The Year of the Three Sisters Page 2

  “Fan will be lonely at Andee’s house. It’s so big that you don’t even hear other people.”

  “A house is a house, Anna. And Mr. and Mrs. Wu are very generous.” Mom looks out the small basement window. “If Fan wants to stay with us sometimes, there is always room.” The basement is cool, and Mom pulls an afghan around our shoulders. “First we have to see if her parents will let her. Sometimes Chinese parents are very protective and also they don’t want to impose on other people. I will write Fan’s mother a letter in Chinese. From one mother to another. That is important.”

  “What will you say?”

  We watch our clothes churning in the washer—my jeans, Ken’s striped T-shirt, Kaylee’s red dress with white hearts. “I will tell her that in America, her daughter is my daughter,” Mom says.

  “And Andee and I are her American sisters,” I add.

  Mom sits at the dining room table with a legal pad and writes a letter to Fan’s mother. She covers the page with perfect Chinese characters, and then she recopies it before putting it into an envelope.

  “Do you have the address?” she asks.

  I try to imagine a mail carrier delivering letters in the alley where Fan lives. Each room must have a number, but it seems as if it would be very hard to figure out where everyone lives. “Maybe we should send it to the hotel.”

  I run to get the address and Mom copies it neatly onto the envelope.

  Chapter Three

  A Reply

  Every morning I check the email, but there is no reply from Fan. Finally on Monday morning, I see her name in my inbox.

  Dear Anna,

  Thank you very much to you and your friend for invite me and offer to buy my ticket, but I cannot come. I don’t tell my mother and father. They don’t leave Beijing and I go to America? But I dream about it every day.

  I am tired from my job now.

  Good bye and thank you very much for think about me.

  Your friend, Fan

  My stomach drops. Fan’s note is so short. She doesn’t say that she will try to find a way to visit someday or that she got the letter from Mom. She doesn’t write a poem or send a Chinese lesson. Did our invitation hurt her feelings in some way? At first I wasn’t sure about the whole idea of inviting Fan to America, but now that she has said no, I feel so disappointed.

  I call Andee and read her Fan’s note over the phone. She doesn’t say anything for so long that I wonder if we got disconnected. “Can you come over?” she asks finally.

  “I have to babysit this morning. I’ll see if my dad can bring me later.”

  When I get to Andee’s house, she shows me earrings she is making out of shells that she found on the beach at Cape Cod. “You should get your ears pierced,” she says.

  “I hate needles,” I say. “Even allergy shots.”

  “Let’s make bracelets.” Andee turns to face me. “I think Fan should at least have asked her parents.”

  Andee doesn’t seem to understand that in China, helping your family is the most important thing in your life. I pick black, blue, and green thread to make a bracelet for Camille. “Maybe Fan was embarrassed to ask. To her family, going to America must sound completely impossible.”

  Andee is listening hard with her head tilted, the way she always did at the CAT meetings. “Are you . . . Do you think there’s a still a chance that she could come?”

  “My mom wrote a letter to her mom,” I say. “I’m not sure if it got there yet.” Andee is braiding red, pink, and white thread. Her fingers are long and agile, and the sun is shining on her hair. “I think it could make a difference.”

  “Anyway, Fan might not even show the letter to her parents,” Andee says.

  “The letter is to her mom. I think she will show it to her.”

  Andee takes a deep breath. “If Fan can’t come, my mom said we could apply to host a regular Chinese exchange student through AFS.”

  Maybe Andee doesn’t really care who comes as long as she has someone. We finish our bracelets without saying much.

  Then Andee shows me two possible guest rooms for the exchange student, a bigger one that faces the front of the house and a smaller one in back. Both rooms have their own bathroom attached.

  “If Fan ends up coming, could she share your room? In China, she shares a room with her whole family.”

  “Don’t you think she’d want some privacy?” Andee asks.

  I shake my head. “She’s used to having people around all the time.”

  We go back into Andee’s room. “There isn’t really that much space in here,” she says, even though her room is big. “I guess she could use the art spot, and I could move my earrings and art stuff into the guest room.”

  We spend the afternoon cleaning up the alcove. We take all the art supplies into the guest room and move a bed from the guest bedroom into the art alcove. I think we should ask Andee’s parents first, but she says that it’s her room and she’s allowed to rearrange things the way she wants. “What should we put on the wall?” she asks.

  “In her room, Fan has posters of flowers and Chinese movie stars.” I try to think of what else we could do. “It needs something colorful.”

  Andee gets out a stack of origami paper. We write Welcome in English and Huan ying in Chinese on red sheets.

  Then we look on the Internet to find the words for welcome in other languages and copy them as best we can onto different-colored pieces of paper. By the time Dad comes to pick me up, the alcove is full of international floating Welcome signs.

  When we pull up in front of the house, Mom runs out to the car. “Anna, your friend just called from China. I talked to her mother. She said they were so happy to read my letter, and that if Mrs. Wu can arrange everything, they will allow Fan to come! I didn’t want to talk for a long time because I know it’s expensive. But I told her how happy we are and that we will communicate through email.”

  Right away I call Andee, and we have the longest phone conversation we’ve ever had. We talk about what classes Fan will take at Fenwick and what clubs she might join. “We can have sleepovers on the weekends,” Andee says. “At either your house or mine.”

  I try to remember what Fan likes. “She loves ice cream.”

  “We can go to Graeter’s and get double scoops at least once a week!” Andee says.

  I turn off my light at eleven, but I feel wide awake. I can’t tell if I’m nervous or excited or both. Maybe Fan should live with us. She knows me already, and Fenwick Middle School and Fenwick High are right next to each other. But Andee definitely wants an exchange student at her house. Anyway, her family has done almost everything to bring Fan here. They’ve spent a lot of money and made all the arrangements, and we already have the room ready. Plus Fan and Andee are closer in age. I try to imagine them next to each other. Fan is short, Andee is tall. Fan has straight black hair, Andee’s is brown and curly. Fan seems older than Andee in some ways, and she is, but Andee is much more sophisticated in the way she dresses and talks. They seem really different from each other. What if they don’t get along?

  Chapter Four

  Arrival!

  Fan gets approved for the cultural exchange. Andee’s parents pay for the passport and visa, and her mom calls her friend in D.C. to make sure that the applications are processed quickly. We email Fan with the details, and then Mrs. Wu buys Fan’s airplane ticket for August 31. Fan will have a few days to adjust before the school year starts.

  “What do you think will make Fan feel the most welcome?” Andee asks.

  “Chinese food,” I say.

  Andee’s mom takes us to the Asian market and we buy dried black mushrooms, bamboo shoots, braised gluten, and short grain rice. “Fan likes candy,” I remember, so we buy a bag of Chinese lemon drops. We put all the food into their pantry.

  “Anything else?” Andee asks.

  “She likes poetry,” I say.

  We look through the books on Andee’s shelf and take out A Child’s Garden of Verses. “I used to
love these poems when I was younger,” Andee says.

  “I still like them,” I say. “Especially the one about the shadow.”

  “I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,” Andee says.

  “And what can be the use of him is more than I can see,” I say.

  “He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head,” Andee says.

  “And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed!” we say together.

  We put the book on a small table by Fan’s bed. Then together we write a welcome poem:

  Huan ying, welcome

  to our homes.

  America and China

  are on two sides of the earth.

  But now you have two sisters

  in America.

  I copy it in my best handwriting and we tape it to the wall above Fan’s bed, right in the middle of the floating Welcome signs.

  Mom and I go to the airport with Andee and her parents.

  “Thank you for arranging everything,” Mom says to Mrs. Wu in the car. “This is such a big opportunity for Anna’s friend.”

  “Really, it is an honor for us,” Andee’s mother says. “I’m so glad everything worked out.”

  We take the Suspension Bridge across the Ohio River, and I look out the window at the rolling hills of Northern Kentucky. Alongside the highway are fields of corn, all yellow in the late-August sun. What if Fan gets homesick like I did in China? I was only there for two weeks, but there were times when I would have done anything to be in my own bed. I know she is older than me, but I don’t think she has ever lived away from her family. What if she feels lonely in Andee’s big house? I glance over at Andee, and she is fiddling with her earring.

  At the airport, we stand by the rope. Each time someone young and Asian walks toward us, Andee looks at me and I shake my head. Finally, when we’re about to check to see if Fan missed her connection in New York, I see a short person carrying a big bag.

  “Fan!” I shout, wishing I could run past the barrier. She looks around, sees me, and hurries to meet us.

  Fan is wearing an orange T-shirt that makes her skin look pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She shakes everyone’s hand. “I am Fan,” she says. “Pleased to meet you.” We head toward the baggage claim.

  “How was your flight?” Andee asks. Her words run together when she talks, and Fan doesn’t understand.

  “Lu shang zen me yang,” Mom translates.

  Fan nods. “Hao.” Then she says something long and fast that I think means she couldn’t sleep all night because the plane was too noisy.

  Fan and Andee are standing next to each other, watching the suitcases tumble onto the conveyor belt. Fan is shorter than I remember, especially compared to Andee. And her baggy T-shirt makes her look much younger than she is. After a while Fan points to one of the suitcases. Andee’s father picks it up, and we follow the signs to the parking lot.

  In the car, Fan puts her head back against the seat and closes her eyes. I remember the taxi ride to the hotel when we first arrived in China. I was so tired from jet lag that I literally couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  Andee and I take Fan upstairs and show her the bed in the art alcove. “So beautiful,” she says, when she sees the room. “So big. You sleep here?” She points to Andee’s bed.

  “This is Andee’s house,” I say slowly. “I live in another house.”

  Fan looks out the window to the woods in the backyard. “Where is your house?”

  “That way,” I say, pointing. “Twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes walking?” Fan asks.

  “Driving,” I say.

  She points to the Welcome signs on the wall. “I like it.” Then in Chinese she says, “Andee’s bed is very big. You can share the bed with your friend.”

  I think for a minute. I could probably stay over at Andee’s tonight, but maybe it would be better if Fan and Andee got to know each other. Plus, I have to babysit for Jing in the morning. “I have to go home,” I say.

  Fan looks disappointed. Then she rubs her face with her hands and switches back to English. “I have a gift.” She unzips her suitcase and takes out two identical blouses embroidered with birds and flowers for Andee and me, a kite for my brother, and a little blue dress for Kaylee. She also brought painted fans for Andee’s parents and for mine, and calendars with pictures of Beijing for each family.

  “Xie xie,” I say.

  “Thank you,” Andee says, holding up the blouse.

  “Try it,” Fan says.

  Andee looks at me. “I’ll try it on later,” she says.

  I put the blouse on over my T-shirt. “It fits,” I say, turning around so Fan can see the back.

  Fan smiles. “Thank you for invite me to America.” Then, right in front of us, she changes into her pajamas. “Hen lei,” she says, yawning.

  “She’s tired,” I say.

  Fan lies down on the bed and closes her eyes. Andee and I go downstairs.

  Mom has to get to the hospital by six, so she stands up to leave. “Thank you again, and call us if you need anything.”

  Mrs. Wu nods. “We are very excited. It will certainly be an interesting experience for all of us.” She walks us to the door. “I forgot to ask, what do you think Fan would like for breakfast?”

  “In China, sometimes we have noodles or rice,” Mom says.

  “That’s easy enough,” Mrs. Wu says.

  “Can you spend the night?” Andee asks me. Her face looks really worried.

  “I have to babysit at eight thirty.”

  Andee turns to her mom. “I would be glad to drive you there in the morning,” Mrs. Wu says.

  Andee lends me a toothbrush and pajamas that have green frogs all over them. We play a few games of cards, and then we tiptoe into her room. Fan is asleep, facing the wall.

  “Maybe you should sleep on the side closer to her,” Andee says, “in case she wakes up in the middle of the night.”

  I lie down close to the edge of the mattress and pull up the sheet.

  Andee lies on her back with her arms crossed behind her head. “This is the first time in my life I’ve shared my room with anyone.”

  I think of all the times Ken has slept in my room. Even now, whenever there is a storm, he comes across the hall and curls up on my bed. I rub his back until I can feel his muscles relax. And my friend from down the street, Laura, used to spend the night at our house sometimes.

  “What about when your cousin comes?” I ask.

  “She sleeps in the guest room.”

  “When you were little, did you go to your parents’ bed when there were thunderstorms?”

  Andee shakes her head. “I’ve always loved storms. Actually, I really like being alone. I guess I’m used to it.” Andee turns to me. “I’m nervous.”

  “About what?”

  She lowers her voice. “I hope Fan likes it here.”

  I’m not sure what to say. “I think she will,” I whisper finally.

  Andee is staring at the ceiling and I wonder if she wishes she were all alone in her room right now.

  The clock says three thirty. Fan is sitting up in bed, holding a tiny light that looks like a pen and writing in a notebook.

  “Fan,” I whisper.

  She looks startled.

  “I decided to stay here tonight.” I slide off the high mattress and go over to her bed so that our talking doesn’t disturb Andee.

  “Did I wake you up?” Fan asks in Chinese.

  “I was already awake.”

  “I can’t sleep more,” she says, switching to English.

  “You have jet lag,” I say. “Like I did when I went to China.”

  Fan writes jet lag in her notebook. Then she shows me a journal entry, which she has written in English:

  My trip to America is very good. I sit next to a nice American lady with two daughters. They are half Chinese like Anna’s friend Andee. Now I stay at Andee’s house. I am happy because I have two new friend sister
s, Anna and Andee. They write a welcome poem on the wall.

  Fan copied our poem into the notebook.

  “Your writing is very good,” I say.

  “I cannot understand when Andee talks,” Fan whispers.

  “She talks fast,” I say. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Then Fan shows me a book of Chinese poems that she brought. “A gift from my teacher.” She opens the book to the title page, which has a handwritten note.

  “What does it say?”

  Fan tries to translate the note for me. “Never—never to stop.” Fan searches for the right English words. “Never stop to try,” she whispers.

  “Never give up,” I say.

  Fan writes give up in her notebook.

  Andee turns over in her sleep. Fan puts her finger to her lips, picks up A Child’s Garden of Verses, and lies back down. I tiptoe back to Andee’s bed, climb onto the high mattress, and pull the blanket up to my neck. I am grateful for the air conditioning in Andee’s house, but now it feels freezing and I wish I were home.

  Chapter Five

  First Day in America

  In the morning Andee sleeps late, and Fan and I get dressed as quietly as we can. Fan slips a shapeless dress over her head. “Good for summertime,” she says.

  “Did you sleep well?” Mrs. Wu asks us when we come downstairs.