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“Great, I’m happy as long as I don’t have to wear the red one,” Tai said. “I’ll change in my room.” He smiled, taking the clothes from Mama and scuffled out of my room.
“Make sure to wear everything I gave you.” Turning her head facing Tai’s back, Mama said.
“I will,” Tai yelled from the hallway.
Mama beamed.
The breakfast bell rang moments after we finished dressing up. When Tai and I saw each other in front of the large oval pier glass, we couldn’t help bursting out laughing. Bundling up with so many layers of clothes, we looked like two over-stuffed toy tumblers. Mama changed also. When she climbed down the stairs with us, she was wearing an eggplant purple cotton padded robe, and on top a navy blue satin vest with black wavy patterns, her hair twirled to the back, forming a topknot. I didn’t understand why Mama never changed her hairstyle and wore nothing but gloomy color clothing, which made her look at least ten years older than her actual age—thirty two.
The minute I stepped my foot in the corridor, I understood Mama’s apprehension. It was cold! Although it stopped snowing, the howling north wind twirled up the snow from the ground and hit my face like a whipping lash. My hands and feet numb and stiff as if they had been exposed to the open air all night and frozen solid like the icicles hanging on the eves.
“Mama, I’m cold,” I cried, puffs of warm air coming out from my mouth like smoke from Father’s hookah pipe.
“Don’t talk, just bury your face in the scarf and walk faster.” Mama said, holding my hand tight while Tai skipping in front like he fully enjoyed the severe weather.
When we entered the dining room, Father, Da Ma, San Ma, Bang and Ling were already sitting at the round table. Father seemed utterly immersing in the newspaper which he raised in front, covering most part of his face except for his receding forehead. I was surprised to see Father, who, during this time of the day, would normally chant the Buddhist scriptures in his praying room, and eat breakfast alone afterwards.
We took off our capes and gave them to Hui, who hung them on the hooks, side by side with Bang and Ling’s.
“Second Sister, here you are,” San Ma greeted Mama, smiling. “Why don’t you sit by me today?” Tapping the empty chair next to her, she gestured Mama to come. “You are late, and I’ve been worrying about you.”
“Sorry for being late. It’s…it’s just Wang Sao’s not here to help, and the weather has changed suddenly… Well, thanks for your concern, Third Sister,” Mama stammered, standing rigidly, trying to find an excuse for her tardiness. Then she turned facing Father, or rather, Father’s newspaper, and Da Ma. “Morning, Lao Ye, morning Big Sister,” Mama said, nodding her head with a humble smile. I knew that she was embarrassed by our unpunctuality, which seemed to be a big crime to her, especially when Father was around. But I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal. San Ma was always late, nobody had said anything; and she had never apologized to anyone, either. Mama had an inclination to become overly self- conscious whenever she crossed the line a little; and that was why people walked all over her.
“That’s all right, Second Sister. I got here just a minute before you,” Da Ma said looking at Mama with her red, teary eyes. Da Ma had been suffering from trachoma for many years, and no doctor, herbal or Western could cure her. The prescribed medicine might help her eyes for a short while, but they soon got infected again.
Though the same age as Father—both in their late fifties—Da Ma looked a lot older.
Like most of the women nourished by the sweet waters of the lakes and streams scattering around the Yangtze River Delta, Da Ma’s skin was milky white, but unfortunately lined by wrinkles, especially on her forehead and around her mouth. The two lines slanting from her nose to the corner of her lips were so deep that they looked like newly healed scars; and when she smiled, they cut into her flash sharply, making her look almost hideous. Of course, her teary, infected eyes didn’t do her much good in helping her look better, either.
Her face was unpleasant to look at, partly because it gave you the impression that she seemed indignant and sorrowful at the same time.
Mama said that the first time I saw Da Ma; I burst out crying and wouldn’t stop till Mama took me to the courtyard. She complained that I had embarrassed her so much that she felt like digging a hole and sticking her head in it. Of course Mama was only joking. I was just a baby at that time; and I hadn’t learned to behave in accordance to the adults’ expectation till much later.
As I grew older, I found Da Ma less fearful, but sadly, she remained heavyhearted till the end. Her unhappiness was by and large attributed to the fact of her being barren, which caused her to lose Father’s affection and afforded a perfect excuse for his bigamy.
Nonetheless, due to Da Ma’s noble bloodline and fine upbringing, Father respected her, bestowing her all the privileges a first wife was entitled to. Influenced by Father, Da Ma also composed poetry and studied Buddhist scriptures. Another thing she amazed me was her mastery in abacus. She maneuvered the abacus beads with such a speed and accuracy that whenever Tai and I had problem with math, we’d ask for her help. Because of her talent, Father entrusted her with some familial monetary matters: balancing the book, distributing monthly allowances to family members, paying salary to the servants, hiring and firing….
Now that Da Ma had saved Mama from the discomposure, Mama cast a grateful stare at her and walked toward the empty seat next to San Ma. Tai and I followed her, trudging from one side of the round table to the other.
“All right, everyone’s here now, let’s eat,” Father said as we took our seats, putting aside his newspaper, raising his eyes, glancing over every one’s face over his wire-rimmed glasses, which were nestling beneath his eye sockets. But no one dared to make a move. We were not supposed to pick up our chopsticks till Father put the first morsel of rice in his mouth.
“Lao Ye, please eat before everything turns cold,” Da Ma nudged Father, picking up his chopsticks and put in his hand. “The children have school to attend.”
“Is that so? The school is open on a snowy day like this?” Father said raising his chopsticks, his eyebrows knotted.
I could hardly believe my ears. Our Father was worrying about our safety! I remembered that on a stormy day a month before, when asked whether we could be excused from school, Father had replied, “No, even it rains daggers and knives; my children still need to go.” Folding his hands in the back and looking at the pouring rain out the window, Father added, “Education is the most important thing in the world.”
But now he seemed to have changed. Everyone was looking at father with a perplexed expression.
Oh, how I wished that I didn’t have to go to school. Then I could take my time savoring all the delicious food on the table, especially the dish placed in front of me—the steaming hot, lightly browned turnip cake. It was my favorite dish, and I hadn’t had it for a long time. My stomach growled.
“Yes, I’ve already sent Lao Jiang to the school to check, and he came back saying that it’s open as usual.” Da Ma smiled picking a piece of lint from Father’s sleeve. “Let’s eat; otherwise they’ll be late for school.” She said.
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