Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [199]
“Twenty … or if you haven’t got twenty, ten will do,” his father persisted.
“What for?”
Ah-Fat remained silent but his expression said it all. He threw down the cigarette he had just lit and ground it under his feet. He hawked and spat angrily: “If your old dad asks to borrow a bit of cash, do you have to have a signed-and-sealed loan agreement?”
“I sent a dollar letter back home just yesterday,” said Kam Ho, pulling a five-dollar bill out of his pocket. Ah-Fat took the note, which was moist from Kam Ho’s sweaty palm.
“Dad, we’ve never been gamblers, the odds are stacked against us. And at your age, you really shouldn’t be wasting money like this.”
Blood rushed to Ah-Fat’s face. He was tempted to screw up the note and fling it back into his son’s face. But then he remembered Gold Mountain Cloud’s jade bracelet, so flawless it glowed like a candle flame at night. This five-dollar bill, plus the five which he had saved himself, would ensure that she would not need to part with it. At least, not today.
He gritted his teeth and thrust the note into his pocket.
From then on, Ah-Fat would occasionally borrow money from Kam Ho. If not twenty, then ten. If not ten, then five. If Kam Ho could not spare him five, then he would take three or even one dollar … or even a few cents. Finally the day came when Kam Ho refused to give him anything. “There’s my son Yiu Kei’s one-month-old celebration and then there’s Mum’s birthday to think of. The family needs more guns. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know. Dad, when was the last time you sent a dollar letter home? Who’s been supporting the family all this time? Why are you taking food out of the mouths of your wife and grandchild for gambling?”
Ah-Fat stiffened and the veins on his forehead bulged. With an enormous effort, he swallowed back his anger.
“Next year. Next year, I’ll sell the café and go back home. I’ve been making a note of every cent I borrow from you and you’ll get it back with interest when I sell up,” he muttered.
Kam Ho shouted with laughter. “Your café? It loses money every month. You keep the food so long the sausage is crawling with maggots. No one’s going to buy the café off you even if you pay them to take it off your hands!”
Ah-Fat’s face turned livid purple and he swallowed back hard words that felt like grit in his gullet. His youngest son, whom he had always slighted, called the shots now—this was something he had never expected. Kam Shan, whose leg had never properly healed, could not support himself, and the burden of supporting the families in Canada and China lay on the shoulders of just two people—Kam Ho and Cat Eyes.
It had taken Ah-Fat all these years to learn two unpalatable facts: one, that the one who sent home the dollar letters could afford to talk loud; two, that the one who begged could not stand tall. Often he was on the point of explaining to Kam Ho what he was really borrowing money for, but when it came to it, he just could not get the words out. They went round and round in his head but he could never find the way to say what he wanted to say. It somehow seemed easier to allow Kam Ho to get the wrong end of the stick.
And so he kept silent.
Just you wait, he thought. Your old dad’s not got much longer to live. And if I can’t earn back my self-respect and go home with my head held high, then I’ll never go back, he thought fiercely to himself.
Year twenty-five of the Republic (1936)
Vancouver, British Columbia
As Jenny looked at her face in the hand mirror, she grew more and more despondent. Her face was too flat, her eyes too far apart and small at that, so she always looked half-asleep. Her cheeks were covered in freckles, but that was not the worst of it. She had none of the curves that most of her peers were developing. She was still as flat as a board.
There were three more weeks before the high school prom. Her mother had already booked the hairdresser and ordered her evening dress, and six months ago