yi
Walking into a room for the seventh time today is more painful than it needs to be. It’s hard to hide the truth. It’s hard to hide feelings. It feels as if butterflies are in my stomach and they’re fluttering so bad I need to throw up, and the relief I get once I finally do so is better than any other relief I have ever experienced.
Bàba and Māmā call me down for dinner, and I oblige. Tonight for dinner is dàbāo—one of my favorites—and Jiùjiu Liang and Jiùmu Wen are over tonight. As I descend the stairs, I can already hear Jiùmu Wen’s hearty laugh.
”Jiějiě, you're such a funny girl,” she says to Māmā. She has always referred to my mother as her younger sister and my father as her older brother (Māmā being two years younger than Bàba with Jiùmu Wen being one year younger than him).
Māmā says nothing in acknowledgment and rather gives a nod. Jiùjiu Liang and Jiùmu Wen sit down at the table and they begin to serve themselves from the xiaolong. I grab two, then a third. I reach for a fourth dàbao when Māmā taps the top of my hand. ”You’ll get fat. No boy ever wants to marry a fat girl.”
Then how come Bàba married you? ”Yes, ma'am.” I remain with my three dàbao and begin to slowly eat it and chew thoroughly. I smile and gently close my eyes in pleasure as I taste every bit of the delicious pork and aspic in my mouth. I swallow happily, all too happy to take a second bite.
Mèimei Jia is allowed to take five, I noticed. (Five, and she is only six lunar years!) It feels that either Māmā is unsure as to whether Mèimei will become a beautiful bride or that she only wants to get rid of me in exchange for a good amount of Yuan.
I feel as though I mean nothing to Māmā.
