Mambo in Chinatown (6 page)

—

As Estella and Simone lounged on the chairs in the reception area, I kept myself busy checking the appointment book. They were whispering to each other. I usually enjoyed it when the dancers hung out in my area but this looked serious. I’d seen Estella called into Adrienne’s office earlier and Dominic had followed them. I wondered what was going on.

The doors to the ballroom opened and Nina stepped in. “I’m going out now. You want me to grab you some pizza, Charlie?” I was surprised by the type of food most of the dancers brought back to the studio: Chinese takeout, burgers and pasta. Nina had told me
that the amount of exercise they got burned off the excess calories. Simone and Estella were the only ones who always purchased salads from the deli on the corner.

“I brought something from home.” I’d hidden a box of rice and leftovers in the fridge.

“Smart,” Nina said. “I should do that more. It’s hard planning ahead like that with the little guy at home.”

I stared at her. “You have a child?” Nina appeared so young.

She smiled. “Here, look.” She came around behind the desk, pulled out her cell phone and started showing me photos. “That’s Sammy.” There were pictures of Nina making funny faces with an adorable toddler who had her thick-lashed eyes. None of them included anyone who looked like he might be the father. I still couldn’t believe she was a mother. She didn’t look like any other mom I’d ever seen.

“He’s wonderful,” Nina said. Her eyes lingered on my stocking feet. I often removed my heels behind the desk when no one else could see. I’d been flexing and pointing my feet automatically because the shoes hurt so much, but now I stilled them. Would she notice how old and worn my one pair of pumps was?

Nina flipped her hair out of her jacket. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“Yeah.”

“You should come out with us sometime. Leave that desk behind.”

Warmth rushed through me. I nodded, then looked away as the phone rang.

That afternoon, I stepped into the teachers’ room to find Estella huddled by the fire escape at the back, crying. Simone had her arms wrapped around her.

“What do you want?” Simone’s lip curled.

“Estella has a phone call,” I said. “It’s from her competition student. He said he couldn’t get through on her cell.”

Estella ran a tissue underneath her smeared mascara, powdered her face quickly and then stepped out.

—

Later that week, I was handing Nina a mug of coffee when my fingers slipped and I spilled it. It didn’t burn me but splashed across my orange shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Nina said, dabbing at me with a paper towel.

“It’s not your fault. I did this to myself.” We tried wetting the stains. They didn’t budge. I rubbed at them with all my strength. What would happen when the others saw me? “I can’t go through the whole day like this.”

“Come with me,” Nina said, and led me to the teachers’ room. She pulled a light cotton cardigan out of her locker. “I use this to warm up before rehearsal.”

When I slipped off my wet shirt, I caught a shift in Nina’s face, a widening of her eyes. I quickly changed into her cardigan and buttoned it up all the way, conscious of my worn T-shirt underneath. It even had tiny holes in it. I hadn’t intended for it to be seen by anyone. Even though she was a bit shorter than me, her cardigan fit me fairly well.

Nina didn’t say anything about my clothing and just gave me her usual smile. “I like that on you.”

—

The biting October rain cascaded over the small yellow and green canopy of Zan’s cart. It hit the back of the plastic poncho Zan was
wearing and poured off of her in a constant stream. When I could, I tried to stop by her cart before I left for the studio. Despite the weather, several customers stood in line, huddled underneath their black umbrellas. I watched her as I waited for my turn.

She wore fingerless gloves, which she used even during the bitter New York blizzards. If her entire hands were covered, she couldn’t get her work done quickly enough. She brushed oil on the rounded indentations of the hot egg cake molds, then ladled in the pale golden batter she kept in a large plastic tub. Deftly, she flipped the molds as the batter started to set. When the cakes were crispy, she eased them out with a fork onto a scratched steel pan. Then she jabbed at the egg cakes with tongs to separate them and counted them with lightning speed one by one into waxed paper bags. One dollar for twenty egg cakes. Then it was on to the next customer and she would do it all again.

When I finally stood in front of her, I said, “Hey, you want me to take over for you so you can take a break?”

She smiled. “Thanks, Charlie, but I’m all right.” Zan and I had this interchange every time. She always refused whatever I offered. I didn’t know how she managed to use the bathroom or eat lunch.

“Do you want my umbrella?”

“I don’t have a hand free to hold it but it’s nice of you.”

I glanced behind me. There were only three other customers in line. I stepped around her and held my umbrella over her. “I’ll wait until you’re done with the others.”

“You’re a pal.” Zan turned her attention to the next man in line. I looked around. The fried tofu cart was a few yards away from us. The man who ran it dumped more tofu into the hot oil as I watched. The smell of grease mingled with the damp musk of Zan’s wet clothing. Her cart was sandwiched between the fried-tofu guy
and the steamed-food lady. That cart offered rice noodle rolls, pig skin, fish balls, beef tripe and lo mein. It worked out, since people would get their lunch from the steamed-food cart, then come to Zan for egg cakes for dessert.

As Zan was serving a well-dressed woman, a man in a rain poncho stuck his head in and hissed to Zan’s customer, “Chanel, Gucci! Just like the real thing!”

“Get out of here!” Zan snapped.

Finally, there were no more customers.

Zan said, “How’s the new job?”

“I’m barely managing not to get fired.”

She chuckled. “So what else is new?” She looked up, and for a moment, she met my eyes. “The important thing is, are you happy?”

I blinked as a horn blared and a passing car splashed us both. “I am. I love it there. It’s a whole world in itself. I can’t believe I’m free of the noodle shop. I feel like I’m going to mess up, get fired and wind up doing dishes again.”

“Well, I was pretty impressed with you in that tai chi class. I never knew you could move like that.”

“That’s just a bunch of exercises. Anyone could learn. How’s it going with your learner’s permit?”

“I need to be really ready.”

“What are you waiting for? You know that written test inside out.”

“Come on, I was never that good at tests and it’s so expensive. I’m allowed to retake it for free but if I flunk the first time, it’ll just seem like a bad sign. And you always said the driving thing was a dumb idea.”

“I guess I’m figuring out that if I can stumble along in a dance studio, you can pass that test.”

Zan grinned. “Maybe.”

“Lisa has the chance to take the Hunter test. You know, one of those special schools for gifted kids.”

“Wow.” Zan stirred her batter, not meeting my eyes. “You ever mind?”

I knew what she meant. “Not really. Sometimes. We can’t all be special.”

Rain poured off of her rickety metal cart as an elderly woman approached. Zan gave my arm a quick squeeze, then turned to help her next customer.

—

It was Monday again. All of the staff sat on the folding chairs in a circle in the smaller ballroom. Estella wasn’t there. There wasn’t even an empty chair for her.

Adrienne started to pace. “I think we already know what has happened and I want to make clear what our company policy is. There is to be absolutely no fraternizing with the students. It’s in all of your contracts. Are we clear on what that means?”

I tried to remember what my contract had said. I’d barely read it before signing since all of the tiny print had seemed to swim before my eyes.

Mateo put his hands together in a wicked gesture. “No doing the nasty.”

“Thank you for that visual clarification, Mateo.” Adrienne continued speaking, “I’ve been in this business for many years. I know how it goes. We love our students. Our students love us. We dance with them, we teach them, we care for them.”

Dominic stood up and took over as if they’d rehearsed it. “Some students will fall in love with you, especially the ones who are
single and alone. This is normal. Maybe you will even fall in love with some of your students. However. We. Do. Not. Screw. The. Students.”

He paused to let us take this in. “It creates an unsafe atmosphere here in the studio if the teachers start dating the students. Our students deserve better than that. They come to be taught in a professional way. Yes, ballroom dancing has to do with fun, romance and sensuality. That is a part of its power. We are here to teach them to harness that energy. However, there is a line we must not cross. The staff at Avery Studios may not become romantically involved with the students. Absolutely all staff, no exceptions.” He turned to look at me.

“Me?” I said, confused. “Who would I sleep with? No one wants to do me.” I could feel my face turn hot.

Nina burst out laughing while a couple of people chuckled.

—

Late that afternoon, when Mateo and Nina were sitting in the reception area, waiting for their students to come, I asked them, “Was it Estella’s competition student?”

Nina answered, “They’ve been carrying on together outside of the studio for so long. It was totally obvious. I think Adrienne and Dominic were trying to give them the benefit of the doubt but she only got in deeper. She’s in love with him. She thinks they’re going to get married.”

“Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t believe in men’s promises anymore,” Nina said, tossing her head. Mateo kicked her. “Except for yours, darling.” Her tone was light but I could see the strain on her face. “I think she’s making a huge mistake. I even told her, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s lost her job, her career, all for this guy.”

Mateo put his arm around her and gave her a quick hug. “Just let out the pain, baby. And he’s secretly gay too.”

Nina laughed. “Shut up.”

Mateo said, “It’s dumb all around. She should just have made him quit taking lessons here first. Everyone knows it’s impossible to police your relationships after the student’s gone. No one cares then.”

“Are they going to replace her?” I asked.

“Of course,” said Mateo. “We’re understaffed for the number of students we have anyway. What we really need is another man.”

“No, we don’t!” Nina said. “Enough men. You’re just looking for some fresh meat.”

Mateo shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. But I heard Ms. Simone and Adrienne fighting after the meeting.”

“Why?” Nina asked.

“About Pierre, of course.”

I had to think for a moment. “You mean Simone’s partner?”

“Sure. She’d do anything to get him in the same studio. Making a commitment . . .”

Nina pitched in. “And it’d be a lot easier for them to find time to rehearse. Plus, I’m sure he’d love to come here.”

“Why?”

“We’re the most successful studio in New York City.” Nina shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s because Adrienne and Dominic are so smart. They’re good to us too. They pay a fortune to bring in people like Julian Edwards for the entire staff. So what did Adrienne say about hiring Pierre?”

Mateo struck a pose and began to imitate Adrienne. “This is ballroom, my dear. I do not need the drama, not until I’m sure you’ll stay together. Dance couples, one moment they’re all over each other, the next they’re slamming doors and refusing to appear
in the same show together. So if I were you, I’d get myself to rehearsal instead of complaining to me.”

I tried to keep a straight face but then I heard Nina snorting with laughter and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling.

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Nina said.

“So who are they going to hire?” I asked.

Nina shrugged. “Beats me.”

L
isa and I stared into the vat filled with live frogs. Some were black, while others were olive with black markings. As we watched, the fishmonger scooped out the largest one, a mottled purple-black frog, and popped it into a plastic bag. He tied the handles together. The bag writhed as the frog kicked. The customer dropped the bag into her large shopping tote and left, looking satisfied.

Lisa said, “Can we buy some vegetables now?”

I signaled the fishmonger for a few pieces of sea bass, which were fortunately already dead. Then Lisa and I took our time looking at the different produce stands. Lisa’s red wool jacket brought out the gloss in her hair. It’d taken me weeks to save up for the sneakers she wore, the ones she’d wanted so much because the other girls had them. I didn’t care about clothing for myself but I loved making Lisa happy. She stuck her finger in a pile of hairy rambutan. I shook my
head, silently telling her not to touch. Then she paused over some bitter melon.

“Do you want one?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t like them.”

“I don’t. But Pa does, especially with salted black beans and fish. I’m trying to expand my tastes now that I’m becoming more mature.”

I laughed. “Good move.” I studied the rough, pockmarked skins of the bitter melon. “These are really light green. That means they’re going to be old and bitter.”

Lisa made a face. “Pa can soak them in salt water. Maybe I’ll just have a taste and you guys can have the rest.”

“Oh, thanks a lot!” But Pa did love them and we hardly ever ate them at home. I bought one and then we went to the soy man to pick up some sweetened soy milk and fresh tofu. Our grocery money was dwindling by then but Lisa looked with so much longing at the containers of
doufu hua
, sweetened tofu pudding, that I bought her one.

On our way home, we passed Gossip Park. It was a beautiful autumn day so we sat on a bench just inside the park and I opened Lisa’s pudding for her, then dribbled the syrup on top.

She paused with her spoon over the plastic bowl. “Don’t you want any?”

“No, you go ahead.”

She happily gobbled everything up. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and sighed. A tall girl with her hair in two long braids passed by on the street behind us, arm in arm with her mother.

I said, “Hey, isn’t that your friend Hannah?”

Lisa scrambled around to look, then sat down again. “Yeah.” They’d already gone down the block. “She’s taking the Hunter test too.”

“Anyone else?”

“A white kid named Fabrizio. I don’t know him that well. Hannah’s studying with her parents for it every night.”

A pang passed through me. I tried to sound casual. “What are they doing?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “You know. That family lives to do homework together. It’s the way they have fun. They’re like, ‘Oh, I know the answer to question number three!’” Lisa pretended to shoot her hand in the air. “When we were in elementary school, I overheard her mother complaining to the teacher because Hannah had homework over Mother’s Day weekend. She said, ‘When Hannah has homework, I have homework.’”

“Well, at least they care about her. What do her parents do?”

“Her dad is a dentist and her mom works in the bank. Hannah’s always showing off that both of her parents speak perfect English.”

“Well, I’m going to help you prepare for the Hunter test too.”

Now Lisa looked worried. “That’s okay, Charlie. I’ll manage.”

“No. I’m going to figure out what we have to do and then we’re going to do it.”

—

That night, I woke suddenly on my mattress on the floor. Lisa was sitting up on the couch next to me. My heart pounded in my chest. Something was wrong.

“Lisa, are you all right?”

She didn’t answer. She started feeling around in her sheets with her hand. Finally she spoke in a small voice, looking astonished, “I peed in my bed.”

Relief poured over me. “Oh, that’s nothing. I’ll help you.” I turned on the light, then we took the sheets off together and rolled
them up. “I’ll wash them at the laundromat this morning after Pa goes to work and he doesn’t have to know.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Lisa said. “Next thing you know, you’ll have to give me a bottle at night like a baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I bet you’re just nervous about the test and everything else that’s going on.” I ruffled her long hair. “Good night, sweetie.” I gave Lisa my blanket and she rolled over and went back to sleep.

I stayed awake for a while. Lisa was so smart, I often forgot she was only eleven. She hadn’t wet her bed in years. But her body was changing now and it made sense she would hit some rough spots along the way. Maybe my new job and this exam were causing her more anxiety than I’d realized. I knelt by the sofa Lisa slept on, felt her soft rounded forehead, and brushed it three times with my left hand to ward off evil.

—

Later on that week, the studio started holding auditions for a new dance teacher. The phone rang off the hook with requests for information. On the day of the first audition, the entire ballroom was packed with men and women of all different sizes and descriptions. Some women had their hair up in buns like classical ballerinas, some were dressed in outrageous outfits with bare midriffs and feathers.

“Oooh, I like the one with the low-cut green leotard and pink shorts,” whispered Viktor, wagging his eyebrows at Katerina. “Maybe we have to get you same outfit. I think it is very American.”

She burst out laughing and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You are an idiot.”

Nina and Mateo put on microphones and went to the front of the
room to demonstrate. Adrienne and Dominic stood to the side, watching. Even before the group was supposed to do the combination, some people were marking it with their bodies, flinging their arms and legs around wildly regardless of who might get hit. They learned a few short combinations, then the entire room did the routine together, then Nina and Mateo had them do it in groups of ten. I couldn’t tell the difference between any of them, only when someone went the wrong way. People paired up with each other, becoming flustered as they didn’t know how to lead or follow.

It was a sort of controlled chaos. I noticed Dominic, Adrienne, Mateo and Nina circulating through the crowd, whispering to certain people. Somehow they picked out a group of thirty-five people who were invited back to take the two-week training course, which was actually an elimination class. Every day they decided who would be allowed to return the next day.

I heard the dancers discussing the candidates after every session in the reception area. Adrienne said that mainly what the studio needed was someone to teach beginning students and groups, so personality was vital. They wanted someone who could dance well but was also approachable, whom students could identify with.

“I like the redhead,” Mateo said.

“He’s handsome but arrogant. I’m afraid he’s going to turn into another Estella,” said Adrienne.

“What about the other one, that one with the endless legs?” Nina asked.

“Too tall, and bowlegged too. She’s going to tower over half of the male students,” Dominic answered.

“I have my hopes set on the blonde. She’s a quick learner, good technique and a great personality,” Adrienne said, but that woman didn’t show up the next day. She’d gotten cast for a Broadway show.

—

On nights after Lisa was asleep, when I wasn’t too exhausted by my day, I stayed up to work on a present for her. I wanted to give her something after she took the Hunter test to let her know how proud I was that she was trying, and also so that if she didn’t get in, she would have some consolation. Although the January test was months away, I knew how slow I was. I bought a ball of shiny purple yarn with glitter woven through it. I’d seen other girls in her class wearing long sparkling scarves. Years ago, Zan had shown me and our friend Mo Li how to knit, but while Zan’s stitches had been perfectly uniform, mine were lumpy. I had caught a slight cold and my throat was bothering me, but even as I frowned over my attempted scarf now, I tried to keep my spine straight and neck long, like the dancers at the studio.

I glanced at the photo of Ma and our jar of Broadway show money. Now that I was earning more as a receptionist, I gave Lisa a dollar to put in there every week. I still gave most of my paycheck to Pa. He was trying to save money for our future too. I’d tried to convince him that he didn’t need to provide us with dowries anymore but he’d said, “Dowry, college, same thing.”

Lisa continued to sleep badly, waking up exhausted and pale. She had nightmares and was now wetting her bed once or twice per week. At first, I’d put extra cloths underneath her sheets to keep the urine from soaking into the sofa, but soon I bought her some waterproof bedding from the bit of my salary I kept for myself.

Now she started thrashing on the couch. I dropped my knitting and hurried over to her. I held her and pressed my lips against her temple. “Lisa, you’re dreaming. It’s okay, it’s not real.”

She blinked, stared at me, then sat up. She hugged me tight. “Charlie, I wish I could always be with you.”

Startled, I was silent a moment, then I hugged her back. “I’m here. Are you feeling all right? Is there something wrong at school?”

Lisa just held me. Then she said, “No.”

I pulled away to stare at her slender face in the dim light, so much like Ma’s with its widow’s peak and pointy chin. “Really? You know you can tell me.”

Her eyes began to redden but she didn’t speak.

“There is something. What is it?”

She sniffed and looked away. “Nothing you can help me with.”

“It’s the stress of the Hunter test, isn’t it? You don’t need to take it.”

“No, I’m fine about that.”

“You don’t have to go to that stupid school. Or is it because you don’t feel prepared?” I’d meant to get some books to help her study but didn’t really know where to start. Every time I saw a textbook, I felt a cold lump in the pit of my stomach, remembering all of the times I’d struggled myself. I had to pull myself together for Lisa. I was a bad sister.

“Really.” Lisa laid a hand against my cheek. “I’m okay and the test’s not the problem. I promise.”

I placed my hand over hers. “Good. Then we’d better get you back to bed.”

“How often is this happening?” Pa stood in the doorway of the living room. He looked older than usual, his disheveled hair stood on end.

I looked at Lisa. Her eyes begged me not to tell him. “First time,” I said.

—

The next morning, Pa brewed the caterpillar soup for us. He had kept the caterpillars in an airtight box loaned from Uncle Henry all
this time because Lisa and I had refused to eat them, but now he was adamant. We all sat around the small table with bowls of the viscous liquid in front of us. It was gray mixed with brown and smelled like dank earth. Thank goodness Pa had strained the caterpillars and herbs out of the soup. He must have known that if we’d been confronted with the bodies, we would have refused no matter what he said. But I had seen the little worms as he’d dropped them into the ceramic pot.

I stared at my bowl. “Are you really sure this works?”

“It’s unscientific and unhygienic,” said Lisa.

“Lisa.” I didn’t want to drink it either, but I didn’t want her to be disrespectful to Pa. It was too late to avoid the soup now.

She continued as if I hadn’t said anything. “This could result in our getting parasites. In the best-case scenario, we’d throw up from disgustingness.”

I breathed in. “Come on, Uncle Henry just cured that new delivery boy from the noodle shop of asthma, remember? He knows what he’s doing.”

“He used acupuncture. That guy didn’t have to drink worm soup.”

Pa’s angular face was firm. “This worm soup cost us almost a hundred and fifty dollars.”

Lisa swallowed and glanced at our Broadway show jar. A hundred and fifty dollars was a huge part of our household budget. I knew what she was thinking. We could almost have saved for another ticket with this amount. But I thought of Lisa and her nightmares. Maybe it would work. I’d drink the soup because that meant she would too.

“Drink up,” Pa said. “This is good for all of us. I will too. It is only because of Uncle Henry’s kindness that we have access to such powerful medicine.”

Lisa and I had years of experience drinking this sort of thing. We waited for the soup to cool, then held our breaths and gulped it down as quickly as possible. It tasted vile: bitter and slimy, with an undertone of mud. Then we ran to the sink and washed our mouths out with water.

“That is a waste,” Pa said.

“I want a glass of soda,” Lisa panted.

“Not allowed,” said Pa. “The bubbles will counter the power of the soup.”

I was heaving like I was going to vomit. I wanted to, only Pa would be so disappointed.

“Here.” Pa gave us each a piece of dried salted plum. It was a relief to have another taste in my mouth.

“They were boiled so long, all the germs in the caterpillars must have been sterilized, right?” Lisa said.

“Sure,” I said. “Can we talk about something else now?”

Pa said, “I think I feel stronger already.”

—

The next morning, I woke up and my cold seemed to have been cured overnight. Lisa, though, remained unchanged.

—

For the first time in my life, I now rode the subway every morning, rocketing north out of Chinatown. I descended into the station in one world, and I emerged, half an hour later, in an entirely different one. Riding the subway was fascinating to me, watching all of the people get on and off. As the train went uptown, the number of Chinese people in the car decreased. They were replaced by men and women in long black coats, reading their cell phones. When I spotted a subway car ad for lupus treatment, I bit my lip, wondering
if Lisa had some disease like that. What if she was really sick? No, she was a young healthy girl. She was just stressed.

More people got on and off. I particularly studied the other young women who seemed to be, like me, on their way to work, yet in some ways looked so different. Many of them wore simple clothing that somehow still managed to be attractive by the way it fell over their bodies. They all seemed to have the same types of flat shoes or black boots and oversized bags. It felt as if the rest of the world knew something I didn’t, like they were dancing the tango together while I was doing freestyle, flailing away by myself.