“And they support my relationship with Dagou, they want me to be connected to my Chinese identity—”
“What Chinese identity?” Ming shouts. To his horror, she looks, again, like a little girl. He sees her at six years old, standing on the playground, watching the sun shine on the blond hair of her classmates. He can’t stand it. Even though he’s been there, is familiar with the origins of self-hatred, knows he can’t bear it because it reminds him of himself, he can’t speak to her any more. He puts his headphones on and turns up the sound.
They meet at Katherine’s B&B to discuss the question of whether Dagou should be a witness for the defense. Dagou wants to tell his story. “I just have to explain what happened,” he’s told each of them. Brenda says he should do what he thinks is best. Katherine, on the other hand, says what happened isn’t believable; it’s best for Dagou to remain silent. Katherine has called this meeting in an effort to take charge, but she’s too bossy and the pitch of her anxiety is too high. Without meaning to be, they’re all against her. Ming takes notes on his phone.
Katherine: “We’ve got to persuade Dagou that not to testify is in his own best interest!”
Brenda: “Won’t the jury be expecting him to defend himself?”
Katherine: “He’s not required to testify!”
Brenda: “Jerry, is that true?”
Jerry: “It’s true.”
Katherine: “We need to lay low, be very careful! We have no idea what questions Simeon Strycker would prepare to trip him up, to twist his words, in a cross examination.”
Ming (in Charlie Chan accent): “Be vely careful, vely ancient Chinese seclet.”
Katherine: “That’s not funny.”
Brenda (to Katherine): “Simeon Strycker can’t twist the truth. I think you’re watching too much Court TV.”
Katherine: “Strycker’s got something up his sleeve. I wasn’t going to mention this. But sometimes, when I’m in Haven, I’m pretty sure he’s hired someone to follow me—someone must be following us around.”
Silence. Ming assumes Brenda has taken Katherine’s point, but it turns out she’s only pausing for dramatic effect. She lowers her voice. “You don’t believe he’s innocent,” she says. “That’s why you think he shouldn’t speak on his own behalf.”
For a moment, Katherine looks startled. She reddens, as if caught. She recovers herself. “This is about how to win. This isn’t about who can stand by her man.”
“Won’t it backfire?” Ming asks, finally coming in on Katherine’s side. He launches into his argument: That Dagou has zero impulse control, he could say anything. Isn’t this already clear, Ming points out, from all the crazy things Dagou has said to the police, when he had the right to remain silent? Isn’t it obvious he’ll do the same thing in court? But Ming is too late. Katherine pushes back her chair and runs out of the room. They hear the door slam, her footsteps on the pavement, then the revving of her engine. An empty gesture, driving away in a huff, since the B&B is her lodging, after all. They shrug, and everyone packs up, goes home, to spare themselves and Katherine the embarrassment of their being there when she returns.
Later he feels obliged to pick up her call. Her voice, high and tight, crackles into his ear. “This is insane! Dagou needs a different defense attorney than Jerry Stern! Anne Sloane is the hottest young defense attorney in Milwaukee and she’s dying to take the case. You need to help me, Ming! Talk to Dagou.”
She’s right: Dagou needs a better lawyer. But Ming has spoken to Dagou half a dozen times, and Dagou has refused to work with anyone except Jerry Stern.
“He trusts Jerry,” Ming says.
“Then he’s an idiot.” Katherine begins to sob.
“Come over to our house,” Ming says finally. “I’ll make dinner.”
Ming searches through the family kitchen for supplies. Winnie left them overstocked with canned and dried goods, but the Chao men don’t buy groceries. The fridge is stuffed with take-out containers. While Katherine pretends to catch up on emails from work, Ming digs out from the piled-up counter a sprouting yellow onion and some aged potatoes. He dices the onion, and, after digging the eyes out of the potatoes, he cubes them. He watches Katherine’s reflection in the picture window. She studies his wiry hands moving with confidence from knife to bowl to pan handle. (At home, he won’t use the wok.) He cracks some eggs, deftly, showing off his dexterousness perhaps, and makes a savory Spanish omelet. Dagou isn’t the only talented cook among the Chao brothers. The aging cabbage and the carrots from the fridge become, with a few flicks of magic, a salad, dressed with sesame oil and sweetened rice vinegar, sprinkled with sesame seeds. Ming and Katherine sit down at the cluttered kitchen table and eat together, not talking. Although doubtless Katherine would’ve preferred something “more authentic”—fried rice with eggs, green onions instead of yellow, and stir-fried cabbage instead of salad—the dinner leaves her curiously softened. Waving Ming aside, she takes off Dagou’s jade ring and puts it gently on the counter, then does the dishes.
They retire to the living room and continue to fight over the case. Ming thinks Katherine is overmanaging Jerry Stern. Jerry is disorganized, but it’s the disorganization of someone who knows what’s in each pile of papers. (Katherine, Ming notices, is mentally re-sorting Jerry’s piles, which would only leave Jerry in a state of confusion.) Ming argues Katherine should trust Jerry’s instincts. Jerry will be the defense lawyer, whereas Katherine will be a bystander, save for the period when she will be a witness.
It’s not clear whether Katherine herself should testify. He can’t explain why he has this apprehension. She is, in essence, the perfect witness: well groomed, conservatively dressed, reasonable, relentlessly honest, utterly credible. Despite all this, for some reason he has a sense the trial won’t go well for her. On this night, fortified perhaps by the omelet, he ventures to tell her.
All of her befuddled pleasure from the little dinner is instantly forgotten.
“How do you know anything?” she says. “Who knows Dagou better than I do? Who talked to him every day, while you were off making your fortune in Manhattan?”
Ming, pushed into a corner, comes out fighting.
“That’s why you should back off,” he says, reaching for his superpower of expressionlessness. “This is an emotional trial for you. You could crack under the pressure.”
Katherine grows scarlet. Her lower lip swells, and Ming is reminded of Dagou and their father at the Spiritual House. With a screek, Katherine pushes back her chair. She grabs her purse and stalks stiff-legged into the kitchen. He hears the jingle of her keys.
This is followed by a long silence. There’s no movement toward the door; she’s absolutely motionless.