China Dog by Judy Fong Bates

Author:Judy Fong Bates [Bates, Judy Fong]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55199-163-4
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 2005-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

Sandra parked her car outside her brother’s restaurant, the Golden Gate. More than ten years ago, Glen and their father had purchased the restaurant from Bill Woo. Shortly after taking over, their father died of a sudden heart attack.

Sandra reached into the back seat and grabbed a bag filled with a barbecued duck and a strip of roast pork and a second bag filled with oranges. After getting out of the car, she took a deep breath and opened the door to the restaurant.

Everyone was laughing and talking, clustered around a table at the back of the dining room. Just behind them was a room divider decorated with a golden dragon and a phoenix. At one time it must have been striking, providing a focus for the room. But it now looked tired and shabby. Dustballs were lodged in the scales of the dragon and a layer of dust dulled the tail feathers of the phoenix. Christmas decorations were still dangling between the lights. Bill Woo had sold her brother a thriving business, but Glen had taken it for granted, and Sandra knew without even asking that business was poor.

Her older sister, “movie star” Marilyn, was the first one to notice her arrival. The three of them had been named after Hollywood celebrities: Glen, after Glen Ford; Marilyn, after Marilyn Monroe; and Sandra after Sandra Dee. But Marilyn was the only one to really live up to her namesake. Her voice was a husky, velvet purr, and her movements were studied and seductive, like a sex kitten.

“Here she is, the hoo sung, our Canadian-born,” Marilyn called out to everyone. “Sandra, you’re here at last. We’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Oh, the traffic was really heavy.”

Marilyn’s left eyebrow went up and she looked at her husband, Walter. Everyone knew Sandra was lying.

Sandra leaned over and gave her mother a hug. “Happy birthday, Mah.”

Then she walked into the kitchen. Glen was standing at the counter, his head down, slicing vegetables. His wife, May, was in front of the sink, washing a large pot of rice. Sandra handed Glen the bag of barbecued meats.

He looked up from his chopping. “Oh! Hi. Thanks, how much do I owe you?”

“No, no. It’s okay.” Sandra waved her hand and shook her head in protest.

“No, no, I should pay,” said Glen, facing down, still chopping.

“No. It’s okay,” Sandra insisted emphatically. As Glen started to reach for his wallet, Sandra walked into the dining room, muttering to herself. She hated these charades, always having to be alert, knowing when yes meant no and no meant yes. She glanced back and caught May’s twinkling eyes, a knowing smile on her face.

When Sandra returned to the dining room and looked at Marilyn and Walter and their three children and then at her mother, the vestiges of resolve evaporated, leaving her feeling short of breath and dry in the mouth. She helped to set the tables, then sat down to dinner with her family. The food was tasty, or so everyone said.

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