Mambo in Chinatown (4 page)

Godmother said, “Of course I do. Are you joining us today?”

I said, “Would that be all right? It’s only this one time. Zan can’t make it to your other classes at the Tai Chi Association or Senior Citizens Center.”

“Any friend of yours is welcome. I wish you could help me with those other classes too, Charlie,” Godmother said as we headed down the stairs. She turned to Zan. “She is my best student.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” I said. “I’ve just been doing it for so long.”

“Are you coming to tai chi in the park this Sunday?” Godmother always asked me this.

“I would like to but it’s too early for me.”

“When are you going to stop that dishwasher job? It keeps you
up until all hours. ‘If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.’”

“Is that from a Hallmark card?”

“Who? No, it’s Lao Tzu.”

I glanced at Zan, signaling her to be quiet. “Actually, I’m starting a new job on Monday. As a receptionist. In computers.” I couldn’t risk Godmother telling Pa the truth.

Godmother stopped walking so abruptly, I almost tripped. “Really.” She fumbled in her purse until she found a new red envelope. “I always keep a couple in here, in case I run into one of my grandchildren.” She took out two wrinkled five-dollar bills from her wallet, folded them carefully and put them in the envelope.

“Oh no, Godmother, it’s not necessary.” I knew how little she had. She was well respected but she taught most of her classes, including the one we were going to, for free. Most positions at the Yuan Benevolent Association were volunteer.

She pressed the red envelope in my hand. “For good fortune.”

“Are you sure?”

“You must take it or it will be bad luck.”

“Thank you.” I bent over and kissed her cheek. I thought about what the witch had said. “The Vision told me my new job will amount to nothing.”

“Hush! Don’t repeat the words of that old potato.”

Zan and I laughed. It was well known that Godmother and the Vision had an ongoing feud, due to some insult in their youth everyone else had forgotten.

“Another Lao Tzu quote for you: ‘When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.’”

“I hope you’re right.”

We climbed up the stairs to the Yuan Benevolent Association. The Benevolent Associations had been formed originally to help
families abroad. This one occupied the third floor of a building, and was a place where all members with the Yuan surname could gather and gossip. There was often free tea and food, plus social events like mahjong evenings and these tai chi classes. I wasn’t allowed to be a full member but they tolerated me because my maternal grandmother had been a Yuan before her marriage. After they wed, girls were no longer considered an official part of the family.

Godmother Yuan tapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll never understand why you don’t join the Wong Benevolent Association. They’re so powerful, many times the size of ours. They just helped that Wong girl from Hong Kong pay her way through college.”

I’d said it before. “I’m the wrong kind of Wong, remember? I’m a northern Wong. The Wong Benevolent Association belongs to the southern Wongs. Their name is even written with a different character. Anyway, I don’t think I’m cut out for college.”

“Nonsense. ‘A genius always presents himself as a fool.’”

“Umm, thanks, Godmother. I think.”

Zan was grinning.

Godmother opened the door and we entered a large room with windows that faced the street on one end. We could hear the constant rumble of traffic as the ceiling fans whirred. A few older ladies were already moving the tables and chairs out of the way. Some chairs were set up at the side of the room for qigong work. At the other end was the platform with a statue of the Yuan ancestor on what we called the “god table.” Godmother went to light incense and pay her respects to her ancestor. The smell of roast meat and rice drifted into the room from the restaurants on the street. More people trailed in.

Every time I came to tai chi class I thought of Ma, who had started me on it so young. She believed it was important for balance and health. As with acupuncture and other forms of healing, one
of tai chi’s goals was to mend and stimulate the circulation of qi throughout the body. The spiraling, circular movements brought the person back into mental and physical balance. As it was both a martial art and a form of meditation, it unified body and soul. I always enjoyed the tai chi classes because I felt centered afterward, and it was one of the few times when I felt at home in my body. I’d tried bringing Lisa too, but she didn’t like it.

Godmother nodded at me to begin the class. I led Zan to a spot near the front where she could see the lesson, yet wouldn’t feel too exposed. I felt comfortable in my large T-shirt and loose pants. I announced that class was about to begin, and when everyone had lined up, Godmother walked to the Yuan ancestor’s statue. The students all turned to face the statue as well. She bowed and we followed.

Then the students turned back to me as I started the class. I always did the warming up and cooling down for Godmother. That gave her the chance to walk around the room, “smiling from the heart” at the students, as she put it.

“Stand upright and relax from head to toe. Find your center.” I bent my knees and allowed my arms to float upward, then down again. We stretched our spines, then hips, knees and feet, turning the legs inward and outward. I enjoyed teaching, even in this mild way.

After the warming up, I led the students into a few dynamic exercises like Lifting the Sky, where we stretched our linked hands toward the ceiling, to get their energy flowing. I was surprised to see Zan having trouble with many of the exercises, especially since she was usually so coordinated. Of course she was new at this. Then Godmother came to the front of the class and took over. She reviewed the tai chi movements we’d done last week, then moved on to a few new ones. I stood next to Zan and followed along, losing myself in the flowing movements.

After that, the class split into two groups. The most advanced students went with Godmother to do qigong, while I helped the rest in push-hands training and tai chi sword and fan.

Godmother caught my eye and sent me a questioning look, and as always, I shook my head. Godmother always said, “External strength is supported by internal power,” meaning that learning tai chi with qigong was ideal, but I didn’t dare explore qigong any further. Qigong was becoming aware of our internal life energy, allowing it to flow throughout our bodies for healing. An essential part was feeling all your emotions and letting them go. When I thought of Ma’s death and my disappointing life, I knew I wasn’t ready for that.

Zan was breathing hard. “It looks very easy when you do it. I feel so clumsy.”

“It just takes time to learn because you need to control all these muscles in order to make it smooth.” I saw two men in their fifties starting to become aggressive with their push-hands exercise. “Come on, I have to break that up.”

I went over to the students and separated them. I stepped in for one of them and connected to the other man’s wrists with mine. “Push-hands is not about shoving each other.” I began to move our linked arms in a circular direction. “We are questioning and answering each other. Meet the incoming force with softness, move with it, then redirect it.” I stepped back and allowed them to try it again. Both men bowed to me before resuming the exercise.

Zan was staring at Godmother’s group. “What in the world are they doing?”

At the beginning, they’d sat in a circle, discussing meridians and healing, but now they were standing with their eyes closed, their limbs twitching and swaying. Godmother had her hand spread, fingers vibrating, over one woman’s head and was directing the
woman’s movements like a puppeteer, though not actually touching her at all.

“Flowing Breeze, Swaying Willows,” I said. “It’s pure energy flow.”

One man started to convulse, then began to wail, a high animal sound. Another woman shook her head violently from side to side. None of the other students seemed to notice.

“That’s the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Zan said.

“I know. That’s why I’m not really such a good tai chi student. I don’t want to develop my qigong.”

“I’m with you. Why are they doing that?”

“They’re cleansing the negative energy from their bodies. They’re not controlling it, it’s flowing through them. When there’s a blockage, it needs to be cleared from the body. It restores the natural balance.”

I thought of the few times Godmother had tried with me. I’d felt such a rush of grief and disappointment in myself, I’d had to stop. If I let my fear take over, there’d be no way I’d make it back to that dance studio on Monday.

O
n Sunday, Pa, Lisa and I went to temple to pray that my new job would be successful. The monks often put beautiful accessories on the golden idol of Kuan Yin, goddess of compassion, and today she had been clothed with a blue lace shawl. Kneeling in front of her, I’d whispered, “Please let me do it right this time.”

Since I didn’t have to be at the studio until the early afternoon, I had the mornings free.

“Maybe we could start reading
Pilgrim’s Progress
in the mornings now,” I said to Lisa.

“Umm, why don’t we wait and see how it goes with your new job? You’ll be so busy for a while. Maybe we should take a break with the reading.”

Sometimes I wasn’t sure that Lisa wanted to improve her mind. She saw my look and said, “Just a temporary one, Charlie.”

Lisa hugged me tightly before she left for Uncle’s office. “You’ll be great. You’re so much better than you think you are.”

Then Pa had stuck a bobby pin with a small red rose on it in my hair. “Red always brings good luck,” he said. “And you shouldn’t leave your hair just free like that. It’s too wild.” It was also because in times of mourning, Chinese unbind their hair as a sign of grief, to leave it loose and untamed. Pa was afraid that wearing my hair like that would bring on a period of despair. I wasn’t superstitious, but I kept the bobby pin in my hair. It felt like wearing a bit of Pa’s love.

Once Lisa and Pa had left, my fingers began to feel numb with fear again. Images of that glamorous studio flitted across my mind. This time, I would pay attention as best I could. No more stupid mistakes. This was my chance: no more immersing my hands in boiling water, no more shifting from leg to leg for hours to relieve the deep ache in my back, no more grease underneath my nails, no more lifting tubs filled with so many ceramic plates it felt like hoisting sandbags.

I dressed carefully, applying two heaping palmfuls of gel to flatten down my hair. I decided to wear pants: they couldn’t possibly go over as poorly as the dress had. The pants were somewhat baggy but plain and black, and I paired them with a big, pink cotton shirt patterned with large roses to match the flower in my hair. I wore my one pair of heels, relieved to find that the bare patches I’d colored in were mostly hidden by the pants.

Adrienne had asked me to come to the dance studio at one p.m., a half hour before it opened, to have the chance to get settled before everything began. I was hoping to have some quiet time. When I arrived, the reception area was dark and empty as I’d expected, but lights shone from the ballroom. I tentatively poked my head inside the double glass doors.

“Hello?” When no one answered, I pushed through to the next set of doors and peered into the main ballroom.

It was a blur of lights and people. A couple on the floor was
dancing as Adrienne circled around them, analyzing and stopping them at different points. Two young women sat by the tables, watching.

I recognized the receptionist from last week, Nina, dancing with a broad Latin man. She wore a burgundy spaghetti-strap leotard with gray sweatpants rolled down to her hips, and high heels. Her shoulders and arms were tight with muscle, and as I watched, she did a series of high-speed turns around her partner. She stopped in between one heartbeat and the next. So, not a receptionist after all. She must have been a professional dancer filling in at the desk until they could hire someone.

Adrienne now stepped in to talk to them both. A beautiful loose, wide-sleeved shirt draped gracefully over her rounded middle. Then she caught sight of me through the doors and gestured for me to come in. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” she called.

“I’m early anyway,” I answered, entering the room.

“Hallelujah, you came!” Nina said, her hands clasped together in mock prayer. “Please don’t leave or they’ll make us take shifts playing receptionist again. We’re just running over because we’re struggling with the turns. I’m Nina and this is Mateo.”

Mateo, medium height with dark skin, was dressed in a black T-shirt and sweatpants. He extended his hand to me. When our palms touched, he looked down at them quickly as if he’d been startled, but said nothing, only gave me a quick smile. He turned to Nina and put his hand on his hip. “You’re off balance, sweetheart. Don’t blame me.”

Adrienne shook her head. “Not true.” She used her finger to draw a line from Mateo’s belly button up through his head. “Your arm that is leading her is off the alignment of her center. That’s why she’s having trouble. Do it again and I’ll show you how it should be done.”

I was relieved the center was important here too, something Godmother always told me in tai chi. It made me feel a bit more
comfortable in this unfamiliar world. They repeated the move with Mateo doing the lady’s part, Adrienne teaching. Then Adrienne took Nina into dance position so that Adrienne was doing the man’s part. “Nina, you’re spotting straight during the triple but I think you should spot him instead. It’ll give this segment a more intimate look.”

Nina nodded and did the step with Adrienne. She spun and spun, then said, “What a difference!”

Finally Adrienne allowed Nina and Mateo to try the move again together. They executed it perfectly.

“It was my fault, my dear,” Mateo said to Nina. “Forgive me?” And he bent and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

I looked down. Some women were so lucky. I had never seen anything like this place. I felt a flash of sadness for Ma, who would have amazed them all, I thought, if she’d only had the opportunity.

Adrienne came over to me. “Charlie, I’m all yours now.”

We walked toward the two young women who were sitting at one of the tables set against the wall of the ballroom. I recognized the tall blonde from last week. Now that I was closer, I could tell that although she made a stunning impression from a distance, she seemed to be wearing heavy foundation. She sat straight, her collarbones protruding under her open black cocktail dress, and lean legs crossed.

Her companion was petite and dark, with short black hair. Unlike my hair now, her cut accentuated her large dark eyes and crimson lips, pulled in a half smirk. They both looked me up and down but didn’t say a word.

Adrienne said, “Charlie, this is Simone and Estella, two of our dancers. Charlie is our new receptionist.” Adrienne gazed at us, clearly expecting us to shake. Simone, the blonde, extended a languid hand to me and I took it.

I felt the softness of her palm, then she jerked it away. “Do you have a skin disease or something?”

“Simone!” Adrienne sounded furious.

Everyone stared at my right hand. It was red and callused, the skin broken and bleeding in a few places where the chapped skin had cracked. I was so used to everyone else at the restaurant having a body shaped by manual labor that it hadn’t occurred to me that my hands were unusual.

Adrienne put her hand on my shoulder and said, “That’s just a holdover from her last job. Come on, Charlie, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

As I walked past the two women, I didn’t miss the way they stared. Adrienne hissed, “Put some cream or whatever on that and get your skin back to normal as soon as possible, do you hear me?”

I nodded.

“I’m going out on a limb by hiring you. You have to look presentable and those hands are ridiculous. If necessary, slap some makeup on them.”

“I’ll fix them,” I promised, mortified.

Adrienne took me to my desk and showed me the phone system. “We have an accountant who comes in every week to settle the accounts, and Dominic and I handle most of the administration and billing, so your job is really to welcome the students, handle all of the bookings for the dancers and group classes, and take telephone calls. We’re on social media and have our own website but we still hire an old-fashioned telephone call center off-site that does the recruiting for our introductory classes. It’s so competitive in New York that we find we need every extra bit of help we can get.”

Adrienne brought out the appointment book and the sheets I needed to make for each dancer with their schedules. “We want
every student to feel welcome from the moment they hear your voice on the phone. It’s very important to us to have everything run smoothly, from the first contact throughout all of the bookings for the lessons.”

The telephone caught my eye. It had many buttons. Adrienne saw my trepidation and said, “There’s an instruction sheet on how the phone system works.”

I swore to myself I’d study it every chance I had.

Adrienne took me on a tour of the studio. Behind the receptionist’s waiting room was another office, which Adrienne explained was used by the accountant, Dominic or her. The black leather couches in the reception area were for students or dancers on their breaks. Then there was the main ballroom, with her small office nestled inside it, and positioned at the end of the main ballroom was another door. We stepped through it into a smaller ballroom, with its own sound system and mirrored walls.

“We can use this room for wedding couples and group classes, also when students are rehearsing special numbers that require specific music,” Adrienne explained.

“How much are the private lessons here?” I wondered if I’d ever be able to take a few myself.

“A hundred and twenty dollars,” Adrienne said.

“For a package?”

“No. Per lesson.”

I almost choked. What kind of world was this? Godmother’s paid tai chi classes cost that much for several months of training.

Adrienne gave me a small smile. “Our dancers are some of the best in the world. We train our professionals with internationally renowned dancers like Julian Edwards, who will be coming in later. He’s not a part of our staff. He travels all over the world, giving
coaching sessions to top professional dancers. We’re lucky he visits us regularly.” She had reached a door inside the small ballroom and she opened it. “The teachers’ room.”

I looked in to find a room filled with lockers on the wall, reminding me of my old high school. People had stuck posters and photos onto the fronts of their lockers. It smelled nice, like an expensive department store. There were small machines for coffee and tea, a microwave, a minifridge, a full-length mirror propped against the wall, and at the end, another door that was propped open. I could feel a slight breeze from outside.

“That door goes onto the roof of the adjacent building,” she said. “No smoking inside, so the smokers go out when they need to. You don’t smoke, do you?”

I shook my head.

A number of folding chairs were set up in the free space of the room.

Mateo stuck his head in through the door. “Should I start grabbing some of the chairs for the meeting?”

—

I looked around at the staff sitting in a circle in the small ballroom. Muted spotlights hanging from the ceiling gave the room an intimate glow. Nina and Mateo were already there, still bickering about something from their rehearsal. The blond Simone was next to Mateo, then came the petite brunette, Estella. A couple I didn’t know sat by Estella. Adrienne had saved a seat for me in between her and Dominic, who had just arrived.

Dominic stood up. “I think most of you have met Charlie, our new receptionist.”

Adrienne said, “Except for Viktor and Katerina, who are both from Russia.” She indicated the other couple. The tall man gave me
a nod and the woman, who had a riot of chestnut curls, smiled at me in a friendly way. Everyone was watching me. I sat on my hands without thinking, trying to hide them.

Dominic said, “We hope she will be staying with us for a long time. Be nice to her or she will leave and we will make you answer the phones again.” He went over some sales numbers from our studio and others in the Avery chain. Apparently this studio was doing very well, except they were not keeping enough students from the introductory group lessons.

“What is going wrong?” Dominic asked. “Estella, since you most often teach the intro groups, can you tell me? We need to make sure they have a good time and want to return for private lessons.”

The flush on Estella’s cheeks made her look even prettier. She spoke with a faint French accent. “I do not know. I teach them. I do not tell them they are the clumsy elephants they are. I keep my mouth shut. I cannot help it if people do not want to continue.”

Adrienne broke in. “But you see, that attitude has to change. You’re calling them derogatory names.”

“Not to their face.”

“But in your mind, and they feel that. These are complete beginners. I need you to treat them with warmth and kindness.”

Estella pouted. “Let someone else teach them, then.”

Dominic said, “There is no one else. Nina is booked all of the time, Simone and Katerina usually have their competition students, the men are already overloaded with students in the evening hours. Please, Estella, try to be a bit nicer to the students.” His look was gentle.

Estella’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Yes, I will try.”

Then Adrienne said, “Remember that there is a party this week for the students on Thursday evening and the theme is Hawaiian, so please don’t come dressed like a belly dancer or an Egyptian. One
last point. While we are very happy about the affection between our students and our staff, there is a line between dancing and hanky-panky. Please remember that. Thanks, everyone. Get dressed now, as our first students will be coming in soon. Charlie, if you could please wait for us for a few minutes in the ballroom while Dominic and I finish updating the accounts from last week. Then we’ll get you started.”

—

Estella and Simone had taken up their former places at the table in the main ballroom since they were already dressed for the day. I took a seat at the table next to theirs but none of us said anything to each other.

A man with blond wavy hair was waiting by the mirror. I imagined he was Julian Edwards. He had a prominent nose, and a pronounced cupid’s bow above a full underlip. There was something in his walk—his weight low and centered—that reminded me of Godmother, though he was much younger. The Russian couple, Katerina and Viktor, entered the ballroom and greeted him. They took dance position and began to move across the floor.