Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls 2)

Dun smiles wickedly. “He was angry, but there was nothing he could do.” He turns to Z.G. “It’s a good thing you got out.” Then, to Ta-ming, who is eye to eye with Dun in his arms, he says, “I brought you something. Look.” And there on the table next to the telephone is Ta-ming’s violin. “I brought everything with me, not that we need it now. But I have something you might like, Joy.” He goes to a corner and picks up a cardboard tube. “It’s your painting. They said there was no room for your bourgeois thoughts in China.”

Joy takes the tube from his hands and shakes her head in … disbelief? Wonder? Gratitude?

“Where is May?” I ask.

“She’s at the American Embassy. We’ll all need papers, won’t we? She thought she’d get started on that. She’s pretty amazing, that sister of yours.”

We go back outside to wait for May. Maybe we should have taken showers, because we all look ragged, filthy, like the poorest refugees. She won’t be looking for us dressed as we are, but none of us want to risk missing the reunion. We sit on the hotel steps, chatting, happy. Z.G. can’t see very far, but I can tell he’s anxious.

I’m the first to spot May. She’s walking up the hill, her head down, watching where she steps in her improbably high stilettos. She wears a dress with a full skirt, cinched at the waist with a skinny belt, and a short jacket with three-quarter-length sleeves in matching fabric. A funny round hat sits on top of her head. Her pink-gloved hands carry gaily painted shopping bags.

I stand. The others look up at me and then down the street. They let me go forward first. May glances up and sees me. My sister. I thought I’d never see her again. We hurry toward each other and embrace. There’s so much I want to say, but somehow all I can do is extend my arm toward Joy and the baby as they approach. Is this a reunion with a favorite aunt or a favorite mother? As Joy shows Sam to my sister, I know I don’t have to worry about that kind of thing anymore. My daughter will return to Los Angeles knowing she has two mothers who love her.

And then there is Z.G. Joy meets my eyes. Silent communication exists between sisters, but it’s even stronger between mothers and daughters. Joy pulls away and I touch May’s elbow.

“We’ve brought someone else,” I say.

My sister follows my gaze. She sees Dun—a man in an ill-fitting Western-style suit, with his hands balanced protectively on the shoulders of a thin but sweet-faced little boy implausibly holding a violin case. Next to them stands a tall but slim man in grubby clothes, with pants too short, looking a bit like a mole blinded by the light. May’s knees start to buckle, but I hold tight to her elbow to steady her. I walk her the short distance up the hill, hand her to Z.G., and step back. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

When I left for China three years ago, I thought of something my sister once said to me: everything always returns to the beginning. I was returning home to my roots, to the place where I’d been so ruined as a woman, but where I once again discovered the person I was meant to be—a Dragon of great strength and forgiveness. I found my daughter and through sheer force of will—through the fierceness of the Dragon that my mother always warned me about—brought her out of China. I found Joy—and joy with Dun and Ta-ming. Now I’ll return to what I believe is my true home: America. Miracles are everywhere, and as I watch my sister—forever beautiful, forever my little sister—staring into the eyes of the one man she ever loved, I know that indeed things do return to the beginning. The world opens again, and I see a life of happiness without fear. I gaze at my family—complicated though it may be—and know that fate smiles on us.