Helen burst into the house, slamming the door.
"Goodness, child," said her mother, looking up and smiling.
"Do you have to make so much noise?"
Throwing aside her briefcase, Helen ran up to her mother and
threw her arms around her neck. "Ma, I've got some wonderful
news!" she exclaimed, kneeling down in front of her mother. "You
remember I told you about the man I met in college?"
Mrs Chang nodded.
"Well, he asked me to marry him!" Helen said, bouncing on
her knees.
"Oh, Helen, that's wonderful!" said her mother, beaming at
her daughter.
"What's wonderful?" asked Mr Chang, coming in just then.
"Papa, I'm going to get married!" said Helen, moving to his
side.
"Oh?" replied her father. "To who? Anyone we know? Ah, it's
Mr Tan's eldest boy, isn't it? I knew from the start that you and
he would make a fine couple."
"No, Papa," said Helen. "It's -"
"Mrs Hong's middle son, then," her father guessed again.
"No, Papa. You've never met him." Helen smiled, her dark
brown eyes sparkling. Her father's eyebrows raised and he looked
severely at her over the top of his spectacles.
"I've never met him?" he asked suspiciously.
"No, Papa. I met him while I was in the university in
America two years ago. He's been working for the parent company,
but he was transferred here last year and we've been seeing each
other."
"Hmph," responded her father. "These new-fangled notions -
in my day, we did not "see" people behind our parents' backs."
Helen cut him off before he could launch into one of his
"when I was your age" lectures. "Papa, he's very nice. I'm sure
you'll like him."
"Hmph," her father grunted again. "What's his name?"
"Yoshiro Takahashi," said Helen proudly.
Her father's eyebrows came together. "Yoshiro Takahashi," he
repeated slowly. Helen nodded.
"That's a Japanese name," her father continued, looking even
more stern.
"Yes, Papa. He's from Nagasaki," Helen explained.
"You will not marry him," said her father.
Helen's face went pale. "What?"
"You will not marry him," repeated Mr Chang.
"But Papa - why?" Helen stammered.
"Because I forbid it," answered her father.
"Papa - " Helen tried again.
"Enough!" her father cut her off with a curt wave of his
hand. "I will hear no more of this. You will not marry this -
this Japanese -" his lip curled at the word " - and that is
final," said Mr Chang, turning and leaving the room.
Helen turned stricken eyes to her mother. "Ma, what's wrong
with Papa?" she asked.
Mrs Chang shook her head slowly, looking at her daughter
with an almost pitying expression, Helen thought.
"You have to remember, siew hua - your father lived
through the Japanese Occupation," she said.
"The Japanese Occupation? - but that was so long ago!" said
Helen. "More than 50 years ago. What does that have to do with
anything?"
Mrs Chang looked at her daughter. "You must be patient
with your father."
"You don't think there's anything wrong with me marrying
Yoshi, is there?" Helen asked worriedly.
"Little Flower, I have always told you that I will accept
whatever makes you happy," said her mother. "This Yoshi obviously
makes you happy. You have my blessing."
"Could you change Papa's mind?" Helen asked hopefully.
Mrs Chang looked doubtful. "Your father is a very...stubborn
man," she said slowly.
"Well, I think he's being unreasonable," Helen replied. "I
tell you what, Ma - I'll invite Yoshi over for dinner this
weekend. Maybe if Papa gets to know him, he'll come around."
Mrs Chang nodded. Her face still looked worried.
"Come in, Yoshi," said Helen, opening the door. Mrs Chang
stood at the kitchen door, waiting to meet this remarkable young
man who had succeeded in capturing her daughter's heart where
others had failed.
Yoshi stepped into the house and bowed politely to Mrs
Chang. "Hello, Yoshi," said Mrs Chang, smiling.
"I'm very pleased to meet you. Helen has told me so much
about you." Yoshi smiled and bowed again. He was not handsome,
but he had an open, honest face and laugh wrinkles around his
black eyes. "I am very pleased to meet you as well, Mrs Chang,"
he said.
Helen, meanwhile, was looking around. "Ma, where's Papa?"
she asked, her voice tinged with concern and annoyance.
Mrs Chang sighed, "He's in his study."
Click click click. Helen heard the beads of her father's old
abacus collide rapidly as she approached the study door.
"Papa, Yoshi's here," said Helen, standing at the door and
facing her father.
Mr Chang paused in his calculations and looked up at her
with a sour face. "I'm busy," he said, running his fingers over
the black beads again.
"Papa, I want you to meet him," said Helen in a voice just
short of a command. He would not look at her.
Click click click. The beads slid and clashed together
defiantly under his fingers. Helen walked up to him and gently
but firmly took the abacus away from him. Her father grunted and
rose to his feet.
"Yoshi, this is my father," said Helen. Yoshi bowed to the
elderly man and held out a hand.
"It is an honor to meet you, Mr Chang," he said.
Mr Chang looked at him, scowling, refusing to take the young
man's hand. "An honor, is it?" he said. "I know all about your
honor." He said it with plainly audible contempt.
Helen bit her lip. This was not working well. "Let's go in
to dinner!" she said brightly.
"The meal was absolutely delicious, Mrs Chang," said Yoshi,
setting down his chopsticks.
"Thank you, Yoshi," said Mrs Chang.
"What was that vegetable in the soup?" he asked. "It was
very flavorful."
"Those were bamboo shoots, Yoshi," replied Mrs Chang. "They
come from the base of -"
"You don't need to tell him," Mr Chang interrupted. "I'm
sure he knows exactly what a bamboo plant is. His kind knows
these things."
"Papa!" said Helen.
"Don't you, Japanese boy?" asked Mr Chang, turning to the
young man. Yoshi blinked in confusion. "Don't try to look like
you don't know what I'm talking about," said Mr Chang, his eyes
boring into Yoshi's. "Your kind found many uses for the bamboo.
For example - pushing sharp bamboo spikes under innocent people's
fingernails. But I'm sure you know that."
"PAPA!" Helen cried. "Leave him alone."
Mr Chang didn't seem to hear her. Leaning close to Yoshi, he
said, "Your kind is not good enough for my daughter. I want you
to leave my house. Now."
"Papa! - Yoshi, he doesn't mean it," Helen tried to assure
Yoshi, who had gone completely white.
"Don't put words in my mouth," snapped Mr Chang. "I don't
want him in my house. Get out."
Yoshi whispered to Helen, "Maybe I had better leave.
It would be better."
Helen nodded dumbly, her mind whirling. She had never seen
her mild-mannered, soft-spoken father like this before.
"Get out!" shouted her father. "Or must I throw you out
myself?" He got to his feet and slammed his fist on the table.
Yoshi hastily stood up. "If you insist, sir," he said. "Mrs
Chang, thank you for a lovely meal."
"Get out of my house!" shouted the old man again, taking a
step towards Yoshi. Helen stepped between them, ushering Yoshi
towards the door.
"Yoshi, I'm sorry," said Helen as they stood at the front
door. "I had no idea he'd react like that."
"Don't worry, Helen," said Yoshi, touching her cheek
comfortingly, adding, "I'll call you tonight, all right?" Helen
smiled up at him, and waved as he maneuvered his grey Nissan
Sentra out of the driveway.
Then she took a deep breath and counted to ten. She
reentered the house with a firm step.
"Papa, how could you?" said Helen, storming up to her
father. In the thirty seconds it had taken her to get from the
front door to where her father was sitting, she had considered a
number of approaches and decided that the direct method would
work best. "Yoshi was only trying to be nice."
"Nice?" repeated her father bitingly. "His kind doesn't know
how to be...nice. All they know is cruelty and torture. They
haven't got one drop of kindness left in them."
"Papa, that's not true," said Helen. "You had no right to
say such horrible things to him."
"I have every right to say what I want to whoever I want in
my home," answered her father.
"But you shouldn't have treated him so shamefully," Helen
said angrily.
Her father exploded, "Shameful? You dare talk to me
about shame? You are the one who should be ashamed of associating
with a creature like that."
"Yoshi is not a creature!" Helen shouted, losing her temper.
"He's a kind, gentle, wonderful human being. I love him and I am
going to marry him, whether you like it or not."
"Traitor!" cried her father, "Ungrateful child!" He slapped
her.
Helen's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't let any of
them fall. She looked into her father's face, but there was no
more anger in her eyes - only pity.
"I warn you, Helen - if you marry this man, you are no
longer my daughter!" Helen did not trust herself to say anything.
She turned on her heel and left the room.
Helen tossed and turned, trying to find a cool spot on her
mattress. She had not been able to get to sleep all night,
wondering how she could get around this problem. She was twenty-
five, after all, and she had every right to get married without
her father's consent. All she and Yoshi needed were a couple of
witnesses, a magistrate, and...
Helen sighed. She knew that she couldn't do that to her
father. Even though he was being completely unreasonable, she
still wanted his approval.
And the relatives! How they would talk. She could not let
her family become the Chang clan's main topic of conversation and
gossip for the next twenty years. Even in modern Malaysia some
things never changed, one of them being the Chinese penchant for
a juicy bit of gossip - and the pitying, hostile, suspicious, and
altogether unpleasant stares for the subject concerned. She
sighed again, flinging herself violently against her pillow.
Her dry throat told her she needed a glass of water. She
went down to the kitchen, tiptoeing down the stairs to avoid
waking her parents. As she walked past the open door of her
father's study, she heard low moaning and what sounded like a
sob.
"Papa?" she called, pushing the door open. "Papa, are you
all right?" The moaning continued. She could see a hunched form
at the desk. She padded over, saying "Papa?"
Her father was bent over a faded, dusty photograph album, a
square empty bottle in his hand. The brandy fumes were strong on
his breath as Helen knelt down beside him. She gently uncurled
his fingers from the neck of the bottle and put it aside. "Papa,"
she said, "come on, let's get you back to bed."
"Helen?" he mumbled, looking at her and blinking, as if he
could not recognize her.
"Yes, Papa," she answered, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"It's me."
"Helen, I-I'm sorry I hit you," he said, looking apologetic.
"It's all right, Papa," said Helen, patting his shoulder.
"You were angry. I know you didn't mean it."
"I shouldn't have done it," he said, looking down with a
shamed look.
"I understand, Papa," said Helen.
They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Helen
was wondering if she should leave her father alone when he spoke
again. Slowly, hesitantly, the words came out.
"They killed him," her father said, tracing one of the
photographs with a wrinkled finger.
"Who, Papa?" Helen asked, looking up at him.
"Tai Koh," he whispered, as tears streamed down his
face. "They killed Tai Koh."
Tai Koh? Big Brother, Helen realized. But her father
had never mentioned an older brother before. She looked closer at
the browned, black-and-white photograph that showed two
solemn-faced young boys, one about ten years old, the other at
least seventeen. She recognized the younger boy as her father,
having seen old photographs of him at an aunt's house, but the
older boy was a stranger to her. Yet somehow she felt she knew
him. Those dark eyes, so much like her own..."Who killed him?"
she ventured to ask at last.
"The Red Army," he said quietly. Helen remembered the term
from her primary-school history lessons. The Red Army had been
the secret service, the ruthless police arm of the Japanese
military during the Japanese Occupation..."They came and took him
away," he continued in a cracked voice. "In the middle of the
night. They just came and dragged him away without saying
anything to anybody. We cried, we begged them to let him go.
Every day my mother went to plead with them to release her son.
They just laughed." His voice broke, and he sobbed, "They just
laughed...and we never saw him again..." His head fell into his
arms and he cried piteously, like a small child.
Now she understood. "Papa...I'm sorry," she whispered,
placing her arms around her father. "I didn't know."
No wonder he had been so hostile to Yoshi, she thought. With
the memories of what the Japanese had done to his family, it was
small wonder that a deep-rooted prejudice should remain in him.
But, she knew, this was wrong. She couldn't let him live in
the past, harboring the hatred he had kept within himself for
more than fifty years.
"Papa," she said, "You can't be angry at Yoshi for what
happened. He had nothing to do with what happened to Ah
Koh."
Her father would not look at her. Instead, he reached out
his hand and ran his fingers over the abacus beads.
Click click click.
Helen wanted to scream. Instead, calmly, she nudged the
abacus out of his reach. "Papa," she said, "Yoshi lost family
during the war, too." Her father was silent. "His father's
sisters were living in Nagasaki when the A-bomb fell," she
continued, wondering if he heard her - or if he even cared. She
added, "He had such a hard time convincing his father to let him
go to America to study." Her father looked up. Encouraged, she
went on, "Yoshi told his father that the war was over, it was
time to let old wounds heal. Papa," she said, looking squarely
into her father's eyes, "The war is over. Let your old wounds
heal."
Her father's lip trembled and his head drooped. Helen let
him cry himself out, steadying his shaking frame in her arms.
When he had finally exhausted himself, she gently helped him to
his feet and supported him up the stairs. In her parents'
bedroom, she maneuvered him into bed and drew the covers over
him.
Her mother woke up, glanced down at her husband, then at her
daughter with a questioning look. Helen nodded, smiling and
whispering, "It's all right." With a last look at her sleeping
father, she silently left the room.
Helen swallowed the last of her tea and stood up. She heard
a footfall behind her and turned around to see her father coming
in rather unsteadily.
"How are you feeling this morning, Papa?" she asked with a
smile of greeting, trying to hide her concern.
"I'm all right," he answered, returning her smile.
"Well, good," she replied, putting her cup in the sink.
An awkward silence hung in the air. Father and daughter
looked at each other, wondering what to say.
Helen broke the silence. "I have to go to work now, Papa,"
she said, picking up her briefcase. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"
She headed for the kitchen door.
"Ah, Helen," her father called after her. Helen paused and
looked back over her shoulder.
"Yes, Papa?" she said.
"Why don't you invite that - Yoshi, was it? - over for
dinner tonight? I would like to get to know him better."
Helen beamed. "Yes, Papa!" she replied joyfully. Her father
smiled.
© 1994 Winnie Guat-Sim Lim