Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Notes and Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
I wished I had thought to record the call, so I could play it back, slow it down, and see what I had missed. Maybe I would have been able to send the audio recording to grandmother and have her translate it for me.
Then my phone vibrated.
我们在铅笔厂旁边的公园见面
Even as I scrambled to copy the text into my translating app, she sent another message.
👵🏽↔️👩🏻 ✏️🏢🌳
🕐? I sent back.
👍
I had not even realized the emoji of the clock I sent had a time on it. Her eyes were sharp. I prepared my backpack, tucked grandmother’s pencil into the side pocket, then ran out the door to ensure I would catch the train and make it there by the emoji time.
She was already at the park near the old pencil company when I arrived, sitting on a bench. She held a cane in front of her that appeared less to support her weight than to hold her posture upright. Her expression was far sterner than grandmother’s.
“Hi,” I said, instinctively in English, running over.
“Monica?”
She said my name carefully, like porcelain on her lips.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” I said in Chinese. Meng smiled. Her teeth were small and crooked. So she did understand me.
She gestured to the open space beside her, and I sat down.
She said something I only partially understood. It was a question, asking if I did something. Then she pulled out a pencil. She pointed first to herself, then to the pencil, then to my wrist. She spoke her words again.
“Yes,” I said. I startled her with my excitement, understanding what she was trying to say. “I Reforged your pencil. Grandmother asked me to.”
She asked something else. This time, I could recognize the word for “grandmother.”
I took out grandmother’s pencil and handed it to her. She looked at it for a long time before taking it.
“She spent a lot of time writing with that,” I said. “She really wanted to find you again.”
She held the pencil in both hands, cradled in her lap.
“Her memory is fading now.” I had looked up how to explain her disease, practiced saying it. “And she had surgery on her hip.”
Meng did not say anything, so I kept talking.