My father-in-law had had to wait a long time for his investment—his crop—to ripen, but it had worked for him, providing cheap labor for his enterprises and easily lining his pockets.
“And Edfred?” Yen-yen smiles in amusement. “He’s Wilburt’s son, you know.”
No, I didn’t know. Until recently I had thought all these men were Sam’s brothers.
“We had a paper for a son born in 1911,” Yen-yen continues, “but Edfred wasn’t born until 1918. Edfred was only six when we brought him here, but his paper said he was thirteen.”
“And no one noticed?”
“They didn’t notice that Wilburt wasn’t eleven either.” Yen-yen shrugs at the stupidity of the immigration inspectors. “With Edfred, we said he was small and undeveloped for his age, that he’d been starving in the home village. The inspectors appreciated the idea that he hadn’t benefited from ‘proper nutrition.’ They assured me he would ‘plump up’ now that he was in his proper country.”
“It’s all so complicated.”
“It’s supposed to be complicated. The lo fan try to keep us out with their changing laws, but the more complicated they make them, the easier it is for us to trick them.” She pauses to let that sink in. “I had only two sons of my own. My first son was born in China. We brought him here and we had a peaceful life. We took him back to the home village when he turned seven, but he had an American stomach, not a village stomach. He died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Long time ago now,” Yen-yen says, almost matter-of-factly “But I tried and tried and tried to have another son. Finally, finally, I got pregnant. The old man was happy. I was happy. But happiness doesn’t change your fate. The midwife came to catch Vernon. She could tell right away something was wrong. She said this happens sometimes when a mother is old. I must have been over forty when he was born. She had to use—”
She stops before a shop that sells lottery tickets and sets down her packages so she can shape her hands into claws. “She pulled him out of me with these things. His head was bent when he came out. She squeezed on this side and then the other to make it into a better shape, but…”
She picks up her bags again. “When Vern was a tiny baby, the old man wanted to go back to China to get one more paper son. We had the certificate, see? Our last one. I didn’t want to go. My Sam died in the home village. I didn’t want my new baby to die too. The old man said, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll nurse the baby the whole time.’ So we went to China, picked up Edfred, got on a boat, and brought him back here.”
“And Vern?”
“You know what they say about marriage. Even a blind man can get a wife. Even a man with no sense can get a wife. Even a man with palsy can get a wife. All those men have one duty and one duty alone. To have a son.” She looks up at me as pathetic as a bird but with a will as strong as jade. “Who will take care of the old man and me in the afterlife if we don’t have a grandson who will make offerings to us? Who will take care of my boy in the afterworld if your sister doesn’t give him a son? If not her, Pearl, then it has to be you, even if he is just a paper grandson. This is why we keep you here. This is why we feed you.”
My mother-in-law steps into the dry goods store to buy her weekly lottery ticket—the eternal hope of the Chinese—but I’m filled with great concern.
I CAN BARELY wait for May to come home. As soon as she walks in the door, I insist that she go with me to China City, where Sam is working on the rebuilding effort. The three of us sit on crates, and I tell them what I learned from Yen-yen. They aren’t surprised by anything I say.
“Then either you didn’t hear me or I didn’t tell it the right way. Yen-yen said they used to go back to the old man’s home village to see his parents. He always says he was born here, but if his parents lived in China, then how could that be?”
Sam and May look at each other and then back at me.
“Maybe his parents lived here, had the old man, and then retired to China,” May suggests.
“That’s possible,” I say. “But if he was born here and lived here for almost seventy years, why isn’t his English better?”
“Because he’s never left Chinatown,” reasons Sam.
I shake my head. “Think about it. If he was born here, then why is he so loyal to China? Why did he let Yen-yen and me out to picket and raise money for China? Why does he always say he wants to retire ‘home’? Why is he so desperate to keep us close? It’s because he’s not a citizen at all. And if he’s not a citizen, then the consequences for us—”
Sam stands. “I want to know the truth.”
We find Old Man Louie at a noodle shop on Spring Street, having tea cakes and tea with his friends. When he sees us, he gets up and comes to the entrance.
“What do you want? Why aren’t you working?”
“We need to talk to you.”
“Not now. Not here.”
But the three of us aren’t going anywhere without answers. Old Man Louie motions us to a booth far enough from his friends that they won’t hear the conversation. It’s been months since the New Year’s Day fight, but Chinatown’s gossips haven’t stopped murmuring about it. Old Man Louie has tried to be more congenial, but an awkwardness lingers between him and Sam, who doesn’t waste time with niceties.
“You were born in Wah Hong Village, weren’t you?”
The old man’s lizard eyes narrow. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter who told us. Is it true?” Sam asks.
The old man doesn’t respond. We wait. Around us, we hear laughing, chatting, and the sounds of chopsticks against bowls. Finally, the old man grunts.
“You’re not the only ones here on a lie,” he says in Sze Yup. “Look at the people in this restaurant. Look at the people who work in China City. Look at the people on our block and in our building. Everyone has a lie of some sort. Mine is I wasn’t born here. When the earthquake and fire in San Francisco destroyed all birth records, I was here and thirty-five years old by American counting. Like many others, I went to the authorities and told them I was born in San Francisco. I couldn’t prove I was, and they couldn’t prove I wasn’t. So now I am a citizen … on paper, just as you are my son on paper.”
“What about Yen-yen? She also came here before the earthquake. Does she claim to be a citizen too?”
The old man’s eyebrows furrow in disgust. “She’s a fu yen. She’s bad at telling lies and she can’t keep a secret. Obviously. Or you wouldn’t be here.”
Sam rubs his forehead as he absorbs the implications of all this. “If someone finds out you aren’t a real citizen, then Wilburt, Edfred—”
“Yes, all of us, including Pearl here, will be in trouble. This is why I hold you like this.” He closes his hand into a tight fist. “There can be no mistakes, no slips, eh?”
“What about me?” May asks, her voice tentative.
“Vern was born here, so you, my May, are the wife of a true citizen. You came legally and you are forever safe. But you need to watch your sister and her husband. One bad report from someone and they’ll be sent back. We could all be sent back, except for you, Vern, and Pan-di—although I’m sure the baby would go back to China with its parents and grandparents. I trust you, May, to help make sure that doesn’t happen.”
May pales at his words. “What could I ever do?”
A slight smile curls the corners of Old Man Louie’s lips, but for the first time I don’t see it as heartless. “Don’t worry too much,” he says. He turns to Sam. “Now you know my secret, and I know yours. Like a true father and son, we are bound together forever. The two of us not only protect each other but we also protect the uncles.”
“Why me?” Sam asks. “Why not one of them?”
“You know why. I need someone to care for my businesses, take care of my real son when I’m dead, and look after me as an ancestor when I go to the afterworld because Vern won’t be able to do that for me. I know you think I’m a cruel man and you probably don’t believe me, but I truly did choose you to be my replacement son. I will always look at you as my eldest son, my first son, which is why I’m so hard on you. I’m trying to be a proper father! I’m giving you everything, but you have to do three things. First, you must give up your plans to run away.” He puts up a hand to prevent any of us from speaking. “Don’t bother denying it. I’m not stupid, I know what’s happening in my home, and I’m tired of worrying about it all the time.” He pauses and then says, “You have to stop working at the Temple of Kwan Yin. That’s an embarrassment to me. My son shouldn’t need to do that job. And finally, you must promise to care for my boy when the time comes.”
Sam, May, and I look from one to the other of us. May sends me a message, almost pleading: I don’t want to keep moving. I want to stay in Haolaiwu. Sam, whom I still don’t know that well, takes my hand: Maybe this is an opportunity after all. He says he’ll treat me as the true first son. For myself… I’m tired of running. I’m not very good at it, and I have a baby to care for. But are we selling ourselves for less than what the old man already bought us for?
“If we stay,” Sam says, “you have to give us more freedom.”
“This is not a negotiation,” the old man shoots back. “You have nothing to bargain with.”