Great-aunt Rosemary
advised him to book into a hotel first, but emphasized that he must arrange to introduce
Rachel to his parents on the day of his arrival. “The very first day. Don’t wait until
the next day,” she cautioned. Perhaps he should invite his parents out to a meal with
Rachel, so they could meet on neutral territory. Someplace low-key like the Colonial
Club, and better to make it lunch instead of dinner. “Everyone is more relaxed at
lunchtime,” she advised.
Nick was then to proceed to his grandmother’s by himself and formally request permission
to invite Rachel to the customary Friday-night dinner that Ah Ma hosted for the extended
family. Only afterRachel had been properly received at Friday-night dinner should the topic of where
they might stay be broached. “Of course your grandmother will have you to stay, once
she meets Rachel. But if worse comes to worst,
I
will invite you to stay with me, and no one will be able to say anything then,” Great-aunt
Rosemary assured him.
Nick decided to keep these delicate arrangements from Rachel. He didn’t want to give
her any excuse to back out of the trip. He wanted Rachel to be prepared to meet his
family, but he also wanted her to create her own impressions when the time came. Still,
Astrid was right. Rachel needed some sort of primer on his family. But how exactly
could he explain his family to her, especially when he had been conditioned his whole
life never to speak about them?
Nick sat on the floor, leaning against the exposed-brick wall and putting his hands
on his knees. “Well, you probably should know that I come from a very big family.”
“I thought you were an only child.”
“Yes, but I have lots of extended relatives, and you’ll be meeting lots of them. There
are three intermarried branches, and to outsiders it can seem a bit overwhelming at
first.” He wished he hadn’t used the word
outsiders
as soon as he said it, but Rachel seemed not to notice, so he continued. “It’s like
any big family. I have loudmouth uncles, eccentric aunts, obnoxious cousins, the whole
nine yards. But I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of meeting them. You met Astrid, and
you liked her, didn’t you?”
“Astrid is awesome.”
“Well, she adores you.
Everyone
will adore you, Rachel. I just know it.”
Rachel sat quietly on the bed beside the pile of towels still warm from the dryer,
trying to soak in everything Nick had said. This was the most he had ever talked about
his family, and it made her feel a little more assured. She still couldn’t quite fathom
the deal with his parents, but she had to admit that she had seen her fair share of
distant families—especially among her Asian friends. Back in high school, she had
endured dreary meals in the fluorescent-lit dining rooms of her classmates, dinners
where not more than five words were exchanged between parent and child. She had noticed
the stunned reactions from her friends whenever she randomly hugged her mother or
said “I love you” at the end of a phone call. And several years ago, she had been
e-mailed a humorous list entitled “TwentyWays You Can Tell You Have Asian Parents.” Number one on the list:
Your parents never, ever call you “just to say hello.”
She didn’t get many of the jokes on the list, since her own experience growing up
had been entirely different.
“We’re so fortunate, you know. Not many mothers and daughters have what we have,”
Kerry said when they caught up on the phone later that evening.
“I realize that, Mom. I know it’s different because you were a single mom, and you
took me everywhere,” Rachel mused. Back when she was a child, it seemed like every
year or so her mother would answer a classified ad in
World Journal
, the Chinese-American newspaper, and off they would go to a new job in some random
Chinese restaurant in some random town. Images of all those tiny
advised him to book into a hotel first, but emphasized that he must arrange to introduce
Rachel to his parents on the day of his arrival. “The very first day. Don’t wait until
the next day,” she cautioned. Perhaps he should invite his parents out to a meal with
Rachel, so they could meet on neutral territory. Someplace low-key like the Colonial
Club, and better to make it lunch instead of dinner. “Everyone is more relaxed at
lunchtime,” she advised.
Nick was then to proceed to his grandmother’s by himself and formally request permission
to invite Rachel to the customary Friday-night dinner that Ah Ma hosted for the extended
family. Only afterRachel had been properly received at Friday-night dinner should the topic of where
they might stay be broached. “Of course your grandmother will have you to stay, once
she meets Rachel. But if worse comes to worst,
I
will invite you to stay with me, and no one will be able to say anything then,” Great-aunt
Rosemary assured him.
Nick decided to keep these delicate arrangements from Rachel. He didn’t want to give
her any excuse to back out of the trip. He wanted Rachel to be prepared to meet his
family, but he also wanted her to create her own impressions when the time came. Still,
Astrid was right. Rachel needed some sort of primer on his family. But how exactly
could he explain his family to her, especially when he had been conditioned his whole
life never to speak about them?
Nick sat on the floor, leaning against the exposed-brick wall and putting his hands
on his knees. “Well, you probably should know that I come from a very big family.”
“I thought you were an only child.”
“Yes, but I have lots of extended relatives, and you’ll be meeting lots of them. There
are three intermarried branches, and to outsiders it can seem a bit overwhelming at
first.” He wished he hadn’t used the word
outsiders
as soon as he said it, but Rachel seemed not to notice, so he continued. “It’s like
any big family. I have loudmouth uncles, eccentric aunts, obnoxious cousins, the whole
nine yards. But I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of meeting them. You met Astrid, and
you liked her, didn’t you?”
“Astrid is awesome.”
“Well, she adores you.
Everyone
will adore you, Rachel. I just know it.”
Rachel sat quietly on the bed beside the pile of towels still warm from the dryer,
trying to soak in everything Nick had said. This was the most he had ever talked about
his family, and it made her feel a little more assured. She still couldn’t quite fathom
the deal with his parents, but she had to admit that she had seen her fair share of
distant families—especially among her Asian friends. Back in high school, she had
endured dreary meals in the fluorescent-lit dining rooms of her classmates, dinners
where not more than five words were exchanged between parent and child. She had noticed
the stunned reactions from her friends whenever she randomly hugged her mother or
said “I love you” at the end of a phone call. And several years ago, she had been
e-mailed a humorous list entitled “TwentyWays You Can Tell You Have Asian Parents.” Number one on the list:
Your parents never, ever call you “just to say hello.”
She didn’t get many of the jokes on the list, since her own experience growing up
had been entirely different.
“We’re so fortunate, you know. Not many mothers and daughters have what we have,”
Kerry said when they caught up on the phone later that evening.
“I realize that, Mom. I know it’s different because you were a single mom, and you
took me everywhere,” Rachel mused. Back when she was a child, it seemed like every
year or so her mother would answer a classified ad in
World Journal
, the Chinese-American newspaper, and off they would go to a new job in some random
Chinese restaurant in some random town. Images of all those tiny
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