"
Two years later, one afternoon, more like a water-melon seed in
configuration than ever, Ah Kim returned home from a meeting of the
Chinese Protective Association, to find his mother dead on her
couch. Narrower and more unrelenting than ever were the forehead
and the brushed-back hair. But on her face was a withered smile.
The gods had been kind. She had passed without pain.
He telephoned first of all to Li Faa's number but did not find her
until he called up Mrs. Chang Lucy. The news given, the marriage
was dated ahead with ten times the brevity of the old-line Chinese
custom. And if there be anything analogous to a bridesmaid in a
Chinese wedding, Mrs. Chang Lucy was just that.
"Why," Li Faa asked Ah Kim when alone with him on their wedding
night, "why did you cry when your mother beat you that day in the
store? You were so foolish. She was not even hurting you."
"That is why I cried," answered Ah Kim.
Li Faa looked up at him without understanding.
"I cried," he explained, "because I suddenly knew that my mother
was nearing her end.
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