Three Loves Seven, Chapter 11, Part 2 - "Please Don't Be the Burning Man"

Dear friends, family, and gentle readers,

Here is the next installment in the adventures of our oft-vexed geologist, Clete Wong. Supposedly the Chinese have a saying "Without coincidence, there is no story." You just got a major coincidence in the last episode. I would rephrase that saying for this novel, "Without tons of coincidence, you cannot have a romantic farce."

We shift from the recollections of 17-year-old Wen back to Clete's journal entry of that same evening.

I have brought back administrative assistant Sally for this episode. In some ways she is the soul sister of Silver Bird whom some of you met in this blog last year. Clete e-mails her all the time and checks in by phone. You just don't need to see all of their boring work conversations. If you don't know who I'm talking about, you'll meet Silver Bird when the novel shifts into historical mode (or you can backtrack into the Cinderella story by going all the way into June 2013). Sally has a very active imagination.

By the way, I've decided to put the working title of "Three Loves Seven" on this project to appear all of the headlines, just to see if I can budge the search engines to find this blog with that string. Let's see what happens. Do me a favor and search for it now and then and that will help out the process.

Thanks for reading.

Love,
Pops

Personal Journal Entry

U.S. Time:            Friday, July 20, 2012
Island Time:        Dragon, Month 6, Day 2, Xingqi 5

Project Date:       Week 4, Day 6

It’s always fascinating when data is set into a grid what patterns tend to emerge and what questions they engender. It was enough for me to have this much information, but I was making mental notes to ask things when they became appropriate. Number one on my list is “Where are the dads?” Number two: What was happening on the Island in 1958?

[GETTING AHEAD OF SELF. REARRANGE THE PARAGRAPHS LATER. -CW]

We had our second cram school class meeting today. I got some nice pushback from the 2^nd-generation natives here. Nice. I hate compliant classrooms. It’s what I thought I had on my hands when I finally bullied them into my seating chart.  If you just blurred your eyes and forgot about it being 110 degrees in the shade here, they looked like any Los Angeles classroom full of Asian Americans with ancestry from any Confucian culture, acting out a preordained script of obedience to parents, teachers, and elders, edging toward high status through the path of education.

I knew that drill so well because that was me decades ago. Get good grades, get into a good college, get a good job, make a good living. Don’t cause trouble, don’t stand out. Trouble was that if your name was something like Wong, Yamashita, Tran, or Kim, you did stand out, so you have to hunch down even more and dial back the ego almost to zero to adhere to the imperative of not standing out.

Jimmy Castillo and Jimmy Cruz, the Filipino “bruthaz” in my high school crew of nine Asian boys that hung out intentionally NOT making trouble, seem to get a pass on the business of being a grade grind. Their parents were so much less uptight. The Confucian scholars never got around to sending missionaries down to the Philippines to set up schools. But, both the Jimmies definitely had Chinese blood in them. The Chinese scholars may not have made it to Manila, but I guess the Chinese sailors DID, and were successful in propagating other things. I haven’t thought about those guys in years. A reunion softball game would be nice, but we’d be short a man. Paul Tanimoto’s been dead for years. Wonder how many of us are left?

But that’s the difference here. These girls and their families were never the minority. Chinese appears to have been the prestige race here. And then there’s the “princess” thing. It doesn’t seem like an advantage when everyone has the same title. And since Feng put me in my place, I remain a beleaguered minority—an undesirable alien worker. A resource for her to exploit. I don’t blame her. That’s the way this world works no matter what country you’re in. She’s a good, no I take that back, an excellent Darwinian mother.

I got through my lesson plan of introducing the types of questions on a standardized test.  I made up some homework assignment off the top of my head and sent them on their way home to dinner.  I was planning to complete three lesson plans in advance and then ask Sally for some assistance. After that, I was planning to stay at the lab, eat one of my MRE rations, and play computer solitaire in peaceful solitude until the electricity went off.

And then the girls came back feeling like they needed to tell me things about themselves. Wen handed an assignment I had given her to compile the responses to my student information survey homework assignment. All their mothers were the same age—the EXACT same age. These needed some follow up and I decided now was the time to ask while they were in a sharing mood. Not telling how short that would last.

     “Good work Wen. All your mothers have a birth year of 1958. Is that a mistake?”

     “No, that’s right,” Wen assured.

     “So, . . . you all have different mothers. Are any of you half-sisters?”

     “No,” said Linda.

     “Are any of your mothers sisters? Looks like we have some twins in there with all the 1958 birthdates.”

     “No,” said Linda.

     “So some of your mothers are sisters-in-law to each other?”

     She had to think a minute. “No. None of them have sisters, otherwise they would be here. A few have married brothers, but none of those men are married to any of our mothers, which is what would make them sisters- in-law.”

     “So none of you are related to each other? This is unheard of in an Island genealogy!”

     “No,” said Newton. “Ling, that is Linda, never said that. We are all cousins to one another. Our mothers are all cousins to one another also.”

     “You did say you’re all descended from the Island’s founder. How far back was that?”

     “Oh toward the earlier part of the Qing Dynasty,” said Xiaomei.  “That’s five or six centuries ago.”

     “So you’re only distant cousins. This is complicated,” I said.

     “We are not so distant and it not so complicated,” said Wen. “All of us here have a one great-great-grandmother and great-great-grandfather in common.”

     “Hm. Well then, it makes it convenient for me to just call them, your mothers, ‘The Cousins.’”

     “We’re cousins too,” said Jie. “Won’t that be confusing?”

     “I think I’ll call all you guys ‘The Daughters.’”

     “By the way,” said Wen, “If you ever hear our mothers talking about “The Tiny Empress of the Numinous Moon” that would be our great-great-grandmother.”

     “Such a colorful name,” I said.

     “It’s shorter in Chinese. We all have her small stature; she was under five feet,” said Wen. “But unlike us, she was very pale, like the moon, and like the moon, her face was cratered because she survived smallpox as a child, just like one of the Qing emperors I’m told. But she was nevertheless considered quite beautiful though otherworldly. Her pock marks apparently occurred in a symmetrical pattern. There are a few pictures of her where you can kind of see it, sort of like a spiral, but none are on the Island right now.”

I stopped the conversation there and I decided to call it a night and returned home with Ling. When we all sat down to dinner outside, Lee asked me how the class went. I mentioned it was just an introduction and some preliminaries. That seemed to satisfy her until Ling decided to provide further info.

     “Professor Wong gave me a new name today, ‘Linda,’ just for the classroom.”

     Lee looked like she had choked on something.  Here eyes narrowed at me. “A name? Did you say a NAME?”

     “I’m running an American-style classroom, so I’ve given them all American names.”

     “You cannot just give my daughter a name! HOW DARE YOU. Take it back.”

     “Lee, what are you worked up about?”

     Lee stood up. “A name is extremely important. To name someone puts a claim on them.”

     Clete stood up. “What kind of superstitious shit is that?”

     “This is not superstition.”

     “I’ll have you know that in many cultures it is customary for a master to give his apprentice a student name.  Their peers give each other names too.”

     “Ling is NOT your apprentice.”

     “Then why did you send her there this afternoon?”

     “I didn’t send her. They were all told to go.”

     “Pull her out then.”

     “Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter!”

     “Hey, sorry, but did you notice? She’s all grown up! You’re not raising her anymore. I’m told that even Qin Qin is an adult here. You need to let go. That’s a real problem here isn’t it?”

    “Don’t you tell me what I know about my own people.”

    “Somebody needs to. You can’t seem to spot inconsistencies in your arguments.”

    “Stop using such big words on me. It’s rude to do so. I’ll start talking to you in Chinese.”

    “Ask her quit my class then. I only want willing students.”

    “She wants to be there. I don’t know why.”

And so we just stood there staring at each other for a long time. Then Ling spoke up.

     “Mother. I’m fine with it. Really,” said Ling. “It’s a nice name. Can you both calm down?”

     “I’m sitting down now,” I said. “You should too.” We sat.

     “What does this name, Linda, mean?” asked Lee. She put food in my rice bowl as she asked this. She never bothered to ask if I wanted more. But she was never wrong about my appetite.

     “It comes from the Spanish. It means ‘pretty girl.’”

     Heavy sigh of resignation. “So superficial. You should have named her something that means ‘smart girl.’”

     “I still don’t know what you’re so upset about. I picked that one because it practically sounds the same as her given name. What does ‘Ling’ mean?’” I asked.

     “It means ‘clever,’” said Lee.

     “I’ve never felt very clever,” said Ling, “it would have suited Qin Qin or Ba more than me.”

     “In my experience, a woman can have more than one nature—and often does—even from minute to minute,” I said. “I’m sure you have your clever moments.”

     “So do you think I’m a pretty girl then, Dr. Wong?”

     “If I didn’t, I would NOT have given you that name. You’re beautiful, but a piece of advice?”

     “Yes?”

     “Don’t ever ask a man if he thinks you’re pretty. Or I should say, an American man. It’s troublesome for them to know how to answer.”

     “Not know how to answer?” said Lee. “It’s either ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

     “That’s how American men think and how they answer, but if they say ‘no’ they get into trouble for being truthful. And if they say ‘yes’ the girl thinks he’s just saying it to make her happy.”

     “Then,” said Lee, “men should just ALWAYS say ‘yes.’”

     “Yes, but the girl always wants to BE objectively pretty. And she wants to hear it from the man she has asked. And she wants him to believe it. And she wants to believe that he believes it. So just don’t ask him that question. I really forces him to reevaluate the relationship every time he’s asked. But maybe the woman wants that. Oh. I just remembered the third standard answer that REALLY gets a guy in trouble.”

     “And?” asked Lee.

     “It’s ‘Compared to what?’”

     “I am thinking of the expression you use all the time?” said Lee, “Americans are all fucked up.”

     “Like YOU don’t have your own kooky rules here? Anyway Ling, asking me if you’re pretty is like asking your Dad. I’ll always say you’re beautiful because I believe it. But since you know I’m always going to say yes, you will devalue it.”

     “You are NOT her daddy!” said Lee. “Stop imposing yourself where you do NOT belong!”

     “I didn’t say I was her daddy!”

     “Mother! Professor! Please don’t start again.”

     “Fair enough,” I said. I thought to take advantage of all the heightened emotion swirling in the air and ask about Ling’s father thinking I might not get the usual evasion, but I decided to take a different tack. “But, do you mind my acting like your dad while I’m here, Linda? I’ve never had a grown daughter before.”

     She laughed. “That would be fine, . . . Daddy,” she giggled. “It would be fun to have a daddy for a while. I’ve never had a father either.” Bingo I thought.

     Lee’s mouth dropped open. “STOP this right now! Why do you keep coming up with ideas that you go off and do on our own? This is not at all proper.”

     “Lee, you’re starting to get tiresome. Do you even know how to smile? Being so fixated on proper behavior is more obscene and inefficient than breaking rules of politeness now and then.”

     A big huff. “By the Water God! Now he uses the words ‘obscene’ and ‘inefficient’and now what? Are we going to have a long argument on what they mean? It’s the same every night with you! I do not want to think that much. I think you should ask the Security Council to assign you another liaison. You are turning my beautiful black hair gray.”

     “Not a chance, Lee. I’m sticking with you.”

     “Why?”

    “My dad always liked to quote the guy who said: ‘Keep your friends close and keep your enemies even closer.’ I want you right next to me. AND . . . I do agree that your black hair is beautiful.”

     “Oh shut up and finish eating. I only have to put with you for nine more weeks.” She was more or less silent after that. I expected her to ask whether she was a friend or an enemy. Depending on the day, I’m never sure myself. But I remember what my colleagues in the defense industry tell me, that having a good enemy always makes you a better engineer.”

* * *

After eating and cleaning up after ourselves, I looked at my watch and was pretty sure it was still inside of business hours back in L.A. and placed a call to the office. Whether it was or not, Sally picked up.

     “Sally, things sailing along like they should?”

     “Yeah, the world hasn’t fallen apart. The Cardiff project is now online and producing. Looking pretty fine, if only the price of oil would go back up.”

     “No worries there. That will happen. She can run at partial capacity for years and still break even. Hey, that last e-mail I sent you? Listen I need you to do one more thing for me. I want you to find the very best downloadable SAT prep course you can find and have it downloaded on all five of my laptops. I’ll leave them in remote activation mode. You’ve got the passwords and full access. I need something operational ASAP. Call my contact in recruitment at the university if you need some guidance on selection. I think her name is Elsa, Elsa Hwang. H-W-A-N-G, pronounced 'Wong.'”

     “No problem Doc. You thinking of going back to school and getting another bachelor’s degree then?”

     “Ha ha. I got a buncha tenth grade dropouts who could use some help here.”

     “Need anything else?”

     “Yeah, I need you to buy a few things, which is easy enough, but the trick is going to be getting them to me. Check the list I just sent you.”

     “Got it right here. Can’t we just get a messenger with a fast boat?”

     “Too much red tape with the local government and deliveries only come every eight weeks. I got an idea though. My buddy Ted is looking for a live test for some of his technology. I might have a proposition for him.”

     “You mean the guy with the startup that’s messing around with freight drones?”

      “Ted Wang. That’s my boy. That's W-A-N-G, pronounced 'Wong.'”

      “Chief, I’ve been reading your journal entries.”

      “I had no idea you took an interest in chemical analysis.”

     “No, I’m talking about the personal journal entries. The dailies. It’s very interesting.”

     “Hey. Isn’t that like reading someone’s diary?”

     “Damn straight. God yeah. That’s why it’s so interesting. What do you make of all these women and girls living alone there? Is it some kind of convent or cult? Do you think they’re going to burn you in a big straw man at the end of summer and maybe eat your gonads in a pie? Or from what I can tell, probably a house combination stir-fry?”

     “Racist bitch.”

     “Remember I’m one-quarter Chinese.”

     “Self-loathing is the license for racial pejoratives. Gotta remember that. Don’t wave your ethnicity at me. As if being Chinese actually gets you anything in America. It’s the most common ancestry in the world when you think about it. It’s like thinking you’re special because you breathe air. Work the Latina side. That’s where all the smart money is going.”

     “Shut up. Listen. Chief, be careful. Really. It seems sketchy. They sound weird. Like B-movie psycho-bitch weird. Weren’t you ordered to stay away from them?”

     “I’m trying. But it’s easier said than done.”

     “I got my theories as to what’s going on there.”

     “This is gonna be good.”

     “No really. Theory one, you’ve been put on ‘The Isle of St. Bordello, the Love Island.’ They take on all comers.”

     “Island of whores? Nah. They’re all too clean, polite, and shy.”

     “It’s an act! Maybe it’s a high-class geisha thing.”

     “You’ve never met middle-aged whores.”

     “And you have?”

     “You’d be surprised who I know in this business. Whores look a lot more worn-out than these farm women—they’re weathered here, but not worn-out.”

     “So they’re retired. I’m talking about the young ones.”

     “Well, you have a point there. But no, I don’t see it. Fisherman work the bay once in a while and passing shippers take on water and vegetables, but no men are ever allowed to come on land.”

     “Cause they can’t afford to pay?”  Her comment had me imagining men coming onto the Island to screw everyone in sight. The thought made me viscerally angry. I didn’t know why. I tried to imagine Lee as a whore, even as a young woman, and I could not. She is attractive, yet possesses so disagreeable a personality that I couldn’t imagine any boner she couldn’t kill. Now on the other hand, she has the aura of your classic madam or “mama-san,” but she’d never pimp her own daughter Ling. Shit, she didn’t even like me giving her a classroom name.

     “Let’s hear number two,” I said.

     “OK. This is the hideout for some roving bad guys like pirates or terrorists. All the men and boys are off on a mission to topple some government. Maybe they all got killed or incarcerated or they’re just late coming home. These could their wives or their sex slaves.”

     “That’s actually not an unreasonable theory. I can’t imagine that Earth Dragon Institute would do business with such an outlaw state.”

    “Hello! They’re bad guys! They would lie! Right? Maybe they’re really good at it.”

    “The only thing that kills that theory is that there is no evidence of absent males. Men who go to sea have sheds and places that they put their stuff. Trophies. Tools. Unfinished projects they work on. There’s none of that that I have seen.”

     “It’s just all hidden. You haven’t seen the whole place right?”

     “True. Let’s hear number three.”

     “My little brother had a comic book with a story in it about a place where they were like praying mantises. After the man has sex with a woman, she kills him and eats him to nourish the baby.”

     “What the fuck? What idiocy. With as many resources as it take to raise a human male to maturity that makes no biological sense. That SF writer needs to go back to the drawing board.”

     “It’s a natural population check. Think of it. If people were like that we wouldn’t have global warming going, our own tool of species suicide.”

     “Now you’re just baiting me cause I dig up oil.”

     “Maybe, but they are weird. What religion are they?”

     “Kind of Chinese folk religion, but very syncretic as far as I can tell. A little bit of everything.  Reminds me, I’ve got to make visit to their shrine. Good politics you know.”

     “Promise me you’ll be careful. I want you to come back. Don’t become the ‘Burning Man’ sacrifice, OK?”

     “No worries. So, when do you think you'll get all that stuff together?”

     “I’m on it. I’ll go to the drugstore right this weekend and then to the sportswear websites. Chief?”

     “What is it?”

     “If you get horny for these Island girls, don’t fall for it.”

     “What makes you say that?”

     “I don’t know. Your writing. You are writing very detailed descriptions of the mothers you’ve met. Body parts. Faces. Expressions. How they move.”

     “I’m just trying to document things so I can remember them later.”

     “You want to know what I think? That Lum chick sounds ready to pop you into the sack at the drop of her big-ass conical hat. Does she really wear one of those things? I thought that kind of thing was only seen in Hollywood rice paddy scenes. And the girl you’ve been giving cigarettes? All you have to do is ask…”

     “You have NO idea how off the mark you are.”

     “Hot tubbing with a gal in the nude? Is that the mark you're talking about?”

     “They have bathing ritual practices here.”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Even in Japan, pervert capital of the world, they keep the boys away from the girls in baths.”

     “I get what your telling me, but they give off the vibe of married women, strange as that may seem. But all your vicious comments tell me more about your sexual frustration than theirs. Get your boyfriend to take you to Vegas for a weekend. You’re the itchy one.”

     “Is that an order? Does that mean I can put it on the company credit card?"

     "Go fuck yourself."

     "You surmised yourself that that's not working. Start taking pictures of the people there. The only pictures you upload are rocks! No people? Boring.”

     “You want people? Go work for an anthropologist or a medical missionary.”

     “Speaking medical, that's another reason to keep your pants on. Who knows what sailors drop by going port to port and what biological artifacts they’ve left? You probably didn’t pack protection did you? There’s no corner Rite-Aid either.”

     “I have no kind of polite response to that.”

     “Promise me you’ll come back and marry me first. You’ll save money not having to bribe the ICE officials. And I’m 15 years younger! I can wear a sarong if you want. I can look really cute. Even a modest divorce settlement from you will set me up for life.”

     “You really know how to make a guy feel attractive. But forget it. I don’t shit where I eat. I never get involved with coworkers. Least of all, subordinates.”

     “Well, I’ll . . . I’ll quit then.”

     “No you won’t. If you resign I’ll just give you a big raise and you won’t be able to go.”

     “Why don’t you just give me a big raise now?”

     “Nope. Doesn’t work that way. You have to quit first. That’s the way it works with me. You oughta know that by now.”

     “That’s no fair! You’re keeping me chained to this crappy dead-end job!”

     “You like it only because I pay you what you’re worth. You goddamned gold-digger, but you’re at least transparent. If you want to make money off of me, you don’t have to marry me. Just buy a share in my next drilling project.”

     “But that means I have to put money at risk. And half of them don’t pay off. Can’t you just give me 5% in Cardiff as my raise?”

     “Cardiff? NOBODY gets in on that one unless they ante’d in at the start. That one is my retirement plan. It’s not a gold mine literally, but it’s pretty damn close.”

     “Like you need a retirement plan! You’re just going to pick up your Social Security check and walk to the diner everyday until you finally give out. At least make me your live-in buying agent and I’ll get you out of the house now and then.”

     “Cardiff is a winner, BUT, it’s going to fund my next 20 projects. Get in on one of those. I’ll extend a goddamned business loan! But you HAVE to risk.”

     “Can I help it if it’s easier to open my heart than to open my purse?”

     “Open your LEGS is more like it.”

     “Ooo. That hurt.”

     “I’ve heard it only hurts if you’re a virgin.”

     “I’m suing for sexual harassment!”

     “Your precious sensibilities. You’ve had three husbands and you’re not even 40! Two went start-to-finish in the time you’ve worked for me, I might add. Come to think of it, I want a refund on that last wedding present I gave you.”

     “Chief! How gauche! Besides. You bought us the honeymoon trip to Maui. You can’t repossess travel.”

     “Enjoy the sexual harassment countersuit. I’ve saved all your e-mails just for this occasion. My lawyer needs to do something for the retainer.”

     “Well then it’s settled. I’m going to plan our first date when you get back. I’ll buy YOU dinner at your favorite Denny’s, the tightwad special.”

     “Some unsolicited advice? You’re way too high maintenance. You might actually keep a man around if you learned your way around a frying pan.”

     “Don’t’ start. You sound like my father. Hey? What’s making you loosen up your wallet for these little girls? Do you know how many tens of thousands it’ll cost to get this what, 800 bucks of stuff to you?”

     “It’s always so charming and uplifting to chat with you, Sal. There’s something else. My optometrist is making up a pair of glasses for a little girl here. That HAS to be in the payload otherwise don’t bother.”

     “That’s Dr. Rose Huang right?"
     "Yep. That's  H-U-A-N-G, pronounced 'Wong.'"
     "By the way, do you EVER do business with anyone who doesn’t have the same last name as you?”

     “Shut up! Ms. GARCIA-SMITH. Make sure the frame looks plain. Like the other dime-store glasses.”

      “Chief, snap a picture of the schoolgirls next to you so I get a sense of their size.”

      “Got it. But the hint here is extra small.”

      “And take some pictures of these older women. I want to see who I’m up against.”

      “Read all about in the Wong Daily Post.  I’m going to send you a bill for your subscription. You lurker troll! Since I know you're reading, I'll make the lies even bigger.”

      “Jerk. Signing off. One of us needs to do some real work.”

 © 2012 Copyright Vincent Way, all rights reserved.