Imperfect Triangle

Chapter 4

I remember standing barefoot on a cold floor, disturbed by the tempestuous noise of mahjong tiles clashing together. It was a night during summertime when school was suspended until September.

It was partly because my mother had returned to her hometown a four-hour train ride away, and mostly because my dad was in trouble again. Without a heads-up nor an explanation, he dropped me off at one of his friend's and fled. I had only my school bag with me.

I glanced around the room, feeling peculiar. Any place with four walls and a ceiling was the same to me as I had been abandoned in too many places. It was mind-blowing that my dad had so many friends that allowed a little girl to spend a night.

Two things Chinese men had in common: loyalty to brotherhood and enthusiasm in gambling. Whenever they had the time, they gathered in one of the houses to play poker, mahjong or even Chinese chess.

Around the mahjong table sat four men, each holding a flickering cigarette between their fingers.

"Xue, don't you worry! You've got a friend here," one of them said, rubbing a tile of mahjong with his thumb. He chanted 'red dragon' under his breath. Squatting under the table, I took a peek before he did. It was a bamboo.

"What friend?" I asked as I stood straight after the man cursed and discarded the tile to the centre of the table.

"My little boy, Jin. He's in his room. Go play with him," said the man, who casually flicked the ashes of his cigarette to the ground.

"I'm okay," I shrugged and skipped away with a fluffy piggy in my arm.

A young lady led me to sit with her on a fabric sofa. Her scent was unique, a mixture of soap and grass among the acrid cigarette smoke. It was more pleasant than that on my mum, which was like pickled radish as she carried a hundred jars of it whenever she returned from her hometown. She wanted to sell them to the neighbors but, seriously, who would buy that?

It was no exaggeration to say the woman could be one of the actresses appearing on TV. Her face glowed like pink lilacs. If only she had prettier clothes. I rifled through my schoolbag and handed her the plaid skirt I wore to school. It was too short for me and I loathed exposing my bare knees.

Later, I watched her pulling the needle and thread in and out to stitch the hemming of the skirt.

"Xue, do you miss your mama?" she asked me when she was half way through it.

"Sometimes, but she said she will be back before the school starts," I answered with my eyes clinging to her moving hands.

"I heard you're wonderful at school."

As a response, I mimicked her genuine smile.

"Ma!" A boy stepped out of his room and scowled,  leaning on the door frame. "My tummy is not well." His name was Jin and he was twelve, as I was told later on.

Jin's mother dropped my skirt instantly and sat up from the sofa. "Honey, I think it's done."

Striding across the corridor to Jin, she brushed his hair away and kissed his forehead. A Mama's boy, I judged him inwardly. I had met a lot of kids in many houses. Most of them were older but behaved otherwise.

I picked up the skirt and even I, a ten-year-old child, could tell there was a two inches gap between the ends of the stitches. My mum could have done it better, but I promised myself I would wear it to school anyway.

"Who's the girl?" I heard Jin hiss to his mother.

"She's Xue. Be nice to her. Treat her like your own sister," his mother warned him.