We decided to go to Shanghai to spend Christmas with him in that amazing city. Luckily Sophie would be able to join us. The visit would allow Li to return to Qingdao and respect the tradition of kowtowing before Niang’s grave on the one-year anniversary of her death, as well as to pay his respects to Dia and, importantly, for all of us to be together.
We left after the final performance of our annual The Nutcracker and were with Tom and his flatmates the next evening. He lived in the French Concession area and knew his way around already. It was great fun to spend a few days together away from our responsibilities, enjoying the hustle and bustle of this megacity with its old colonial buildings and futuristic skyline, shopping in the markets and dining in smoke-filled restaurants, where it was a thrill to hear Tom ordering in Chinese. It was mind-boggling how China had developed in recent years.
The days raced by, and before we knew it we were heading home to prepare for another year of work and uni. But first there were Li’s connections – always his connections – and a dinner. A dinner that would open a new door, this time a door that would lead Sophie to another journey altogether. A journey that would make my once impossible dream become a bigger reality than any of us could have imagined.
We were all invited to dinner at the swish Ritz-Carlton by an acquaintance of Li’s, Richard Yan, and his Taiwanese wife, Tina. The hotel was right on the Bund and the views over the Huangpu River from the seventieth floor were stunning. Food and wine flowed in abundance and everyone chatted happily in a mix of Chinese and English. Richard seemed particularly interested in Sophie and how she was managing her disability. She was being her usual impressive self when he surprised us by suggesting that she come and work for him in Shanghai. He owned an international leather manufacturing business and said he could see she had a lot to offer.
‘I think you can do more than you think, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I can see you have a good business mind, and I think audiology will only limit you.’
His proposal took my breath away. We didn’t know how to react, but Sophie quickly thanked him politely and simply reaffirmed that helping deaf people was her priority. Richard pointed out that she could still help deaf people even if she wasn’t in the profession, given the good people skills and strong work ethic she evidently had. If she ever changed her mind, he added, he had a job waiting for her. This was most unexpected, and needed a bigger conversation at home in private. For now, Li and I merely showed our appreciation to Richard.
On our return to Brisbane, we were glad to be back at work but there was a lot to think about with Sophie. In fact, she brought up the topic herself.
‘Mum,’ she started, ‘maybe I should just chat to Richard to see what he has in mind for me? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to go to Shanghai for a year and then return if I still want to do the audiology degree in Melbourne.’
I looked at my daughter and marvelled at just how much she was like Li in this aspect – always open to opportunities. I nodded and said, ‘That’s not a bad idea, Sophie, if that is what you want to do. Just do it. It’s your life. I did the same thing at your age, and look where it took me!’
Sophie smiled and said, ‘I’ll talk to Richard.’
Some weeks later, when she was FaceTiming with us, she said, ‘Dad, the more I think about Richard’s offer, the more excited I am. This is a rare opportunity for me. I’m a bit scared but also excited.’
‘What are you scared about, Sophie?’ Li asked.
‘Well, my Chinese isn’t very good. I wish I’d kept it going through uni, to be honest.’
‘Sophie, I reckon what you have learned in high school will get you off to a good start – and there are plenty of people there who speak English,’ I said.
‘I guess so. But, Mum, this is an opportunity for me to improve my ability to speak Dad’s language. I already fit into two worlds – oral and signing – and maybe I can fit into a third.’
‘What are you saying, Sophie?’ I asked, knowing the answer already and looking at Li’s very proud-father face.
‘Mum,’ she began, ‘like you said, you went for it when you were sixteen and flew to the other side of the world, and look what happened. I’m going to go for it. It’s what I want more than anything right now. I don’t know where it will lead, but if I don’t take this opportunity I never will know, will I?’
‘I’m so proud of you, darling’ was all I could say. Here, now, in front of us on our little phone screen, was our daughter having the most meaningful conversation with us. And here was I, lost for words.
With the decision made, Sophie blossomed. She said she had never been happier. Nor had I. Straight away she deferred her university course, sold everything in her rented apartment and came to Brisbane to live with us while she waited for her visa application for Shanghai to be approved. This could take a few weeks, but that was fine by me because it was just sublime to spend a bit more time with her. She was a joy to be with, and we adored having her around, coming to the studio with us, hanging out with Bridie, cooking dinner, sometimes on her computer keeping up with her friends.
Sophie was searching for a career that would be fulfilling. She knew her passion was working within the deaf community, but after four years of working and volunteering, she was starting to get burnt out and the responsibility was heavy. I think perhaps the opportunity to live in Shanghai was a way out or, dare I say, an escape that Sophie had never thought to take before. Even though Shanghai may not offer her the job of her dreams – she still didn’t really know what kind of work she wanted to do – it certainly appealed to what she needed in her life right then: a fresh start.
A month later and still with no visa, Sophie was beginning to have second thoughts. ‘If the visa doesn’t come through, should I go back to Melbourne where there are more job opportunities?’ she asked us.
Li kept saying, ‘Just be patient, Sophie! It’s China. The visa will come.’
Then one night he suggested, ‘Actually, maybe you could start writing down your story?’
I looked at him. What a great idea! I thought Sophie’s story would be so inspirational for young people. And I think she liked the idea too, because just like her father, she loves a project and she was getting restless not having anything to do. I just sat back and sipped my wine.
‘And Sophie, it’s funny,’ I said. ‘When I think about it, I always knew that if I was ever to write my story, I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.’
‘What do you mean, Mum?’
‘Well,’ I revealed, ‘back when Dad’s book was published, Julie Watts suggested I write my story too. She said readers wanted to know what happened to me after your diagnosis, that the few articles and interviews about me didn’t tell the full story. But I told her that I wouldn’t write it unless you wanted it, too.’
I looked at her as I said this. I meant it. Being a mother to Sophie was one of the toughest challenges but also one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. If there was ever to be a second book about our family, it had to come from her – I just wouldn’t do it otherwise. And all that work. Writing! It would be my worst nightmare if I had to do anything with writing.
Sophie nodded. ‘Thanks, Mum. I really appreciate that you didn’t want to write your story without me.’