“Why not?” he called. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”
Judy shook her head, but she slipped her arm out of Lily’s and handed her purse to her niece. “Hold this,” she said. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she elevated her arms as if she were a ballet dancer and lightly leaped across the sidewalk. “Very little gravity,” she called over her shoulder. “Light as a feather!”
Judy saw Lily break into laughter. She saw Francis’s face, surprised and overjoyed all at once. He leaped after her, and when he caught up, he enfolded her in his arms. She let out a giggle as she pretended to push him away, but after a second she relented and allowed him to hold her.
Francis was bold, and he kissed her gently on the lips. “My moon lady,” he said under his breath.
In China, she would be embarrassed to be kissed by her husband in public, but this was America. Things were different here.
PART IV
Chinatown, My Chinatown
December 1954
25
Jean Warnock came striding out of the darkness beside Kath, smoking a cigarette, wearing a blazer and slacks, her hair cut short and a smirk on her mouth. Her eyes raked Lily up and down once, twice, and then she extended her hand and said, “Lily? I’m afraid I don’t remember you.”
Lily was a little affronted, but she shook Jean’s hand. It was limp, as if her handshake hadn’t yet caught up to the clothes she was wearing. Lily squeezed back more forcefully than necessary, as if to prove a point. When she released Jean’s hand, she said, “You must be Jean.” She refrained from adding, I don’t remember you either.
“That’s right.” Jean attempted a wink. “Let’s go. Kath’s been telling me you two met a couple of girls there last time.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Kath protested.
Lily fell into step slightly behind them, because the sidewalk wasn’t quite wide enough to allow all three of them to walk abreast. Lily noticed, to her surprise, that Kath had put on slacks too. Lily wondered if she should have done the same, but the only pair of slacks she owned were cropped at mid-calf, as if for a day at the beach, not a trip to a nightclub.
With Kath and Jean walking ahead of her, almost like a shield, Lily felt freer to look around and take in the other people out at this time of night. It was mostly couples, but there were also young men walking singly or in groups toward the lights of Broadway and the International Settlement. Sometimes one of the men eyed Kath and Jean, and once Lily noticed a man give them a sneer, but they didn’t notice Lily. She was grateful to walk in the other girls’ shadow.
At the Telegraph Club there was a couple talking to the bouncer, who said something Lily didn’t catch, but which resulted in the man pulling out his wallet and handing over a few bills. The bouncer took the money and folded it into her jacket pocket, then held the door open for them with a flourish. From inside the club the sound of conversation and laughter escaped out onto the street in a brief, rising wave before it was snuffed out by the door. Jean and Kath approached the bouncer next, and Lily wondered if they would have to pay—she began to reach into her handbag for the money she had brought to pay back Kath for the beers—but Jean said, “It’s been a while, how are ya, Mickey?”
Mickey did an exaggerated double take. “Jean Warnock! Back for Thanksgiving?”
“That’s right. How’s the show?”
“As good as ever,” Mickey said. “This your friend? Oh, I remember you.”
“I’m Kath. And this is my friend Lily.”
Lily came forward hesitantly, feeling out of place among these three girls in blazers and slacks. “Hello.”
Mickey grinned at her. “Welcome back, doll.” Mickey opened the door and gestured them inside with a miniature bow directed at Lily, as if she were an empress.
“Thank you,” Lily said selfconsciously. She followed Jean and Kath through the black door into the dim, narrow bar, and the smell of the club struck her again—cigarettes and beer and perfume and sweat. In the stage room, the tables were nearly full, but they’d arrived slightly earlier than last time, and Jean spied a table in a corner, half obstructed by a black pillar. There were only two chairs, but Jean insisted that Kath and Lily take them, because she was going to the bar first and would return with drinks. Lily wasn’t sure if she should offer to pay. It felt wrong for Jean and Kath to pay for her, but it also felt awkward to insist, as if she were among Chinese people arguing over a restaurant bill. It was loud in the club, and she’d have to shout through the noise—and then it was too late to offer because Jean had already left to go to the bar.
Kath had barely taken her seat before she jumped up again and darted across the room to grab a third chair, maneuvering it back to their table for Jean. Kath sat down again and said, “Hope Jean gets back before the show starts.”
Lily had her purse on her lap, and she opened it and pulled out a couple of dollars. “I brought money.” She held it out to Kath, who seemed surprised. “For the beer. I owe you from last time.”
Kath waved it off. “No you don’t, it was on me.”