuponhim,throwinghisfeaturesintosharprelief.“IjustflewbackfromNairobi.”
SomethingfallsoutofEstelle’slargesloppyhandbagontothefloorandLukasreleasesher.Heretrievesthesilkythingandhandsittoher.“Careful.Whatisthis?”
“Myheadscarf.CarryonewithmeeverywhereIgo,havetohidemyhairinMuslimcountries.IneverknowwhenIwillneedit.”Shewinksatmeasshetucksitbackintoherpurse.Ican’timaginealifethatwouldrequiresuchathinginthehandbag.Doesshemindneedingtohideherhair?Ordoessheacceptthatit’sherchoicetogothere?ShespeaksEnglishalmostaswellasanativespeaker—onlyitseemstocostherabitmoreefforttoshapehermoutharoundthewords.
Lukassaystoherinavoicethatisn’tcompletelystable,“Sylvieismissing.”
“What?”Shegoescompletelystill.“Didyougetinafight?”Afight?Myeyesflytoherface.Herbrowsarefurrowedandherjawclenched.She’sglaringatLukas,asifblaminghim.WhywouldLukasandSylviefight?
“Iwillfillyouinlater.”Lukasshootsheraquellinglook.
EstelleclearlywantstoquestionhimfurtherbutglancesatHelena’sfrozenface.
Iask,“Doyouknowher?”
Hervoiceisnowclipped,theearliereffervescencedissipated.“Wewerekidstogether,goodfriendsuntilshewentbacktotheU.S.Iwassohappytoseeheragainthispastmonth.”SheshootsanotherpointedlookatLukas.
“Weareallfromthesamevillage,”Lukasexplainstome,avoidinghereyes.
Helenainterrupts,“We’dbettergonow.WillemandIstillhavetoworktodayandAmymustbetiredafterherlongflight.”
“Youhavetowork?ButitisLiberationDay,”saysEstelle.Ihadn’trealizedtodaywasanythingspecialintheNetherlands.
“Holidaysarethebusiesttimeforourbusiness,”saysHelena,andIrealizethat’swhysheandWillemaredressedsoformally,notformebutbecausetheyneedtoruntheirlargeChineserestaurantinAmsterdam.
“Iwanttotalktoyou,”saysEstelletoLukas,hervoicesteely.“Callmeassoonasyoucan.”Thensheturnstomewithasmile.“Amy,afteryourecoverabitfromyourjetlag,whydoyounotcomeoutforlunchwithus?Maybetomorrow?”
“I-I’dlikethat,”Isay,eventhoughLukaslookslikehe’sswallowedsomethingunpleasant.NotonlydoesEstelleseemkindbutIwanttofindoutwhatsheknowsaboutSylvie.
IamcrammedintothebackseatofthecarwithLukas,whoseemstotakeupalltheavailableoxygenwithhisgeneralairofsurliness.It’snotjusthisphysicalsize,althoughheisbig;it’sthefeelingofwildnessaroundhim,likehe’scapableofanything.Ieyehishugehands,whichheflexesoften.ButthenIstudyhisavertedprofilemorecarefully,hisraweyes,andIwonderifI’vemistakenmiseryforbadtemper.
Iturnmyattentionoutthewindow.Wepassfieldsshroudedsothicklyintheearly-morningmistthatIcan’tmakeoutthegroundunderneath.Thefoggathersanddrifts,collectinginfoldsaroundmysteriousobjectsbelowitsunfathomablesurface.Thedisgruntledskylieslowacrosstheland,itsgraycloudsrestless.Igaspinsurpriseasaghostboatsailsrightacrossthebillowingfields,butthenHelenaturnsinthefrontpassengerseattosay,“Itisjustonacanalthatcutsthroughthemiddle.Thereiswatereverywherehere.”
Isay,“It’sstrangef-formetothinkthatthiswasSylvie’shome.It’sabitspooky.”
“SpookyisnoproblemforSylvie.”Lukas’svoiceholdsrealaffection,whichmakesmewarmtohimforthefirsttime.“Sheisfearless.Shecantakeanything.”
Helenasaysinasingsongvoice,“Oh,Sylviecantakeanythingandeverything,allright.”
Myheadswivelsbackandforthbetweenthem.Whatissheimplying?Whatkindofcrazyfamilyisthis?Iremovemyglassestocleanthemand,whenIputthembackon,noticeWillemwatchingmeintherearviewmirror.Hisgazeisbothintenseandtender.Thenhefocusesontheroadagain.Itcouldbethathe’sabitdimwitted.PerhapsHelenachosehimbecauseofhisgoodlooksanddecidedtooverlookanymentaldeficiencies.IambeginningtofeelsorryforSylviethatshehadtolivewiththisgroupofpeopleforthefirstpartofherlife.
Thecloudsdarkenandaslow,steadydrizzledrumsagainsttheoutsideofthecar.Afteralongsilence,Iventuretosay,“IthoughtyoulivedinAmsterdam?”
Lukasscoffs.“AllAmericansthinkeveryoneherelivesinAmsterdam.We’reabouthalfanhouraway.”
Weapproachasmallvillage,withold,well-maintainednarrowhousesnomorethanthreestorieshigh.ItlookslikethesortofplaceHanselandGretelwouldhavelived,wherechildrencouldventureforthandbeluredintocottagesbywitchesoreatenbywolves.ManyofthehouseshaveflagpolesattachedtotheirfacadeandflyDutchflags,whichflapheavilyintherainandwind.Althoughtheheaterinthecarison,Ishiver.Atallchurchloomsinthedistance,andthenwepassintoaslightlymoremodernpartoftown,withredbrickhousesandslantedroofs.
ThewheelsofthecarbounceagainstthecobblestonesandItrynottothrowup.AgroupofmentoooldtobeseenintheskintightblackLycrathatthey’rewearingzoompastusonracingbicycles,headsduckedagainstthedrivingrain,disappearingintothedistancelikeaflockofmisshapencrows.
Wedriveuptoadetachedhousewithaseparatecottagethatlookslikeitmighthavebeenagarageonce.Thelargetwo-storyhousestaresblindlyintotheroad,itsdarkwindowsbleakunderneaththeslantedroof.Willemparksunderalongcarport.
Helenasays,“ItisprobablysmallbyyourAmericanstandards,right?”
Ihadnotbeenthinkinganythingofthesort.I’dbeenwonderingwhatitmusthavebeenlikeforSylvietogofromthisGrimmfairy-taleexistencetobeingcoopedupinourtinyapartmentinhecticNewYorkCity.“W-why,no—”
SheproceedsasifIhadn’tspoken.“Wepayalotoftaxes.Ifyousneeze,youpayatax.Iwillopenupthehouse.Lukas,helpherwithherbags.”Sheopensthecardoorandstridesofftothemainhouse,headhighindefianceoftherain.Gustsofwindassailthecarwindowsasthedelugeintensifies,andbyunspokenagreement,thethreeofushuddleamomentinthecar,waitingforthedownpourtolessen.
“Itisnotsobadhere,”Lukassays.“IwasjustinHonduraslastyear,andkidswererunningbarefootinragsthroughthebuses,tryingtosellsnackstotherichtouristsinsteadofgoingtoschool.Taxesaregoodforsomething.Thereisevenananimalambulancetofreetheswansthatgetfrozeninthecanalsduringthewinter.”
Tomysurprise,Willemturnsaroundandspeaksforthefirsttime.“DoyourememberwhenyouandSylviefoundthatblackbirdwhenyouwerelittle,Lukas?”Hisvoiceisrichandsonorous.AlthoughhisEnglishisheavilyaccented,hespeaksslowlyandclearlytomakeupforit.Thus,heisnotanimbecile,whichleavescreepyandpossiblymalevolent.“Acathadattackedit.Thosetwocalledtheanimalambulancelateintheeveningwithouttellinganyone,andbeforeweknewit,alargewhitevanwasstoppedinfrontofourhousewithalltheneighborsstaringouttheirwindows.”HeshakeshisfingerplayfullyatLukas.
Lukasgrins.“Pa,youarejustastenderheartedaboutanimalsasSylvie.Onceyoufoundout,youfilleditsshoeboxwithsomuchcookedwhiterice,wewereafraiditwouldn’tbeabletobreatheanymore.Sylviehadchasedthecataway.Shewassoworriedaboutthatbird.‘Itneedsitsmama,itneedsitsmama,’shekeptsaying.Wesearchedforthenestforhourswithnosuccess.Istillrememberthatmaninthewhitesuit.Hetooktheblackbirdawayinacageandthenextday,theycalledtotellusitwasdoingfine.Itwasbeingraisedwithafosterbirdmotherandagroupofotherbabyblackbirdsandwouldbereleasedonceitwasfullyhealed.YoutoldSylvie,‘Donotworry,ithasanewmamanow.’”
HowmanymomentslikethishaveImissed?TheenormityoftheexistencemySylviehadbeforemeyawnsatmyfeetlikeanabyss.Shehadanotherfamily,thesestrangersI’mnowmeeting.Forasecond,IwishPawerelikeWillem,sophisticatedandwell-spoken,someonewhocouldjokewithhischildren.
“DoesshehaveanypetsintheU.S.?”Lukasasksme,notquitemeetingmyeyes,almostshy.
“Shestilllovesanimals,”Isay,withmoreheatthanI’dintended.Sylvie’smine.Nomatterhowmanystoriestheyhaveaboutanimalambulances,Iknowherbetterthananyone.“ButsheandJimcan’thaveanypetsbecauseJim’sallergictoeverything.”
Atthis,Lukas’sfaceclosesup.“Thatisapity.Itlooksabitlighteroutside.Iwilltakeyoursuitcases.”
AsIstepoutIwrapmyjacketmorecloselyaroundme.Thestormhasturneddayintoevening.ItisfreezingforMay.Thewindfeelsdifferenthere,morepenetrating,piercingthethincocoonofwarmthI’dfoundinthecar.Weraceintothemainhouse.Helenahasturnedononlyafewlights,anditsomehowmanagestofeelevenchillierthanthebleakweatheroutside.Istareatthedarkenedstairwell,whichhassteep,tinystepsthatlookliketheywouldonlyfithalfanormalfoot.Thelivingroomisdepressingandtasteless,asifsomeoneflippedthroughapileofdecoratingmagazinesfromdifferentdecadesandcopiedthepagesatrandom.Thewallsaremodernindarkgray,clashingwiththeorange-and-goldmarblefloor.Abrownleathercouchdominatestheroom,forbiddingandstern,bracketedbytwopuritanicalarmchairsthatfaceoffagainstatraditionalChinesewoodenopiumtable.Noneofthestifffurnitureseemstogotogether,despitetheapparentexpenseofeachindividualpiece.WillemflipsonmoreofthelightsandIcatchsightofmyreflectionagainstthemainwindow,paleandwrungout,likeanolddishcloth.
ThereareframedphotosofLukaseverywhere—veryhandsome,nowthatIcanseehisfacewithouttheovergrownstubble.Impish,long-lasheddarkeyes,hisfather’sfinefeatures.Ganglyadolescent.EstelleandLukas,laughingtogetherintothecamera,liketwoteenagemodelsposingforaperfumead.Lukas,smallandskinny,missingafewteeth,wearingswimmingtrunksandholdingupapieceofpaperthatreadsA.AfamilyphotoofHelena,Willem,andLukasinfrontoftheEiffelTower.Theyallsquintintothesunlightasifthey’vebeenblinded.AstudioshotofHelenaandWillem’swedding:AyoungHelenasittinginacakeofadressandWillemawkwardlypoisedwithhisarmaroundher.Asmallbasketfilledwithwhatlookslikeidenticaltriangularbitsoffoldedpapersitsbesideahalf-assembledpapersculptureofacreature—acoiledcobra,perhaps.
IsearchforapictureofSylvieandcan’tfindanything:onlythere,asmallstubbyfingeronLukas’sshoulder;inthebackground,strandsofblackhairoverapurplejacket;partofaknee,restingnexttoLukas’sleg.Sylviehasbeendeliberatelyexcised,madeintonothingmorethanafallofhair,adisembodiedhand.Withpainfulpity,Ithink,Sylvie,wasthisthehomeyoulongedfor?
Atthefarendofthelivingroom,alongharddiningsetlookslikeit’sbeenboltedtothefloor.Helenaisbustlingaroundintheopenkitchen,whereIalsofindanaltarforGrandma.Iclaspmyhandstogetherandbowlow.Theincenseholderoverflowswithash.Finally,somethingIrecognizehere.
AsIstraighten,Helenawatchesmeapprovingly.“Letmeshowyoutoyourroom.”
Evenwithmysmallfeet,Iamcarefulclimbingtheshallowstairs.Mybagshavedisappeared,whichmeanssomeonehasprobablyalreadybroughtthemupstairs,thankgoodness.HelenaandWillem’sbedroomisonthesecondflooraswell,alongwiththemainbathroomandalittleroomfilledwithcabinetsandboxes.There’sanotherroomthatsmellsfaintlyofmedicine,anoldperson’sroom.IknowinstinctivelythatthismusthavebeenGrandma’s.Anemptykeychainandafewpiecesofchinaareallthatremain—aKuanYin,sereneonherlotusblossom,sitsonasmallraisedaltarinthecorner.Abraceletofpolishedwoodentemplebeads,liketheonesMawears,liesabandonednexttothebed.HelenapausesbythedoorwayandIseegriefshadowherface.Shewrapsonearmaroundherselfasifsheiscold.
Impulsively,Itouchhershoulder.“I’msosorryyoulostGrandma.Youmusthavelovedherverymuch.”
Surprised,sheblinksrapidlybeforepullingaway,butthesmileshegivesmeisgenuine.“Yes,youarequitedifferentfromyoursister.Thankyou,Amy.”
I’mplacedintheattic,inwhatwasprobablyonceLukas’sroom.Icanhearthedelugepoundingagainsttherooftilesoutside.Theairsmellswetandabitmusty.Thespaceislargesinceitstretchesacrossthelengthofthehouse,andithasbeenstrippedbare.Thebedismadeupwithagreencoverlet.Iseemybagssittingbesideasimpledeskandofficechairunderneaththedormerwindows,whichintermittentlyflashwiththelightningoutside.
Ishiver.“IsthiswhereSylviewasstaying?”AtHelena’snod,Iturnaroundslowly.There’snotraceofmysisteranywhere.Ihadbeenhopingtoholdsomethingofhersinmyhands.“Whereareherthings?”
Helenashrugsdismissively.Shewavesherhandintheair.“Shepackedeverythingandtookitwithher.ThatiswhywethoughtsheflewbacktoAmerica.AndshewasinLukas’scottagemostofthetimeanyway.Ithinkshelikeditbetteroverthere.”
Despitethemomentofintimacywesharedearlier,IamirritatedbyHelena.Whatisshetryingtoimply?Iturntofaceherdirectly.“S-strange,Sylvie’snotonetocomplain.”
Helena’ssmileremindsmeofamannequin’s,plasticandfake,andhereyesremaincold.“Well,shewasalsopracticingthatcellodayandnight.ItwasdisturbingGrandma.Wedecideditwouldbebetterifshewasnothereallthetime.”
Iblink.Arewetalkingaboutthesameperson?“Sylviedoesn’tplayanyinstrument.She’sneverbeeninterestedinmusic.”
ThunderboomsandHelenacrossesovertopulltheshadesshut.Sheyanksthecurtainsclosedwithanaggressiveflickofherwrist.“Shestartedtakinglessonswhileshewashere—withthathandsomemusicteacher,ofcourse.Goodlooksneverhurt,right?OldfriendofLukas’s.Andno,shedoesnotplay.Shewasterrible.”Helenaemitsashortlaugh,devoidofhumor.
Istammer,“B-butSylvie’smarried…”ThenIrememberherseparationfromJim.“Anyway,sheneverlooksatmenlikethat.”Sylvie,whowouldbreezebyasmaleheadsturned,onlyeverfocusedonwhateverhernextbigprojectwas.Ihadoncearrivedlatetoapartygivenbyoneofhercolleaguesandpeeredshylyintothepackedroomtofindhersittingonacouchsurroundedbyadmirers.Sylviehadbeamed,rushedover,linkedherarmthroughmine,andwhiskedusawaywithoutasinglebackwardglance.
Helenawalkstothedoorandleansagainsttheframe.Shetapsherfingeragainsthercheek.“Yourheartistoobigand”—Icantellshe’sabouttosaystupid,butinsteadshechooses—“innocent.Youshouldbecareful.Peoplewilltakeadvantageofyou.”Thenwithanotherfalsesmile,sheleaves.
Aftershe’sgone,Icollapseintothechairandthinkaboutwhatshesaid.Mybodyisclammywithcoldsweat.Ibrushmyforeheadthreetimeswithmylefthand,likeMawouldtellmetodo,towardoffherwords,andIrealizemyhandsareshaking.Whomighttakeadvantageofme—sheherselforsomeothermemberofherfamily?OrdoesshemeanSylviesomehow?AndwhatintheworldwasSylviedoingwithacello?
Chapter8
Sylvie
Saturday,April2
OneMonthEarlier
Astheplanedescended,IrememberedthegameLukasandIhadplayedaschildren—rock,paper,scissors—andsoIfelt:plummetingdownwardontotheflatsheetoftheDutchlandscape,theNetherlandswrappingaroundmelikeasheetofpaper,cradlingmywornstoneheart.Iwasfinallycominghomefromacoldcarnival,disappointedafteralongtrip.
Intheconfusionofmydepartureallthoseyearsago,thedollGrandmahadmadeforme,Tasha,hadbeenlost.Tashahadalwaysbeenbymysideandthen,suddenly,shewasgone.LukasandIhadlookedeverywhere.Wehadavoidedeachother’seyes,throwingourselvesintothehunt,knowingwiththeinstinctofchildrenthatafterthisday,wewouldbesearchingforeachotherinstead.AndmymawasnothinglikeIhadimagined.Shewasthintothepointoffrailness,tiptoeingaroundthehouselikeanunwantedguest.Inmyfantasies,shehadbeenwarm,plump,andstrong,filledtooverflowingwithloveforme.ThiswomanspenthoursinGrandma’sroom,whisperingsecrets,andwhenIcreptintoGrandma’slapinsteadofhers,shestaredatmewithtremblinglips,asifithadbeenmyfaultthatshehadabandonedme.Helena’ssharpeyesneverletMaoutofhersight,likeshewasafraidMawouldstealsomethingprecioustoher.
Untilthelastmoment,IhadbelievedwewouldfindTashasomewhere,butweneverdid.Ihadburstintotears,griefformydolloverlayingmysorrowforleavingGrandma,Lukas,Willem,evenHelena.Lukas,alwaysmyloyalcompanion,bawledrightbesideme.Willemhadtakenmeintohisarmsthen,shelteringmefromHelena’scoldgaze.
“Shhhh.”Hekissedmyforeheadandtuckedalockofmyhairbehindmyear.“Tashawillalwayssitinyourheart,justlikeIwill.Now,ifyouholdupwithcrying,Ihaveasurpriseforyou.”
Isniffed,blinkedawaymytears,andpeekedatHelena.SheneverlikeditwhenWillemandIweretooclose.Ihadcalledhim“Pa”oncewhenIwaslittleandshehaddraggedmebythearmtomyroom,andmademeswearnevertodoitagain.“Youhaveyourownpa,youlittlefool,doyouunderstand?”shehadhissed,redwithfury.NowHelenaglaredatus,butwithMalookingon,andthisbeingthelastdayofmineintheNetherlands,shedidnotdaresayanything.
Willempressedasmallredsilkenvelopeintomyhand,justliketheonesGrandmahad.Hiseyescloudedwithtears.“Oneday,youwillgrowuptobecomeabeautifulwoman.IwillnotbetheretoseeitbutIwantyoutoweartheseforme.”
Iunzippedtheenvelopeandtippedthecontentsintothepalmofmyhand.Apairofsparklystudearringsfelloutandtwinkledagainstmyskin.Igaspedandthrewmyarmsaroundhisneck.Hesmelledlikegrapefruitandcedar,ashealwaysdid.“Theyaresoshiny!Butmyearsarenotpierced.”
“Theywillbe,”hesaid,hisvoicelowwithpromise.
Ifeltsomeoneprymyfistopen.ItwasHelena.Shetooktheearringsfrommeandheldthemupagainstthelight,herhandsshakingwithanger.“Thesearereal.”
Willemlaughedhisdeepmelodiouslaugh.Hereleasedmeandwenttohiswife.Heputhisarmaroundherandhuggedhertohim,likeinascenefromafilm,whileweallwatched.“Sillyone.Ofcoursetheyarecrystal.Butsetinsilverandstillverypretty,right,Sylvie?”Andhehadwinkedatme.
Ialwayssuspected,especiallybecausethoseearringshadnevertarnished.SoIhadthemappraisedafewyearsago—nearlyflawlessdiamonds,morethanhalfacarateach,inaplatinumsetting.ItwasawildlyinappropriategiftforalittlegirlbutIstillworethemtoday.Willemhadalwaysbeenthegenerousone.Hewouldtakeflatsquaresoforigamipaperand,likemagic,dinosaursandbutterflies,dragonsandairplaneswouldbloomfromhisfingertips,delightingLukasandme.IneversawWillemfollowadesignfromabook.Hemusthaveknownhundredsofpatternsinhishead.
“IamabadChinese,”hewouldsay,shakinghishead.“ResortingtoJapanesearts.Butitsoothesme.”
“Itisbecauseyouhavenofamily,noroots,”Helenaanswered.“Wastefulhabit.Usesupsomuchpaper.”Butdespiteherscolding,shehadsoughtoutbeautifullypatternedorigamipaperandleftthepackagesaroundthehouseforhimtofind,asifbyaccident.Helenawaskindtoeveryoneexceptme.
ThelasttimeIhadbeenatSchipholAirport,IhadtakenthehandofawomanIdidnotknowandwalkedawaywithhertostartanewlife.ShewasthemotherIhadyearnedfor,butmyhearthadnomoreroomforher.Ithadbeentoolate.Turningbacktolookatthem:littleLukaswithhiswoebegoneface,Helena’sthinlyhiddenrelief,Willemfilledwithregret,GrandmastaringatbothmeandMaasifshewantedtorunandjoinus.
AndwhathadIaccomplishedinalltheseyearsaway?Iwantedsomuchandhadbeenabletoholdontosolittleofit.WhenhaditbeguntofallapartwithJim?WasitafterourconversationonthewayhomefromhisfriendCaitlin’sbabyshower?
Ofcourse,Jimhadtonsoffemalefriends.CaitlinandJimhadgonetothesameexclusiveprivateschoolbeforePrinceton.Shewastall,freckled,adoredhorsesandsailboats.Incollege,wehadspentaweekendwithherandherthen-boyfriend,now-husband,Xavier,onherfather’sranchinWyoming.“Wouldyoumindterriblyiftherestofuswentoutforaride?”shehadaskedmeapologetically,assumingthatpoorimmigrantmewouldbeataloss.“Oh,IthinkI’lljoinyou,”Ihadanswered,“Ilovehorses.”IthadbeensatisfyingtoseehermouthslackenasIswungintothesaddleandnudgedthemareintoatrot.IdidnottellherthatmyoldfriendEstellehadbeenhorsecrazy,likesomanyDutchgirls,andhaddraggedmealongtogroomandrideherhorseUmbraeveryweek.IhadshoveledlotsofhorseshitwithEstelle.
Aboutayearandahalfago,JimandIwereinthecaronthewayhomeaftercongratulatingaheavilypregnantCaitlinwhenhesaid,“Whataboutus?”
Istaredoutthewindowasthehighwayspedby,pretendingIhadnotheardhim.Ijumpedwhenhereachedoverandtouchedmyhand.
“Iknowyoudon’twanttotalkaboutit,buttime’srunningout.We’vebeenmarriedayearnow.I’dhoped—”Iheardwhathewasnotsaying.You’regoingtobetoooldsoon.WhenIfinallymethisgaze,hisblueeyestoldmewhathelongedfor:atinysoftbeingdependentonhim,cominghometoawifebakingbananabread,afadedlandscapewherehewouldbelovedandadmiredasaking.
Itriedtogentlemytone.“YouknowIworkeightyhoursaweek,Jim.AndmymentorsaysI’mdoingsowell.”
Jimgaveahalfshrug,likehedidnotcare.
Irolledmyeyes.Sotypical.“Thiscurrentproject,I’minvolvedfromtheconceptualstagetothecompletionandoperationofthefacility.Doyouknowwhatthatmeans?I’mnotsayingnever—justanotheryearortwo,that’sall.”IwasnotgoingtothrowawayeverythingIhaddone,everythingIwas.Whydiditnotmattertoanyoneelse?
“Sweetheart,youknowhowproudIamofyou.Butaren’tweimportanttoo?Wealreadywaitedsolongtogetmarriedbecauseofyourcareer,”hesaidsoftly.Theautumnsunwassettingandasitsoakedthroughthewindshield,itturnedhisfaceintoapalegoldenmask.Brilliantlycoloredleavesweretornfromthetreesaswespedby,swirlingintheairwhiletheysearchedforafinalrestingplace.
“Ofcourse.Butit’smybodythat’sgoingtobetakenover,Jim.Mylifethatwillbeputonhold.It’suporoutatthecompany.IfIdon’tgetpromotedtoengagementmanagerinthenextyearorso,I’mout.Thecomingperiodiscritical.”Myheartratequickenedatthethoughtofit—acryingbaby,likewhenAmyhadbeenatoddlerwithoneofhertantrumsandIwasalonewithherandallIwantedwastodomyhomeworkinpeaceandbefreetoplayatothergirls’houses.Thiswasmyfault.IfIhadnotwastedthoseyearsworkingasachemicalengineer,searchingforwhoIwas,Iwouldnotbeolderthantheotherassociates.Iwouldhavehadtimetobuildmycareerandthenhaveachild.
Thecarnexttousbeeped,suddenlyveeringintoourlane.
Jimhitthebrakesintimetoslowdown.“Jerk,”hemuttered.Hisfingersclenchedthesteeringwheel.“Icantaketimeofftoo.”
Ibitbackthewords:Youdon’treallyhaveacareer.Youalwayshaveyourparents’moneyandfamilyname,anicecushysafetynettolandon.Butsomeofmyguiltandbitternessescapedmeanyway.“Youhavenoideawhatababywouldmean.Ialwayshavetobethepracticalone.”
ThetendonsonJim’sforeheadprotrudedandaflushdarkenedhischeekbones.Heraisedhisvoice.“Youalwayshavetobeincontrolandyoucan’tbeartoloosenup.Well,I’dliketocomefirstinthisrelationshipforachange.”
“You’rejealous.”Ispatoutthewords.“Youfeelemasculatedtohaveawifewhoearnssixtimeswhatyoudo.”Therewasadreadfulsilence.Ihadgonetoofar.Jimhadturnedintoastatuebesideme.Hesqueezedhiseyesshutforamoment.Iwassuchahorribleperson.“Jim,I’msorry.”
Hetookadeepbreathandgavemeacoldsmile.Hisvoicewaspolite.“Let’snottalkaboutthisanymore.”Andwehadnot.
God,Iwasgladtogetawayfromeverything.WeexitedtheplaneandIquicklystrodethroughtheairport.Mysoulleapedasifithadbeenfreedofitsbindings.IhadleftthejungleofNewYorkCityandwasbackinthewarmandwelcomingplains.Whatagorgeousandefficientairport.HowmanycitieshadIbeeninbynow?Somanyflightsforwork.AweekinahotelinAtlanta,anotherinChicago,thenacoupleofdaysinSanFrancisco.IthadnotbeeneasyforJimeither.Nomoreofthat,Sylvie.Leaveitallbehind.Itookadeepbreath.MyshouldersstartedtorelaxagainstthemusicalbackgroundofDutchvoicesallaroundme.Ialmostshiveredwithpleasure.Icouldstillunderstandeveryoneperfectly.Littletreasure,haveyouseenmyboardingpass?Hallo,taxi,wehavelanded,whereshouldwemeetyou?Nowyouhavetostopthatupimmediatelyoryoumaynothaveanylicorice.
Iquicklyfoundmybagsandexitedthroughthearrivalsgate.Myeyesscannedthecrowd,lookingforHelena,Willem,andLukas,especiallyLukas.Hadhenotcome?Wherewashe?Butthen,therewasagreatAsianmanstandingbeforemeinsteadofthelittleboyIhadsubconsciouslybeenlookingfor.IdidnotrecognizeLukasinhimatall.Theadorablechubbycheekshadturnedintoasharp,angularface;wheredidthissquarejawcomefrom,thehighforehead?Wherewerethescrawny,vulnerableshoulders?Thiswasastranger.Myheartdeflatedlikeanoldbicycletire.Themanwasclean-shaven,hislonghairneatlycombedback,stillwetfromtheshower.IspokeDutchforthefirsttimeinyears,mytongueslowlygrowingusedtothetwistsandturnsonceagain.“AreyouLukas?Irecognizeyounot.”
Hesmiledandthengavemethreekissesonthecheeks,withnoneoftheforcedintimacyofAmericanhugging,whereyouhavetokeepyourbreastsawayfromtheclosenessoftheotherperson.Butstill,mybodyremainedstiff.Heheldmeatarm’slength,anintenseburninginhiseyesInowremembered.“Youareunchanged.”
Hisvoicewassodeep,notsqueakinglikeitusedtowhenLukaslaughedhimselfsick.IsearchedforsomethingtosaytothispersonInolongerknew.IwantedmyoldLukasback.“SoyoucamebackfromNepal?”
“Ihadenoughofthecontinuoustravelinganyway.”
IdidnotmentionGrandma.Acloudofgriefhidbehindhiseyes.Ialreadyknewwhyhehadreturned.Therewasanotherawkwardsilence.IlookedaroundforHelenaandWillem.Theyhadnotcome.Shehadoutsmartedmeonceagain.WhatafoolIhadbeen,choosingmyexpensive,seeminglycasualslacksandblousewithsuchcare.Fixingmyhairandmakeupinthemirrorontheairplane,toensureHelenawouldknowthatanewSylviehadreturned.
Lukas’squickeyesunderstoodwithoutmysayinganything.Hestumbledoverthewords,hischeeksstainedwithshame.“Itwasnotpossibleformyparents—”
Icuthimoff.“Iunderstand.”Webothknewwhataninsultthiswas.
Heslunghislargeblackcamerabagacrosshisback,thentookmysuitcasewithonehandandstartedshoulderinghiswaythroughthecrowd.Aswedodgedpastpeopleonourwayoutoftheterminal,hesaid,“Ithoughtaboutpickingyouupwithmyscooterbutwecouldnotfityourluggage.Isthetraingoodordoyouwanttotakeataxi?”
HelenaandWillemhadnotlethimusethecar.“Ilovethetrain.”
“Didyoueverrideononebeforeyouleft?”Lukaspunchedthebuttonsandboughttwoticketsfromtheyellowmachine.
“ClasstriptothatmuseuminAmsterdam,doyouremember?”Ismiledatthememory.Hehadbeenmypartner,asalways.Weusedtoholdhandsasweskippedacrosstheschoolyard,eventhoughsomekidstitteredatusforbeingaboyandagirlandstillsoclose—mybestfriendandmycousin.OnSinterklaas,webothhadpatheticsurprisesmadebyGrandma,whoknewnothingofSaintNicholas.Astheotherkidsunveiledhugepapier-machécreationsofrobotsandhockeyfieldsfilledwithcandyandpresents,wehadthinlycurledcardboardsurprisesthatbarelyresembledanythingbutthetoiletpaperrollstheywere.Forthefirsttime,IwonderedwhatLukashadenduredafterIhadleft.
Hegrinned.“Irememberwefoughtaboutwhowouldsitnexttothewindowuntiltheteacherthreatenedtoseparateus.”Anythingbutthat—wehadquieteddownimmediately.
“Howiseveryone?”Iaskedaswestrodedownthemotorizedwalkwaytotheloweredtrainplatform.Thewheelsofmysuitcaseemittedahigh-pitchedwhineastheyscrapedagainsttheribbedmetalfloor.
Wewaitedforthetrainintheundergroundstationashefilledmein.EstellewasflyingforKLM;hisphotojournalismwasgoingwell,hehadspreadsinafewgoodDutchandinternationalmagazines,butittooktimetobreakintosuchacompetitivefield;hewasrentingthatgarageapartmentfromhisparentsandhatingit,eventhoughitwaspracticalfornow.
Thenoursleektrainarrivedandwegoton.Isatacrossfromhimandstudiedhimaswetraveledbacktoourlittlevillagealongthecoast.Underneaththeleansculpturedlinesofhisface,Icouldjustmakeouttheboyhehadoncebeen:shy,loyal,mischievous.Hiseyeswerestillwarm,litwithhumorandintelligence,andslowly,hecameintofocusformeagain,myLukas.Whenyoutrulylovesomeoneandyouseethemagain,evenifitismanyyearslater,theirnewfaceblendsbackintotheiroldfaceanditislikenotimehaspassedatall.Wespedonwardthroughthetunneland,finally,burstthroughtheotherside.Inowsawtheorderlygreencountrysidethatwassofamiliartome,likeahalf-rememberedmemoryofalullabythathadcomfortedmeasachild.Evenfrominside,Icouldfeelthedifferenceinthewetandcaressingair.Theclockathometickedinawayittickednowhereelse.Therainbeatsteadilyaboveourheads.“Howdoesitcomethatyouhavegrownintosuchagiant?”
Helaughed—aboomingsoundthatsurprisedme.“Howisityouarenotdifferentatall?”
“What?”Isaidwithmockoutrage.“Howcanyousaythat?Lookatthis.”Ipointtomyrighteye.“Andthis.”Ibaremyperfectteeth.“Yearsofwearingthateyepatch.Anditcostmeafortunetogetthattoothpulledandafakeoneputinitsplace.IhaditdonethemomentIwentawaytocollege.NowyousayIamnodifferent!”
“Actually,Istillhaveregretaboutthataccidentwithyourtooth.”
Isniffed.Anaccidentishiddeninalittlecorner,wherenooneexpectsit.WhenIwassevenyearsold,IhadbeenridingonthebackofLukas’sbikewhenwecrashedandalmostknockedoutmyfronttooth.“Well,itwasatinybitmyfaulttoo.”
“Youwereswingingbackandforth,singingwithafullchest.Youdidyourbesttomakeusfall.Thatyousucceededintoo.”
Outside,itbegantoraincowtailsandItracedmyfingersalongthestreaksthewaterleftontheexteriorofthewindowpanes.Wewerewarm,safe,anddry.Thepatteroftherainbeatagainstthesteadyroarofthetrainand,betweenthebeadingraindrops,Icaughtaglimpseofourreflectionsintheglass.Lightningflashedandforamoment,itwasasifourimagesflickeredbetweenthechildrenwehadbeenandthemanandwomanwewerenow.
“Icannotbelievehowlongithasbeen,”Isaid.
“Younevercameback.”Therewassadnessinhisvoice.
“Youdidnotcometovisitme.”Thenwewerebothsilent,thinkingoftheinterveningyears.HowIcouldnotbeartohaveonefootinbothcountries.HowIhadbecomeawareofHelena’sunderlyinghatredofmeonceIgrewolder.HowmyloveforhimandGrandmahadnotbeenenoughtoovercomemyfearofHelena.Andmycomplicated,twistedrelationshipwithWillemhadnothelpedmatters.
Finally,Idaredtoask,“HowisGrandma?”
“Shedoesnothavemuchtimeleft.Shehasbeenwaitingforyou.”Whenweweresevenyearsold,astraykitten,apuffofgrayfurandbrightblueeyes,hadfollowedushomefromschool.Lukashadnotletitoutofhissight,crawlingaroundonthefloorwithit,creatingtoysforitoutofnewspaperandcardboard.Despiteallofourbegging,Helenahadmadeusgivethekittentotheanimalasylumafteronlyafewdays.Lukas’seyeshadlookedlikethisthen,asiftheycouldnotcontainthedepthsofhishopelessness.
Ipressedmylipstogetherandnodded.Weweresilentagain.
Thenabruptly,Lukassaid,“Myparentswouldhavecomebuttherewasanemergencyattherestaurant.”Aflushmottledhisneck.
Whydidthisstillhurtafteralltheseyears?“Youdonotneedtolietome.DidIevertellyou?IphonedtherestaurantofyourparentslastyeartocongratulateyouonyourbirthdaysinceIcouldnotreachyouonyourmobile.”
“IthinkIwasinAfricacoveringastorythen.Noreception.”
“AwomanspeakingperfectDutchansweredthephone.ShetoldmeyouwerenotthereandthenaskedwhoIwas.Shehadmespellmyname.AtfirstIhadnotrecognizedhervoiceandthoughtitwasanemployee,but,slowly,Irealizeditwasyourmother,pretendingshedidnotknowme.”IswalloweddownechoesoftheangerandhumiliationIhadfelt.“Ididnotconfronther.”
Lukaswinced.“Iamsorry,Sylvie.”
Ireachedoverandlaidmyhandonhisarm.“Itisnouse.”
Hisheadwasrestingbackagainsttheseat,buthestudiedmeasifhecouldnotbelieveIwastrulythere.Hepulledahugecamerafromhisbagandasked,“MayI?”
Inodded.Whenwewerelittle,LukashadusedupthefilminhisPolaroidcameraatanamazingrate.Hespenttherestofthetrainridetakingphotosofme,thelandscape,atearintheseatnexttohim.Thejetlagwasbeginningtocatchuptome.Ihalfclosedmyeyes,leaningmyforeheadagainstthewindow,andcontinuedtodream.
Luckily,inoneofthoseabruptchangesofschizophrenicDutchweather,therainhadstoppedbythetimewegotoffthetrain.Ibreathedinthegentleair.Itsmelledlikecutgrass.Cloudsdancedinthebrightbluesky.AssoonasIsawtheunevenbrickstreets,Ipausedforamoment,shookmyhairloose,andsatatabenchtochangeoutoftheheelsIhadworntoimpressHelenaintoflatshoes.TheirhousewasnotfarfromthestationanditwasaneasywalkalongtheVechtRiver.Lukaspulledmybag,thewheelsbumpingagainstthesmallerbricksthatmadeupthesidewalk.
Peoplenoddedtousaswepassed.Ihadforgotten.NomoreofthatstrictavoidanceofeyecontactlearnedinNewYorkCity.Theyconsideredmewithcuriosity,butaslongasIsmiledandsaidgooddaybacktothem,theyweresatisfied.Therewereafewchangestothisformermedievalfishingvillage.Alargemodernsupermarketinthecenter,abank,ATMs,anofficebuildingwithonlyfourstories.TherewasalittleredmailboxbesidealargebluetrashreceptaclethatlookedsomuchlikethemailboxesintheUnitedStates.WhenIhadfirstarrivedinNewYork,Mabarelystoppedmeintimefromthrowingmystickycrumpledtissuesintothemailbox,whichIhadassumedwasthegarbagecan.
Therewasthehouseagain.Mystomachclenched.ItwasjustasIrecalled—darkandcoldwithimpenetrablewindows.TheyhadbuiltanapartmentabovetheseparategarageforLukas.No,Ihadnevermissedthishouse,onlysomeofthepeopleinit.AsLukasletusinside,IwassurprisedbyhowmuchIremembered.
Thewaythefrontdoorstuckandwouldnotclickshutbehindyouunlessyougaveitanextrapushwithyourhip.Thekeyrackwasstillthere,withextrasetstothehouseandgarage,nowLukas’sapartment.Ihadgrowntallenoughtoreachiteasily.Theyhadchangedtheinteriortomodern:theolddarkwoodreplacedbygrayandorangegarishness.Theroomsimmeredwithflickeringshadows.Thelightswereofftoconserveelectricity,aswasthecaseinmostDutchhomes.Theheatwassetlowaswell—Thicksweaterday:whynotwearone,itisbetterfortheenvironmentandyourenergybill.Myfeetknewwheretoslipoffandleavemyshoes.Myarmsrecalledthecoathangersthatjangledagainsteachother.Myhandreachedforthelightswitchhalf-hiddenbehindtheoldVermeerprintonthewallwithoutathought,eventhoughInolongerhadtogoontiptoe.
HowIhaddreadedthemornings,thetimeHelenaandWillemwerehomebeforeleavingfortherestaurantandreturninglateinthenight.Theafternoonsandeveningshadbeenlovely,onlymeandLukasandGrandma,eatingoursimplemealsoffreshriceinthelamplightinsteadoftherichrestaurantfareWillemandHelenabroughtback.Mostdays,Iwasinbedbeforetheycamehome.Imadesureofit.
ButtherehadbeengoodtimeswithHelenatoo.Dayswhenshetookmeshoppingfordresses,boughtmecoloredelasticsformyhair.Onewinter,theVechtRiverhadfrozenover.IwasamazedtofinditpackedwithpeopleIrecognizedasneighbors.Ihuggedtheshore,expectingtheicetocrackandswalloweveryonewhole.Itwasoneofmynightmares,tobetrappedunderneaththesurfaceofthewater.Butearlierthatmorning,HelenahadrootedaroundinthegarageuntilshefoundpairsofskatesforWillem,Lukas,me,andherself.
“IpickedtheseupattheopenmarketduringthelastQueen’sDay,”sheexplained.Peoplesoldtheirusedtoysandclothingforalmostnothingthen.“Thechildren’sskatesareadjustable,sotheyshouldstillfitthetwoofyou.”
Then,whileWillemtaughtLukas,Helenapulledmeintothecenteroftheriver,theicesmoothunderneathmyfeet,thetreacherouswatertamedintosubmission.Ihungontoherandshelaughed.Thensheunfoldedtheplasticchairshehadbroughtforme.Iheldontoitsbacklikemanyoftheotherchildrenaroundme.
“Pushwithyourlegs,”shesaid.“Keepyourweightforward.Youaredoingfine.”
IusedthefoldingchairasaskatingaidandlearnedtoglideacrosstheicewithHelenabymyside.Irememberedmyinitialsurprisethatshecouldskateperfectly,butofcourse,shehadgrownupintheNetherlands.Ithadbeenagloriousday.
NowLukaswaswatchingme.“Welcomehome,”hesaid,hisfacefallingintoseriouslines.Heknewbetterthananyonehowbittersweetmychildhoodhadbeen.
Althougheverythinginthehousehadbeenreplacedbysomethingmoreexpensive,thefurniturewasequallyuglyandgrim.Icouldseefromtheuncomelymarbletilesthattheyhadfloorheatingnow.Theoldflowerycouchwrappedinvinylwasgone.Thefireplacestillsatcoldandemptybecausethesmokewoulddamagethefurniture.Therewasnocozyrugtodispelthechillbecauserugscollecteddust.Thecurtainswereasgloomyasever.
Nobooks,nomusic.Butallaroundtheroom,photosofLukas:onthebeach,atpreschool,wearinganenormouspaperhatwithanumber4stapledtothepeacock-liketufts—hisfourthbirthday,readytoleaveandstartelementaryschoolthenextday.Thatwasmyhandonhisshoulder.IwasnotinthephotobutIhadbeenthere,watchinghim,tryingnottocrythatmyLukaswouldbedepartingourpreschoolwhileIhadtostayuntilItooturnedfour.LukasholdinguphisAdiplomaforswimming,beaming,missinghistwofrontteeth.HelenahadusedthesillyprophecythatIwoulddiebywaterasanexcusetostopmefromtakingswimminglessons,whicheverysingleotherchildintheneighborhooddid.IntheNetherlands,waterwaseverywhere.Kidscouldfallintocanalsnexttotheirhouse,byschool,inthefields.Thedangeroffloodingwasalwaysimminent,andtheDutchwereforeverawarethatitwasthenatureofwatertoflowbacktoreclaimitsown.
SwimminglessonswereexpensivebutIsuspecteditwasmoreaboutthehumiliationofGrandmabringingmealongtoLukas’slessons.Iwastheonlychildwhosatonthebleachersnexttotheadultsinsteadofbeinginthewater.ButGrandmacouldnotleavemealoneathomeandshewassosuperstitiousthatshethoughtthiswasafineidea.Atschool,allofthekidschattered:DidyougetyourBdiplomayet?I’malreadystartingmyC.Thebirthdaypartiesheldattheswimmingpool,whichIwasnotallowedtoattend;theoutingstothebeach.Tripsoutonthatflat-bottomedfamilyboattheymooredontheVecht.Ifeltmyselfaforeignleg,amisfit.Thereweresomanyoccasionstoexcludeme.SoIpretendedIdidnotwanttolearnhowtoswimanyway,untilmyimagineddisinclinationbecamereality,likesomanythingswedesiredaschildren.
NowIsawtheyearsIhadmissed—Lukasonthecuspofpuberty,halfchild,halfadolescent,sittingonanadultbikethatwasfartoobigforhim.Athishighschoolgraduation,awkwardandgangly,withmyoldfriendEstelle—shewassotall!—herteethaflashofmetalbraces,herwhite-blondhairinaponytail,hugginghimastheylaughedtogether.Ifeltaflashofloneliness,aretroactivelongingtobebytheirsideinallthoseinterveningmoments.Therewasnotasinglephotoofme.IhadbeenerasedasifIhadneverexisted.
Istaredatasmallbaskettokeepfromcrying.Itwasfilledwithtinyfoldedbitsoforigamipaper.SoWillemstillhadhishobby—andwhatabouthisfurtiveaffection,hisclumsyattemptstooffsethiswife’shostilitytowardme?Iwasagrownwomannow.WhyhadHelenatreatedachildlikethat?Whydidshetakemeinatallifshehatedme?IwantedtoaskherbutdespiteallIhadaccomplishedsinceIhadleft,IdoubtedIhadthenerve.Icouldhardlybreathethroughtheemotionsthatwererunningacrossmyfacelikeasheetofshallowwater.
Lukascameandslippedhisarmthroughmine.“Isitgoingallright?”
Icouldnottrustmyselftospeak.Myheartwasbeatingquickly,myeyesburning.Ihadnotexpectedthisroom,remodeledfortheoutsideworldyetatitsheartunchanged,todothistome.IhadchosentoforgetasmuchasIcould.
Butasalways,Lukasunderstood.
“IlefthereasnothingandIhavereturnedasnothing.”Myvoicecracked.
Hisintelligenteyesdroppedtomylefthand,whereIstillworemyweddingring.IcouldnotbearforHelenatoknowofmyfailure.Hisvoicewaslowandwarm.“Youwerealwayssomething,Sylvie.Youshonelikealightinourclass.Donotletmymother…”Hebrokeoff.“Iamsosorryshe…andInever…”
“Butyoudid.YouusedtosneakmefoodwhenIwasbeingpunished,remember?Andyouwerejustachildyourself.”Thatword,punished,stuckinmythroat.Lukashadneverletmedown.
“Shewasnotalwayslikethat.Itwasasyougrewolderthatshe—”Again,hecouldnotfinish.
IdidhavevaguememoriesofawarmandcomfortingHelena,onewhohummedasshebraidedmyhair,butsomehow,shehadstoppedlovingme,aseveryoneelsedid,exceptforLukasandAmy.HelenamadesureIknewshewasnotmymother.ThosedisembodiedvoicesonthetelephonethatIheardonceinabluemoonweremyrealparents.HowhelplessIhadbeen.Nomore.Bitternessinthemouthmakestheheartstrong.IrealizedthenthatperhapsIhadnotbeenworkingsohardalltheseyearsjusttoearntheloveofMaandPa,buttobecomeanequaladversarytoHelena.
Chapter9
Ma
Tuesday,May5
Oneyearturnedintotwo,thenthree,andmore.Therewasneverenoughmoneyfortheflight,foranothermouthtofeed,neverenoughtimetoleavetheworkplace.Itwouldbenineyearsbeforemygirlreturnedtous.ItwasafterAmy,Mei-Li,myBeautifulJasmine,wasbornandhadgrowntotwoyearsold.WhenIgaveSnowJasmineaway,IdidnotrealizeIwouldneverfullygetherback.SylvieleftapieceofherspiritbehindinHolland.
Shewasaquiet,listening-to-orderschild,alwaystryingtoblendintothewoodwork,sounlikeAmy,wholaughedandsangmorethanshespoke.SylviedidnotspeakanywordsoftheBraveLanguagewhenshearrived,onlyHollandtalkandCentralKingdomtalk.HerspeechoftheCentralKingdomwasgood,farbetterthanAmy’swouldeverbe.Anddespitethemouth-sufferingofAmy’sstutter,Icouldonlythinkofthatasyetanotherfailureonmypart.GrandmahadsucceededintransferringourlanguageandculturetoSylvie,whereasIhadfailedwithAmy.Ofcourse,mymawasfreetospendallherdayswithmygirl,whileIworkedforalmostallthedaysoftheirchildhood.
Sylviehadlostthebabyloveliness.Herlazyeye,herbenttooth,andthathauntedlookmadehertoointenseandforeignforthetastesoftheBeautifulCountry.WhenItriedtomakeupfortheyearsIhadnotbeenabletoholdher,herbodystiffenedandpulledaway,scramblingtogetasfarawayfrommeasshecould.ShemissedHelena,Willem,andGrandma,nodoubt.
Slowly,shespokethelanguageoftheCentralKingdomless,orperhapsshewasonlynotspeakingmuchtomeingeneral.Ifelthermovingfurtheraway.Sometimeswhenshewouldlookupfromherhomework,withaquickwaryflickerofhereyes,Iwouldseeit:shedidnottrustus.Ididnotblameher.Whobelievedinparentswhosentyouawaysothatsomeoneelsecouldraiseyou?Thedistancebetweenusneverdisappeared.Itonlybecameobscuredbythedailypatternoflife.PaandIscrimpedtoraiseourchildren.IsearchedthesecondhandshopsordidmybesttoreplicateonmysewingmachinetheWesterncostumesIsaw.Itriedtofeedthemenoughwhitevegetables,buythemsnakegourdpeelandwoodearmushroomswhentheywereill,prayingthatnothingintheapartmentbrokethatwecouldnotfixourselvesbecausethelandlordneverdidanything.
ImademygirlssweeteggdropsouponwintrydaysbutSylviescornedit,sweepingoutthedoormostmorningswithoutamouthful.Iacceptedthis,knowingshewasaccustomedtobetterfoodfromHelena.ThenPaandIweregoneuntillateintheeveninganditwasSylvie’stasktocareforheryoungersister.Imarveledthatshediditsowell,andwiththeburdenofherownschoolwork.ItdidnotoccurtomeuntilitwastoolatetowonderwhereSylvie’sfriendswere,ifshehadeverwantedtodoanythingotherthanherduty.Iadmitit;Ihadnotwantedtoknow.Myignorancehadbeenself-serving.
Ibecamejealousofmyownmother,Sylvie’sgrandma,whoinsomewayswasmorehermathanIcouldeverbe.IwonderedwhatSylvie’srelationshipwaslikewithHelenaandWillembutsheneverspokeofthem.Theynevercontacteduseither.TheonlypersonSylvielovedwithallherheartwasAmy.SheclutchedAmytoher,lavishingkissesuponAmy’sroundedpinkcheekslikeshewasdevouringadeliciousapple.ItwasasifSylviepouredallofherwarmthandlaughterintoAmy,andshehadsomuchtogive.PaandIonlyreceivedafewdropletsonceinawhile,moreoutofdutythananythingelse,Isuspected.
ThenSylvieleftelementaryschool,testedintooneofthosespecialNewYorkCityschoolsforsmartkids,anditwasasifshehadbeenlaunchedintoorbit.Shewasspectacular—oneperfectreportcardafteranother,despitethefactthatshesoldnewspapersandranerrandsinherfreetimenowthatAmywasbigger.Shewassoindependent,soimportant.Thetruthwas:Iwasafraidofher.Icouldnotunderstandherorherlife.Iwas,afterall,onlyasimplewomanfromalittlevillageinChina.
Theredescendedsuchabarrierbetweenmeandmydaughters,likeacurtainthroughwhichyoucouldonlyvaguelymakeoutthefiguresontheotherside.TheBraveLanguagebelongedtothedevilwithallofitsstrangeconsonants,apuzzleIcouldnotsolve,andtheywereconstantlychatteringinit:stories,joys,andpains.Idesperatelytriedtounderstand.Inevercould.Icouldnotreachthemandtheybarelynoticedme.IaskedthemtospeakCentralKingdomtalkbuttheyignoredmeasifIhadbeenplayingtheluteforacow.
IknewIcouldnotdothethingsforthemthatothermothersdid.IftherewasaproblematAmy’sschool,Sylviehadtotakecareofit.IftherewasanissuewithSylvie,shesolveditherself.Whenthestutteringmouth-sufferingofAmybecameaheadache,SylvieskippedherownclassestospeakwithAmy’steachers.Evenwithherbrilliantmind,solikeherfather’s,Sylvieoftenstayedupuntillateintothenighttofinishherschoolwork.WhenItiptoedtoherbedtolayablanketacrossherthinbackorofferacupofoolongtea,heranswerwasalways,“Donotfussoverme,ah-Ma.Gosleep.Youcannothelpmeanyway.”AndPaandIwerealwaysworking.Thechildrencamehometoanemptyapartmentandalltheyhadwaseachother.Whocouldblamethem?
TherewassomuchwisdomIcouldnevermanagetopassontothem.Inevereventaughtthemhowtopray,thoughIbelieveweallfindourownpathtothegods.Iclosedmyeyes,sittinginfrontofrowsofmummifiedclothinginthedrycleaners.Thegreatgodshavegreatcompassion.Letthegooddrawnear,letevildesist.PleaseprotectmySylvie,letherbesafe,letherbehealed.
AndthenGrandmafellill.Iwouldneverseeheragain,myheartstem,andSylviehadgonetoholdherasshepassed.NowSylviewasmissingaswell.Ihadlostthemboth.Iputmyheaddownonthetableandwept.
Chapter10
Sylvie
Saturday,April2
“Areyouready?”Lukasasked.
Inoddedandwewentupthestairs.TheyseemedshallowerthanIremembered.Beforeweenteredtheroom,Icouldsmellthesicklyscentofmedicineanddeath.TherewasGrandma.Hadshealwaysbeensotiny?Herbodywasbarelyalumpunderneaththecovers.Herlittlefeetendedsomewhereinthemiddleofthebedandshewassittingupright,proppedagainstamountainofpillows,staringatme.
Withagasp,Irushedtohersideandtookbothofherhandsinmine.Irestedmycheekagainsthers.Ididnotkissher,asGrandmahadnevertakentothatDutchcustom—Whydotheyalllickmeonthecheeks,andthreetimestoo?Isoncenotenough?
Evenwiththeoxygenglasses,thesmallflexibleplastictubesdirectingairtohernose,shewasbreathingquickly.Ihadnotknownshewasonoxygentherapy.ShesaidinChinese,“SnowJasmine.Youhavereturned.”
IswitchedtoTaishanese,thedialectofheroldvillageinChina.“Grandma.Ithasbeentoolong.”
Icouldseethebonesofherskullclearlythroughherthin,fineskin.Herskeletonwasbeginningtotriumphoverflesh,herbrighteyessunkenanddimmed;herthickblackhairhadgonefine,wispyandcompletelywhite.Bitsofpinkscalpshowedthrough.Hadittrulybeensolong?
Grandmaworealong-sleevedfloweryshirtshehaddoubtlessmadeherself.Shewassosmallthatnothingstore-boughtinthiscountryofgiantseverfither.Theblousehungonhergauntframe,heremaciatedhandsandwristsprotrudingfromlacesleeves,limpagainstthecoverlet.WherewerethestronghandsIremembered,theonesthatguidedmehomeafterschooleachdayandstirredtheflourforwontonsanddumplings?
Shesmiledatme,happinessbrighteninghereyes,andIcaughtaglimpseoftheelegantwomanshehadoncebeen,alwaysimmaculatelydressedandmade-up,waitingformeandLukaseachdayafterschool.Wewouldoftenfindsomeotherkid’sgrandpatoweringoverher,laughingandtryingtocommunicatewithherdespitehowfewwordsofDutchshe’dlearned.ShewassounlikeMaandAmy,whonevercaredhowtheyappeared.Nowherlipswerewhiteandbare,vulnerableflesh.Alltheseyears,whenIhadthoughtaboutHolland,GrandmawastheoneIheldtomyheart.IhadblockedoutHelena.Thatwashowthemindworked,deceivingussowecouldbearthemanysorrowsoflife.
Myvoicewasthickwithunshedtears.“Ishouldhavecomesooner.”Myregretwasasplentifulasthehairsonmyhead.
“Youarebacknow.Andyouareaslovelyasever.”Hervoicewasthin,thewordsslurred.Underneaththehooksoftheoxygentubes,Icouldseeshehadhearingaidsinbothofherlargeears.Nexttoher,onthetablebesidetheoxygentank,sataphotoinasilverframe:meandLukas,thedayaftermybirthday,bothfouryearsold,handinhand,myfirstdayatelementaryschool.ForGrandma,Ihadalwaysexisted.Theimagewasfromthetimebeforethecrookedtooth,andbeforemyrighteyestartedtomoveaway.Yes,Grandmawouldremembermeasbeautiful.
“Asareyou,”Isaid.
Shebarkedalaughandshookherhead.Iheardherfightforeachbreath.“Myhearthasbornetoomuchthroughtheyearsandnowitisfailing.Nooneshouldseemelikethis.”
“Onlybecauseyoudonothavetherighthelp.”Ireachedoutandtouchedhercoolfingers.“Icouldgetglossforyourhair,ifyouwant,andputsomemakeuponyou.”
Herlipssweptupward,andshesaid,“Wouldyou?Ihatelookinglikeanoldwoman.”
Lukas,whostoodbythedoor,laughed,andGrandmaandIjoinedin.“Whoismindingher?”Iaskedhim.
“Thehomecare.Sheiscominglatertoday.”
IturnedbacktoGrandma.“Iwillspeaktothenurseandifitisallowed,Iwillmakeyouup,okay?”
Hereyesweretremulous.“Itisgoodtohavemygirlback.Ihavesomethingforyou.Itisinthedrawernexttothebed.”
IslidthericketywoodendrawerofthebedsidetableopenandgaspedwhenIsawwhatwasinside.“Tasha!”Myoldragdoll,theoneGrandmahadmadeforme—andsomuchsmallerthanIremembered.Ismoothedherblackyarnhairbackwithafinger.ThefirsttimeIhadseenher,Ihadbeenamazedatadollthatwasdarklikeme,insteadofblondliketheBarbiesinthestores.TheripinTasha’sredsatindresshadbeenrepaired,herdarkbrowneyesrestitchedwithcare.IcouldstillseethestainwhereIhadoncespilledgrapejuiceacrossherleg.IpressedTashatomychest.“Ihavemissedher.”
“Iknow.Shehasbeenwaitinghereforyou,”Grandmasaid,andmyheartsmotemeagain,becauseIknewGrandmawasspeakingofherself.
IsetTashaonthebedsidetableandarrangedherinasittingposition.“Fornow,sheshallwatchoveryouandkeepyoucompany.”
“Sheisyours.”
“Iknowbutthereistimeenoughforthat.”WeallknewwhatImeant.IfeltbereftatthethoughtoftakingTashaawayfromGrandma,afterGrandmahadkepthersafeformealltheseyears.
Grandmaquirkedherlipsintoasmile.“Well,ImustsayIhavegottenusedtohavingyourdollaround.Andnowthatyouareback,Icandepartinpeace.”
“Noneofthatkindoftalk,Grandma.”
“Noworries,SnowJasmine.IwillnotpassonbeforeIgiveyoumytreasure.”
Oncewewereoutsideandthebedroomdoorwasclosed,IturnedtoLukas.“Isshetrulygettinghomecare?”
Hehesitated,andsaid,“Itispalliativecare.”
Ibecameverystill.Mybloodfeltlikeithadpooledinthebottomofmystomach.IhadlookedthisupbeforeIcame.IntheNetherlands,youonlyreceivedpalliativecareifthedoctorhadissuedastatementthatyouhadlessthanthreemonthstolive.
Lukaswenton,“Wethoughtaboutmovinghertoahospice.Thereisabeautifulonecloseby,almostcompletelyvolunteer-run,wheretheywouldcookheranythingshewanted,waitonherdayandnight.Butshepreferstostayhere.”
“Ofcourse.Didshemakeanyotherarrangements?”IknewfrommymanydiscussionswiththeDutchstudentsincollegehowdifferenttheoptionswerehereforthedying.
“Shehasbeenapprovedforeuthanasiaifsheshouldrequestit.”
Euthanasia.Threemonthsorless.Mydeargrandma,shehadbeeninvinciblewhenIlefther.Ileanedmyheadagainstthewallforamomentandclosedmyeyes.Ifeltateartrickledownmycheek.“Hasallhopealreadysailed?”
Henodded.Thedeeplinesaroundhismouthbetrayedhisgrief.“Sheistooweak.Oldagecomeswithdefects.YouknowGrandmahasswallowedhighbloodpressurepillsforyearsandnowherheartandlungscannotkeepupwiththedemandsofherbody.”
Thenweheardthefrontdooropenandweexchangedalook.IrubbedmyachingforeheadandcomposedmyselfbeforegoingdownstairstogreetHelenaandWillem.
Helena’seyes,coldandcalculating,watchedaswedescendedthestairs.Ifeltdizzy;asuddenwaveofjetlag,depression,andgriefsweptovermeandIswayedforamoment,holdingontotherailingtostayupright.Irecoveredandstraightened,makingsureIdescendedwiththedignityoftheformerqueenBeatrix.ThiswomanbeforemewastheHelenaIhadknown,andshewasnot.ShewasolderthanIhadexpected.ItwaslikeIwasseeingherforthefirsttime.Whatwasanadulttoachild—aheadinthedistance,avoice,aforceforkindnessorcruelty.Shehadcutherhair,whichusedtoliehalfwaydownherback.Ihadlovedtoholditbetweenmypalmsinthesmallmomentsofpeacewehadshared.
Theyearshadbeguntorevealthetruthofherface,astheydidtoallofus.ThesuperficialprettinessIrememberedhadyieldedtosomethingstiffandunrelentinginthesetofherlips,thefrownbetweenhereyes.IhadgrownintoawomanintheyearsIhadbeengone,andshe—whathadHelenabecome?Herfairskinhadturnedmask-like,andharshgrooveslinedthesidesofhernose.SheworeanoutdatedDolce&Gabbanatuxedojacketthatdidherhipsnofavorsoveranankle-lengthleopard-printfringepencilskirt.TryingtolookyoungerthanshewasandfailingmiserablywithchunkyVanCleef&Arpelsjewelrythatonlyemphasizedhershortneckandarms.Evenifanapeworeagoldenring,itwasandremainedanuglything.
Ifeltasurgeoftriumphthatasshehadgrownless,Ihadcomeintomyown.HereyesdriftedupmyLoroPianaoutfit,fromthepressedcreamslackstothewhitecap-sleeveblousetothesilkfloral-printstoleknottedaroundmyneck.ThenshecheckedouttheHermèsKellybagIhadtossedontothechairinthehallway,andeyedmyreversiblecashmerecoatinpearlblueandsilvermyrtle,whichhungfromhercoatrack.Ah,shespokemylanguage;Ilovedit.Ihadsuspectedshewould.Finally,wewerelegibletoeachother.MydesignerclothinghadalwaysbeeninvisibletoAmyandMa.AmyandIhadoftenfoughtwhenwewereyoungerbecauseshedidthingsliketromparoundtheroomplayingcowgirlinthethree-hundred-dollarYvesSaintLaurentsuedeanklebootsIhadfoundatasamplesale.Evenpayingdiscountprices,Ihadworkedandscrimpedformonthsforeachpurchase.NowIsawthesilentassessmentinHelena’seyes,thehatredkindlingonceagain.
Asalways,HelenaeclipsedWillem,whowasstaringupatmewiththesecretaffectionhehadalwaysshownmethathadturnedintosomethinghungrierovertheyears.AsachildI’dneededit,butnowIdespisedhimforit,forhisravenouseyes,forhisfearofHelena.Hisloveformehadalwaysbowedtoherwill,likeaplantgrownwithintheconfinesofabox.Ifhetrulycaredforme,hewouldhavedaredtostanduptoher.Hewouldnothavehiddeneverycaressofmyhair,everytinygift.
IfeltthesolidwarmthofLukasatmyback.
HelenasmiledandspoketomeinDutch,probablyhopingformetostumble.Asalways,heraccentwasflawless.Shehadbeenbornhere.“Sylvie,youareexactlywhatIhadexpected.”
Irepliedfluentlyinthesamelanguage.“Asareyou,CousinHelena.”
Sheblinkedamoment,takenaback,andthenweexchangedthreeemptyairkisses,neitherofustouchingtheother’sskin.IturnedtoWillemandwedidthesame,butIfelttheurgencyofhislipsagainstmycheek,thewayhishandsclutchedmyarms.Hewhispered,hisvoicetremblingwithemotion,“Ihavemissedyouso,Sylvie.”
Hehadalwayslovedmetoomuch,albeitsurreptitiously.IpulledawaybeforeHelenacouldnoticebutalsoknewitwastoolate.Shehadalwaysseenus.Ismiledathimandsaidnothing,onlytossedmyhairsothediamondstudshehadgivenmeglittered.Byhisquickintakeofbreath,Iunderstoodherecognizedthem.
“Howisyourma?”heasked,withafurtiveglanceatHelena,asiftryingtodistracther.
“Fine.”Iexhaled,relieved.Iwasgladtodistancemyselffromthisexcessofemotion.“MaandPaarebothingoodhealth.”
Helenachatteredasweallwentintothekitchen.Shewasplayingthegracioushostess.Ihadnotnoticedearlierthattheywerecarryingbagsoffoodfromtheirrestaurant,whichsmelleddelicious.Butastheywereunpacking,Helenasaid,“ThisisabitofacelebrationlunchtohaveourLukasreturntous.”
Iglancedathim.“Whendidyougetback?”
“Lastnight.Myprojectwascomingtoanendandthisseemedlikeagoodtimenottotakeonanythingelseyet.”Iheardthewordshehadnotsaid:sinceGrandmaisdying.
“Anyway,”Helenasaid,steppingbetweenusasshesetthetablewiththetraditionalredglazedChineseplatesIstillremembered,“wehavebroughtbackhisfavoritedishes—Szechuanprawnsandseabassbraisedinblackbeansauce.Icompletelyforgotthatyouareallergictoseafood.Ihopeyoudonotfinditadifficulty,Sylvie?”
Istoodthereamoment,asifshehadslappedme.ThiswastheHelenaIknew.Soquicklydidweshedthewisdomandkindnessofaccumulatedyears,howeasilywerevertedtoourformerselvesinthecompanyofthosewhohadknownusbefore.Ihadjustarrived,jet-laggedandexhausted,tothehousewhereIhadbeenamemberofthisfamilyforthefirstnineyearsofmylife,andHelenawantedtoremindmehowmuchofanoutsiderIwas,howmuchtheydidnotneedme.Thegroundsankawaybeneathmyfeet.TheworstwasseeinghowLukas’sheadsnappedup,hiseyeswidenedinshockandcheeksreddenedwithshame.WillemtoostaredatHelena,aghast.Heclearlyhadnotknownwhattheywerebringinghomeandthemessageitwouldsend.
“Mother,IamsurewehavefoodforSylvieintherefrigerator,”Lukassaid,pullingopenthefridgedoorwithunnecessaryforce.
“Naturally,”saidWillem,makinganefforttosmileatme.WealldidsuchagoodjobofpretendingwebelievedinHelena’s“accident.”“Icanalsocooksomethingfreshforyou,Sylvie.”
“Notaproblem.”Iknewhowthisgamewasplayed.WhenIwaslittle,Iwouldhaveslunktomyroomandhiddenintheblankets,willingmyselfnottocry.Nomore.“Iamasfullasanegg.Thewaytheyfeedyouinfirstclass,itisliketheythinkyouarestarving,”Ilied.Fortunately,Ihadlearnedallabouthumble-braggingfrommyso-calledfriends.TheyoftencameupwithstatementslikeOh,we’reflyingprivatetoourvacationhouseontheisland,notthatwedothatallthetime—justwhenit’smoreconvenient
Lukassaid,“Areyoucertain,Sylvie?Wehave—”
“Ohno,”Isaid,eventhoughIwaswillingmystomachnottogrowl.Hungermakesrawbeanssweet,butIsmiledandsankwithdeliberategraceintothecentralchairatthetable.“Icouldnoteatanotherbite.”
Helenastaredatmeamoment.ThenshecontinuedsettingoutthefoodasWillemhelpedher.Lukasgavemeahalfsmile.HeunderstoodexactlywhatIwasdoing,andpouredmeaglassofSpared,bubblymineralwaterwithlemon.Noice,ofcourse,unheardofinDutchhomes.
Helenasaid,“Yougoaheadupstairstounpackandrelax,Sylvie.”
“Ihavenohaste.”Ileanedbackinmychairwhiletheyfilledtheirplates,playingwithmyscarfbetweenmyfingers.Lukaskeptglancingatmeandhardlyateanyofhisownfood.Icouldseehefeltterrible,whichIregretted,butIenjoyedmakingHelenaawareofeverybitofherrudenesstome.Shehadensuredthateventhefriedricehadshrimpinit.Despitemyhunger,Ismiledthroughoutthemeal,soeverytimetheypassedthefoodortookabiteoffish,theycouldsensehowun-Chinesethisbehaviorwas,totreataguestinthisway.Willem’sforeheadheldaruddyglowandevenHelenaknockedherchopsticksontothefloorinanuncharacteristicallyclumsymove.
Thehomecarenursearrivedmidwaythroughthemeal,asturdyyoungwomannamedIsawithredhair,anosering,andtwolargediscearringsthatcreatedone-centimeterholesinherlobes.ShehadawidefriendlysmileandmadeupaplateforGrandma,whichshethentookupstairs.
“Makesureyoutakesomeforyourselftoo,Isa,”Helenasaid.ThistooIremembered,howeveryoneelsethoughtshewassokind,lovely,andpolite.Insomeways,thatwarmthwasreal.Iwastheonlyoneshedisliked.Whatwasitaboutmethatbroughtouttheworstinpeople?WhenIsahesitated,Helenapressedafullplateintoherhandsandgaveheraheapingscoopoffriedprawnrollstotopitoff.
Aftertheawkwardmeal,Lukascarriedmysuitcasetotheattic,whichhadbeenhisroomwhenwewerelittle.Grandma’sdoorwasshutandweheardIsachattingawayinside.Wepassedmyoldroomtoo,sotinythatithadbeenturnedintoacloset,filledwithoddsandends.WehadalwaysspentourtimeinLukas’sroomanyway.Allofhisthingsweregonebutthelinesoftherafters,theredcheckeredcurtainsbythesmallcircularwindowwerethesame,aswerethedormerwindowsthatextendedthelengthoftheroom.Icouldhavenavigatedthespaceblindfolded.
“Doyourememberhowoftenwebumpedourheadsagainsttheceiling?”Iasked.
“Thatwasbecauseyouneverlookedwhenyoulaunchedyourselfoffthebed,”hesaid,grinning.
Suddenly,itwastoomuchforme—theairinthishouse,sostillandcontained,smellingofHelena’sperfumeandGrandma’smedicines.Ifeltlikeananimalcaughtinatrap.Itossedmysuitcaseonthedeskandsaid,“Icanunpacklater.Showmewhereyouarelivingnow.”
Lukastookmetothelargeseparategarage.Hehadconverteditintoalivingspacewithasecondstorybuiltabovetheoriginalarea.Theoldgaragedoorhadbeenremovedandnowaneatreddoorsatinitsplace,besidewidecurtainedwindows.AsLukasfumbledwiththekey,alittleorangecatboltedintothegardenandthenskiddedonherhindlegs.Shescamperedbacktohisfeetandbattedattheshoelacesofhisdustyhikingboots.
“Whoisthis?”Icried,scoopingthecatintomyarms.
Lukasshookhishead.“Sheisincorrigible.HernameisCouscous.Ifoundherhalf-starvedinTurkeyawhileago.IcouldnotleavehertheresoIbroughtherhome.Shewillgetdirtalloveryourshirt.”
“WhocaresaboutastupidshirtwhenthereisanincorrigibleCouscous?Youlittleheart-thief,”Icrooned.Thecatblinkedatmewithherambereyes.Thetipofhercreamysnoutwaslightapricotbrown,asifshehadbeencaughtdrinkingchocolatemilk.ShewasalternatelywhiteandorangelikeacandycaneandwhenIcradledher,shebegantopurr,herfursodenseandsoft.“Youhavegoodtastetocomehereinsteadofthemainhouse,Couscous.IwishIcouldtakeyouhomewithme.”
“Iknowsolittleaboutyourdailylife,”Lukassaid.“Doyouhaveahouse?Aflat?”
“Youshouldcome.JimandIliveinanapartment.”Ifeltapang.Jimwasnotthereanymore.Ihadmanagednottothinkabouthimforafewhoursnow.Westeppedinsidethedarkconvertedgarageand,foramoment,Iwasblindedbythechangeinlighting.UnlikemostDutch,Lukashadallhisdrapesclosed,probablybecauseofhisphotographyequipment.
Heclosedthedoorbehindhimandtheshadowswrappedaroundus.Couscouswasawarmsilkyweightinmyarms,hersteadypurracomfort.Iexhaled.HereIwaswithLukas,whohadknownandlovedmebeforeIbecamesomebodyandbeforeIlostitalltoo.Beingwithhimwasasnaturalasbreathing.Mycousin,myfriend.
Lukasleanedagainstthewall.Hestillhadnotswitchedonthelights,andhecarefullyasked,“HowgoesitwithJim?”
“Fine,heisjustdivinginbedwithsomeoneelse.”Mymouthdroppedopen.Howhadthatpoppedout?
Inthehalf-lightfromthecurtainedwindow,Lukas’seyeswidenedbutheshowednootherreaction.Yes,hehadalwaysbeenlikethis.Hewasthecalmitself.“Isheenjoyinghimself?”
“Seemedlikeittome.”Thenwebothchuckled,eventhoughmythroatburned.
Hecameoverandtouchedmegentlyonthearm.“Serious,goesitallright?”
CouscousstartedtowriggleandIsetherdown.Ishrugged.Myheartwasthrobbingasifithadbeenpunched.“YouarethefirstpersonIhavetold.”
“Sometimesitiseasiertoconfideinastranger.”
Nowmyvoicebroke.“Youarenostranger.”And,despitemyself,afewtearsescapedmyeyes.
LukastookmeinhisarmsthenandIrestedmyheadagainsthischest.HesmelledofbasilandginsengandIfeltthewordshisbodysaidtomine:Youaresafehere.Everythingwillbeallright.Hewhispered,“Whydidyounotcomebacktovisit?”
Isniffedandpulledaway.Icockedmyheadtowardthemainhouse.“Iwasnotwelcome.”
Hedidn’tmeetmyeyes,staredatthefloor.“I—IwishIhadsomeplaceelseyoucouldhavecomebackto.”
Foramoment,Iwasconfused.ThenIunderstood.“No.Youdidnotchooseaneasypathanditmadesenseforyoutostaywithyourparents.Jim’sparentsgaveusourapartmenttoo,soitisnotsodifferent.”
“Iusedtodaydreamaboutgoingtoseeyou.Ithinkthatiswhatfirstmademewanttotravel,”hesaidinalowvoice.“ButbythetimeIwasoldenough,youwerewithJim.IfeltlikeIwouldbeintrudingonyourlife.”
“Thatisridiculous.”Ishookmyhead,sheddingtheintimate,seriousmood.“Comeon,turnonthelightsandshowmearound.”
Whenheflickedonthetracklighting,Iwasdelightedtofindtheroomarrangedlikeatheaterormovieset.Therewerenoboringcouchesoroppressivesideboards.Longrolled-upbackdropsleanedagainstthewallsbehindstacksofphotographyequipment.Linesoflightshungaboveus,angledinalldirectionslikebirdsperchedonawire,coveredwithfiltersinyellow,blue,green.Ipickedupasmallumbrella,openedit,andtwirledlikeagirlinablack-and-whitemovie.“Ilovethis.”
Isteppedovertoarackbythewallthatwasstuffedwithsilkscarves,Balinesesarongs,Indiansaris,flapperdresses,andtuxedojackets.Iarchedaneyebrowathim.“Cross-dressmuch?”
Helaughed.“Allforphotoshoots.Ihavetowork,youknow.Hewhositsonhisbuttmustalsositonhisblisters.”Heledmetotheback,whereawallhadbeenerectednexttothestaircase,separatingthelastpartofthegaragespace.
“Ibuiltthismyself.”Ashestoodbythedoorway,Inoticedthatthetwodoorsattachedtoeithersideofthewallhadtwoseparatesetsofhinges.Iswungoneoutwardandtheotherinward.WeenteredandLukasdrewbackathickblackcurtainthatranacrossthelengthoftheroom,separatingusfromtheinside.
Imadeanappreciativenoiseinmythroat.“Adarkroom.Iassumethesecondsetofdoorsandcurtainsaresonoonecanwalkinsideandaccidentallyexposeyourfilmtothelight.Butwhowouldcomeinhereanyway?”
“Myparents,thecleaninglady.You.”Hetossedakeychainatme.Icaughtitonreflex—thekeystothemainhouseandtohisplace.“Myspareset.”
“Iwouldnotwanttodisturbyourprivacy.”
Herolledhiseyes.“Right.Whowasitwhoneverknockedwhenshecametomyroom?Whowouldnotevenletmegotothetoiletwithoutchattingawayaboutsomething?”Hemimickedinahighfalsetto,“‘Peelater!Thisisimportant!’”
Ipunchedhiminthearm.“Ineverdidthat.Iamaveryrespectfulperson.”
Lukasflickedontheredlightbulbattachedtotheceiling.Itturnedhimintoalongrubysculpture.TheglowremindedmeoftheredlightdistrictinAmsterdam,wherethelingerie-cladprostitutesstoodlitupinwindows.Suddenly,IwasawarethattheboyIhadknownhadturnedintoamanandwewerealone.Icoughed,mortifiedbymythoughts.Forgoodness’sake,hewasmycousin.Icouldbarelygetoutthewords.“Could—couldyoupleaseturnontheregularlight?”
Heturnedonthemainlightingandthenfannedhisface.“Sorry,itstinksanhourinthewindhere,heh?”Eventhoughthewindowlessroomwasspotless,itstillsmelledofthestrangeandexoticchemicalsstoredinsidethecanistersandjugsthatlinedtheshelves.
Irecoveredquicklyandmovedawayfromhim.“No,Isenseinventionandpossibility.”Howtochangethesubject?Igesturedtowardhislongworkbenchandthethreedeepsinks.“Ididnotthinkanyonediddarkroomworkanymore.Isitnotalldigitalthesedays?”
Nowaglowlituphiseyes.Heranhishandthroughhisrumpledhair.“Iaminlovewithimperfection.SomeofmymistakeswindupbeingthemostinterestingworkIhaveeverdone.Comeupstairs,Iwillshowyou.”
Weenteredhislivingroomandkitchen,whichonlyconsistedofacombinationoven/microwave,aminifridge,andastovetop.Alowcoffeetablethathadlostonelegwasproppedupbythickartandphotographybooks—Basquiat,DorotheaLange,Mondrian,JerryUelsmann,Vermeer.Therewasadoorattheotherendoftheroom.Iassumeditledtohisbedroomandbathroom.EverythingwasasneatasLukas’sroomusedtobe.IwastheonewhohadalwaysrebelledagainstHelenabylivingasmessilyaspossible.
Isnickered.“Itissobarehere,ablindhorsecoulddonodamage.”
Lukasbarkedoutalaugh.“Idonothavetimetocollectthingies.”
Iscannedhisapartmentagain.“Itfeelsmorelikeatrainstationthanahome.Likeastoppingpointbeforeyouarriveatyourdestination.”
Hesatcross-leggedonthefloor,pulledoutathickblackportfolio,andstartedflippingthroughthephotos.Theyweremostlyinblackandwhite.Iploppeddownbesidehim,lookedoverhisshoulder,andstoppedhimatapage:thehandsofaworkingman,crustedwithdirt,callused,cradlingatulipbulb.“Ilovethisone.”
Hegrimaced,rueful.“Theclientrejectedit.”Hetappedonthesheetbesideit,whichheldacolorphotoofthefarmer,cleanedandshaven,completewithafakesmile.“Thisiswhattheyboughtintheend.IkeepthisheretoremindmyselfnottogettoocarriedawaywhenIambeingpaidbytheclient.Iamaphotojournalist.Ishoulddocument,notdominate.”
Wepagedthroughthewarm-tonedphotos.Theywerealmostthree-dimensionalwiththedepthofthedevelopinghehaddoneonthem.IfeltIcouldreachinandtouchtheimages:abatthesizeofasmalldoghangingupsidedownwithgleamingredeyes,aflamingopoisedatsunrise,achildinragspeddlingricewrappedinleaves—andthenhismorecommercialwork:poutingmodels,tropicalflowersandlandscapes,alllush,colorful,filledwithbrilliance.
“Idonotknow,Lukas,”Isaid.“You,thecamera,thesubject.Theyallbecomeoneinthephoto.Maybeyouneedmoreofyourselfinyourwork,notless.”
Nowhisvoiceroughened,becamemoreintimate.“Iamfascinatedbythewaytheprocessinfluencestheresult,thewaysIcanmanipulatetheimages.Agrainofdirt,aflashoflight—Iamcrazyaboutthephysicalityoffilm.Wearetangiblebeings.Irevelinthat.”
Onsome,hehadcoloredinthenegativesorclippedoutalittlegirlandtransferredhersothatherghostlyimagefloatedaboveherfatherwhohadjusttossedherintheair.Fromthegirl’sangle,Icouldnottellifthemanwaspoisedtocatchherinhisarmsagainorifhehadlaunchedherintothegreatworld.TherewereevenafewshotsofLukasfromhistriptoSouthAmericalastyear.Hestoodknee-deepinwater,wearingtallrubberboots,histeethwhiteinthemidstofhisunshavenface,holdingalinewithafishwithlargeteethdanglingfromtheend.
Ileanedclosertotheimage.“Isthatapiranha?”
“Ourdinnerthatnight.Theriverwasfilledwiththem.”
“Betyouweregladforyourboots.Whotookthepicturesofyou?”Isaid,turningtoanotherphotoofhim.Lukassmilingintothecamera,ablackspidermonkeywithonearmwoundaroundhisneckwhilelickingitsownfingers.
“Myguidewantedtotryoutmycamera.Ibelievethemonkeyhadfoundafleainmyhairandwasveryhappyabouteatingit.”
Therewasanoldwomansittinginaramshacklehut,herleatheryskinilluminatedbytheweakflamesinthetincanbeforeher.Asheetfilledwithholeshungnexttoherandkeptoutthenight,bothserenityandstruggleplainonherface.ThenafadedPolaroidofmefellout.Itookonelookatmyhomelyeight-year-oldselfandflippeditover.SomethingsIdidnotwishtoremember.
“Whatisthisdoinghere?”
“ItwasthefirstgoodportraitIevertook.”
“YouwerealwayssneakingaroundwiththatPolaroidcamera.Didyounotgetitforyourbirthday?”Ihadnotbeenallowedtotouchit.EventhoughLukasdidnotmind,IhadunderstoodthedifferencebetweenLukasandmethen,betweenbloodandchildcompanion.Filmwasexpensive.Ihadnevertakenasinglephotowithit.
Henodded.“Doyourememberhowtheteachermadeussingthatsongformybirthday?”
“Itwashorrible.”Istillrememberedthelyrics,sungtothetuneof“HappyBirthdaytoYou.”
HankypankyShanghaiHankypankyShanghaiHankypankyHankypankyHankypankyShanghai
HowtheDutchpeoplelovedthissong.Theywouldstretchtheireyesintolongslitsandmovethembackandforthastheysang.Tomakethingsworse:thatteacherhadbeenourfavorite,afriendlywomanwithlongredhairwhofedusteaandcaramelwaffleswhenwebehaved.Inthatmoment,thegulfseparatingLukasandme,theonlynonwhitechildreninthegroup,fromtherestoftheclassgrewintoanabyss.Thatspacehadalwaysexisted,Irealizedthen,Ihadjustnotbeenawareofit.Lukashadscrunchedhisfaceintoascowlandlookedatme.Ihadpressedmylipstogether,unsurewhatwecoulddotostopthem.
“Donotbeshy,”theteachersaidwithhercustomarycheer.“Comeup,singalong!”
Atoursilence,shetookusbothbythearmandledus,humiliated,tothefrontoftheroom.“Okay,everyonetogether.Again.”
Thechildrenobeyed.LukasandIlookedoutovertheclassroom,surroundedbyanoceanofsingingpaleheads.
“Youtoo,”shesaid,noddingatus.Sheclappedherhandsinencouragement.
Lukaswrappedhisarmsaroundhisskinnyframeandglowered.Iburstintotears.
“Oh,sweetie,”theteachersaid.Shefeltmyforehead.“Sitdown,then.Youmustnotbefeelingwell.”AsLukasandIslumpedinourchairs,Iheardhersaytothestudentteacherwithashrug,“Ithoughttheywouldenjoyit,somethingfunfromtheirculture.”
Now,Lukassaid,“Theystillsingthatsongatchildren’sbirthdayparties,youknow,tothisveryday.Butafewyearsafteryouleft,Iwenttothedirectorandtoldherhowracistitwasandtheyneversangitatschoolagain.”
“Youhavechanged,Lukas.”Hehadoncebeenaquietchild,likeme,andnowhewasthis.
“Yesandno.ButIlearnedthatifyoudonotspeak,noonewilleverhearyou.”
Atthatmoment,mystomachrumbledsoloudlywebothjumped.Hidingasmile,Lukassaid,“Okay,enoughofthis.Shallwegogetyousomethingtoeat?Youliedabouttheairplanefood.”Hestoodandheldouthishandtome.
Ilethimdragmetomyfeet.“Howdidyouknow?”Istretchedandgroaned.Ithadbeenalongday.
Hewasalreadyheadedforthedoorwayandsaidoverhisshoulder,“Youpaidfortheticket,right?Youwouldneverpurchasefirstclassforyourself.Whenwewerelittle,Ialwaysateallofmycandyinfiveminutes,butyouwouldstillbemunchingawaymanydayslater.Despiteyourexpensiveclothing,youarefrugal.”
Iusedmyhaughtyvoice.“Oh?Youareafashionexpertnow?”
Hescratchedhishead.“Umm,no.ButIsawyourbaginamagazineIworkedfor.Andyourclothesseemvery—”Hewasboundingdownthestairsinfrontofme;hisbroadbackbarelyfitinthenarrowstairwell.Heflutteredhisarmsintheair.“Fancy.Butyoubuythemasasoldiercollectsweapons.Intheend,youarepractical.Youwouldseeflyingfirstclassaswastingmoneyonyourself.”
Iflushedasredasabeet,happyhisbackwastomeandhecouldnotseeit.Hehaditright.Indeed,Iusedthosedesignerlabelsasarmor,tocommunicatemystatustomyclientsandcolleagues,nothingmore.Ineverindulgedinextravagancesjustformyself.
Hecontinued,“Comeon.WecangotothesnackbarandstopbyEstelle’s.Shewouldlovetoseeyou.Maybeshehasanoldbicycleshecanlendyou.”
Wewentoutsideandhewheeledablackbikeoutfromunderneaththecarport.Agentlebreezetousledhishair.
Iwhistled.“Nowyouareridingalady’sbike?”
“Youareoutoftouch,Sylvie.Itishipforguystobeongrandmabikesnowadays.Iamjustbeingamodernman,althoughEstelletellsmeIneedtoworkonbecomingmoremetrosexual.”
Iburstintoalaughasheclimbedontohisbicycleandwaitedformetohopontothebaggagerackbehindhim.Itwasjustlikeoldtimes.ThemetalwasbumpierthanIrememberedbutIheldon,andasweswungoff,Lukaspedalinghard,IleanedmyshoulderagainsthisstrongbackandbreathedintheclearDutchair.
Chapter11
Amy
Friday,May6
Whenmyalarmclockringsthenextmorning,Iamcompletelydisoriented.Lastnight,sleepfelluponmelikeaconcreteblanket.Mybodyknowsitisactuallythemiddleofthenightbackhomeandfightsmyattemptstowakeup;theweightofmylimbsbindsmetothecoma-likedarkness.Istruggleandcrackopenmyeyes.IttakesamomenttorealizeI’mnotinmyownbed,orevenmyowncountry.Thisisn’tanightmare.Sylvie’smissing.Igrabmyphone.Stillnoword.Iclosemyeyesandclutchmycelltomychest.Howcanthisbereal?
Ihaven’tseenHelenaandWillemsincetheyleftforworkyesterday.Iunderstandtheyaregenerallyhomeinthemorningsandgoneuntillateinthenight,returningaftertheirrestauranthasclosed.TheyworkthroughtheweekendsandtheirfreedaysareMondayandTuesday.Fordinners,Iwastoldtohelpmyselftotherestaurantfoodtheybringhomeeveryday.Theirenormousfridgeispackedwithspicybeefinblackbeansauce,grilledshrimp,andporkskewersinhotpeanutsauce.Normally,Iwouldhavebeenbesidemyself.Ilovetocookandtoeat.
Yesterday,weallsataroundthetableforlunch.TheyservedanIndonesianrijsttafel,composedoffriedriceandIndonesianyellowriceandfortysmallerdishes:hard-boiledeggsinchilisauce,chickencoconutcurry,duckroastedinbananaleaves,aromaticcaramelizedbeefinspicycoconutmilk,andmore.AlthoughIdidn’thavemuchofanappetite,itwasoneofthebestmealsI’devertasted.Maybelater,afterSylviewassafelyhome,Iwouldaskthemfortherecipes.WhenItoldHelenaI’dneverhadIndonesianfoodbefore,shesaid,“WeneedtoserveeverytypeofAsiancuisinehere.TheDutchcannottellusapart,sowhentheycometoaChineserestaurant,theyexpectIndonesianandJapanesefoodtoo.”Ispenttheafternoonunpackingandthenattemptedtomakeupformyrestlessnightontheairplanebygoingtobedearly.
Icheckthetime.It’salmostnineinthemorningandthepolicefamilyliaisonofficersaresupposedtoarriveatten.There’sabathroomattachedtomyroom,sosmallIcanbarelysqueezebetweenthetoiletandthesinktobrushmyteeth.Aradiatorintheshapeofatowelrackhangsbesidethetinyshower,drapedneatlywithtwowhitetowels.BeforeIstepintotheshower,IrealizeI’veforgottentopackshowergel.There’sahugegreenbottlelabeledDOUCHEGELbutI’mafraidofitforobviousreasons.Igrabtheantibiotichandsoapfromthesinkinstead.Iclosemyeyesandwashoffthestinkoftheairplane,whichhassomehowclungtomeallthesehours.Thedisorientingfeelingofjetlagremains,asifmybrainhasbeenpackedinwool.
Idryoffwithawarmtowelandpullonjeans,aplainlong-sleevedblackshirt,andmyglassesandheaddownstairs.Ihangontotherailingtoensuremyfeetdon’tslipofftheshallowsteps.
Couscous,thestripycatImetlastnight,isrubbingherselfagainstHelena’slegs.Helenaisdressedforworkinafluffyblackoutfitbutsheisn’twearinganyshoes.Asshefriessomefreshfishinthewok(forbreakfast?),shescoldsCouscousinChineseforbeingtoogreedy.Lukasissittingatthediningroomtable,drinkingwhatsmellslikecoffeefromatraditionalMunShouChinesemug,thetypewheretheceramiclookslikeit’sbeenembroideredwithbluelotusflowers.Behindhim,themorninglight,clearandmerciless,streamsinthroughthewindowsofthelargedoubledoors,illuminatinghisunshavenfaceandshadowedeyes.Icanseethebackgarden,thelawnpiercedbysharpwhitestones.
Helenablowsonthefishfillettocoolit,thencutsitintolittlepieces.Shearrangesthemonaplate,firstfeelingthemtomakesuretherearen’tanybones,andsetsthedishonthefloor.SothefishisforCouscous.
“Sheisgettingfat,Ma,”Lukassays.“Youshouldstopspoilingher.”
“Howcanyousaythataboutalady?”saysHelena,indignant.Shebendstostrokethecat,nowgobblingthefish.“Shejusthasbigfur.”
IjumpasWillemcomesupbehindme,passingmeonhiswaytothekitchencounter.Doesheneedtocomesoclose?
“Goodmorning,Amy.Wouldyoulikesometeaorcoffee?”heasks.
“T-tea,please.”IsitatthetableacrossfromLukas.There’saloafofbread,boxesofwhatappeartobecupcakesprinkles,butternotinsticksbutshapedintoablock,alargewedgeofuncutcheese,andvariousjamsandothercondiments.Nocereal.Notoast.Nooatmeal.
Willemsetsmymugofteabeforeme.“Sugar?”
“Yes,withmilk,please.”InoticeWillemraiseshiseyebrowswhenIsaythis,thoughhegetsthecartonoutoftherefrigeratorforme.“Don’tp-peopledrinkteawithmilkhere?”
“Umm,no.Onlyverysmallchildren.”Willemgesturesatthesprinkles.“Asyoucanseefromthethingsonthetable,wepracticebeingDutchinthemornings.Wouldyouliketotrysomehagelslag?Sylvieusedtoloveit.Youbutteryourbreadandshakeiton.Wehavefreshtijgerbroodfromthebakery—thatisthebreadoverthere.”
Irelaxabit.Finally,acommentaboutSylviethatisn’tlacedwithaggression
Willempassestheloaftome.It’slightbrown,withacrisppuffytop,andsmellsdelicious.Heasks,“Howisyourmotherdoing?”
“She’sfine,workinghardasalways.”Itrythehagelslagandbutterlikehesuggestedonacornerofmyuntoastedslice.Thesprinklesarebrightorangeandyellowandtasteexactlyastheylook—likesugaronbread.Irecognizeajarofpeanutbutterwithrelief.AfterI’vespreaditovertherest,Ispoonsomestrawberryjellyontop,thenrealizethey’reallstaringatme.
“Youeatpeanutbutterandjellytogether?”Lukasasks.
Withmymouthfull,Inod.
Hescrunchesuphisfaceandtapsthemiddleofhisforeheadafewtimeswithhisindexfinger.“Crazy.”
ItrynottobefreakedoutbytheDutchhandgestures.“Howdoyoueatpeanutbutter?”
“Plain.Sometimeswithbutterandcheese.”
Right.Iturntomymeal.WillemplacesthebasketfilledwithbitsoffoldedpaperIsawearlieronthediningroomtablebesidethehalf-finishedpaper-formedbeast.Hesipshiscoffeeasheinsertsnewpiecesintothecreaturewithcarefulandprecisehands.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask.
“Modularorigami,”heanswerswithasmile.“Ibeganwithregularorigamiandmovedontothe3-Dversion.”
“Isthatasnake?”
Heshakeshishead.“AChinesedragon.”
Willem’shobby,theflavorfulbread,thecheerfuldomesticityofHelenacooingoverthecatinthekitchen:itmakesmemissmyownfamily.IfonlyMaandPawerehere.IfonlySylviewerehere.ItallrushesupintomythroatandIworryI’llchokeonmyfear.“I’msoscaredaboutSylvie.”
Helenapauses,herhandsuspendedoverCouscous’sfur.Thewarmthdrainsfromherface.“Youdonotneedtoworryaboutthatone.Shealwayslandsonherfeet.”
Ibristleatthebitternessofhertone.“I-IknowSylvie’sgoodateverything,butnoone’sheardfromherinaweek.Theremustbeanexplanation.”Icanhearthedesperationgratemyvoiceraw.“Ihopeshehasenoughmoneytosurvive.”
Lukas’shandclenchessotightlyaroundhiscoffeemugthathisknucklesturnwhite.“Sheisfine.”
Istareathim.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hestaresintothebackgarden,avoidingmyeyes.“Sheisjusttakingsometimeforherself.”Hisvoicecracksandhelooksfuriousathimselfforit.
“Shehasenoughmeans,Iamcertain.”Helena’stonecontainsmoreaccusationthanreassurance.Shedoesn’taddanythingelse.
Inthesilencethatfollows,thedoorbellrings.Thepolicearehere.
Anenormousmanentersthehouse,stoopingtoavoidthelow-hanginglampinthehallway.Hemustbeatleastsixfootfive,withprotrudingredearsandasquashed,intelligentfacelikeaFrenchbulldog’s.Hisheadisshavedbaldbutjudgingfromthegrayhairsinhisscragglyeyebrowsandthelinesaroundhiseyes,he’sinhisearlyfifties.He’saccompaniedbyayoungerwoman,perhapslatetwenties.Herdarkblondhairispulledbackintoaponytailandshehasafirm,determinedmouth.Theyarebothdressedinregularclothingratherthanpoliceuniforms.
Theyshakehandswitheveryone,includingme.Thankgoodness,nothreekissesforthem.Helenaslipsonherpumpsaswemoveintothelivingroom.Willempourseveryoneacoffeeortea.Lukaspullsupachairfromthediningroomtableandsits.IfindmyselfwedgedonthecouchbetweenWillemandHelena.
Thepoliceman’skneesseemtocomeuptohisearswhenhesitsinthestern-lookingarmchair.AtorrentofDutchpoursfromhismouth.
Willemrespondsinkind,gesturingatme.
“Oh,Iamsorry,”themansayswithathickaccent.“YouspeakEnglishonly?”Atmynod,hesays,“MynameisPimdeJong.Thisismycolleague,DaniqueSmits.YouareAmyLee,thesisterofthe…”
Ashesearchesforaword,Daniqueleansforwardinherarmchair.Shesmilesandmanagestolookbothcompetentandwarm,andherEnglishismuchbetterthanhis.“Themissingperson.YouarefromtheUnitedStates?AndSylvieLee,sheisalsoAmerican?”
Isay,“Yes,”atthesametimeLukassays,“No,sheisDutch.”
ThenHelenasmilesandsays,“SheisChinese,”asifthatsettlesthematter.
Willemsays,“SylviehasdualDutchAmericannationality.”
Pimwritesthisdowninhisnotepad.HejerkshisheadslightlyathiscolleagueandIseetheyhavedecidedthatshewilldothetalkingashetakesnotes.
Daniquesays,“Wealreadyhavethebasicinformationyougaveusoverthetelephoneandnowwecanofficiallybegin.”
Isay,“Wh-what?Youareo-onlystartingnow?Why?”
“Sheisanadult,withagoodmentalandphysicalstate.Thereisnothingtoshowshemaybeindangerordangeroustootherpeople.Thereisnosignalofacrime.”
“Sylviewouldneverjustdisappearlikethis.”
“Mostmissingpersonsreturnbythemselvesandthepolicehavelimitedresources.Forachildoranolderperson,wetakeimmediateaction.Forahealthyadult,wewait.Butwewilldoourbesttofindyoursister,Ipromiseyouthis.Doyouhavearecentpictureofher?”
Iwanttosmackmyself.Whyhadn’tIthoughttobringonewithme?MyeyesflitoverthemanyimagesofLukasinthelivingroom.Obviouslynoonehereevercaredenoughtophotographher.ButLukaspullsalargeenvelopefromafolderhe’sstashedbeneathhischair.HepassesittoDanique.
“Wheredidyougetthat?”Iask.
“Itookitmyself.”
Ofcourse,I’dforgottenhe’saprofessionalphotographer.Daniqueopenstheenvelope,slidesoutaneight-by-ten,andholdsitupsoweallcansee.Sheraiseshereyebrows.“Isthisagoodlikenessofher?”
ItisastunningportraitofSylvie.She’sslightlyturnedawayfromthecamera,theanglesofherhighcheekbonesandstraightnosehighlightedbythegoldensunlightthatglidesoverherskinandgathersinherglossyhair,hereyessosadbeneaththewingedeyebrows.Helena’slipsarepressedfirmlytogether,simmering,andWillemstaresatthephotowithsomuchopenlongingIamembarrassed
Daniquetakesoursilenceforacquiescence.“Howwouldyoudescribehercharacter?”
“Secretive,”Helenasays.
Iwanttokickher.ButthenIthinkaboutallthethingsIdidn’tknow,andstilldon’t,aboutmysister.“P-private.Loyal.Brilliant.”
Danique’ssharpeyesaretrainedonHelena.“Whydoyousay‘secretive’?”
Helenashrugs,anabrupt,aggressivemovement.“Shekeepsherthoughtstoherself.”
“Wouldyousaysheisintrovertedoraloner?”
“Sheneverfitsin,”Helenaanswers.
“Wedonoteither,”saysLukas,glaringathismother.I’mhappyI’mnottheonlyonewhodoesn’tlikehearingthesenegativethingsaboutSylvie.Thiswarmsmetohim.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Daniqueasks.
Lukasshiftsonhischair.“ItisnotalwayseasybeingoneofthefewChinesefamilieshere.”
Pim’smouthfallsopen,andifhestillhadhair,I’msurehiseyebrowswouldhavedisappeared.“Butthereisnoracisminthisvillage.”
Lukascockshishead,hiseyesburning.“Really?Well,youareawhitemanandapoliceagent,sopeoplearenotlikelytotreatyouinadifferentway,arethey?”
“Thisisallbesidethepoint,”saysWillem.“ThemostimportantthingnowistofindSylvie.”
Daniqueturnstome.“Wouldyouagreethatsheisanoutsider,Amy?”
“Well,”Isayslowly,“Sylviehasalwaysbeenspecial,sobydefinition,sheisdifferentfromnormalpeople.”
“Iunderstandshewasherebecausehergrandmotherwasdying.Didsheseemdepressedafterhergrandmapassedon?”
Helenasnorted.“ShewasoffhavingagrandtimecelebratingherbirthdayinVenicewhenhergrandmadied.”
“Wh-what?!”Iprotest.“Sylviewouldn’tdothat.ShelovedGrandmadeeply.Shecameallthewayheretobewithher.”Venice!WhyintheworldwouldSylviegotoVenice?Hadshegonealone?Butindeed,Sylviehadn’tcalledmeonherbirthday.She’dtextedmethatshehadtoomuchgoingonwiththefamilyandthatwiththetimedifference,itwastoohardtotalk.Mygazedartsaroundtheroom.Lukashasavertedhiseyesandhisneckhasreddened.
Helenapressesherlipstogether,asifshe’sholdingthewordsinsidebybruteforcealone.
“DidSylvieevertalkabouthurtingherself?”Daniqueasks.
“Sylvied-didnotcommitsuicide,”Isay.
“Whensomebodydisappearsanddoesnotreturnwithinthreedays,thereareusuallyonlyfourmainpossibilities:suicide,murder,kidnapping,orflight.”
Igaspatherplainwords.Pimshootsheralook,andsays,“Wedonotknowthereasonsyet.”
Lookingmildlychagrined,Daniquecontinuesherquestions.“Shehasmanyimpressivediplomas,isthatcorrect?Andaverygoodjob?Sometimes,apersonwhoisverysuccessful,iftheyloseface,canbecomedepressed.Theycandosomethingaboutitortheycanflee.Perhapsitcanbeissuesintheirrelationship.Werethereanychangesinhercircumstancesrecently?”
Idon’twanttorevealSylvie’stroublesinfrontofHelena,butIwantthepolicetobeabletohelphertoo.BeforeIcandecidewhattosay,Lukasspeaksup.“Shewashavingproblemswithhermarriage.Herhusbandwasstalkingher.Heevenshoweduphere.Theyhadafight.”
Idropmyteacupontothesaucerwithaloudclank.HotteasplashesinmylapbutIdon’tfeelit.“JimwasintheNetherlands?”DidSylviegotoVenicewithhimafterall?Helenatsksandrubsatmyjeanswithanapkin.Itakeitawayfromher.“I’mfine,thanks.”
“Aboutaweekbeforeshedisappeared.ShethoughthehadgonebacktotheUnitedStates.Butnooneknowsforsure.”
“IsawJimonMonday,beforeIflewhere,”Isay.“Hedidactabitstrangely.Whatdidtheyfightabout?”
LukasdrawshiseyebrowstogetherandslamshisfistintohispalmasifhewisheditwereJim’sface.“Ionlyoverheardthelastpartoftheconversation.Heaskedhernottodestroyhislifeandshesaidshehadnochoice.HehadgrabbedherandwasthreateningherwhenIwalkedin.”
Ican’timagineeasygoing,patricianJimdoingsuchathing.Destroyhislife?ThreateningSylvie?Thiswascrazy.WhatcouldJimhavetohide?Ordidhemeanthedivorce?WeretherepartsofJimthatIneversuspectedexisted?Ifawomandisappears,thehusbandorloverisofteninvolved.ButJim?OrisLukasnottellingthetruth?
“SoitispossiblehelefttheNetherlandsonlyafterSylviedisappeared,”Daniquesays.TheyaskmeforJim’scontactinformation.IamstillsostunnedbytherevelationsthatWillemhastonudgemetoanswer.ThenDaniquesays,“Amy,whatwasSylvie’slifelikebackhome?Wouldyousayshewashappy?”
Aweekago,Iwouldhavesaidyeswithcompleteconfidence.Now,Ihesitatebeforesaying,“Idon’tknow.”
“Wouldshehaveanyreasontorunaway?”
Afteramoment,Helenaanswersforme.“Ithinkanythingispossible.Afterall,ourownhousewasbrokenintojustafewweeksago.”
Pimcheckshisprintednotes.“Yes,thereisarecord.Nothingwastaken.”
Helenalaughsshrilly.“Myinheritancewasstolen.Afortuneingoldandjewels.”
DaniquestepsovertoPimandtheybothscanthepapers.Pimclearshisthroat.“Thatwastheclaimbuttherewasnoproof.”
“ItbelongedtoGrandma,”Helenasaid.“Sheneverworeanyofitandwedidnotthinktotakephotos.Shewasverysecretive.Didnotshowittoanyone,ortelluswhereitwashidden.”
Daniqueaskscarefully,“Areyoucertainitexisted?”
“Absolutely,”saysHelena,thecolorrisinginherface.Hereyesaretwoblackfurnaces.“Thattreasurewasalegendinourfamily.Isawitmyself,manyyearsago.”
“BacktoSylvie,”Willemsaysgently.“Thathasnothingtodowithherdisappearance.”
“Ofcoursenot,”saysHelena,buthertonebeliesherwords.
“Can’tyousetdogsonherscentorsomething?”Iask,knowingIsoundlikeaclichéfromatelevisionseries.Theyaretheprofessionalshere.Aren’ttheygoingtotakeaction?
“Shedisappearedwithherrentalcar,”saysDanique.“Thedogswillnotbeabletotrackanything.Thereisnoscenttrailandthecarhasnotbeenfound.”
“Maybeshewasinanaccident.”Igetupandmovebehindthecouch.Ican’tstandbeingstuckonthesofa.“Somewherenoonecanfindher—inthewoodsormountains.Maybeshe’swoundedrightnow.”Mybreathcomesquickly.Sylviewithabrokenleg,dyingofthirst,lyingnexttohercar.
“ThereisnogreatwildernessintheNetherlands,”Daniquesays.“Weareaverycivilizedcountry.Itisdifficulttoleavenotrace.Thehealthypeoplewhodisappearusuallydonotwishtobefound.”
Willemasks,“Haveyoubeenfollowingherbankaccountsandmobiletelephone?”
Daniquelooksuncomfortable.“Wearenotpermittedtoaccessthatinformationduetoprivacylawsunlesswehavereasontosuspectcriminalactivity.”
“Butit’scompletelyoutofcharacterf-forSylvienottotellanyonewheresheis.I’mafraidsomethinghappenedtoher.”Iwringmyhands.HowcanweallbesittingarounddrinkingteawhenSylviemightneedus?
“Iamsorry,butweneedspecialpermissionfromthepublicprosecutortogetintoherrecords.”
Pimspeaksup,hislowvoiceconfident.“Youwillnotgetit.Forthiscase,Iamsure.Ihavemanyyearsexperience.”
Daniqueasks,“Didsheleaveanoteorsomethingelse?”
Lukassquirmsinhisseatbutagainwearesilent.Finally,thepoliceliaisonofficersstandtoleave,aftermorepromisestodotheirbestforus.
Afterthefrontdoorclosesbehindthem,Isay,“I’mnotsurethey’regoingtobeveryeffective.”
Willemrubstheskinbehindhisear.“Tobefair,theydonothavethelegalrighttodomuchinthissituation.”
Lukasisstaringoutthewindow,asifheexpectsSylvietomaterializeinthefrontgarden.“Sheisanadultandmaybeshejustwantedtothinkthingsover.”
Isay,enunciatingeachwordcarefully,“Sylviewouldletusknow.Shewouldn’tworryuslikethis.”ThenItakeadeepbreathandcrumpleintoachair.I’dhadsuchhopesforthepolice.Whatelseisthere?“I’msorryImadethemspeakEnglish.Pimistheolderofficer.YoumighthavegottenmoreoutofthemifIhadn’tbeenhere.”
Helenastandsandstartsclearingthecups.“Itwouldnothavemadeadifference.ButenoughofSylvieatthismoment.Nothingwaseverenoughforher.Evennow,shehasgonesomewhereandallwecandoistalkabouther.Sylvie,Sylvie,Sylvie.”
Idrawinasharpbreath.Iwanttostalkoverandslapher.Howdareshe?FromthewayLukas’sheadwhipsaround,Iknowhefeelsthesame.“Howcanyousaythat?Don’tyoucare?”
“OfcourseIdo.ButIamsuresheisfine.”
Despitemyanger,hoperisesinsidemychestcavitylikeabubble.“Whatdoyouthinkhappenedtoher?”
Helenagivesashortlaugh,devoidofhumor.“Ihavenoidea.”Thereisrageandanoldpaininhereyes.ShestepsoutofthelivingroomandIhearherheelsclicktheirwayupstairs.Thiswoman,whoseemstohatemysistersomuch,wastheonewhoraisedher?DoessheknowsomethingaboutSylviethatIdon’t?
DutchLocalNewspaper
NOORDNEDERLANDSDAGBLADFriday,15AprilYesterdayonThursday,14April,inbetween13.15and14.00,ahouseonthePrinsBernhardstraatwasbrokeninto.Itisluckythattherewasnodamageandnothingwasstolen.Thepolicebelievethein-breakerwassurprisedbythereturnoftheelderlyinhabitant,whowastakingawalk,andthusthethiefcouldtakenothing.Alas,noteveryburglarywalksoffsogood.PleaseremembertosetyourdoorsandwindowstolockedandtoringBurgernetifyouseeanysignofstrangeincidents.Ifanyonehasanyotherinformationaboutthisbreak-inandattemptatthievery,pleasecontactthelocalpolice.Part3
Chapter12
Ma
Friday,May6
PaandIsilentlyrevolvedaroundtheabsenceofourtwogirls,circlingthiscoreofemptinessuntilwecollapsedinward.Neitherofuswantedtogivevoicetoourdarkthoughts.
MypoorAmysoundedsodistraughtwhenshespoketomefromHolland.ItwasevenharderthanusualtounderstandherEnglishoverthephoneandIhadtodomybesttokeepupwiththeconversation.
Iaskedher,“HowareHelenaandherhusband?”
“They’reabitstrange,Ma.Helenaiskindtome,butsometimes,I’mnotsurehowshefeelsaboutSylvie.AndIcan’tfigureoutWillem.”
“Whynot?”
“Heseemstobewatchingmealot,whenhethinksI’mnotlooking.”
Icaughtmybreath.ThenIgavealittlelaugh.“Oh,allgirlsthinkhewasveryhandsomebackinthevillage.”
“That’snotexactlywhatImeant.”Amyloweredhervoice.“Ma,doyouknowanythingaboutatreasure?”
Isaidinmycareful,uselessEnglish,solongtrainednottospeakofit,“Whatyoumean?”
“CousinHelenawasgoingonaboutsomeincrediblyvaluablejewelrythatshethinksGrandmahad.Therewasaburglaryandthenitdisappeared.HelenaseemstothinkithassomethingtodowithSylvie.”
ThatHelenadaredaccusemydaughterofsuchashamefulthing.ButifSylviehadtakenthejewelry—notstolen,becausemymawouldhavemeanttogiveittoher—thenitmightmeanshewasstillallright.Rageandhopewarredinsideme.PerhapsSylviewaswaitingforthecalmtocomeandthenshewouldreappear,asthegoddessKuanYinmanifestedherselfonthesurfaceofamuddylake,thebeautyofalotusthatbloomedabovethemuck.
“Therewassomething,”Isaid.“Butithasbeenmanyyearssinceanyonehasseenit.Inotknowifitstillthere.MaybeGrandmasoldit.”
“Helenasaysshesawitherself.Doyouthinkthere’sanychanceSylvietookit?”Amysoundedsoyoung,acubreachingoutforhermother.IfonlyIcouldtellherthatwhenwegettothemountain,therewillbeawaythroughit.Whentheboatreachesthebridge-head,itnaturallygoesstraightwiththecurrent.
InsteadIsaid,“Tryfindout.Iftreasurestillthere,GrandmagivetoSylvie.Willbeokay.Notworry.”
Afterwehungupthephone,Ithoughtaboutthegold.OfcourseHelenawantedthejewelrymorethananything.WeweredistantcousinswhohadnevermetuntilshereturnedfromHollandwithherwealthyparents.Somewhowouldputthetallhatofflatteryonmyheadhadcalledmethebeautyofourvillage,butHelenahadsomethingmorevaluabletooffer:aforeignroad.AnymanwhomarriedherwouldbeabletoleavetheCentralKingdomandallofhisfamilycouldfollow,onebyone.Shewasalifeline.Shehadnotroublefindingahusbandthere.
Helenadidnotwantthegoldforthevalueofit.Shehadenoughwealthofherown.Shedesiredittospiteme,totakesomethingofminefrommymother.ShehadalreadyhadGrandmatocareforherboyalltheseyears—mustshestealmyinheritanceaswell?Thatjewelryhadbeenpasseddowninourfamilyfrommothertodaughter,hiddenawaythroughwarsandrevolutions,accumulatedthroughpainanddeath.
Ihadseenitlongagoandrememberedit:thefinestjade,whichgrewgreenerandmorevibrantagainsttheskinofthedeservingowner;twenty-four-caratgold,untainted,unlikesilver,consideredundesirablebecauseittarnished.Thatgoldwastoosoft,helplessinitspurity,tooyieldingtobeofthisworld.Likemymotherandme,itbelongedtoanagegoneby.Itsstrengthwasinitsabilitytobend,buthowmuchcoulditwithstandbeforeitbrokeforgood?
Chapter13
Sylvie
Wednesday,April6
AfterexcludingmefromtheirmeallastSaturday,Helenahadtriedtomakeupforitinherownway.
Thenextmorning,shehadspokentomeatbreakfast.“Igotyouafewthings.HereisanOV-chipcard.Doyouknowwhatthatis?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Youcanuseittocheckinandoutonanytypeofpublictransportation.Itisloadedwithenoughmoneyforyoutotravelforawhile.Ialsoboughtyousometoiletries.”
IopenedmymouthtosayIhadplentyofmyown,butrecognizedthisasapeaceofferingandthankedherinstead.“Thatisverykindofyou.”
HelenahandedmetheOV-chipcardandawickerbasketfilledwithshampoo,conditioner,showergel,andhairgloss.
Ipulledthefamiliarlargegreenbottleofshowergelfromthebasket,flippedopenthelid,andsniffedit.Mmm,greenteaandcucumbers.“Iusedtolovethis.Youremembered.”
“Ofcourse,Itookcareofyouforallthoseyears,”shesaidbriskly.Sheheldherheadhighandclearedherthroat.“Iapologizefortheconfusionyesterday.ThereisplentyoffoodforyouintherefrigeratorwhenWillemandIareworking.Pleasehelpyourself,Sylvie.”
Sincethen,wehadallcoexistedinpeace,butaswasalwaysthecasewithHelenaandme,ourtranquilitywasshort-lived.IspentmuchofmytimehelpingIsawithGrandma,herlaboredbreathingactingasaconstantbackdrop.Iescortedhertothetoiletandbath,exposingpaleskinuntouchedbythesun,armsandlegsgrownsospindlyandfrail,anintimacyshehadneversharedwithmebefore.Grandma’schinhadtrembledthefirsttime,butIsaid,“Whenyoulovesomeone,thereisnoshame.WhenIseeyou,Ionlyknowthatyouaremygrandmaandyouarebeautiful.YoudidthisformewhenIwasyoung.Nowitismyturn.Youalwayssaid,theoldbecomechildrenonceagain.”
ThefirsttimeItriedtomakericecongee,Isetoffthesmokealarm(Grandma:“Lukas!Canyougettothebatteries?Quick!Whatwilltheneighborsthink?”Lukas,balancingonastooltoresettheshrillalarm.Grandma,muttering,“Howcanapersonburncongee?Itisallwater.”)—andsoIwasnolongerallowednearthestove.Instead,Icuthersteamedchickenandvegetableswithriceandfedherbitesonthebaddays,theoneswhenshebarelymoved,herthinhandspickinglistlesslyatthecoverlet.
Mostly,Lukas,Isa,andItookGrandmaoutsideforwalks.Aftercarryingherwheelchairdownstairs,Lukaswouldguideherdown,walkingbackward,oneslowstepatatime,asturdybuttressshouldshefall(Grandma,givingLukas’sbicepsagoodsqueeze:“Sostrongandhandsomelikehisfather.Atigerfatherdoesnotbegetadogson.”),GrandmagrippingthebanisterwithherlefthandasIheldtighttoherupperarm,Isabehinduswiththeoxygentankandotherequipment.WewouldpauseoftensoGrandmacouldtakeafewshallowbreaths,tradingalarmedlooksifsheseemedtooverexertherself.Onceoutside,herfadedeyeswouldbrightenasshesmelledthewind,delightinginthegreenbladesofgrassthathadsurvivedthewinterandtheever-changingswirlofcloudsacrossthesky.
“Thewaterwindisgoodhere.Betterthanpeoplemountain,peoplesea,”Grandmahadsaidonemorning—shehadalwayshatedcrowds—andsuddenlyhereyeswereawashwithunshedtears.“ButitisstillnottheCentralKingdom.”
Myheartached,understandinghowshemustlongforthelandofheryouthasshenearedtheendofherlife.
Lukassteppedclosertoherandlaidhisarmacrossherfrailshoulders.Hedippedhisdarkheadtoresthischeekgentlyontopofherdandelionhair.HisChinesehadneverbeenasgoodasmine,butitwasfarbetterthanAmy’s.Hesaid,“ButyourgranddaughterwithherlimpideyesofautumnwaterisnotintheCentralKingdom.”
IflushedasGrandmasmiledthroughhertears.“Thisistrue.Youbothaccompanymewiththegraceoffloatingcloudsandflowingwater,andopentheheartofthisoldwomanwithjoy.”
Thismorning,Ihadaspecialtreatforher.IcouldnotwaittoshowherthephotosandvideosofMa,Pa,andAmythatIhadbroughtonmyphone.Butafterafewminutes,LukasplacedhisbroadhandonmyshoulderandgesturedwithhischintowardGrandma.IhadbeensoabsorbedinmypresentationthatIhadnotnoticedshewasweepingsilently,hermouthgapinginmuteanguish.
“Oh,Grandma,”Isaid,foldingherinmyarms.“Ididnotmeantothrowstonesdownawellatyou.”
“Iwillneverseemydaughteragain,”shewailed,gaspingforair.“Ishallnevermeetyoursister,BeautifulJasmine.”
LukaspattedherbackasIsaid,“Youshallgazeuponusallafteryoupassthereddustofthemortalworld.Youwillshedyourbodyandexchangeyourbones.”
Slowly,Grandmaquieted.“Ishouldliketorisetoourancestors.”Sheraisedhersmallfaceandblinkedatuswithherswolleneyes.“YouwillburnofferingsformeafterIamgone?SoIhavegoldtospendandsilktowearintheafterlife.”
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,myheartfulltooverflowing.“TheynowmakeMercedesandflat-screentelevisionsinpaperforpeopletoincineratefortheirlovedones.”
Shecockedherheadtooneside.“NoMercedes.IwantaJaguar.”
Lukasemittedachokedsoundthatwassomewherebetweenalaughandasob.
Isaid,“Whydon’tIsingtoyounow?Istillremembersomeoftheoldsongsyoucroonedtous:
LittlesparrowSoyoungandnewYourmothersoughtforwormsSothatyoumightgrowstrong.”
AndwithLukaslisteningintently,Isangtoheruntilshefellasleepagain.
Thatafternoon,IaskednurseIsaforpermissiontobuysomemakeupandtintedhairglossfromthepharmacy.Iwantedlight,naturalshadesforGrandma.WhenIwasyounger,IhadpracticedmymakeupinfrontofthatmottledbathroommirrorinourNewYorkapartmentforhours,tryingtoadjustforitsyellowcastasIappliedmycolorsforaprofessionallook.IloveddoingAmy’smakeuptoo,butshenevercaredabouttheendresult,norcouldsheeverrememberhowtoreplicateit.Thenshewouldinsistonreciprocatingandpaintmeuplikeaclown.ButAmydidnotneedcosmetics.Herbeautyglowedfromwithin,whereasIwasallaboutthesurface.
Theshopwomanwatchedmewithsuspicion,animmigrantandstrangerinthissmalltown.ShethoughtIwasapocket-rollerandsubtlyfollowedmeasIbrushedpastanothercustomer.DidshereallythinkIwouldpickthatelderlyman’spocketrightinfrontofher?ShestaredatmeasIselectedsomehairclipsforAmy,probablybecausetheyweresmallandshewasafraidIwouldslipthemintomybag.Iheldupasetstuddedinrhinestones.Amywouldlookprettyinthese.Theywouldaddsomesparkletoherthick,unrulyhairwhenshepinneditbackfromherheart-shapedface.
Thesaleswomanwasstartingtoannoymenow.ThisclosetoAmsterdam,andsheactedlikeshehadneverseenapersonofcolorbefore.IknewweChineseonlymadeupone-thirdofonepercentintheNetherlandsasawhole,butthiswasridiculous.IturnedtoherandsaidinperfectDutch,“Doyouthinkyoucouldhelpmechooseahaircolorformygrandma?”
Shejumpedinsurprise.Hershouldersrelaxedandaslowsmilespreadacrossherface.IfIspokeDutchthatwell,Icouldnotpossiblybeacriminal.“Ofcourse,ma’am.Thisway.”
WhenIbroughtthesuppliestoGrandma’sroom,Icouldsmellthediseaseeatingatherheartandlungsunderneaththesharpcoolscentofthetigerbalmwe’drubbedacrossherchestearlier.Shehadmostlyrecoveredfromtheemotionofthemorningbutpainstillfilmedhereyes,cloudingtheiroriginalgoldenbrown.Itwentstraightthroughmysoultoseeherlikethis.IpulledmyhairintoasloppyponytailsoitwouldnotgetinmywayasIworked.AsIsaandIshampooedGrandma’shair,herbreathinggrewsoshallowIwasafraidIhadmadeaterriblemistake,overexertingherlikethis.
Isaexchangedaglancewithme.“Noworries,itisgoinggood.”
Ihadpickedasimpleodorlesshairglazewithahoney-browntint.AfterIapplieditontoGrandma’swhitelocks,herhairheldalightcoatingofcolor.Ithengentlypenciledinsubtleeyebrowsoverherprominentskullbones,dabbedherdrylipswithanaturalpeachgloss,andbrushedabitofblushoverherfadingcheeks.Ihadherclosehereyesandfinishedheroffwithapalepinkpowderthatoffsetthepallorofherskin.
WhenIheldthemirrorinfrontofher,shesmiled,asifrecognizinganoldfriend.“Takethisoxygenthingoffmyfaceandgetthatgood-lookingboyinheresohecanseeme.Tellhimtobringhiscameratoo.”
AfterLukashadadmiredandphotographedhertohersatisfaction,wetiptoedfromherroomsoshecouldrest.Outsidehercloseddoor,Lukaslookedatme,thenraisedhishandandpulledmyponytailloose.Myhairtumbleddownaroundmyface.Hebrushedastrandback,thenbentdownandwhispered,“Thankyou.”
Thatevening,asIoftendid,IwenttobedbeforeHelenaandWillemreturnedfromtherestaurantfortheirlatedinner.
Therewasaknockonmyatticdoor.WhenIopenedit,IcouldseeHelenahadshotoutofherslipperwithfury.Hernostrilsflaredandherlegswereplantedwide.Sheraisedafinger,visiblyshaking,andthethickgold-and-jadedragonbraceletonherwristtrembledinthehallwaylight.
WhereIonceusedtocower,Idecidedtoconfrontinstead.“Istheresomething,CousinHelena?”
Shegrittedoutherwordsthroughatightjaw.“WhathaveyoudonetothehairandfaceofGrandma?”
Wasthatit?Ishouldhaveknown.Ikeptmyvoicecalm.“Itmadeherhappy.”
Shepointedherfingeratme,twocentimetersfrommynose.“Itexhaustedher.Youcouldhavehurther.Sheisinthelaststageofherlife.Fromabeautifulplate,youcannoteat.Noneedforhertobemadeuplikepussycat.Forwhom?”
Iknockedherstupidhandawayfrommyface.“Forherself.”
Helenarearedandforamoment,Ithoughtshewouldslapme.Ialmostwantedhertodoit.Iwouldhitherbacksohardherheadwouldspinforaweek.Shefinallyhissed,“Donotthinkyouaresoclever.Iknowwhyyoucameback,eventhoughnooneinvitedyou.”
Iraisedaneyebrow.“Oh?”
“Youwantherfavoragain.Nowthatsheisoldandreadytopassonherinheritance,afteryouleftforsomanyyears.WhileIwastheonewhowasalwayshereforher.Meandmyfamily.”Sheemphasizedeveryphrasewithabobofherhead.
Myangerroseupinme.IhadtovoicemywordsbeforetheyexplodedintothehumiliatingtearsIrefusedtoshed.Iclenchedmyhandsintotightfists.“AndwhydidInotreturntothishouseforsolong?WhereIhadbeentreatedsowell?WasitbecauseofGrandmathatIstayedaway?”
Helenapuffeduplikeanenviousdogtiedtoashortrope.Shewasnotusedtothisversionofme,theonethatspoke.Shesputtered,strangledbyrageandshame,“Grandmaalwayslovedyoubest,likeeveryoneelse.Youandyourmother.”
Icouldnotkeepmyvoicefrombreaking.“Whydidyoustopcaringaboutme?”Ihalfliftedmyhandtowardher:thiswomanwhoshouldhavebeeneverythingtome,whohadinsteadtaughtmetobewareoflove.
Caughtupinherhatred,Helenawenton,ignoringmywords.“Thatgoldofhersbelongstous.Wehousedandclothedheralltheseyears.Iammoreherdaughterthanyourmothereverwas.”
Myarmdroppedbacktomyside.“Youneverpaidherforallthoseyearssheworkedhereforyouasbabysitter,cook,andmaid.Youonlygaveherpocketmoneytospend.Theleastyoucoulddowastoprovideherwithfoodandaplacetolive.Nowyouwanttherestofherjewelrytoo?”
“Wearefamily.Whopaysfamily?ShouldIgetmoneyforallthediapersofyoursIchanged?Anythingsheaskedfor,wegaveher.Ideserveherlegacy.”Helena’seyesglitteredwithnakedintensity.Icouldnottelliftheywerefilledwithgreedoradesperateneedtobeloved.Iwasnotevensureifitmadeadifference:itcamedowntohunger.Perhapsthosedesiresallstemmedfromthesameplaceinourbroken,burdenedhearts.
“Grandmahasbutonechildandthatismymother.”IsawIhadhitasensitivestringinHelena.ShepaledandIwasashamed.Itriedtogentlemyself.“GrandmalovesyouandIknowshehasalreadygivenyousomevaluablepieces,likethatdragonbraceletyouarewearingnow.ShewantstopasssomethingontoMatoo,that’sall.Isthatsowrong?”
Helenacoveredthejewelrywithherotherhand,asifshebelievedIwouldwrenchitfromherwrist.“DidGrandmacallandaskyoutocome?”
“Yes.”
Theflashofhurtinhereyeswasquicklyswallowedbyfury.Beneaththehallwaylight,herfacewasapatchworkofwhiteandredblotches.“Thattreasurebelongstomeandmyfamily.Iwilldoanythingtostopyoufromleavingwithit.Donotcrossmeinthis,Sylvie.”
Withoutanotherword,sheturnedandleft.
WhenIstilllivedintheNetherlands,Grandmausedtoletmeplaywithherjewelryifwewerealoneinherroom.ItwastheonethingsheneversharedwithLukas,theonlywaysheletitbemarkedthatIwasherdirectbloodrelative.OurfamilyhadbeenrichbeforetheCommunistRevolutiontookoverChinaandmuchofourwealthhadbeenhiddenintheformofjewelry.Somepieceshadbeeninourfamilyforgenerations.WhenIwaslittle,Iespeciallylovedthearticulatedcarppendantsetwithimperialjade.Theemerald-greenstonesweresotranslucentandvibrantthatthefishseemedalive,andIwouldmakeitswimacrossGrandma’sbed.
“Youweremadetowearjade,SnowJasmine.Seehowitcomestolifeagainstyourskin,”Grandmasaid.
ButIneverdared.Iwasacoward,aherowithonlysockson,becauseoftheonetimeIhadskippeddownthestairswhileadmiringamarquise-cutgoldringsetwithdiamondsthatwasmuchtoobigformyfinger,andHelenahadcaughtme.
Theangeronherfacehadbeenascleartoreadaspartsofabook.“Wheredidyougetthat?”
IhadturnedandfledbackupstairstoGrandma’sroom,wherethetreasurewasstillspreadacrossthebed.Helenahadburstintotheroomandweallstoodthere,thethreeofus,assilentandunmovingasblocksofice.Grandmagesturedwithherfingers.Itookofftheringandhandedittoher.Withoutaword,Grandmagathereditallupandputitbackinherjewelrybag.ShewaiteduntilHelenahadlefttohideitagain.Noneofushadeverspokenoftheincident.
Grandmadidnotliketomentiondeathbecauseitwasbadluck,butshehadsaidtomemanytimesbeforeIleftforAmerica,“Ifanythingeverhappenstome,SnowJasmine,youmusttakethis.Itisforyou,yoursister,andyourmother.Thiswasgiventomebymymotherandtoherbyhermother,andsoitmustremain.”
ItwasthemorningafterIhadcoloredGrandma’shair.OnlyLukasandIwereinthehousewithher,andshesatuprightinherbed.Thiswasagoodday.Shesaid,“Sylvie,showmeyoustillknowwhereitishidden,getitout.”
IglancedatLukas,wholookedconfused.
“Itisallright.Heisagoodboy,”Grandmasaid.
AndsoIdid.Iwentdownstairsandremovedthescrewdriverfromthetoolbox,camebackandwenttothesmallclosetinGrandma’sroom.Iunloadedpileafterpileofboxesfilledwithbrocadeandcotton,coilsofoldknittingyarn,outdatedblousesthatsmelledofmothballs,andcheapDutchsouvenirsuntilIfoundtheworncarpetingunderneath.IpriedopentheloosepieceIknewwasinthebackleftcorner.ThenIbrushedawaythedirt,uncoveringwhatappearedtobenailsinthefloorboardsbutwereactuallyscrews.Iloosenedthem,liftedthefloorboards,andpulledoutGrandma’streasure.
Theembroideredvelvetbagwascompactandheavyforitssize.IsetituponGrandma’sbedand,whenshedidnotmove,openedthedrawstringtoslideoutthesmall,bulging,zippedredsilkenvelopes.LukascametostandbehindmeandIopenedafewtoshowhimtheircontentsashisbushyeyebrowsdisappearedintohisforehead.Wasthathurtonhisface—becauseGrandmahadsharedthiswithmebutnothim?
Ajade-and-goldnecklacewithshimmeringdiamondaccents,eachpiecedangledonadelicateshinystreamofgold.Aruby-crustedbeetlebrooch—whenIwasachild,thebeetleandthecarphadmanyadventurestogether.Heavynecklacesandbraceletsofbraidedpuregold,delicateflowersandspraysofwaterfrozenintopreciousstones,asmallsatchelfilledonlywithweddingrings,thetwenty-four-caratgoldbentandscarredfromyearsofwear,yetstillglowingwithgentleradiance.Itriedtosliponeoftheringsontomyfingeranditwasmuchtoosmallnow,asifithadbeensizedforachildbride.
Thenthetwosmallersilkbags,onefilledwithgoldcoinsandtheotherwithfinejadepieces.IhadlearnedafewthingssinceIwasachildandnowknewthatthebestjadecouldcommandafortuneonthemarket,especiallythetypesIrecognizedhere:kingfisher,moss-in-snow,andapplejade,butmainly,andthemostdesirableofall,imperialjade.
Grandmaliftedherlimphand.Herlowvoicecracked.“Thisbagbearstheweightofyears,SnowJasmine.Itisasrareasphoenixfeathersandunicornhorns.Fromthewomenofourline,drawnfromtheirhappinessandtheirsorrows,thispassesontoyourmotherandlater,toyouandyoursister.”
Itriedtoswallow.“Grandma,Idonotwanttotakethisfromyou.”
“Youmustresoundlikethunderandmovelikethewind.Actnow.Ihavekeptitsafealltheseyearsforyourmother.Dowithitasyouwill.Tellyourmothersheshouldsellwhateversheneeds.Thisgoldismeanttoservetheliving,nottoenslavethem.”
IthoughtaboutthecostspilingupnowthatIhadnojobandnohusband.Ithoughtaboutthecreditcardbillslyingunopenedinmyhallway.IthoughtaboutAmy’sstudentloans,MaandPa,andtheirapartment.Ihadnotcaredaboutanythingbutgettingaway.IwishedIcouldshedmyoldskinandthatmylifetherehadbeenadream.Butallofitwasanightmare:Jim;theconsultancyfirm;thedesperate,futilestruggleforMaandPa’sloveandapproval—andIwouldhavetoreturneventually.Iunderstoodthis.
Grandmacontinuedspeaking,hereyesfixeduponthewindow.“Ihadhopedtoputthisintoyourmother’shands.ButIknewshewouldnotcome.Notevennow.”TherewassomuchgriefinhervoicethatItookherhand.
“Mathinksaboutyouallthetime,Grandma.Shewouldhaveifshecould.”
“Shestayedawaynotbecauseshedidnotcareenough.Shestayedawaybecauseshelovestoomuch,”Grandmasaid.“Iunderstand,butstillitsaddensme.Youmusttakethetreasurenow,whileyoucan.”
Isaidonlyoneword,“Helena.”Helena,sojealousshecouldnotseethesunshininguponthewater.Outofthecornerofmyeye,IsawLukasnod.
Grandmasaid,“Thatwomanhaseatenvinegar.Shewillalwaysbespiteful.Itisapitythatsheglimpsedthegoldallthoseyearsago,buttherehadalreadybeenrumors.Iamanarrowattheendofitsflight.OnceIamgone,shewillripthisroomapartlookingforit.Asthewaterrecedes,therockswillappear.Therewillbeswordsdrawnandbowsbent.Takeitnowandhideitinatrainstationlockerorsomething.”
Lukashuffedoutalaugh.
Isaid,“YouhavebeenwatchingtoomanyHongKongsoapoperas,Grandma.Iamnotaspy.Thoughshemaybeatoadlustingafteraswan’sflesh,shewillneverletitgo,undeservingornot.Sheknowsyouplantogiveittome.Shesaidshewoulddoanythingtostopyou.Ifshedoesnotfinditinthisroom,shewillknowIhaveit.”
Grandmasethertriangularlittlechin,solikeMa’sandAmy’s.“So?Toobadforher.Bythen,thericewillalreadyhavebeencooked.”
Isighed,thinkingofthecruelwordsIhadspokentoHelena.“Isupposeyouareright.”
Lukassaid,“Shewillloseface.Itwillbeanuglyscene.ShemightevendemandtosearchyourluggageorclaimthatyoustoleitfromGrandma.Perhapsitistimeforthunderfromaclearsky.Grandma,maybeyoushoulddothingstheWesternwayandtellmymotherdirectlythatyouaregivingyourinheritancetoSylvie.”
Bothofusputonourhugeeyesandstaredathimasifwesawwaterburning.
Grandmasaid,“WearenotDutch,myheartstem.ThatwouldhurthermorethananythingelseIcoulddo.Iamnotabletobeahumanbeinginsuchaway.Weneedtogiveherabackroadforherescapeeventhoughshecomestolootaburninghouse.Shealsodesirestoattainitforyou,Lukas.Ihopeyouunderstand?”
Lukasshrugged.“WhatwouldIuseitfor?”ButhismouthwasstrainedandIrememberedhisdreamsofowninghisownstudio.
Isaid,“Shehungersforyourlove,Grandma.”
“Shehasit,thoughshecouldhavebeennicertomethroughtheyears.ThethingsIhaveseeninthishouse,thewayshetreatedyou.Youaretwowhocouldnotliveunderthesamesky.”Grandma’sshouldersdrooped.Sherubbedtheheelofherpalmagainstherbonychest.Thiswasthefirsttimewehadeverspokenofit.“Icoulddosolittleforyouthen.Thisisalsowhyyouandyourmaneedtohavethejewelry.ItisthesmallestboonIcangiveyou,tokeepyousafe.IunderstandtheproblemofHelena.Butnowyoumustfightpoisonwithpoison,andIhaveanidea.”
Thenextmorning,Iawokeexhaustedagain.EvenwiththeprescriptionsleepingpillsIhadbroughtfromNewYork,Icouldbarelymanagetomakeitthroughthenights.Iwasdesperateforrest.IwouldsleepmyentirelifeawayifIcould,butthemoreIlongedforit,themoreiteludedme,likeeverythingelseIdesired.Ihadalwaysbeenabadsleeperandinthedark,stillDutchhours,thewreckageofmylifecaughtuptome,worryingattheedgesofmymindlikearabiddog—Jimandthatgirl,thewhispersatwork,thosetendermomentswithJimwhenwehadbothbeensoinnocent,myphonecallwithAmy,herblindfaithinme,andGrandma,movingfurtherfrommeeverydayuntilshedisappearedintothehorizon.Itookthesleepingpillsatnightforabitofoblivionandthenamphetaminesinthewretchedmorningstogetmeupandmovingagain.
IwascradlingmyheadinmyhandsatthediningroomtablewhenLukasenteredtheroom.GrandmawasnappingupstairsandWillemandHelenahadalreadyleftfortherestaurant.
Hisgazelingeredontheshadowsbelowmyeyes.“Isitgoingallright?”
“Naturally.”ItriedtosoundassteadyandrobustastheDutchalwaysdid,butitonlymademyheadacheseemworse.
Hescannedthecoldkitchen.“Youhavenotevenmadeanyteaforyourself.”
“Itisthejetlag,”Ilied,eventhoughIhadbeenintheNetherlandsalmostaweekbythen.Itseemedlikesomuchefforttomakebreakfastformyself,andIoftenskippeditathomeanyway,runningtomeetingsandpresentations.“Youknowwhat?Iusedtolongtotakeavacation,butnowthatIhavefreetime,Idonotknowwhattodowithmyself.”
“Youwereneververygoodatresting.Alwaysacting,alwaysdoing.Sometimesyoujustneedtobe,Sylvie.”
“Hamsterinawheel,that’sme.”Eightytoahundredhoursaweekatwork.TheglowofthelaptopkeepingmecompanyasJimsnoredinourbedroom.Flightstocityaftercity.Alwaysanotherdeadline,anothercrisis.Andforwhat?Whenitmattered,noonehadstoodupformedespiteallthemoneyIhadbroughtinforthecompany.IwasbeginningtorealizethatIhadkeptmyselfsobusytoavoidexaminingmylife,andnowthatIhadthechance,Ididnotlikeitatall.
Lukasfilledtheelectrickettlewithwater.Themorningsunlightslantedthroughthewindowandlittheoutlineofhisbroadshoulders.Hissilkydarkhair,almostperfectlystraight,hadaslightcurltoitwhereithitthebaseofhisneck.“ItisabeautifuldayoutsideandIwouldliketotakesomephotos.Comewithme.Icanmakeussomesandwiches.Iknowjusttheplace.”
PedalingawayonthepinkfloweredbicycleEstellehadlentme,Ibreathedinthefaintscentofhyacinths.Theopenlandscapestretchedbeforeus,brightlycoloredfieldsofcrocusesanddaffodilswavinginthebreeze,andIfeltsomethinginsidemeunclench.Aflockofwildgeeseslowlytookflightaroundus,beatingtheirwings,risingupintotheairaswepassed.Ihadforgottenhowgooditfelttohavemybodybalancedonthebicycle’sthinwheels,thefreedomoftheroadspeedingunderneathmeandthejoyofthewindinmyface.
Lukastookusalongatree-linedstretchbytheAmsterdam-RhineCanalwherethedeepwatersparkled.Wefinallystoppedatalittlepicnicspotwithabenchoverlookingtheripplingcurrents.Atreehunglowinthewavesandthereafewducksfloated,cradledinitsbranches.
AsIlockedmybikeandsetitagainstatree,Isaid,“ItisstrangebecauseIamnaturallyafraidofwaterbutIloveittoo.”Lukasunhookedhisbicyclebags.Thenhetookoffhisshoesandpeeledoffhissocks.Hesteppedbarefootaroundthepicnicarealikeabigbulkyflamingo.Igiggled.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Tryingtofindadryspot.Whyareyouscaredofwater?”Hestompedafewtimesononelocation,grunted,andpulledoutathickpine-greenblanketfromhisbags.
Iwentovertohelphimunfurlitovertheground.“BecauseIcandrownintwometersofit,idiot.”Islappedhimonthearm,andthensatdowncross-legged.Iranafingeroverthesoftfleece.
“Oh,Iforgot.”Lukasgrimaced,lookingsheepish.EveryoneintheNetherlandscouldswim.Hesettleddownonthecorneroftheblanketnexttome.“Whydoyouloveit,then?”
“Itfeelslikefreedom.”
Nowhestretchedoutandlayonhisback.Strandsofhishairspreadovertheblanket,shiningwiththeiridescenceofamusselshellwashedbytheseasurf.Hespokewithhiseyesclosed.“IwasintheoceanforafewmonthsduringatriptoAlaska.Thewaveswereenormous,somuchgreaterthananyofus.Theseawaslikeagraveyardorautopia,acavernwhereancientworldswereswallowedupandwaitedtobediscoveredagain.”
Ileanedin.Hesmelledlikefreshlycutgrass,basil,andearth.Hewassofamiliarandyetatthesametimeutterlynew.Suchthicklashes,thesmallfreckleunderneaththesharpplaneofhisleftcheekbone,thescarthreadedthroughthehairbehindhistemplefromwhenhehadfallenfromthejunglegymatschool.Hisbare,hairyfeetstickingoutfromhissnugjeans.Hisfulllips.HiseyesopenedandIjumpedback.
Iclearedmythroat.“Yourpoetryislostonme.Iambutasimplegirl.”Ileapedupandlookedaroundforsomethingtodo.Istuckmyhandsinmypockets.Icoughedagain.Ah,yes,thefood.“Iwillunpackthesandwiches.”
Heproppedhimselfononeelbow,thetopbuttonofhisshirtstraining,revealingasliverofsmoothtannedskin.“Ha!Simple.YouweredevouringbooksbeforeIevenlearnedthealphabet.Youremembereveryonecouldnotunderstandwhyyouwerelookingatbookswithoutpictures?Nooneguessedyouwereactuallyreadingalready.”
Iforcedmyselftolookawayandstartedrummaginginthebicyclebag.Isaid,translatingfromChinesetoDutch,“Dumbbirdsmuststartflyingearly.”
InowploppeddownasfarawayfromhimasIcould.Enoughofthatnonsense,Sylvie.Outofsheernervousness,IstartedhummingasIpouredteaforusfromthethermos.IsmiledwhenIfoundtheclothnapkins,foldedintoperfectpinwheels.“Ah,youhaveusedthataxmoreoften.Thisistheworkofanexpert.Iforgotyouwerethechildofrestaurantowners.Idon’trememberhowtodothisanymore.”
“Ispentmanyhourshelpingoutthere,whiletheywerestillhopingIwouldtakeovertherestaurant.”
Ifinallydaredtolookathimagain.Hewassittingupnow,thankgoodness.“Weretheydisappointed?”
“Very.”Hislipsflattened.Heimitatedhismother.“‘Whatnonsense,followingyourdreams.Survive.Makealiving.Eat.’ExceptIthinkPaunderstands.Heisjustafraidtospeakup.”WillemhadbeenamathematicsteacherinChina.Hiswasthebrilliantmindbehindthesuccessoftherestaurant,balancingtheinputandoutputofgoodsandstaff,knowingexactlywhentheyhadtohunkerdownandwhentheyshoulddiversify.Whenhehadhelpedmewithmyhomework,wewouldflythroughtheproblemstogether,leapfroggingtotheanswerwhileLukaswaslefttopuzzleitoutlinebyline.Still,thedebtWillemowedHelenaforreleasinghimfromChina’sgripwasonehewouldneverbeabletorepay.
Therewasanawkwardpause.Ifilleditwithmysenselesshummingagain,andLukassaid,“Youhaveanicevoice.”
“Youshouldhearmylittlesister,Amy.”IpassedhimaBriesandwichondarkseed-mixbreadandtookoneformyself.“Ifshehearsasongontheradio,shecanpickitoutonherguitarorkeyboard.Andhervoice,sorichandevocative,Iwouldsometimesleanagainsttheoutsideofthebathroomdoorwhileshewastakingashower,justtolisten.”
“Shesoundsprettygreat.”Tomysurprise,hiseyebrowshadfurrowedintoonethickline.Wasthatsarcasminhisvoice?
Isaiddefensively,“Sheis.Therewasneverenoughmoneyortimetotrainhertalent.Iwasnotoldenoughtohelpherthen.”
Heleanedoverandlaidhislargepalmovermyknee.Icouldfeelthewarmthofitthroughmyslacks.“Whataboutyou,Sylvie?Whowasthereforyou?”
Ishiftedsohishandfellfromme,thentoreoffabitofmybreadandpitcheditintothewaterfortheducks.Onedoveforit,quackingwildly,whiletherestfled.“Ihavealwaysbeenfine,Lukas.Donotfuss.”
“Ithinkyoushouldtakeabreak,Sylvie.Youcannoteatfortomorrow.Enjoyyourselfwhileyouarehereandmaybefindsomethingrelaxingtokeepyourselfoccupied.Nothingproductiveoreducational.”Hetookabiteofhissandwich.
Itossedanotherpieceofbreadatthecluelessducks.Theyhadgatheredcloseagain.Thistime,theyallscattered.“ButIamhereforGrandma.”
“Youcannotbewithhertheentireday.DoyouknowwhoEstelleandIjusthadabeerwiththeotherday?Youshouldeatyoursandwich.”
Estelle.Ofcourse,thatwaswherehehadbeen.Ishookmyheadandwrappedmyarmsaroundmyknees,suddenlyweary.“Iamnothungry.”
“Filip.Doyourememberhim?Hewasinourclass.”
Icastmymindbackandfoundavagueimageofasmall,dark-hairedkid.“Yes,healwaysplayedtheviolinorsomethingintheChristmasshows?”
Lukasshuffledtositbesidemeandtookmysandwichfrommyhands.“Thatishim.HeisaprofessionalcellistnowwiththeNetherlandsPhilharmonicOrchestra.Webecamegoodfriendsafteryouleft.Hegivesprivatelessonsonhisliving-boatinAmsterdam.Youcouldtryit.”Heheldthebreaduptomylips.“Stopgivingtoothers.Leavesomethingforyourself.Takeabite.”
Iobeyed,thentookthesandwichandblinkedslowlyathimasIchewed.Hewassuddenlyveryclose.Iswallowed.“WhereonearthwouldIgetacello?”
Hiseyeswereonmymouth.“Ithinkmostofhisstudentsrentone.”
Self-conscious,Iturnedaway,brushingmylips.DidIhavecrumbsonmyface?“ButIamnotmusicalatall.Amyisthe—”
Nowhedrewbackaswellandsighed.“Iknowit,youhavesaidit.Butthatispreciselythepoint.Goandtrysomethingyouhavenotdonebefore.Youneverknowwhereitwillleadyou.”
Chapter14
Amy
Friday,May6
AfterthedispiritingtalkwiththepoliceandtheTanfamily,Ireturntomyroomintheatticandcallhometoupdatemyparents.ThenIpace.WillemandHelenahaveleftforworkattheirrestaurant.IcouldlietomyselfbutthetruthisthatnoonehereknowsSylviethewayIdo.Sylviewouldneverwillinglydisappearlikethiswithoutaword,despiteHelena’shintsthatshestoleGrandma’sjewelryandranoff,despiteLukas’sconvictionthatshe’sjusttakingsometimeforherself.Iremovemyglassesandrubthemagainstmyshirt.Iconsidermyimagereflectedinthelenses.Whoareyougoingtobe,AmyLee?Auseless,shylittlesister?OrareyougoingtostepuptotheplateforSylvie?Because,clearly,nooneelseisgoingtodoit,noteventhepolice.
Istandupstraighter,gointothebathroom,andputinmycontactlenses.It’sasurprisetoseemyfacewithouttheprotectiveglasses:allthatexposedskin,stretchedtightovermybones,vulnerablebutstrongertoo.There’safiercenesstomymouthI’venevernoticedbefore.IlookthroughmydormerwindowintimetoseeLukaswheelalargeblackbicycleoutofthesmaller,garage-likehouse.Thatmustbewherehelives.He’smybestchanceatfindingoutwhathappenedtoSylviewhileshewashere.Heisnotgettingawayfrommetoday.
Ihurtledownthestairsandflingopenthefrontdoor,panting.“Hey,Lukas!Whereareyougoing?”
Hestopsinsurprise.“IammeetingEstelleinthecenter.”
“Oh,d-doyoumindifIcomealong?”IampullingonmythinjacketandstickmyfeetintomyshoeswhileIholdthefrontdooropenwithmyhip.
Tomysurprise,hewaitspatientlyformetocomeoutside.“Okay.Ishouldshowyouaroundanyway.”Thenheleanshisbikeagainstthehouseandleadsmebacktohiscottage.“Thankyou,bytheway.”
“Forwhat?”Iwillneverunderstandthisman.
“FordefendingSylvie.”Hepeersatmefrombeneathhislonglashes.Forthefirsttime,hetrulysmilesatme.Itlightsuphisentirefaceandhebecomessohandsome,Icatchmybreath.“IamsorryIwasnotveryfriendly.IamextremelyworriedaboutSylvieandEstellesaysItendtoactlikeanangrybearmostofthetimeanyway.Youknow,Sylvieisalwaystalkingaboutyou.”
“Really?”
“‘Amyissosmart,Amyissokind.Amycansingthebirdsfromthetrees.Withherglasses,Amyhasthisfunnyhabitof—’”
Idon’trecognizethisversionofmyself.“Habitofdoingwhat?”
Helaughssoftlytohimself.“Nothing.SothisiswhereIlive.”
“Doyoulikeithere?”
“Well,Irentthisplacefrommyfamilyanditiseasy,becausetheytakecareofCouscousandwatchtheapartmentwhileIamgone.ItendtobeabroadmorethanIaminthiscountry.ButIamsavingformyownworkplaceandhouse.Thatismygreathope.”
Lukasunlockshisfrontdoor.Hedoesn’tinvitemeinbutIstickmyheadinanyway.It’snotalivingroom,likeI’dexpected,butratheralargephotostudioandstoragespace,filledwithreflectiveumbrellas,tripods,andlightstands.
“I’dlovetoseeyourworksometime,”Isay.
“Sure,”heanswers,withoutanyenthusiasm.Hepullsonachainhookedagainstthewallandanadult-sizepinkbicycledescendsfromapulleyontheceiling.
“That’ssurprising,”Isay.“Ididn’texpectittobeupthere.”
“Spaceiscostlyheresowehavetostorealotofthingsvertically.Likemywasheranddryer.”Hegesturesatthetwomachinesinthebackcorner,whicharestackedoneontopoftheother.“Especiallybecauseweusuallydonothaveanybasements.Thegroundistoosoftandwet.Theentirecountryisbelowsealevel.”
“Nowheretostashthebodies,huh?”Isay,andwanttoface-palmmyself.Thatcameoutallwrong.LukasfreezesandIfollowwithaweak“Haha.”
Hedoesn’tanswer.Abreezegustsagainstmyjacketashestepsoutsidewiththebicycle.Isquintmyeyesagainstthebrilliant,piercingsunlight.ThecloudsareswirlinginunpredictablepatternswithinavastVanGoghsky.
Lukashasbroughtafewtoolswithhimandstartstolowerthebikeseatforme.Thebicycleiscoveredwithhand-paintedwhiteflowers.“Sylvieistallerthanyouare.”
IrealizethatI’msupposedtorideonthatthing.“Muchmoreathletictoo.Isthisherbike?”
“BorrowedfromEstelle.ButSylviewillnotmind.Wecanresetitforhereasily.”AbitoftheconstantacheinmyneckeasestohearhiscalmcertaintythatSylviewillbeback.
“Whatdoyouthinkhashappenedtoher?”
Hiseyesdartawayfrommine.“Ithinksomethingupsetherandshewantstimetoconsidereverything.”
Whyishenotlookingatme?Washetheonewhoupsether?“Really?Youthinkshe’sokay?”
“Yes,Ido.”HisvoiceissointenseIwonderifhetrulybelievesthisorifheneedstobecertainofSylvie’ssafetysomuchhe’sconvincedhimselfofit.Ormaybehe’sabrilliantactorandhe’scoveringsomethingup.
Itrytosoundcasual.“Whatcouldhaveupsetherthatmuch?”
Heshrugsandwavesonehandatthemainhouse.
“Right,”Isay.“Lotsofoptionsthere.”MaybeHelenahadaccusedSylvieofstealingthejewelryandSylviehadleft.Butwhywouldn’tshehavecomehome?Inthepitofmystomach,mylongingformysisterintensifies.Sylvie,whereareyou?
Lukashasfixedtheseatwithquietcompetenceandnowadjuststhehandlebars.Inoticethatdespitehisapparentcalm,hisknucklesarewhitewithtension.
“C-couldn’twejustwalk?”
“No,itwillbemucheasierforyouonthebicycle.”
Right.Afewminuteslater,Iamwobblingonthetreacherouspinkbicycle,barelymanagingtostayupright.Whichidiotsaidyouneverforgethowtoride?Lukasdidn’tevengivemeahelmet.ButthenImanagetofindmybalanceandfollowhimintothebrickstreet.Icantellhe’sholdingbackformebecausesoonanoldladywithawalkerattachedtothebackofherbikezoomspastusasifwewerestandingstill.MybikeswaysasIfightthewindthatthreatenstoblowmebackward.
“Youaredoingfine,”Lukascallsoverhisshoulder.“Wearegoingtomakearightatthenextcorner,andafterthat,itisstraightalongtheRiverVecht.Veryeasy.”
Igrunt,toostressedfromconcentratingonthebumpyroad.ThereareasurprisingnumberofpeopleonbicyclesforaFriday.Doesn’tanyonehavetogotoworkhere?Amomandhertinychildweavepastme.He’spedalingawayonhisownlittlebicyclewithouttrainingwheelsandistheonlyonewearingahelmet.Sheshootsmeasympatheticsmile.Thencomesabusinessmaninacharcoalsuit,sittingboltupright,speakingintohisheadset,elegantleatherbriefcasestrappedtotheback.
Imanagetomaketheturnontotheriverroadandtakeamomenttoliftmyheadandlookaround.Icansmellthewater.Thesparklingskyisadmiringitsownreflectiononthesurfaceoftheripplinggreenwaveswheretherowboatsandsailboatsaredocked,waitingtowhisktheirpassengersawayonanadventure.Thetree-lined,smallbrickstreetmergeswiththesidewalk,onlyadifferentcolorandstonepatterndistinguishingthem,andIalmostveerontothewalkway.Ibarelymissayoungwomanwholeapsoutofmyway,utteringwhatmustbeaDutchcurse.Ispeedpastoldandnewhouseswithpointedgables,nonetallerthanthreestories,whichlinebothoursideoftheriverandtheoppositebank.Itiscompletelyforeignandalmostunbearablycharmingatthesametime.
Aswepassalittlewhitechurch,itshighbelltowerchimesthehour.Withtheurgentpealofitsbellsbehindus,wepassabridgeandpulluptoacafénestledonthebankoftheriver.Toourright,largerusticbarrowsfilledwithpinkbegonias,andtotheleft,pottedshrubsguardanumberofsquarewoodentablesshadedbydarkgreenparasolsthatreadHEINEKEN.IspotEstellesittinginacheckeredsage-and-whitechairwithhereyesclosed,sunlightcaressingherupturnedface.Sheiswearingsomekindofblueblazerandthere’saclunkyblackbagonherlap.Despitethebriskbreeze,afewothercustomersareseatedattheoutdoortables.
MylegsalmostcrumpleasIgetoffthebicycleandleaveitattherack.Givemeanicesubwayanyday.EstellesmilesasweapproachandstandstogiveLukasanotherlushsmackonthelips.Thenshekissesmethreetimes,alternatingoneachcheek,aseveryoneelseseemstodointhiscountry.“Iamsogladyoucame!Didyouremembertolockyourbike,Amy?”
Lukastossesovermybikekeyandsitsdownbesideher.“Ididitforyou.”
Estellepretendstotsk.“Thisisaverysafecountry.Ihaveleftmyhandbagwithwalletinsideinthebasketofmybicyclebyaccidentandcomebackaftershoppingtofindthatnoonehastakenit.Ofcourse,thatwasastupidthingtodo.Butifyouleaveabikeunlocked,watchout!”
Ihavesettledintothechairacrossfromthem.“Whyisthat?”
Lukasshrugs.“Everyonehashadsomanybikesstolenthemselvesthatiftheyseeoneunlocked,theyfeelitisfairgame.”
Estellewinks.“Itturnsintothewildwesthere.Oneminuteandyourbicyclewillbegone.”
Istudythemforamoment.TheangerEstelledisplayedattheairportwhensheaskedLukasifhehadfoughtwithSylvieisgone.Shehasn’tsaidanythingaboutSylvie.Hemusthavealreadytalkedtoherandsomehowconvincedherthathe’sintheclear.IsthattrueorisLukasjustanincrediblemanipulator?
Whenthewaitresscomes,EstellesuggestsIorderakoffieverkeerd,whichsheexplainsmeanscoffeethewrongwayaround,soit’smoremilkthancoffee,andanuitsmijter,whichhassomethingtodowitheggsandtheDutchcheeseGouda.ShepronouncesitlikeHouda
AftersheandLukasplacetheirorders,Estellesays,“Soareyousurvivingthathouse?”
Ichuckle.Whatarelieftotalktosomeonenormalagain.“Barely.Imean,mycousinHelenameanswell,but…”
“Iknow.AndLukascanbepricklytoo,especiallythesedays.”
Lukasthrowshishandsup.“JusttalkaboutmelikeIamnothere.”
“Willdo,”Estelleagrees,withawinkatme.“Well,ithasbeenveryhardforhim,firstwithGrandma’sdeathandthenthedisappearanceofSylvie.”Herfaceturnsserious.Shewrinklesherforehead.“ThoughGrandmawasnotactuallyhisgrandmotherbyblood,right?Thatalwaysconfusesme.”
“ShewasmygrandmotherandSylvie’stoo,butnotLukas’s.InChinese,weoftencallacloseolderwoman‘Grandma.’It’sasignofrespectandlove.”
“Well,LukaswascrazyaboutGrandmatoo.”
“Fine.”Lukasstands.“Iwillgousethetoiletsoyoucandiscussme.WhenIcomeback,youwillstop.”HegivesEstelleanaffectionatetugonherhairbeforeheleaves,soIknowheisnottrulyangry.Thisismychancetogetsomeinformationoutofher.
Hepassesthewaitress,whoiswalkingtoourtablewiththedrinks.ShesetsdownaverysmallcupofcoffeeforLukas.Mykoffieverkeerdisservedwithalittlecookie.Estelletellsmeitisaministroopwafel.Estelle’sCoca-ColaLightcomeswithawedgeoflemonandalongplasticstirrer.
Iask,“AreLukasandSylvieclose?”
Shepullsthestirreroutofherdrink.Aflatcircularbasewithspikesissetperpendiculartothestem.“Fromthetimewewerelittle.Theywerealwaystogether.”
Itakeasipofmykoffieverkeerd.Itiscreamyanddelicious.“Whydidyouthinktheymighthaveargued,then?”
Hergreeneyesarestartled.“Ididnotsaythat.”
Isetmyjaw.“Youaskedhimaboutit.Attheairport.”Iamnotbackingdownanymore.
Nowsheusesthebaseofthestirrertomashthelemonintohercola,avoidingmygaze.“Itisnormalfortwofriendstofightsometimes,isitnot?”
Iplacemyhandgentlyoverherlong,elegantfingers.Theyarecoldandslightlyclammy.“Estelle,pleasehelpme.”Istareatourhandssomytearswon’toverflow.
“Oh,Amy.”Sheisbesidemethen,huggingmetightly,herblazerroughagainstmycheek.Iampathetic.Evenpeoplewhoarepracticallystrangerspityme.Butstill,Iclosemyeyesandsqueezeherback.Shegivesmeaquickkissonmytempleandthensitsbackinherchair.“ItrulybelieveSylvieisallright.”
Isthatreallytrue—ohplease,KuanYin,goddessofmercy,letthatbetrue—orhasLukasconvincedherofthis?Ifanmyeyeswithmyhandandputthestroopwafelinmymouth.Itturnsouttobeawafflemadefromtwothincrispylayersofdoughfilledwithstickycaramelsyrup.IchewslowlyasIcomposemyself.
“Weareaclosefriendshipgroup,”Estelleissaying.“Andsometimesthingscangetcomplicated.Therecanbemisunderstandings.Butbelieveme,noneofuswouldeverhurtSylvieinanyway,andespeciallynotLukas.”
Ihearsomesortofchingchongsoundbehindherandcatchsightoftwoyoungguysandaprettyblondgirlwalkingpastus.Oneoftheguysgivesmeaslysmile.Itwashim,I’msureofit.Estellewhipsherheadaroundandgiveshimthefinger.Goodtoknowthatsomegesturesworkheretoo.Hestops,angry,andtakesahalfsteptowardus,butthegirlwithhimgrabshisarmandpullshimaway.
“Iamsorry.WehaveourproblemshereintheNetherlandstoo.Thereisstupidityeverywhereandwearenotusedtohavingmanyforeignershere,”Estellesays.“ThisisMother’sDayweekendandeveryidiothasreturnedtoourvillagetoseehismom.”
Myheartispoundinginmythroat.Iamusedtothisaggressionbackhome,andhadnoticedsomeDutchpeoplestaringatmecuriously,butstillhadn’texpectedithere.“You’resoclosetoAmsterdam.”
“Thebigcitiesareanotherstory,butthisisstillasmallvillageinmanywaysanditisveryoldandwhite.SomeofthesehouseswerebuiltintheMiddleAgesanditsometimesseemslikethethinkingisfromthentoo.ItwasnoteasyforSylvieandLukas,beingtheonlyAsiansinthearea.”
PoorSylvie.She’dhadtofightherentirelife,justforbeingbornasshewas.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Estelletakesalongsipofhercola,leavingafaintlipstickringontheglass.“IremembersomeboysstoleLukas’sbikekeyandwerethrowingitbackandforthastheyinsultedhim.”
Aslowangerbeginstoburninme.Iamgrindingmyteeth.Whatmorons.HadtheydonethattoSylvietoo?“How?”
“Thathecouldnotseeoutofthoseslitsforeyes,hisparentslivedinagarbageheap…thatkindofthing.ButthenSylviejumpedoneofthemandtookhimdown,andthatunleashedLukas.Bythen,Ihadgottenthereaswellsoitturnedintoonebigkicking,scratching,andpunchingfight.”Estelle’ssmileisfondatthememory.Iwatchherwithunfoldingaweandgratitude.ShehadfoughtforSylvie,bySylvie’sside.Whatwoulditbeliketobeasfearlessasthethreeofthem?“Itwasgreat.Wetoldtheprincipalandtheygotintosomuchtrouble.”
IstartleasLukasspeaksandslidesintohisseat.“ButmymotheralsopunishedSylviebecauseshesaidthatSylviestartedit.ShehasalwaysdrawnSylviewithblackcoal.”
PerfectSylvie,punished?AndMa,Pa,andIhadhadnoideawhatherlifehadbeenlike.IwanttomarchbacktothehouseandsmackHelena.Idon’tknowthissisterbeingrevealedtome,butIlovehermorefiercelythaneverbefore.IfinallyaskthequestionthathasbotheredmesinceIlanded.“WhydoesHelenadislikehersomuch?”
Lukasrubshishandoverhisforehead.Whenhefacesme,helooksdefeated.“Ihonestlydonotknow.Sylviewassuchagoodgirl.”
Thewaitressappears,armsladenwithplatesoffoodthatsmellheavenly.Despitemydoubts,IfeelbrighterfromEstelle’sreassuranceandfindmyappetitehasreturned.Myuitsmijterisanopen-facedsandwichcomposedofthreeslicesofthickwhitebread,sunny-side-upeggs,andathinlayerofhamandtomatoes,allsmotheredinmeltedGoudacheese.Lukashastwokrokets,breaded,deep-friedcylindricalrollswithacreamymeatragoutfilling,servedwithmustardandwhitebuns.IamabitdubiousaboutEstelle’sfiletamericainsandwich,whichshetellsmeisacrunchyfresh-bakedwholewheatbaguettespreadwithrawmincedbeefandspices.
AsItuckintomyfood,Isay,“WhenIwaslittle,shesavedmefrombeingkidnappedonce.”
“No,”breathesEstelle.
Lukaspauseswithhiskrokethalfwaytohismouth.“Whathappened?”
“Iwasfouryearsold.Pawashomebuthewasbusyfixingthelockonourfrontdoor,andIguessImusthavedecidedImissedMaandwantedtogofindherbymyself.Whenhewenttograbsometoolsfromanotherroom,Ileftourapartmentandtoddleddownstairsandoutontothesidewalk.Sylviemusthavebeenonlyabouteleventhen,butshewastheonewhofiguredoutIwasmissing.SheflewofftofindmebeforePaevenhadhisshoeson.Whenhefinallycaughtuptousatthecornerdownthestreetfromourplace,Sylviehadputherselfbetweenmeandastrangeman.Iwaswearingthisgoldnecklacewithacarppendant.He’dgrabbeditwhenSylviepushedmeawayfromhim.Hepulleditoffmyneckandran.Weneverfoundoutifhewasonlyafterthejewelryorifhe’dwantedmetoo.”Ishivered.Ihadnightmaresforyearsaboutthesharpanglesofthatman’sface,howSylviepushedmebehindher,howI’dclungtoher,hidingmyfaceinherfamiliarsoftstrandsofhair.I’dwakecryingandSylviewouldpullgentlyonmyearsandnose,andrecitetherhymeMahadtaughtus,oneofthefewChinesephrasesIhadmanagedtolearn:“Pinchtheears,pinchthenose,wakeup,wakeup.LetBeautifulJasminebeasbraveasagrownwoman.”
“WasSylviehurt?”Lukasasks.Heappearsrivetedbymystory.Iwarmtohimagain.Maybehetrulydoescareformysister.
Ishakemyhead.“Yourfoodwillgetcold.”
“Youneverreplacedthenecklace,”Estellesays,glancingatmyunadornedneck
“MaandPawereafraidto.Theydidn’twanttomakeeitheroneofusatarget.Thefunnythingis,weweargoldorjadeforprotection,somaybethatnecklacesavedmefromthatman.”ButIknowthetruth.Sylvierescuedme.Andnowit’smyturntorescueher.
Isetmyflappingnapkinunderneathmysaucertostopitfromblowingaway.IturntoLukasagain.“CanyoutellmewhatSylvie’shusbandwasdoinghere?”
Lukasissmearinghiskroketwithmustard.“Noidea.”Nowhetakesabigbite.
Ipinchmylipstogether.Okay,heisreallyirritatingafterall.Itakeadeepbreathtocalmmyself.“DidSylvieseemupsetbyit?”
Hescratcheshishead.“Kindof.Icannotsay.”
IrollmyeyesatEstelle,andthenleavetofindtherestroom.Icrossthestreettoenterthecaféitself.Ineedamomenttoadjustafterthebrightsunlightandseethattheinterioriscozyandwarm,paneledwithdarkbrownwood.AsIpass,Istoptofeeloneofthepricklyminiatureembroideredrugsthatarelyingonthetablesasplacemats.Ispotawaitressmakingacappuccinobehindthebar,soIaskher,“WherecanIfindthepowderroom?”Whensheblinksatme,Isay,“Thebathroom?”
“Ah,thetoilet.Itisattheback,totheleft.”
IopenthedoortothetinybathroomandamconfrontedwithastatueofBuddha.Hesitsonashelfbehindthetoilet.
“Iamsosorryyouhavetolivehere,”Isaytohim.
WhenIreturntothetable,ItellEstelleandLukasaboutwhatIhaveseen.“ToaChineseperson,it’sverydisrespectfulbecausewebelievetheBuddhaactuallyinhabitsthestatuewhenhecomestovisit.”
“Well,mybrotherhastheVirginMaryinhistoilet,”Estellesays.
“TotheDutch,itisjustlikeaprettyplateoracarvingofayin-yangsymbolorsomething.”Lukassoundsresigned.
Isayinasmallvoice,“Everything’ssodifferenthere.I-Idon’tknowwhyIcameorhowIcouldpossiblyhelpSylvie.She’salwaysbeenthebrave,competentone.Iwasplanningtoleaveinafewdays.”Islumpinmychair.“Stupid,right?ApartofmethoughtthatifIcamehere,shewouldshowupandwecouldflyhometogether.”BecauseSylviewouldneverletmebelost,alone,andafraidinaforeigncountry.Forthefirsttime,IwonderwhatitmusthavebeenlikeforhertobeuprootedandmovetotheUnitedStates,toactasbabysitterandmothertoatwo-year-oldtoddlerwhenshewasachildherself.
ThefleshonLukas’sfacesags.Hiseyesarerimmedwithred.“Staylonger,Amy.Sylviewouldwantyouto.”
ThethoughtofreturninghomewithoutSylviemakesmewanttocry.“Willthatbeallrightwithyourparents?”
Estelle’seyesflash.“No,donotthinklikethat.Screwwhateveryoneelsethinksofyou,screwwhattheywantfromyou.Yougooutthereandyoudowhatyouneedtodo,whateverthatmightbe.Peoplethinkbeingapilotisglamorous,butwhenIusedtoflycargo,alotoftimestherewasnotevenatoiletintheplane.Themalepilotspeedintoabottle,soIdidtoo.Youjustdowhatisnecessary—peeinabottleifyouneedto.”
Wealllaughatthis.SomethinginsidemelightensforamomentandIstopfeelingsoalone.LukasandEstelleloveSylvietoo.Maybeeverythingwillturnoutallright.
Estellereachesacrossthetableandgivesmyhandawarmsqueeze.“Listen,LukasandIneedtovisitmymother.Heishelpinghersetuphernewdigitalcamera.Butletmegiveyoumynumberandifyoueverneedsomeonetotalkto,youletmeknow.”
Ipasshermyphoneandwatchasshestoreshercontactinformation.Thenweleavethetableandheadtowardthebicyclerack.
LukasrubshiseyesandIglanceupathim,wonderingifhecouldbebrushingawayatear.Thereispureanguishonhisface,thoughIcan’tdecipherthereasonforit.Hedragshishandsthroughhiswildhair.“CanyoumakeithomebyyourselforshallIbikewithyoufirst?”
“Ohno,it’sreallysimple.I’llbefine.”Idon’twanthimtoaccompanymebecauseI’mplanningtowalkthewholeway.“Weshouldaskforthebill.”
Estellewavesahand.“Wetookcareofitwhenyouwereinside.JustgetbacksafeanddonotworryaboutSylvie.Iamsuresheisallright.”
From:JimBatesTo:AmyLeeSent:Friday,May6Subject:BillsHeyAmy,HaveyouheardanythingfromSylvie?Istoppedbytheapartmentafterwespokeandwasprettyshockedbythestateofit.Shehasn’tpaidanybillsatallsinceIleft.Ialsocan’tbelievethecreditcardbillsshe’srackedup.Everythingisinastateoflimbo,especiallynowthatshe’smissing.Whatthehellisgoingon?IneedtotalktoSylvieassoonaspossible.Therearethingsweneedtostraightenout.Ideservesomeexplanationstoo.JimFrom:AmyLeeTo:JimBatesSent:Friday,May6Subject:RE:BillsJim,there’sbeennowordfromSylvieandIwasjusttoldyouwerehereintheNetherlands.Whydidn’tyoutellme?DidyouseeSylvie?Howdidsheseem?Whenwasthelasttimesheusedhercreditcard?That’sveryimportantbecauseitcantellusalotaboutwhatshe’sbeendoingandifshe’sokay.Please,ifthere’sanyinformationatallyoucouldsharewithus?Itmighthelpusfindher.From:AmyLeeTo:JimBatesSent:Saturday,May7Subject:RE:BillsJim,didyougettheemailIsentyoubelow?It’sreallyurgentthatyourespond.IknowyouguyswerehavingsomeproblemsbutI’msureyoucanworkthingsout.Ifyouwon’ttalktome,atleastletthepoliceknowwhatyousaw.Justpleasetellmeifshe’susedhercreditcardrecently.From:AmyLeeTo:JimBatesSent:Sunday,May8Subject:RE:BillsJim?You’renotansweringmycallsandyou’renotrespondingtotheseemails.Justdropmealine,anythingyouknowmighthelp,we’redesperate,okay?Please.Jim,please.Chapter15
Sylvie
Saturday,April9
Lukas’sfriendFilipsaidhecouldgivemeasamplelessonrightaway,sothenextmorning,LukastookmetomeethiminAmsterdam.Thistime,werodeonLukas’sblackVespascooter.Itfeltgoodtohaveanexcusetowrapmyarmsaroundhiswaist,thesmellofhisleatherjacketinmynostrils,thesteadypurrofthemotorunderneathme.Thetemperaturehaddroppedsinceyesterdayandwepassedpedestriansbundledupintheirbulkycoatsagain.Asthechillywindwhippedagainstmyolivehoodedjacket,Iclosedmyeyesandfelttheairpromisemerain.
Whenwepassedfromtree-linedviewsofthewaterwaysintothesteadystreamofbicycles,trams,andautosinAmsterdam,Ifeltlikeaheroineinamovie.ThecityexudedthatsamesenseofwildfreedomandpossibilityofNewYork,butinagentlerway.Afatherwovethroughtheredlightdistrictonacargobikefilledwithtwotinychildren.Abeautifulwomantalkingonhermobilestrodepastaconstructionsitewithoutreceivingasinglecatcall.Lukasstoppedasatramswervedinfrontofus,thenhemaneuveredthroughthenarrowbrickstreetsuntilweturnedontotheBrouwersgracht,oneofthemostbeautifulroutesinAmsterdam.Icouldfeelthemusclesofhisbodyshiftashenavigatedtheturns.
Itwassobeautifulandpeacefulhere,asifnothingcouldeverbewrongwiththeworld.Gracefulseventeenth-centuryresidencesedgedthewidecanalandliving-boatsbobbedinthewater.Hereandthere,potsofcrocusesanddaffodilsbloomedanddottedthestreet.Ilovedflowers,thoughIcouldnevermanagetokeepthemalive.Oneliving-boatlookedlikeapirateship,completewithanupturnedredprow,whileitsneighborresembledarectangulartraincar,paintedblueandwhite.LukasparkedhisVespabesidethisoneandwewalkedpastatinygardenonthewatersideofthestreet.
Aswesteppedontothericketywoodenwalkwaythatconnectedustotheliving-boat,LukassawIwasbitingmylipandreachedoutahandtosteadyme.Ialwaysfeltvulnerableoverwater,andLukasnoticedthis.IrecalledthelastcocktailpartyJimandIhadattendedtogether,theonemyengagementmanager,Martin,hadhosted—adrunkenMartinstandingtooclosetome,casuallyrestinghishandonthebareskinbetweenmycollarboneandmyneckunderthepretenseofhavingtoyellinmyeartobeheardthroughthebabbleofvoicesaroundus,andmelookingforJim,spottinghimchattingwithabunchofmenafewmetersaway,tryingtosignalmydistress.Jimonlywavedandraisedaglasstomeinasilenttoast.Hemusthavecompletelymissedthesexualconnotations.
WewalkedontotheboatandLukasrangthedoorbell.Afterafewmoments,thedooropened.Ohmygoodness.Itookahalfstepback.Thediminutive,paleboyIbarelyrememberedhadgrownintothis?FilipwasaboutthesameheightasLukas,exceptleaner,withbroadshouldersandanarrowwaist.Hishairfellindark,croppedwavesacrosshisforehead.Chiseledjawwithadeepdimpleinthemiddle.Intense,intelligenteyesthecoloroftheDutchskyflickeredoverme,assessingmeuntilhisthinlips—sensual,abitcruel—quirkedinahalfsmile.IrealizedIhadcoveredmymouthwithmyhandandloweredit.Lukaswaswatchingmewithhisbrowfurrowed,onehandrubbinghisneck.Hehadnotmissedmyreactioneither.HeandFilipgreetedeachother,andthenFilipshookmyhand:ahardgrip,determinedandunrelenting,withcallusesonhisthumbandperhapsoneofthefingers.
ThenFilipsteppedasidetoletusin.Igraspedthedoorframewithonehandastheboatswayedgently.Wewerestandinginasmallkitchenwithalargesilverrefrigerator.Asinkandafancyespressomachinesatunderneathabrightwindow.Thesmellsofoliveoilandspicesperfumedtheair,andnowIsawthataneatrowofherbsandagarlandofdriedgarliclinedtheshelves,alongsidepatternedceramicplatesthatlookedliketheymightbeArmenian.Sohecookedtoo.Orwashemarried?Iquicklycheckedbothofhishands—here,theCatholicstendedtoweartheirweddingringsontheirlefthandsandtheProtestantsontheirright—butIfoundnoringatall.Interesting.HeandLukascontinuedchattingtoeachotherbutIcaughtbothmenglancingatmewhentheythoughtIwasn’tlooking.
ThedoortomyrightwasclosedandIimagineditledtohisbedroom.Wesqueezedthroughthenarrowhallwayontheleft,practicallybumpingintooneanotherinthecrampedspace,andsteppedintoalonglivingroomthatwasfloodedwithlight.Icaughtmybreath.Whataview.Anexpanseofwaterallaroundus,thewavesrippling,whileseagullsflewoverhead,cawing,sparklinginthesunlightlikejewelsbeforelandingonthearchedstonebridgethatspannedthecanal.Inthedistance,stormcloudsgathered.
Filipstoodbesideme,butinsteadofgazingoutthewindow,hewasexaminingmewithhisvivid,lucenteyes.“Sylvie.My,youhavegrownup.”
Arushofheatsweptupwardfrommyneck.“Iwasjustthinkingthesameaboutyou.AlthoughImustadmitIdonotrememberyouverywell.”
Hebenthisheadtowardmetosayinahushedvoice,“Youareveryclearinmymemories.”Istaredupathimasifmesmerized.Whatdidhemean?Didheremembertheawkward,homelygirlIhadbeen?“Letusmeasureyourhandtoseehowlargeyourcelloneedstobe.”
Heheldmyrighthanduptohisleftone,palmtopalm,fingertofinger—histaperedonesfarlongerthanmyown.Wasthatanothercallusonthesideofhisthumb?ThenLukasgrabbedmywristandpulledmyhandawayfromFilip.
“Ho,ho.Enoughofthis.”Lukas’ssmilesaidhewaskiddingbuttherewasanintenselookinhiseyes.HeturnedtofaceFilipandtappedhimonthechest.“Cellolessons,nothingelse.Youkeepawayfrommybeautifulcousinwiththatdeadlycharmofyours.”
LukasthoughtIwasbeautiful.Ichuckledatthis,charmedbyhisprotectiveinstincts,thoughmyskinstilltingledwhereFiliphadtouchedme.“Youhavenothingtoworryabout.Iammarried.”Then,whenFiliparchedaninquiringeyebrowatme,Ipulledatthecollarofmyshirt.“Separated.Iamseparated.”
NowLukas’seyebrowsroseevenhigher.“Sylvie,heisasinfamousasamottleddogwithabluetail.Thegirlsinourhighschoolranafterhim,eventhefemaleteacherswerecaptivatedbyhim,nottomentionallthosefanshepicksupathisconcerts.Alwayskeepaninstrumentbetweenyoutwo,youhearme?”
FilipbattedhiseyesatLukas.“Oh,Iwouldlovetokeepmyflutebetweenus.”
IlaughedasFilipslunganarmaroundLukasandshepherdedhimbacktothefrontdoor.“Wewillbehave.Comebackinanhourtopickherup.”
Iheardthedoorclosebehindhim,andthenFilipcalled,“Justamoment,Sylvie.IwantedtoseehowlongyouwereandthesizeofyourhandsbeforeIchoseacelloforyou.Iwillgetitnow.”
IcouldstillseeLukasonthesidewalk,unlockinghisVespaandcraninghisnecktopeerinthroughthewindowbeforedrivingoff.Ifeltfluttersinmystomach,whetherfromanticipationornerves,Iwasnotsure.IwasnowalonewiththestunningcellistandIhadneverbeenanygoodatmusicor,indeed,anyofthearts.CreativityrequiredaleapoffaithIwasunwillingtomake.Iwalkedaroundtheuprightpianoagainstthewallandsettledintooneofthetwochairs.Theysatfacingeachother,alongsidetwocellostands.Onestandcradledanantiqueinstrument,thewoodburnishedandscarred.
Bymysidewasthewindowsill,whereanashtrayandarowofphotosstood.Filipinadivingsuit,abrightorangeoxygentank,hislashesspikedwithwater.Ah,ayellowedphotooftheboyIremembered,probablyaboutsixyearsold,sunburned,wearingonlyathinwhiteundershirt,holdingachild-sizeviolinunderhischin,playingbarefootonarockybeach—andthenanotherofanadultFilipwithalittleblondgirl,aroundsevenyearsold.Shehadhisforeheadandeyes,andtheybothstuckouttheirtonguesatthecamera.
“Mydaughter,”hesaidfromthedoorway,holdinganewercelloinhishands.
Irefrainedfromaskingifhewasstillmarried.“Sheisverycute.Andthisphoto,thiswasyou,right?Irememberedyouplayingtheviolin.”
“Yes,thatwastakenwhilewewereonholidayonTenerife.”Hestrodeoverandplacedthecelloinmystand,thenseatedhimselffacingme.
Itentativelystrokedtheshinywoodenneckwithmyfinger.“Whydidyouswitchovertocello?”
“Iheardoneataconcertandafterthat,itwasallIwanted.Ibeggedmyparentstoletmetakelessons.”Hemaintainedhisdistancenowandhistonewasfriendlybutprofessional.SotheflirtinghadbeenforLukas.Itwasalwayseasiertoplayatlovewhenthereweresafelimits.Avoicewhisperedinmymind,Hesawtherealyouwhenyouwereyounger,Sylvie.Whywouldhewantyounow?Mychesttightenedandaheavinessdescendedoverme.
Hestartedtuningourcellos.Thedeeptonesranglikeahumanvoice,singingitsdarkestsecrets,startlingme.Thefloorshiftedasaboatpassed,rockedbythewaves.Igazeduponhim,anothermanIhadknownasaboy,hisperfectprofileimpenetrable,buthishands—whattendernessandpainflowedfromthosehands—andjustthis,agiftedmusiciantuninghiscello,begantounburdenmyheart.HowJimhadlovedmeonceand,sohelpme,howIlovedhimstill.Theskyoutsidegrewdimandrainbegantopatteragainsttheroof.
HepausedandIquicklydashedahandacrossmycheek,wonderinghowmuchmyexpressionhadrevealed.Heclosedhiseyesand,insteadofcontinuinghistask,playedaslowpiece,filledwithallthelongingandunrequitedloveIfelt.Ileanedmyheadbackinmychairandletthemelodyswirlthroughme.Iambroken,thecellosaid.Iamlost
Whenhestopped,hisfacerevealednoneoftheemotioninhismusic.Hegavemeatinycurtnod,andsaid,“Spreadyourlegs.”
Igulped.“What?”
Hecameovertome,pulledmeforwardsoIwassittingontheedgeofmychair,thenspreadmythighswidewithaboldhandontheinsideofeachknee.Iwasstillgaspingasheswungthecelloinbetweenmylegs.“Begladyouarenotwearingadress.IforgottomentionittoLukasandsometimeswomencomeinthesetightskirts,whichcancausequiteaproblem.Itisalsogoodyoudonothaveoverlylargeboobs.”
Iwasstillstaringatmychestwhenheplacedthebowinmyrighthandandshowedmehowtoholdit.“First,wewillstartwithplayingtheloosestrings.Onlythebow,nolefthand.Followme.WewillstartwithA.”
HesatbackdownandplayedalongnoteononestringandItriedtodothesame.Werepeatedthisseveraltimes,playingA,A,A,A,D,D,thecellovibratingthroughmybones.
Hesighed.“Thecellopicksupeverythingyouarefeelinginyourbody,andyouareastenseasacane.Closeyoureyes.”
Ididashedirectedandfeltthecoldcominginthroughthefloorboards.Isuppressedashiver,imaginedtheicywaterbeneathourfeet.Hisvoicewasstrongandresonant.“Letyourshouldersandhandshang.Thatisit.”
WhenIopenedmyeyesandtriedtoplay,itsoundedbetterbutnotenoughtosatisfyhim.Filipwenttothekitchenandreturnedwithaceramicbowlfilledwithwater.Hecameover,pickedupmyrighthand,andplaceditinsidethebowl.Thewaterwaswarm,hisfingerslightagainstmywrist.Thisclosetohim,Icaughtawhiffofsmokeandbergamot.“Doesthatfeelgood?”
Inodded.
“Now,takeoutyourhandandflickthedropletsoff.Asyoudothat,imagineallofyourtensionfallingawaywiththewater.Verygood.”Thenhegentlydriedmyhandwithasmallcloth,massagingeverydigit,andplacedthebowinbetweenmyloosenedfingers.“Holditlightly,donottenseup.Nowyouareready.”
AndwhenIbegan,forthefirstfewmomentsIcouldhearthedifference,butthenIstartedtostiffen.Iwaslearningthatthiswasmynaturalstate:stressed.Hisspinewasrigid,bracinghimagainstthesoundsImade,thoughhisexpressionremainedneutral.Outside,lightningflashedastherainturnedintoadownpour,splatteringagainstthesundeck.
Iwincedandlaiddownthebow.Icouldnotdothistohimanylonger.“Thismustbetortureforyou.Ishouldstop.”
Hecameandkneltbeforemeononekneesowewereface-to-face,hiseyesintent.Helaidahandonmyarm.“Ohno.Youhaveonlyjustbegun,Sylvie.Thatiswhyitiscalledaninstrument.Itisatoolforyoutoexpresswhateveryouwant,goodorbad.”
“Imustbefilledwithbadness,then,”Imuttered,smilingalittle.Ileanedtowardhim.Ihadasuddenwilddesiretolaymycheekagainsthis.Herewasamanwhounderstoodheartbreak.Herewasamanwhoalsoknewwhatitmeanttobedevastated,andwhosomehowkeptitallcontained.Ipulledmyselfbackandsearchedforareasontokeephimtalking.“Isyourdaughtermusicaltoo?”
Heglancedoverattheirphototogether.“Ohno.Zo?’spassioniscompetitivealpineskiing,whichhappenstobeaveryexpensivesport.Myex-wifeisamusicianaswellandbetweenthetwoofus,wecanbarelymanagetoaffordit.”Hestood.Iblinkedbackmydisappointment.“Ourtimeisalmostup.Whydoyounottakethecellohomesoyoucanpracticeandnottormentmesomuchnexttime?”
“Youwouldlendmeyourcello?”
Heshruggedandpulledoutahardcellocasefromaslidingcabinetbeneaththewindow.“ThisisacheaperonethatIrentouttostudentssometimes.Youcannotimproveifyoudonotpractice.”
Asheflippedopenthelidofthecase,Ieyedthehugeinstrument.Iwasnotsubstantiallytallerthanit.“Idonothaveacarhere.”
Hebentdowntoplacethecelloandbowinside.Thecasewasmostlyblack,withstreaksofdarkbluerunningthroughitlikeariver.Twopaddedstrapsonthebackallowedittobecarriedlikeabackpack.“Noproblem.Itakemineonmybicycleallthetime.”
Iwavedahandathislonglegs,themuscledarms.“ButyouareDutch.”PeoplecartedChristmastreesontheirbicycleshere,balancedonthesteeringbar.
“Soareyou.”Hestoodandsetthecaseupright.“Yourestthatonyourbaggagerackonthebackofyourbikeandyouwillbeallset.”Thedoorbellrang.Filiphandedthecellotome.“Yourchauffeurishere.”
Istaggeredabittogetthecellothroughthetinyhallwayandintotheentryway.ThewholethingwasheavierthanIthought.FiliphadthedooropenandLukasstoodtheredrenched,drippingontothetilefloor.Dropletsrolledoffhishairandtracedthelineofhisjaw.Behindhim,atorrentofrainfellasthunderboomed.
IaskedFilip,“WhenshouldIcomeback?Iamonlyhereafewweeksatmost.”Nowthatourlessonwasover,Iwaslikesomeonewhohadsmokedopiumforthefirsttime.Ididnotwanttoseehimagain;itwasaneed.Ifeltlighter,looser,andsomethingabouthimorourlessonhaddonethatforme.
FilipglancedatLukas,thenbentandgavemethreedeliberate,lingeringkissesonmycheeks.Thecharmingplayboyhadreturned.“Asoftenasyoulike,”hedrawled.“Comeeveryday.”
Lukastookthecasefrommeandscowled.“DoIneedtohitthisguywithmycameraforyou?”
“Itwouldbeeasiertousethecello.”IgaveFilipaslowwinktoshowIwassophisticatedandunaffectedbyhim.“Butitisnotnecessary.Whenheflirts,itisnothingpersonal.”
IwasunpreparedfortheflashofpainonFilip’sfaceorthewayLukasflusheddarkredtotherootsofhishair.Hadtherebeensomeotherwomanbetweentheminthepast?Someonetheytrulyloved?
Lukasswungthecaseoveroneshoulderandturnedonhisheeltoleave.“Yes,thathasbeenmyexperience.”
Withthecellostrappedtomyback,theVespascootercaughtsomuchwindthat,attimes,itseemedlikewewouldtakeflight.TheDutchcalledthisdogweather.Aboveus,theheavensopenedwhilehardgustsofrainsentrivuletsofcoldwaterdownmyback.TheshiftingaircurrentscaughtthebroadinstrumentatanangleandLukasswervedtoavoidasuddenbicyclist.Blindedbystrandsofmyhairinthewhippingwind,Iwasbarelyabletostayseated,clingingtoLukaswithallmymight.Myshouldersachedfromtheweight.Whenwefinallyarrivedatthehouse,Idismountedandtriedtoraceinsidetogetoutofthestorm.ButeventhoughIwasfairlytall,thecellostillhitmeatmid-calf,soIcouldonlytaketiny,mincingsteps.
Onceinside,Lukasstifledaguffawatmyhalf-drownedappearance.WaterdrizzledfromusbothontoHelena’smarbletiles.Hetookthecaseoffmyshoulders,thenremovedmyjacketandhungitovertheradiatortodry.Iproppedonearmagainstthewallandbenttopulloffmysoakedshoes.WhenIstraightened,locksofmywethairwereplasteredtomyface.
Lukasreachedoverandgentlycradledmyjawandcheekbonesinhislargewarmhands.Hetuckedeachlockofhairbehindmyearswithhisthumbs.Myeyelidsflutteredclosed.Hebentdownandpressedatenderkisstomyforehead.
WhenIopenedmyeyesagain,hehadalreadyturnedaway.“Iwilltakeyourcelloupstairsforyou,”hemumbled,leavingmestaringathisretreatingback.
Laterthatevening,afterIhadchangedintodryclothing,Iheardthedoordownstairsclickclosed.Lukaswasback.Allofasudden,itseemedmoreattractivetopracticeinthelivingroomratherthanthelonelyattic.
“Hey,Lukas,isthatyou?”Icalled.
“Comedownandjoinme,”hesaid.
Itriedtowalkdownstairswiththecellocaseonmyback,butitkepthittingthestairdirectlybehindme,causingmetolurchforward.ImadeitdownoneflightandsawLukasstandingatthebaseoftheotherstaircase,waitingforme,chucklingatmypredicament.Iwasthree-quartersofthewaywhenthecelloslammedintothestairbehindmeagainandIstartedtotumble.
“Whoa!”Hespannedmywaistwithhishandsandswungme,celloandall,offthestairs.Hecarefullysetmedownonthefloor.
OnceIcaughtmybreath,webothdoubledoverwithlaughter.
“Areyouallright?Howmanytimesaweekareyoutakinglessonsagain?”Lukasgasped.
“Everyweekday,”Isaid,giggling.“Unlessthisthingkillsmefirst.”
“Icouldbringyou.”
“Yeah,right.”Isnorted,thinkingofourwildridehome.Oursoakedjacketsstillhungfromtheradiator,thoughthefloortilesweredry.LukasmusthavemoppedafterIwentupstairs.“FilipsaidIcouldbicyclewiththatmonster.Hemadeitsoundverysimple.”
“Ihatethatguy.Youneedtorentacar.”
“Ineedtorentacar,”Irepeated.Luckily,mycreditcardstillworked.Jimwasprobablypayingourbills.IsoberedasIthoughtofhim.Hadhebeenbacktoourapartment?Washewithher?Ipicturedher,waitingoutsidehisofficeforhim.Theysaweachothereveryday.Ichewedonmyinnercheek.Therewasanacheinthebackofmythroatanditwasdifficulttoswallow.HowcouldIhatehimandstillwishheweremine?Thelasttimewespoke,he’dbeensoangrywithme,asifIweretheonewhohaddonesomethingwrong.Ihadneverpaidattentiontohisuglysidebefore,despitethathorribledrunkennightatPrinceton.Myeyeshadbeenfirmlyclosedtoit,idiotthatIwas.
“Sylvie?”Lukastouchedmeonmyforearm.“Youseemfaraway.”
“Itisnothing.”Iplacedmyhandoverhisfingersandgavethemanaffectionatesqueeze.“Iamgladyousuggestedthis.IthinktheselessonswithFiliparetrulygoingtohelp.”
Fivedayslater,theweatherwaswarmandclear,perfectforaburglary.IthaddrizzledinthenightasIlayinmybed,staringattheceilingforhours,worryingthatIsawoulddecidenottotakeGrandmaforherdailywalk.However,IknewtheDutch.Noamountofrain,sleet,orsnowstoppedthem.
Wehadplanneditcarefully.Earlythatmorning,beforeIsaarrived,Grandmapulledmetowardherbythesleevesoshecouldwhisper,“Whenyourideatiger,youmustnottrytogetoffhalfway.”
Itwasstilldarkoutsideandthefearofadownpourmademeextraprickly.Irolledmyeyes.“Iknow,Grandma.WhydoyoutwothinkIcannotbeagoodthief?”TheyneededLukastohelpGrandmanavigatethestairssafely,soIhadtoplaytheburglar.
Lukas,standingbyGrandma’sbedwithhisarmscrossed,switchedintoDutchsoGrandmacouldnotunderstandhim.“Whenitcomestobeingnaughty,youareafloppydickinrosewater.Letmedoit.”
Iraisedmyvoice.“No,IdonotwantGrandmatofall.Icanstandstronginmyshoes.”
“Sssst!Myparentswillhear.”Heblewoutanoisybreath.“IsatookheroutalonebeforeIcamehome.”
“Grandmawasstrongerthen,”Ihissed.
Hesaidslowly,enunciatingeachwordasifIwerefeebleminded,“Youhavetomakeitreal.”
GrandmasaidsweetlyinhermelodiousChinese,“Whenthesandpiperandtheclamopposeeachother,itisthefishermanwhobenefits.”
Asone,LukasandIprotested,“Wearenotfighting.”
“Fart!”shesaid.Great,nowevenGrandmacalledmeonmybullshit.
AfterHelenaandWillemleftfortherestaurant,Ipretendedtogotomydailycellolesson,thenparkedtherentalcaronanotherstreetandreturnedviathebackdoor,whichIhadleftajar.However,thisdoorwasnormallylockedandrequiredakey—concealedinthekitchendrawer—toopenit,sowedecidedtomakeitseemasiftheburglarhadenteredandexitedfromthefrontdoor,whichoftendidnotcloseproperlyanywaywithoutahardpush.SincewedidnotwanttogetIsaintrouble,Lukasmadesurehewastheonetoleavethefrontdoorunlocked.Theneighborswerealwayswatching.LastMonday,Helenahadn’topenedthedrapesearlyinthemorningandthewomanacrossthestreetrangus.“Itwassostrange,Iwantedtomakesureyouwereallokay.”SoIstayedhiddeninsidethehouse,myheartleapinginmythroatasifIwerearealcriminal,untilIheardtheslow,creakysoundsofLukas,Grandma,andIsaleaving.
ThenIclimbedthestairswithgloveson,likeathieffromamovie.Ifeltcompletelyridiculous,asoutofplaceasacatinadogkennel.Myprintswereallovertheroomanyway,notthattheywouldbothertofingerprintforsuchapettycrime.Stayingoutofsightofthewindows,IrummagedthroughGrandma’sthingsandpulledeverythingoutofthecloset.Wehadtakenthejewelryafewdaysago.BeforeIleftherroom,IquicklybowedtothealtartoKuanYinandapologizedforthemess.
ButshewhosaysAmustalsosayB,soIwentintothebedroomofHelenaandWillemandexamineditwiththeeyesofahoodlum.Thiswasmychancetowreaksomerevenge.IcouldhurtHelenaforachange.Whatwouldapettythieftake?WhatdidIwant?Iscannedthescatteredevidenceoftheirrelationship,accumulatedyearafteryearlikethebulkyringsofatree.Iftherewasamaptotheirhearts,itwouldbehereintheirbedroom.IrememberedhowWillemandHelenawouldsometimesgoforbikeridestogetherontheirfreedays:“justliketheDutch,”Helenalikedtosay.Shelovedhim,Iwassureofit.AndWillem?Hecertainlyneededherandherfamily’smoney—perhapsneedcastsevenstrongerchainsthanlove.
HowcouldIpossiblyunderstandWillemandHelenawhenIhadnogripontherelationshipbetweenmyownmaandpa?TheyhadnothingpersonalintheirtinybedroombackinNewYork.Theyneverwenttodinnertogether,nevercuddledinfrontofthetelevision.Thosehorriblefightsthey’dhadwhenwewerelittle,whenPawouldgetdrunkandcallMaawhoreandaliar.Butstill,therewastendernesswhentheylookedateachother,thoughitwasquicklyhiddenawayagain.MastayeduplatemendingPa’sworkgloves.PaputthechoicestpiecesofabaloneinMa’sricebowl.Anoceanoflove,guilt,anddutysurgedbackandforthbetweenthem,strokingboththeirheartsevenasitkeptthemapart.
TherewerenophotosorbooksinHelenaandWillem’sbedroomeither.Instead,avaseoffakeflowers,Helena’sjewelrycase,acollectionofexpensivetiesinthecloset.AfewofLukas’schildishdrawingshungincheapframes.Ashelffilledwithcomplexmodularorigamifiguresmadefromtinybitsoffoldedpaper.Isteppedovertoexaminethedesignsmoreclosely:agreen-and-whitepeacockwithitsmagnificenttailunfurled,adragonboat,anorange-and-whitemodelofCouscous.Whatdiditmean?AmugthatreadWORLD’SBESTMAMA.HadInotsavedmypocketmoneyandboughtthatforHelena,allthoseyearsago?Whyhadshekeptit?Awoman’sRolexwatch.Boughtforherself?AgiftfromWillem?ThemoreIsaw,thelessIunderstood.
Iwenttotheirdressertostealherjewelrycaseandmyeyeswerecapturedbymyownimageinthemirrorinstead.Foramoment,Iwaslittleagain,creepingintotheirbedafteranightmare.Sometimestheyletmestaythere,snuggleduptotheirwarmth.MoreoftenIwassentaway.YoumustnotdisturbGrandmainthenight.Youaretroubleenoughforheralldaylong.IwouldthensneakuptoLukas’sroomandfallasleepcurledonthefloorbesidehisbed,holdinghishandinmine.Ileanedclosertothemirrorandthereflectionofthewomaninherexpensiveclothingfadedaway.Therewasmyweakeye,alreadypullingtotheoutsidewiththestressoftheburglary,thestraininmylips,thefaketooththatwasabitlighterthanalltheothers,thedesperationetchedonmyface.Whoareyou,SylvieLee?Iwhisperedtomyself.
Intheend,burdenedbyguiltandindecision,Itooknothing.HowcouldIremovesomethingoftheirsandnevergiveitback?Lukas’svoice:Thatiswhatitmeanstostealsomething,Sylvie.Ithrewsomeoftheirclothingaroundandmadeamess.IknewIshouldstomponafewofWillem’sorigamisculptures,butthenIthoughtofhispleasureinthehobby,thewayhiseyesglowedwithhappinesswhenhefinishedacreation,andIcouldnotbeartodoit.Iwasaterrible,unbelievablethief,justasLukashadpredicted.Finally,Iwentdownstairsandsnuckoutviathebackdoor.Lukaswouldlaterlockitandhidethekeyagainwhenhereturned.
IwenttomycellolessonwithFilipforrealthistimeandbythetimeIreturned,thepolicewereatthehouse,alongwithanagitatedHelenaandWillem.IsetdowntheheavycaseinthehallwayandfollowedHelena’sshrillvoiceintothelivingroom,whereLukasandWillemwerebothleaningagainstthewalls,doingtheirbesttobeinvisible.LukasandIdidnotdaretomeeteachother’seyes
Theuniformedpoliceagent,asmall,tubbymanwithakindfaceandroundspectacles,turnedtomeasIsteppedintheroom.“Youmustbethedaughter.”HewavedapudgyhandatWillem.“Youcanalwaystellfamily.”
Weallfroze.NoneofusdaredtobreatheaswewaitedforHelena’sfury.PeoplehadalwaysassumedIwastheirchild,andHelenawouldfumeandsputterfordaysafterward.
Shesaidacidly,“JustbecausetheDutchthinkallAsianslookalikeisnoreasontobelieveweareallfamily.Sylvieisjustvisiting.”
IwasofcourserelatedtobothherandLukasbutfounditprudenttoremainsilent.
Thepoliceagentturnedaneggplantcolor.Hebumpedintothecupofcoffeebesidehimandalmostknockeditover.“Itcausesmeregret.Ididnotmean—”Hestoppedandstraightenedhisglasses,thenclearedhisthroatandreturnedtotryingtomakesenseoftheentirebizarresituation.“Sonothingwasstolen.”
“Afortunehasdisappeared,”saidHelena,hervoicerisingtoascreech.
“Aha,”hesaid,scratchinghisbaldinghead.“Doyouhaveanyphotosofthemissingjewelry?Insurancereports?”
Helena’smouthwasatightredline.“No.Grandmanevershowedittoussowedidnotofficiallyregisterit.”
Hepeeredathishandwrittennotes.“Thatistheelderlyladyupstairs?Sosheistheonlyonewhoknewaboutthismissingtreasure?”
“Isawittooonce,manyyearsago.”Helenagesturedatme.“SheusedtoletSylvieplaywithit,right?”
Alltheattentionintheroomturnedtome.Iactedconfused,tuggingatalockofmyhair.“Whathashappened?”
Willemfinallyspokeup.“Someonebrokeintothehouse.”
Igasped.“Ohno!”Ibroughtmyhandtomymouth,tryingtobethemurdererplayinginnocent.Acrosstheroom,Lukaswidenedhiseyesatme,signalingmetotoneitdown.“Iwasverylittlethen.Ihavenoideaifitwasrealorcostumejewelry.IdonotthinkGrandmawouldhaveletmeplaywithanythingvaluable.”
NowHelenanarrowedhereyes,asifturningthingsoverinhermind.Uh-oh.Didshesuspectme?Myheartstartedtorace,nearlyexplodinginmychest.Herheadtiltedlikeshewasmentallycatalogingtheevidence.
Lukasquicklychangedthesubject.Heseemedcalm.“Ishouldnothaveleftthefrontdoorajar.”
Willemthrewhishandsintheair.“Wehaveremindedyouahundredtimes,Lukas.Howcouldyoudothat?Youknowitsticks.Ithasbeenlikethatforyears.”
Lukascasthiseyesdownward,thepictureofregret.Healwaysseemedsoguileless;Ihadnoideahecouldbesuchagoodactor.“Thisisallmyfault.”
Helenareplied,“Leavehimalone.HehadenoughtodowithtakingcareofGrandma,herportableoxygentank,andherwheelchair.”Whyhadsheneverdefendedmelikethat?Ihadbeenachildunderhercaretoo,once.WhenIwaslittle,howmanytimesdidIdaydreamofHelenahuggingme,tellingmeIhaddonesomethingwonderful?
Thepoliceagentsaid,“Butthebackdoorwasleftopenaswell,correct?Ithasablindcovering,whichmeansitcannotbelockedorpickedfromtheoutside.Sothethiefenteredfromthefrontdoorandexitedthroughtheback.”
LukashadforgottentolockitafterIwasgone.Andsuchacrucialcluetoo.Thiswouldleadtheirsuspicionsdirectlytome.Couldnothinggorighttoday?Thehairliftedonmynapeandarms.
Helenatappedafingeragainsthertemple.“Itisstrangebecausethekeyisalwayshidden.Whatacleverthieftohavefoundthekeysoquickly.”
Shewasnotstupid.Icouldgotojail.Theairwasburstinginandoutofmylungs.Ijammedmyhandsintomyarmpitsinaself-hugandasked,“HowisGrandma?”Whatifallofthisexcitementhurther?
“Sheisasfineasyouwouldimagine,underthecircumstances.SheiswithIsa.Itwashardforthepolicetoquestionher,withherlimitedDutchandscatteredmemory.”Helenadeliberatelyloweredherheadtostareatme.Shegavemeafalsesmile.“Butsomethinglikethisissuchaviolation.Itisunforgivable.”Sheknew.Mylegswereshakingsomuch,theywouldallsee.Idraggedmysweatypalmsacrossmypantlegs.
ThenHelenaaskedwithforcednonchalance,“Howwasyourcellolessontoday,Sylvie?Isamentionedyouweregonealongtime.”
Ispokedespitethesourtasteinmymouth.“Fine.IstayedabitlongerforachatwithFilip.”
Lukas’sexpressiontightened.HecrackedhisknucklessoloudlyIjumped.“Oh?Doyoudothatoften?”
Hewasupsetwithmeaboutthis?Todayofalldays?“Sometimes.”IoftenstayedifFilipdidnothaveanotherstudentdirectlyafterward.IwoulddrinkEarlGreyteaorhisexcellentespressowhilehesmoked.
Theroundpolicemanshiftedhisweightfromonelegtotheother.“Soasidefromthejewelry,whichnooneexceptforGrandmahasseeninrecentyears,wasanythingelsetaken?”
“Isthatnotenough?”demandedHelena.
Meanwhile,Lukaswasfrowningatme,hislipcurled.BecauseIwashangingoutwithFiliporbecauseIhadbeenapoorthief?
“Iwillmakeareportofthesupposedmissingjewelry,butwithcashandjewelry,thereisaverylimitedamountyoucanclaimwithoutpreregistrationandproofofpossession.Youwillhavetoresolvethatwithyourinsurancecompany,”themansaid.
Weallknewwhattheinsurancecompanywouldsay.
Afterthepolicemanleft,Iasked,“IsGrandmaveryupset?”
Helena’seyeswerecoldandflinty.“Surprisingly,no.”
Thenextday,IwatchedasFilip’slong,capablefingerstunedhiscello,whichtomyeyeswasfaruglierthanmine.Ihadamoderninstrument,withawarmglowtothemaple.Thevarnishonhiscellowasunevenandburnedinsomeplaces.Itlookedlikeithadbeenwornthinbycenturiesofuse.Smallbubbleshadformedinthosespots,andthey’dfilledwithdirtovertheyears.IhadcometocherishthesemomentsasheconcentratedontuningandIcouldwatchhimunobserved:theintensityofhisfocusoneachstring,thegruntofsatisfactionhemadeinthebackofhisthroatwhenthetunewasjustright,thetextureofhisroughknucklesagainstthewood.Iwascompletelyunimportantthen;tohimIdidnotexist,andthisgavemethefreedomtoutterwhateverflewintomyhead.
Iasked,“WhathappensifIbreakyourcellobyaccident?Howmuchwoulditcost?”
HeslappedtheY-shapedmetaltuningforkagainsthisknee,andthensetitonthebridgeofhiscello.Helistenedtothehumofthenoteandthenadjustedthepegs.“Theoneyouareusing?Itisaninexpensiveone.Ithinkaroundthreethousandeuros.”
Mylipsparted.IwasgladIhadnotyetsucceededindroppingitdownthestairs.“Howmuchdoesthatoldthingofyourscost?”
“Fiftythousandeuros.”Hesmiledatmyincredulouslook.“ItwasmadebyCuypersin1767.Listentothesound.”Heplayedaquickmelodiousphrasethatsoundedlikesunlightshiningupongold.Behindhim,thewavesoutsidetookonthecolorofhisintenteyesandsliversofcloudscrownedhisfinelyshapedhead.Heliftedhisbowoffthestringsandthespellwasbroken.“ThiscellocostmeariboutofmybodybutIloveher.”
Hadheevercaredaboutanyonelikethat?Whatwoulditfeelliketohaveallthatintensityfocusedonme?Hewasthesortwholovedseldombutdeeply.Hewouldbefaithful,tothepointofbeingconsumedbyhispassion.Ishookmyhead,clearedmyunrulythoughts.“Youhaveexpensivetaste.”
Helookedrueful.“Yes,betweenmycompetitiveskierdaughterandmybeautifulinstruments,Ineedtofindapotofgoldsomewhere.”
Today,thewaterandskyhadmeldedintoasingleblueexpansethatcradledthetwoofusonhisboat,rockedbythewaves,submergedintheliquidvoiceofhiscello.Intothisintimacy,Isaid,“TherewasaburglaryatthehouseyesterdayandGrandma’sjewelrywasstolen.Itwasworthagreatdeal.”
Hecockedhishead,andmovedtotunethenextstring.“Oh?Whendidthathappen?”
“Duringherdailywalk.”
“Howcoincidental.”Heplacedhiscelloonhiscarvedwoodenstandandstartedonmine.
Ashestruckthetuningforkagainsthiskneeagain,Iasked,“Whatdoyoumean?”
Insteadofusingthefinetunersatthebottomofmycello,hefiddledwiththegiantpegsatthetopoftheneck.“GoodGod,Sylvie.Whathaveyoudonetothisthing?”Heshuddered.“Idonotknowhowitispossibleyoumadeitsooutoftuneinoneday.IamgladIdonotlivewhereyoupractice.”
Igrinned.“Irevelinimperfection.”IwaslearningfromLukastorelaxmystandards.ThenIaskedairily,“Butwhatdidyoumean,coincidental?”
Hewasstillmutteringtohimselfasheworkedbutpausedtosay,“Thattheyknewexactlytherighttime.Wasthejewelryjustlyingaround?”
“No,Ibelieveitwashidden.”ItracedtheembroideredvelvetofthechairwhereIsatwithmyindexfinger.
“Sotheyfounditquicklytoo.Soundslikeaninsiderwasinvolved.Sheisnotwell,right?Wastheresomesortofconflictoverwhowouldinheritit?Whowasshegoingtoleaveitto?”
Ifixedmyeyesontheupholstery.“Me.”Intwoseconds,hehadmadecleareveryweaknessinourplan.Irubbedmyhandovermyeyes.Intwomoreseconds,hewouldhavefiguredoutthewholething.Icastaboutforachangeofsubject.Ipointedtohisstand.Itwasengraved,andIaskedabruptly,“Isthatamenorah?”
“Yes.Mymothergavethattome.Iamsurprisedyouknowwhatitis.”
“IgrewupinNewYorkCity.ManyofmyfriendsareJewish.”
Filipfinishedtuningmycelloandbegantoplayamelancholypieceonit,alowaccompanimenttohiswords.Isensedthattalkingwhileplayingmadeiteasierforhimtoshare,justasmyownpainedmusicsomehoweasedmymind.“Thatisquitedifferentfromhere.Mostofushavebeenkilledorleftforothercountries.TheJewishcommunityhereissmallandveryawareofbeingsurvivors.DoyourememberthatkidRafaelfromourclass?”
“Thename,yes,butIcannotrecallaface.”
“Well,heusedtochasemeduringourlunchbreaks,yelling,‘Youstink,youdirtyJew.’”Filipsaidthisinasardonicway,asifrecitingastoryaboutsomeoneelse.
Irecognizedakindredspiritinhim.ItoocouldtalkaslongasIdidnotneedtoadmitthatanyofithadeverhurtme.“Fun.Someofthegirlsusedtocallmea‘poopChinese.’”
“Ohyes,therewasaphasewheneveryonewassayingthatontheelementaryschoolyard.Aswegrewolder,Lukasgotintotroubleforfightingtoo.TheywouldcallhimacuntAsianorafatsamurai,asifhewereeveroverweight.”
Mylipsflattened.Ididnotrememberthoseparticularinsults.ImusthavealreadybeengonethenandLukashadendureditalone.SomanyyearsIhadmissed.“Itislikepeoplebecomeblindandtheyjustyellthingsthathavenoconnectiontowhoyouare.”
Filipseguedseamlesslyintoasharp,fierymelody.Hislefthandflewfromstringtostring,trembling,asthebowrelentlesslysawedagainsttheinstrument,cuttingtheblazingmusicoutofthecellopiecebypiece.“MygrandfatherwaspartIndonesian.Duringthewar,hesatinacamprunbytheJapaneseand,totheendofhislife,wouldneverbuyaJapanesecar.MygrandmotherwashiddenhereinHolland,movedfromhousetohouse.Shewoundupkillingherself.Mymotherfoundthebody.”Thebowliftedoffthestringswithaflourish,andthenasoft,liltingrefrainbegan.Nothingtoseehere,itsaid.Nogrief.Norage.Justmoveon
Imademyvoiceascasualashisexpression.This,Irealized,waswhatattractedmetohim:hisneedtocontrolallhisdemons,towrapthemupandconfinethemneatlyinalockedcompartmentnevertobeopened.Still,thebeastswetriedtotuckawaywrithed,twisted,andwailedtobefree.“Itissadhowtraumagetspasseddownfromgenerationtogeneration.Helena,myownmaandpa:Theytaughtustokeepourheadslow,toholdoursecretsasclosedasanoyster.Keepourselvesapartfromeveryoneelse.Atacertainpoint,youwindupdividingyourselfinternallyintosomanydifferentpeopleyoudonotevenknowwhoyouareanymore.”
Filipstoppedplayingandlookedupatme.Foronce,hiseyeswerevulnerableandhisvoicefilledwithemotion.“Thatisitexactly.Mymothertoldmeeveryonewasanti-Semitic.Donotstickoutyourheadincaseitgetscutoff.Nevertrustanyoneoutsideofthefamily,whilethefamilyitselfwas,ofcourse,completelyuntrustworthy.Donotrevealwhatyouaretrulyfeelingorthinking.Nevershowwhoyouare.Shewantedmetobecomearabbi.”
Iaskedsoftly,“Andnow?”
“Shestillwantsmetobecomearabbi.”
Webothchuckled.Thenanawkwardsilencefelloverus.HerubbedhisjawandItwistedaloosebuttononmyshirt.Whenhefinallyspoke,histonewasbrisk.“Allright,letusdoacall-and-responseexercisenow.”
HeplayedD,A,D,A,AandIansweredwithA,A,A,D,D.Asweplayed,myinstrumentansweringhis,Ifeltasifourcelloswerespeakingtoeachother,likewewerestillcommunicating,onlywithoutwords.Ihadprogressedtoplayingnotesandsimplemelodies.Ifrowned,concentratingonfindingthenotewithmylefthandasmyrightdrewmybowacrossthestring.
“Thecelloisdifficultbecauseunliketheguitar,itdoesnothaveanyfrets.Youmustsearchforthenoteonthestringyourself.Butbeforeyoucanfindthenote,youmustbeabletohearit.”
Filipsteppedovertothepianoandbegantoplay.Itwasasimplescaleandhesangalonginastrongbaritone.HeindicatedwithagestureofhisheadthatIshouldjoinhim.Igotup,stoodbesidehim,andbegantosing,ourvoicesmerging.Heplayedhigherandhigher,untilthemusicslippedpasthisrange,thenhefellsilentasIcontinued—eachnotepureandfull.
WhenIfinallystopped,hequirkedhislipsinahalfsmileandsaid,“Youcansing.”Wasthatadmirationinhisgaze?Ithrilledtoit.ItfeltlikeIhadbeensubmergedinawarmbath.
“Alittle.Myyoungersisterusedtostutterquitebadlyandsometimes,whenshecouldn’tgetthewordsout,wewouldsingtogether.Itcalmedherdown.Amyistheonewiththerealtalentinthefamily.Singingissomethingweshare.”
Henoddedinapproval.“Well,thatisahugestep.Hearingwherethenotesshouldbeisagreatadvantage.”
Ishrugged.“Ordisadvantage,because,actually,IamhurtingmyselfasmuchasyouwhenIplaysobadly.IcanhearitinmyheadandIwishIcouldputitintomyhands.Well,ifdogscouldpray,itwouldrainbones.”
Hewrappedhishandaroundmywristandmypulsequickenedtoadrumroll.Couldhefeelit?Withoutreleasingme,hestoodandledmebacktomycello.“Thatisbecauseyourshouldersandarmsaretootense.Letmedotheleft-handfingering.”Hestraddledmychairbehindmeandtookholdofmycellowithhislefthand,andwrappedhisrightaroundmineonthebow.Iwasenvelopedbyhisscent,thehardmusclesofhischestandthighs,thefirmgentlegripofhishands,thefaintstubbleonhischeekagainstmytemple.Hislithebodycradledmine.Iclosedmyeyesandweplayedtogether.
GrandmahadbeenwarnedtoturnoffherhearingaidswheneverIpracticedatthehouse.AsIhadknownitwould,myplayingdroveHelenainsane.Thisgavemegreatpleasure.SheaskedmetopracticeatLukas’sapartment,whichIonlydidwhenshewasnotathome.IwashorribleatsomethingforthefirsttimeinmyovercontrolledlifeandIreveledinit.Ipouredmygrief,pain,andugliness,mymisformedeyeintomyplaying.Ilostmyselfintheclumsinessofmyfingers,theawkwardnessofmybody,thepeeping,crackingsoundsthatcamefrommycello.ThiswasindeedmyinstrumentanditvoicedalltherageandfrustrationthatIcouldnot.
Itookoffmyweddingring.Ihadalwaysbeentooconsumedwithmyambitions,hadneverbeenboycrazy.Yetnowthereweretwonewmeninmyheart.Inolongerrecognizedmyself.IalwayswarnedAmy,whenshefellinlovewithoneguyafteranother,“Youwillnotfindhappinessthatway.Youarejusttryingtodistractyourself.”Ineverunderstoodwhysheyearnedtofindloveandaffectionwithstrangerswhen,inmyeyes,shealreadyreceivedsomuchfromMaandPa.Iwassuchaprude.WithJim,Ihadstarteddreamingofourfuturetogetheralmostrightaway.WhenIhadreadfairytalestoAmy,Iwastheonetrulycaptivatedbythem.Thegodshelpme,IbelievedthatifIworkedmyhardest,ifIwasthebestineveryclass,ifImademyselfbeautiful,Iwouldfindsomeonewhowouldlovemelikenooneelseeverhad—andIhadsucceededwithJim,myaffectionateblondprinceintatteredjeans.Buthehadonlytaughtmethatinthesemoderntimes,thedistinctionbetweenheroandvillainwasoftenintheeyeofthebeholder.Instead,thespellhadbeenbrokeninreverse:thekisshadrevealedthetruthofthefrogunderlyingtheprince.
No,thistime,Ilovednottoremember,nottobringustogetherintosomeimaginedfuture,buttoforget.Whatwaslovebutthemostpotentandaddictiveofalldrugs,morepowerfulthanpillsoralcohol?Iwasstilltakingmorethantherecommendedallowanceofmysleepingpillseachday;thehabithadmadethemlesseffective.AnddrinkingwasnousebecauseIfoundalcoholbitter.Itmademefeelflushedanditchy,myheartandmindracinglikeahuntedanimal.Ilongedforpeace,sleep,andforgetfulness—soIthrewmyselfintothoughtsofFilipandLukas;theywereabarrierholdingmymemoriesofJimatbay.
Ididnotdreamofafuturetogether.Inolongertrustedthatropebridgetohold.Therefore,Ididnothavetochoose.TheywerefrombeforeIbecameeverythingIwasnow,goodorbad.Theywereinbothmybeforeandafterphotos.ItwaslikeIhadfinallycomehome.Itfeltliketheyhadapriorclaim,arighttomethatprecededeveryoneelse,evenmyhusband.Perhapsitwastheintensityofknowingmytimeherewaslimited,thewonderfulsafeboundaryoftheinevitablegoodbye.IkeptmyattractionasecretbecauseIhadlearnedthattodootherwisewastoinvitethegodstomockyou.MyrelationshipwithJimhadbeenamadrush,outofcontrolandconsumingeverythinginitspath,likeanavalanche.Fromthedaywemet,wehadbeeninseparable.Nomoreofthatforme.
Lukaswasforbiddenfruit.Hewasmycousinandmyfriend,andwhatwoulditdotoEstelle?Whenitallwentwrong,asitinvariablywould,Iwouldbeleftweepingamongtheruinsofourfriendship.Filipwasoff-limitstoo,becauseIwasmeresporttohim,liketherabbitusedasalureinarace.Oncehehadexhaustedhimself,Iwouldbeofnomoreuse,ifhehadnotdevouredmealready.Iwasusingthemasadistractionandpartofmeknewit.Butitdidnotmatter.Iheldontotheimagesoftheirfaces,theirbodies,theirhands,theirvoices.
Noneofusactedonourattraction,asifafraidtodisturbthistenuoushappiness,asfragileasasoapbubblefloatinguponasurfaceofwater.LovewasanasymptoteInearedbutcouldneverreach,edgingevercloserforeternity.ThisstrangetriangleofaffectionwasmyfinalchanceathappinessandIchosetoclingtoitwithmytoeslikeatightropewalkerbalancingaboveanabyss.
DutchLocalNewspaper
NOORDNEDERLANDSDAGBLADTuesday,17MayThispastSaturday,14May,thebodyofanunknownwomanwasfoundintheAmsterdam-RhineCanalinDiemen.Shewaslocatedinsideherrentalauto.Heridentityhasnotbeenconfirmed,thoughsourcesatthescenereportthepossibilitythatthebodycouldbelongtoSylvieLee,adualDutch-Americancitizen,whowasreportedmissingtwoweeksagobyherfamily.Itisbelievedthatthevictimmighthavebeenundertheinfluenceofalcoholandmiscalculatedthedistancetowaterinherauto.Chapter16
Amy
Friday,May6
IrealizeitismuchfarthertothehousethanI’dthought,especiallywhenIkeeprammingmyshinsintothepedalsofthebikeasIwalkit.Bicycleafterbicyclepassesbyme.It’snotlikeinAmerica,wheremainlyathletic,youngpeoplerideasadults.HereintheNetherlands,itseemsasthougheveryoneisonabicycle,fromtinytoddlerstothedecrepitseniorcitizensyou’dthinkcouldbarelywalk.Thebikelaneshavetheirowntrafficlights.Atanintersection,Ispotawomanonahugechestnuthorse,peeringatwhatappearstobeatrafficlightsethighonthepoleforequestrians.Amanridesbywithacrateofbeerloadedontothebackofhisbikeandshoppingbagshangingfrombothofhishandlebars.Steeringwithouthands,ateenagegirlcruiseswithherarmsathersides,listeningtomusicthroughherearbuds.
SheseemssorelaxedIdecidetogivemybruisedshinsabreakandridemyborrowedbicycletherestoftheway.Itgoesprettywelluntilapimplykidpassesby,turnshishead,andwinksatme.He’scompletelyturnedaroundonhisbike,jerkinghiseyebrowssuggestivelyandpursinghisthicklipsintokisses.Heseemstobedoingjustfinewithoutlookingwherehe’sgoing,butI’mthoroughlydistractedbythis.HelooksaboutthirteenandIwonderhowoldhethinksIam.I’msurprisedbytheattention,butIsupposeI’mararityhere.Istickout,inbothgoodandbadways.HeobviouslybelieveseveryonecanbikeliketheDutch.Icanhardlymanagetosteerandswerveasacarcomestooclose,honkingatme.
Thankfully,thissurprisesloverboyenoughthatheturnsaroundandsoondisappearsintothedistance.Iampassingacrowdofpeople,allstandingaround,drinkingandlaughingbyacafé,when,tomyshock,anotherguylauncheshimselfontothebaggagerackofmybikesohe’ssittingbehindme.WhatisitwithDutchmenandbicycles?Heisenormousandtheextraweightunbalancesme.Weswinglikecrazy.Luckily,theroadisemptyofcarsatthemoment.
“Hoi!”hesayscheerily,andthenabunchofnonsensewordsIcan’tunderstand.
“Idon’tspeakDutch!”Tomyhorror,weareheadingstraightfortheedgeofthecanal,whichisnotsecuredbyanytypeofguardrail.IfthisweretheU.S.,someonewoulddrownthereeveryfiveminutes,butinEuropetheyseemtobelievethatifyou’redumb,youdeservetodiesoyoudon’tpassyourgenesontothenextgeneration.
Webothholler.Ibracefortheimpact,tellmyselfthatatleastIcanswim,whenthestrangerreachespastmetojerkthehandlebarswithonehand.Hemanagestocrashusintothetrunkofalargetreeplantedonthebankofthecanal.Weflyoffthebikeasweimpact.
Wearepiledtogether—me,theman,thepoorbicycle—andmyribacheswherethehandlebargripstruckmewhenwefell.
“W-whatwereyouthinking?”Isputter.
Heshakeshishead,dazed,andgetstohisfeet,collectinghisleathermessengerbagashedoesso.Heoffersmeahand,whichIrefuse.HethensaysinexcellentEnglish,“IdidnotrealizeyouwerenotDutch.”Andcan’trideabicycleproperly.Ihearthewordshedidn’tsayasclearlyasifhe’dspokenthemoutloud.
IbracemyselfonthefallenbicycleasIstand,stillshaken.“EvenifIwereDutch,whyintheworldwouldyouthrowyourselfontothebackofsomeone’sbike?”
Hegivesashortlittlecoughandbusieshimselfpickingupmybikeandfixingthestemofthehandlebars.Despitemyanger,Inoticehisfineshoulders,andhowhiswavybrownhairgleamsinthesunlightandthathehasaveryniceprofile.“Ah,itissortofacustomhere.IhadafewbeerswithlunchandIchangedbacktomystudentdayswhenIsawyou.”
“Istilldon’tunderstand.”
“Well,youseeaprettygirlgoby,youjumpontheback.Ijustwantedtocomealong.”Heshootsmeahopefullookthatmanagestoseembothself-mockingandcharming.
Iamspeechless.ThismanthinksI’mattractive.Thewindwhipsmyhairinmyeyes.Ibrushitawayandtakeagoodlookathim.Heisprobablyabitolderthanme,closertoSylvie’sage.He’swearingadarkjacketoverabutton-downshirtandhisjeansfitsnuglyoverhislonglegs.Butmore,thereisvulnerabilityandtrepidationinhissensitiveface,asifhe’stakingagreatgamblebystandinghere,talkingtomelikethis,buthe’sriskingitanyway.
“Iamverysorryaboutthebikeandthecrashandthepossibleswimandallthat.Atleastyourbicycleappearsundamaged.CouldIpossiblytakeyououtforcoffeetomakeupforit?”
Iwanttogo,verymuch.ButIhavebeenbroughtupinNewYorkCity.Infact,Ihaveneverspokentoastrangertothisextentbeforetoday.Serialkillersabound.WhatwouldMaorSylviesay?
Hereadsmyansweronmyface.“Okay,Iunderstand.Nevergooutwithamanyoudonotknowandallthat.”Herummagesinhisbagandpullsoutacrumpledflyer.“Well,IhappentobegivingafreelunchconcerttomorrowattheNoorderkerkinAmsterdam.Therewillbemanyotherpeopletheretokeepyousafeifyoushouldwanttocome.Andthereisanicefarmer’smarketoutsideonSaturdays.”
TheflyerisinDutchbutIcanreadthewordsJ.S.Bach,Zessuites.“Areyouamusician?”
Heinclineshishead.“I’macellist.MynameisFilip.”
Part4
Chapter17
Amy
Saturday,May7
Ifloatinahaze.Didthehandsomecellistreallyinvitemetoseehimtoday?IfindhisfullnameontheBachCelloSuitesflyerand,afterGooglinghimonthelaptopSylviegaveme,nowknoweverythingabouthim.IsthereanythingIownthatwasn’tgiventomebymysister?Icanhearhernow:Slowdown,Amy.Youdon’tevenknowhimyet.It’snotpossibletofallinlovesixtimesayear.I’mnotthatbad.Ijustenjoylikingguys.It’smyhobby.Eachmanisapotentialdoorwayleadingmeoutofmyboringlifeandintotheirs.Mostofthetime,Idon’tmanagetospeaktothemmuch,letalonehavethemtakearealinterestinme.It’smoreaboutthefantasy.Withthehelpofonlinetranslatingprograms,IlearnthatFilip(suchanelegantandEuropeanname)isanestablishedcellistwiththeNetherlandsPhilharmonicOrchestra—sodefinitelynotaserialkiller.
Sylvie.Isitwrongtospendmytimegoingtoaconcert?HowcanIlikeaguywhileshe’sstillmissing?Whatiswrongwithme?Butthere’snothingIcandountilMonday,whenIcancontactthepoliceagain.Thestressofwaitinghascausedaconstantacheinmyshouldersandneck,andIcanbarelyeatorrest.Isleepandwakewithaweightuponmysoul.Ineedadistractionfromitall,evenjustforamorning.Icouldgolistentoaconcertgivenbyagorgeousmusician—andtheBachCelloSuitesaresomeofmyfavoritepieces.EvenifFilipisn’tactuallyinterestedinme—andI’msurehe’snot—Icanenjoythemusicifnothingelse.Itmighthelpclearmymind.
IstudyhowtogettotheNoorderkerkinAmsterdambypublictransportation.Atrain,closelyrelatedtothesubway,issomethingItrustandunderstand.It’ssurprisinglyeasysincethemapprogramshowsmeexactlywhenandwherethetrainarrivesandHelenahasgivenmeanOV-chipcard,whichIcanuseforanytypeofmasstransit.I’mscaredbutexcitedtoo.I’mnottellingHelena,Willem,orLukas.Ifthey’reanythinglikeMaandPa,therewouldbeaninterrogationandtheywouldprobablysendLukasalongtomakesureFilipisn’tamurderer.Livingathome,I’veonlymanagedafewdatesunderPa’swatchfuleye,abareminimumofalovelife.
Thisisthenew,independentAmy.IhearSylvie’svoiceinmyhead—Justgo,you’llbefine.Ipullmyselftogether.Iputinmycontactlensesandapplyatinybitofmakeup.Therearenewandunexpecteddangersinthiscountry,likeflirtatiousDutchmenonbicycles.Icannolongeraffordafogofblurriness,notwhileSylvieneedsmeatfullcapacity.
IgodownstairsandcallouttoHelenaandWillem,whosipcoffeeastheyworkontheirpaperworkatthediningroomtable.ItellthemI’mheadingouttoexploreAmsterdam.Theydon’tseemsurprisedoralarmed.Don’ttheyrealizeI’mnotDutchandcouldgetlostforever?
ThetrainstationisquiteclosetotheirhousesoIdon’thavetotakethebicycle,thankgoodness.Theweatherhaschangedagainandnowfeelslikespring.Ilovethesmelloffresh-cutgrass.Thewindiswarmandplayfultoday,touslingmyhairwithcaressingfingers,thoughtheskyisedgedwithahintofdarkness.EventhepeopleIpassonthestreetseemtobesmiling—thatis,untiltheyseeme.I’mnotsureifit’sbecauseI’mastranger,orChinese,orbecauseofthewayIavertmyfacetoavoideyecontact,anecessaryhabitlearnedinNewYork,wherehustlersandaggressivemenlurk.
Atthelittleredkioskonthetrainplatform,Imanagetobuymyselfacupofcoffeeandawarmsaucijzenbroodje.Iindicatebypointing.ImakesuretospeakEnglishrightawaysotheywon’tassumeI’mDutchandstartspeakingittome.There’sarectangularsignnexttothetracksthatshowswhenthetrainwillarriveandlistsallthestops—trulyaverycivilizedcountry.Isipmyhotcoffee,whichissmallerandmuchstrongerthanI’musedto,andnibbleontheflakeysausagepastryasawhitetrainwithbrightyellowdoorsandblueaccentspullsup.
Istandtherewaitingforthenearestdoortoslideopenbutitdoesn’tbudge,eventhoughpeoplearegettinginandoutofotherentrances.Iracetoanotherdoorwayandbarelyslipinsidebeforethedoorcloses.Theconductorblowsthewhistleandwe’reoff.Ilearnbywatchingatotherstations.Thedoorsonlyopenifyoupushabutton.HalfofNewYorkCitywouldbetrappedonthesubwaysifweimplementedthat.Therewouldberiots.TheDutchlandscapeisinfullbloom,fieldsfilledwithtulipsandhyacinths,riotinginred,yellow,andmagentaovertheircarefullycultivatedbeds.There,linesofworkersaredecapitatingtheflowers.Iassumeit’stostrengthenthebulbs.Icranemynecktowatchasthetrainroarspast.Trailsofsacrificialbloomslittertheearth,theirdelicatepetalsalreadywilting.
ThetrainridesintoalongcoveredspaceatAmsterdamCentralStation,overarchedwithpanesofglassandmetalthatglitterinthesun.Peoplewaitpolitelyoutsidethetrainforustogetoffbeforecrowdingin.IflowalongwitheveryoneuntilIfindmyselfinthelargecentralhall.Itispartmedievalcathedral,partmodernage—I’veneverseenanythinglikeit.There’snograffitiorlitteranywhere.Touristsdragtheirwheeledsuitcasesintosandwichandpastashops,whilebackpackersstridepastteenagerschattingoncellphones.
Mysenseofbeingforeigneasesabithere,amongallthediverseracesandnationalities.Ihearjazzpianomusicandrealizeit’scomingfromashinyblackgrandpianothathaspaintedonitsside:BespeelMij/PlayMe.AMoroccanmaninajanitor’suniformisplayingTheloniousMonk’s“’RoundMidnight”withgreatfeelingashispailandbucketrestagainstthepillarnearby.Asmallgroupofpeoplehavegatheredtolisten.
Istepoutsideandfindmyselfinthemidstofamassoftramtracks.Ididit.IwenttoAmsterdamallbymyself.Themapsapponmyphoneshowsthatit’sonlyafifteen-minutewalktotheNoorderkerk.Ilookbackatthestationandseethatitisindeedalongcathedralbuiltonthewater,litgoldenbythemorninglight.Foramoment,Iclosemyeyes.Please,whatevergodsroamthisland,pleaseletmysisterbeallright.Passengersaredisembarkingfromflatferries.Icrossthestreetwithoutlookingbothwaysandamalmostrunoverbyabicyclistwhoswervestoavoidmeatthelastmoment.ThenIpickmywayalongaroadwhereliterallythousandsofbicyclesrestagainsteachotheronbothsidesofthestreet.Tomyrightisatallmodernbuilding,entirelyscaledwithsmallsquaresofthickglasslikesomemythicalsnake.
Inthisbeautifulcity,IcanfeelthatSylviewillreturntome,safeandsound.ShewillhugmeandlaughthatIwasworriedenoughtocomeallthewayhere.Weallgooutfordrinkstogether:Sylvie,Lukas,Estelle,andmewithmynewboyfriend,Filip.Igiggleattheideaofthis.Ican’twaittoseeFilipagainandhearhimplay.Icrossanelegantmodernarchedbridgeandpassaninterracialcouple,bothmen,neckingbyoneofitspillars.
ThenIstrollalongtheBrouwersgracht,acanallinedwithtallandthincanalhouses—eachbearingsoaringgablesandlongsleekwindows.Palegreenbudsspecklethetreesandhouseboatsaredockedallalongthewaterside.HowSylviemustloveithere.Shealwayswantedtoplayboatwhenwewerelittle,whichmeantsittingonourtinybedandpretendingwelivedatseatogether.IwouldleapontothefloorandthrasharoundtocatchthefishandbringthembacktoSylvie,whoexpertlyfriedthemup.Wehadnoideashewouldgrowuptobesuchaterriblecook.
Onthecorner,Ispotalarge,cross-shapedProtestantchurch.ThatmustbetheNoorderkerk.Ihavesometroublefindingtheentrancebecausethesquareinfrontissmotheredwithmarketstands,eachwithalittleslopedclothrooftoprotectitfromtherainandsun.Icansmellthefreshbreadandroastednuts,butIdon’tstoptobrowse.Ihurryinsidetofindagoodseat.
IspotFilipatthefront,busytuninghiscello.Hisshouldersstrainagainstthetuxedohewears.He’ssittingunderneaththeshortstaircasethatleadstothepulpit,hishairlitbyalargecircularchandelier.Behindhim,amassivepipeorgangleamssilverandgoldandstretchestowardthearchedceiling.Hestandstoadjusthiscufflinks,andIstopsosuddenlythewomanbehindmealmostbumpsintomeandthenstaresatmecuriouslyasshestepsaroundme.Icatchmybreath.Thoselonglegs,thenarrow,taperedwaist,theeleganceofhishands,hischiseled,kindfeatures.Alineofwell-dressedladiesadmirehimfromthefirstrow.Thepewstotheleftandtherightarefilledalready.Ihurrytoanemptyseatinoneoftherowsofwoodenfoldingchairsarrangeddownthemiddleofthechurch.Hescanstheaudienceasifhe’slookingforsomeone,andIfeelmyselfglowasheseesme.Thenheliftsahandingreeting.
Imovemychairslightlyanditcatchesononeofthelonggraystoneslabsthatlinethechurch.There’sanumberengravedontoit,plusaholetoliftupthestone.IalmostjumpoutofmyseatasIrealizewearesittingontombstones.Ma:Neverwalkoveraperson’sgrave.Veryuncomfortablefortheirsoul.Atthecemetery,wealwaystakecaretomaneuveraroundthegraves.ThiswouldbethegreatestformofhellforusChinese,tobeburiedinabusychurchwherehundredsofpeopletrompoverourbodies.WhatifSylvie’s—Ibreakoffthethought.Justforoneday,Iwilltrynottoworry.
AmaninasuitspeakstotheroominDutchandpresentsFilipwithaflourish.Theaudienceclapsloudly.Filipinclineshishead,thensitsandliftshisbowtohiscello.ThefamiliarstrainsofBach’spreludeofthefirstsuiteforsolocelloinGmajorfillthehall,thesoft,translucenttonesofhisbaroqueinstrumentresonatinginthisholyplace.Hisphrasingissensitive,yetintenseandquietlyperceptive.DespiteSylvie’sdisappearance,Ifeelatpeaceasthemelodyundulates,flowsintotheraggededgesofmysoul.It’slikeIcansenseFilip’spassionandvulnerabilityinhisplaying—and,justlikethat,mystupidandfrustratedheartishis.
Aftertheconcert,Filipisimmediatelyringedbyhisfans.Ihesitate.Ilongtoapproachhimbuteventhethoughtofspeakingtohimturnsmytongueintoaloginsidemymouth.Iwaitforafewminutes.Thecrowdaroundhimshowsnosignsofthinning.He’sagodandIamnothing.Ishouldn’tmistakepolitenessforanythingmore.Myshouldersdroop,andIturntomakemywaytothedoor.ButjustasIstepoutsideintothebrilliantsunlight,Ihearhimcall,“Amy!Wait!”
Myjoysproutswingsandtakesflight.Iturntoseehimhurryingtowardmewithhissleeksilvercellocaseslungontohisbacklikeagiantbackpack.
“That’squiteatalentyouhavethere,beingabletorunwiththatthingonyourback,”Iblurtout.
Hestopsamoment,surprised,andthenstartstolaugh.“Notquitethecello-relatedcomplimentIwashopingfor,butthankyou.Look,Ireallydowanttomakeituptoyouforalmostdrowningyouintheriver.ThereisacaférightonthecornerherethatsupposedlyhasthebestapplepieinalloftheNetherlands.”
Couldthistrulybehappeningtome?Iwanttosquealwithjoy.“I-I’dlikethat.”
Aswemakeourwaythroughthecrowdedmarket,Ican’thelpcraningmynecktostareatthehugeroundwheelsofDutchcheesesstackedontopofoneanother,andthemoundsofcrustybreadwithnameslikedesembolandrustiekstokbrood,andspectacularflowersinbeigeplasticcratesbeingsoldatridiculouslylowprices.Atoneofthestands,amanismakinglargefreshversionsofthestroopwafelI’deaten,smearingcaramelsyrupbetweentwopiecesofwafer-thinwaffledoughthathethentoastsinaflatroundiron.Mystomachrumblesasthesweetfragrancewaftstowardus.
Filipdoesn’tseemtomindoursilencebutwhenthecrowdeasesabit,Isay,“YourplayingstyleremindsmeofStarker.”
Hisheadwhipsaroundtofaceme.“Youarefullofsurprises.Whydoyousaythat?”
Iscrunchmyheaddownintomyjacket.Ialwaysputmyfootinmymouth.Imumble,“IfeltbadIonlycomplimentedyourrunningwithyourcello,thoughyoudidthatverywelltoo.”
Heshakeshishead,hiseyesclearandinsistent.“Imeant,whydidyoucomparemetohim?HehappenstobesomeoneIadmiregreatly.”
Iperkup.“Somuchdarknessandpassionbeneathacoolandelegantsurface.”
“Ahyes.Youarethemusicaloneinyourfamily,aren’tyou?”He’sscanningthestreet,figuringoutwheretogo.
Istumbleovermyfeetandstareathim.“Howdidyouknowthat?”
Hestaresintothedistance.“Justaguess.Oh,hereweare.ThisisWinkel.”
Wearestandingatapackedoutdoorcafé.Filippronouncedit“Vinkel”insteadof“Winkel”likeitsaysonthestripedgreen-and-whiteawning.Dinerssitattinywoodentablesladenwithmeatpies,clubsandwiches,thickslicesofapplepie,andtallglassesoflayeredespressoandfoamedmilk.
Wejointhelineofpeoplewaitingforatable.Acrossthestreet,along-hairedcalicocatblinksatmefrominsideoneofthewindows,sittingamonganestoforchids.Behindthecat,anolderwomanwatchesus,probablybecauseofFilipandhistuxedo.WhensherealizesI’veseenher,shemovesawayfromthewindow,butIcanfollowhermovementsthroughherlivingroom.It’ssomethingInoticedearlier:thewaytheDutchthrowtheircurtainswideopen,iftheybothertohaveanydrapesatall.Behindeverypaneofopenglass,IimagineunseenfacesexaminingmeandeverythingIdo.
Iask,“Whydosomanyhouseskeeptheirdrapesopen?IthoughtitwasbecauseIwasstayinginavillage,butInoticedithereinAmsterdamtoo.InNewYorkCity,someonewouldbreakintoyourplacerightawayiftheycouldseeinside.”
Hefurrowshisbrow,thinking.“ThatistypicalDutch.Thereisplentyofcrimehere,butsomehowthetraditionstillpersists.Itislikesaying,‘Wehavenothingtohidehere.Weareverynormal,decentpeople,lookallyouwant.’”
It’sourturnandthewaiterleadsustoasunnylittletableinthecorner.Filiptakeshiscellooffhisbackandbalancesitagainstthepillarbesideus.AfterItellhimwhatI’dlike,heorderstwoslicesofappeltaart,adoubleristrettoforhimself,andafreshmintteaforme.Iventuretoask,“AretheDutchreallythatopen?”
“Weareandwearenot.Peoplehereareextremelydirect,whichmeansifyouaskthemiftheylikeyournewshirt,theywillsay,‘Ihaveneverseenanythingsougly.’Butwhenitcomestothingslikesharingproblems,thereisarealtendencytosay,‘Everythingisfine.Icanhandleit.’Evenifthatmightnotbethecase.”
Hisvoicehasalovely,resonantqualitythatmakesitsoundlikehe’ssinging.Hepeeksatmeonceortwiceashetalks,asifhe’sunsureofme.Ithrilltothis—he’ssomehownervousaroundme.He’sopenandthoughtful,asensitivesoulhurtbytherigorsoftheworld.Hesquintsabitinthedirectsunlightandeventhisischarming,thewayhislashesturngolden,hislightliquideyes.
Heislookingatmestrangelyandthetipsofhisearsarebrightred.Ohno,Ihavebeenstaringathimlikeafool.“I-ah,I…”
Fortunately,thewaitressarrivesthenwiththeappeltaartanddrinks,soIamsavedfromhavingtospeak,thoughIamcringinginside.WhycanInotbecoollikeotherpeople?Sylviewouldneverdoanythinglikethis.IdistractmyselfbypretendingIamfascinatedwithmyfood.Itdoeslookdelicious.Mygeneroussliceofappeltaartismadewiththick,cakey,moistdoughstillcrispyaroundtheedges.Theappleshavebeenslicedthinlyandlayeredwithraisins.Adollopoffreshlywhippedcreamaccompaniesthedish.MyteacomeswithadelicatelittlelogofmeringuefilledwithbuttercreamanddippedinchocolateatbothendsthatFiliptellsmeiscalledabokkenpootje,agoat’sfoot.
Afterwe’veeachtriedtheappeltaart,whichtastesasgoodasitlooks,Filipasks,“SowhyareyouintheNetherlands?”
Icupmyhandsaroundmysteamingmugfilledwithalargebundleoffreshmintleaves.Itsfragrancesoothesmyembarrassmentabit.“IhavesomethingsIneedtodowhileI’mhere.”
“Youarenotjustatourist?”
Istirinthelittlepackageofhoneythatcamewithmytea.Ihardlyknowhim.ButIfeellikeIcantrusthim.Iscratchmycheekanddecidetotaketheplunge.“No,mysister,Sylvie,washereandthenshedisappeared.”AsIsaythesewords,myfearwellsupinmeagain.Howcanthisnotbeabaddream?WhatwillIdonow?Iwasdeceivingmyselfearlier.Thisisn’tamisunderstanding.Somethinghasgoneterriblywrong.
EmotionsIcan’tquitereadflashinhiseyes:concern,discomfort,fear.Oddly,hedoesn’tseemsurprised.I’mrelievedhedoesn’treactwithshockorhorror,though,whichwouldonlyscarememore.Hepausesforalongmoment,asifhe’shesitanttospeakoristryingtomakesomemonumentaldecision,thensays,“Oh,thatisterrible.Whathappened?”
SoItellhimthestoryofSylvie’striptotheNetherlands.Helistensintently.
Thenheasks,“Haveyouspokentothepolice?”
Isigh.Myvoicethickensandmyshoulderssag.“Yes,buttheydidn’tseemtohavearealplan.”WhatamIsupposedtodoifthepolicecan’tact?
Filipleansbackinhischairandsteepleshisfingers.Nicehands.“Idonotthinktheyaregoingtodomuch.”
Hearinghimsayitconfirmsmyfears.“Howdoyouknow?”Idon’tquitemanagetokeepmyvoicefrombreaking.
“Well,mypassionisdiving.”
Imutter,“Thatwouldexplainyouramazingbody.”
Heisabouttotakeasipofhisristrettoandsputters.
Mortified,IclaspmyhandstomymouthasifIcouldforcethewordsbackinside.“Iamsosorryfortreatingyoulikeasexobject.”Igaspagain.“Uh,no,Imean,what—whatI’mtryingtosayisIeitherstammerorstufflikethatcomesoutofmymouth.It’soneortheother.”
“Right.”Hecan’tmeetmyeyesandisrubbingthebackofhisneck.Hisearsarenowpurple.“SoIdomanytypesofdivingand,onceinawhile,Ivolunteerasadiverforagroupthatsearchesformissingpeople.”
Ofcoursehedoesvolunteerworkinhissparetime.He’sgoodandgenerous.Thentherestofwhathesaidpenetratesandmyhandfliestomychest.“Doyouworkforthepolice?”
Hefinallylooksatmeagain.Thecolorinhisfacehassubsided.“No,itisanonprofit,independentorganization.Peoplegotothemafterthepolicehavegivenup.SoIhaveseensituationslikethisbefore.Thereareverystrictruleshereaboutwhattypesofdisappearancesgetinvestigatedandtheprivacylawsprohibitmuchgatheringofinformation.Iftheythinksheranawayorthatitissuicide,theywilljustgoanddrinkcoffeewiththefamilyforawhilesoyoudonotfeelbad.Theyareforcedtogiveprioritytocriminalcases,butthatisnohelpwhensomeoneyouloveismissing.”
ForonceIamlisteningtohiswordsinsteadofwatchinghislips.“Sotrue.”
Hebringsouthiswalletandsearchesthroughituntilhefindsanoldbusinesscard,thenhandsittome.“TheorganizationiscalledEpsilon.Theyhavetheirownboats,dogs,everything.”
Iwanttobounceupanddown—finally,peoplewhocouldhelpus.Icouldkissthisman.Itwasfatethatbroughtustogether.ThegodsarehelpingmebringSylviehomeagain.“Thankyousomuch.Thismeanseverythingtome.”Forgettingmypastblunders,Ireachoutandsqueezehisshoulder.“Really.”
Heshiftsabitsomyhandfallsfromhim,andcontinues,“Theyjustsolvedacasethathadbaffledthepoliceformorethantwentyyears.”
“How?”
Hesayssimply,“Theyfoundthecorpse.”
What?Mychesttightensandaclammysweatbreaksoutoverme.Hemustnothaveunderstoodmystorycorrectly.“Butwe’renotlookingforabody.WejustneedtofindSylvie.”
Helookstakenabackforamoment,thenholdsuphishands.“Ofcourse,ofcourse.Theyalsorecentlyfoundsomeonealivewhowaslostinthewoods.Memoryloss.”
“Really?”Memoryloss.Hopebubblesupinmychestlikechampagne.IfonlythatwerethereasonSylvieismissing.Thiscouldchangeeverything.Butwhywashetalkingaboutabody?Therecouldn’tbeabody.That’sridiculous.
Hescootshischairabitcloserandleansin.“Ifyouwantmorehelpfindingyoursister,theyarethepeopleyoushouldcall.ThedirectorisnamedKarin.Ifyoudecidetoapproachher,tellherIsentyou.Here,letmegiveyoumymobilenumbertoo.”Hetakesthecardandscribbleshiscellontheback.“SinceIdiveforthem,itwouldgivemethechancetoseeyouagainaswell.”Hegivesmeadevastatinghalfsmilethatmakesmyheartflutteragain.“Wecouldgooutintheboattogether.”
ThirteenYearsAgo
THEDAILYPRINCETONIANMonday,November18IntheearlymorningofSunday,November17,theDepartmentofPublicSafety(DPS)respondedtoareportofassaultontheUniversitycampus.Theallegedassaultwasreportedat2:16a.m.andisclaimedtohaveoccurredsometimebetween2:00a.m.and2:16a.m.DirectorofmediarelationsNicoleThompsonexplained,“RegardingtheassaultreportedintheNovember17log,DPSreceivedareportfromtheCampusSecurityAuthoritythatanactofviolenceoccurredoncampusperpetratedbyamalestudentagainstafemaleandamalestudent.Itisnotknownatpresentifanyofthestudentswasundertheinfluenceofdrugsoralcoholatthetime.Wewillnotdisclosethenamesofthepartiesinvolvedorthedetailsoftheallegedincident.”Anunnamedsourcereportedthattheallegedconflictaroseoverthevictim’sflirtationwiththeattacker’sgirlfriendandthatthegirlfriendsufferedaminorinjuryaswellintheconfusion.TheallegedmalevictimwastreatedbyUniversityHealthServicesformultiplelacerations,bruises,afracturedrib,andaloosetooth.Chapter18
Ma
Sunday,May8
IwasamotheraloneonMother’sDay.PabroughtmeasoysaucechickenfromChinatown,whichwashiswayofshowingaffection.IwasgladAmyrememberedtocallme,butsuchstrangereportsshebroughtofhersister,sayingSylviehadgonetoVenicewithsomeone.Who?Jim?Anotherman?MySnowJasmine,whathashappenedtoyou?
Women.Love.Howcansomethingsobeautifulturnwicked?Theysaythatonceyouseetheocean,nootherwatercancompare.Mylovestorystartedsomanyyearsago.PaandIbeganourmarriagewiththestrengthofatiger’sheadbutitslowlytransformedintotheweaktailofthesnake.HowcoulditbethatIplacedthegreenhatuponhishead?
Ihadknownhimforsolong.Wewerefriendsuntilsomethingelsegrewinbetweenus,somethingstrongandbinding.HemademegaspwhenIcaughtsightofhimunexpectedly,standingwithhisfriends—theblazingsun,thedustontheemptyroads,thebustleoffarmersgoingtomarket.Icarriedmybasketandsawhimlooking,fromunderneaththeshade.Ihadneverseenamansotallandbroad,strongyetfine.Ihadneverhadamanlookatmethewayhedid,withlonginganddesire,thoughIdidnotknowthenwhatthatwas.
Oneday,IwaspassingbyhimwhenIsteppedonastoneandlostmybalance.Hereachedoutandgrabbedmebythearm,stabilizedmewithahandonmyback,hisfocusonmylips.ImethiseyesandfeltlikeIhadbeenkissed.NowIlookbackandwonderifthesewerethedreamsofayounggirl.
ItwasasifIhadbeenemptyanddidnotknowit.Suddenly,herewasthefoodIhadalwayscravedandIturnedintoahungryghost,devouringallbutunabletobesatisfied.Ourfirsttime,Ineverwantedtolethimgo—thediscoveryofsmallintimacies,likethebirthmarkbehindhisear,thesoftskinofhisneck.Despitethepainandthesweatandthestrangenessofitall,Iwantedtokeephimwithmeforever.
Butthentheburdenofyearsweigheduponus.Lovecanchange.Itcangrowandtwistuntilthemostbeautifulsaplinginthewildturnsintoaprisonofstuntedwood.
TelephoneCall
Monday,April18
ESTELLE:Hey,Sylvie,itisme.Iamsohappyyouareback.Lukastoldmeitwillbenextweekendyourbirthday.IjustlookedandIcanbookusafewfreeticketstoVenice!SYLVIE:ButIdonotknow.Grandmaissosicknow.Thepalliativenurseiswithhertwenty-fourhoursaday.Thatisnotagoodsign.ESTELLE:Imustbehonest.YoulookedterriblethelasttimeIsawyou.Theskinunderyoureyesislikethatofanelephant.Weneedtogetyououtmore.Comeup,itisyourbirthdayanditwillonlybeforafewdays.Myfatherdiedacoupleyearsagoofcancer.Itjustateatmeinsidedayandnight.Icantakecareofallthereservations.Youwouldjusthavetopayabasicfee.SYLVIE:Areyousure?IhaveneverbeentoVenice.ESTELLE:Absolutely.Lukasflieswithmeallthetime.Wewouldtechnicallybestandby,butasacaptain,Ialmostalwaysgetontheflight.Oh,andshallweinviteyourdeliciousthingtoo?Fourisabetternumberthanthree.SYLVIE:Idonotknowwhoyoumean?ESTELLE:Right.Filip,ofcourse!Chapter19
Sylvie
Thursday,April21
EstelleandLukashaddecidedtoeducatemeonallIhadmissedbynotgrowinguphereandwereholdingacursingcontest.Wesatinsidethepackedlocalpub,sounliketheelegantcocktailloungesIusedtovisitbackinthecitywithmyacquaintancesandcolleagues,wherewesippedtwenty-dollardrymartinisandmojitoswhileposingonsleekleathercouches.Here,everythingwaswood-paneled.ThebarwaslitteredwithpaperHeinekencoastersandtherewasnotasinglecocktailinsight.OnlyBelgianbeer,Filou,witbier,StraffeHendrik,andredandwhitewine,allforlessthanfiveeurosaglass.
IperchedonawoodenbarstoolbetweenEstelleandLukasastheytriedtooutcurseeachother.Theybeganwiththetypicalsicknesses:cancerdick,plaguehead,epilepsybringer,getthesyphilis,biliarycanceridiot.Thentheymovedontoanuscurseslikeanuspotato,anuspilot(Estellehadrolledhereyesatthatone),andanustourist.Nowtheywerefree-associatingwhileItriedtostoplaughinglongenoughtobreathe.
“Coconuttreescrewer.”Estelle’scross-bodyYvesSaintLaurentSohobagwasslungoverhershoulders,longjean-cladlegscrossed,endingincuteblackankleboots.
“Slipperlover.”Lukasleanedbackagainstthecounterashetookasipofhisbeer.Aprettybrunettewithcurlyhairdowntoherbuttdeliberatelysqueezedinbesidehimtograbsomecoasters.Whoneedsextracoasters?Theywereeverywhere.Shegavehimasidewaysglance,clearlynoticingthewayhisblackT-shirtstretchedacrosshischestandlingeringonhisstrongneckandlips.Heremainedcompletelyoblivious.Goodboy.
“Intestinefrog,”Estellesaid.
Lukasshotback,“Sewingbox.”
Iheldupmyhands.“Wait,violation.Howisthatacurse?”
Lukaswaggledhiseyebrowsatme.“Sewingdoesnotjustmeanwithaneedleandthread.”
Estellemadeagraphicgesturewithherfingers.“Sex.Andaboxalsoreferstoawoman’s—”
“Ah,”Isaid.
ItwasEstelle’sturn.Herwhite-blondhairhadnotchangedsincewewerekids.IfonlyIcouldhavehadherwithmeforalltheinterveningyears.Herturquoisesilktanktopshonelikehereyesasshedrawled,“Horsedick.”
“Horsepenispolisher.”
Withatriumphantsmile,Estellesaid,“Easterbunnypubichaircollector.”
NowIalmostfelloffmystoolfromlaughter.“Youarejustmakingtheseup.”
Inunison,theybothprotested,“No!”
Amanwitharuddyfaceandstraw-likestubblewhohadbeenhoveringbehindussaid,“Icalledmybossthatyesterday.”
EstellewinkedattheguyasLukasdeliberatelyturnedhisbackonhim.Thiswasnotthefirstmanwhohadtriedtojoinourgametonight,muchtoLukas’sannoyance.
“Oooh!”Estellecried.“Dancing!”Itwaslateandthecrowdwasdrunkenoughthatafewpeoplehadstartedswayingandjumpinginthemiddleoftheroom—andanothersmallgrouptrompedarounddoingthepolonaiseinalinewiththeirhandsoneachother’sshoulders,singingloudlyoutoftune.Inmostcountries,thiscouldnotreallybecalleddancing.“Comeup.”BeforeIcouldprotest,shedraggedmeofftojointhem.
“No,no,Icannot.Ireallycannot,”Iprotested,butitwastoolate.Thepolonaiselinehadtrompedofftotheothersideoftheroom.WestoodamongthetinydancinggroupasEstellesashayedaroundme.Igroanedandtriedtoclawmywaybacktothebar,butLukasnowstoodbeforeme,movingtothemusic.Helookedgood.Estelleturnedsothatherbuttwaspressedagainsthisfrontandstartedtoundulate,herhandsgatheringacascadeofpalehairaboveherslenderneck.Aboltofjealousystruckmeinthechest.Theyprobablydidthisallthetime,alltheyearsIhadbeengone.
Aboveherhead,hiseyesmetmineandhesmiled,teethwhiteinthedimlylitbar.“Donotgo.Dancewithus.”
Dutifully,Itried.Myhipsdidnotsway.Imarchedupanddowninplacelikearobot.AlthoughIhadlearnedtofindthebeat,IdidnotunderstandwhatpeoplemeantwhentheysaidIhadto“feelthemusic.”Whatwastheretofeel?
Lukas’smouthslackened.
Estellepausedhersexyswinging.“Sylvie!”shescreeched.“What.Is.That.”
“Dancing,”Iretorted.Iwasaterribledancerinalandofterribledancers.Evenhere,Iwasunusual.Butthiswaswhattheywanted.Imarchedharder.
Theruddymanfrombeforecameshimmyingupbesideme.“Lookinggoodtome,littletreasure.”
“Youaretoodrunktoseeanything,”Lukassnapped.Hetookmyhandandpulledmetohim,swingingusaroundsothemanwashiddenbehindhisbroadback.Then,slowly,heliftedmypalmtohislipsandkissedit.Myskinthrobbed.Istaredupathimwithmylipsparted.ThenIremembered:Estelle.
Ipeekedaroundhim,butshewasdancingwithtwootherwomenwithherbacktous.Thankgoodness.Shehadnotseen.Lukas’sheadswiveledtofollowmygaze,hisexpressionpained.
“Ineedtogetsomesleep,especiallyifweareflyingtoVenicetomorrow.”Wasthatmyvoice?Sobreathless.
Heleaneddownandsaid,“Donotgoyet.Orletmecomehomewithyou.”Ishiveredathisbreathagainstmyear.Hehadwrappedmyhandinbothofhisandimprisoneditagainsthisheart.
Heatrushedthroughmybody.NowEstellewasturningtowardus.Ipulledmyhandoutofhisgraspbeforeshecouldnotice.Shewasheadingourway.
Imademyselfsoundassuredandbreezywhenshearrived.“No,ofcoursenot.Iamnotmadeofdollpoopie.IamheadingtobedandIcanmanagethelittlebicycleridehome.YoutwoenjoyyourselvesandIwillseeyoutomorrow.”
IkissedEstelleandthenLukasthreetimesontheircheeks,breathinginLukas’sscentofsweatandginseng,thenmademywaypastthered-facedman,whoblewmeakissasIleft.
Ihadonlydrunkoneglassofwhitewine,yetstillswayedabitonmybicycle.Isoberedquickly,though.LukasandEstellewereprobablydancing,entwinedaroundeachother,backatthebar.Theweatherhadturnedbitterandcoldthesepastdaysandthenightwindwrappedheremptyarmsaroundme.Ipassedlivingroomwindows.SomethingelseIhadnotheldonto:opencurtainseverywhere,bareofobfuscationandgrayareas.There,amiddle-agedcouplewatchingagameshowontelevision,amanironingapileofbabyclotheswhilehiswifeworkedonalaptopatthetablebehindhim,anoldwomansittingaloneinherarmchair,staringintothedarkness.ItwashardtowatchGrandmaworsenbytheday,gaspingforair,herskinturninggray,fadingwhilestillclutchingatlife.Wasthathowitendedforallofus?Everythingwasslippingawayfromme,walkingoutofmyhands.
Restcontinuedtoeludememostnights.Isimplycouldnotbeartoomuchhappiness,evenwhenIwaswithLukasandEstelleandFilip.Evensmallamountsoflightpeekingthroughmycurtainsinthemorninghadstartedtoirritateme.Iwasnotusedtocompanionship,andlikeadogthathadbeenabusedasapuppy,Ishiedawayfromit.JoywasnolongersomethingIcouldtrust.
IlockedmybikebyLukas’sapartmentandwalkedupthepathtothemainhouse.Themoonhunglowandfull,caughtwithinthetangledbranchesofthebirchtree.Thetree’swhitebarkgleamedinthelight.AsIapproached,Isawthatitwaspittedandscarred,peelingtorevealthewoundedwoodunderneath.Thesharpwindwhippedmyhairagainstmycheeks,mercilessandblinding,andthelightsinsidethehousehadbeenputoutlikeeyes.
Ifumbledformykeysbeneaththeoutsidewalllampandthenstifledascreamasalowvoicesaid,“Sylvie.”
Abulkyformemergedfromtheshadows,thenalightmopofhairandIrealizeditwasJim.IttookmeamomenttoswitchintoEnglish.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Waitingforyou.”Hereachedoutandtrailedhishandalongmycheekbone.Helookedtiredanddisheveled,buthistouchwasfamiliar,deartome.ForamomentIleanedintohiswarmfingertips,untilIrememberedtodrawback.
Istilllovedhimandgods,itstillhurt.“Whydidn’tyouwaituntilIcamebacktoNewYork?”
“Iwasn’tsureyouwouldbecomingback.Apartofyoualwayswantedtoreturnhere,didn’tit?”
Despiteeverything,Jimdidknowme.WhatcouldIdowithhimnow?Icouldnotjustsendhimaway.ImightwakeupHelenaandWillemifIbroughthiminside.Thenallsortsofawkwardquestionswouldfollow.Lukaswasnothomeyetandwhoknew?Maybehewouldnotcomehomeatalltonight.Ipressedmylipstogether.“Comethisway.Mycousinliveshereandwewon’tbedisturbed.”
IledhimtoLukas’splace,openedthedoor,andtookhimupstairstothesmalllivingroomandkitchenette.
“Ilikeit,”Jimsaid.“Efficiencyinfusedwithacarelessinsouciance.”
Ashewantedmeto,Ilaughed.Heseemedtometwodifferentpeople:themanwhohadcheatedonme,andmyJim,whomIstillloved.Despiteeverything,itwasgoodtoseehimagain.Ifonlywecoulderasethepastyear.Ileanedbackagainstthekitchencounter,wearyallofasudden.Hetookaseatonthesofa.“Whereareyoustaying?”
“WithfamilyintheHague.”
Oh,right.JimhadanunclewhoworkedfortheInternationalCourtofJusticethere.“Youshouldn’thavecome.I’mnotreadytotalktoyouyet.”
Helookedupatme,hisfacefilledwithregret.Hestoodslowly,asifafraidtospookme,andcamecloser.Reachingout,hetouchedmeontheelbow.Althoughmymindrevolted,mybodyrememberedonlythatthiswasmyhusband.Iclosedmyeyesandtookhishandinmine.Hethreadedourfingerstogether,ashealwaysdid.“You’vebeenavoidingmeformonths.Iamsosorry,Sylvie.Pleasegivemeanotherchance.”
“It’snotthatsimple.”Istaredatthetiledfloor.“Iwishnoneofithadhappened.”
Hebenthisheaduntilwestoodforeheadtoforehead.“IwouldgiveanythingtoundowhatIdid.Iloveyou.”Heliftedmychintokissme.
Hislipsweresoftandfirm.ItastedsaltandrealizedIwascrying.Aswedrewapart,hewipedmytearswithhisthumbs.Awetshimmercloudedhiseyesaswell.“Sylvie.Iwasso,sowrong.It’syourbirthdaythisweekend.Letmetakeyouaway.Let’sstartafreshandwecanhaveourlivesback,bothofus.”Hisvoicewassoearnest,convincing.
Whynot?Toundoeverythingthathadhappenedthesepastfewmonths,likereverseanimationinamovie.Isawallthepiecesofmylifeflybackwardandfittogethertoformtheperfectpictureithadseemedbefore.BacktothewayithadbeenbeforeIreturnedtotheNetherlands—beforeGrandma,Lukas,Filip,andEstelle.Idrewashakybreathandpulledaway.“Ican’t.I’vechanged.It’slikethere’sbeenashellaroundmeandit’sfinallystartingtocrack.”
Heclenchedhisjawandhiseyesnarrowed.“You’vemetsomeone.”
Iclutchedthecounterbehindme,stillsilent.
Hesteppedcloser,loomingoverme,feetplantedwide.Hestuckhisfaceinfrontofmine.“I’mtoolate,aren’tI?Whothehellishe?”
Iliftedmychin,thoughmystomachclenched.“I’mgoingtoVeniceformybirthday.Butnotwithyou.”
“Withwhom?Alone?”Hisvoicegrewdeceptivelysoft.Hiseyesblazedwithhurtandanger.“Tellmehisname.”HehadlookedthiswaythatnightatPrinceton,whenhehadthoughtIwasflirtingwiththatguyattheparty.Thesameanimalfury,thedizzyingflashofwhitebehindmyeyelidswhenhehitme,thereddenedfaceandcurledlipashepushedtheotherguythroughawindow.Webrokeupforafewmonthsafterthat,buthewassosorry,repentant,swearingoverandoverhewouldneverdoitagain.Heevenwenttotherapy.Afterwardhedecidedtostudypsychology.
Beadsofsweatformedonmylip.MykneeswerelockedandmyhandstremblingsohardIcouldbarelygripthecounter.This.ThiswaswhyIwasseparatedfromthisman.Myfearwashedoverthetendernesshehadrekindled,leavingonlycoldashesbehind.Isetmypalmsonhisshouldersandshovedhimhard;hestumbledbackwardastep.“Fuckyou,Jim.Youhavenorightstomeanymore.”
Half-crouched,helookedlikeapredatorreadytopounce.Hisvoicewashoarsewithfury.“You’restillmywife.Ifthatbastardtouchesyou,I’ll—”
“What?”Isaidcoldly.“Hithimthewayyoudidme?”Ihadbeenstunnedwhenhestruckmethesecondtime,duringourinitialscreamingmatchabouthisaffair,worryingabouttheneighborshearing,notsmartenoughtobeafraidofhim,onthefloor,sobbing,ashestormedout.Bythetimehereturned,Ihadalreadychangedthelocksandthrownallhisstuffoutonthecurb.Thatwasthelasttimewehadspokentoeachother,thoughhehadsentasteadystreamofapologeticemailsandflowers.
Asifinslowmotion,Jim’sfacecrumpled.Hestraightenedandreachedhisarmsouttome,imploring.“I’msosorry,Sylvie.IwasafraidandIlostmytemper.Idon’tdeserveyou.I’vedoneeverythingwrong.”Hetoreathishairwithhishands,hisvoicefrantic.“I’malwayspretendingtobeaniceguy,butintheend,I’maselfishasshole.You’rethebestthingthat’severcomeintomylife.Pleasedon’tthrowitaway.”
“Likeyoudidwhenyouhadanaffairwithasixteen-year-oldstudent?”Ihadbeentryingtoforget,butthere,Ihadsaidit.Itwastrue.TherewerenottwoJims.HowIwishedtherewere.Myvoicewascrisp,cracklingwithunshedtears.“Iwonderifyoutrulyregretthethingsyoudid,orifyou’resorryourmarriageisover,orifyou’rejustscaredshitlessaboutwhatwillhappenifthisgetsoutandtheholyBatesnameistainted.”
Hisarmsdroppedtohissides.Hisvoicewasawhisper.“Sylvie,don’tdothis.Mymomanddad…itwouldruinourreputation.”
Stillonlythinkingabouthimself.WhataselfishbastardIhadmarried.“Andwhataboutthatpoorgirl?”
Hesnorted.“Shewantedit.She’sbeenaftermeallyear,wearinglow-cutshirtsandminiskirtsandhangingaroundmyoffice.Itwascompletelyconsensual.Ifyoucouldseeher,shelookslikeafull-grownwoman.”
Thebloodpoundedinmyears.“Youdisgustme.”Myvisionblurred.IbitdownontheinsideofmycheeksohardIcouldtastetheblood.Thismancouldseeasplinterinsomeoneelse’seyebutmissedthewoodenbeaminhisown.“Youweretheadultinthissituation.Shetrustedyouandyouabusedhertrust.”
Helaughed,bitter.“She’saslut.”
Islappedhimintheface,hard.Hisheadsnappedaround,blindfuryinhiseyes,andhegrabbedmebytheshoulderssohardIknewIwouldbruise.
Ialmostcriedoutfromthepainandmytoeswerenearlyliftedoffthefloor.Ihissed,lowandfierce,“We’renevergoingtoagreeaboutthis,solet’stalklegalterms.UndertheageofseventeeninthestateofNewYork,aminorcannotgivesexualconsentintheeyesofthelaw.Whetherornotsheconsentediscompletelyirrelevant.Youareguiltyofstatutoryrape,aClassEfelonywhichispunishablebyuptofouryearsinprisonandafive-thousand-dollarfine.Yes,Ilookedthisup.YouhaveahellofalotmoretoworryaboutthanyourpreciousBatesname.Nowhitmeagainifyoudare.”
HereleasedmesoabruptlyIstaggeredandalmostfell.Icaughtmyselfwithonehandonthecountertop.Heheldhishandsupintheair.InnocentJim.“Shewon’ttellanyone.It’scompletelyovernow.Nooneelseknows.”
“Exceptme.”
Hepressedhispalmstogether,beseechingme,blondhairglintingintheoverheadlight,darkblueeyeslimpidandsorrowful—abeautifulprayingangel.Hespokesoftly.“Sylvie,pleasedon’tdothis.Imadeaterrible,stupidmistake.I’velearnedmylesson.Wedon’tneedtogetadivorce.Everythingwillbelikeitwas.”
Iswallowedhard.Thewordsfelloutlikestones.“Thethingis,Jim,youdidn’tjustrobherofherinnocence,youtookmineaswell.Ilovedyoumorethananyone.IletyouintomyheartandItrustedyou.”Adrysobescapedme.
“Iwassowrong,sweetheart.Iknowyoufeelangryandbetrayed.Iwasjustlonely.Shemeantnothingtome.I’llspendtherestofmylifemakingthisuptoyou.”Hisvoicerangwithsincerity.
Hewassuchamanipulativejerk,evenifIcouldhearaglimmeroftruthinhiswords.Thatonlymadeithurtmore.Ourfailurewasmyfaulttoo.Hetookasteptowardme.Iheldupahand.Enoughwasenough.“Stop.Don’ttrythosecounselortricksonme.Theydon’tworkanymore.EvenifIcouldforgiveyou,Icanneverbesurethatyouwon’tdoitagain,tosomeotherinnocentstudent.”
Hescrutinizedmeuntiltheresolutioninmyfaceseemedtoconvincehim,and,likeamask,thepleadingloverfellaway—andthehurttoo.HowmanytimeswouldIallowthismantoputabladethroughmyheart?HowhadIneverseenthechameleonbefore?
Nowhewascalmandbusinesslike,anegotiatorinacontractarbitration.“Look,ifyouhavetodivorceme,leavethiswholethingoutofitandwe’llgetridoftheprenup,okay?Allyourbills,Amy’sstudentloans,yourparents.You’dneverhavetoworryaboutmoneyagain.Butdon’tdestroymylifefornoreason.”
Andjustlikethat,heacceptedtheendofourmarriage.Iscoffedatthis,irrationallyhurt.“Great,you’retryingtobuyme.Noreason?Youstilldon’tbelievethatwhatyoudidwaswrong.Andthat’sexactlywhythetruthhastocomeout,Jim.I’msorry.”
Hetookasteptowardme,andthenanother,hismusclesandveinsstrainingagainsthisskin.Hisbreathwasquick,thewhitesofhiseyesprominent,hisfistsraised.Ibackedaway,trulyafraidforthefirsttime.Hiscontrolhadsnapped.Thelasttimehestruckme,myheadhadwhippedbackfromtheforceoftheblow.Hetoweredovermenow,hisfacemottledwithrage.Icowered.Footsteps.Ablurofblack.Aloudcrack,thenJimthuddedagainstthefloor.
LukasstoodoverJim’ssprawledform,heaving,hishugehandsclenching.“Getthehellawayfromher.”
JimstaredatLukas,thenatme.Heslowlyraisedahandtothebloodflowingfromacutonhischeek.Heshookhisheadindisbelief.“Sothisishim.”Hegavemealong,painedlook,filledwithhurt,betrayal,andfury.Jimstaggeredtohisfeetandglaredatme.“Thisconversationisn’tover,Sylvie.”HeshovedpastLukasandstalkedoutofthehouse.
Isankdownonthefloor,suddenlyweak.“Howmuchdidyouhear?”
Lukascameoverandkneltbesideme,hisvoicegentle.“Verylittle.Somethingaboutbillsandmoney.Icameupstairstofindhimthreateningyou.Areyouallright?”
Iheldoutmyarmstohimlikeasmallchild.“No.”ThenIwascryingbigheavingsobsasheheldme.Ifeltsaferinhisarms.Ihadmadesuchamessofeverything.Mymarriagewastrulyover.WhatwouldIdonow?OhJim,howdidwecometothis?Lukassmoothedmyhairandpattedmyback,murmuringindistinctsoundsofcomfort.
AsIcalmed,hehandedmeaboxoftissuesbutkeptonearmaroundme.Hestayedonthefloornexttome,leaningbackagainstthekitchencounter.Iblewmynoseandtookadeepbreath.Irestedmycheekagainsthisshoulder.
“Husband?”hesaid.
Itriedtospeak,hadtoclearmythroat.Myvoicewashoarse.“Soontobeex-husband.”
Henodded.“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
Ishookmyheadandthenchuckled,giddyafteralltheemotionoftheevening.“Doyouknowwhenmyhappiestmomentwas?”
“Changingthesubject?”Therewasasmileinhisvoice.
“Ihadhadtheworstday.ItwassoonafterIhadmovedtotheU.S.andIhardlyspokeanyEnglish.ImissedyouandEstelleandGrandma.Allofthekidsthereteasedorignoredmeandthatday,oneofthegirlshadpinchedmesoharditleftapurplebruiseonmyhand.Theworstwas,theteacheryelledatmeforfighting,nother.Iwenthome,tryingsohardnottocry,andAmyjumpedintomyarmsandeverythingwasallright.Shefeltsowarmandhappyandalive.Iknewshewouldalwaysloveme,nomatterwhat.Shesavedmethen.Likeyoujustdid.”
Herestedhischeekagainstmytemple.“Areyounotgoingtotellmewhathappened?”
Isighedandclosedmyeyes.“Notnow.AllIwanttodothesedaysisforget.”
Ilayinthedark,comfortedbytheknowledgethatLukaswasinhisapartmentnextdoor.Iwantedtostaywithhim,butmyheartwasadesertlandscapefilledwithmiragesandquicksand,nothinginittrustworthy,andIlovedhimtoomuchtolurehimintoahallucinationwithme.AswasmyhabitwhenIwasstressed,Irubbedatthebirthmarkbehindmyear.Itwasbarelyvisible—adistinctivespiraledcirclewithabitofatail.Amysaiditremindedherofasnail.MahadalwaysdrapedmyhairoveritwhenIwasachildtohideit,andsoIhaddevelopedaslightawkwardnessaboutit.Thesleepingpillswerenotworkingtonight.ThelifeIhadsocarefullyknittedtogetherwithJimwasfallingapart.Iwasnottrulysurprised.Inaway,Ihadbeenwaitingforthisunravelingmywholelife.Deepdown,Ihadknowntruelovewasnotforme.
IhadlovedJimwithallofmethatwasinnocent,thepartthatstillbelievedinafairy-taleendingfortheimmigrantChinesegirl.Iwasstarvedforaffectionandhe,mychanceatredemption,hadbeengenerouswithit.Ilovedthewayhewassounabashedlyhimself.ItwasnotuntilmuchlaterthatIrealizedwhatIthoughtwasconfidencewasactuallyaformofselfishness,arefusaltobelievethatnoteverythingintheworldrevolvedaroundhim.
Iwasanimpoverished,awkwardgirlwhogotintoPrincetonongoodgrades,unlikeanothergirlIknewwhosefatherhadenclosedacheckforhalfamilliondollarswithherapplicationfee.Shecouldfishwithagoldenhook.Weweresopoor,theyhadevenwaivedmyfee—alwaysthescholarshipstudent,thebrainoftheclass,thegirlintheill-fittingclothes.Butthosewhowishtoeathoneymustsufferthestingofthebees.Methodically,IhadfixedeveryflawIcouldfindinmyself.Inhighschool,IskippedlunchsoIcouldsaveforafewgoodpiecesofclothing.Incollege,IworkedseveraljobsatatimesoIcouldhavemycrookedtoothpulledandreplacedwithafakeone,toovainandimpatienttowaitforbraces.
Theotherkidsrespectedmebecausetheyhadnochoice.ImadesureIwasatthetopineveryclass,butnoonelikedme.UnlikeAmy,whohadbroughtherlittlegirlfriendshomeregularly.Iallowedmyselfnovulnerabilities.ItoldmyselfIdidnotneedfriendships.Whenyouweredifferent,whoknewifitwasbecauseofalackofsocialgracesorthelanguagebarrieroryourskincolor?Ireadetiquettebooksandstudieddesignerbrandsasintentlyasmystatisticstextbooks.ButInevermasteredtheartofthegracefulshrug,thecarelessindifferenceofthosewhosummeredonprivateislandsandtiedclovehitchesonsailboats.Iwastherecipientofcriticalstares,thekindthatwerethedefiningcharacteristicofthosebornintocertainclasses.Ilearnedthattherewerepeoplewhoknewofnootherexistencethantheirown,apathcushionedbywealthandbreedingfrombirthonward.
Intellectually,someofthekidsincollegewerefarbeyondme—asfarasthestarswerefromthefrogatthebottomofawell,asMawouldsay.Myfreshman-yearroommate,Valerie,haddebatedtheimportanceofImmanuelKantandJohnStuartMillwithherYaleprofessorparents.Ihadneverheardofeither.ThatwaspartlywhyIchosethesolidfieldsofmathematicsandthesciences.IdidnothavetoovercomeamountainofbooksoravastculturalpastthatIhadneitherreadnorheardof.Withsometalentandalotofhardwork,IfeltIhadachance.AlthoughValerieandIneverfought,wedidnotbecomefriendseither,andafterfreshmanyear,shechosetoroomwithagroupofothergirlswhosmokedandworeheavyblackeyeliner.
Guysonlylikedmefortheoutside.IunderstoodthatItickedtheyoung,pretty,andbrightboxes,butsodidmanyothergirls.Ididnotwanttobereplaceableand,truthwas,Iwastoomuchofanerdinsidetodifferentiatewhenamanhadanabstractorpersonalinterestinme.Inthedininghall,Ioncehadalong,interestingconversationwithaguyaboutourmutualclassontheCulturalRevolutioninChina,andthenwascaughtunpreparedwhenheaskedmeout.IliedandsaidIalreadyhadaboyfriend.Heneverspoketomeagain.Clearly,Ihadnotbeenthatfascinatingafterall.
ButthenImetwarm,affectionateJim.Ihadthoughthewaslikeme,apoorkidwhomadehiswayonhisown.HowthirstyIwasforhisattentionandtouch.OtherboyshadlikedmebutIneverfeltasifwespokethesamelanguage.Wewerealways,asGrandmawouldsay,achickentalkingtoaduck.ButwithJim,everythingwasdifferent.
ThenhebroughtmehomeforChristmasandIwasstunnedbythemansionhisparentscalledhome.Muchlater,Irecognizedthatourrelationshiphadbeendefinedbyduplicityandsilencefromthestart.
“Younevertoldme,”Ihadsaid,feelingawedandbetrayed.Myboyfriendwasamemberofthegroupsthatdisdainedme.
“I’vealwaysfeltguiltyandstupidaboutit,”hesaid,“beingsoprivileged.”
Hisparents,bothproductsofcenturiesofbreedingandexpectations,werewannabehippiesyetstillspokeonlyFrenchinfrontofJimwhenevertheydiscussed“vulgar”subjectslikemoney.Theywereunfailinglypoliteandrefined,toointelligenttobeovertlyracist,toowell-bredtoshowanysortofderisionforthepoorrelationthatIwas.Buttherewasnevertobeanyshouting,noinappropriatefeelings.Theworstcrimewastobeunrefinedortoservethewrongpersonfirstatadinnerparty.TheyhadbredintoJim’sbonesalltherulesIhadstudiedsotheoreticallyinmyetiquettebooks.IunderstoodtheyweredisappointedthatJimhadnotgonetoHarvardlikehisfather,butfoundPrincetonacceptable.Iwonderedhowanexuberantlittleboyhadfeltgrowingupinsuchacontrolledenvironment.
Wehadsexforthefirsttimeintheirindoorswimmingpoolwhilehisparentswereatadinnerparty.Wereclinedintheshallow,warmwater,surroundedbyhothousefernsandbloomingplantslikeajungle.Theglasswallsoverlookedthewindsweptlakewherethewavescrashedagainsttheirboathouse.Jim’shandspulleddownmybikinibottom,thenhishandsfistedinmyhair,hislipstenderagainstthehollowbetweenmybreasts.Igasped,mylegswrappedaroundhiswaist,hisgroansoftasheburiedhimselfinsideme.
TheirweddinggiftwastheonetimeJim’sparentshadrelaxedtheirdisciplineofausteritywiththeironlyson.TheyhadthrownusalavishweddingandcrowneditwiththegiftoftheapartmentinBrooklynHeights.
Thosedays,wewerebothsobusy.Icamehomeexhaustedandbleary-eyed.Wehardlymadeloveanymore.Butwestilllovedeachother,orsoIthought.Despitethemenwhocameontomeatthemanagementconsultancyfirm,IhadalwayslookedforwardtogoinghometoJimandourlifetogether.
Itwasalmostlikeplayingwithdolls,pretendingtoownalifeIhaddreamedof.Ididnothaveachild-wishliketheotherwomenIknew,butsoon,Ithought,wewouldhavekidsandwewouldneverhavetosendthemawaytoberaisedbysomeoneelse.IwouldbeafreshSylvie,abelovedSylvie.IbroughtAmyintoourlivesasmuchasIcould.SheneverwantedtostayovernightwhenJimwashomeforfearwewerehavingsexorsomesuch.Iwantedtogiveheranoasisofpeace,forhertolaydownthatburdenofguiltshealwayscarried.Itwasnotfairthatshehadthatstutterwhenshewaslittle,orthatshewassoofteninmyshadow.
Iwasruthlessenoughtoclimbtothetopnomatterwhat.Inmywork,Iwassometimesresponsibleforthefiringofhundredsofpeople.Ifitwasbetterformyclient,Ididitwithoutapang.Theoldermanwhohadcometopleadwithmeonce,“Please,I’malmosteligibleforretirement”—Ihadaskedsecuritytoescorthimout.
WhenAmywasyounger,shewentthroughaphaseofaskingmequestions:Ifyoucouldhaveamountainofdoughnutsoramountainofgold,whichwouldyouchoose?Thegold.Ifyouhadtobatheinbloodorpoop,whichwouldyouchoose?Gross,Amy,I’mnotansweringthat.Ifyouhadtheanswerstoatest,wouldyousharethemwithyourbestfriend?No.Amystaredatme.Notevenyourverybestfriend?No.ButI’dsharethemwithyou.
Oneweekend,afterIwasmarried,JimwasawayforaconferenceandIinvitedherover.Amywasanexcellentcook,herdumplingstenderandsoft,hersoysaucechickenfragrant,herredbeanicedrinkscreamyandsweet,butsinceMahadneverusedouroven,Amyhadneverlearnedtobake.Idecidedwewouldmakebrowniesfromamix.
“No,itcan’tbethathardtomakethemfromscratch,”Amyprotested,everthecookingprincess.“Whatcouldgowrong?”
Igaveherahardstare.“I’minvolved.”
Shesighed.“You’reright.We’dbetternotriskit.”
Anhourlater,webothhadourelbowsproppedonmycook-island,aboxofbrowniemixandall-newbakingtinsandequipmentspreadaroundusthatIhadboughtforthisventure.
Amyexpertlystirredinthewaterandeggs.“Ishouldn’tdothis.I’mgoingtogetfat.”
Ieyedherlustroushair,thetannedglowofherskin,herbrighteyes.“Ridiculous.You’rebeautiful.Youhavetostepintoyourself,growintothewomanyouaremeanttobe.”
Sheblewalockofhairoutofherface.Herforearmhadabigsmudgeofflouronit.“Idon’tknow.It’sbeenprettylongandIstilldon’tfeellikeawoman.”
“Comeon,let’sfinishthisandI’lldoyourmakeupandhair.”Ialwaysfeltclumsyanduselessinthekitchen,probablybecauseIneverpaidattentionwhenIwasthere.AtleastIcoulddoherface.
Butofcourse,AmyresistedmyattemptstoplayfairygodmothertoherCinderella.“Stopit,Sylvie.I’mnotadoll.AndIdon’twantanyfashionadviceeither,myclothesarefine.ButcanIaskyousomething?”
Ibeamed.Ilovedgivingadvice.
Shepouredthebrowniemixintoasquaretin.“WhydidyouchooseJim?Imean,therewerealwaysboyscallingthehouse.ItdrovePacrazy.”
Istuckafingerinthemixforataste.Amyslappedmyhandaway.Withmypinkiestillinmymouth,Ithoughtback.“Oh,theyjustwantedhelpwiththeirschoolwork.AndnoneofthemhadanyideawhoIreallywas.ThethingInoticedaboutJimonourfirstdatewasthathewassuchagoodlistener.Hewasn’tlookingaround.Hewasonlypayingattentiontome.Heaskedquestions.”
“Likewhat?”Amypulledontheovenmittsandslidthebrownietrayintotheoven,whichshehadsomehowrememberedtopreheat.
Iwatchedherwashherhands.Istartedfillingthedishwasherwiththedirtydishes.Ifoundthewoodenstirringspoonshehadused,stillcoveredwithbatter,andlickeditthoughtfully.“Youknow,‘Whatwasthatlikeforyou?Whydoyouthinkthathappened?’IfeltlikehereallysawmeforwhoIwas,notjustthesurfaceofmebutallofme.”
Amytookthespoonandtosseditinthesink.“Stopthat.Youcangetsalmonella.”Shepushedupherglasseswithhermiddlefinger.“Well,hemaybegoodatlistening,buthe’snotthatadeptatremembering.He’shadthesameconversationwithmethreetimes.Heasksmeexactlythesamequestionseachtimeandreactswiththesameamountofsurpriseatjusttherightmomenttoo.Andhetalksonandon,likeonebigmonologue.”
MyfacegrewtightandIjerkedback,surprisedandangry.“Whatdoyouknow?Withthoseloserboysyoufallinlovewith,sneakingaroundMaandPaasiftheydidn’talreadysuspect.”
Sheflinched,hermouthfallingopen.ThemomentIsawthehurtflashinhereyes,Iwassorry.Thatwasme,lipservicetohowgreatAmywasonemomentandputtingherdownthenext.Nowondershehadsuchlowself-esteem.Whenshewaslittle,AmyhadoncerunuptoagirlwhocalledmeChinkerbellonthestreetandkickedherhardintheshins.
Butnow,ofcourse,IrealizedshewasrightaboutJim.Ihadbeenblind.Hehadseemedwarmandkindbuthedidittobeadmiredandloved,notoutofanytruegenerosityofthesoul.Hewasnotthatobservanteither.Morethanonce,wehadfoughtbecausehewasmuchmoresocialthanIwas.Likeagoldenretriever,helovedeveryone,oratleastwantedthemtoadmirehim,whereasIdidnothavemuchuseformostpeople.InetworkedwhenIhadtobutneverwantedtowastemyowntimelisteningtootherstryingtoimpressme—andmostthoughtIwascoldandstiffanyway.
Howcouldtwopeoplemovesofarawayfromeachotherwithouteversensingit?Howcouldtheyloseeachotherwhileseeingeachothereveryday?
ItstartedwhenIfoundtheleopard-printthongmixedinourlaundry.Ithastobeamistake,Ithought.Wasitminesomehow?OrAmy’s?WasJimsecretlyacross-dresser?Butthepartofmethathadalwaysreliedonnoonebutmyselftookover.Ihidthethongfromhim.IcontrolledthepartofmethatwantedtoconfronthimimmediatelybecauseIknewthatifIdid,Iwouldneverhaveproof.
Istartedmakingmistakesatwork.Icouldkeeponlysomuchofmyselfundercontrol—sloppyerrors,forgottenemails,unprepared-forimportantpresentations,incompletefinancialrecords.Whenmyengagementmanager,Martin,askedifsomethingwasgoingonathome,Iliedandsaidno.IcouldnotadmitthetruthtoanyonebecauseIcouldbarelyfaceitmyself.
IdidnotfindanythingonJim’selectronics,soIfinallyaddedspyprogramstohislaptopandhisphonetologeverykeystroke.IwatchedhimwiththehundredeyesofArgos.Iwasthetechnicaloneinourrelationshipandhadsetupallourgadgets.IhadgivenmyselfaccesssoIcouldrecoverourinformationifJimeverinadvertentlylockedhimselfout,whichhehaddonebefore.Meanwhile,Ismiledathimasifmyheartwerenotbreakinginside.
Itdidnottakelong.Acolleagueonthevergeofadivorcehadoncesaidtome:Ifamantakeshisphonewithhimintothebathroomortoshoweratnight,watchout.ButwhenJimhadstarteddoingthosethings,Ihadrationalizedthemaway.Ihadbeencompletelytakenin.
ThetextmessagescameinasIwaspreparingtoleaveforalatemorningmeeting.Firstfromher:Gotmyphonebacktoday.Thinkingoflickingu,thismathclass’ssoboring.Thenhisresponse:Youmakemelosemymind.Thecoldrosefromthefloortomeetme,asifIwerefalling.Firstthebetrayal,thatmyJimcoulddothistome,andthentheslowrealizationthattheother“woman”wasachildofsixteen.Ihadsunktoourunrelentinglivingroomfloor,myentirelifedisintegratingaroundme,allthepiecesflyingawaylikeleavesfromatree.
Inloveandlife,weneverknowwhenwearetellingourselvesstories.Wearetheultimateunreliablenarrators.Ifwedesiretoforgivesomeone,wetellourselvesoneversion—hedidnotmeanit,heissorryandwillneverdoitagain.Andwhenwearefinallyreadytowalkaway,somethingelse—hehasalwaysbeenalyingbastard,Inevershouldhavetrustedhimandyoucouldalwaysseethelieinhiseyes.Thatday,Icalledinsicktoworkandreadtheirtextstoeachother,eachonedroppinglikeabrickagainstthewoundedfleshofmyheart.IwaitedforJimtocomehome.Hewaslate.Hestoppedshortwhenhesawmesittingatthetablewithmycomputeropen,myheadleaningbackagainstthewallofourkitchen.Iturnedthescreentoshowhimtherecordofhistextmessages.
Ididnotneedtosayaword.Hisfacefrozeandslowlyflushedadeepred.ThenallofmycomposureleftmeandIstartedtokeenlikeananimal:Sylvie,whohatedtocry.HecameoverandheldmeinhisarmsandIlethim.He,themanIhadallowedintothemostintimate,hiddenpartofmyself,stillfeltcomforting.
Ikeptsaying,“Youcheatedonme,youcheatedonme,”asiftoconvincemyself.
“OhmyGod,Sylvie,whathaveIdone?Iamsosorry.It’sover,honey.I’llneverseeheragain.”
Forafewminutes,weformedatruceinwhichweheldeachother.UntilthememoryofwhatIhadseenthatdaycrawledintomymind.I’mcountingthehoursuntilwecanbetogetheragain.NothingelsematterswhenI’mwithyou.
Ipulledaway,stillheavingasIspoke.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthis.”
Hepinchedthebridgeofhisnose,closedhiseyes,andsighed.“Pleasebelieveme.Idon’tloveher.Youwerealwaysgoneandshewasthere,andImissedyouso.Shewasjustastand-inforyou,forthewaythingswerewithus.”
Butinsteadofmollifyingme,thisonlyenragedmefurther.Ijabbedmyfingerinhisface,myvoicerising.“Asixteen-year-oldgirlcouldtakemyplace?Ilookedherup.She’sastudentatyourschool,Jim.She’shalfyourage.Whatthehellareyoudoing?”
Hefroze,andthengrippedthesidesofhisheadasifhecouldblockoutmywords.Hegroaned.“Whatagoddamnmess.There’snoexcuse.Iknow.It’sjustyou’realwayssocompetent,sobrilliantateverything.Youdon’treallyneedme.”
Ipoundedmyfistagainstmythigh.“Andthischilddid.Youcan’thandleasuccessfulwoman,soyouhadtofindagirlwhothinksyou’rereallysomething.Fuckyou.”
Hisjawhardenedandacold,hardglintflashedinhiseyes.“Sylvie,don’tdoanythingrash.Icouldlosemyjob.”
Hedaredtowarnme?“Shouldn’tyouhavethoughtofthatbeforeyoudecidedtohaveanaffairwithaminor?”Iwasalmostyelling.Theneighborsmustbehavingafit.IpressedmynailsintomyskinsohardIwasafraidIwouldstartbleeding.Heshouldsufferasmuchasme.“Don’tunderestimateme,Jim.I’llseeyoupayforthis.”
“Youvindictivebitch,”hesaid,andslappedmeacrossthefacesohardmyheadslammedagainstthewall.Ifellontothefloor,stunnedbytheblow,myvisionunfocused.Itwasalltoomuch.Howhadthishappened?Howcouldthisbereal?Icurledinonmyself,sobbing.
Therewasaslamandhewasgone.
Chapter20
Amy
Sunday,May8
It’sMother’sDaymorningandLukas’srealgrandmaandgrandpaarecomingtovisit.LukascallshisgrandmotherOmaandhisgrandfatherOpaintheDutchway,soIdothesame,inaccordancewiththeChinesetraditionoffollowingalonginnamingfamily.Omaistinyandroundwithafritzofhairshedyesjet-black.Opaisonlyabittaller,butskinnierandwhite-haired.Theyremindmeofasetofmatchinggardengnomes.
Whentheyenterthehouse,Istandandwaittogreetthemasisproper,butthennoneofusknowwhichtraditionstouse.OmacloseshereyesandpursesherlipstokissmethreetimesatthesametimeIopenmyarmsforahug.IdropmyarmstomysidesandextendmyhandwhileOpaplaceshispalmstogetherandbowstome.Weallshiftonourfeet,andOmasayssomethingtomeinChinese.Heraccentisreallyweird.WhenIlookatherblankly,OpachirpsinDutch.
Finally,Omagivesmeaweaklittlewaveofherhandandsays,“Hello.”
Ifollowthemintothelivingroom.Willempatsmeontheshoulderandwinks.Iwishhewouldstoptouchingmeateveryopportunity.Iamdismayedtofindthatallofthechairshavebeenarrangedinonelargecircle.IamforcedtositbetweenWillemandLukasonthecouch.Weallfaceeachother,everyexpression,gesture,andwordlaidbaretoeveryoneelseinthegroup.IfthisiswhatDutchpartiesarelike,howintheworlddotheymanagetoflirthere?
Silenceagain.IclearmythroatandsaytoWillem,“Areyourparentscomingtoo?”
Helenaenterstheroomwiththecoffeeandteaandsays,“TheydiedinChina.Longago.”
Oh.WesitinsilenceasHelenapassesaroundaplateofboterspritsen,swirledbutteryshortbreadcookiesthatmeltinyourmouth.Imissedbreakfast,sincethefamilyateextraearlytoday,soItaketwo,eventhoughInoticeOpawatchingme.WhentheplategetstoOmaattheend,itisempty.
Icringeinmyseat.
Omawavesherpudgyhandslikeshedidn’twantacookieanyway,butHelena,carefulnottolookatme,goestothekitchenandreturnswithasingleboterspritsontheplate,whichshethengivestoOma.Opawaggleshiseyebrowsatme.
“Ididn’tknowwewereonlysupposedtotakeoneeach,”IwhispertoLukas.ItrytoignoreWillem,whositsclosetome,hislegspressedagainstmythighandknee.Hehasswiveledhisheadtostareatme.
Lukassnickers.“WelcomeinHolland.Peoplecountthenumberofcookieshere.”
Willemtapsmeonthebackofmyhandandsays,“Didyoudosomethingwithyourhair,Amy?Youseemdifferenttoday.”
Itrynottomoveawaytooabruptly.“No.It’sjustthatI’mwearingmycontactlenses.”
WillemthrowshisheadbackandlaughsasifI’vemadeagreatjoke.“Ah,thatisit.Youlookverymuchlike…”
“Sylvie,”Helenafinishesforhimwhenhisvoicetrailsoff.Thelinesaroundherlipsandeyestighten.Shebaresherteethinawaythatismoreagestureofaggressionthanasmile.“HowareyouenjoyingHollandsofar?”
“Verymuch.ButwhydoyourparentsliveinBelgium?”Shehadtoldmetheydroveinthismorning.IsitsafetohaveOpabehindthewheelofacar?
“Igrewupinthisvillage,butwhenWillemandImarried,wetookovermyparents’restaurantinAmsterdam.TheyhadabusinessopportunityinAntwerp,sotheymovedaway.Theyhaveanumberofrestaurantstherenow.”Sothat’swhyHelenahadtohijackourgrandmatocareforLukasandSylvieinsteadofaskingherownparentstohelp.
Omaleansforwardandsaystome,“Howyousister?”
MystomachchurnsandIfeelmyinsidesquiver.Iwringmyhands.“Wedon’tknow.Noonehasheardfromher.”
LukastranslatesformewhileOmacluckssadly,shakingherhead.Herubshishandoverhisfaceandmassageshiseyes,asifhe’sasworriedasIam.
I’dbeenhopingtobringthisuplater,afterOmaandOpaleft,butIcan’twaitanylonger.Wehavetotakeactionbeforeit’stoolate.IturntoHelena.“Actually,I’vebeenconsideringsomething.Iheardaboutanorganizationthatsearchesformissingpeople.”
Helena’sheadjerksbackandshegivesmeanincredulouslook.“Whatisthis?”
Icontinueanyway.Theyhavetoagree.Wehavenootherchoice.“Theyhaveaveryimpressivewebsite,inbothDutchandEnglish.Icouldshowyou.”
Shetapsherlipstick-reddenedlipswithafinger.Hervoiceishigh.“Andwhowillpayforit?”
Isthatallshecaresabout?They’rerichandSylviewaspracticallytheirdaughter.Whatdoesmoneymatteratatimelikethis?I’mfumingandcrossmyarmsasIstareatthetwouneatencookiesonmyteasaucer.“Idon’tknowyet.We’llfigureitout,butthemostimportantthingisthatSylviemightneedourhelp.”
“Sheisfine.”Lukas’seyesarefeverishandoverbright.Hisgazedartsaroundtheroom.“Shehastobefine.”
“Ithoughtyouwereonmyside,”Isnap.Ithrustmyarmsoutwide.Ihatethemall.“Don’tyouwanttofindher?”
“NoonewantstofindSylviemorethanIdo!”Lukasyells.Hedarestojabafingerinmyface.OmaandOpacan’tunderstandawordandappearalarmed.“WherethehelldoyouthinkIgoeverynight?”
Islaphishandaway.I’mshoutingaswellnow.“What?You’relookingforherbyyourself?That’sfine,butwhycan’twebringinprofessionalstoo?Whyareyouallresistingmeonthis?”
“Calmdown.”WillemtriestoputhisarmaroundbothmeandLukas.
Ijumpupoffthecouch,upsettingthesauceronmylap.Mycookiesfallontothefloorandbreak,leavingcrumbseverywhere.“Oh,I’msorry.”Iamalmostintears.Ifalltomykneestocleanupthemess.
“Stop,Iwilldoit.”Helenagrabsmebythearmandpullsmeupright.Shesettlesmebackonthecouchandquicklyremovesthesaucerandcookies.Shespeaksslowlyandclearly,asifIamanimbecile.“Thisorganizationisnotnecessary.Itisawasteofmoney.Shewillturnup.Youmarkmywords.”
Ineedtoremaincalm;alienatingthemwon’thelp.“Iknowyouwanttobelievethat,butwhatifit’snottrue?”Allofmydespairsinksintothepitofmystomach.I’vebeentryingSylvie’semailandphonenonstopandthere’sbeennoresponse.It’sbeentoolong.Myhopeisdeflatinglikeanoldballoon.Thepossibilitiesforahappyendingaredwindling.
Lukas,stiff,uptightprickthatheis,says,“Weshouldnotinvolveextrapeople.Wewillgetinthewayofthepolice.IhaveheardofthesetypesoforganizationsandIdonottrustthem.Theyspecializeinfindingpeoplewhoare—”Heswallowshiswordssuddenlyandhugshischest,rockingonthecouch.ThereissuchalookofdespairandanguishinhiseyesthatIalmostfeelsorryforhim.
Willemsaysinhissmoothvoice,“Idonotthinkweshouldinterfereeither.Thepoliceknowtheirjob.Weshouldletthemdoit.”
Opa,whohasprobablyonlyunderstoodthewordpolice,says,“Wewantnotrouble.”
Andeveryonetakesthisasthefinalwordonthesubject.Isitonthecouchandtrynottoscream.ThisisjustlikedealingwithMaandPa:everyoneafraidofanytinychange.Whyaretheyallsoscared?Ican’tgetridofthenaggingfeelingthattherearethingsnooneistellingmeaboutSylvie’svisit.Butshestillhasn’tcomehomeandifIdon’tdoanything,it’spossiblethatsheneverwill.
It’snowMondaymorning.TheneighborshaveheardrumorsofSylvie’sdisappearance,andyesterdayevening,afterOmaandOpa’sstrainedvisit,Helenafoundacasseroleandabouquetoftulipsbythefrontdoor.OnlyafewofthepeopleinourbuildinginNewYorkevenknowwhoSylvieis.Iamgratefulforthiskindness.
“Thatisthethingaboutasmallvillage,”Helenasaid.“Wearealldependentoneachother.”
WillemandHelenahadtakentheweekendoffforMother’sDayandplantogototheirrestauranttoday.“Iftheworkersdon’tseethebossesregularly,”Helenasays,“theygetuptonogood.”Theystarttheircartoleave,andInoticethenext-doorneighbor,atall,stoopedoldergentleman,wavingforthemtostopattheendofthedriveway.Willemrollsdownhiswindow,andthemansayssomethingandthenclaspshimontheshoulderbeforeHelenaandWillemdriveoff.Theneighborcatchessightofmewatchingfromthewindowandgivesmeafriendlynodbeforereturningtohishouse.
There’snosignofLukas.IgointothekitchenandlightsomeincenseatthealtarforGrandmaandthegods.AsIbowtothephotoofGrandma,IseeMaintheshapeofherface,thiswomanIneverknew.Grandma,pleasekeepSylviesafe.IcalledMayesterdaytoupdateherandtowishherahappyMother’sDay.Shesoundedsofrailandsad,withbothherdaughtersfaraway.AfterIchangethewaterinthelittlevaseofflowersinfrontofthealtar,Iphonethepoliceagain.
Daniquesoundssurprisedtohearfromme,butsheiswarmandpolite.Therehavebeennofurtherdevelopments.Yes,theyarecheckingallpossibilitiesandiftheyfindanything,theywillcertainlycontactusrightaway.Haveaniceday,goodbye.
MyhandsareshakingwhenIdisconnecttheline.ThenItakeoutthecardFilipgavemeandcallEpsilon.
TheconnectionisbadbutIreachtheKarinthatFiliphadmentionedandshesoundssmartandcompetent.IexplainthesituationwithSylvie,andshesays,“Iwillcometoyourhouseandwecantalkfurther.Istomorrowallright?”
Awaveofrelieffloodsthroughme.Atlast,someonewillingtotakeaction.“Canyoutellmewhatyourfeesare?”Iholdmybreath,waitingforananswer.IhaveneverwantedanythingasmuchasIwantthiswomantocomeandhelpme.Iwouldpayanything,somehow.
Hersoftvoicefadesinandoutasshesays,“Weare[static]—notneedtoworry.”
Idecidetoleaveitatthatfornow.
Thenextday,afterHelenaandWillemleave,IwaitanxiouslyforKarintoarriveandtextFilipagaintothankhim—incasehemissedmyearliertexts.Hestillhasn’tresponded.I’msurehisscheduleisbusyandheforgetstocheckhisphone.IampleasedtoseeLukasroaroffonhisVespaaswell.He’scarryinghiscamerabag.Ihopethismeanshewillbeawayformuchoftheday.Ishouldn’tbesneakingaroundtheirhouselikethiswhenI’maguest.ButSylvie’smoreimportant.Pleaseletthiswomannotbeafraud.
Karinpullsupafewminutesearlyinablackminivanwithapetbarrierandtwolargedogsinside.Shestridestowardmeandshakesmyhandwithafirmgrip.She’sprobablyinhermidforties,withshorttawnyhairandstocky,muscularlegs.Sheisdressedlikeahikerinheavy-dutyclimbingpantsandsolidboots.“CanIbringthedogsinside?”
Hereyesaredirect,hergripfirm.Sheseemssolidanddependable.Maybethiswillworkoutafterall.Irelaxalittle.“Wehaveacat.Wouldthatbeaproblem?”
“Ohno,theyareverywell-behaved.”Sheclicksleashesontothedogs,onebrownandoneblack,andleadstheminside.Despitetheirtails,whicharewavingfuriously,thedogsarecalm.IhearahissfromthestaircaseandseeaflashoforangeasCouscousboltsupstairs.
ThedogssitquietlyatKarin’sfeet.Imakecoffeewhilewechatabit.She’swarmingmeupbeforewegettotherealdeal.IlearnthatthesmallerblackdogisnamedFeyenoordandthebrownoneAjax,aftertworivalDutchsoccerteams.
Itakethecoffeetothediningroomtable.Aftershesits,Ipouruseachacupandthenstarttopaceinfrontofher.Ishouldsittobepolite,butthere’stoomuchadrenalinecoursingthroughme.Thedogsperkupatthemotionandfollowmewiththeirheads,waggingtheirtails.Thiscouldbeit.Thiscouldbeourbreakthrough.Oritcouldbeyetanotherbigdisappointment.“Socanyoutellmeabitmoreabouthowyouwork?”
Karinleansbackinherchairandgestureswithherlefthand.“Wearemainlyavolunteerorganization.Itdependsonthecase,butmostlyweuseourdogs,whichhavebeenspeciallytrained.Inadditionwealsoemploysonar,underwatercameras,GPS,groundradar,metaldetectors,andmagnetometers.Ifweneedtosearchinthewater,wehaveourownspecializeddivingteam.Thedogscangreatlyreducethepossibleareaandthenourdivers,forexample,candoamorespecializedsearch.”
Yes!ThisisexactlywhatI’dbeenhopingfor.Istartbouncingfromfoottofoot.Ajaxgivesalittlebark,wagginghistail,butquietsafterKarinshusheshim.“That’swonderful!You’llbeabletofollowSylvie’strailandbringherbackfromwherevershe’sgone.”Iambeaming.
Karin’sfaceturnssevere.“Wewilldoourbest.DoyouknowwhywearenamedEpsilon?”
Ishakemyhead.Whydoesshelooksoseriousallofasudden?
Herbrowneyespiercestraightthroughtomyheart.Shesaysgently,“Becausewhileweapproachthelimitofwhatthehumansoulcanbear,wealwaysattempttoremainasmallpositiveforce.Sometimes,Amy,wearethetakersofthelasthope.Doyouunderstandme?Wecannottakeonacaseunlessthefamilyacceptsthispossibility.”
Idrawinashudderingbreath.ShethinksSylviemightbedead.It’snottrue.Iknowit’snotbutIneedtoplayalongsoshe’llhelpme.Inasmallvoice,Isay,“Iunderstand.”
ThensheasksmeanumberofquestionsaboutSylvie,andtakesdownthelicenseplateofherrentalcar,whichthefamilyalsogavetothepolice.“Canyoutellmeaboutherdailyhabits?Doesshehaveajobhere?Anyhobbies?”
“Sylviemainlycametoseeourgrandmotherbeforeshepassedaway.”
“SoSylviedidnotleavethehousemuch?”
Iscratchmyhead,tryingtoremember.“Idon’treallyknowbecauseIwasn’there.Iwastoldthatshewastakingsomekindofmusiclessons.Bassorcelloorsomething,Ithink.ButIdon’tknowwhere.”
Karinpursesherlips.“Thatcouldbeimportant.Iwouldliketoknowwherethelessonswereandtherouteshetooktogetthere.Alsoifyoucouldfindoutiftherewereanyspotsshelikedtovisitinparticular.”
“Allright,I’llask.”Iworrymylipwithmyteeth.“Whataboutyourfees?”
Karinwavesasquarehand.“Oh,thatisnotaproblem.”
Iknowitisunwise,butIletitgo.Iwantherhelptoomuch.Icannotbearanythingelseonmyshouldersrightnow.
Shewantstowalkthepropertywithherdogs.Ifollowalongasthedogssniffallofthebushesandtrees.Itisacloudlessdayandtheairsmellslikespring
Wepauseunderneathoneofthetreesinthefrontyard.Thedappledlightplaysoverourfaces,firstlight,thendark.
Karinasks,“IsthereanythingelseaboutSylviethatmightbeuseful?Placesorpeopleshelikes?Thingssheisafraidof?”
Ileanbackagainsttheroughbarkofthetrunkandfiddlewithmyhair,tryingtothink.“Shecan’tswim.TherewasaprophecythatSylviewoulddiebywaterandsoshe’ssupposedtoavoidit.Whenababyisborn,Chineseparentssometimesaskafengshuimaster,akindofmysticalspecialist,towritetheirdestiny.It’sjustsuperstition.”
“Weshouldsearchthewater,tobesure.”
Itipmyheadtotheside,givingherasidelongglance.Shedoesn’tseemtobethemysticaltype.“Why?Doyoubuyintothatstuff?”
Shestaresintothedistance.“ItdoesnotmatterifIbelieve.WhatmattersisifSylviebelieves.”
Afterthis,Karinbidsmegoodbyeandtellsmetheywillbegincombingtheareaimmediatelybutthattheirmostintensivesearchwillstartthefollowingweekend.PleaseletSylviebebackbeforethen.
Asshepullsoutofthedriveway,Irealizeshedidn’taskforanitemofSylvie’sclothingoranythingelsewithascentonit.Iamabouttorunafterthecarandcallherbackwhenunderstandingstrikeslikeablowtomychest.
KarinisnotlookingforSylvie.Sheissearchingforherbody.
Chapter21
Sylvie
Friday,April22
LukasandIwerepackedandabouttoleavefortheairport.ButwhenIwenttoGrandma’sroomtosaygoodbye,itseemedlikeshewashardlybreathing.Shehadshrunksodeeplyintoherbedthattheshapeofherbodywasbarelyvisiblebeneaththesheets,asifshewerealreadystartingtoleaveus.Icouldfeeldeathintheroom,likeapresencewaitingbehindtheheavycurtainstoclaimherfully.IsahoveredoverGrandma,astrainedlookonherusuallycheerfulface,fussingwiththeoxygentank.
“Maybeweshouldn’t—”Myeyelidsfelthotandgummy.HowcouldIleaveGrandmalikethis?Mytimewithherwasprecious.EverybiteIfedher,everysongIsangtoher,Ifearedwouldbethelast.
Sheopenedhermouthbutnowordscameout.Shestartedtocough,adelicateskullfightingforair.Ihelpedhersitupright.Sheheldontomyarmandpulledmyeartowardherlips.“Go.”
Withabarelydiscerniblegesture,shepointedtowardTasha,whosatonthebedsidetablewithherserenesmile,andthentotheKuanYininthecorneraltar.“Iaminthehandsofthegoddess.”
Lukasbentoverthetwoofus,hisforeheadfurrowed.“Wecouldstillcancel.Itwouldbenoproblem.”
“Itisyourbirthdayweekend,”Grandmasaid.Afteralltheseyears,shehadremembered.“Ididnotcallyoubackheretowatchmedie.IwouldneverwishthatburdenontheonesIlovemost.Ionlywantedtoseeyoulive.Go.Forme.”
Itookherfrailbodyinmyarmsandmurmuredintoherwispyhair,“Iloveyou.Wewillbebackinafewdays.”
Shenoddedandmadeanimpatientgesturewithherhandforustoleave.WhenLukasbentdowntosaygoodbye,shecaughthisshirt.“Takecareofher.”
Hehuggedherandsaid,“Iwill.”
Hernextwordswereawhisperofair.“Openyourhearts,behappy.”
AtourmeetingpointatSchipholAirport,IspottedEstellefromadistance.Sheworeanexoticlinendressthataccentuatedherdefinedcollarbonesunderneathafringe-trimmedoperastoleinrichbeige,thesamecolorashergoldenskin.Shegrabbedmefirst,kissingmefullyonthelips,practicallystickinghertonguedownmythroat.ThatwasEstelle.“Ialwayswantedtodothat,yougorgeousthing.”
Laughing,Ipushedheraway.“Wheredidyougetthatdress?It’slovely.”
“IhaveatailorinBombaywhodesignsthemforme.IgotohimwheneverIflythere.Iwillgetoneforyounexttime.”ThensheturnedtoLukas.“Andnowyou.”ShekissedhimthoroughlyaswelluntilamasculinehandlandedonLukas’shairandpulledhimawayfromher.
“Ihavehadenoughofthat,”Filipsaid,eyesbright,fingersstilltangledinLukas’sblacklocks,lookingfineinhisstraight-leggeddarkjeans,tailoredblackjacket,andanavyslim-fitbutton-downshirtdecoratedwithatinydiamondpattern.Seeingthetwoofthemtogetheralmoststoppedmybreath.HegaveLukasanaffectionateswatonthebackofhishead.
“Yousavedme,”Lukassaid,pretendingtowipesweatfromhisbrow.
“Yeah,right.Youlookasproudasanapewithsevendicks,”Filipsaid.“Andwhatthehellareyouwearing?Couldyounotfindsomethingabitnicer?”
“What?”Baffled,Lukaslookeddownathisbatteredleatherjacketandfadedjeansabovethesolidlowhikingbootshealwayswore.Ihidasmile.
“Itmightbeagoodideatopackalittlemoreinthere,”Filipsaid,gesturingatthesmallcanvasbackpackLukashadslungoverhisshoulderthatsomehowheldallhisclothingandtoiletries.“Andabitlessofthat.”FilippointedtothegiantblackcamerabagfilledwithlensesandequipmentLukastookeverywhere.
“Ibroughtcleanunderwear,”mutteredLukas.
“Comeon,youdeliciousthing,”Estellesaid,linkingherarmthroughLukas’s.“Wehadbettergothroughsecurity.”ShepausedtoletaflockofAsiantouristspass.Attheendcameanelderlywomaninawheelchair,pushedbyayoung,attractivewoman,probablyhergranddaughter.
“Wait.”Istoodthere,frozenamidthebustleofthecrowd.“IcannotstopthinkingaboutGrandma.MaybeIshouldstay.”
Theyallstopped.Filipreachedoutandrubbedapieceofmyhairbetweenhisfingers.“Itisyourdecision,belleSylvie,butIthinkyourgrandmawouldwantyoutoenjoyyourbirthday.”
Icastmyeyesovermylittlegroupoffriends—surprisedtheylookedconcernedforme—andcoveredhishandwithmine.“Youhaveitright.AndIhaveneverbeentoVenicebefore.”
IdozedontheairplaneagainstFilip’sshoulder.HewokemeaswewereabouttolandatMarcoPoloAirport.WereEstelleandLukassnugglingintheseatsbehindustoo?Icranedmynecktolookoutthewindow.Isawlargeislandssetinaturquoisesea,andawidewaterhighwaysetoffbylongwoodenpilings,whereboatsandwatertaxisspedintwodirections.Iwasinanalternatereality.
Wegrabbedourluggageafterwedisembarked.Outsidetheterminal,eventheairsmelleddifferent,likeseaweedandcutgrass.Here,IwouldforgetaboutJim.Here,IwouldbecomeanewSylvie,happyandfreewithherfriends.Wewalkedtothedock,wherewedebatedtheferryoramoreexpensivewatertaxi.Intheend,sincetherewerefourofus,wedecidedtosplurgeonthetaxi.
Ourdriver,acuteItalianguywearingatightT-shirtandsunglasses,castlongingglancesatEstelletheentiretriptoourhotel.Shelaughedandwavedattheboatsthatpassedwhileherhairtossedinthewind.OnthesamewaterhighwayIhadseenfromtheair,wespedpasttheAlilagunawaterbus.Itwasjammedwithtouristspressedagainstwindows,clickingpictures.Lukascameandstoodbesideme,hisshouldersolidagainstmine.WewatchedItalianteenagerscruisebyinspeedboats,andwealthyoldercouplesenjoyingtheirridesinluxuriousyachts.
BythetimewepassedtheislandofMuranoandthencurvedaroundthecoastofCastello,thesunhungabovethehorizonlikeamoltengoldmedallion.IhadexpectedVenicetobeoverrated.Everyoneknewitwasinundatedwithtourists,theauthenticVeniceeradicatedbymoney-makingshops,thecityslowlysinkingbeneaththeweightofitsownclichés.ItoohadreadDeathinVenice.AndyetIwascaptivatedbytheskylineofthirteenth-centurybuildingslitbyglobesoflight,thesilhouetteofthewingedLionofVeniceatopitstallgranitecolumnagainstapink-streakedsunset.Ayellow-and-orangecraftspedpastpaintedwiththewordsAmbulanza,VeneziaEmergenza:anambulanceboat.Yes,Venicewasamyth.Butitsmagicwasrealtoo.
Lukaswastakingphotos,hiscompetenthandscaressinghiscamera.Wecruisedpastlongalleywaysofwaterlitbysmallcaféswherepeoplechattedamidtheglowofcandlelight.Tinybridgescrossedtranquilcanalswhiletouriststhrongedandpackedintostandswithglitteringsouvenirs.Thewatertaxidrewuptoourhotel,rightontheGrandCanalnexttoPiazzaSanMarco.
EstelleandtheguysheadedoutforalatedinnerbutIdecidedtogotobed.Thetriphaddrainedme.Onceinside,Ineverwantedtoleavemyhotelroomagain,anoasisofvelvetsageandgoldtrim.Thickcurtainskeptthenightatbaywhilehand-blownglasslampsbloomedonthewalls,elegantlyarchedconfectionsofspringgreenleaves.ThehotelclerkhadleftabottleofchilledPellegrinoonice,coveredwithafineembroiderednapkin.IlaybackagainsttheplushpillowsonthebedandwishedIcouldlivefromhoteltohotel,neverstopping,neverallowingtherestofmylifetocatchupwithme.
Thenextmorning,IfoundLukasinthehotelrestaurantleaningovertheterracerailing,snappingphotosofthecoveredgondolasdockednearby.Gondoliersintheirtypicalblack-and-white-stripedT-shirtssteppedfromboattoboat,checkingandcleaningbeforetheirworkdaybegan.Thecoolmorningairplayedwithhisshaggyhairasraysofsunlightcaughtthegoldandredstrandsamongthedark.
“Youareupearly,”Isaid.
Hejumped,andturnedtofaceme.“Congratulations.”Hebentandkissedmethreetimes.Hisfreshlyshavencheeksmelledofcitrus,cedar,andahintofvanilla.“Thirty-threeyears.Andjustyesterday,youwereonlynine,itseems.”
Ilookedintohiseyes.IcouldnotrecallthelasttimeIhadfeltthiscontent.“Iamgladwedecidedtocomehere.”
“Comeon,Iamhungry.EstelleandFiliparenotwhatyouwouldcallmorningpeople.”
Wefilledourplatesfromthebuffet—freshcroissantsandpastries,scrambledeggsandfruitsalad—andsettledonasun-drenchedtablenexttothewater.Thewaiterbroughtusteaandcoffeewithwarmmilk,alongwithfreshjusd’orange
Icrackedopenalittlejarofstrawberrypreservesandsmearedsomeacrossmycroissant.“ThismustbethemostbeautifulplaceIhaveeverbeen.”
Lukaslookedoutoverthebegoniasthatfloweredalongourrailingtothedarkcyanwatersunderneathacloudlessceruleansky.Thenhesmiledatme,hiseyeswarmanddark.“Ihaveneverseenanythinglovelier.”
“Notflirtingsoearlyinthemorning,Ihope.”Filip’stonewasdry.HenowstoodbesideourtablewithEstelle.Theybothworedarksunglasses.“Congratulations,littletreasure.”
Theyeachkissedmethreetimes,andthenFilipwenttofindfoodwhileEstellesatandslowlysippedherblackcoffee.“Oh,Ireallyneededthis.Now,whatarewegoingtodotocelebrateSylvie’sbirthday?”
“Idonotreallywanttodoanythingspecial,”Isaid.
Shepushedherglassesupontoherheadtostareatme.“Nonsense.”
Filipsethisplatedown,pulledoutachair,andsaid,“Shallwegoexploringduringthedayandmaybeanicedinnertonight?”
“IhavealwayswantedtoseethePalazzoDucale,”Lukassaid.
“BothSylvieandLukasareinVeniceforthefirsttime,right?”saidEstelle.“Youknowwhatthatmeans:gondolaride!Ourgifttoyou.”
LukasandIbothgroaned.
“Icannotswim,”Isaid.
“Really?”saidFilip.Heleanedinclose,loweredhislashes,andmurmured,“Iwillhavetoteachyousometime.”
“Noonefallsoutofagondola,”saidEstelle,throwingherhandsupinexasperation.“Noteventhereallyclumsytourists.Andifyoudid,Iwouldsaveyou.Ihavesixswimmingdiplomas.”
“IrefusetoletanItalianguysingtome,”Isaid,crossingmyarmsinfrontofmychest.
“Metoo,”saidLukas,noddingemphatically.“Especiallyifheishairy.”
Filipliftedoneeyebrow,histoneturningwicked.“Whichisexactlywhyyoumustbothundergothismoststereotypedoftouristexperiences.Thinkofitasariteofpassage.”
WespentthemorningatthelavishPalazzoDucale.Afterweclimbedthetwenty-four-caratgiltstaircaseScalad’Oro,Istoppedbeforeastonefaceofagrimacingmanwithpenetratingeyesandanopenmouth.
“Afraid?”askedFilip,leaninginclose.Icouldfeelthewarmthofhistightmusclesthroughhisthinshirt,pressingagainstmyback.
“Whatisit?”
“Boccadileone,themouthofthelion.Thiswasapostboxforsecretaccusations,wherepeoplewouldslipnotesabouttheirneighbors.TheCouncilofTenwouldthenleadaninvestigationbythedreadedsecurityservice.”
Ishivered.“Ominous.”
“Everysecrethasitsprice.Comeon,letusgototheBridgeofSighs.”
HetookmyhandandledmetothebridgewhereitissaidtheprisonerssighedattheirlastviewsofVenicebeforetheywereledtotheirdarkenedcells.Insidethedungeons,thebitsofgraffitietchedintothestonewallsweretheonlyevidenceofthelivesthathadbeenexhaustedthere.
Forlunchweonlyhadtimetograbslicesofthin,crispypizzafromawomanwithleatheryskinandafloweredscarfcoveringherhairbeforewewereofftotheBasilicadiSanMarco,withitslavishspires,Byzantinedomes,andpatternedmarble.Onallofmybusinesstrips,IhadnevertakenthetimetoenjoytheplacesIhadvisited.Therehadalwaysbeenaclientoracolleaguetoimpress,anotherpresentationtoprepare.NowIcouldjustbe.WehoppedonthevaporettowaterbusforatouroftheGrandCanal,glidingpastornatebuildingswhilethecanalitselfwascrowdedwithcargobarges,kayaks,deliveryboats,andwatertaxis.IwasdelightedtoseeaTotalgasstationsetbyadock,servingboatsinsteadofcars.
Inthelateafternoon,Estelleannounceditwastimeforourgondolaride.Shehadalreadysecuredourvaporettoandmuseumpasses,andnowshebargainedefficientlywithagondolierbeforecallingusover.Naturally,shetoldhimitwasmybirthday,soIhadtheseatofhonorwithLukas,theotherVenetianvirgin,asEstellecalledus.EstelleandFilipsettledintoredvelvetcushionsacrossfromus.InsteadoftheflirtatiousItaliansingerIhadbeendreading,asmallwhite-hairedgentlemanclimbedaboard.Heworeaplasticunioncardpinnedtohisneatbutton-downshirt.Thegondoliershovedoff,andtheelderlymanturnedonthespeakerathisfeetandbegantosinginabeautifulbaritone,hisvoiceamplifiedbythesurroundingbuildingsandthenarrowcanals.
EvenFilipclosedhiseyestolisten,asmallsmilesignalinghisprofessionalapprovalofthemusicalproceedings.Hewasalmostunbearablygood-looking:darklashesagainstfairskin,thecynicalquirktohisfulllips.MyphonepingedwithatextfromAmy,wishingmeagreatbirthdayandaskingwhenwecouldchat.Iquicklywrotebackwithanexcuse,notwantinghertoknowIhadleftGrandma,thenputawaymymobileandresumedstudyingFilip.IfAmyevermethim,shewouldfallhard.Hewasexactlyhertype:musical,funny,smart.
LukaswrappedhisarmaroundmeandIsnuggledintohisside.NoonemademefeelsaferthanLukas.
“DoyourememberthevalentineIgaveyou?Beforeyouleft?”hemurmured.
Iwrinkledmyforehead.“Younevergavemeanythinglikethat.”
“Yes,IdidbutIdidnotsignit.IleftitinyourdeskonValentine’sDay.”
Ithoughtback.Therehadbeensomething.Ihadbeensurprisedtofindit,especiallysince,inthosedays,Valentine’sDaywasnotreallycelebratedhere—acrumpledpieceofredconstructionpaperintheshapeofaheart.Whathaditsaid?Istartedtolaugh.“Thatwasyou?Ithinkthenotecomparedmetoatoeorsomething?”
Henodded,satisfied.“‘Withoutyou,Iamlikeasockwithoutafoot.’NowyouknowhowIfeltaboutyou.”
Ichuckled,andthensurrenderedtothemusicfloatingbetweenthebuildings,thelappingofthewateragainstthehulloftheboat,therhythmicstrokeofthegondolier’soars.Thisclosetothehouses,Icouldseethewaytheytilted,thecrumblingbricksaggingintothewaves,themossthatgrewandmultipliedalongthewaterline,bitsofgraffitiscribbledhereandthere.Thevulnerabilityofthisplaceonlymademeloveitmore.
Lukaspulledmecloserandrestedhischeekagainstmyhair.ThoughEstellechatteredawayandFilipseemedtobeasleep,Irealizedtheywerebothwatchingus:EstelleoutofthecornerofhereyeandFilipfromunderhalf-closedlids.Myface,neck,andearsbegantofeelhot.IstretchedandpulledmyselfoutofLukas’sarms.Athissurprisedglance,Ishruggedalittleandsatupstraighter,puttingsomedistancebetweenus.
Whenthesingertookabreak,FilipspoketohiminfluentItalian.
Lukasturnedtomeandmouthed,Show-off
EstelleknockedherloaferagainstFilip’sshoe.“Okay,weareimpressedenough.Youmaystopnow.”
Filiplookedatusforamoment.“IhadagoodItalianfriendonce.”Thenhesaidsomethingtothesingerthatmadethemanthrowbackhisheadwithlaughter.
Estellegavemealookandpointedatourgondolier.Iturnedtofindhimtakingaselfiewithhismobile.Filipcaughtthegondolier’seyeandblewhimadeliberatekiss.Themanblushedandalmostdroppedhisphone.
IchuckledandEstelleleanedforward.“Youshouldsmilemore,Sylvie.Itsuitsyou.”
IstaredoutatthewaterandwonderedwhatitwasthatEstellesawinmyfacemostofthetime.
Thatevening,wewentoutfordinneratarestaurantthatspecializedinVenetiandelights.Wesatunderneathredumbrellasonanoutdoorterraceontopofthecanal,surroundedbywater.Themealwasmytreat,ofcourse,acustomthathadtrippedmeupwhenIfirstmovedtotheStates.FortheDutch,itwascustomaryforthebirthdaypersontotakeouteveryoneelse,whileinAmerica,thiswasreversed.
Estelle,asorganizedandpracticalasever,toldtherestaurantaboutmyseafoodallergy,thentooktheseatbesideme,andwealltoastedwithabottleofprosecco.
Ileanedmyelbowsonthetable,entwinedmyfingers,andrestedmychinonmyhands.IcockedmyheadatEstelle,solovely,independent,anduninhibited.EverythingIwantedtobe.“Youhavecomesofar.Afemalepilot.Wasithardforyou?”
Shetwirledafingeraroundtherimofherglass.“Youhavenoidea.”
Filipscoffedandrolledhiseyes.“Ahyes,itissodifficulttobetheonlywomaninthecockpitwithallthosemeninuniform.Comeup,youknowyoulovetheattention.”
Shegrinnedandtookabigsipofherdrink.“Itisnicesometimes.LikewhenweflytoAfricaandgooutatnight,theyallwatchoutforme.Butthenmycopilotwillknockonmydoorandaskforsex,andifIsayno,hetellseveryoneIamashittypilot.Menhavecomerightoutandsaidtomethatthisisnojobforawoman.”
“Well,itisnotagreatcareerifyouwantafamily.”ApassinggustofwindruffledLukas’shairashespoke.
Ourfoodcamethenandeveryonewassilentasweadmiredourmeals,inhaledthericharomas,andshookoutournapkins.
Estellehadorderedscallopswithwildfennel.Shetookabiteandchewedthoughtfullybeforesheanswered.“True.Ifyouareawomanwhowantshouse,tree,andpet,thenbeingapilotisnotforyou,unlessyoucanfindsomenicemantobeyourhousehusband.”ShewrinkledhernoseatLukas,whogrinned.Hadtheytalkedaboutthis?Stopit,Sylvie.Itwasnoneofmybusiness.
Itookabiteofmytagliatellewithartichokesandpecorinoandsighed;thesharpnessofthecheesehighlightedthesilkinessofthepasta.“Thisissogood,asdeliciousasanangelpeeingonyourtongue.”
Theothersmurmuredtheiragreement.
“ButIcanimagineitisnoteasyforyousometimes,”Ipressed.
Estelle’susuallyexpressivefacegrewstillandshedroppedherbreezyfacadeforamoment.“EveryonealwaysthinksIamaflightattendant.Theairlinesaresayinghowtheywouldlovetohiremorefemalepilotsbutthetruthis,therearenolawsregulatingitandtheywouldratherhaveaman.WhenItooktheexamformycommerciallicense,theexamineropenedthedoorandhesaidtome,‘Oh,youareawoman.Doyouknowwhatcolortheskyis?’Haha.IshowedhimhowgoodIwas.ButIcannotimagineitwasallsmoothsailingforyoueither,Sylvie.”Inherface,IcouldseethatsherememberedhowhomelyIhadbeen,howawkwardandisolated.
IemptiedmyglassandhelditoutforFiliptorefill.HowmuchshouldItellher?Yearsofhabitualsilenceseemedtoblockmylips,butthelappingofthewaves,thewarmhavencreatedbythecandlelight,thefullmoonhanginglikearipefruitoverus,andtheirsympatheticfacesmademereconsider.
“Youwantabite?”Filipasked,pushinghisplateofsquidinklinguiniatme.
Iheldupmyhandinrefusal.“Allergic,remember?Idonotwanttogotothehospitalonmybirthday.”IturnedtoEstelle,whowastiltedbackinherchair,cradlingherglassinherhands.IhadheldsomuchinsidewithJimandlookatwherethatgotme.AnewSylviewouldbeborninVenice.“Itisstilldifficult,actually.Myengagementmanageronmylastprojectsaidtome,‘Iadmireyoupeoplesomuch.Imean,Chineseimmigrants.’”
Filipshookhisheadruefully.“Notacompliment.”
“Thenextthingis,‘Youpeopleareruiningoureconomy’or‘Youpeoplesmell.’”Lukaspushedhissaltedcodfisharoundhisplate.
IrememberedtheteacherinmyNewYorkelementaryschoolwhosometimescalledmeMissChingChong.“Ithinkthatwhereveryouare,toliveintheworldasawhitepersonisacompletelydifferentexperiencethanapersonofcolor.Discriminationisinvisibletothembecauseitdoesnotaffectthem.Theyaretrulyshocked.”
“Orifyouareawomanorgay,”Filipadded,tappinghisfingeragainstthetabletop.
Thewaiterappearedthentotakeourdessertorders.Filipasked,“ShallIjustdoit?”andweallnodded.HeglancedatthemenuandfiredoffastreamofrapidItalian.
Afterthewaiterleft,Filipleanedbackandcrossedhislegs.“Youknow,therewasthisyellow-facecharacteronTVformanyyears.Itwasafteryouleft.”
“Iheardofit.”IhadreadDutchnewsallthetimeIwasgone.“Wastherenotalsoafilm?”
Lukascuppedhishandsaroundthecandleonthetable.Thelightplayedacrosshisstraightnose,hishighcheekbones.“Yes,awhitewomandressedasanAsianwhospoketerribleEnglishandsaidembarrassingthingstointernationalcelebrities.Thereisakindofnaivetéhere.Oryoucouldcallitignorance.MaybetheAsianssimplydonotprotestenough.”
Dessertcamethen,platesfilledwithcrumblyzaeticookies,ciambelleringdoughnuts,apieofamarettibiscuitsandalmonds,andfriedsweetVenetiandumplings.
Itookabiteofoneoftheciambelleandsaid,“IntheU.S.,peoplemayberacist,butatleasttheyareusuallyawarethatitiswrong.”
Estellesaid,poppingoneofthedumplingsintohermouth,“SometimesIthinkthatbecauseweDutchbelievewearesoemancipated,webecomeblindtothefaultsinourselves.”
Filiptiltedhisheadtothesideandlookedatmewithhisclearblueeyes.“Sohowgoesitwiththisengagementmanagerofyours?”
Itookadeepbreathandremindedmyself,NewSylvie.“Actually,hegotmefired.”
Lukasfrozewithhiszaeticookiehalfwaytohisplate.Estellereachedoutandtookmyhandinhers.“What?Oh,littledarling.Whathappened?”
Icouldnotmeettheireyes.“Hehadwantedtogetridofmeforawhile—afterImadeitclearIwasnotinterestedinfunandgameswithhiminbed.SowhenIwasfoolishenoughtogivehimanexcuse,hedid.”Ihunchedmyshoulders.Iwasafailureateverything.Whatmusttheythinkofmenow?
Lukastiltedupmychininhishands.Hisfacewasblurry.Iblinkedtoclearmyeyesashesaid,“Itwasnotyourfault.”
Igaveachokedlaughandbroughtashakyhandtomycheek.“Hewasnottheonlyonewhowantedmegone.Idonotreallyhavefriendsbackhome.”Mythroatfeltthick,asifIwerehavinganallergicattack.
Estellegavemeanincredulouslook.“Howcanyousaythat?Whynot?”
“Peopleusemeformyconnections,andtheoneswhodonot,stayaway.”Ihuggedmyshoulders,mychinrestingonmyneck.Isuddenlyfeltchilled.
Lukasasked,eyesfixedonme,“Whyisthat?”
Ithurttoadmiteverything,butitfeltgoodtoo.Nomorehiding.“Itismyfault.Ikeepthematadistance.Iamcoldandunfeeling.Ialwayshavetoplayfirstviolin.”
Filipsmiledandpretendedtoshudderattheideaofmeplayinganyinstrument,thenpickedupmyhandfromacrossthelittletableandpressedawarmkissontoit.“Ridiculous.Youarenotthatbossy.Remember,hightreesareattackedbystrongwinds.”
Estellewrappedherarmaroundme.“Ihavethesolution:Donotgoback,Sylvie.Stayherewithus.”
Ihuggedherandlookedacrossthetableatthetwomen:Filip,withhiseleganteyebrowsarchedinchallenge,andLukas,withhisheartinhiseyes.Stay
Later,whenwetriedtocrossPiazzaSanMarcotoreturntoourhotel,Iwasamazedtofinditunderatleastteninchesofflooding,thelightsthathungfromeveryarchwaynowreflectedintheglisteningwater.Theenormoussquarehadbecomeasea,withnodryspotsanywhere.Sometouristsworeplasticsheetingontheirfeetandlegswhileotherswadedbarefoot.Afewreclinedinthepartiallysubmergedmetalandbamboochairsthathadbeensetoutearlierfordining,theirshoesdanglingfromthearmrests.
“Whathappened?”Iasked,breathlessatthetransformation.
Estellesaid,“Acquaalta.Occursduringcertainphasesofthemoonwhentidesarestrong.”
“Youknewthiswaspossible?”saidLukas,swattingheronthearm.“Andyoudidnotwarnus?”
Estelleopenedherblackleathershoppingtoteandpulledoutapairofrubberbootsencasedinathinplasticbag.
“Incredible,”saidFilipwithabarkoflaughter.
“YoukeptbootsinyourPradabag?”Isaid,wide-eyed.Ishookmyheadindisbelief.
“Boughttheserain-shoesforanappleandaneggattheHEMA,onlyteneuros,”shesaidhappily,pullingoffherRockstudballerinasandslippingthemintotheplasticbagshehadusedfortheboots.
Lukassighed.“Inthelandoftheblind,shewithoneeyeisqueen.”
Shepulledonthekhakirainboots.Ilookeddownatmychampagnesatinmules,mybluelinenwide-legpants.Theywouldberuinedbythewater.
“Iwouldhavementionedittoyou,”Estellesaid,“butIknewyoucouldnotfitanythinginyourlittleknotclutchanyway.Iloveit,bytheway.Thatwovensilkissocute.”
Estellebegantowadeacrosstheplaza.ItookabreathandwasabouttoplungeinbehindherwhenLukasstoppedmewithatouchontheshoulder.
“Pleaseallowmetocarryyou,”hesaid,hisheadhaloedbythestreetlampbehindhim.Hestoodthere,broadandhandsome,holdingouthishandininvitation,asmallsmileplayingatthecornersofhismouth.
ButbeforeIcouldstepintohisembrace,Filipswoopedmeupfrombehind.Iclungtohisneck,laughing,ashetwirledincirclesuntiltheworldspunandIwasdizzyandgasping.Thenhestrodeacrossthedarkwaterofthesquare,hisstrongarmsholdingmetight,whileLukaswasleftbehind.
Bythenextmorning,thefloodwaterhaddrainedawayasifithadneverbeenthere.ThiswasourlastfulldayinVenice.Wetriedtopurchaseticketsforaconcertthatevening,buttheonlyshowingavailablewasperformedbymusiciansinperiodcostumes.
Filippretendedtostickhisfingerdownhisthroat.“IrefusetoseethisPunchandJudyshow.”
“‘Masqueradedinneranddancingbeforehand,’”Estellereadfromthebrochure.“‘Masksrequired.’”
“Canyousay‘touristtrap’?”Filipsaid.
“Ithinkitsoundsfun,”Isaid,peeringoverhershoulder.“Andarenotweshoppingforgiftsandsouvenirsanywaytoday?”
ToappeaseFilip,wefirstvisitedtherenownedoperahouseTeatroLaFenice.Wedecidedtofollowtheaudiotour,butatsomepointEstelleandLukasdisappearedandIfoundmyselfgrowingbored.Instead,IfollowedFiliparound.Hisfacewasaglow,hisgrumblingmannerentirelydissipated.
“Itisamazingtobehere,”hesaid.“Monteverdiwashiredaschoirmaster.LaTraviataandRigolettopremieredhere.Rossini,Bellini.”
Bythispoint,wehadclimbedthestairsandcouldhearmusiccomingfromthestagebelow.Thedoorwasajarandwepeekedthroughtofindoneofthecentraloperaboxes,half-filledwithtouristswatchingarehearsalinprogress.Wesqueezedintotwoemptyseats.Atfirst,Iwastooastoundedbythebeautyofthetheatertonoticetheopera.Theroomglowedwithelaborategoldenmoldingsandpaintingsbeneathahugechandelier.
Thewomanontheminimalisticsetwasdressedinasimpleall-blackshirt-and-pantscombinationwithstilettoheels,whichIcouldtellwereLouboutinsfromtheirsignatureredsoles.Thetwomalesingersworebathrobesandslippers.Icouldnottelliftheywereincostumebecausethiswasamodernoperaoriftheseweretheirnormalclothes.Whentheysang,themusicreverberatedinsidemysoul.
AswelefttorejoinLukasandEstelle,Isaid,“IthinkIfollownow.”
“What?”
“Music.Mysister,Amy,livesforit.Inevertrulyunderstoodbefore.”Itracedafingeralongthewallaswepassed.
WestarteddowntheelaboratestaircaseandFiliptookmyelbow.“Watchyourstep.Andwhathaveyoulearned?”
“Thatitcanexpresssomethingbeyondwords,beyondlogicandrationalthought.”
“ThefirsttimeIheardthecello,Ifeltrecognized.Likethemusicwasgreetingsomethinginsideofme,somethingnooneelsecouldsee.”Heslunghisarmaroundmyshoulderinaloosehug.
ItwasunusualforFiliptobethisopenaboutsomethingthatmatteredtohim.Ireacheduptogivehishandanaffectionatesqueeze,thengazeddownthestairstofindLukasstaringupatus.Estellewasbusycheckingherphoneathisside.Hisfacewastight.Hesentmesuchalong,painedlookthatItriedtoedgeawayfromFilip,whoonlytightenedhisgrip.
“Wherehaveyouguysbeen?”askedLukas,histonecasualdespitethestrainaroundhislips.
“Wewerelost,”answeredFilipwithasatisfiedsmile.“Butnowwehavebeenfoundagain.”
WeheadedovertothePontediRialtotodosomeshoppingatthelittlestandsandboutiquesonbothsidesoftheGrandCanal.Mylegsachedbythetimewearrived.IhadnotrealizedthatallofthecharmingarchedbridgesinVenicewerecomposedofsteps,likestaircases.Touristseverywherehuffedandpuffedtohaultheirheavyluggagetotheirhotels.
EstelleandIwanderedarminarmthroughtheelaboratecrowdedmarket,lickingourdrippinggelati.Inoticedashopwindownearuswasfilledwithmasksandcarnivalcostumes.Inside,artisanswerehardatwork.
“Arealmaskmaker,”Isaid.“Wecouldallfindsomething.”
“Itishardtocatchhareswithunwillingdogs,”Filipsaid.
Estellegrabbedhimbythearmandyankedhimintothestore.Lukasfollowedmeekly.Wewatchedanartistpaintdetailsonafull-facedharlequinbeforeEstelleandIstartedtryingoneyemasks.Sheboughtonemadeofvelourandembroideredwithswirlsofgreenandsilverflowers.Minewascoveredingoldleafandmacramélace;aplumeofblackfeathersembellishedtheforehead.ForAmy,Ipurchasedadelicatelaser-cutblackmetalfiligreedecoratedwithcrystals.MeanwhileFilipandLukaswerelaughingtheirheadsoff,tryingondifferentlooks.Finally,FilipchoseahalffaceinsilverleafandLukasafullfacered-and-blackJapanese-styleKabukimask.
InaboutiquesellingauthenticMuranoglass,IpurchasedabrightgreenwatchforMa—itslargeroundfaceedgedintinybeads—and,forGrandma,foundawhite-goldkeychainwithadanglingSommersokey.Streamsofamberblueflowedthroughtheglass.IwasatalosstofindapresentforPabutthenLukasshowedmeaSolingenpocketknifewithanengravingoftheVenetianwingedlion.Icouldnotwaittogivemyfamilytheirgifts.
Thateveningatthemasqueradedinner,awhite-facedmimedriftedfromtabletotable,resortingtospeakingwhenhefailedtosellhisrosesthroughgesturealone.Theflowerswereeverywhere,onthetables,braidedintothecanopy,theirheadysweetscentfillingtheair.Themusicfromthelivebanddriftedoverthecobblestonesasmaskedcouples,drunkonwineandanonymity,fondledeachotherindarkcorners.Atthetablenexttoours,amaninawhitediamondskullmaskdippedhisfingersinredwineandlethisfemalecompanionwearingabronzeEgyptiancatfacelickthemoff,onebyone.Awomaninaglitteringballgownandelaboratesun-goddessheaddresstwirledaroundthedancefloorwithamaninaplague-doctormask,hislongbeaklikenoseburiedinthefeathersofherhair.
WhenEstelleaskedmetodance,Ishookmyhead.Sheseemedtorememberthelasttime,giggled,andtriedtopullLukastohisfeetinstead.Hetoorefused,leavingFilip,whogavemealingeringglanceasheandEstelleleftthetable,hiseyesgleamingbehindthesilvermask,hissensualmouthquirkedinahalfsmile
Withoutaword,Lukas’shandfoundmineunderneaththetable.Hestoodandledmetotheshadowyareabehindthemusician’sstand,andpulledmeclose.AsIswayedinhisarms,thenightseemedtobeahallucination:themaskeddancers,theeerielabyrinthofstreetsthatledawayfromthesmallsquare,thesoftglowoflampscreatingourownuniverse.Icouldnotseehisfacethroughhismaskandknewminewashiddenaswell.Glimpsesoffleshservedasmyguide:aflashofhiseyes,theundersideofhisjaw,thecolumnofhisneck.AsIturnedbeneathhisarm,thefeathersonmymaskbrushedagainsthissleeve.Thenhewasleadingmeintoadarkenedalleyway—andmybackwasagainstthebrickwall,hishandscuppedaroundmyhead,hisfingerscaressingthehollowsofmyneck.Iwasbreathingquickly.Hetoweredoverme.Hismaskhidhimfrommysight.
“Sylvie,”hebreathed.Hisvoicewasfilledwithheatandsweetness.“Thisismakingmeinsane.”
Hepushedhismasktothetopofhisheadandthenhewaskissingme,hislipswarm,demanding.IentwinedmyfingersinthesilkymassofhishairasIhadwantedtoforsolong.Mymouthopenedtohis,andhehalfliftedmeofftheground,pressingmeagainsthissupplebody.Thekissfeltlikeanedgewehadtumbledoffandwewerefalling,falling.Hishands,callusedandlong-fingered,caressedmyskin,pushedthestrapsofmytopoffmyshoulders.Hiseyesweredarkwithdesire,urgency,andclaimedmyown.IstillworemymaskandfeltlikeIwasswimminginhoney;therewasnothingbutfeeling.Iwasdrowninginit,withmylastchance,myonlyone.
“Buyaroseforbeautifullady?”
Ijumped,andwesprangapart,bothgaspingforairasifwe’drunamarathon.Itwastheincompetentmime.
“TomorrowisFestivalSanMarco.Traditionismangiveswomanhelovesarose,”themimecontinued.
“No!”Lukasbarked,thenwebothburstoutlaughingasthemimehelduphishandsandleftonexaggeratedtiptoe.
“Ishenotsupposedtostaysilent?”Lukasgrowled.
“‘Talkingmime.’Thattellsyouenough.”Ismoothedmyhairwithmyfingers.Theywerestilltrembling.“Wehadbettergetback.”
Hereachedoutandhelpedmestraightenmymaskandclothing,andmurmuredintomyhair,“Tellmebeforewego—Filip?”
Ipressedafinal,gentlekisstothebackofhishand.“Onlyagame.”
Wetriedtocomposeourselvesontheway,butwhenwereachedtheothers,theirglitteringeyesandsetmouthstoldustheywerenotfooledatall.
Ididnothearanoteofthatconcert.Isattrembling,relivingeverymomentofourkisswhiletheensembleinperiodcostumeplayedVivaldi.EveryonehadremovedtheirmasksandIknewmyfacewasflushed,myeyeswild.Lukassatbesideme.Ifelttheheatemanatingfromhim.Iwasawareofeveryflexofhisarms,thetiltofhishead,thewayhisfingersdrummedonthearmrestthatseparatedus.
Aswewereleaving,mostoftheaudienceputontheirmasksagain.Iassumedtheyweregoingontootherfestivities.IwasshruggingonmywrapinthedoorwaywhenIstopped,frozenbythesightofablondmaninafull-facebautamaskwithajuttingchinandnomouth.Thewayhemoved,thesetofhisshoulders,thelineofhisneck:itwasJim.Iwassureofit.Oureyesmet.
Whatwashedoinghere?Washespyingonme?Ibegantosqueezethroughthecrowdinhisdirectionbuthehadturnedaway.Thenalaughinggroupblockedmyview,awomaninatightblackcocktaildresscackling.
“Pardonme,”Isaid,pushingmywaypastamaninared-and-whiteharlequinmask.“Pleaseletmethrough,itisveryimportant.”
ButJimwasalreadygone.
Igaspedassomeonegrabbedmywristfrombehindandspunmearound.ItwasLukas.
“Whatiswrong?”heasked.
Iletthecrowdpressmeupagainsthishardchest.Irubbedmycheekagainsthisshirtandsaid,“IthoughtIsawsomeoneIknew.”
Hisarmcreptaroundmywaist.“Yourex-husband?”
IstiffenedasIpulledaway.Mylifewassuchamess,andnowIwasjumpingatshadows.WaswhatIfeltforLukasevenreal?“Actually,wearestillmarried.Comeon,itcouldnothavebeenhim.”
Onourwaybacktothehotel,EstelleandIwalkedaheadasthemenlingeredbehind.Theirvoicesdriftedtousonthenightbreeze.Theywerearguingabouttheconcert.
“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”Estelleaskedinalowvoice.Istaredatthegroundandshookmyhead.Sheplacedagentlehandonmyshoulder.“Itisokay,Sylvie.Iamnotupset.”
Ihookedmyarmthroughhersandlinkedourfingerstogether.“Youaretoogoodtome.Idonotdeserveafriendlikeyou.”
Shestoppedandheldourhandsuplikeatrophy.“Menaredelightful,butwewillneverletonecomebetweenourfriendship.”
IopenedmymouthtorespondbutstoppedwhenIheardraisedvoicesbehindus.
“Youaresoarrogant,”Lukassaid.“Everythinghastobesoartisticwithyou.”
“Themanwasdressedinredbrocadeandawhitewig.Noself-respectingmusicianwouldwearthat.Plushisphrasingwasatrocious,puremelodrama.Butyoudonotneedtobepure,doyou?”Filip’svoicewasbiting.
TheywereapproachingusnowandIsawLukascurlhislip.“Whatdoyoumeanbythat?”
“Howmuchcommercialphotographyworkhaveyoudoneinthepastyear?Andhowmuchofyourown?”Filipsaid.Hiseyesweresmallandmeaninthelamplight,filledwithbitterness.
Lukasflexedhisshoulderandsaidinadeceptivelysoftvoice,“Someofusneedtomakealiving.”
“Whileentertainingourlovelycousins.Youshouldstaythehellawayfromher.”
Theyhadbothstoppedandnowfacedeachother,bodiestense,theirhandsclenched.
Lukas’snostrilsflared.Hisvoicewaslowandintense.“Youhavenorighttotellmewhattodo.Youcanbettertakeyourownadvice.Iknowwhatisgoingonhere.”
Filipgaveaharshlaugh.“Oh,really?Youunderstandthesituationsowell,doyou?Suchacleverboy.”
TheysprangtowardeachotherasEstelleandIrushedtowardthem.Theyweregrappling,swinging,kicking.FilippushedLukasupagainstthepoleofastreetlamp.Lukasscrambledtohisfeetandshovedhimback.Filipfellonthesidewalkandhithistemple.Bynow,EstelleandIstoodbetweenthem.
“Stop,”Estellecried,tearsinhereyes.ShehelpedFiliptohisfeet.“Youwillbothhaveregretforthistomorrow.”
Ialreadydid.WhathadIdonetoourgroupoffriends?Thetwomenstraightenedand,withoutaword,FilipturnedonhisheelandwalkedbacktowardthecenterwhileLukasstalkedoffinthedirectionofourhotel.
EstelleandIdidnotspeakafterthatandImademywaytomyhotelroom,alone
Despitemyfearsandworries,IhopedLukaswouldcometomethatnight.Washesorryforwhatwehaddone?Haditbeenanimpulseofthemoment?ShouldIgotohim?Perhapshewasnotalone.MaybeIwouldnotbewelcome.
WhenIhadfelthishandunderneaththetable—indeed,whenIletEstelleandFilipleave—Iunderstoodtherewasnochoicetobemade.IthadalwaysbeenLukas,fromthebeginning.Filipwassexyanddelightfulcompany,butitwasnothingmorethanaflirtation,awaytopassthetime,tokeepourdemonsatbay.ButnowthedoubtscreptinaboutLukasaswell.WasImerelyfeelingweakandunbalancedandLukaswashere?Ihadneverfeltsoconnectedtoanyone,notevenJim.MaybeHelenawasrightaboutme:maybeIwasonlyataker,usingpeople.PerhapsIshouldnothavegivenintomyrashdesire.NowIhadwoundedthepeopleIloved.
Ilayawakeforhours,stillhopingforaknockonmydoor.ButthislonelynightinVenice,itnevercame.
WhenIfinallyslept,Idreamedthatdeathwasnear,likeagreatwindcarryingmybelovedGrandmaawayfromme.ThenGrandmaturnedintoAmyandMaandEstelleandFilipandLukas,theirfacesshiftingfromonetotheother.Theywereinanabyss,cryingoutmyname.IwasafraidofthestormandthenIwasthestormitself,destroyingallthattouchedmyperiphery—Jim,sittinginhisoffice,menacing,violent,jealous,ameandrunk;thefacesofmyformercolleagues;professorswhohadbelievedinme.Astackofunpaidbillstoppling,thelookonAmy’sfacewhenshetoorealizedIhadfailed.
WhenIcrackedopenmydoorthenextmorning,Ifoundaperfectredrosebud,half-open,caughtrightatthemomentofblooming.Hehadnotforgottenmeafterall.Ibroughtitinsidetheroomandcradleditinmyhands.Thescentwassweet,intoxicating.
Iwasalreadypackedtocheckout,soIpressedtherosebudcarefullybetweenthepagesofanotebookandsliditintomyhandbagwithalittleprayer.Icannotaffordtonourishyou,butmayyousurviveregardless.
Iwastheonlyoneofourgroupontherestaurantterrace.Ileanedoutoverthewater,thinkingoftheangeranddisappointmentofthepreviousnight,wonderingifIhadruinedallofourfriendshipsforgood.IheardaclickandtherewereLukasandEstelle.Theystoodafewmetersawayfromme—Lukasandhisphotographyagain.Ihadbeenswallowedbythelensofhiscameratheentiretrip.
“Youlooksosad.”HeseemedtiredandhisT-shirtwaswrinkled,butmyheartstillleapedatthesightofhim.
“Morepeopledrownintheglassthaninthesea,”saidEstelle,rubbinghertemples.Sheworehersunglassesontopofherheadandthelinesaroundhereyesseemeddeeperthismorning.
“Didyoudrinklastnight?”Iasked.
“Wehadafewbeforegoingtobed,”saidLukas.
Ipinchedmylipstogether.Itriednottofeelleftoutandfailed.SohehadbeenwithEstelleinsteadofme.Hadtheytalkedaboutme?HadFilipbeentheretoo?WasthatwhyIhadbeenleftalone?SomuchforthenewSylvie.
Lukassawwhatwaswrittenonmyfaceandcametostandbesideme.Hisvoicewasgentle.“Youshouldhavejoinedus.”
Igavealittleairylaugh.“Youguysareabadinfluence.Thosewhoassociatewithdogsgetfleas.”
Iwasnotfoolinganyone.BreakfastwasquietandFilipdidnotcomeatall.Hemetusafterwehadcheckedout.Hisfacewasclosed,anangryscrapeonhischeekbonebelowhisdarksunglasses.WhenItouchedhimontheelbow,heshruggedmyhandaway.
PiazzaSanMarcowaspackedwithpeoplewavingtheVenetianflagincelebrationofLiberationDayandFestadiSanMarco.Menandwomenworkedthecrowdsellingsinglerosestocouplesandlovers.EstelleandIchatteredaboutmeaninglessthings.Theguysdidnotexchangeasingleword.
Isatinthewatertaxi,speedingtowardMarcoPoloAirport,andbreathedinthesaltyairasthesunshonerelentlesslyupontheturbulentwaves.Venicewashauntinglybeautiful.Iwouldneverforgettheimagesofthelimpidcanalsandsparklingsunshineduringtheday,thelabyrinthinealleysatnight,redolentofpassionandsecrecy,flickersofbrightgoldagainstabsoluteblack.Smalldetailsreturnedtome:theicethatcameinaseparatelittlebowlwhenyouorderedasoftdrink,signsforbiddinggondolasfromcertainwaterways,thewayLukas’slipshadfeltagainstmine.IwatchedasthemagicofVenicefadedbehindus,andwonderedwhenIwouldcomebackandifIwouldreturnwithhim.
Chapter22
Amy
Saturday,May14
Therestoftheweekcrawlsby,thespringsunlightslowlyturningintowindandrain,untilitisfinallySaturdayandEpsiloncandoafullsearch.IthasbeentwoweekssinceanyonehasseenorheardfromSylvieandIamaquiveringwreck,wornthinbydespair.Everymorning,IwakecertainthatSylvie’ssafeandIimaginedthewholething.MaandPasoundmorehelplesseachtimeIspeaktothem.IwanttogohometoNewYorkbutIwon’tleavewithoutSylvie.Ihaveafaintsparkofhopethatshe’srunoff.Butdeepinside,Iknowsomethinghashappenedtoher.Iambeginningtorealizewemightneverfindoutthetruth.It’sliketheSylvieIknewhasslowlyspiraledawayfromus,outofsightandhearingandmemory—thecenterofourlittledomesticworldunravelingwiththevacuumofherabsence.
IhardlyseeLukas,Helena,andWillem,butwhenIdo,thestrainofSylvie’sfaterevealsitselfintheslow,carefulwaywemaintainourdistancefromeachother.Noonewantstodigtoodeep,revealtoomuch.Thepolicehavenonews.IfoundoutfromHelenathatSylviehadbeentakingcellolessonsintheBrouwersgrachtinAmsterdam,theareawhereI’dseenthehouseboats.ShegavemethelikeliestrouteSylviewouldhavedrivenwithherrentalcar.
FilipfinallyreturnedmymanytextswithasuggestionthatwegettogetherbutnowIamtoodistressedtobedistractedbyacrush.Karintoldmethey’vealreadygoneoverthemainareaswiththeirdogsandwillstarttheirintensivesearchthisweekend.
IhadphonedKarinyesterdaytosharetheinformationaboutthemusiclessons,andaskedifIcouldaccompanyherteamtoday.
Shehesitated.“Wedonotusuallyallowfamilymembers.”
Twoweeksago,Iwouldhaveapologizedandhungupthephone.Buteverythingwasdifferentnow.“Whyisthat?”
“Becauseifwesucceedinoursearch,itcanbe…upsetting.”
Thepitofmystomachdroppedaway.Itriedtospeakbuthaddifficultyswallowing.I’dforcedmyselftofacethispossibilityyetcouldbarelyutterthewords.“Youmeanifyoufindabody.”
“Yes.”Hervoicewasquietandcompassionate.
“IknowthatSylviemightbedead.”Wasthatmyvoice?Itshooksobadly,Iwonderedifshecouldunderstandme—justsayingitmademewanttoburstintotears—butwestilldidn’tknowanythingyet.Iwouldkeepmyhopealiveuntiltheveryend.Itriedtostillmytremblingbywrappingmyfreearmaroundmyself.“Iunderstandthesituation.It’sjustthatImightthinkofsomethingduringthesearchthatcouldhelp.I’dliketobethere.Noneofuscanpredicthowwe’llreactinabadsituation,butIpromiseI’lldomybestnottobecomehysterical.Please.IneedtodoeverythingIcantohelpyoufindmysister.”
Afteramoment,shesaid,“Allright.Oneofourdiversiscomingalongtoo,whichisunusualatthisstage.Theydonotusuallyjoinuntilthedogshavefoundsomething.Sinceheiswillingtohelp,Icangiveanothermemberofmycrewthedayoff.”
Ihadasuspicion.“AnyoneIknow?”Wouldhecome?
“HisnameisFilip.Ibelieveheisafriendofyours.”MyfearforSylviehadburnedawaymydesire,butIwasstillgladhecaredenoughtocome.I’datleasthavesomeoneItrusttherewithme.
NowIknowwhyDutchpainterswereobsessedwiththesky.Stretchedabovetheflatlandscape,themorningboilsandeddies,theroilingcloudsbattlingasinglesharppatchofobstinatesunlight.Filip’seyesarebrightagainstthegraywaterashestretchesouthisarmtohelpmeontotheirfloatingrigidboat.Hishandiswarmandstrong.I’mgladtohavehimwithus.KarinholdsontotheleashesofthedogsAjaxandFeyenoord,whoareeagerlyperchedonthehull.Ifeelthecraftswayasitadjuststomyweightandthenwepushofffromthepier.IfeelIamleavingallIhaveknownbehind.
BothFilipandKarinwearhigh-visibilityone-piecewaterproofcoveralls,thoughIcatchaglimpseofablackdivingsuitbeneathFilip’s.Hesettlesdownbehindthewheel,whereasonarscreenisbleeping,asItakeaseatinthemiddleoftheboat.IpullonthelifevestKarinhandstome.They’vepickedmeupclosetothecaféIvisitedwithLukasandEstellewhatseemsaneternityago,andwe’reheadingtowardAmsterdamalongsidetheroadsSylviewouldhavetakentohermusiclessons.AjaxandFeyenoordwagtheirtails,antsyandimpatient,atthefrontoftheboat.
Ihuddleinmyseat,chewingmynailstothequick.“Howcanthedogssmellanythinginthis?Thepoliceseemedtothinkthatthere’dbenoscenttrailwithacar.Isthatwhyyouusetwodogs?”
Karinisbusycheckingsomepieceofequipmentagainsthermap,soFilipanswersme.“Ajaxistheleaddog.Thelittleoneisintraining.Wearenotactuallytryingtotrackherscent.Wearecheckingtoseeifshehasgoneintothewater.”
Foramoment,I’mconfused.Ifshewereinthewater,wouldn’tweseetheboat?ThenIunderstandandfeellikethere’sathickwoolenblanketsmotheringme.“Youmeanifshe’sdrowned.”Thisisadream,anightmare.Thiscan’tbetrue.Mybeautifulsister,whereareyou?Thisstrangecountry,thislandscapeofwaterintheair,waterinthesky,andwaterbeneathourfeet.Wesailpastonce-vibrantflowerfieldsnowfading,theirsaggingbloomspulledbacktowardtheearth.
Henodsandthere’sgenuinegriefinhiseyes.Heseemsoldertoday,thelinesonhisfaceetchinghisdistressataccompanyingmeonsuchadarkday.Hereachesouttogivemeaquickpatonthearm.“Itdoesnotmeanshehasdoneso.Justtoruleitout.Humanremainsemitspecificgasesforalongtimethatrisetothesurface.Thedogsaretrainedtozeroinonthatscent.Iftheyfindsomething,theywilljumpin,buttherecanoftenbefalsealarms,whichiswhywehaveallthisotherequipmentonboard.”
Karinfinishesfiddlingwithhergearandjoinsourconversation.“Thenwesearchwithsonarandifthereisenoughreasontobelieveitwouldbeworthwhile,thedivingteamiscalledin,thoughweareluckytohaveourowndiverheretoday.”
Iscratchatasmallcutonmyhanduntiladropletofbloodoozesontomyskin.MyheartbeatssoquicklyIcanhardlybreathe.HowcanwebehavingthisdiscussionaboutSylvie?“Ithought—Ithoughtbodiesfloatedtothesurface.”
Karinanswers,“Itdependsonthetimeofyear.Yes,ifithasbeenwarm,thechancesofabodybeingwashedashorearegreater,orthatafishermanwouldfindit.Butifitisacoldspring,likeithasbeenthisyear,abodycouldneverbefound.Itcanbeunderwater,eatenbyfishes,stuckinaholeoracave.”
Iburymyheadinmyhands.Thisisalltoomuch.Irefusetobelievethiscouldbetrue.Please,please,please,letthisnothavehappenedtomySylvie.IfeelacomfortingarmaroundmyshouldersandrealizeFilip’snowsittingbesideme.
Iclingtohim,tryingnottocry,untilIhearhimwhisperinmyear,“Iknowthisisdifficult.ButKarinhasthatlookonherface.Youneedtopullittogetherorshewillremoveyoufromtheboat.”
Thiswakesmeup.Itakedeepbreathsandwipemyface.Isitupandindeed,Karinisassessingmewithhersharpeyes.“I’mallright.Itjustgottomeforamoment.”Itrytothinkofsomethingtosaytodistracther.Igesturetotheexpansearoundusasarelentlessdrizzlebeginstofallfromthesky,soakingus.“Theareaishuge.Howcanyoueversearchitall?”
Filippullsuphishoodandsays,“Wetrytoproceedverylogically.Ifitwassuicide—”
“Sylviewouldneverkillherself,”Iinterrupt.Iknowmysister.Shewouldnevergiveup.Sotalented,sodazzling.Never.
“Okay,buttoexploreallthepossibilitiesforamoment.Mostpeoplechooseaspotwheretheylikedtogo.Aplacetheywentfishing,forexample,orclosetotheirfamilyhome,oraspottheymettheirlover.Onemandrownedhimselfnearafishstandwherehealwayswentwithhisson.”
Isayinasmallvoice,“Iwashopingyouweretryingtocatchherscentfromthetreesorsomething,thatshewouldbelostintheforest.”Iwassonaive.
Karincrossesovertokneelbeforeme.Herweatheredfaceiskind.Shetakesbothmyhandsinhers.“Wewentthroughtheareaonlandyesterdayandcameupempty.Thatiswhywearesearchingthewatertoday.Ifwedonotfindanything,wewilllookthereagain.Mostofthetime,Amy,ifwesucceed,thenpeoplecanmoveon.Sometimesthatisallwecanoffer.”
Hourslater,theweakenedsunlightfading,therainfinallystops.There’ssomuchwaterintheairIcantastethehumidityinthewindthatwhipsthroughmyclothing,huntingforgaps.Wehavestoppedtwiceforrestroombreaks,whereFilip,tomysurprise,pulledoutapackageofcigarettestosmoke.Theyofferedtosharetheirthermosesofteaandcoffeewithme,plusalunchofsalamisandwichesonlightbrownbread.Icouldnoteatabite.Themysteriousexpanseofwatersurroundsus,swellingandebbing,andacolddampnesscrawlsunderneathmyclothingandburrowsitselfnexttomyheart.
Thisisthethirdtimewe’vepassedoverthesameterritory.Karinexplainedthatthebreezecouldbeblowingthewrongwayorthepreciseareaobstructedbyapassingvessel.Thedogintraining,Feyenoord,hasgrownagitatedandjumpedintothewatertwicenow.MyheartalmoststoppedeachtimeuntilKarinindicatedafalsealarm.
Shesays,“Evenifwefindsomething,mostofthetime,itwillbeamistake.Sodonotgetalarmedifthedogsact.Iftherehasbeenalotofhumancontactinsideavehicle,thedogscouldbereactingtothat.Wedohopetofindourvictimsalive.Thedogsaretrainedtosearchforlifeaswellascorpses,soifthereisasunkenautomobilethathashadmanypassengers,theymightjump.AndtherearealargenumberofcarshiddeninDutchwaters.Peopledrivetheminbyaccidentortocoverupcrimeslikeinsurancefraudorcarjacking.”
“Ortohideabody.”Filipstaresintothedistance,hisposturerigidandtense.
I’mwonderingifI’vewastedeveryone’stimeandweareonthewrongtrackaltogetherwhenweturnontotheAmsterdam-RhineCanal.Thewaterfeelssurprisinglydeepdespitethefactwearenotfarfromshore.Thebankislinedwithtalltrees,swayinginthewind.Ispotagrassyareabehindasmallgroupofducksbobbingonthewaves.
Ipressmylipstogetherandcovermymouthwithmyhand.Iwillnotburstintotears.Karinwillmakemeleave.Still,myvoiceisbrokenasIsay,“Sylvielovesplaceslikethat.She’salwayshadathingforpicnics.”
KarinsaystoFilip,“Canyoutakeusclosertothatspot?”
Hisfacegrim,hesteersustowardtheshore.Nothinghappens.Wedrawcloserandcloserandthen,forthefirsttime,Ajaxstartstowaghistailandbark.Feyenoordfollowshislead.Iamholdingmybreath.Bothdogsjumpintothewateratthesametime.Theyswimaheadofus,surprisinglyquick,andthenstartturningincircles,barkingmaddeninglytheentiretime.
Mychestseizes.Despiteeverything,Ipraythisisamistake.IwishIcouldturnbacktheclocktoafewminutesago.IrealizeIpreferignorance.IfSylvieistrulygone,Idon’twanttoknowbecausethegriefwilltearmyheartintopieces.IwishIworemyglassessoIcouldtakethemoffforarespitefromallthisclearair,thesharpnessofthewavesinthewater,theicyfearofwhatwemightfind.ButIcannot.ImustbeasbraveasSylvie.Iwillnotlookaway.
Karinischeckingthemachineshetoldmewasthe360-degreesonar.“IcanseefromtheHumminbirdthatthereissomethingdownthere—probablyacar.”Shenarrowshereyesatthebank.“Ifsomeonehaddrivenofftheroadathighspeed,aimingbetweenthetreesthere,theywouldlandrightabouthere.”
Atmystrickenface,shesays,“Thereisnoindicationthatthishasanythingtodowithyoursister.”Shewhistlesandthedogsclamberbackontotheboat,sprayingwatereverywhere.
Filip’sfaceishardandunrelenting.“Exceptthatthiswasdescribedasaplacesheoftenpassedonherroute.Iwanttogoin.”
Karinshakesherhead.“Alone?Weshouldwaituntilatleastoneotherdivergetshere.”
Iamchewingsohardonmylips,Itasteblood.MyhandsareclammyandIcan’tseemtostopblinking.Myheartisabouttoexplodeoutofmybody.Ican’tsitherewaitingformorepeopletocome,notknowing.“Please.Pleaselethimgo.Justforaquicklook.”
Karinhesitates,andsays,“Allright,butbecareful.Ifthereareanydifficultiesatall,comebackup.”
Filipisalreadystrippingoffhiswaterproofcoveralls.Hepullsontherestofhisdivinggear,hisgoggles.Hiseyesmeetmineforamomentbeforehesplashesintothewater.
Hedoesn’tcomeupandhedoesn’tcomeup.IcanhearKarincallingpeopleandspeakinginDutch.Ipraytothegods.Please,letthisnotbeSylvie.It’snotpossible.Maybethishasnothingatalltodowithmysister.It’ssomedruglordor,likeKarinsaid,insurancefraud.IdeeplyregreteverhavingcalledEpsilon.Ishouldhaveleftitalone,likeLukaswanted.Forthefirsttime,Iunderstandhisdenial.Iwouldnotbesittingonthisboatthen,wonderingifmysister…Icannotevenfinishthethought.
Suddenly,Filipbreaksthesurfacebesideme.Ijump.Hehangsontothesideoftheboatandpullsuphisgoggles.Hisdrippingfaceisbleak.Hegasps,“Ican’tseemuchdowntherebutoneofthewindowsisopenandIcouldfeelsomethingthroughit.There’sabody.”
Ohgods.No.Igasp.“W-wasit—”
“Icannottellanythingyet.Givemethescrewdriverandcrowbar.”Karinrummagesinthetoolkit,handsthemtoFilip,andhedisappearsagain.
Iamstillgaping,tryingtoprocesswhathesaid:abody.Butitcan’tbeSylvie.We’reclosetoAmsterdam,whichmustbefilledwithcriminals.Anythingispossible.Iamgulpingdownbreathstostopfromscreaming.“Why-whydidhetakethetools?”
“Heisgoingtoremovethelicenseplate.”
NowIunderstandwhyshewantedthatinformationaboutSylvie’srentalcar.Pleaseletitbethewrongcar,letitbesomeoneelseinthecar.Howcouldtherebeabodyhere,underneaththiscold,mercilesssurface?I’veneverevenseenadeadpersonbefore.LetSylviehaverunawaywiththegold,lethernowbestartinganewlifesomewhere.
Ijumpateverymovementinthewater—butFilipdoesn’treappear.Itseemstotakemuchlongerthistime.Isheallright?Whatishedoingdownthere?Karindropsabuoyinthewatertomarkthespot.
Afterwhatfeelslikeanage,Filip’sdarkheadreappears,withawarpedyellowlicenseplateinhishand,someofthepaintflakedoff.Karintakesitfromhimandhelpshimclimbintotheboat.Iamabsolutelystillasshecheckshernotes.Ican’tbreathe.
Finally,shelooksupatme.“Itmatches.”
Itisalmostdarknow.Thesunissettingandthewaterisliketheinnerrecessesofadarkmouth,atomb,itsdepthsasimplacableaseternity.Iamnumbfromstandingonthebankforsolong,watchingthedivers,firemen,andpoliceatwork.DaniqueandPimhavearrived.They’venotsaidmuchtome.They’retoobusywiththerecoveryproject.Theemergencyrespondershavesetupanenormouscraneandaretryingtopullthecarfromthecanal.Filiphasbeeninthewaterorontheboatmostofthetime.Thediverswentdownearlierwithanunderwatercamerabuttherewastoolittlelightandthewaterwastoomurky.
LukascomesroaringuponhisscooterwithHelenaandWillem’scarrightbehindhim.Herunstome,toomuchwhiteinhiseyes,wildanddesperate.
Iamrelievedtoseeafamilymember,buthecries,“Whathaveyoudone?”
Stunned,Iamspeechless.
He’salmostfoamingatthemouth,hisnostrilsflared.“Whydidyouhavetostireverythingup?Whycouldyounotjustleaveitalone?”
Iturnaway.Iunderstandtheangerandaccusationinhisvoice.ItisbecauseIhavestrippedawaythecomfortofignoranceforusall.Helenacomesandwordlesslylinksherarmthroughmine.Ihugittome;herwarmthisallIhavenow.Ihaven’tcalledMaandPa.Iwon’tuntilweknowwhat’sbelowthesurface.Ihavenoenergyforanythingbuttheemergenceofthatvehicle.Ihavenothoughtsanymore.Ican’tthink.Iwon’t.
Finally,slowly,thesmallbluecarispulledupward.Afloodofwatercascadesfromit.Thenthecranerotatesandsetsitupontheground.Rescueworkersrushtothedoorsaswaterstreamsontothegrassundertheharshandunyieldingartificiallightstheyhavesetupallaroundthearea.IletgoofHelenaandpushmywaytothefront,whereLukasalreadystands,hischestheaving.Waterstillstreamsfromthewindowsandindeed,Icatchaglimpseofsomethingthatcouldbehumanlimbsinthefrontseat.Ashroudofhairswirlslikeacurtainaroundtheface,blockingitfromview.Ican’tbreathe.Iamgaspinglikeafishonland—noairentersmylungsnomatterhowhardItry.IcatchaglimpseofLukasoutofthecornerofmyeye,hisfaceaskulloffear.This,Ithought,thisiswhathorroris.
Theyopenthedoors.Watergushesout.Theyarepullingouttheperson.Mybrainrejectsthis;howcanahumanbeunderwaterforsolong?Theslenderarm,it’sawoman.Logically,Iknowshe’sdeadbutIwantthemtotrytoresuscitateheranyway.Tangledblackhair.Thewoman—Ican’tcallitabody—isAsian,butsheisn’tSylvie.Sylvie’staller;herhairisshorter,featuressharperandmorebeautiful,notbloatedandobscenelikethese.Ohgods,isapartofherfacemissing?Itcan’tbeSylvie.Itisn’ther.Butitis.
Part5
Chapter23
Ma
Saturday,May14
IcouldnotunderstandAmyatfirst.Shewasheavingwithgrief.IsuckedinabreathofcoldairandthenIwastheonewhowashowling.InonefranticthrustIpushedalltheplatesfromourtable,thericeandfishcrashingontothefloor,shardsofceramicjaggedandraw.Thisshouldnothavebeenthunderfromaclearsky,Ishouldhaveexpectedit,andyetIwascompletelyunprepared.
Foralongtime,Ihadnowords,onlypain.Pagrippedmyhand,thetwoofusforonceunitedinourgrief.Ashisfacedissolvedintotears,Isawsomethingelseinhiseyes,though—wariness,apartofhimselfhestillheldbackfromme.Howlonghaditbeenthere?Toolong.Heretreatedintothebedroomandhisquietsobsaddedtomyburden.Thissufferinghasmadeuscoughupbloodandyetwecannotshareourpain.
Whycouldthegodsnothavetakenmeinstead?Ideservedit.Heaven’snetiswideandnonecanescapeitsmesh.Thiswasmyfault.Thiscouldnotbetrue.IhadseenSylviesorecently.Itwasthegreatesttortureforaparenttooutliveachild.IfonlyIweredeadinstead—stupid,recklesswoman.Ourfamilywaslikegrassthathadbeenpulledupbytheroots:eradicated,mymotheranddaughterdead.
Iburnedincensebythealtar.Mother,KuanYin,pleaseembracethespiritofmydaughterasIcouldnot.MySnowJasmine,forgivemeforplacingyouinamountainofbladesandaseaoffire.Youwerebutakitewithitsstringcut,blownawaywithoutrecall.
Iwasgoingbackthere.ByMondayevening,wewouldbeinHollandtoburymydaughterinthatsamedarklandscapewheremymotherhaddied.AndIwouldseehimagain.
Chapter24
Amy
Saturday,May14
Iretchandstaggertothesideofthecrowd.Ithrowupeverythinginsideofme.Agentlehandsmoothsmyhairback.Helena.Shegathersmeintoherarms.Betweenmyhoarsesobs,Ihearhermurmuroverandover,“Iamsosorry,”butinsteadofsayingmyname,shesays,“Sylvie.”
Irecoverenoughtowipemyfacewithatissue,andseethatWillemhasonearmaroundLukas,whoclutcheshisstomachlikeamanwho’sbeenkickedrepeatedlyandcanbearnomore.Tearsstreamdownhischeeks.Willemiswhimperingandbitinghisotherfistedhand,asiftorestrainhimselffromlashingout,asiftoeasesomeofhispain.WhenLukasstraightens,hisskinissplotchy,bunchedaroundhisred,swolleneyes,hisfaceravagedbygrief.
Ontheperipheryofmyvision,Ispotadarkfigureclimbingoutofaboatthathasjustdocked.Icallout,“Filip!”
IreleaseHelenaandstumble,heavy-footed,towardhim.Icanbarelywalk.Hewearsasilverthermalblanketoverhisdivingsuitand,intheshadowsofthetrees,lookshaggardandworn.
Myteethchatteruncontrollably.Ihugmyself.“Th-thankyouforleadingmetoEpsilon.”
Hegathersmeintohisembrace.“Iamsosorry.”
Heiscoldandsoakingwet,butIamcomfortedbyhiscloseness.“I-Iamgladweknowwhathappened.Andthatsheisoutofthewater.”
Behindme,Ihearalowsnarl,likethatofanenragedanimal.Iwhiparound.It’sLukas.There’samurderousgleaminhiseyes.“Whatthehellareyoudoinghere?Andwithher?”
Confused,IdetachfromFilipandswivelmyheadbackandforthbetweenthetwoofthem.Filiphasbothhandsraisedandslowlybacksaway.“Youknoweachother?”
Lukasstalksforward,throatrigid,everymuscleinhisbodytenseandreadytofight.HekeepshiseyesfixedonFilipandspitsout,“HewasthecelloteacherofSylvie!Andoneofmyoldestfriendstoo,orsoIthought.Buthetalksoutoftwodifferentmouthslikethevicioussnakeheis.”
ThehandsomecelloteacherHelenathoughtSylviehadliked.Lukas’sfriend.MyFilip.IopenmymouthafewtimesbeforeIcanformwords.MyentirehistorywithFilipripsapart,explodingintotheair,andwhentheremnantsland,adivergentandbarrenlandscapetakesshape.Ourstoryisnotaromancethen,butatragedy.“W-what?B-butyounevertoldme.”
“Icanexplain—”
LukasshovesFilipsohardhefallsafewstepsback.AveininLukas’stempleprotrudes.Hisfaceistwistedwithfury.HeloomsoverFilipwithfistsclenched.“Bothsisters?YouwentafterAmytoo?”
Filipflinches.Hespreadshishandswideinagestureofappeal,beggingLukaswithhiseyes.“No,youdonotunderstand.”
Suddenly,LukaslauncheshimselfatFilip.He’sflailingawayathim,hittinghiminthestomach,theribs,hisface,tryingtokneehim,andthenWillemandthepolicearethere,pullingthemapart.Filipisbleedingfromthenoseandmouthfromthebrutalblows.He’snotmadeamovetodefendhimselfandstaresatLukaswithalookthatsayshe’ssorrierthanhecouldeverconvey.Lukastearshimselfawayfromthemenholdinghimandfallssuddenly,twistinghisankle.Hestandsquickly,gaspingforair,thenhalfstumbles,halfrunstohisscooterandridesaway.Iseehimwipethetearsfromhisfacewithhissleeve.Withoutanotherwordtome,Filiphobblesawayaswell.
Ican’tbelievetheyarebothgone.Ican’tbelieveanythingthathasjusthappened.MyteetharechatteringandIamtrembling.Butslowly,theshakinesscatchesfireinsidemeandIstarttosmolder.Iamshudderingsohard,Iamnearlyconvulsing.Iamfilledwithrage.Ihatethiscountryandeverypersoninit.ThisplacetookmybelovedsisterfrommeandIwillknowwhy.
Couscousprowlsaroundmybed.Ipickherupandcryonheruntilherfuriswetandspiky.Thensheliesbesidemeandpurrsinherfunny,statickywayuntilIfallintoanexhaustedsleep.
Inthemorning,theoceanofgriefthathasengulfedmebeginstorecede.Nottheweightofit—IfearIamonlyfeelingthefirstripplesofwhatwillbecomeatsunami—butthedenseopaquenessthatblindedmetoallelse.Iholdbackthetideofemotionthroughsheerwillpower.Ineedtofunction.I’vebeguntothinkagain,andImust,forSylvie.Ifthishappenedtome,shewouldmoveheavenandearthtouncoverthetruth.IrealizeIhavealwaystakenrefugeintheliethatSylviewouldtakecareofeverything,thatIcoulddonothingonmyown.PerhapsIammorelikeSylviethanIeverrealized.
ItisalongholidayweekendherecalledPinksteren.IthassomethingtodowithWhiteSundayandWhiteMonday,andeverythingisclosed.Lukashasdisappeared.I’vehardlyseenWillemorHelenaeither,excepttodiscusswhenMaandPawouldarriveforthefuneral.HowMaandPahadcriedlastnightwhenIphonedwiththeterriblenews.WillemandHelenawenttoAntwerptovisitOmaandOpaforPinksteren.TheyinvitedmealongbutIbeggedoff.HelenahasbeenextremelykindeversincewefoundSylvie,andaskedifIwassureI’dbeallrightbeforetheydroveoff.
ItakeadeepbreathandringKarin.Icannotkeeprunninganylonger.Whensheanswers,Ihearwhatsoundslikeafamilygatheringinthebackground.
“Iwanttothankyouforwhatyoudid.”Tomyshame,Ibegintosobuncontrollably.
ShewaitsuntilIcanbreatheagain,andsays,“Iamsorryitwasnotbetternews.”
Iwipemyeyesandnoseonmysleeve.“I’vebeenafraidtoask,buthowmuchdoweoweyou?”Ibracemyself.Howwillwepayforwhatmustbeanastronomicalbill—thedogs,theboat,thefancyequipment,thedivers,thetimespentsearching—andnowwithSylviegone?Mybills,herbills,Ican’teventhink.
“No,therehasbeenamisunderstanding.Youoweusnothing.”
Imusthaveheardherincorrectly.“What?”
“Weareavolunteerorganization.Wecannotaskmoneyforwhatwedo.Wepayforitwithdonations,volunteers,andquiteabitofourownmoney.ItisagoodthingthatwhenIamnotsearchingforbodies,Iamadoctor.Andmywifeisaveterinarian,soshetrainsthedogs.”
“Oh,Karin.”ThatisallIcansay.Igiveahalfsob,sorelievedthatatleastoneburdencanbelaidaside.
“Nopricemaybesetonlifeordeath,Amy.”
AtthatmomentIunderstandwhySylvielovedtheNetherlandssomuch.ThenIcallthepolice.
IaskforDanique.Assoonassheanswers,Isay,“Whenwilltheautopsyreportbeavailable?”Ifeeladesperatedesiretoknoweverydetail.Whatcouldhavehappened?
Hervoiceisdistantandtinnyonthephone.“Actually,itisnotlikelythatwewillconductone.”
“What?Mysisterhasbeenfounddeadinsidehercarandyouwon’tinvestigatefurther?”MyvoicerisesandIpracticallyshriekintothephone.Ican’tbelievethepolicedidn’tfindherbodyandnowtheystilldonothing.MyheartbeatpoundssoloudlyinmyearsIhavetostraintohearthroughtherushoffurythatwashesoverme.
“Familymembersalwaysbelievethecaseinvolvesmurder,butthevastmajorityofthetime,themostlikelycauseissuicide.Wedonotatthismomenthaveanyreasontosuspectcriminalactivity.”
Oh,sowe’rethestupid,misguidedfamilymembers.Majorityofthetime!Noreasontosuspect!Tryingtostaycalm,ItellheraboutFilip,howsuspiciouslyhe’sacted,howthere’samissingfortuneinjewelry.
Shesays,“Well,mendostrangethingssometimeswhentheymeetanattractivewoman.Sadly,thereisnoproofthejewelryeverexisted.Andifhewasinvolvedinamurder,whywouldheleadyoutothebody?”
“Idon’tknow.That’syourjob,”Igrindoutthroughclenchedteeth.“Maybehetamperedwiththeevidenceunderwater.Hewasthefirstonetoreachthecarandhewasalone.Hemisledmeforourentirerelationshipandpretendedhedidn’tknoweitheroneofus.Don’tyouthinkthat’sabitsuspicious?”Iamgrowlingintothephone.Ibitebackthewords:Youimbecile.Youuncaringbitch.
“Itwouldbeiftherewasapossiblemotive.Lyinginapersonalrelationshipisnotveryhonestbutitisalsonotacrime.Perhapshethoughtyouwouldnotlikehimifyouknewhewasacquaintedwithyoursister.Nowifthereisnotanythingelse…”
She’sgoingtohanguponme.Gettingangrywon’tgetmeanautopsy.Isomehowneedtoconvincethisidiotofapoliceagent.Ihavetobesmart,likeSylvie.“Look,Sylviewasayoung,healthy,successfulwoman.Ourfamilyneedstoknowifshewasdruggedorundertheinfluenceofalcohol.Herhusbandwashere.Theywerehavingtrouble.Maybetheyhadafight…werethereanybruisesonherbody?Iamnotaccusinganyoneofanythingbuttherearestillsomanyquestions.Evenifshediedofaheartattackorstrokeandlostcontrolofthecar,forexample,Ineedtoknowthatformyownhealthreasons.”Iholdmybreath,waitingforheranswer.Please,please,please.Ican’tbeleftneverknowingwhathappenedtoSylvie.
Thesilenceoverthephoneislongandheavy.Thenshesays,notunkindly,“Iamverysorry.Thecaseisclosed.Amy,letmegiveyousomeadvice.Itisover.Stopaskingquestions,stoppushing.Findyourpeace.Justgohomeandliveagain.Noteverythinginlifehasanswers.”
Ihangupandwanttoscream.That’seasyforhertosay.Losethepersonyoulovemostintheworldandseehowacceptingandpeacefulyouarethen.IamnolongertheAmywhowouldhavecrawledbacktoMaandPaandpulledthecoversoverherhead.Nomore.
Itrytothinkeverythingthrough.IsitpossibleSylviekilledherself—butthenwhy?TheproblemswithJimandherjobhadstartedbeforesheleftfortheNetherlands.Somethingmusthavetippedherovertheedge.Ifshedidn’tdoit,didsomeonedrugherandplaceherinthecar?DidithavesomethingtodowithGrandma’sjewelry?NomatterwhattheDutchpolicesayaboutthegold,myChineseinstinctstellmeitexisted—andwhataboutJim?HehadcometotheNetherlandsandLukassaidthatJimhadaskedSylvienottodestroyhislife.JimhadthreatenedSylvie.ButthatwasprobablybecauseJimdidn’twantSylvietoleavehim;hemusthavefeltdesperateatthethought.JimhasenoughmoneyofhisownandIcan’tthinkofanotherreasonhewouldwantSylviegone.Helena?Outofrage,ifSylviehadindeedtakenGrandma’sgold?Willem?He’ssostrangeandcreepy.CouldhehavedonesomethingtoSylvieasachildandshe’dthreatenedtocomeforward?
Thentherewerethetwomen,LukasandFilip.PerhapsLukaswantedthegoldforhimself?He’ssaidhowmuchhewantstoownhisownplace,andtherecouldhavebeensomekindoftussleoranaccident.Buthisgriefhasbeensodesperate,sovicious.Ican’tbelieveanyoneisthatgoodofanactor.Betweenthetwoofthem,Filipistheobvioussuspect.Istillcan’tbelievehe’dknownSylvieandmanipulatedameetingwithme.HemusthavejumpedonmybicycleknowingfullwellwhoIwas.Thefleshonmyforearmsbreaksoutingoosebumps.I’dthoughthewascute,open,andvulnerable.I’dthoughthelikedme.Fortunately,IamsoexhaustedfrommygriefandragethatIhavelittleemotionalspaceleftforembarrassment.DidhehavearelationshipwithSylvie?Didheneedthemoney?Orwastheresomesortoflovetriangleandthingsgotoutofhand?
I’vebeencallingandleavingmessagesforFilip.IthinkovereverythingI’velearnedsincecomingtotheNetherlands.WhathadHelenasaidaboutatriptoVenice?WhodidSylviegowith?IcouldaskHelenaandWillemaboutit,butSylviemighthaveliedtothem.IamrealizingthatmysisterhidsomuchmoreofherselfthanIeverknew.Sylvie,Ipray,IamreadytosacrificemyimaginedidealofyouifonlyIcanfindoutwhoyoureallywere.Pleasehelpme.
Thentheanswercomestome.Estelle.
TelephoneCall
Sunday,May15
ESTELLE:Iamsoverysorry.Myparentssawitonthetelevision.IseeyourangmeafewhoursagobutIwasflying.WejustlandedinKualaLumpur.Iaminshock.Icouldbarelyconcentrateontheflight.AMY:Thanks.ESTELLE:Sylviewastheloveliest,mostloyalperson.Manypeopleonlysawherfromtheoutside.Icannotbelieveit.[Voicebreaks]AndIwaswithhersorecently.AMY:Yes,that’swhatIwantedtoaskyouabout.DidyouknowaboutthattripshetooktoVenice?ESTELLE:Ofcourse.Iwasthere.Iarrangedthetickets.AMY:Really?Whoelsewentwithyou?ESTELLE:LukasandFilip.Wehadawonderfultime.Well,exceptforaterriblefighttheguyshad.AMY:Whatdidtheyfightabout?ESTELLE:Nothing.Itwasstupid.Somethingaboutashowwehadjustseen—cameoutofnowhere.AMY:Actually,Filipintroducedhimselftomewithouttellingmeheknewanyofyou.Wesaweachotherafewtimes.ESTELLE:What?AMY:Tobehonest,it’skindofcreepy.Doyouknowwhyhewouldhavedonethat?ESTELLE:Amy,Idonothaveanyidea.ButFilipisagoodman.Youshouldaskhim.AMY:I’mtrying,butnoone’stalkingtome.Lukashasdisappeared;Filip’snotpickingup.ESTELLE:Yes,Lukasisnotansweringmycallseither.Filipcanhaveaterribletempertoo.Lukas,well,heandSylviehavealwayshadaspecialrelationship.AMY:Idon’tmeantopry,butdoesLukasdisappearonyouoften?ESTELLE:Sure.ThereareoftenlongperiodswhenIdonotknowwhereheis,becausewebothtravelsomuch.Butusuallyhereturnsmycalls.Iimaginethismustbehorribleforhim.Iamworried.AMY:Estelle,wereFilipandSylvieromanticallyinvolved?ESTELLE:…Honestly,Idonotknowtheanswertothat,butiftheywere,itwasonlyasurfacelove.Ithinkyoubetteraskhimyourself.IhavenoideawhereLukasisrightnowbutIcantellyouthatmostweekends,FilipperformswiththeNetherlandsPhilharmonicOrchestra.Iamsosorry,Amy.TrulyIam.ButIamsurethatneitherofthemhadanythingtodowithSylvie’stragicpassing.Chapter25
Sylvie
Monday,April25
ThehousefeltstrangelyemptywhenLukasandIopenedthefrontdoor—andwherewasIsa’scoat,whichshenormallyhungontherack?Perhapsshewasatthestore.LukasandItiptoedupstairs,incaseGrandmawassleeping.Iclutchedherpresent,thewhite-goldkeychainandMuranokey,inmyhand.Herdoorhadbeenleftajar.Ipusheditallthewayopenandasuddenwaveofcoldsweptoverme.Herbedwasmadeandempty.Hermedicinesandoxygentankweregone.No,itcouldnotbe.Iftherehadbeenanincident,HelenaandWillemwouldhavecalledus.
Lukasstoppedmidstride.Thenhewascallingoverthestaircase,“Ma,Pa!WhereisGrandma?”
Willememergedfromtheirbedroom,unshaven,stillwearinghispajamas.
Somethingwaswrong.Icouldnotgetenoughair.Ipressedmyknucklesagainstmysore,achingheart.Myvoicewassmallandtight.“DidyoumoveGrandmatoahospice?”
Heshookhisheadandhiscrimson,swolleneyessaidenough.
Lukaswhispered,“No.”
Igrippedtheleftsideofmyheadasiftocovermyear,asifthatwouldstopWillemfromconfirmingwhatIalreadyknew.Mybreathraspedinmychest.IstartedtolurchintoGrandma’sbedroombutmykneesgavewayandIbumpedintothedoorframe,theglasskeydiggingintomypalm.IstaggeredforwarduntilIfellfacedown,armssplayed,ontoGrandma’sbed,whereIhadspokentoheronlyafewdaysago.Thekeyfellfrommystupefiedfingers,hitthewoodenfloor,andshattered.IpressedmyfaceintothecoverletthathadoncewarmedGrandma,andthatwasstillherewhilemygrandmawasdead,andsobbed.
Thebedshifted,therewasaweightbesideme,andthenLukaswasstrokingmyback.Hesaid,“Oh,Sylvie,”inavoicecloggedwithtears.PoorLukas.Grandmahadcaredforhimhisentirelife.
Hesniffed,andIpushedmyselfuprightsoIcouldwrapmyarmsaroundhim.Weheldeachotherwhileweconvulsedwithgrief.
ThenWillem’sarmswerearoundusbothandIstiffened.Hesmelledofsweat,hisfleshtoowarmthroughhisthinpajamas.TheembracewasintimateandIshiftedaway.
Lukasasked,hisfacetear-stained,“How?Whydidyounotcallus?”
Willemstraightenedandrakedhisfingersthroughhisdisheveledhair.“Sheinstigatedtheeuthanasiaprocedurethemomentyouweregone.Shedidnotwantyoutobenotified.Donotfeelbad.Sheplanneditthatway.Itwaswhatshewanted.”
Atthis,Ihidmyfaceinmypalms.Grandmadidnotwantmewithher.Evenshehadrejectedmeintheend.ShehaddiedwithonlyWillemandHelenaaroundher.IhadtakenherLukasawaytoo.Becauseofme,shehaddiedessentiallyalone.
Lukascroaked,“Butwedidnotgettosaygoodbye.”
Willemraisedhisarmsasifhewantedtocomfortusonceagain,thoughtbetterofit,andletthemdroptohissides.“Shewantedtogowithaslittlefussaspossible.Shearrangeditmonthsagowiththeeuthanasiacommissiononcesheknewshewasterminal.”
Imanagedtoask,“Howdidithappen?”
“Verypeacefully.Shestartedtheprocedureassoonasyouleft.Twodoctorscameyesterday—herownandtheonefromthecommission.Theyspoketoherseparatelytomakesureshewasdoingitoutofherownfreewill,andthatshewasinherrightmind.”Willemwasrubbingthebackofhisear,anervoustichehad.
Yesterday:whileLukasandIweredancingandkissing,andIwasoffhavingfunwithmyfriends.Icanbarelysqueezeoutthewords.“Anddiditgoquickly?”
“Twoshots.Onetoputhertosleepandtheothertostopherheart.Shedidnotsufferatall.Sheisatpeace.”
Ahard,brittlevoicecamefromthedoorway.“DidyouenjoyyourtimeinVenice?”ItwasHelena,hereyesaflame,skinpaleandblotchy,jawclenchedasiftoholdbackherangerandgrief.
Lukassaid,hisvoicebreaking,“Mother,wedidnotknow.Weneverwouldhavegone.”
Shecameovertothebedandputherarmsaroundhim.“Iamnotblamingyou.”Hereyeswereonme.Itwasclearwhosheblamed.
IlongedtohaveGrandmaorsomethingofhersinmyarmsagain.Ilookedaroundthebareroom.“WhereisTasha?”
“Whoisthat?”askedHelena.
Isaidinaquietvoice,“Youknow.ThedollGrandmamadeforme.ShewasonthebedsidetablewhenIleft.”
Sheshrugged.“Wemusthavethrownitawaybyaccident.”
Irecoiledasifshehadstruckme.Ipressedmyfisttomymouthtokeepfromcryingout.Tasha,Grandmagone.ItwasjustlikethedayIhadlefttheNetherlands,losingeveryoneIhadloved.Irealizedsuddenly,ofcourseHelenahadtakenTashathentoo.Whatacruelthingtodotoachild.NowsheknewIhadGrandma’streasureandhadstolenTashafromme.LukaslookedbetweenusandreachedoutformebutIstoodsuddenly.Ifhetouchedme,IwouldbreakdownagainandIrefusedtodothatinfrontofthiswoman,whohadalwayshatedme.
IstumbledoutoftheroomandletthegrieftakemeonceIwasaloneinmyatticroom.
VenicehadbeenabeautifuldreambutnowIwasconfrontedbyrealityagain.Grandmawasgone.HerthingshadbeeneitherthrownawayorhiddensomewhereandHelenawouldneverallowmeaccess.Tasha,thedollGrandmahadmadeformewithherownhands,hadbeentossedinthetrash.IhadnotbeenhereforGrandmaforalltheseinterveningyearsandwasnotheretoholdherwhenshedied.
Ilayonmybedalldayandnight.IsentFilipatextmessagecancelingtherestofmylessons.Lukastriedtoseeme,butIwouldnotlethimin.Ilovedhim,butitcouldnotgoanyfurther.Ihadbeenburnedenough.IsavoredourtimeinVenice:thelonging,theawarenessofhim,hisskin,hissmell,histouch…butafterthiscamepassionandthen,inevitablyitseemed,betrayal.Iknewthisdesire,toedgeclosertothecliff,totemptfate.Ihadleapedoffbeforeandbarelysurvivedit.IwasnotsureIhad.MygriefconsumedmeandIcouldnotbearanymorerisktomywoundedheart.
Estelleleftmemessages,butIdidnotrespond.Friendshiphadfailedme.Inaway,IwasangryatallthreeofthemfortemptingmetogotoVenice,thoughIknewitwasmyownfault.Besides,Ihadalreadydoneenoughdamagetoourgroup
WhenIcouldspeakagain,IcalledMaandtoldherthathermotherwasdead.Shekeened,eachcryhittingatenderspotinsideofme.IdidnotdaretellherthatIhadnotbeenthereattheend.IfailedinmyoriginalpurposeincomingtotheNetherlands.WhenAmy’svoicecameonthephone,Isaid,“TakecareofMaforme,”andshepromised,“Iwill.”
Twodayslater,itwasKing’sDay,thebirthdayofKingWillem-Alexander.EventhoughIstayedinsidethehouse,IhadtoenduretheknowledgethathordesofDutchinfluorescentorangeclothingwerecelebratinganddrinkingthroughouttheland.TheypaintedDutchflagsontheirfaces;dressedinorangeboasandhugesunglassesthatreadKING;worehatsthatcouldholdaliterofbeer,whichtheythenpipedtotheirmouthswithasiphon.Itwasanexcusefortheever-controlledDutchtocutloose.Somepeoplesaveduptheentireyearfortheirpartyingonthisday.Itwastheworstdayforgrieving.
WhenIwaslittle,itwascalledQueen’sDay,sinceQueenBeatrixstillreigned.Grandmalovedthisholiday.Itwastheonedayintheyearwheneveryonecouldselltheiroldjunkonthestreet,withoutapermitofanykind.ShewouldwakemeandLukasearly,sothatweleftthehousebyseveninthemorning.
“Quickly,orallofthegoodthingswillbegone,”shesaid.Shewheeledherlargeshoppingcartalongwithus.Thesquareinthecenterwouldhavebeentransformed,coveredwithchildrenandparentshuddledagainsttheearlymorningwind,eachguardingatarpmoundedhighwitholdtoys,books,teacups,bicycles.Peoplewouldbesippingcoffeebleary-eyed,dressedinunbearablybrightorangeshirtsandhats.Grandmalovedagoodbargainandwouldstopateverystand.ShealwaysgaveLukasandmesomemoneytospendaswell—fiftycentsforapuzzle,aguilderforatoycar.Sometimespeoplesoldfreshlybakedcookiesorcupcakes.Lukasalwaysspenteverythingatonce,onmarbles,plasticdinosaurs,Legosets,butIlikedtosavemymoney,knowingImightfindsomethingmoreexpensive.ItwasattheQueen’sDaystreetmarketsthatIboughtlavender-scentedcandlesanddelicateteacupsforGrandma,Helena,andWillem.DespitemyfearofHelena,Istilllovedherandtriedmyhardesttopleaseher.Grandmaboughtuscupsofhotchocolateorwarm,freshlymadecaramelwafflestomunchonasweshopped.Shewouldfillhershoppingcartwithminiaturechinaballerinas,bronzeclocks,crystalglasses,andthenwewouldwalkhometogether,withLukaspushingthecartandGrandmaandIfollowing,swingingourhands.
Beforeshedied,IhadspokentoGrandmaaboutDutchburiallawsandherwishes.ThiswasnotveryChinese.Wedidnotliketospeakopenlyaboutdeath,butIwantedtomakesureeverythingwasdoneinaccordancewithwhatshe,andnotHelena,wanted.
“What?Theycandigyouupaftertenyears?Andthenthrowyourbonesaway?”ThishadnotoccurredtoGrandma.InChina,theburialsitewasofutmostimportance.Familiesfoughtforthebestspotsonthemountainfortheirlovedonesbecauseitwastheonlyplacewithgoodfengshui.Thisway,theybelieved,thedepartedcouldcontinuetoblesstheliving.Theforcesofwind,water,andearthwereinharmonythere.Grandmashookherhead.“Barbarians.”
“Customsareverydifferenthere.TheburialrightsneedtoberenewedinHollandandwithincemeteriesbecauseitissocrowded.Thereisnotenoughroom.Theyoftenwillnotpermitarenewalaftertenyears.”
Grandmaleanedbackagainstherpillows,hercheeksandeyessunkenandstill.“Youdecide,Sylvie.”
ApangwentthroughmeatthethoughtofGrandma’sdeath.Howcoulditalreadybesonear?Ihadtopullmyselftogether.Themostimportantthingwasthatshewashappy.“Icannotdothat,Grandma.Thisistooimportant.Iwanttoknowyourwish.Thereisthepossibilityofanaturalgrave.Thatmeansthatyouwouldbeplacedsomewhereinnature,withoutatombstone.ManyDutchlovethisoption.”
Shehuffedandwavedherfrailhandaround.“Namelessandforgotten,inthesoggymudofthiscountry?Idonotthinkso.”
Ihidasmile.“Wecouldtrytotransportyoutoanotherland.”
ShesatupandIplacedapillowbehindherbacksoshewouldnottireherselfout.“Where?TotheBeautifulCountry,whereIhaveneverbeen?BacktotheCentralKingdom?No,Ihavebeenawaytoolong.Iwouldliketoflyfree,likethephoenix.Iwishtoseeyourgrandpaagain.Dragonandphoenix,yinandyang,manandwoman.Adeathshouldbefloatingcloudsandflowingwater:natural,beautiful,free.”Hervoicedriftedaway.Thetiradehadexhaustedher.
Itookherhandinbothofmine.HowhappyIwasthatshewasstillwithus.Ihadtosavoreachmomentwithher,nomatterhowbittersweet.Iclearedmythroattoridthethickness.“Wouldyouconsidercremation,then?”ThiswaswhatIwouldwantformyself.Goodriddancetothisbody.
Shethoughtforamomentandnoddedslightly.“Yes.Iamamodernwoman.Ourritualsmustfitthelandswelivein.OuroldfengshuimasterwouldhaveaterribletimehereinEurope.”
OnthedayofGrandma’sfuneral,wedrovethroughawoodedareatoalongone-storyrectangularbuildingsetlikeaconcreteblockwithinaflatmeadow.Aprilwassweetbutworeawhitehat.Despitesomeinitialwarmdays,thisonehadturnedouttobethecoldestinyears,closertothedepthsofwinterthananyrebirthofspring.Theskystretchedoverthehorizon,grayandclear,liketheirisofanunblinkingeye.WhenLukasandIsteppedfromthebackofHelena’scar,ourbreathsturnedtomist.Wewereascoldasnewlyshavensheep.
“AtleastGrandmawouldbehappyitisdry,”Lukassaid,hisbreathdisappearingintotheairlikeaghost.
Grandmahadalwayscarriedanumbrellabiggerthanshewasonrainydays.Shehatedthechillywetweather.Otherparentshadoftenremarkedthattheyexpectedhertotakeoffonthewindlikeanairplaneduringstorms.LukasandIhadbothfitbeneathhermassiveumbrella.HehadalwaysbeenalongboyandhadhelpedherholditasIclutchedherarmonherotherside.
Weenteredthereceptionhall,wheretheguestsweresupposedtowait.Tomysurprise,OmaandOpawerethere.Ihadcompletelyforgottenaboutthem.Omastartedwhenshesawme.Ididnotthinkshehadexpectedtoseemeeither.Ithadbeensomanyyears.TheyusedtovisitusfromBelgiumeverybirthdayandmajorholiday.WhereHelenahadgrownharder,OmaandOpahadgrownsmallerandsofter.Theirskinandeyeshadfadedtowhite,thoughOma’shairwasstilldyedblack.Ihadnotknownthemwell.Theyhadneverbeenaroundenoughtoenforcediscipline.IdidrememberthattheyalwaysbroughtlargesacksofchocolatewiththemforLukasandme.
Iwaslongerthanbothofthemnow.IbenttokissOmathreetimesonhercheeks
Tearssproutedinhereyes.“Iknowhowmuchyoulovedher.”
“Thankyou,Oma.”IhadnevernoticedtheirBelgianaccentswhenIwaslittle,buttheyhadonlyjustmovedtoAntwerpthen.ThiswashowIcouldmarktheyears:OmaandOpahadlivedtherelongenoughtodevelopaccents.
Opapattedmeonthearm.Itookamomenttolookaroundthechillyanddepressingreceptionarea.Therewasonlyalongmodernsofawithflatleathercushions.Itshardseatsweredarkbrownandthemulticoloredbeigeandorangebackrestshadbeenaddedinanattempttobringsomecheertotheroom.Everythingwasnondenominational.TherewasnosignofacrossoraBuddhaanywhere.Wehadbeenaskedifwewantedtohaveapriestandpolitelydeclined.ThisroomwasaspragmaticastheDutch,withnothingtosuggestanythingasnebulousasheavenoranafterlife.Iclosedmyeyesandofferedaprayertoourgods.PleasetakeGrandmaintothecompanyofourancestors.
Thefuneraldirector,astubbymaninadarksuit,greetedusandledustotheroomreservedforimmediatefamily.ItresembledatypicalDutchlivingroom,withafewsquareindigofabriccouchesarrangedaroundtwomismatchedcoffeetables.Wesatandwereservedteaandcoffee.Itfeltlikewewerevisitingdistantrelatives,notsayingfarewelltothewomanIhadlovedthemost,theonlyrealmotherIhadeverhad.
Thenthedirectortoldusthatifwewished,wecouldtakeleaveofthedepartedprivatelyinthemourningroom.Oma,Opa,Helena,andWillemstoodbutIremained.Lukasstayedbehindwithme,shiftingcloseronthesofa.IwouldnotsharemygriefwithHelenaanddidnotthinkshewishedmetowitnessherseither.Afteranawkwardpause,theyleft
Whentheyreturned,theireyeswereswollenandmostofHelena’smakeuphadwornoff.Ihadnotbotheredtoputonanycosmetics.ThenLukasandIenteredthemourningroomtogether.Itwastiny,barelyenoughroomforafewpeopletostandaroundtheclosedredmahoganycoffinsetonahightableinthecenter.Twolonelychairsleanedagainstthewall,whichhadbeenpaintedacalmingbeige.
Icouldnotcomprehendit:Grandmawasinsidethatcoffin.Howcouldshebreathe?Itmadenosense.Howtinyshemustbeinsidethere.Ifeltasuddenurgetoopenthelid,toreleaseher,tosetherfree.“ShedoesnotlikethatclunkyDutch-sizething.”
ThenalargehandtookmineandLukaswrappedmeinhisarms.“Sheisalreadygone.Sheisfree.”Iclosedmyeyesandrestedmycheekagainsthisshoulderashestrokedmyhair.Hesaidsoftly,“Nomorepain.Nogaspingforair.”
Thenwewererackedwithsobsagain,ourarmsaroundeachother,thetwochildrenGrandmahadtended.
“Wewerenothere,”Iwhispered.“Iletherdown.Itwasallmyfault.”
“No.”Heheldmychininhishandandbenttobrushawaymytears.“Shewanteditthisway.Doyourememberthelastthingshesaidtous?”
“‘Openyourhearts.Behappy.’”Andwiththosewords,myburdenlightenedjustabit.Inmymind,Isaid,Grandma,Iknowyoucanhearme.Iloveyou.
Iheardheranswerinmyheart:Iloveyoutoo,SnowJasmine.
Whenitwastimefortheceremony,Lukas,Willem,Opa,Oma,Helena,andIactedasthepallbearers.Wetookthesixhandlesonthecoffin.ItwasheavierthanIhadexpected.ThewoodprobablyweighedmorethanGrandmaherself.OpaandOmastoodatthefront,HelenaandIwereinthemiddle,andLukasandWillemtookuptherear.
Thehandleburnedintomyhand.Thepressurewasunbearable.IwascarryingthebodyofGrandma.Atearrolledovermycheek.Shewastrulyinside.Iwouldneverseeheragain,feelherhandsholdingmine.Iwouldnevergettotakeheronaluxuriousholiday,treathertoarestaurant,ortakeherhometoChina.Itwastoolate.
Asweenteredthemainroom,Iwassurprisedtofindpeopleinattendance.Ihadnotexpectedanyone.EstelleandFilipsatinthefrontrow.ItwasclearEstellehadbeencrying,andFilipgavemeasmallsympatheticsmile.PerhapsIhadnotcompletelyruinedourcircleoffriends.Ourneighborswereallhere,thegoodfaithfulDutch.EventhoughGrandmahadneverlearnedhowtospeaktothem,theystillcame.Themusicwassomegenericclassicalassortmentthatthecrematoriumhadchosen.Grandmanevertoldmeifshehadapreference.
Asweapproachedthefront,IwaspleasedtofindthetableforthecoffinlaidoutintheChineseway,withalargeframedpictureofGrandmaatthefront.IexamineditmorecloselyandrealizeditwasoneofthephotosLukashadtakenthedayIhaddoneherhairandmakeup.
Lukaswhisperedtomeaswetookourplaces,“Shepickeditoutherself.”
Theroomwasaustere—rowsofchairsinaneatlinefacingthecoffinandthepodium,whichwouldremainunused.FortheChinese,afuneralisatimeforgrief,tears,breast-beating,foldingofsacredpaperstobeburnedthatwillthenturnintogoldandsilverforthedeceased.Theroomshouldbethickwithincensesmoke.Wherewerethechantingmonks,themournersoverwhelmedwithpain?Oh,Grandma,Ithought,wehavecomeintoastrangeforeignland
HerflowershadnotbeenmadeintoChinesefuneralwreaths.HelenaandWillemhadneverfollowedtheoldcustomshere.Whatwouldtheneighborssayaboutusburningritualpapersinthebackyard?IthoughtwithgratitudeofMaandPa,whohadalwaysfollowedourtraditionsintheirlittlebackgarden,wheretheanonymityofNewYorkCityprotectedus—noonehadeversaidawordiftheynoticedusatall—andofthekindmonksinourtempleinChinatown,wherewewenttofindoutourfortunesfortheyear,eachprophecyshakenfromabamboojar.HowIwishedIcouldhavetakenGrandma.Howmuchroomcouldtherebeforregretsinoneperson?Minewereinfinite.
EstelledabbedherfacewithatissueandFiliplinkedhisarmthroughhers.Ihadknownthisdaywascoming.How,then,wasitstillsobitter?IthurttoleaveGrandmabehindinhercoffinaswelefttheroom.
Intheotherroom,everyonewasservedteaorcoffeeandaslabofcake.Itwasverycivilized.Theneighbors,embarrassedbyanystrongemotion,includinggrief,gaveusalltheeternalthreekissesonourcheeks,said,“Condolences,”andleft.NoneofthemhadtrulyknownGrandma.ShewasjustthefunnylittleChinesewomanwholivedontheirstreet.
Therewasataponmyarm.ItwasFilip.IlethimdrawmeoutsidetheroomunderLukas’swatchfulgaze.
Whenwewerealone,hesaid,“Isitgoingallright?”Hedidnotwaitformetoanswerbeforepullingmeintohisarmsandholdingmetight.“Donotblameyourself.”
Isniffed.“Iamsosorry,Filip.”Ihadtreatedhimsobadly.
Hisvoicewasmuffledinmyhair.“Itwasalwaysonlyajestbetweenthetwoofus,darling.Iknewthat.”
Ilethimleaveitatthat.Butifthatwastrue,whyhadhebeensoangryinVenice?
AsIreturnedtotheroom,IthoughtoftheDutchchildren’ssong:
Inagreen,green,green,greentubertubercountryTherearetwohares,verydapperAndtheoneblewtheflute-flute-fluteAndtheotherhitthedrumThensuddenlyahunter-hunter-mancameAndheshotoneAndthatmade—youmustknow—Theothersadandworried
NowwithGrandmagone,oneofmytwolifelineshaddisappeared,thesecurityofherarms,hersmile,herloveforme.
LukaswasallIhadlefthere.
TelephoneCall
Thursday,April28
SYLVIE:Shedidnotwishtodieadog’sdeath,Ma.And,intheend,sheshedthereddustofthemortalworldwiththegraceoffloatingcloudsandflowingwater.MA:Iamgladyouwerewithher,SnowJasmine.Ionlywish—[sobs]SYLVIE:Oh,Ma.AMY:Sylvie,it’sme.TalkingistoomuchforMarightnow.SYLVIE:Hey,I’vemissedyou.AMY:Areyoudoingokay?SYLVIE:Oh,sweetie.Actually,it’sbeenprettyhard.[Voicebreaks]IlovedGrandmasomuch.AMY:Iknow,Sylvie.Butshe’sstillwithyou.I’msureofit.Whenareyoucominghome?SYLVIE:I’mnotsure.Myworkhere’snotquitefinished.I’llflybackassoonasIcan.AMY:Ofcourse,Sylvie.Ican’twaittoseeyou.SYLVIE:TakecareofMaforme,okay?AMY:Iwill.Seeyousoon.SYLVIE:Loveyou.I’llbebackbeforeyouknowit.Chapter26
Amy
Sunday,May15
TheNetherlandsPhilharmonicOrchestrahasawebsiteinEnglish.Ichecktheirprogramandseethey’reperformingtonightinAmsterdamattheDutchNationalOperaandBallet.Gotyounow,Filip.They’resettoplayDvo?ák’sRusalka,afavoriteofmine,anoperaaboutawaternymphwholeavesherownkindandtherebygivesupthepowerofspeech.Buttheshowiscompletelysoldout,andIwouldn’tbeabletospeaktohimthereanyway.I’llhavetoconfronthimafterwardorduringoneofthetwointermissions.IthinkbacktoourrideontheEpsilonboat.He’sasmoker.EverythingindoorsintheNetherlandsisnonsmoking,sohe’lllikelybeoutsideduringthebreak.Iknowthefirstacttakesaboutanhour.IfIhurry,Imightbeabletocatchhimtoday.
ItakethetraintoAmsterdamCentralStation,andtransfertoasubwaytoWaterlooplein.It’snowpasteighto’clockintheeveningandstilllightoutside.Ihavetosquintagainstthesettingsun.
Iwalkpastthesweeping,blocklikemassofthemainbuildingtoreachthecurvedfacadeoftheoperahousefacingtheAmstelRiver.Ileanagainstoneofthedockpostsandwatchastheskiesdarken,thewhitemarblefrontevolvingfromagoldensunlitglowintocolumnsofbrilliantsapphire,litbyblueartificiallights.Severalboatsaredockedalongthewaterfront.Beyondthem,theriverhasturnedbroodingandblack.Thelargewindowsrevealcurvedinteriorfoyersandmultilevelterracesbarrenofpeople.
Someone’sproppedopenafewdoorsandIcanhearthefaintstrainsof“SongtotheMoon”fromActI.Ihaven’tmissedthefirstintermissionthen.Thesinger’smelancholyvoicefloatsacrossthewater,yearningforlove:
Moon,highanddeepintheskyYoutravelaroundthewideworld,andseeintopeople’shomes.Moon,tellmewhereismydear.
ItremindsmeofSylvie.TheAutumnFestival,whichfallsonthefifteenthdayoftheeighthlunarmonth,wasalwaysherfavoriteholiday.Shewouldstandatourwindowandgazeoutatthefullmoon.Ionceheardherwhisper,“UncleMoon,comedownandhaveapieceofcake.”Shehadtoldme,“WhenImovedtoAmericafromtheNetherlands,themoonwastheonlythingthatcamewithme.”ItwasoneofthefewtimesshespokeaboutthelifeshehadbeforeIexisted.Outhere,inthelonelynight,thetearsrundownmycheeks,wherenoonecansee.
Ihearagongandthecrowdofwell-dressedpeopleinsidebegintoapproachthedoors.It’stime.Thereareseveralexitpoints.Ipacebackandforth,afraidtomisshim,andwonderwhatI’mdoing,confrontingamanIthinkmightbeinvolvedinmysister’sdeath.ButwhocouldIhavebroughtasbackup?ThepolicethinkI’mbeingridiculousandLukashasdisappeared.ThesoundsofDutchandlaughterdriftlikeacloudallaroundme.Istarecarefullyintoeachperson’sface,hopingtofindFilipinthehalfdarkness.There,abunchofpeopleinblacktiewalkoutofasidedoorthatlookslikeitcouldbetheexitforthemusicians.Icirclethem,butheisnotapartofthegroup.
ThenIcatchsightofalonecigarette’sglowandrecognizeFilipatonce:hisathleticbuild,thetiltofhishead.Hestandsbyhimselfatthewater’sedgeontheperipheryofthecrowd.ArawbreezewhipsthroughmeandIshiver.Peoplechatterloudlytooneanotheranddrinkchampagne.Wouldanyoneseeorhearifhepushedmeinthewater?
AsIstepuptohim,hejerksanddropshiscigarette.“Youstartledme.”
“Youowemeanexplanation.”
Hewaveshishandinadismissivegesture.“Thisisnotagoodtime.Ihavetogobackinsidesoon.”
Myneckgoesstiffandmypulsepoundsinmyears.Ishovehiminthechest,hard,despitethefactthathe’salmostafoottallerthanme.Hestumblesbackward.Myvoicecomesoutinafurioushiss.“My.Sister.Is.Dead.Youliedtome.Youmusthaveliedtoher.Howdareyoutrytogetridofmenow?”
Hiseyesflareandhisfaceturnsintosomethinghardandfurious.HeraiseshisarmasiftostrikemeandIamsuddenlyafraid.It’ssodark.I’msurenoonecanseeus.Thewaveslapatthedockandthewaterseemssinisterandvast.Istepback.
Theangerdrainsfromhisfaceandhepressesafistagainsthischest.Hesqueezeshiseyesshut.“Iamsorry.Foreverything.”
Iamstilltremblingandwrapmyarmsaroundmyself.“W-whydidyoujumponmybicycle?”
Hestaresintothedistance,unabletomeetmyeyes.Hescuffshisfootagainsttheground.“Iwasbackinthevillage,seeingmyfolks.IhadaconcertonMother’sDay,soIwouldnotbeabletogohome.Iwenttogivemymotherhergiftearly.IwasonmywaywhenIspottedyouwithLukasandEstelleoutsidethecaféandIunderstoodimmediatelywhoyouwere.SoIfollowedyou.OnceyoustartedgoingbacktoLukas’shouse,itwassimpletofigureoutwhereIcouldinterceptyou,especiallysinceyoubikeslowerthanasnail.”Asmallsmilecreaseshislipsatthis.
Asuddengustofwindsweepsmyhairforward.Igatheritbackoutofmyfaceimpatiently.“Butwhy?”
Heswipesahandoverhisface.“IcaredaboutSylvie.IwashopingyouwouldhireEpsilon.Ihavenoright,butyoudobecauseyouareafamilymember.IhadsuggestedthemtoLukas,buthewouldnotlistentome.HewasstillangryoversomethingthathappenedinVenice.IwasafraidifItoldyouthetruth,youwouldaskLukasaboutmeandhewouldstopyou.Heprettymuchwentoutofhismindwhenshedisappeared.Ihaveneverseenhimlikethat,likeabeasthadtakenhimover.Ithinkhewasindenialthatshemightbedead.”Hethrowshishandsup.
Icrossmyarmsandtrytomakeouthisexpression.“Whydidn’tyoutellmewhoyouwereafterwegottoknoweachotherabit?IwouldhavedoneanythingtohelpSylvie,includingkeepingasecretfromLukas.”
Hesighs.“ItbeganwithanimpulseandthenIwascaughtinthelie.Iwastryingtofindtherightmomenttotellyou,butthen—”Hebreaksoffandtugsathisear.
Thereisamomentofawkwardsilence.Ifinishforhim.“Idevelopedthatridiculouscrushonyou.Istaredatyouandcalledyouasexobjectandsentyouamilliontexts.Youwereembarrassed.”Mycheeksmustglowinthedarkness.Butitdoesn’tmatter.IneedtofigureoutwhathappenedtoSylvie.“WhydidyouandLukasfight?Imean,whatwastherealreason?”
Hewrapsbotharmsaroundhishead,anunusuallygawky,gracelessmoveforhim.“Thetruth?Iwasjealous.”
Ifurrowmybrowandbitemylip,tryingtoassimilateeverythinghe’ssaying.“BecauseyouwereafraidLukaswouldtakeSylvieawayfromyou?Eventhoughhe’swithEstelle?”
Filipdoesn’tanswerandcovershisfacewithhishands.Hestartstoheave.Atfirst,I’mafraidhe’scrying,butthenIrealizehe’slaughing,longandbitter.
Istareathim.Lukas’scrazedgrief.HowFilipletLukashithimoverandoveragain,notliftingafingertodefendhimself.“YouwereneverromanticallyinvolvedwithSylvie.”
Heshakeshishead,hiseyesstillclouded,butnotwithhumor,withpain.HisgazeisfixedonmeandIunderstand.
“Youthoughtthatifshewasfound,hewouldbeabletomoveon.”HehaddoneitallforLukas.Filiphadn’tbeenjealousofLukas.He’dbeenjealousofSylvie.Iaskgently,“Howlonghaveyoubeeninlovewithhim?”
Hisfaceintheshadowsisunspeakablysad.“Forever.”
Ireachoutmyarmsandhegoesintothem.Weholdeachotherforalongmoment.IbreatheinhissmellofcigarettesmokeandEarlGreytea.Imutterintohisshirt,“Ijustwanttomakeitclearthatyouwerenevermytype.”
Hebreaksintoasurprisedchuckle.Asweseparate,webothhavetearsinoureyes.Theairbetweenusfeelslighternow,asifagreatweighthasfallenaway.
ThereisathicknessinmythroatasIask,“Didyouevertellhim?Imean,you’reDutch,forgoodness’sake.YouliveinAmsterdam.”
Herollshisshouldersandblowsoutaseriesofshortexhales,asiftoregaincontrol.“EveryoneexceptLukasknows.Imadeitverycleartohimonce.Wewerethelastonesinthelockerroominhighschoolandwe’djustgottenoutoftheshowers.Helookedsobeautiful,withthewatercrustedonhiseyelashes,Ijust—”Filipbreaksoffandsighs.Heworkshisjaw.“ImadeitperfectlyobvioushowIfeltabouthimandhewashorrified.”
Ilaymyhandonthesilkyfabricofhistuxedo.“I’msosorry.Hewasyoung.”
Heplacesahandovermineandgivesitawarmsqueeze.“Iknow.Weweaveourownwebs.Thentheytrapus.Afterthat,Itriedhardtoconvincehim,myself,andmyfamilythatIwasnotgay,thattheincidenthadbeenajoke.Imarriedawonderfulwoman.Butitneverworkswhenyoudenywhoyoutrulyare.Youknowwhatshesaidtomewhenwegotdivorced?Shesaid,‘LukasisyourFrenchRevolution.Onceyoulovedhim,everythinginyourlifefellintoabeforeandafter.Nothingwouldeverbethesame.’”
Filiplooksmedirectlyintheeyes.Ishiverundertheweightofhisstare.Heleansincloseandwhisperstome,“LukaswasmyFrenchRevolutionandSylviewashis.”
TextMessageAMY:IjustspoketoFilipandalotofthingsareclearernow.Okay,I’msorry,Ihaveastupidquestion.IsLukasyourboyfriend?ESTELLE:Oh,honey.Absolutelynot.AMY:Butyoualwayskisshimonthelips.Youholdeachother.ESTELLE:Iamphysicalwithmanypeople.Motherskisstheirchildrenthatwayhere.Itdoesnotmeananything.IamnottheoneforLukas.AMY:Sylvie.ESTELLE:Yes.
It’slatewhenIgethome,andHelenaandWillemhavealreadygonetobed.Ihavebittenallofmynailstothequick.MymindhasbeenchurningtheentiretripovereverythingI’velearnedfromFilipandEstelle.CouldLukaspossiblyhavesomethingtodowithSylvie’sdeath?Jealousy?Ithinkabouthiswildeyes,hisenormoushands.Wasthatwhyhedidn’twantanyonetofindthebody?Iftherewereanymarksonher,we’dneverknowsincethepolicerefusedtodoanautopsy.OrwasitsomethingwithhimandJim?ButJimhasnorealmotive.Irememberallthetalkaboutthegold.HelenasuspectedSylvieoffakingtheburglary.WhatifLukashaddeliberatelycastthesuspiciononhersowhenshedisappeared,Helenawouldassumeshehadtakenit?Couldhepossiblybesuchagoodactor?ButIcan’tbelieveLukaswouldhavehurtmysister.IfwhatEstelleandFilipsaidistrue,thenLukashasbeenlyingtomeandeveryoneelseabouthisrelationshipwithSylvie—butconfrontinghimdirectlywillonlyalerthimtomysuspicions.
ItiptoeintotheunlithouseandknowwhatIhavetodo.I’llsearchLukas’sapartmentwhilehe’sgone.Iwedgethedooropenwithmyfootsotheoutdoorlightilluminatesthekeyrackthathangsintheentryway.OnekeyislabeledLUKAS.ProbablysohisparentscanlookafterCouscousandhisapartmentwhenhe’straveling.Easy.
Itakeadeepbreath.MyfingersarenumbwithfearbutIhavetodoitnowwhileIhavethechance.Itakethekeyandgentlypullthefrontdoorclosedbehindme.Halfofthemoonhoverssuspendedinthehollowsky,theotherhalfobliteratedbydarkness.Thesharpwhitestonespavingthefrontlawnglintinthemoonlightlikebones.ItakeasteptowardtheconvertedgaragebutfreezeasIcatchsightofLukas’sscooterparkedinthedriveway.Thelightsflickoninside.He’sback.
Istompmyfootonthehardearth,butapartofmeisrelievedaswell.Irakemyfingersthroughmyhairandturnaround,defeatedfornow.Iwhisperintothenightair,“Ifonlyyoucouldtellmewhathappenedtoyou,Sylvie.”
Chapter27
Sylvie
Friday,April29
Mygriefanddisappointmentoverwhelmedmysystem.Iwaslistlesswithdespair.Thesharpedgehadbeendulled.IfeltasifIwerecarryingagreatweightonmybackthatdraggedmetowardtheearth.NowthatGrandmawasgone,Ihadnoexcusetostayanylonger—unlessLukasaskedmeto,andIwasnotgoingtohangaroundwaitingforhim.HehadnotgivenmeanyindicationthathefeltthesamewaynowthathehadinVenice.Ithoughtofthatnightoverandover,butitwas,intheend,nothingbutakiss.Whowouldwantmenow?Iwasabrokenwomansaddledwiththeprospectofamessydivorce.
Wheneveningfell,Ipackedmythings,tookmycello,andwenttoLukas’sapartmenttotellhimIwasleavingthenextmorning.HecouldreturnthecellowithitscasetoFilipforme.Irangthedoorbell.Nooneanswered.Hisbicycleandscooterwereparkedinthedriveway.Hewasprobablyworkingandcouldnothearme.
Iusedmykeytoletmyselfinsideandsetmycellobesidehisfrontdoor.
“Lukas?”Icalledout.
Iheardafaintnoisefromthebackofthestudio,wherehehadhisdarkroom.Iwalkedtowardthedouble-hingeddoorwayandknockedonthedoor.Thistime,hesaidsomethingindecipherablefrominside.Icrackedopenbothdoorsandwaitedbehindthedarkcurtain.
“Whoisthere?”heasked.
“Me.Thelightsareoff.Youdonotneedtoworry.”
Hisvoicegrewwarmandintimate.“Comein.LetmeshowyouwhatIamdoinghere.”
Intheglowoftheoverheadredlight,Icouldjustmakeouthistallfigure.Hestoodbesideoneofthelargewashbasins.Thescentofchemicalstickledmynostrils.Hewashangingaphototodryonaline.Thedarkroomwascoveredwithpictures.IsquintedtoseebutasIrecognizedthem,letoutashakybreath.PerhapsIhadnotbeenasdelusionalasIhadthought.
Isteppedupbehindhimandwrappedmyarmsaroundhiswaist.“Theseareallofme.Thatoneismyweakeye.”
Hisvoicewashusky.“Iloveyoureye.”
Itwasatightshotofmyrighteye,probablytakenduringourtimeinVenice:thealmondshape,thelongfinelashes,theirislitupbythesunandeversoslightlytiltingoutwardtowardalandscapenooneelsecouldsee.
WhyhadIwaitedsolong?Ileanedmycheekagainsthisback,sobroadandstrong.Ifelthimstripoffthethickrubberglovesandrinsehishands.HeturnedaroundandIwasinhisarmsagain,whereIhadalwayswantedtobewithouteverknowingit.
Ileanedmyforeheadagainsthischestandtookadeepbreath.Ihadtosayit.“Myflightistomorrow.Ijustfinishedpacking.”
Hestiffenedandgrippedmebytheshoulderssohardithurt.“What?No.Sylvie,whataboutus?”
Ishookmyhead,myhairbrushingagainsthishands.“Lukas,youdonotknoweverythingaboutme.”
Hegrowled,lowandurgent,“Iknowenough.WhenyoucamebackandIsawyouagainattheairport,IfeltlikeIhadbeenstruck.Everypieceofmylifefellintoplaceinthatmoment.”
Myvoicewassosmall,italmostsqueaked.“WhydidyounotcometomethatlastnightinVenice?”
Hesighedandpulledmeclosetohimagain.Hislargehandstrokedmyhair.“Iwasafraidyouwerenotready.Youwerenewlyseparatedfromyourhusband.Youwereseeinghimeverywhere.AndthenwereturnedandGrandma—itdidnotseemtherighttime.IsupposeIstillwasnotsureyouwantedmeinsteadofFilip.”
MylegswereweakandIfeltthetearsbehindmyeyelids.“Youhavetounderstand.Iruineverything.”
“Nottrue.”Herestedhischeekagainstthetopofmyhead.
Iputmyheartonmytongue,wiseornot.Ilaidmytremblinghandagainstthesideofhisneck.Ihadtogivehimthechancetosaynototherealme.“Ialwaystrysohardandyet,itallgoeswrong.Noonereallylikesme.Notaftertheyknowme,anyway.OnecolleaguetookmeouttolunchjustsoshecouldletslipthateveryonethoughtIwassleepingmywaytothetop.Whenyouareawoman,peoplealwaysassumesuccesscomesfromyourbedroomandnotyourboardroomskills.”Despitemyself,myvoicecracked.“Beforethen,IhadthoughtIwasgettingalongwellwithpeopleatwork.IbelievedIhadfriends.”HowIwantedthattobetrue.“Afterthat,Ilearnedtokeepmydistance.”
Lukasdrewbacktolookatme.Hiseyesweretender.
“Thenmymarriagewentdownthedrain.”
Hecaressedthesideofmyfacewithhiscallusedpalm.“Didyoureallythinkanyofthiswouldmattertome?”
Despitemyself,IsniffedandsaggedagainsthimasIstruggledtofindtherightwords.“Myownparentsdidnotwantme,Lukas.Ineverfitinanywhere.TheonlypeoplewhoevertrulycaredaboutmewereGrandmaandAmy.NowGrandmaisgoneandAmyisgrown.Shenolongerneedsme.AmygottheloveandIgotthesuccess,butIdonothaveanythinganymore.”
Hebentdown,hislipsabreathawayfrommyown,andsaidinahoarsewhisper,“Youhaveme.”
Chapter28
Amy
Monday,May16
MaandPaarescheduledtoarrivethisafternoon.Ipretendtohaveamigrainefromallthestresstoavoidpickingthemupfromtheairport.It’snotfarfromthetruth.Inthebathroommirror,Iseethatmyeyesaresunkenintotheirsockets,theskinaroundthemredandabradedfrommyconstantrubbing.Mylipslookasifalayerofwhitewaxhasmeltedoverthem,nowflakingoff.LukaswillaccompanyHelenaandWillem.Thisismychancetolookthroughhisapartmentwithoutanyonearound.
Assoonasthecarleavesthedriveway,Iraceovertohisapartmentwiththesparekeyinmyhand.Idecidetostartmysearchupstairs.Iamsurprisedbyhowneatitisforsuchashaggy,unshavenperson.Iheadforthedesk,whichsupportsamassivemonitorattachedtoalaptop.Ihesitatebeforeopeningthefirstdrawer.Ican’tbelieveI’mdoingthis.I’vebrokenintomycousin’sapartmentandsuspecthimofhavingsomethingtodowithSylvie’sdeath,maybeevenofmurderingher.Iamridiculous.
Franticwithenergy,Isearchhisdeskanyway—cables,anoldcellphone,flashdrives.Papersthatlooklikeinvoiceshe’ssenttopeople,withhisnameinbigblacklettersintheletterhead.Everything’sinDutch.Onedrawer’sfilledwithreceiptsfiledindifferentfolders.IfIwerearealdetective,Iwouldfigureoutsomethingcleverfromthis.Hestillhasathickpaperagenda.Iflipthroughitbutcan’treadaword.ThenIopenthelaptopandtryacoupleofpasswords:Sylvie’snameandbirthday.Buttheydon’twork.
WhydidIeverthinkIcouldaccomplishanythingbycominghere?MaandPawillarrivesoonandthenwe’llleaveforNewYorkandwe’llneverknowhowSylviewoundupatthebottomoftheAmsterdam-RhineCanal.Ichokebackasobandpressmyhandagainstmychest.Howcanthisbereal?Pullittogether,Amy.They’llbebacksoon.Itackletheagendaagain,thistimegoingthroughitpagebypage,checkingthedayswhenSylviewashere.
There,wedgeddeepintotheinnercrackofthebook,isanirregularslipofyellownotebookpaper.Itlookslikeit’sbeentornfromalargerpiece.Ipullitoutgentlywithmyfingernailsandgasp.
It’sSylvie’sangular,clearhandwriting.It’sjusthersignature,asifthisistheendofanoteshewrote,butinsteadofLeeshe’ssignedhernameasSylvieTan.Lukas’slastname.
Soit’strue.IthadbeenLukasandSylvieallalong.Shemusthavereallybeeninlovewithhimtopretendhislastnamewashers.Shehadn’teventakenJim’ssurnameaftertheywed.Perhapsthiswasatinybitofproof.Nowonderhe’dlookedsodistraught.Itucktheslipofpaperintomyjacketpocketandgothroughtheotherpapersmorecarefully.Idon’tfindanything,soIreturntothecomputer.
I’mstartledbyasoftscuffleandthenameowfromdownstairs.Coulditbe?ItypeinCouscous.Thelaptopunlocks.Iimmediatelygointohisemail,butagain,everythingseemstobewritteninDutch.Idon’tknowwhatI’mexpecting.ThathewroteaconfessioninEnglishandsentittosomeone?IntheSentfolder,IseewhatmustbedozensofemailstoSylvie.Noneofthemhaveareply.Ipickafewandsendthemtomyself.Icantryatranslationprogramonthemlater.I’mafraidhe’llbebackatanymomentsoIquicklygothroughtherestofhislaptop.TheDutchdocumentsareequallymysteriousand,withasigh,Iclickthecomputerclosed.
Iscantheroom.Acelloisproppedupagainstthecorner,nexttoitsblack-and-bluecase.Asharppainshootsintomyheart—hadthatbeenSylvie’s?Ispotanenormousmessenger-stylebagnexttothebrokencoffeetable.Theedgeofwhatlookslikeaportfoliopeeksfromunderneathitsgapingflap.
Iyankthebagtowardme.Iopenitandpullouttheportfolio.TearsspringtomyeyesasIpressmyknucklestomylips.InsideisphotoafterphotoofSylvie.SylvieinwhatmustbeVenice,withagondolainthebackground,smiling,radiantwithhappiness.Sylvie’swanderingeye—herthroatandlips.Strandsofherhair,blackinthewindagainstanItaliancathedral.Sylvielyingonthesofabedbehindme,strokingCouscous,stretchedoutacrossherstomach.IfIhadn’tsuspecteditbefore,thesephotoswouldhaverevealedLukas’sloveorobsessiontome.ButIamtakeninbytheopenwarmthandvulnerabilityinSylvie’seyesasshegazesatthephotographer.
Betweentheglossyphotos,IfindanoldPolaroid.Theedgesofitarewornasifit’sbeenhandledoftenintheinterveningyears.It’syellowedandfadingbuttheimageisstillclear:anawkward,homelyChinesegirl,abouteightyearsold,sittingonthefloorandtuckingherselfintothecornerlikeshewishesshecoulddisappear.Hershouldersarehunchedasiftowardoffablowthatsheknowsiscoming.Oneeyeishiddenbyadarkblueeyepatch,theotherglaresfrombeneathherunevenbangs.She’sscowling,staringatthecameraasifdaringittounveilhersecrets.Sheissodifferentfromtheimpeccablydressed,poisedsisterI’veknownmostofmylifethatittakesmeamomenttorealizeitisSylvie.She’sinhandmadeclothes,probablysewnbyGrandma:afunnylittleshirtwithaChineseMandarincollar.Thatshirtcouldnothavedoneabetterjobofmarkingherasdifferentinthiscountry.
Hermouthisstrangeandthick.Irealizeit’sbecauseofthecrookedfronttooththatprotrudesfromherfrontlip.I’dcompletelyforgotten.Sylviehaditfixedassoonasshewentawaytocollege.WasthiswhatSylviehadbeen—achilddrivenintothecorner?Iseeresentmentandafierceintelligenceonherexpressiveface,butthere’sfeartoo.WhathadWillemandHelenadonetoher?Iclutchthephototomychest.ThisiswhyIhavetofindoutwhathappenedtoher.Thisgirliscountingonme.
Morephotos:SylvieagainsttheopenDutchsky,theflatfieldslaidoutbehindher.SylvieonabicycleinAmsterdam.Sylviedrinkingteaatacafé.SylvieplayingthecelloinHelena’slivingroom.Sylvielaughingbesideabunchoftrees,waterbehindher,ahalf-eatensandwichinherhand.Irecognizethespot.That’swherewefoundherbody.
Ilookthroughallthephotosandthenrummagethroughtherestofthebag.Nothing.
Ihearacarpullintothedrivewayoutside.Ohno.Istillhaven’tfoundanything,exceptforevidencethatSylvieandLukashadanintimaterelationship.WhatwasIexpectinganyway?Iquicklyreplacethephotosandslidetheportfoliobackintothebag.
Couscoushaspaddedupstairsbynowandisplayingwithapartofthecellocase.Shewigglesherbuttandthenpouncesonthefrayedshoulderstrapthatislyingonthefloor.Ipause.Whyisn’tthecelloinsideitscase?
Ihearvoicesfromthelawn.They’regettingoutofthecar.LukaswillbebackatanymomentandI’mstillinsidehisapartment.Ihesitate,thenrunoverandswiftlyflipopenthecase.
There’sawornvelvetbagstuffedinside.Iknowwhatitisfromthewayitfeels:Grandma’smissingjewelry.IamfrozeninshockbeforeImakemyselfmove.Ohgods.Itcan’tbe.ItwasLukasafterall.Hetookthetreasurefromher,thenkilledher.Ican’tbecaughtinherewhenhecomesbackalone.Theonlyexitisthroughthefrontdoor.Thefamilymusthavegoneintothemainhousebynow.They’llrealizeI’mnotthereandhemightcomelookingforme.
Ihearthekeyinthelockdownstairs.I’mbreathingsoshallowly,IthinkI’mgoingtohyperventilate.AsquicklyandquietlyasIcan,Iracedownthestairs,stillluggingthejewelrybag.Thedoorishalf-opennowandIshoveagainstithard.
ItbouncesagainstLukas,wholetsoutayell,andthenI’mthroughtotheoutside.Hereachestograbmyarm.Hehasme,hisgripbruising,he’spullingmeinside.I’mtwistingandkickingandthenI’mlooseandIrunforallI’mworth.
Heyells,“Whatthe—?Whatisthat?Amy!Stop!”
Ihearhisfootstepsheavyandswiftbehindme,hislongerlegsgainingonmequickly.ThestonesareslipperyandIslide,almosttrip,thenIrecovermybalanceandkeepgoing.
Infrontofme,thelivingroomlightsareswitchedoninthemainhouseandIcanjustmakeoutthefamiliarfigurestandingbehindthegauzecurtain:Ma.
Ipoundonthedoor.Iringthedoorbellagainandagain.NowLukasisuponme.Hisgianthandsaregrabbingthebackofmyjacket.Heispullingmebackward.
Ihangontothedoorknob.“Openup!Please!”
ThedoorfallsawayandHelenaisstaringatme,hermouthopen.LukasandIbothfreeze.Itearawayfromhimandburstintothehouse,heavingandpanting.Iamdrenchedinclammysweat.Everyone’sgazeisfixeduponus.IhearLukas’sraggedbreathing,andthenfocusonMa’sandPa’sfamiliarfaces.It’sstrangetoseetheminthisforeignplace.They’resittingonthecouch;Willemhasstoppedshortbeforethemwithatrayofcoffeeandteainhishands.
Maisdeflatedlikeanemptytrashbag,wrinkled,old,andsagginginawayI’veneverseenbefore.It’sasifthelifehasdrainedoutofherwiththepassingofhermotheranddaughter.“Amy,whatgoingon?”shesays.
Icatchmybreath.Ican’tbelievewhatIhavediscovered.AmIsomehowwrong?HowcanIdevastatethemfurther?ShouldIstayquietasIalwayshave?Iamclutchingthebagtomystomach.It’shiddeninsidethefoldsofmyunzippedjacket.Icouldtakethetreasurehomewithusandletitallbeover.ExceptIcan’tgobacktothepersonIusedtobe.LukasmurderedSylvie.Theshockandhorrorofitechoesthroughmymind.Inatremblingvoice,Isay,“Weneedtocallthepolice.”
Lukasloomsbehindme.Icanfeeltheheatofhim,hisrageandfrustration.Whatwillhedonow?
Willem’sfaceisapolitemask.Hesetsdownthetraywithaclatter,buthisvoiceisdeliberateandcalm.“Whywouldweneedtodothat?”
Iambreathingsoshallowly,Icanbarelysaythewords.“BecauseyoursonkilledSylvie.”
Helenagasps;herfaceblotches.MajerksasifI’vedealtheraphysicalblowandPa’seyesbulgelikethoseofthefishhekills.Lukaslurchestowardme.AsIwinceawayfromhim,hegrabsthebackofachairandusesittobracehimself.Hehangshisheadsohishaircurtainshisface.
Thestunnedsilenceisbrokenbyalongpealoflaughter.Willemsays,“Averydramaticjoke,Amy.”
Iopenmyjacketandrevealthevelvetbag.ThemockingsmiledisappearsfromWillem’sface.FromthestrickenlookinMa’seyes,Iknowsherecognizesit.Idroptomykneesinfrontofthelowopiumtableandpouroutthecontents.Atfirst,asmallplasticbagemergesandI’mafraidthatIwasmistaken.Butthenpouchesofsilkenvelopestiedtogetherwithribbonsappear.Iopenonetorevealagoldnecklaceformedofapple-greenjadedroplets,eachteardropsettingwroughtintheshapeofalotusflowerandstuddedwithdiamonds.BothHelenaandMastarewithlongingontheirfaces,whetherforthejewelryorGrandma’slove,Icannotsay.
Istareatallofthem.“IfoundthishiddeninLukas’sroom.”
“Whatthehellwereyoudoinginmyapartment?”hebellows.Hehashisarmswrappedaroundhimself,histeethbaredlikeaferalanimal’s.
“Thatdoesnotproveanything.”Helenadarestocomeoverandstartstuffingthejewelrybackintothebag,asifsheplanstoreturnittoLukas.Shedoesn’tmeetoureyes.ShespeakssorapidlyIcanbarelyunderstandher.“Hehasaright.Grandmaraisedhim.Grandmamusthavegivenittohim.IfSylviehadthejewelry,shestoleit.”
“Stop!”IamscreamingasIgrabherbythewrist.Shefreezesandherentirebodygoesrigid.“Howdareyou?Sylvie’sdead!”Icryout,keening.Idumpoutallofthecontentsagain.Nomorehiding.“Why?Whatdidshedieforifhedidn’tkillher?Hehasaphotoofherattheexactspotwhereherbodywasfound.Theyhadasecretrelationship.Sylviewasinlovewithhim.”IhearMa’ssharpintakeofbreath.Ipulloutthescrapofpaperfrommypocket.“Lookatthis.Shewrote‘SylvieTan,’likeaschoolgirlinlove.GrandmameantthejewelryforSylvie.HeseducedSylvie,tookthegoldfromher,andthengotridofherandmadeitlooklikesheranawaywithit.”
EveryoneexceptforLukascrowdsaroundtoreadthelittlescrapwithSylvie’sprecisehandwritingonit.Evenwhenbesotted,shehadbeenclearandexact.
Noonespeaks.Theyarelikewaxfiguresinahorrorshow,transfixedandaghast.Lukasworkshisjawbuthetooisunabletospeak.
Iturntohim.“Youplayedtheloverandthenyoumurderedher.”Myvoiceisshakingwithragenow.Iwanttotearhimapart.
Hesaysinahoarsevoice,“Youareright.Ididkillher.”Herubshiseyeswithhisclenchedfists.Hisfaceishaggard.“IregretherdeathmorethanIcouldeversay.”Heconvulseswithragged,tearingsobs.Hemoans,“Sylvie…”
Helenabringsthebackofherhandtohertremblinglips.Thenshestepstohersonandwrapsherarmsaroundhimlikeshewouldasmallchild.
IamshudderingsohardIcanbarelystand,butIamresolute.“Nomoresilence.ThesesecretshavetakenSylviefromus.”
Willemhasstaggeredbackward,ashen,hiseyesfeverishandoverbright.Hishandisclaspedoverhismouthasiftostophimselffromconfessing.Hestares,notatme,butatmymother.
Tomygreatsurprise,itisMawhospeaks.Sheshakesherheadindenial,hershoulderscurled,herspinebentasiftoprotectherself.Hervoiceischokedwithemotionbutstrong.“Youarerightthatasecretkilledmydaughter.Butthesecretisnotwhatyouthink.”
Chapter29
Ma
Monday,May16
IneedtospeakChinesenowsoIcanexpressmyselftruly.Helena,wouldyoupleasetranslateforAmy?Imustchopnailsandseverirontogettotheheartofthematter.
Thiswasmyfault.Ihavewrongedallofyouinthisroom.Butheaven’snetiswideandnonecanescapeitsmesh.Itooampunished.
Pa,Iputthegreenhatofcuckoldryuponyourhead,althoughyoudidnotdeserveit.WhenImarriedyou,Iwasalreadypregnantwithanotherman’schild.Ididnotknowforcertainatthetimebuttherewasnoexcuse.Icanonlyofferanexplanation.
IgrewupknowingIwouldnotbeallowedtochoosewhomIshouldmarry.Ourfamilieswerefriendsandwewerepromisedtoeachotherfromwhenwewerelittle.IwasbetrothedtoPabutIwasinlovewithWillem.Iknowhowitistodesirethatwhichyoudonothave.
Ididnotdaretospeakuntilitwastoolate.Bythen,youhadcomeback,Helena,withyoursophisticatedforeignways,theopenbeckoningroadbehindyoureverymove.YoucouldofferWillemfreedom,wealth,andyourwholeheart.Ilovedyoutoo,Pa,andthatwaswhyIwassoconflictedwithmyaffectionsdivided.
Butthen,HelenaandWillemmarried.TheyweretoleavetogetherandWillemandIhadcastlongingglancesateachotherforyears.Ifoneoftenwalksbytheriverside,one’sshoeswilleventuallygetwet.WillemandItookourlastchancetobetogether.Ourheartbloodroseinatidalwave.Wedestroyedourcauldronsandsankourboats.Wewereleavingforseparatecountries,differentlives,andwouldneverseeeachotheragain,sowethought.
PaandImarriedalmostimmediatelyafterwardandthenwetooleftChina.ThetwoofyoumovedtoHolland,andweheadedfortheBeautifulCountry.Ididnotexpecttogetthebigstomach.
Soonafterthat,SnowJasminewasborn.Pa,Iknowthatafterherbirth,youslowlygrewtosuspect.IthoughtatfirstshecouldbelongtoeitherofyouandsoIwatchedherlikeahawk.Thatwasbarrengroundforamother’slove.Iscrutinizedhereverymoment,wonderingifshewouldbetraymysinbyagesture,amark,aword.Butsoon,Iunderstoodwhoherfatherwas.
Andyes,Helena,whenthechancecametosendhertoyouasababy,Ididitformanyreasons.Wecouldbarelyaffordtokeepher.ShecriedinthehotNewYorksummers.Iwasafraidforhersafetyandmine.Iknewthatyou,Helena,couldofferherandmymotherabetterhomethanIcould.ButIalsodiditsoherbiologicalfathercouldknowhisdaughter.
Thetruthis,whenIflewtoHollandwithSnowJasmine,IdidnotknowifIcametoleavemybabyortotakethetreasureandmygirlbackhomewithme.Iwasjealousofyou,Helena,withyourlargehouse,finehusband,andmyownmothertocareforyourchild,andnow,Iwouldgiveyoumydaughtertoo?ThejewelryhadbelongedtomefromthemomentImarriedPa.ThatwaswhyGrandmacouldnotgiveittoanyoneelse.Aswastradition,itwasherweddingpresenttome,butIfelttooguiltytoacceptitbecauseofwhatIhaddone.Paneverknewaboutit.Itwasformetokeepformyself,somethingamothercouldpassontoherdaughter,somethingawomancouldusetosaveherselfintimesofdireneed.IaskedGrandmatotakecareofitforme.
WhenIcametoleaveSnowJasminehere,Iatebitterness.Itwascommonforourchildrentoberaisedbytheirgrandmothers.ManyofourfriendsintheBeautifulCountryhadsenttheirbabiestolivewiththeirrelativesintheCentralKingdomsotheirkidscouldlearntheoldwaysandlanguage.ButGrandmacouldseehowitmademecoughupbloodtothinkofleavingmychildbehind.Shesaidtome,“Mydaughter,youhavebroughtwithyoutheextremedangerofamountainofbladesandaseaoffire.Wemustdispelthecloudsandseethesunagain.Sellthejewelry.Keepyourchildandleavethisplace,andthisman.”
Ihadthegoldinmyluggage,readytotellyou,Helena,thatIhadchangedmymind.Ifeltnewcourageandhope.Itmusthaveshowninmydemeanor,andWillem,whowasalwayswatchingme,guessedthetruth.Iwasstayinghereinyourhouseinastateofmutualhostility,bothofuswithswordsdrawnandbowsbent,andyouneverlethimormeoutofyoursight.ButonedayyouwerebothworkingattherestaurantandWillemtoldyoutherewasanemergencyandthathehadtoconsultwithyouraccountant.Hecircledhomeandspoketomeinstead.HehadseenSnowJasmine’sbirthmark.Heknewshewashis.Hebeggedmetoleavehisdaughterwithhim,ifonlyforayearortwo.
Icouldnotdenyhim.Theburdenofshameandobligationwastoogreat.Istakedallononethrow.MyMaknewthenthatIwouldnotacceptthetreasureuntilshewasdeadandthatSnowJasminewouldhavetobetheonetoputitintomyhands.Butafireatthecitygatesisalsoadisastertothefishinthepond,andthatdecisionclaimedmanyinnocentvictims,theworstofallmySnowJasmine,whohadalwaysbeenaslovelyandpureasacraneinaflockofchickens.
Makenomistake,Iamthetruevillainofthisstory.
Chapter30
Sylvie
Friday,April29
Then,finally,hewaskissingmeagain.Iwasafloatwithloveandjoy.Hishandstuggedgentlyonmyhairtotiltmyheadback,andIfelthisroughstubbleatthesensitiveskinofmythroat.Afloodofheatwashedoverme.Dizzywithdesire,Ibracedonehandagainstthewallforbalance.Myfingersstrucktheridgeofsomething,andthenIwasblindedbywhite.
“Oh,Iamsosorry,Ihitthelightswitchbyaccident!”Igaspedandraisedahandtomyflushedcheek.“HaveIruinedyourwork?”
Hegavemealong,slowsmile,blinkinginthesuddenbrightness.Hebentdownandwhispered,“Donotworry.Ihadalreadyfinished.”Thenhesweptmyhairbackwithhisthumbandplantedadeliberatekissbehindmyear.Ishivered,closingmyeyes.“Weshouldmovethisupstairs—”Hebrokeoff.
“Whatiswrong?”Ipeekedathimthroughmylashes.
Hewasstaringatmyear,hiseyeswide.“Howlonghaveyouhadthatmark?”
WasIdeformed?Didhenotwantmeanymore?Iself-consciouslyrubbedthebirthmark.“SinceIwasborn.Why?”
Hismouthwasslack.Heliftedbothhandsfrommybodyandheldthemsuspendedintheair.“Becausemyfatherhasthesameone.”
“What?”Ifurrowedmybrows.Icouldnotunderstandit.Whatwastheproblem,wewererelatives,right?Ohwait,Helenawasmycousin,notWillem.Willemhadmarriedintoherfamily.HowcouldIberelatedtoWillem?Ridiculous.“Itmustbeacoincidence.”
Lukasheldhisbodyslantedawayfrommine.Heshuffledbackwardonhisfeet.“Itexplainseverything,doyounotsee?WhyeveryonealwaysthinksyouandPalookalike,howbrilliantyoubothare.Whyhealwayslovedyousomuch.”
Irubbedahandacrossmyface.Ifeltstupid.NormallyIwasthecleverone,figuringoutthekillerinmovieslongbeforeeveryoneelse.ItwaslikemybrainhadbeenpackedincottonandIcouldnotgetthegearstoturn.
Atmysilence,heplacedhisfistagainsthismouthasifhecouldnotbeartosaythewords.“Thatiswhymymotheralwayshatedyou.”Hisvoicebroke.“Becauseyouarehischild.”
Willem’sdaughter?Theairwasknockedfrommylungs.WasIHelena’sdaughter,then?Whywouldshehateme?ButIhadbeenbornintheUnitedStates.Ihadabirthcertificate.BorntoMa.Wait.No.MaandWillem.Itcouldnotbe.Lukaswasnotmydistantcousin.Hewasmyhalfbrother.
Amangledcryfilledtheroom,likesomepitifulanimalwasbeingslaughtered.Itwascomingfrommythroat.Everythingwasblurry.“No!”Ipoundedmyfistsagainsthischestasheheldmywristsinhishands.
IfoughtagainsthimuntilIcollapsed,sobbing,againsthischest.HeheldmetohimforalongtimeuntilIcouldbreatheagain.
Nowhetookmyhandinhisandbroughtittohislipsforasoftkissagainstmyknuckles.“Thisdoesnotchangeanything.”
Ipulleditawayandtuckeditbehindmyback.Iwipedmyface,andmovedasidesoIcouldlookathim.“Howcanitnot?”
Aflushstainedhischeeksandhecouldnotmeetmyeyes.“Nooneknows.Wedonothavetotellanyone.”Hisvoiceseemedtocomefromacrossagreatdistance.“Mymothermaysuspectbutshewillneversayanything,andmypaandyourmahavekeptitasecretalltheseyears.”Hespokerapidly,tryingtoconvincehimself.
Ireachedouttotouchhissilkyhair.“Lukas.Youaretheonegoodthinginmylife.Myonlyhope.Iwillnotdragyoudownwithme.”
Hecradledmyfacebetweenhispalms.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youfinallylearnedtospeakup.Iwillnotburyyouinsecretsagain.”
“Sylvie.”Hislipspartedandhebentdown.Iturnedsohiskisslandedonmycheek.
“Look,thisissuchamess.”Iforcedmyvoicetosoundrational,thoughitstilltrembled.Igavehimawansmile.Ihadtoprotecthimfromme.“Neitherofuscanthinkclearlyrightnow.Shallwegotosleepandtalkinthemorning?”
“Doyouknowitforsure?”Hepeeredatmeintently,stillsoconcernedforme,neverthinkingofhimself.Hetookmebytheshoulders.“Areyouallright?”
Itookadeepbreathandshookmyhair,straightenedmyspine.“Yes.Donotworry,Iamfine.Iamtiredandoverwhelmed,thatisall.Ionlyneedsometimealonetothinkandrest.Canyoupleasegivethattome?”
Henodded.“Ofcourse,Iwillgiveyouanythingyouwant,Sylvie.”
“Wewilltalklater,Ipromise,”Ilied.Itookastepbackashishandsreluctantlyreleasedtheirgrip.
Istrodetowardthedoorbutcouldnotresistonelastpeekathim.Hewassohandsomeandvulnerablestandingtherebeneaththestarklighting,staringaftermewithhisheartinhiseyes.
Heswallowed,asifhecouldbarelyformthewords,andasked,painfully,“Pleasejusttellmeonething.Doyouloveme?”
Atthat,Ibrokeandrushedbackintohisarms.Iheldhimtight.“Forever.”
Mylifelinehadbeencut.FromthemomentIunderstood,IknewwhatIhadtodo—thelong,slowgrindofthepastfewmonths,Jim,mywork,Grandma,andnowLukas.Itwasenough.Somethinginstinctiveandbiologicaltookover.HehadbeenmylasthopeandapartofmehaddecidedlongagothatifIlostthisfinalgamble,thegamewasover.
IscribbledanoteforAmy,Ma,andPa.Iwasbeingselfishyetagain.Ihesitatedamomentbeforesigningit,thendecidedtousemyrealname.IslidthenoteandthegiftsIhadboughtfortheminVeniceintothevelvetbagthatheldGrandma’sjewelry.
IwaiteduntilitwaslateandLukashadturnedouthislights—andtoldmyself,Betteraclearbreakthananeternaldesireforsomeoneyoucouldneverhave,someoneyounevershouldhavedesiredinthefirstplace.Icouldnotbeartolivewantingandneedinghim,towatchashemovedon,marriedsomeoneelse.NotallofuswerelikeAmy,madeforwarmth,love,happiness
Wheneverythingwasquiet,Icreptacrossthelawn.Thenightwasbitterandstill,thewaningmoonwaitingforthedarknesstooverwhelmitcompletely.Iopenedhisdoor,heldthejewelrybagagainstmycheekforamoment,andthenremovedmycelloandhidthetreasureinsidetheemptycase.IwishedIcouldtiptoeupstairsandkisshimonelasttime.
TheyhadalwayssaidIwasdestinedtodiebywater.
IplacedeverythingthatbelongedtomeinsidethesmallrentalcaranddroveawayasquietlyasIcould.IlookedintherearviewmirrorasLukas’sapartmentdisappearedinthedistance.Deathdidnotrecognizesweetchildren.Weallhadtogo,whetherwehadbeengoodornot.Theliesthathadsustainedme:ifIdideverythingright,Icouldearnlove;ifIwasperfectenough,Iwouldcheatdeath.Mypainfultruth:lovewouldalwaysleaveme;Ididnotdeservetobeloved.Evenadonkeydidnotstumbleoverthesamestonetwice.
Allofmydesignerthings,buyingintothemyththatifyouownedtherightitems,youwouldbelong.Thatrespectandfriendshipandtherightskincolorcouldbepurchased.Ifyouwerebornadime,youwouldneverbecomeaquarter.WhenImetJim,itwaslikeIhadfinallyattainedthepromisedland.IhadmadeittotheforeignshoreIhadspentsolongattemptingtoreachandbeenallowedinside,onlytofinditbarren.
Thislifeofmine,givenawayasababy.Thatwasthebeginning.Andnow,Iwasattheend.
IparkedinthespotwhereLukasandIhadpicnickedonthebanksoftheAmsterdam-RhineCanal.Therewereafewscatteredfarmhousesinthedistanceandalloftheirwindowsweredark.Ifinallyunderstoodeverything:Helena,Willem,Ma,Pa.Howfoolish,myhopeforMaandPatotrulyloveme.Willem,myfather,whotookfrommethemanIdesiredmost.
Iwastiredofwantingandchoosing.Whowetrulywereandourrationalselvesweretwodifferententities.ThelogicalpartofmeknewIdidnothavetodothis—butanswerstoquestionsoftheheartwereinaudibleandincomprehensible.Wecouldonlyfeelthem,likecurrentsswayingusfrombeneaththesurface,supportingusattheirwhim,untiltheydecidedtograbholdandpullusunder.
Itooktherosebudfrombetweenthepagesofthebookinmyhandbag.Ipressedittomylipsandinhaleditsfadedscent.WithLukas,IhadfeltlikeIwasfinallyhome.TheothermenwhohadcaredaboutmeonlylovedtheimageIprojectedforthem,likeafloatingheliumballoonboundtomywristbythemosttenuousofstrings.Lukashadbeendifferent.ButIwouldnotbelikeMa,hidinganessentialtruthformyentirelife.
Amy,Iwillnotbearoundtowatchoutforyou.Youmustlearntocareforyourself
Isatinthedarkwaitingasthesleepingpillstookeffect.Asitgrewmurkierandtheworldaroundmefadedintooblivion,Isteppedonthegas.TheheadlightscameonautomaticallyandIswitchedthemoff.Theicywaterwouldmakethingsquick.Istartedtofadeandwokemyselfup.Ididnotwanttobefoundhereonthegrass.Iwantedtodisappear,toreturntothegreatoblivionofthesea,toourtruehome,thelandoftheunlivingfromwhichwehadalloriginated.
Thecarlurched,pickedupspeed,launcheditselffromtheearth,andwasfree.
Chapter31
Amy
Monday,May16
WearesilentafterlisteningtoMa’sstory.Myheadspins.Ifeelnauseous.Icupmynoseandmouthinmyhandsandbreathedeeplytostopfrompassingout.WhenIrecoverenoughtolookaround,Pa’sfaceiswoodenandstreakedwithred,whetherfromembarrassmentoranger,Idonotknow.HelenaisblinkingbacktearsandWillemstaresatthefloor.IslowlyrealizethatIamtheonlyonewhoisutterlyastounded.Therestofthemalreadyknew.
“Howdidyoufindout?”IaskLukas,whoisstillbentover,grippingthebackofthechair.
Hewipeshisfacewithhissleeve,unabletoanswer,andtapshisear.
Thereisapause,andthenWillemtoucheshisownear.“Shehasthesamebirthmark.ThatishowIalwaysknewshewasmine.”
Helena’svoiceislowandchokedwithemotion.“Ihatedherforit.Iwantedtodespiseyoutoo,butIloveyoutoomuch.Therewasnotenoughroomforhate.Iamonlyafool.”Sheturnsherfaceaway.
Ma’shandfliestohermouthatHelena’srevelation.Shepressesherlipstogethertoholdbackhertears.“Ifyouknow,ifyouhateSylvie,whyyounotsendherhome?”
Helenaspeakswithherbacktous.“IwasafraidoflosingWillemandLukas.Theylovedhersomuch.Anddespitemyself,Ilovedhertoo.LikeIsaid,Iamanidiot.”
Willemwalksoverandtentativelyreststhepalmofonehandonherupperarm,asifhe’safraidofdrivingherfurtherawayfromhim.“IamsorrierthanIcaneversay.Iloveyou,Helena.Ihavealwaysbeenyours.”
Mastaresathimwithanguishandheartbreakinhereyes.Irealizeshehasbeeninlovewiththismanalltheseyears.ShesqueezeshereyesshutandIcanseeherdreamsdissolvebehindherlids.This,Inowunderstand,isthereasonWillemstaredatmeso,becauseIresembleMa.
Paclaspshishandstogetherinfrontofhisfacesohardhisknucklesturnwhite.Hisvoicewobbles,unusedtocarryingtheemotionalweightofhiswords.“Iknewwhatwasbetweenthetwoofyou.Ididnotunderstandyouhadalreadyactedonyourfeelingsforeachother,notuntilmuchlater.Butstill,IspoketoWillembeforeweeverleftChina.”
Ma’sheadsnapstowardhim.“What?”
Pahitshisforeheadwithhisfistedhandandcloseshiseyes.“Iwantedtogiveyouyourfreedom.Iwantedyoutobehappy.”
Herbreathingisshallow.She’shardlyabletospeak,andstaresathimasifseeinghimforthefirsttime.“Younevertellme.”
NowPalooksawayanddoesn’tanswer.
WillemglancesatHelena’sback,thenhardenshisface.“Irefused.Hedidnotwishtohurtyou.Thatiswhyhesaidnothing.IchoseHelena,allthoseyearsago.”
Slowly,Helenaturnsaround.Shestilldoesn’tmeethisgazebutletshimholdherbyhershoulders.Macloseshereyesandcollapsesagainstthecouch,asifshecannolongerholdherselfupright.Thenwithhereyesstillclosed,shereachesforPa’shandandgraspsitinbothofherown.Hedoesnotholdhersbackbuthedoesnotpullawayeither.
IcatchWillem’sfurtive,painedlookatMaandknowthathemayhavechosenHelena,perhapsforhermoney,buthehasalwaysbeeninlovewithmymother.Inthis,Iamwiseenoughtoknowwhentokeepsilent.
Willemsays,hisvoicethick,“IonlyregretIneverheldSylvieaftersheknewshewasmydaughter.”
Paglaresathim.“Shewasmydaughter.”
Theireyesmeet,theirframesarerigid.Iamafraidtheywillcometoblows.
“Ours,”Isay.“Sylviebelongedtoallofus.”IstepovertoLukasandtouchhimonthearm.“IamsoembarrassedbytheaccusationsImade.”
Hetakesashudderingbreath.Hiseyesaredark,intense,filledwithanoceanofgrief.“Ishouldnothavekeptthetruthfromyou.Ishouldhavebeenkindertoyou,especiallysinceIknowhowmuchyoumeanttoSylvie.ThetruthisthatIhavealwaysbeenjealousofyou.”
Iamtakenaback.Noonehaseverenviedme.“What?Why?”
Hesayssimply,“Youtookmyplace.”Ihearinthosewordshowmuchhelovedher,howmuchhemissedherwhensheleft,andhowmuchhewilllongforhertherestofhislife.
“Therewasenoughroomforallofus.”Mybreathhitches.Irubmytempleswithmyfingers.“That’swhathersignaturemeant.Shewasn’tpretendingtobemarriedtoyou.Shewastryingtotellushertruename:SylvieTan.”
Istretchoutmyarms.Hestepsintothemandweholdeachotherforalongtime
Ashepullsaway,hesays,“Ineverintendedtokeepthejewelry.Shehiditinmyapartmentthatlastnight.Iwasgoingtogiveittoyourmabeforeyouallleft.Ididnotwantanyproblems.”Heglancesathismother.“IonlyrippedoffhersignaturebecauseIwasafraidofwhatwouldhappenifoursecretwasrevealed.Look,thenotewasstillinthebag.Isawitfalloutwhenyouemptiedthejewelryontothetable.”
Ipickuptheplasticbagwiththewrappeditems.“Isitinhere?”
HeclencheshisjawandIseeanguishovertakehisface.“No,IthinkthosearethepresentssheboughtforyouinVenice.”
WesearchthefloorandIfindthefoldedpieceofyellownotebookpaperbeneaththecoffeetable.WhenIflattenitout,thesignedscrapisaperfectmatch.
DearestMa,Pa,andAmy,Youarethetruetreasureofmyheart.Lovealways,SylvieTanChapter32
Ma
Monday,May16
IsaidtoHelena,“YouneverdeservedwhatIdidtoyou.Iwrongedyou.”
Helena’sfaceworkedandthenshesaid,“Icommittedevilaswell.IdidnottreatSnowJasmineasIshouldhave.IcouldonlyseeyouandWilleminherface.EverytimeIlookedather,thesamewoundreopened.”
Shelefttheroomandreturnedwithahomemaderagdollinherhands.Helena’swansmilenolongercontainedaknife.“ThiswasSylvie’s.ShenameditTasha.GrandmaandSylviewouldhavewantedyoutohaveit.”
“Thankyou,Helena.”Iturnedtoherhusband,whowatchedmewithhisheartlaidopeninhiseyes,ashealwayshad.“Goodbye,Willem.”
Forsomanyyears,Ihadlovedsomeonewhodidnotexist.IwrongedPainmorewaysthanone.Apartofmyhearthadneverbeenaccessibletohim,obsessedwiththeuselessfantasyofayounggirl.IhadignoredthemanwithwhomIhadenjoyedthesweetandundergonesufferingforalltheseyears.
IstoodbesidePaandtookhisarminmine.DespiteeverythingIhaddonetohim,hegavemeasmallsmile.
Epilogue
Amy
Sunday,December25
ThisisourfirstChristmassinceSylviepassedeightmonthsago.Wecelebrateatourapartment.ItisstrangethataChristianholidayactsasabookmarkforabunchofBuddhists.Forus,it’sanadoptedholiday,likeapairofshoesthatoncebelongedtosomeoneelse.Itgrowsmorecomfortablewithwearuntilitbecomesoursaswell.WeusedtothinkitwasSylviewhopushedthetraditiononourfamily,butnowthatshe’sgone,werealizewearestilldrawntoit.Thisyear,thereisnoburnedpotroastorWesterncutlery.NoJimeither;he’squithisjobanddisappeared.Nooneknowswhy.WesawhimforthelasttimeatSylvie’smemorialservice.Mawentuptohimafterwardandsaid,“Ah-Jim,yougoodhusbandforSylvie.Thankyou,youtakecareofher.”HepressedhischeektoMa’sandthenhurriedaway.Herformercompanyalsosentalargebouquetofflowers.
MaandIhavecookedafullChinesemealandZach,thecuteguyfromthemusicstore,hasbroughttraditionaldessertshemadehimself—crispygingerbreadmen,frostedChristmastreecookies,adarkchocolatepieandaflakeypumpkinone.He’sagradstudentatNYUinmusicandweareslowlygettingtoknoweachother.I’vere-enrolledatCUNYformyteachingcredentialandIloveit.I’mstudyingwithadeterminationandfocusI’veneverhadbefore.
Afterdinner,ZachplayshisguitarwhileIsingChristmascarols.Wonderofwonders,MaandPasittogetheronourcouchholdinghands.Ihaveoverheardtheirlongwhisperedconversationsthesepastmonths.Hegazesdownatherhairwithagentleexpression.Shetooshimmerswithacontentmentthatoverliesourever-presentgrief.Somewoundswillhealwhileotherswillneverfullyclose.Ididnothavethechancetopracticegrief—nopetsthatdied,andIneverknewmygrandparents.Thereshouldbesmallerwoundstotheheartbeforethekillingblowisstruck,andyetIhavesurvived.
WeareallthinkingofSylvie.ShesmilesdownuponusfromherphotonexttoGrandma’sinthealtar.Lukassentusthispictureofher.Herdoll,Tasha,istuckedbesideit.ItouchthecopyofTimeonourcoffeetablethatcontainsnewsofhisphotoexhibition.IknowthereareseveralimagesofSylvieinit,butIcannotbeartoseethem.ThelastIheard,hehasbeenworkingandtravelingnonstop.
ItturnsouttheDutchpolicewererightallalong.Itwassuicide.Oh,Sylvie,ifonlyyouhadallowedyourselftoshareyourburdenswithme,ormaybeifIhadgonetotheNetherlandswhenyouinvitedme.Mylovewouldhavekeptyousafe.Therecouldhavebeen,thereshouldhavebeenanotherway.Ienvision,soclearlyithurtsmyeyeslikedazzlingsunshine,anotherfuturewithajoyful,thrivingSylvie.Thevacuumcausedbyherabsencewillhauntusforever.HowmyknowledgeofSylvie,ofMa,ofmyselfhaschanged.Wehadallbeenhiddenbehindthecurtainoflanguageandculture:fromeachother,fromourselves.IhavelearnedthatthoughthecurtainsintheNetherlandsarealwaysopen,thereismuchthatcanbeconcealedinbroaddaylight.
AsSylvietoldmeonce,weareallultimatelyunreliablestorytellersofourownlives,whetherwewishitsoornot,whetherweshareacommonlanguageornot.Theonlyreliablenarratorsaretobefoundinbooks.MuchofSylviewashiddenfromme,buttheloyal,generoussisterIlovedwasalsotrue—allfacetsofthesamediamond:mysister,thewomanwithoutacountry.Whocouldshehavebeenifshehadn’tbeenbornintosuchaburdenedexistence?NowthegiftsshebroughtbackfromVeniceareprecioustous:awatch,amask,andaknife.
Earliertoday,Magavemeagiftaswell.WehaveneverindulgedinthiscustomatChristmas.EvenbeforeIopenedit,IcouldtellfromthewornredsilkenvelopethatitwaspartofGrandma’sinheritance.InsideIfoundagoldnecklacewithacarppendantsetwithvividjade,wroughtsomasterfullythatthefishseemedtocomealive.Matoldmethatwhilenothingcanreplacethatwhichislost,emptinesscreatesroomfornewgrowth.IclutchthewarmjadeagainstmyskinandrecallthemythMatolduswhenwewerelittle:thetenaciouscarpswimsagainstthecurrentsuntilshemanagestoleapoverthedragongateandturnintoadragonherself.
IwonderwhatwouldhavehappenedifSylviehadchosentolive.Thetruthis,itisimpossibletohidefromyourself.Anothertruth:itispossibletofindyourselfanywhere.IpullbackthecurtainsastheDutchdo,andletourhappinessandsorrowstreamoutintothedarknight.
From:LukasTanTo:SylvieLeeSent:Saturday,April30Subject:CallmeSylvie,Icannotspeakstraightthatwhichisbentbutpleasegivemebutachance.Whywillyounotansweryourmobile?Imusthaverungyouahundredtimes.Mymotherisfuriousthatyouleftwithoutsayinggoodbye.YoumustbeonyourflightbacktoNewYorkbynow.Icanimaginehowyoumustfeelaboutthesituation.Iknowwhatliesinmyheartandhopeyoursisalsounchanged.Wemustleaveyesterdaybehindus.Iwilldoanythingtomakethingsright.Canwetalk?Please,Sylvie.IknowyoudonotwanttohearthesewordsbutIloveyou.Iwillalwaysloveyou.LukasAcknowledgments
First,Iwouldliketothankmylatebrother,KwanS.Kwok,whowastheinspirationbehindthisnovel.Hewasnotonlybrilliantbutalsokindandgenerous.FromtheChinatownclothingfactorywhereweworkedaschildrentotheIvyLeague,Kwanledthewayformeuntilhediedinatragicplanecrash.Imisshimeverydayandwillalwaysbegratefultohim.
I’malsogratefultomyreadersaroundtheworldfortheirkindnessandsupport.Thankyousomuchforreading.Tothosewhohavereachedouttome,itmeanstheworldtomewhenyoushareyourpersonalstorieswithmeandletmeknowwhatyouthinkofmywork.I’malsoextremelythankfultoalloftheorganizations,libraries,booksellers,highschools,colleges,anduniversitiesinboththeU.S.andabroadthathavestoodbehindmeandmywork.You’vemadethedreamsofanimmigrantgirlfromHongKongcometrue.
Myagent,SuzanneGluckofWilliamMorrisEndeavorEntertainment,hasbeenwithmefromtheverybeginningofmycareerandhasguidedmystepswithwisdom,courage,andfierceintelligence.IhavethepleasureandprivilegeofhavingJessicaWilliamsofWilliamMorrowasmyeditor.Jessica’stremendousemotionalandintellectualinsightbroughtoutthebestinthisnovel.SpecialthankstotherestofmyteamatWME,especiallyTracyFisherandherforeignrightsteam,andtoallofmyforeignpublishers.
I’mindebtedtothewonderfulpeopleatWilliamMorrowandHarperCollins:ourgreatpublisher,LiateStehlik;LaurenTruskowski,RyanCury,KellyRudolph,andtherestoftheamazingpublicityandmarketingdepartments;marvelouscopyeditorLauraCherkas;theproductiondepartment;theartdepartment;theentirehardcover,paperback,anddigitalsalesforces,whoserveonthefrontlines;andeveryoneelsewhodidanincrediblejobbringingthisbookoutintotheworld.
Myimmensegratitudetothepeoplewhowerewillingtosharetheirexperiencesandexpertisewithme:EsthervanNeerbosofSignizoekhonden,MiekeZinn,IngeGrandia,InoBenschop,FrederikeMaus,AlexanderdeBlaeij,NataschaRaaphorst,ShihHuiLiong,AgnesLee,C.V.Petersen,KelliMarcus,EmilyNolan,andDinaNayeri.Iaskedyousomanycrazyquestionsandyouhadanswerstoallofthem.Youtoldmeaboutsearchingforabodyinthewater,flyinganairplane,Sylvie’sdollTasha,palliativecare,thehierarchywithinamanagementconsultingfirm,runningwithacelloonyourback,homophobia,designershoes,anti-SemitisminEurope,legaleuthanasia,darkroomphotography,beinganAsianabroad,andmuch,muchmore.Youweremyinspirationandmyknowledgebase—thankyoufromthebottomofmyheart.Anyerrorsaremyown.
Myawesomeearlyreadersgavemethecouragetocontinue:KatrinaMiddelburg-Creswell,SariWilson,AlexKahn,andJuliaPhillips.WhatwouldIdowithoutyou?IalsoneedtothankallofthegreatfolksattheRagdaleFoundationforprovidingtheresidencywherethisnovelwasborn,andespeciallyHannahJudyGretzandhereponymousfellowship.Ahugethank-youtofellowwritersandpublishingveteransforyourinvaluablesupportandadvice:HelenSchulman,JulieOtsuka,ScottTurow,CelesteNg,CherylTan,SarahMcCoy,AmyHillHearth,CarolineLeavitt,and,mostespecially,thebrilliantandgenerousMarilynDucksworth,whoseguidinglighthasalwaysilluminatedmycareer.
Iamsothankfultomydearfriends,whohavesomehowstuckwithmethroughallofthemoaningandgroaning:JulieVoshell,StuartShapiro,SuzanneDemitrioCampbell,RobWu,StephanieandJonathanKastin,PaulaSchasberger,JudithSchasberger,theBeckfamily,ChimeneandPeterLam,CarinGerzon-Koning,JulesGerzon,LaurentLédé,MetavanderWal,Jan-PaulMiddelburg,NatasjaMoenen,andDorisSeibert.Yourlaughterandencouragementkeepmegoing.
AllofmylovetotheKwokandKluwerfamilies,especiallyBettyandGerard,andtomybrothersJoe(Chow),York,andChoi.Andfinally,mydeepestloveandgratitudetoErwin,Stefan,andMilan,whoputupwithnotonlymymonthsoftraveling,butalsothemonthswhenI’mathomewritingandthereforeburningallofourfood.
P.S.Kissestothecatsforbeingfurryandorange:Anibaba,Timoto,Sushi,andCouscous.
AbouttheAuthor
JEANKWOKistheNewYorkTimesandinternationalbestsellingauthorofGirlinTranslationandMamboinChinatown.Herworkhasbeenpublishedineighteencountriesandtaughtinuniversities,colleges,andhighschoolsacrosstheworld.Shehasbeenselectedfornumeroushonors,includingtheAmericanLibraryAssociationAlexAward,theChineseAmericanLibrariansAssociationBestBookAward,andtheSundayTimesEFGShortStoryAwardinternationalshortlist.Sheistrilingual,fluentinDutch,Chinese,andEnglish,andstudiedLatinforsevenyears.JeanimmigratedfromHongKongtoBrooklynwhenshewasfiveandworkedinaChinatownclothingfactoryformuchofherchildhood.Shereceivedherbachelor’sdegreefromHarvardandcompletedanMFAinfictionatColumbiaUniversity.ShecurrentlylivesintheNetherlands.
AlsobyJeanKwok
GirlinTranslation
MamboinChinatown
Copyright
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiouslyandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,organizations,orpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
SEARCHINGFORSYLVIELEE.Copyright?2019byJeanKwok.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.
CoverdesignbyPloySiripant
Hand-letteringbyJoelHolland
Coverphotograph?BenjaminVanDerSpek/EyeEm/GettyImages
FIRSTEDITION
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDatahasbeenappliedfor.
DigitalEditionJUNE2019ISBN978-0-06-283433-1
PrintISBN978-0-06-283430-0
AboutthePublisher
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TableofContents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Contents
Part1
Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6
Part2
Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11
Part3
Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16
Part4
Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22
Part5
Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
AlsobyJeanKwok
Copyright
AboutthePublisher