FISH CHEEK

I had a tumultuous week. Some of my mother’s actions totally did not make any sense. I was a bit grumpy over the fact that she sided my sister more than me – which I felt my actions were more rational, despite my horrible temper.

I had not wanted to forgive any of them for they have hurt my feelings deeply. I was sulking the entire week, refusing not to speak to any one of them, answering questions, only when they are important, with a grunt or merely a nod.

I buried myself in books and stayed in my room most of the time – with the caution signage at the door – “Beware. Bitch with a stick stuck in her ass.”

During my time of seeking solitude – I chanced upon this short story in Amy Tan’s book – the Opposite of Fate. Page 125 to 127

“I fell in love with the minister’s son the winter I turned 14. He was not Chinese, but as white as Mary in the manger. For Christmas, I prayed for this blonde-haired boy, Robert, and a slim new American nose.

When I found out that my parents had invited the minister’s family over for Christmas Eve dinner, I cried. What would Robert think of our shabby Chinese Christmas? What would he think of our noisy Chinese relatives who lacked proper American manners? What terrible disappointment would he feel upon seeing not a roasted turkey and sweet potatoes but Chinese food?

On Christmas Eve, I saw that my mother had outdone herself in creating a strange menu. She was pulling black veins out of the backs of fleshy prawns. The kitchen was littered with appalling mounds of raw food: A slimy rock cod with bulging fish eyes that pleaded not to be thrown into a pan of hot oil. Tofu, which looked like stacked wedges of rubbery white sponges. A bowl soaking fried fungus back to life. a plate of squid, criss-crossed with knife markings so they resembled bicycle tires.

And then they arrived – the minister’s family and all my relatives in a clamor of doorbells and rumpled Christmas packages. Robert grunted hello. And I pretended he was not worthy of existence.

Dinner threw me deeper into despair. My relatives licked the ends of their chopsticks and reached across the table, dipping into the dozen or so plates of food. Robert and his family waited patiently for platters to be passed to them. My relatives murmured with pleasure when my mother brought the whole steamed fish. Robert grimaced. Then my father poked his chopsticks just below the fish eye and plucked out the soft meat. “Amy, your favourite,” he said, offering me the tender fish cheek, I wanted to disappear.

At the end of the meal my father leaned back and belched loudly, thanking my mother for her fine cooking. “It’s a polite Chinese custom., to show you are satisfied,” he explained to out astonished guests. Robert was looking down at his plate with a reddened face. The minister managed to muster a quiet burp. I was stunned into silence for the rest of the night.

After all the guests had gone, my mother said to me, “You want be same like American girls on the outside.” She handed me an early gift. It was a miniskirt in beige tweed. “But inside, you must always be Chinese. You must be proud you different. You only shame is to be ashame.”

And even though I didn’t agree with her then, I knew that she understood how much I had suffered during the evening’s dinner. It wasn’t until many years later – long after I had gotten over my crush on Robert – that I was able to appreciate fully her lesson and the true purpose behind our particular menu. For Christmas Eve that year, she had chosen all my favourite foods.”

Despite still feeling disgruntled and somewhat, unfairly treated, I felt there was truth in what Amy had just written. Sometimes, mother’s actions do not make sense at all at present time. But as we grow, the lessons and advice would somehow fall into places. I "hate" it when mother is always right, even if I always find it amusing.

This story somehow shook the very core of me; and I let go of my guard. It is useless to be continuously angry over some petty arguments, even if it hurts the most. It’s like fighting a losing battle. Blood is always thicker than water. No matter how much tragedies or trials, family had to stick together.

I recalled happier times fondly, and imagined how I couldn’t have survived without them. I never felt so silly for following my temperamental heart; for which I humbly apologized.