‘Heartless!’ Leo’s mother added. ‘To lose your home when you’re old …’
As if she could not bear the sadness of the conversation, she left to return to the kitchen, apron still tied to her waist.
Dinner was simple. They were the kind of family who would not cook anything special for the festival. Still, it was a big meal, with two meat and two vegetable dishes, along with a soup. Usually, Leo’s parents would only have one dish for dinner, and never more than two, for fear of wasting food. His father did not like to eat leftovers, so if they did not finish this meal, his mother would be eating the rest of it for the next three days, steaming and re-steaming the food until either she had eaten everything or it had disintegrated into a pile of inedible mush.
‘Are you living with your family?’ Leo’s mother asked Jia Jia at the dinner table.
‘I live in an apartment by myself. Near his bar.’ She turned her head briefly and smiled at Leo.
‘Rent must be high over in that area,’ his father noted.
‘Thankfully, I own the apartment,’ Jia Jia said.
Leo’s parents were surprised. They both, as if rehearsed, put down their bowls and looked at Jia Jia, waiting for her to elaborate.
‘It is my husband’s apartment. He’s gone now,’ Jia Jia said, mirroring his parents’ actions and setting her own bowl on the table.
‘Oh,’ Leo’s mother said abruptly.
‘I see,’ said his father, hastening with the game expression Leo had seen so many times. ‘We don’t mind at all. Not only you young people, but my wife and I are also part of the modern generation.’
Leo’s mother reverted her gaze to her chopsticks and resumed eating in silence. Jia Jia’s phone rang. She rushed to the living room and muted it. When she returned, Leo continued the conversation.
‘We met at my bar,’ said Leo.
‘Have you met her ex-husband too, then?’ his father asked.
‘Yes, he has,’ Jia Jia responded.
Again, almost in sync, both Leo’s parents leaned back in their chairs. The table fell silent for a moment, and his father’s eyebrows contracted, as if he was trying to crack a difficult problem.
‘Must have been a decent man to find a good girl like yourself,’ he finally said, giving a forced smile. Leo’s mother nodded.
Leo took a deep breath. He was relieved that his parents were processing the news of Jia Jia’s previous marriage, and surprisingly well. It was not them, he told himself, but the generation before theirs that stuck to their feudal ways of thinking. He was astounded by how swiftly his parents seemed to have adapted, how their principles were edging away from the conservative, the outdated. He felt proud of his scholarly parents for their tolerance.
After dinner, Leo told Jia Jia that he wanted to stay to wait for the New Year countdown.
‘Have you been to Europe? Or America?’ Leo’s father asked Jia Jia as he stored his new carton of cigarettes in the drawer beneath the television.
‘I used to visit Europe quite often with my husband,’ Jia Jia said. ‘Mostly France and Italy. But I’ve only been to America once. I prefer Europe – the museums and art galleries are always inspiring.’
‘Are people afraid there?’ asked his father. ‘I mean, of terrorism, like all these attacks I’m hearing of. I get the feeling that Europeans just go on with their lives.’
‘I’m not sure, I don’t think—’
Leo’s father yelled to his wife: ‘Stop doing stuff, come and join the children for a bit! Bring the snacks Old Li gave us!’ He spun back to face Leo and Jia Jia. ‘My friend brought some snacks back from England. I remember when we first went to London, a long time ago, we were such idiots back then. We were poor, those days we had it much worse, so you’re lucky. When we saw tinned pet food, we thought those were cans of dog- and cat-meat. It was the cheapest food so that’s what we ate! Oh, it was disgusting. And who would’ve thought that British people sold pet food in supermarkets!’ His father laughed, briefly choking on his own saliva.
Leo’s mother, having wrapped all the food with plastic and left it out to cool, finally reappeared in the living room and joined the conversation.
‘Come, I was telling them about our trip to London years ago,’ Leo’s father told his wife, still coughing.
‘Oh, yes, yes, we didn’t have the same privileges you have nowadays.’
‘My mother used to tell me similar stories as well,’ Jia Jia said with a smile on her face.
Jia Jia had never mentioned her parents to Leo. He studied her as she started talking about her mother travelling to Xi’an, to Guizhou, to Chengdu in the eighties. She wore a sombre expression, eyes a little watery like white jade. From the way she told the stories it seemed as though the memories of her mother were fractional and incomplete, but she recounted her experiences without a single mention of her father. Sometimes she paused, looking about the room, as if questioning the accuracy of her recollections.
As Jia Jia spoke, a feeling began to descend on Leo with the relentlessness of June rains. He was now the outsider at this gathering, unable to interrupt the conversation. Why was she sharing so much with his parents? Why was she going on and on, story after story, like an enthusiastic busker narrating tales to children? Jia Jia kept telling the stories, way out of her usual character, in dramatic waves of joy and grief.
And then she was telling them that her husband died three months ago. Leo watched as his parents lost their smiles, and exchanged an unsubtle look of shock. The topic had come up when his mother asked Jia Jia who she had travelled with on her last trip to France, whether it had been her mother or her husband.
‘My husband,’ Jia Jia responded. ‘That was our last trip together. We were supposed to go to Sanya last year, but he died.’
‘What happened?’ his mother asked, gasping.
Jia Jia shook her head. ‘I’m not sure.’
Leo observed his parents cautiously, trying to decipher their reactions to another piece of unexpected news. But the pair sat in silence frowning down at the pile of British snacks.
Jia Jia’s phone rang again.
‘It’s my aunt,’ she told Leo. ‘Probably calling to send her holiday greetings.’
As Jia Jia stood, Leo’s parents looked up from the sofa and forced an awkward smile. His mother kept fidgeting with her sleeves. Jia Jia excused herself and stepped outside the apartment.
‘Son,’ his father said when the door had clicked shut. He rubbed his knees, straightened his posture, and took a deep breath. ‘A widow is bad luck.’
‘Your father is right,’ his mother said.
‘That’s outdated thinking,’ Leo said.
‘I’ve seen some women from my home town who married two or three men who all died within a few years. Some women just bring bad luck to men,’ his father said.
‘Ba, you’re a scientist.’
‘She’s a great girl, but this …’ his mother muttered, tapping her hands on her knees. ‘What a New Year …’
‘You’re our only son,’ his father said. ‘Have you ever noticed that some people just have negativity around them? All their friends and circles have misfortunes. Ever noticed that?’