Mismatch (6 page)

There was silence. Andy’s father threw himself on the sofa in the living room and picked up the newspaper. He turned the front page so violently that it tore. He then threw the paper on the floor and glowered.

Andy’s mother went into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with cups of tea. As far back as Andy could remember, whenever there was a stormy scene at home, his mother served tea, the soothing drink that was supposed to calm tempers. This time its soothing effect didn’t work right away. Father and son both sat in stony silence, not meeting each other’s eye.

Finally Andy’s mother broke the silence. “Andy, I don’t think you’re being quite fair to your father. If you brought a guest home, your father would never insult her to her face.
You’re
the one who is insulting. You insult your father if you believe that he would behave in such a manner.”

“Well, he might not insult her on purpose,” said Andy, “but inside, he would still think of Sue as a backward, dirty Chinese. What if something slipped out and she found out how he really feels?”
Especially if Dad glowered at her like that
.

“Don, I think you should take a wider view,” said his mother, turning to Andy’s father. “Instead of thinking about the man who spat on your shoe and yelled at you—”

“That’s the trouble with you historians! You take such a wide view that you can’t see the nose in front of your face!”

“What did I fail to see?” demanded Andy’s mother.

“A little detail such as our son sneaking off to see a girl he knows we won’t approve of!” said his father.

“Come on,” protested Andy. “I wasn’t sneaking off. I was just waiting for the right moment to introduce you to Sue.” After a moment, he added sadly, “But I see now that it’s hopeless.”

Another silence. Then Andy’s mother sighed. “Andy, you have a low opinion of me if you don’t believe that I can change your father’s mind about the Chinese.”

“Now wait a minute!” demanded Andy’s father. “Just what makes you think you can change my mind?”

Andy looked at his mother and saw that she was smiling. “I can start by mentioning the painting you bought,” she said.

His father looked embarrassed. “I . . . I was mistaken, that’s all. I thought the painting was Japanese.”

“And what made you think the painting was Japanese?” asked Andy’s mother.

“Well . . . the style . . . it’s black-and-white . . . the brushstrokes . . .”

“I know, it’s in the literati style, the kind that you especially like, isn’t it?” continued his mother. “And where did the literati artists get their inspiration?”

“All right, all right!” muttered Andy’s father. “So those artists learned the style from the Chinese. Maybe the Chinese were cultured people at one time. . . .”

“They taught the Japanese how to write,” said Andy out of the side of his mouth.

But his father heard him anyway. “That was more than a thousand years ago! The man who spat on my shoe, he’s someone who lives in China
today
!”

“Mrs. Hua didn’t live a thousand years ago,” said Andy’s mother. “She’s a living, breathing Chinese—well, okay, a Chinese American. I personally would like to get acquainted with her. And with her family.”

Andy waited anxiously. His father took a deep breath, and after a minute the red in his face began to fade.

His mother then said, “Why don’t we invite your friend—what was her name again? Oh yes, Sue—to our house?”

Andy’s father frowned. He seemed to be considering the idea. Andy wondered whether he was picturing Sue dumping garbage everywhere and spitting on his shoes. After a moment his father nodded. “Oh, all right. Maybe we can give her a few tips on what to expect in Japan. There are things she has to know for the orchestra trip.”

Andy felt a rush of relief, but it quickly gave way to concern when he remembered what Sue had told him about her mother and grandmother. “Uh . . . well . . . the thing is . . .”

“What’s the matter, Andy?” his mother asked quietly.

Andy said in a rush, “Honestly, I’m not sure how Sue’s parents will feel about her visiting a Japanese family.”

His father’s face reddened again, and Andy knew that the little bit of ground he had gained was lost. He just hoped his mother would be able to smooth things over one more time.

6

A
s the Huas made their way home, Rochelle was the only person who said anything.

“What did I tell you, Sue? You should have let Dad and Mom know about Andy!”

Sue didn’t reply. They sat in icy silence for the rest of the drive.

When they arrived home, Sue went into the kitchen to make some tea. Whenever there was a stormy scene at home, her mother always served tea, a soothing drink that was supposed to calm tempers. But this time its soothing effect didn’t work right away.

Her mother took a sip of tea, found it too hot, and banged her cup down. She glared at Sue. “To think that you would become friendly with one of those monsters! How could you betray your grandmother like this?”

Sue tightened her lips. She had known that her grandmother’s feelings would be hurt by learning that she was seeing a Japanese boy, but to call it a betrayal was unfair. She didn’t say anything, though, not wanting to make things worse. She would just have to ride out the storm.

Rochelle looked uncomfortable. “Mom, Andy isn’t a monster,” she said. “He plays the violin. From what I hear, he’s pretty good, too.”

Her mother’s lips curled. “Ha! So you think that playing the violin excuses everything? Didn’t some evil Roman emperor play the violin while the city burned?”

“Nero didn’t play the violin,” murmured Sue. “It wasn’t even invented yet. People think that what he played must have been a lyre.”

“Don’t try to be smart with me, young lady!” shouted her mother. “It’s not just that the boy is Japanese. What I can’t forgive is your dishonesty, your sneaky behavior.”

Sue’s father put down his teacup gently on the coffee table. “Lillian, I think you’re not being fair to Sue.” He turned to Sue. “I gather that you didn’t tell us about this boy because you knew we would disapprove?”

Sue’s throat tightened. She was prepared to face her mother’s anger, but her father’s sympathy almost broke her down. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to hide Andy from you forever. I just wanted to wait until I got the chance to convince you that not all Japanese are monsters.”

“You’ll have a long, long wait!” snapped her mother. “The Japanese
are
monsters, and waiting for them to change their true nature will take more time than you’ve got!”

“But Andy’s an American!” protested Sue. “He grew up in this country! He’s as American as Rochelle and me!”

Her mother sneered. “You are a
Chinese
American. Unless you want to dye your hair and get an operation to change the shape of your eyes, you will never be one hundred percent American. But even that won’t change your true nature. That boy is a
Japanese
American, and nothing will change his true nature, either.”

Sue was beginning to grow angry. “Not all the people in a country have the same nature! Look around you: not all Americans are exactly alike!”

“Lillian,” said Sue’s father, “Sue has a point there. You can’t generalize. Every country has its monsters and its saints.”

“So this Japanese boy—pardon me, this Japanese
American
boy—is now a saint?” asked her mother. “The result of living in America, no doubt?”

“Come, come, Lillian. Living in America does change people. We’ve changed ourselves.” Her father tried to inject some humor. “Why, I’ve even seen you put ketchup on some French fries!”

The attempt at humor was a mistake. Sue’s mother was now almost panting with rage. “Then this trip to Japan would bring out his true Japanese nature again and wipe out the civilizing effect of living in America! I don’t think we should let Sue go. I never liked the idea of her going in the first place. But I know how much the orchestra means to her, so I didn’t try to stop her from going. Now I see that the trip would have a disastrous effect on her true nature!”

“Mom, that’s not fair!” objected Rochelle. “After Sue worked so hard to help raise money!”

Sue’s heart was in her throat. Could her mother really forbid her to go on the trip? Would her father be able to talk her mother around?

Apparently he was going to try. “Lillian, Rochelle’s mention of raising money for the trip reminds me of the auction. Remember who made the bid for your painting?”

Sue’s mother gaped. She closed her mouth and took a breath. “Well, he only picked it because he thought it was a Japanese painting,” she said finally.

“He picked it because he has good taste,” said Sue’s father. “He has a discriminating eye.”

Sue wanted to give her father a big hug. But she didn’t, because emotional displays embarrassed him. She admired his cleverness. He knew that the way to reach her mother was through her artwork. Besides, he had told the simple truth. Mr. Suzuki had chosen her mother’s painting because he had admired it.

“Sue,” said her father. “Can we have some fresh tea? Mine is getting cold and bitter.”

Sue went into the kitchen to put the electric kettle on. As she rinsed the old leaves out of the teapot and put a fresh batch in, she could hear her father asking her mother and Rochelle to sit down. “I’ve got something to tell you, but let’s wait until Sue is back.”

When Sue had poured everyone a fresh cup of hot tea and joined the others in the living room, her father cleared his throat. “We had a retired member in our department, another art historian. His name was Hideo Hasegawa.” He paused to take a sip of his tea. “As you know, we’ve socialized with most of the people in our department. We’ve been invited to their homes, and we’ve invited them back.”

Sue remembered that her parents had invited a number of faculty members for dinner. Rochelle had even flirted with some of the younger ones. But she didn’t remember ever seeing someone called Hasegawa at their house. With her mother’s hatred of the Japanese, she could understand why he had never been invited.

Her father continued. “I saw very little of Hasegawa. The retired professors still have offices at the university, but they don’t come regularly. I’d also heard that Professor Hasegawa was not in good health. Then one day we had a guest speaker, an expert on fifteenth-century Flemish art, which of course is my own specialty. After the talk, the department gave a dinner party for the speaker at a local restaurant. I decided to attend because I wanted a chance to talk some more with the speaker. To my surprise, Hasegawa was also at the dinner. In fact, we were seated next to each other at the table.”

“They probably thought you were close friends, since you were both Asians,” muttered Sue’s mother. For once Sue didn’t think her mother was exaggerating.

“We started talking,” continued her father. “I soon found out that he was also interested in Flemish art, although he specialized in a slightly later period. In fact, we shared quite a few interests.”

“But you didn’t invite him home,” murmured Sue.

Her father glanced briefly at her mother. “No,” he said. “But after that, I began to drop by his office to chat whenever he was on campus. He also came to my office a few times, and eventually, we started going to the campus cafeteria for an occasional afternoon snack.”

Sue wanted to smile. She was picturing her father and Professor Hasegawa sneaking off for a bite at Hero’s.

Her father continued. “I forget how we got on the subject of wars. Probably it started when we discussed the looting of European art by the Nazis. I talked about how destructive wars were.”

Sue glanced over at her mother. She knew how fiercely opposed to war her mother was, and that she had taken part in many antiwar demonstrations. On a couple of occasions she had even taken Rochelle and Sue along. She stopped doing that when the girls had been almost trampled underfoot in one of the demonstrations that had gotten out of hand. Her mother’s antiwar activities had stirred Sue’s interest in the history of warfare.

“So I told Hasegawa about my wife taking part in antiwar movements,” her father went on. “When I said this, I noticed that Hasegawa’s face became rigid. It was obviously an extremely painful subject for him. Finally he asked me whether my wife had ever been arrested, and when I told him that she had not, the conversation ended.”

“Why was it painful for him?” asked Sue’s mother. Her voice came out a little husky, and she had to clear her throat. “Did he tell you?”

“Not that day, nor the next,” replied Sue’s father. “But a week later, he came to my office and told me his story. When he was a college student in Japan, he spoke out openly against the militaristic actions of the army, and against the invasion of China. Some of his neighbors reported his remarks to the authorities, and Hasegawa was arrested.”

“I guess I was luckier,” Sue’s mother said softly.

“You were
much
luckier,” said Sue’s father. “Hasegawa was released at the end of the war, but his health never fully recovered from the harsh prison conditions. He later immigrated to America, because he could not bear to live in the same place as the neighbors who had informed on him.”

There was a long silence. Then Sue’s father spoke again. “Hasegawa also told me that he was not alone in opposing the actions of the Japanese government. There were many people who felt as he did, but the ones who spoke out wound up in prison.”

“But surely it wasn’t a secret that there were people opposed to the war?” asked Sue’s mother.

“You should know better than anybody that governments don’t always listen to protesters.”

“What happened to him after he moved to America?” asked Sue.

“He continued his education at an American university, and after he got his degree, he found a teaching job, got married, and raised a family here.”

“Sounds like a happy ending,” said Rochelle. “Maybe it’s not too late to invite Professor Hasegawa to our house.”

“I’m afraid it
is
too late,” replied her father. “Professor Hasegawa died last year.”

Sue saw the keen regret on her father’s face, and she felt the same way. If her mother had met the Hasegawa family, her ideas about the Japanese might have changed.

After another silence, Sue’s mother nodded and said, “So the moral of your story is that not all the Japanese are the same, right?”

“Let’s give them a chance before we rush to judgment,” said Sue’s father.

Sue relaxed. She knew now that her mother would at least agree to meet Andy.

When Sue joined Andy in line for lunch next day, she could tell immediately that he had also made peace with his parents. There was a brightness in his face as he looked at her, and his eyebrows danced the way they did when he was playing a piece of music he enjoyed.

She smiled at him and told him about the scene that had taken place in her living room. “My father told us about this Japanese professor who was imprisoned because he opposed his country’s invasion of China. That convinced my mom that not all the Japanese are the same.”

Andy grinned. “I’m glad I don’t have to show her my grandfather’s Purple Heart, then.”

“So how did you convince your father to let you date a backward, spitting Chinese girl?” asked Sue.

“I think what swayed him was your mom’s painting,” said Andy. “He really likes it, even after he found out it was painted by a Chinese woman.”

Sue finally knew the real meaning of the phrase “a full heart.” Hers threatened to burst with happiness.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Mia’s voice said, “I know you plan to spend the day in line gazing into each other’s eyes. But the rest of us have to get lunch, too.”

At the start of the next rehearsal, Mr. Baxter looked gravely around at his orchestra members and said, “Folks, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

Andy’s heart sank. He had been dreading this. All that doorbell ringing and car washing had been for nothing!

Suddenly Mr. Baxter broke into a huge grin. “After adding up the money made from the auction, the door-to-door campaign, and the car washing, it looks like we’ve got enough to get tickets for everybody. Our trip is on!”

The players broke out into cheers. Andy began to tap his music stand with his bow, as violinists do to show their delight. Soon all the other string players followed suit. The French horns boomed, the trumpets blared, the oboes bleated, and the flutes gurgled.

Later that week, Andy invited Sue to go to the jazz concert with him, and she accepted. When he came to her house to pick her up, he thought she looked a little nervous as she answered the door.

“My grandmother’s visiting tonight,” she told him.

“Okay, I won’t push my luck by coming in, then,” said Andy. Sue’s mother might be willing to give him a chance, but he knew her grandmother was a different story.

A week later, Andy took Sue to see an anime movie, and they ran into Rochelle and Jake afterward. The four of them went to Burger King together.

“So are you looking forward to Tokyo?” Rochelle asked Andy.

“Looking forward, but also a little scared,” said Andy. When they heard his name was Suzuki, the Japanese would expect a lot from him. The thought made his stomach twist. It was like getting ready to play a solo recital.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you’re scared, with Godzilla over there just waiting to stomp on you,” said Jake.

Andy relaxed and smiled. “I think I could take Godzilla. Tokyo, here we come!”

As instructed, Sue and her family arrived at the airport two hours before the Tokyo flight was supposed to depart. It seemed that most of the other orchestra members and their families were already there. Sue joined the check-in line and found herself standing behind Mia.

“Hey, Sue!” said Mia. “Aren’t you psyched? I couldn’t sleep at all last night!”

“Me neither,” said Sue, although that wasn’t entirely true. She had actually slept for about two hours. She hoped to make up the rest on the plane. “I remember that when I went to Hong Kong six years ago, I had really bad jet lag. I woke up at two AM on my first morning there.”

Mia groaned. “I don’t want to hear about it!”

“But I got over it pretty fast,” Sue reassured Mia. “By the second morning, I was waking up at five o’clock.”