Mei

Mei【梅】,

Mom took me to see the lamas today.

She looked confused, then relieved, and then a little bit scared when I laughed for ten minutes straight.

But he was spitting. And chewing leaves after that. His mouth wasn’t moving but his cheeks were kind of chaotic in motion, as if there’s a hamster running for its life inside the lama’s cheeks on a human athlete’s treadmill. And you can also hear the sharp crunches of chewing as you stare at his innocent eyes.

I thought you would name him Sup Sup. He felt like a Sup Sup. So I called him Sup Sup. And I told mom that Mei would be very proud. I now finally get how some names would come naturally. Like how my name was right on Mei’s lips as soon as she saw my bald little head. I told mom I could finally start naming my own children.

Mom said to go see the sharks.

We went to see the sharks.

I didn’t like the sharks.

They were in a huge tank. The water was blue and clear. They swam around, eyes glazed.

I tried talking to them. I asked them where are they were swimming to. They couldn’t hear me.

I banged my hands against their window. They looked at me and swam over.

Where are you swimming to? I yelled.

They looked at me.

Where are you going? I yelled.

They opened their mouths.

You have sharp teeth. I said.

They closed their mouths.

Are you happy? I asked.

They swam away.

Why aren’t you answering me? I screamed.

I started banging my hands against the glass.

Honey, please stop, I could hear my mom saying. Then I could hear other people complaining. Yelling. Shouting. Voices that I didn’t recognize. Voices that I hate. Voices that we used to make fun of all the time.

More people came. Mom was arguing. Then mom was tired. Mom tried to explain our situation. Mom said I was not fine. She said to the people she had to take me out because I could not get over “an important loss of the family”. And I snorted. Yeah right, I said. I’m happier than before. I talk more with the nature. I feel more of all forms of life. Mei said everything shall not become a loss. I say it’s not a loss. How is this a loss to you?

Mom started crying. Then other people went quiet. They everyone started yelling again, except in even higher ranges of tone.

They sounded hilarious, Mei. It was hilarious. People’s voices are so high pitched when they’re fulled with angry emotion.

I wonder if Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse are mad all the time. They are created to seem happy. But their voices hide something. They do.

But when I told that to mom, and the sharks, in a really calm voice, they just all stared at me.

Mei would’ve understood. Mei would’ve understood.

Then I felt hands. Mom’s hands. Cold and smooth. Let’s go. She said. Let’s go see some flowers.

We walked a while, just mother and daughter, staring straight ahead silently.

I could feel her opening her mouth multiple times, then closing them again as she realized that I’m not going to give her the answer she’d like. Pop, pop, pop.

It started raining. Pop, pop, pop.

Should we walk back? Mom asked carefully.

Mei would’ve liked the rain.

We walked on silently for another minute, water drowning us in our shirts and dresses.

She’s not only… your best friend, you know. Mom said softly. She’s also my mother.

I walked on silently.

Then, as the raindrops forced themselves to slow down, and the hint of a sun lighted up the edge of the yard, we turned around the corner and both stopped short in our tracks.

White and pink plum blossoms stared at us, drops of water like crystals glaring in the clear sky.

“Mei,” I breathed.

“Mei.” Breathed mom.

Mei, I am extremely scared.

I’m starting to forget the touch of your arms as you held me close whenever I have nightmares and wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I’m starting to forget the sound of your footsteps as you slowly walk towards our library at two in the afternoon every day to see how I did on my daily abacus test. I still remember your scent, though——— the musky smell of wood, lavender, work, and Mei——— but I’m starting to forget. I’m starting to forget. Because you’re not here for me to smell anymore. You’re not here for me to touch anymore. No matter how many times I scroll around the house——— picking up old books of yours from the shelves and squeezing my face in the pages just so I can get another whiff of you, Mei——— it’s still not you. It’s not the same. The scent always fades away.

You said to not be scared. You said to be happy all the time. You said that being sad would make you sad too, up in the sky along with the stars. You said you’ll be watching, so I mustn’t cry.

You said to be strong for mom, and I’ve tried, but I’m so jealous, Mei, so jealous. I try so hard not to be jealous, but I just can’t help it knowing that she’s been with you for twenty more years.

I love mom, I do, Mei, you know I do, but she wouldn’t even name the lama Sup Sup——— yet she spent twenty more years with you…… What did you talk about in those twenty years? How did you spend your days? Did you also walk around the park looking for people who look like cabbage? Did you also walk down 135 South Boulevard every time the sun sets to look at Pigeon Joe and Pigeon Anna lead the pack to steal bread? Did you also talk about math, science, art, history, life, love, and happiness?

I’m trying so hard, Mei. I try so hard everyday.

I miss you.

Love,

Zhu 【竹】