Typical American (9 page)

Helen nodded.

"Heat" marvelled Ralph. He reached out, questioned the radiator with his hand. "Is Pete back?" "Not yet" said Helen.

"We have heat" He wiggled his toes. "Heat." A miracle!

"How did you do it?" Theresa wanted to know.

Helen haltingly described how big the boiler was, how intimidating. How she found the instruction manual. How complicated it was. How many terms she didn't understand. She savored the details.

"You fixed it?"

"Then I called the phone number at the back" finished Helen. "There's an oil tank under the ground that needs filling every so often."

"Really!"

"Fete has an account to pay for it."

Theresa shook her head. "That was pretty smart," she said.

Helen modestly declined the compliment. Still Theresa mused all night, and the next day too. She'd always respected Helen, but she had never felt the kind of overwhelming admiration for her that she did now. What different kinds of intelligence there were in the world! Who was to say which mattered most? One couldn't say, couldn't begin to say, although this much was certain — what mattered in China was not necessarily what mattered here.

The third day, she came home resolved. In front of the apartment door she dabbed at her eyes with an onion peel, then entered in tears.

"What's the matter?" Helen asked. "Sit down."

Theresa balled up her handkerchief. "My scholarship has been cancelled," she lied.

"Cancelled?" said Ralph. Cancelled!"

"Impossible" Ralph sat up. "How can it be!"

"It does seem impossible, right*"

"Unfair!"

"That's what I said. It's horribly unfair"

Helen made tea and filled a hot-water bottle for Theresa. Everyone went to bed early.

But Ralph lay awake in the dark, wide-eyed. "I can't sleep," he told Helen.

"Really."

"Maybe I've been sleeping too much," he said. "I'm tired of sleeping."

"So get up," she said.

filing for permanent residency under the Displaced Persons Act), she was disarmed by Janis's efforts to stay in touch. Weren't they genuine? Janis was so easy to talk to, having so much to say herself; any awkwardness she smoothed over with accounts of all kinds of Chinese-student affairs. Picnics, dances. She invited Helen and Ralph to everything. "You should go out more, see more friends," she said. "Don't lock yourself up in the house"

They never went. Helen wasn't sure exactly why; it had something to do with the fact that Janis's husband had not only been sponsored by the Chinese government to come to the United States, but was almost done with his Ph.D. already. "A record," ventured Helen.

"Hmm," said Ralph.

"If he's done by next September that'll be only five years. Including his master's! Of course, he was able to transfer a lot of credits from China."

"Hmm," said Ralph again.

"Janis says you and her husband are old friends. Classmates."

"Really f" Ralph scratched his head. "What's his name again? Henry Chao?"

Did that mean Helen shouldn't be too friendly with Janis? Helen didn't know — which was to say that Ralph was aware that they were in touch, but not that they chatted some three or four times a week, nor that she had visited Janis's place, and that Janis had visited hers. No husbands involved, Janis had said, proffering the idea as though it were an hors d'oeuvre. And Helen had agreed, reluctant but excited — it would almost have been rude to refuse — though a part of her wondered if Janis's husband did know, not only about their visits, but about everything she told Janis. Her throat dried to think that she might have revealed things about her husband to another man.

Yet such was the pleasure of confiding, of sharing the daily stuff of her existence — it made her feel somehow accompanied in life — that for the most part she relegated Henry Chao to a

kind of netherworld, in which he was not so much a person and potential threat as a spirit that could be scared off by a good loud noise. This was especially easy on the telephone. On the telephone, even Janis sported a flickering reality. And when, after all, would Henry and Ralph ever meet? In China, Helen had been taught enormous circumspection; the world there was like a skating rink, a finite space, walled. Words inevitably rebounded. Here the world was enormous, all endless horizon; her words arced and disappeared as though into a wind-chopped ocean.

A relief. "The only thing I worry about is, what if he finds out that Theresa's scholarship wasn't cancelled," said Helen. "Of course, maybe he won't."

Clinks. Helen could hear Janis washing dishes in the background. "You know what they say," Janis said finally. "Not even an earthworm can stay in the ground forever" A few clinks more. "Your sister-in-law should get married before he finds out."

"She knows it herself."

"Does she?" Janis stopped doing the dishes.

"She said so the other day. That she should get married, I mean." Helen hesitated. Her words did not meet her understanding.

But there was no chance to find better words. "I know just the person," said Janis.

Was Theresa ready to look? Too polite to object, Helen found herself listening. ?n China, friends were always arranging things for each other; Janis's reaction felt familiar, a form of goodwill Helen knew how to accept. A friend of Henry's, Janis said. A Ph.D. "But, well, he was born here," she finished.

"Born here?"

"Well, I should say he's completely American," said Janis.

"You mean..."

"Well," said Janis. "He loves Chinese food."

"A foreign devil?" said Helen. "A long nose?"

That was the end of the matter.

Or so it seemed. A few days later, another candidate surfaced. Born in China. Barely tall enough, and not much hair, some of it white, but he spoke Shanghainese and had a Ph.D.

"I don't know," said Helen at first. Janis asked so many questions that Helen couldn't answer, though — wasn't it natural for women to marry? what could it hurt to ask? — that in the evening, she mentioned the man to Theresa, casually.

"A friend of Janis Chao's?" Theresa dropped her book to her lap.

"He has a Ph.D. —" started Helen.

"You told Janis Chaor

Helen's mind flooded then with questions of her own. How could she have embarrassed her sister-in-law that way? Who was she becoming? She did not raise the subject again.

And so it was that by the time arranging an introduction came up once more — Theresa broached it this time — the old Shanghainese with a Ph.D. was taken.

Janis had just one last bachelor in stock, her landlord. Short. No Ph.D. "American born," she told Helen. "Owns lots of property besides our building, and does other business too."

"Is he Cantonese?" Helen didn't want to sound prejudiced, but at the very least, his dialect was a consideration. "What does he speak?"

"English," said Janis. "This is America. His family has been here for so many generations, I don't think he even knows what province he's from. And what does it matter anymore? He's rich. You should see the shirts he wears! All nice and starched. His shoes shine like mirrors. And he has a maid, this one. Think of it — no housework!"

A short, American-born, English-speaking businessman with no degree — for Theresa? It was a joke; but in the end, dinner was arranged, for fun.

Not that he'd recognized its divinity at first — not in this flat rectangle wrapped in checkerboard paper; its attached clump of gray ribbon curlicues looked like the head of a mop. "You might open it," Pierce suggested. Ralph had ripped, smiling warily. The Power of Positive Thinking. "Ah," said Ralph.

"I had hoped to get hold of the young people's edition." Pierce's goatee wagged. "Thinking, you know, the English. However, it was out of stock, so you have in your hands the genuine article."

"Ah."

"My wife's suggestion. I've been plagued over the years with headaches, you know. Not that it should concern you. But when they made their return — this is about the time you reappeared — she said — well."

Ralph read, an arduous process. He did not see ideas, but shapes that became letters that he sounded out into words he then had to look up. He'd decipher a phrase, read it over again, pocket it while he worked on the next, until a whole sentence, a whole page was his. His alone! Of course, the book was a best seller, as he knew from its jacket. But how many people knew the book by heart? As per the author's instructions, he'd written down a statement to carry in his wallet: "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." He could do anything! It was a matter of faith; and of imagination, a thing Ralph had never considered before. A matter of "imagineering." He needed to picture — with faith, with all his heart — his ideal. For a man was what he made up his mind to be. Which was what? Surprisingly, Ralph wasn't sure. An engineer, certainly. A powerful man. Like his father, he thought one night. But the next morning, in church (which he occasionally attended with Theresa, though he'd never converted), he stared up into the multicolored air, and knew: he wanted to be like that man-god. More realistically, he pictured a kind of assistant to the man-god, say a half step up from an apostle. He pictured himself able to do what he would.

And to an amazing extent, his imagineering worked. No bread and fish, but he noticed that his bit of athlete's foot had gone away; that he thought more clearly; that he could will certain foods to appear in the icebox. He willed Professor Pierce to go on vacation, and he started making plans. A fellow grad student, Pierce's favorite, dropped out without warning, improving Ralph's prospects.

So it was that when Helen broached the subject of going to Janis's for supper (his older sister, marriage, their obligation and so on), he thought, Old Chao's house? Sure!

The day of the dinner, though, he got stung by a bee. Walking down the street, minding his own business, he stopped to retie a shoelace and got stung, right between the eyes. How was it possible? He was an imagineer! Yet when he held his hand to his face, the skin was pounding hot. He could hardly see. His whole brow was swelling as though with a third eye.

more vibrant world. At the center of her image, the red shoes had seemed to pulse, like her own true heart.

Now she regretted buying them. In the store, they had appeared glowing but dignified. With her blue-black qi-pao, they bordered on desperate pink. Good thing she didn't care what this short businessman thought. Though why had she gotten high heels?

She tottered.

Yellow-brick cube with modern sliding windows. Inside, the lobby was quiet; it was Sunday, they were eating at three o'clock, American-style. A novelty. Steel elevator, automatic.

"Welcome! Come in!" Janis, pregnant, waved from her doorway. In a fit of daring, she had had her hair cut short and curled all over in the latest style — the poodle, this was called. To go with it she wore a turquoise-and-gray-striped apron and matching backless slippers. A large shadow appeared behind her.

"Old Chao." Ralph tried to sound hearty and enthusiastic, but his voice struggled from him like a half-drowned river rat.

Old Chao's sallied forth like a navy. "Little Chang!"

Old times. Old Chao seemed genuinely delighted to see him. This made Ralph feel all the worse. How Old Chao towered still! Inescapable. His hair seemed longer than Ralph remembered, almost wayward; his eyebrows darker and shaggier. But, as of old, his smooth face fairly shone with affable ease. Even as they stood there, Ralph suspected him of secredy prospering.

"So long since we've seen each other" said Ralph.

"Too long, too long. Come in! Ah yes! And this, if I'm not mistaken, is your Older Sister"

"How did you know?"

"When I was looking for you," explained Theresa. "Remember? We met then. He was very helpful" She nodded and smiled.

"That's right, you should thank me," joked Old Chao. "If it weren't for me and your Older Sister, you'd probably have landed up a beggar."

"Ah," said Ralph.

"Well, maybe not a beggar" put in Helen, comfortingly.

"That's right! How could you land up a beggar? Don't listen to him!" Janis gestured with unusual vivacity. "He thinks this is China! As if there are beggars here!"

"There are beggars here" said Old Chao.

"Ah" said Ralph. "Have you met my wife?"

Janis nudged Old Chao. "No, no, we've never met," he said then. "Pleased to meet you!" Helen blushed. Ralph appraised her with a sideways look. "Come in, come in, come in!" Old Chao went on. "What happened to your face!"

While Ralph explained about the bee, Theresa stationed herself on the far side of the triple-tiered hall table, so that her feet wouldn't show. Both watched Helen; with her hair draW back into a low horsetail, she did look "darling," just as Janis was saying. In her best, rose-colored dress — this combined a mandarin collar with a circle skirt — she also looked perceptibly pregnant. Thickened, buxom. Who could believe, though, that in a few months she'd be like Janis, distinctly preceded wherever she went? Already they clasped their hands over their bellies in almost the same way; their heads tilted toward one another like two halves of a drawbridge.

They're old friends, Ralph realized. Good friends. She didn't tell me. He wished he hadn't come.

"Let me introduce —" Now Janis, in the living room, was speaking English.

Ralph had so forgotten the point of dinner that when the man stood — a handsome, burly, breezy man, about his height, with large teeth, one of them gold, and a powerful jaw — he, Ralph, stepped forward, as though to be presented.

Janis was thrown off. "Let me introduce ..." she repeated. "This is, ah ... ah —"

"Grover," offered the man, helpfully, flashing a smile. "Grover Ding." He wore a three-piece suit with a carnation on his lapel, and looked around at the company confidently, as if at friends. "So whose acquaintance do I have the honor of mak-

ing here, eh?" He winked deliberately at Helen. "It is certainly a pleasure." With a bow, he extended his hand to her.

"Oh, nonono." She blushed, radiant. "Please to meet my sister-in-law."