The Price of Tea

Shanghai Surprise

On a roll here...

***

Shanghai Surprise

I don’t think it’s a secret, but I never really thought I’d ever get married, let alone have kids. I somehow ended up with a husband, whom I adore, and two fabulous kids. Let’s call it one of life’s little surprises.

After Grace and Willy were born one year and four days apart, I figured we did our duty for humankind: I replaced myself, Rob replaced himself – with a namesake, no less – and that was that. And, I’d been pregnant and/or breastfeeding for two years straight. I’d had enough.  

Besides, not to brag or anything, but Grace and Willy were seriously like the best babies ever. I thought for sure I was screwed after Grace turned out to be so easy, but Willy was easier than her. No way could I ever have another kid…my luck surely would have run out on the gentle natured-ness of children - especially considering the gene pool.

Rob straggled into the house after a long flight and dumped his suitcases on the floor. The kids accosted him and said, in unison, “What did you bring me?” Benny peed on the floor, barely missing Rob’s foot. Xiao Li scurried off to get the mop.

I ransacked his suitcase for the pee tests I’d asked him to bring me, while the kids got reacquainted with their dad. After Rob mentioned he thought I could be pregnant, I’d made daily trips to the drug store on the hunt for a pee test. I got the same irritating response each day. “Jin tian, mei you. Ming tian you.” (Today no have. Tomorrow have). Except tomorrow never had.

I uncovered a year’s supply of Children’s Tylenol and Gummy Vites before I found 3 Sam’s Club packs of E.P.T. tests.

“One probably would’ve been enough,” I laughed.

“Well, ya never know.”

I suppose.

Rob doled out the trinkets he’d brought the kids and I ran to the toilet. I’d already drunk my weight in water in anticipation of Robby’s return, so I was more than ready to open the floodgates.

The following is NOT an exaggeration. If you’ve ever taken a pee test, you may think I’m exaggerating. I assure you, if there is one part of the book that is based on 100% straight up fact and zero hyperbole, this is it.

Within fifteen seconds, not kidding, fifteen seconds that all-telling hot pink stripe was staring me in the face. I practically burned a hole in the thing like I was peeing laser beams.

No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO! NO!

“Honey?” I whimpered.

There was no answer.

“Honey?” I said, but my voice was still weak.

There was still no answer. He probably couldn’t hear me over the kids’ excitement to have their Daddy home after three long weeks with a very crabby Mommy.

“HONEY!?” Just as I screamed for him, he poked his head into the bathroom. Unable to speak, I handed him the stick.

“Well, what does it mean?”

“Take a guess.”

“Positive?”

“I guess some people would consider it ‘positive’.”

This could explain a few things…

***

Dr. Wang was a miniature woman. She looked like one of those tiny old women I’d seen on the street who still wore the tattered Mao grays leftover from the Cultural Revolution, except she studied and practiced Gynecology and Obstetrics in the US for twenty five years. I learned that she had recently moved back to China to retire. Easing her way into retirement, she worked a few shifts a week at the International Hospital in Xin Tian Di helping nervous expat ladies deliver babies in China.

She looked at my chart. “It says here you’re pregnant.”

“Uh, yeah…I had a positive pee test...yesterday.”

We discussed my gynecological history. I explained to her that I’d had an ectopic pregnancy and lost my left fallopian tube, but had two successful pregnancies after that.

“Wow, you’re fertile.”

“Apparently.”

“Well, we need to do an ultrasound right away since you have an ectopic pregnancy in your history. We have to make sure this baby is in the right spot.” She patted herself on the belly. “Follow me and we’ll get it done today.” She stood up, smoothed her lab coat and marched out the door.

I shuffled behind her, my head hung low. I ignored my surroundings, eyes fixed on the industrial tiled floor.

I followed her through two sets of double doors and into a darkened ultrasound room. A cheerful technician swiveled around in her chair as we entered the room. She apparently didn’t speak any English, aside from “Hello,” because the next five minutes of conversation was conducted in Chinese.

I stripped down and took my spot on the bed while they talked…and talked in a language I couldn’t understand.

The conversation ceased and they went to work on my ultrasound. The tech squeezed some goo on my belly and Dr. Wang said, “This will feel a little cold.”

I know the drill.

The tech did her thing and I simply stared at the industrial tiled ceiling.

After a few minutes, the tech erupted in conversation. Dr. Wang hustled around the bed and took the ultrasound wand from the tech. She moved it around and pointed at the screen.  Both women smiled gleefully and chattered in high pitched squeals.

What’s the fuss ladies?

I looked away from the ceiling and caught eye contact with Dr. Wang. She pointed at the screen and said, “There’s two babies in here…see?”

For a moment my mind was blank.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Both ladies looked at me funny, like no woman had ever dropped the ‘F’ bomb after hearing she was going to have twins.

You're Just the Wife - Part 2

This is a continuation from yesterday's post. One of the hard parts about writing memoir is that you have to lay it all out there...even if it makes you look like a fool. Or a rabid dog.  Either way, the following is part of the story, so, here it is.

***

Defeated, I climbed into the back of my Toyota Corolla, rested my head against the window and said, “Hui Jia.”

You’re just the wife. The truth hurts.

Those four words cut me to my core. Those four words were exactly what my life had been reduced to. Why did it take a clerk in a bank to make me realize what was wrong with me?

Before this big Chinese adventure of ours Robby and I were a brilliant team. True partners. We worked for the same company. Though I was in marketing and he was in manufacturing, we still stole moments to be with each other every day. If he’d had a bad day, it went without saying that I took over the household chores and vice versa. And, if we both had fine days, we cooked dinner together, played with the kids together, did the dishes together, watched TV together and went to bed together. We were always together.

Now, we weren’t. Now he went to work, the kids went to school and I was just the wife. This probably explained why a few short months before - out of the blue - I asked him if he wanted to have a baby. I never wanted to have a baby. I wanted to feel needed.  Could I have been any more of a cliché? There’s bound to have been a made-for-TV movie about having kids for all the wrong reasons.

***

“Mommy?”

I opened my heavy eyelids. Grace and Willy were hovering over me. My room was dark.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. We just got home from school. We were worried. You didn’t come down to pick us up,” Grace said.

“Shit. Oh, I’m so sorry, Guys. I’m just so tired. Let’s get you a snack.” I climbed out of bed and every inch of my body burned from exhaustion. As I prepared their snacks a wave of nausea sent me running for the trashcan. I dry heaved into the trashcan, but when I finished the nausea was gone and I felt slightly better.

What the hell was that?

I sat down at the table with the kids. It occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten anything all day, which was weird because I wasn’t hungry – at all.

Maybe I have the stomach flu?

Then the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” the person at the other end of the phone said. Then she struggled to say the English words, “Your neighbor is complain about the children’s toys in the common area.”

“What?”

She struggled to repeat herself. “The neighbor is complain…”

I cut her off. “I heard you, I just don’t understand….you know what, forget it.” I hung up the phone and sat quietly breathing yoga-style - in through my nose and out from my mouth – to try and quell the rage I could feel building inside of me.

Tired of tripping over bikes and scooters, we’d put them out in the common foyer area once our neighbor’s four month renovation was finally completed. I’d done a recon throughout the building to make sure it wouldn’t break any rules. Nearly every floor, out of 30, had bikes, baby strollers, etc. in the common area, so, out they went.

I sat there silently steaming, trying my best to remain calm. I tried calling Robby, but he didn’t answer. It was only 3 AM Colorado time.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” asked Grace.

“Nothing,” I snapped. “Just eat your snack and do your homework.”

“OK,” she said, her eyes drooped in sadness for getting yelled at for no reason.

Once the kids were settled in with their homework, I got up from the table, calmly opened the front door and approached my neighbor’s apartment. I stood on a little black floor mat that said, “Welcome” in English. A delicate red and gold ornament hung on their door. I knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. I crouched down on the ground and looked under the door. There was someone standing right by the door. I stood up and knocked again, but there was still no answer.

“I know you’re in there. I can see your feet.”

After a moment, the door cracked open and an Asian face appeared in the partial opening.

“Did you call the management office about my kids’ bicycles?” I asked, pointed at the material in question.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Mmm-Kay…you are aware that the first 4 months we lived here this common area was like a war zone?”

She opened the door and stepped out. She was an attractive woman in her mid-40s; she was tiny and very slight, almost fragile.

“Yes…I-I am so sorry about the mess. I know the workers…”

“I don’t wanna talk about the workers…I wanna talk about the fact that there were days that our door was barricaded shut, the fire extinguisher couldn’t be reached, the emergency exit was inaccessible because of the SHIT you had in this common area…and now….now you’re calling and tattle-taling on us because of a couple kids’ bikes…When every other common area in this building has bicycles in it!”

“Yes, well, my husband…he sometimes has very important clients and it looks unprofessional…”

“Unprofessional?”

“Well, you see, we spent $800,000 US dollars on this renovation and my husband… he wants it to be nice. This is our home. You know. We are not just living here. This is our home.”

“Yeah, well, you made it impossible for us to ever feel like we’re at home.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Go fuck yourself!” I said, then I turned and put a bike on each arm and a scooter in each hand, stormed into my apartment and slammed the door in her face.

What the hell is wrong with me?

***

After I’d tucked the kids in that night, Robby called at his regularly scheduled time to tuck the kids in from afar. After their chat, I said good night one last time and told Rob about the events of the day.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked.

“Awful. It was the worst day in China yet.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, Dude, but there is something wrong with me. I am seriously losing my shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I finally got some money at the bank because this western lady told me not to take no for an answer…she told me I had to kick and scream until they gave me my money.”

“So what’d you do?”

“I kicked and screamed…and ended up taking out a cash advance on the credit card.”

“Oh-kay, good. So you have enough cash…I’ll be home in five days.”

“Yeah, I should be all set…but that’s not all?”

“What?”

“I think I fucked up…with the neighbors…I snapped…worse, I came unhinged.”

“Whaddya mean?”

I re-told the story.

“Jesus, Jennifer…”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what is wrong with me. I feel like my blood is boiling all the time, like my head is going to explode. And I’m sick. I’ve been puking…dry heaving really because I haven’t eaten anything.

“Extreme exhaustion, irrational emotions, puking…sounds to me like you’re pregnant.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Seriously…that’s what it sounds like.”

“That would be impos…well, almost impossible.”