On this trip, Schneidewind was also reunited with his son, who he brought back with him to the United States, placing him in the care of American relatives in Detroit. Richard “Dick” Schneidewind was a very good student. He did his work, showing a particular aptitude in science. While his father traveled the world with his second wife and their children, Dick Schneidewind lived with his German-speaking relatives. He graduated from high school in 1917 and went on to study at the University of Michigan, where he earned first a master’s and then a PhD in engineering research. He became a professor in the College of Engineering and generated numerous publications and patents relating to such things as chromium plating and iron casting. When still a young man, he became engaged, but the relationship ended when the fiancée’s parents learned of his dark skin. Professor Schneidewind married late in life, but only under the condition that the union produce no children. Apparently, the role of American mestizo, which was downgraded in the United States to the less desirable “half-breed,” had been traumatic enough that he would never wish it on another.

I wondered if Dick Schneidewind would have been better off if his father had just left him with the relatives in the Philippines, where he would have enjoyed not only acceptance but also status. It would have been a life without patents, but maybe he would have been happier. As in some regards I was happier in the Philippines, where I wasn’t needled with questions from strangers who, on learning I was Filipino, wanted to know how my parents had met, if my father had been a soldier, questions really posed to determine whether my mother had been a bar girl or worse. They were wishing for something salacious and were always disappointed by the truth.

That evening, my phone lit up with a call from my husband. I watched it ring and let it go, knowing that he would not leave a message and would soon call back. It was seven in the evening here, seven in the morning there, which meant that calling me was the first thing on his list for the day and he would not quit until I picked up. The phone went quiet and then resumed its assault. I let it ring twice and answered.

“Hello,” I said.

“Christina, we need to talk.”

I considered. “I’m not sure that we do.”

“Well, then, I need to talk and you owe me that. You have engaged a lawyer and things are getting serious.”

It occurred to me that I had indeed engaged a lawyer, or at least Tita Rosa had, although this was the first time the reality had really sunk in.

“You can’t expect me to take these demands seriously,” he said.

My heart was pounding and I was holding the phone so tightly that my fingers had started to ache.

“You haven’t read it, have you?”