Dragonfly Dreams Read online

  Auntie Boxin was not my real aunt. I just called her Auntie because Da said we should treat her like family. Her husband, Mr. Hansen, had hired Da at the water company. They had been close friends, and Da felt it was his duty to take care of his widow after he died. Mr. Hansen was from Denmark and had come to China to make a fortune. He had fallen in love with a young, beautiful Korean dancer, and that was Auntie Boxin. They had a daughter named Isabella.

  Isabella had grown up speaking Korean with her mother, Danish with her father, English and French at school, and Chinese with her amah. Her father had sent Isabella to Europe for her education, but when he got sick, she returned to care for him and now she was eighteen and stuck in China.

  After Mr. Hansen died, Auntie Boxin nearly collapsed. Ma said it wasn’t the news of his death that made her collapse, but the shock of discovering that he had had a gambling habit. Even with little money, Auntie Boxin stayed in their big house with nineteen rooms. She had to let go of all her servants but one and close off most of the rooms because she couldn’t afford to heat them.

  The night we moved into Auntie Boxin’s house, the wind was howling. I squeezed in close to Ma and pushed Mei-mei to the outside of the seat.

  “Careful, Nini,” Ma said, without really looking at me. She had many things on her mind. When we settled in, Ma spread a blanket over all three of us and told the driver to go. Mei-mei pulled her knitted cap down over her eyes and ears and leaned toward me for warmth.

  We approached Auntie Boxin’s house in the dark. The heavy wrought-iron gate creaked when the servant opened it for us. Mei-mei pulled her cap up and leaned out to see where we were. When the driver jerked the rickshaw across the bumpy cobblestones, Mei-mei bounced forward and would have fallen out if I hadn’t pulled her back in.

  The other rickshaw with Amah and Weilin came through the gate after us and rattled over the bumpy stones. The servant at the gate yelled to Sun to take his cart with the furniture to the servants’ entrance.

  A sudden draft of wind hit me as I started to climb out of the rickshaw. A loose shutter banged against a window upstairs, and I looked up and saw someone peek from behind a curtain, then close it.

  Auntie Boxin stood at the top of the steps. The light coming from inside the house behind her made her look like a tall, dark shadow.

  Mei-mei bounded for the stone steps, tripping on the first one. I pulled Mei-mei up, and started climbing the steps, dragging her behind me. Isabella came out the door and headed straight for us, her brown hair loose and wavy, her sweater and skirt bright blue. She took Mei-mei’s hand and greeted us. “Come on in. You must meet Sillibub. He’s been waiting for you.”

  We entered a grand entrance hall with a marble staircase on one side and a chandelier hanging above. The servant shut the door; the wind stopped but not the cold.

  “Isabella, show the girls to their room,” Auntie Boxin ordered.

  Isabella headed toward the stairs while Auntie Boxin told Ma they could wait for Da in the drawing room. Auntie Boxin was taller and thinner than Ma. She was dressed in black with a black shawl, her black hair pulled back tight in a bun.

  Leading us up the stairs, Isabella said, “Ah, there’s Sillibub. I knew he’d come to meet you.”

  At the top of the staircase was the fattest cat I had ever seen. He was white except for two black feet, and his face was half white and half black. He rounded his back and seemed to grow fatter.

  “We call him Sillibub because he looks like a clown,” Isabella said.

  “He looks like a fur muff,” I said.

  Mei-mei reached out for him, and Isabella grabbed her hand. “Sillibub doesn’t like to be touched,” she said. “Leave him alone until he decides he likes you.”

  I doubted that would happen soon.

  We walked down the hall, passing closed doors, until we got to the last one. Isabella opened the door and turned on a small lamp. It didn’t do much to dispel the darkness. Heavy drapes covered the windows. I could make out a big bed made of dark wood with a heavy cover and pile of big pillows. It was so high I didn’t know how Mei-mei would get into it.

  “Your things will be brought up later,” Isabella said. “But you might want to keep your coat on.” Isabella pulled a stool toward the bed.

  Just then the shutter hit the window. The glass in the window rattled and the drapes moved. I shivered and wondered how Ma was going to make it; she was used to a heated house. Maybe she hoped Da could help pay for fuel. Living with Auntie Boxin was not going to be easy.

  Isabella must have read my mind and said, “Oh, you’ll get used to it. We have a heating system, but, well, the Japanese control the fuel right now. But don’t worry, it won’t last long.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the cold or the Japanese.

  Isabella added, “In the meantime, your amah can make you some padded clothes.”

  I had always worn padded clothes, but I wasn’t sure Ma would like layers of old cloth sewn together like pads under her dresses.

  The next morning, Da was gone before we woke. Sun had prepared tea and buns. Da came back and joined us in the dining room—a big, cold room with mirrors on the wall and portraits of people with stern faces. The table was so big we sat only at one end. Da told us what he had heard.

  “The Japanese are forcing the foreigners to move into the British district,” he began. How lucky for us, I thought, because Auntie Boxin’s house was already in the British district.

  “. . . and they have ordered all foreigners to register.”

  Ma was picking up her teacup when Da directed his comment to her. “You are now considered an enemy alien and you have to register.”

  Ma slammed down her teacup. “The Japanese are the enemy aliens, not me. I refuse to do it.”

  “What about me?” I asked. “I’m American, too.”

  “No, children don’t have to register,” Da said then turned back to Ma. “I don’t see any way out of it. If you don’t register, they will track you down. It will only be worse then.”

  “Well, what do I have to do?” Ma said with resignation.

  “You must go to the Empire Hotel tomorrow,” Da said.

  “Do I go?” asked Auntie Boxin, smoothing her black hair back (although it was already tightly in place). Even for breakfast she was dressed perfectly, and her make-up was just right.

  “No, you don’t have to register. Japan is not at war with Korea,” Da said. “In fact, as a Korean, you can now apply for rations and will receive food and fuel. I will find out where you apply.”

  Sun brought in bowls of hot noodle soup.

  Da went on. “Nini, I want you to go with your mother tomorrow. You might be helpful to her. Amah will stay here and keep Mei-mei and Weilin.”

  “I can go with Tai-tai,” Sun said to Da in Chinese. Tai-tai was the polite term for the lady of the house. “When I used to work at the hotel, I knew the manager there. I will talk to him and find out what I can.”

  Sun used to tell me stories of the Empire Hotel. He said it was the center of the British empire in China, and all kinds of businesspeople stayed there and talked about important things, like where to lay rail lines, and how to get electricity to the foreign districts, and when a dignitary was coming. He helped the pastry chef and said he knew the nationality of the guests by what kind of pastry they ordered: a croissant meant a French guest, and a scone an Englishman.

  The next morning Amah woke me early. Sun had soup and rolls prepared for us. I put on my warmest clothes, and Ma was dressed in a tweed suit and wore high heels. I guessed she wanted to make a good impression as an enemy alien.

  She put a coat over her suit and said, “This is the heaviest coat I have, but even so, I bet this wind will blow right up my skirt and freeze me to death.”

  Sun led us along Meadows Road through the middle of the British district. Elm trees lined both sides of the street
, and their bare branches stood against a dark, cloudy sky. Each house was surrounded by a wall, some high, some low, some lined on top with shards of glass, some with trellises for vines in the summer, but the walls blocked my view of the houses behind them. I could only see gabled windows, balconies in some, or a tower that rose above the wall.

  Sun was ahead of us because he kept walking instead of looking at the houses.

  I caught up with him at the entrance to Victoria Park. He was staring at a sign that read, NO DOGS OR CHINESE ALLOWED.

  My stomach knotted as I stood next to Sun, confused about what the sign meant. Could I go in the park if I was only half Chinese? What about Sun? Was he no better than a dog?

  When Ma caught up, she walked right in. “Follow me. It’s faster if we go through the park.”

  I started to follow, but Sun didn’t move.

  Ma stopped walking and looked back. “What’s the matter?”

  “When I worked at the hotel, I never came here,” Sun said, still looking at the sign.

  “Don’t pay any attention to that sign. The British think they are superior to everyone. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

  “What about Da?” I asked. “Can he enter the park?”

  “Your father never paid any attention to that sign. He’s been one of the most important men in the city. All the foreigners need water. How ridiculous if he couldn’t enter Victoria Park. But come to think of it, I can’t recall that he came here more than once.”

  “Tai-tai, this way—not be late,” motioned Sun.

  Ma followed Sun, walking around the park instead of through it. When we got to Victoria Boulevard, the wide street in front of the hotel, we just stood there, staring. The flag of Imperial Japan—a white background and a red circle with lines radiating out in all directions like the sun—was flying from the top of the Empire Hotel.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Empire Hotel looked like a British castle with a tower in the middle and a turret at each end. It was made of brick and rose five stories high. There were balconies along the front where dignitaries had stood for British parades or celebrations in the past.

  “I’ve never seen a Japanese flag on British property.” Ma shook her head in disgust. “And I never thought I’d see one on the Empire Hotel. It makes my skin crawl.”

  Sun led us across Victoria Boulevard to the entrance of the hotel. People like Ma were milling around. No one seemed to know what to do. Sun whispered to me that he was going around the back to the kitchen to find out what he could. He urged me to stay close to Ma and to watch for things she might not understand.

  I was looking around for someone I knew when I spotted Dr. Meyer coming toward us. The last time I saw him was in the summer when I had a bad case of prickly heat and mosquito bites, and when I scratched, I got boils on my legs.

  “Ah, Nini, no prickly heat now,” Dr. Meyer said as he reached us. Then he turned to Ma. “Brought your interpreter, I see.” He was referring to me—not Sun.

  Dr. Meyer was Dutch, a beefy man with two chins. He used to love to talk politics with Da.

  “Hello, Dr. Meyer,” Ma responded. “Yes, Nini’s a big help to me. But I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought you’d gone back to Holland.”

  “Holland! Oh, certainly not. The Nazis, you know! Can’t go back there. Much better to be here.”

  “Well, I hope so, but—how’s your wife?” Ma asked.

  “Haven’t you heard? She had a breakdown. When the banks closed, they took our savings. None of the foreign doctors can practice anymore.” He pulled Ma close and whispered, but it was loud enough for me to hear. “They got Paul Thompson.”

  “Oh, no! Is Paul all right?” Ma gripped Dr. Meyer’s arm. Ma hadn’t seen Mr. Thompson since the day he told us that Pearl Harbor had been bombed.

  “He’s all right, but they smashed his shortwave radio. Took everything he had.”

  Dr. Meyer moved on to talk to someone else, and Ma bumped into her British friend, Mrs. Powell, with her puffy white hair and wearing a fur coat.

  Ma said she was sorry to hear about her husband’s recent death and then added, “But without Mr. Powell, are you going to stay?”

  “Of course I am. I was born here,” Mrs. Powell said. “My husband, my father, and my grandfather are buried here. I intend to be buried here too. My sons will see to that.”

  Mrs. Powell continued in a raised voice, “I will register if I have to, but I won’t leave!” Mrs. Powell stood erect. “I have more of a right than the Japanese to be here. They will just have to drag me away!”

  Beverly Yin, a young American teacher, came up to Ma and didn’t even look at me.

  “I can’t believe I’m here. What a fool I’ve been,” Beverly sighed.

  Like Ma, Beverly had married a Chinese man while he was studying in America.

  “Why haven’t you and your husband gone back to America then?” Ma asked.

  “My husband refuses to leave while his parents are still living. But I’m leaving as soon as I can.”

  “Without your husband?”

  “He can come when he’s ready. No telling what’s going to happen before then.”

  Beverly moved on and I noticed a commotion at the entrance to the hotel. Japanese soldiers had come out and were barking orders. I pulled on Ma to move, but she wasn’t paying attention to me and spoke as if talking to someone else.

  “How can she leave her husband? If she wanted out of it, she shouldn’t have gotten into it.” I nudged Ma again. “I married, I crossed the ocean, that’s that. I live with my decision. What are you doing, Nini?”

  Ma and I climbed the steps in front of the hotel and entered a large room that was poorly lit. This wasn’t what I expected of the lobby of the Empire Hotel. This didn’t look like a place where important people had their grand parties and made big decisions. There was no furniture or rugs, no tables with lamps or places to sit. The wood floors were deeply scratched, probably from heavy boots and scraping furniture.

  A clatter came from the far side of the room as Japanese soldiers were setting up tables and giving orders. I noticed that each table had a sign for different nationalities. I saw Mrs. Powell heading for the British table, and I nudged Ma into the line that I thought was for Americans.

  A soldier with a dark scowl and square jaw barked in Ma’s face. I didn’t exactly understand him, but I knew Ma didn’t, so I answered, “American.”

  He grumbled at her and pointed to another table they were just then setting up.

  Ma moved toward the table, and I followed, but the soldier blocked my way and pushed me aside. Fearful of angering him, I did what he said. I stood away from Ma and the soldiers near a staircase where I could watch what was going on.

  I looked around the room in amazement. So many different foreigners, all in one place. Perhaps they were the same people who came here for parties and important meetings, but how different they seemed—usually confident, busy, always in charge of things, now they were confused, frustrated, and being ordered around.

  A soldier pushed Dr. Meyer toward a table in the back. At another table I spotted Lillian, the beautiful Polish pianist, who used to come to our house to give Ma piano lessons. I could hear Tooner’s voice above all the others. He was at the British line, arguing with the soldiers that he was Irish, not British.

  When I looked back at Ma, she was at the front of the line. Her face was stony. A soldier was strapping something on her arm. When she left the table, she didn’t even look for me. She just turned and headed for the door.

  “Ma, wait for me!” I caught up with her halfway down the steps. Then I could see the black band across her sleeve.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer until we got away from the hotel. “All the foreigners have to wear armbands now.”

  The black strap had a
white circle and inside the circle was the bold Chinese character for America.

  “But why?” I asked.

  “It’s supposed to humiliate me,” said Ma. “But they can’t humiliate me by labeling me an American.”

  Ma was walking fast, but she didn’t take the path through the park. She walked around the park the way Sun had.

  “Do you know what it means?”

  “That I’m American,” she snapped.

  “No. I mean the character—Chinese and Japanese characters are the same. It means rice country, the land of plenty,” I said. “But it also means beautiful.”

  She slowed down. “You mean I’m wearing an armband that says beautiful?”

  “That’s right, in a way.”

  “Well, this is the first time I’ve been labeled beautiful.” Her gait became more normal, and she tucked the hair that had fallen loose behind one ear. “I guess being labeled America, the Beautiful is better than being called enemy alien.”

  We had a good laugh, and Sun caught up with us as we continued down Meadows Road.

  In such a short time, everything had changed. Da had been fired for having an American wife. We had been forced to move, and Ma had to register as an enemy alien and wear an armband identifying her as an American. In the past, my American side had always made me feel safe, but now it was the cause of trouble. Has the world turned upside down?

  CHAPTER 8

  I was required to go to a Chinese school controlled by the Japanese. Nothing about it was like the foreign schools I had been to before. I had to walk a long way to get there. It was in the old British Army barracks that had been abandoned after the British Army left to fight the war in Europe. Some of the windows were broken out, and the desks weren’t desks at all but left-over furniture from the barracks.