“Be right back,” I call as I follow her up. As I climb the stairs, I look down and see Paul is watching me. And just before the wall from above blocks my view of him, I mouth, thank you.
“I want to help Mom get ready, too!” Neena calls as she follows me up the stairs. “We’ll be right back.” I gaze back and notice she’s limping slightly and her face cringes a little when she’s halfway up the stairs, but she quickly notices I’m staring and smiles. Her joints must be hurting. She wants this so much, I’m afraid she’s hiding how exhausted and pained she is at the moment.
While the ladies return, Clara looks incredible in her Hanfu. It looks like mine, black with silver lining. Her hair is up, just like Mei-ling’s, but she must’ve decided against the makeup. The way the dress is cut, how it fits her body . . . she looks beautiful.
Clara is unusually quiet as Neena leads her through the rooms, explaining what she’s looking at; the Temple of Heaven, the Great Wall of China, and so on. Clara gets a thorough history lesson and by the time Neena is done, it’s time to eat. She hasn’t been too hungry lately, and I’m hoping she’s up to eating the foreign cuisine. The table is set, with chopsticks to the right of the plate, and glasses are out.
“In proper Chinese etiquette, the guest of honor sits facing the doorway,” Mei-ling explains. “This is not our house, but as Marcus is cooking and we are technically hosting, he will sit in the seat closest to the kitchen, facing Neena.”
Mei-ling directs us to our seats and when Marcus enters, he’s holding a tray with some kind of fancy dish with a lid.
“Ooh, what is it, Marcus?” Neena asks, as she raises her head in an attempt to peek.
“This, my dear Neena,” Marcus begins with his best imitation of an Asian accent, “is a Chinese specialty. We have made only the best for you, young grasshopper.”
“Oh shit,” I murmur. “He’s going Mr. Miyagi on us.”
“Who is Mr. Miyagi?” Neena questions, her face scrunched up.
I look at Clara like she’s insane. In a serious and intent tone, I ask slowly, “She’s never seen The Karate Kid?”
Clara appears to be spacing out for a beat and then rolls her eyes at me and chortles. “Afraid not.” Maybe she’s forgetting how much of a cult classic this movie is.
Turning to Neena, I meet her gaze head-on. “Neena, after dinner I want you to go upstairs and pack a bag. I’m taking you out of this home immediately. Clearly you have been deprived of any real culture and your mother needs to have her rights taken away.”
Neena giggles and Clara shakes her head at my ridiculousness.
“And you!” I point to Marcus. “How could you let this happen?”
“I’m sorry,” Marcus feigns crying. “I’ve failed you as a friend.”
“Mr. Miyagi was Japanese, not Chinese,” Mei-ling points out, seemingly annoyed.
“But he played a Chinese man in the movie,” Marcus adds.
“No, he didn’t,” she argues.
He laughs. “He was badass, nonetheless.” Then looking down to Neena, he says, in his best Miyagi voice, “First learn stand, then learn fly. Nature rule, Nanson, not mine.”
“Another Mr. Miyagi quote,” Clara says, a little dryly. At least she’s talking more now. I’m starting to wonder what has her so off tonight.
“Marcus,” Mei-ling says his name, her thick accent rising an octave the more annoyed she gets. “The food.”
“Oh, yes.” Marcus nods, still holding the tray. “Tonight we have made a very special meal for you. You are going to love it. Your parents are going to love it.” Marcus is purposely taking forever, enjoying riling Clara and Mei-ling up.
“Spit it out, Marcus,” Clara groans.
“Silence!” he snaps at Clara, still in an Asian accent, making us laugh.
“For you, tonight,” he sits the tray down slowly, “we have . . . the pupu platter.”
Neena’s head rears back as her mouth twists. “Poo poo?”
“Oh, yes, so much pupu,” he replies, laying heavy emphasis on the pupu.
Neena looks at me, eyes wide, sheer shock and disbelief in her gaze, and mouths, poo poo?
The room roars with laughter, to which her face turns bright red. Even Mei-ling is laughing with us.
“What?” Neena asks, looking utterly confused.
Clara leans against me as she laughs, unable to stop. Leave it to Marcus to make everyone laugh. I wrap my arm around her and pull her to me as our bodies shake. It feels good to hold her this way, when she’s happy. I constantly see her mind working overtime. When she finally pulls herself up, she is wiping under her eyes she’s still laughing so hard. “Not poop, babe. I promise,” she cackles, before chuckling softly. “It’s just the name of the dish.”
Neena cuts Marcus a sassy look, even though she’s smiling. I swear this kid has the best sense of humor. She just rolls with things. She knows how to laugh at herself. “Very funny, Marcus.”
“You really think I’d feed you poop?” he asks as his laughter ebbs.
“I don’t know,” she answers honestly.