Great Call of China (S.A.S.S.) (22 page)

Annoyed, Cece packed up her laptop, called Peter, and asked to meet him at the café by the university. Maybe he could help her understand why nothing added up.

When she arrived, she connected to Wi-Fi and showed Peter what she’d found.

“It’s like there’s a conspiracy or something,” Cece said. “I can’t prove that boys are valued here more than girls.”

Peter shrugged. “Maybe it’s because there is nothing to prove.”

“But there is, Peter,” Cece said. “I literally saw with my own two eyes all the girls at that orphanage. Don’t you think that speaks for itself?”

“To some extent, it does,” he said. “But this is the problem. You are making it sound like almost everyone is giving up girls for boys. I don’t think that is true because you just said twenty thousand children out of 1.2 billion.”

“Yeah, but that number must be way understated.”

“Even if it is,” Peter said, “do you believe our country is filled with homeless girls?”

“Well, no. Maybe they were all adopted to other countries. Like me.”

“Let’s look.” Peter typed his search on the Internet. “It says in 2005, about eight thousand Chinese children total were adopted to foreign countries.”

“Only eight thousand?”

“So where are the girls you think China abandons all the time?”

“Peter, I don’t know.” Cece held her head in her hands.

“Maybe you are looking for something that isn’t there.”

“No, I’m not,” Cece said indignantly. Then she felt herself giving in a little. “Okay, so maybe not
everyone
here thinks boys are more important than girls.”

“Maybe?”

“Okay, so it’s possible I’ve been generalizing... a little.”

“Good,” Peter said. “I’m glad you can see it now.”

“See what?”

“See why you need to go back to Beijing.”

Cece squeezed her eyes shut.
“Peter.”

“Cece, you say you came here to find answers, but now you are trying to go back home with only more questions.” He got up. “Think about that.” And as if to emphasize his point, Peter just walked out, leaving her to herself.

Cece blew air at her bangs. She was so frustrated. She thought over what Peter had said about going home with more questions. But it was so much easier to forget what she had learned while she was here. Or was it? Cece played with a napkin on the table. Since Beijing, the image of the house and that boy had entered her mind one too many times. Would she ever really be able to forget?

Cece shut her laptop and packed up. So many thoughts swirled in her head as she went back to her dorm. She thought about how she felt before she left for China—so determined to find out why she had been abandoned. So excited to learn more about where she came from, who her parents were. Then she thought about her time in China—getting to know Jessica and understanding the strictness of her parents; meeting Peter’s mother and father, who seemed so different from Jess’s family; and finally Will, who hardly seemed any more Chinese than Cece. What was she to learn from all of this?

When she returned to her room and got ready for bed, she contemplated the orphanage. All those girls, their smiling faces. They all had their own stories, didn’t they? Like Jess, like Peter, like Will... like her. So why couldn’t she just go find out what hers was?

Cece lay in bed, trying to determine the answer, and when she finally found a way to put it in words, every part of her cringed. She knew what the possible consequence of approaching that fancy house in Beijing was. She knew what could happen if she met her birth mother and father.

She’d already felt rejected by them once. Could she risk being rejected
twice
?

That was it, wasn’t it? Her worst fear. Was she strong enough to weather that? Cece glanced at Jess’s empty bed. Could she spend her whole life feeling like her birth parents never accepted her, like Jess? What was it that her roommate had said? “If I know who I am and what I want, no one can hurt me.”

Was that true?

Cece took out her picture from the orphanage. The girl staring back was still a stranger, even after all this time. And the longing within Cece to know herself burned stronger.

You are trying to go back with only more questions,
Peter had said.

She knew then that it wasn’t a matter of personal choice. It wasn’t a matter of fear anymore.

She got out of bed and pulled out her overnight bag.

Tomorrow evening, she had to go to Beijing.

 

The next day, before Cece met with her project team, she, Kallyn, and Peter met in her room. She told them about her change of plans.

“Finally,” Kallyn said, “Cece listens to the voice of reason.”

“It’s because I left you at the table, isn’t it?” Peter said. “I thought that was a nice touch.”

Cece smiled.

“I’ll get us train tickets tonight.” Peter got up to leave.

“Wait, Peter.” Kallyn looked at Cece. “Do you want me to come, too?”

Cece hesitated. “Actually ... I’d like to do this on my own, as much as I can. But Peter, I will need you.”

“Sure,” Peter said.

Kallyn nodded. “I understand. I’ll be pulling for you, Cece.”

After they broke up, Cece headed to the theater, thinking about how she was going to rearrange her schedule to fit in the trip to Beijing. By the end of today, the team would be about three-quarters done with the shots they needed. They’d already planned to meet Monday and Tuesday to finish. Finals were on Wednesday and Thursday—her culture paper would be due, and she’d have to take massive tests for other classes. Then Friday team projects would be presented. Her last week would be horrendous.

“Hey, Cece!”

Cece turned to see Will running up to her.

“I was thinking that I’d stop by your room around six?”

Her birthday plans.
“Will, I’m sorry,” Cece said. “I can’t go anymore. I was just going to tell you.”

Will looked concerned. “What happened?”

“I’m going to Beijing.”

A grin spread across his face. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Cece said. “I take it you think it’s the right move.”

Will nodded. “But I knew it had to be your decision. Do you need me to come with you? I’d be happy to.”

“No, that’s okay. Peter is already going. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks for the offer.”

“Well, all right then. Maybe we’ll have something even more to celebrate when you get back.”

Cece bit her lip. “I hope so.”

 

That evening, Cece boarded the train with Peter. While Peter stayed in another compartment, Cece lay in her sleeper, watching the shadows of the night flash across the walls. She felt like she was wandering into the big unknown, but mixed in with all the nervousness, she was oddly proud. She really was doing this, and somehow, she knew that Will was right. Everything
was
going to be okay.

When Cece and Peter arrived in Beijing the next morning, they hailed a cab and went directly to the house. The Mercedes was gone, and the yard was empty. “Now don’t be nervous,” Peter said. “Let me do the talking.”

“Easier said than done.” Cece rubbed her hands against her jeans and took a few deep breaths.

They got out of the cab and crossed the street. Peter found a speaker in front of the wooden gate. “I will ask for the master of the house.”

“Sure.” Cece leaned against the gate, thankful to be leaning against something.

Peter pressed one of the buttons, and the ringer buzzed. A few moments later, a man’s voice came on over the speaker. Peter and the man exchanged a few words.

“It is the attendant,” Peter whispered to Cece. “He wants to know what we want with the master.”

Cece shrugged. “Should we make up something?”

“No,” Peter said, “I will just tell him it’s important.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Peter spoke into the speaker again, and the man replied.

“This is not so easy,” Peter said. “He wants to know
why
it’s important.”

“Unbelievable.” Cece said. She stared at the gate.
Think, Cece.
“Maybe we should mention that the care worker sent us here?”

“Good. I will do that.”

Peter spoke into the speaker once more.

After a momentary pause, Cece heard the man say,
“Wang Mei Ling?”
as if he was surprised. Then he said,
“Deng yi xia.”

Cece knew this one. It meant
wait.
“So he’s getting somebody?”

“Maybe,” Peter said. “The attendant’s coming.”

Cece straightened.
This is it.

The lookhole in the gate opened, and an older man peered at Peter and Cece. Then he conversed with Peter. Cece heard Peter mention the care worker’s name again.

Breathe, Cece, breathe.
She was starting to feel dizzy.

The man stared intently at Cece. “Bei Ma Hua?”

Peter nodded.

Bei Ma Hua,
Cece thought. That was her name at the orphanage. “Peter, he knows me?”

Before Peter could answer, the man opened the gate.
“Wo de tian, ah,”
he said, a serious expression on his face.
“Ni shi lai zhao wo ma?”
His eyes began to brim with tears.
“Ni shi lai zhao wo?”

Cece looked back at the man. “What’s he saying, Peter?”

“He says, ‘Have you come to find me?’”

What?
Cece glanced from the man to Peter, confused.

The man continued to speak. A tear slid down his cheek.
“Ni shi wo de nuer.”

This time, Cece realized what the man had said as soon as Peter had.

Cece found herself in a long embrace. This man was her father?
But how?
She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her father pulled back from their hug. Cece searched his face, looking for a resemblance, and now she could see it. His cheeks—they were rounded like hers. His chin, just as sharp.

“Wo jiao Shao Yi Mou,”
he said.

Shao Yi Mou.
Her father’s name. She still couldn’t believe he was standing right in front of her. Her dad. Her eyes welled with tears.
“Wo, wo jiao Cece,”
she managed to say.

“Cece,” her father said perfectly. It was as if the name couldn’t have sounded more beautiful to his ears.
“Lai, lai.”

Come.
Cece tried to compose herself as he ushered them into the courtyard and toward the back of the house. As Cece walked, her shock quickly turned into anticipation. What would her dad say to her? What would she find out? She looked at Peter, who gave her a reassuring smile. They came to a weathered door, then stepped inside. Cece took in the tiny, barely furnished room. There was only a small cot, a few chairs, and a table. Above the table, some dishes were stacked on a shelf, and in the opposite corner, a shower curtain was drawn across a narrow doorway.

Her father dusted off a couple of the chairs and gestured toward them.
“Zuo.”

Cece and Peter sat down. As Cece nervously played with the edge of her shirt, she studied her father as he warmed a teapot. He was wearing a simple collarless button-down and loose-fitting pants. Almost like pajamas. From the creases of his clothing, she could make out his thin frame. How long had she wondered where she’d gotten her lanky stature? Now she knew.

When her father turned with two mugs brimming with tea, Cece smiled, an effort to appear calm.

He smiled back and handed Peter and Cece the mugs.

Though Cece wasn’t thirsty, the cup felt comforting in her hands, and the warmth of the mug stilled her.

Then Yi Mou—or should she call him
Baba?
or Father? she wasn’t sure—sat opposite Cece on the cot and started talking to Peter.

Peter said, “He wants to tell the story he has waited so long to tell you.”

Cece nodded, eager to listen.

Her father began.

“Twenty years ago,” Peter translated, “your father came from the country to find work. It was here in Beijing that he got a job as an attendant for a government official. His wife, An Wei, your mother... ”

My mother?
Cece immediately wondered where her mom was. It was clear from the room, she didn’t live there. Cece looked at her father, but didn’t want to interrupt.

“Your mother,” Peter said, “was also an attendant at the house. They fell in love and married. The master supported the marriage, but his wife did not. She thought it was shameful to house a family as if they ran a charity.”

Cece’s father shook his head as he spoke.

“But the master prevailed,” Peter translated, “allowing your parents to live in this room so long as their work would not suffer. Of course, your parents wished for a child, and when An Wei became pregnant, they were overjoyed. The official’s wife was very upset.