sense of anger and impatience had seemed to run its course on so many occasions and when the attendance dean could barely tolerate some ill-timed intrusion into some illicit activity in the back. Some intending to shout down at Nick but never within some patronizing frame of thought nor would Nick ever tolerate such behavior.
− ¿Nǐ xū cài dān? asked the thinnish waiter.
− Don’t need no menu! exclaimed Nick.
Nick watched and waited as the thinnish man clutched some more reliable tool of his trade, some sharpened pencil pointedly reminding of the need he had once harboured surely for being proper in the fulfilment of his obligations. Some preparation in setting out upon his own daily chore, some more servile attitude being feigned in order to get ahead with one more remuneration and providing of the dream which he and his forbearers had imposed upon their own very lot. Some feigned glance for Nick and his present tendency toward this culinary satisfaction self-delight and then some.
− ¿Shén nǐ cān? asked the waiter.
(silence)
Why he talking like I some foreigner or something? thought Nick.
− You don´t speak English, man?
− Chinese with Chinese customer, replied the waiter.
− I’ll have bird in window…hanging up.
− Shuō zhōng wén mǎi zhǔ zhōng guó. …Chinese with Chinese customer, repeated the waiter.
Nick could perceive some paler reflection or long lost triumph darting off some façade which the waiter had been trying to sustain for so many years. Some long ago lost expectation which had been wasted away, some other lost source of hope ebbing slowly out of reach and sinking hardly along the banks of the Xi Jiang. Some hoping to surface again and wondering if it ever would. Some eternal longing for one’s own return to some more motherly tongue, some more motherly tongue and desisting from the pinyin muck which were to go imposingly. Some pinyin muck ascending slowly from beneath the veneer and threatening to extinguish some sunrise which had warmed the faces of those who stood within its brilliance.
− Miss McGrath say I speak English! I´ll have…
Nick could suddenly sense some leaning motion of the waiter and tending toward some more implicit refusal of giving in to his stubborn diatribe. Some motion away from the tediousness which had befallen so cruelly upon his better intentions, some serving something up for this one or that had always gone so easily save for those moments which concurrently presented themselves.
− Chinese with Chinese customer, reiterated the waiter.
Before Nick could react accordingly, the thinnish man had followed through on his leaning motion and started toward a table near the door. There sat a young couple and not too much older than Nick himself. It seemed as if they were about to make their order and with no forthcoming opposition from the waiter, some more decidedly caucasian clientele having obviously been all too common in such a popular venue as this and Nick was quick to realize just how sheltered the confines of his familiar existence in the Sunset Park section of Brooklyn really was. Rarely did many such tǔ zhù visit his father’s restaurant, aside from some occasional teacher from the junior high school, while here they would seem to account for well more than half of the daily receipts. Some subsequent attempt at comprehending the waiter’s point of view did then dawn upon Nick but quickly began to doubt once more as the couple went shaking their heads from side to side in what appeared to Nick as some deliberately confusing gesture. Why he not listen to me? I don’t give any trouble. Just want bird in window. The waiter hesitated before seeming to consider leaving the younger pair to ponder over the menu a few minutes longer. Some foregone consideration for wanting to present Nick one more opportunity at acquiring this long-desired repast might have arisen if not for some unlikelier cry from across the room and inquiringly of some larger party just having cleared the heavy glass doors which separated the foyer and bottom step leadingly upwards to the street. Some larger gentleman in eager pursuit of some oriental feast and leadingly of what have might been some lesser-than-enthusiastic entourage edging carefully along toward the table which the thinnish waiter had signalled to in the adjoining dining room. Some hunger-driven aborigine in search of one more harried celebration or otherwise and was all Nick could do to set himself apart from such an ordinary lot. Now beginning to sense some sympathetic overture toward the waiter’s desire for linguistic cross cultural exclusion and hoping to gain some favor, he once more tried calling to the thinnish man who had by now vanished momentarily behind the temporary façade which marked off this dining room from the next.
− ¡Ăn yuàn yì yǎn qián! shouted Nick.
Some seconds had seemed to pass reluctantly when the waiter reappeared and Nick was none too quick to reiterate his entreaty, especially in light of how quickly the place had been filling up since he arrived. Some anxiety began to take hold regarding the dumplings his father would be expecting and the time it would take to return to Brooklyn, then going over why this language or that might not be of some utmost importance and choosing to conform to the waiter’s criteria. Some lateness being all too impenetrable for the feast which might never become and so Nick had needed to act decisively and so he did.
− Okay … kěn fù... happy now? Chinese with Chinese customer!
These people all dummies. Make me speak like a foreigner or something, just to get some bird hanging up in window. Miss McGrath say I speak good English now. She say ...
− ¿Shén nǐ cān? asked the waiter.
But Nick was still unsure as to whether he should reply. Some further consideration of the nature of some non-capitulation to the whims of those who would pretend to provide for his own dispensation did once again tend to present. Then suddenly in some otherwise more overpowering manner, for if not for some certain discomfort which he was beginning to feel and would have surely seen the waiter once again defer apathetically toward some other far off corner of the dining room.
− Ăn xū yāng! said Nick.
− Ĕr shí fēn zhōng, replied the waiter.
Twenty minute for what? Bird just hanging up in window! This dummy think I got nothing …
− ¿Nǐ hòu ĕr shí fēn zhōng? asked the waiter.
(silence)
Sounds and far off visions of fading embankments, some feel of newly mourned mist caressing Nick’s skin enticing this untimely recollection did seem to absolve him of any prejudice. That was then. Some choice taken precipitously it surely had not been, and of this he was assured as he became old enough to ponder fully the banalities of such a vulgar existence. Some time marked by this earthly promise and ne’er hoping to move beyond to some adjoining portal, some opening up to some other plane of intuition and knowing. Some curdling into the safety of considering that it certainly had not been his own choice to make, nor could it. Some choice taken surely and without bothering to delve into his own tenderer frame, searchingly and wondering if some time-worn vessel might have ever been able to penetrate the façade which seemed to encircle protectively this domain into which he had so unwittingly been brought, some tried earthly experience extending far off into and back towards the initial reaches of time itself. Some choice exerted and which did now present itself revealingly in some other guise, some revealing of the trials which were to become and Nick was obliged to react more quickly than the waiter could have intended.
− Měi hǎo. Ăn hòu, replied Nick.
Some disappointment regarding Nick’s initial decision to cede to the waiter’s request had now been rendered somewhat dull by his succumbing to the furtherer prospect of having to wait twenty minutes before being able to partake of this incidental repast. Some more succulent delight continuing to tempt Nick upon first glance and then darting away remorsefully, or so he would have liked them to presume. Some slightly tanned morsels of shaded glaze, some honeyed romantic setting and upon once more did lift the spirits of such a stifled lot. Such a lot soured by the rigors of having to put forth so on such a daily basis lest the spoils of this newer world should become so elusive. Then thinking twice, some one on either side pressing forwards in some vainer attempt at one’s own carnal self-understanding. Some tastier dish wonderingly and asking coquettishly about whether she might have come sooner or not at all. Some tidier time to pass and Nick could only admire the scholarship with which the thinnish waiter seemed to attend to his now impoverished ritual. Some inability to desist from the nagging tendency he might suffer toward likening these glisteningpieces of tendered flesh to the rounded silhouette he might have once beheld as she were exiting too hastily from some earlier morning bath. Upon passing her house each day and pausing in hope of spying some more casual gesture, some glancing up toward the second floor bedroom where she had been alighting since their arrival from Fujian. Nick stared at the ceiling and wonderingly, as if someone else might have been occupying the very table at which he presently sat. Then too wonderingly and began to become fixed upon one or two more imperfections in the level structure which tended to limit the majesty which seemed to distinguish this place from the others he had passed along the way. Some higher structure becoming joined at some geometric union of the three, then three more plus one and might hark back to the task which had gone so belatedly in Mr. Hernandez’s class. Some recollection of the maths examination which she must have been fancying on this day and at this very hour or so Nick must have been mistaken, some greater time expanse having had transpired since his earlier morning departure into the 9th Avenue subway having taken its toll. Some poring over lemmas and definitions too unmoving to become anything other than what they might have represented truly and some pastime in teasing her along the way with who might she be with and what might she be doing? Some gender reversal and now some complicity within one’s own frame of mind and pondering herself once more, some better lemma expressed and beginning to question the validity of all that she would now be doing. Some where is Nick and then why is oh he is just lazy like his stupid friends she must be thinking really going and setting off onto some newer things and pondering ponderingly of herself as Nick sat patiently and considering just how quickly he had been made to feel alone in this place. Some vegetable egg drop dropping languidly down and away from the waiter’s thinnish frame and placingly on the table in front of them. Some vegetable egg drop being languidly placed and provoking Nick to at once reconsider the honeyed delight he had once been assured.
─¿ Zěn yàng měi ge rén lǐng qǔ shí wù? asked Nick angrily.
− Nà jiǎn yì. Yā gèng shí jiān, replied the waiter.
Nick’s sudden outburst of impatience went upon noticing that the younger couple had already been receiving their vegetable egg drop and would have seemed to typify some demeanor which had always gone so blatantly in the boy’s disfavor. He might still have had the opportunity to find her alone one day and cross over into this other place, some other impatience for having been resigned for too long and for too much. Some thinking that he could have just as easily turned away, some complete disregard for the entanglement which might have ensued and gone on to live some life of yearning, some endless incarceration bearing down on him and those in his own huán jìng. Some shadow of a human being having to rely on the likes of Renhan Lin for the rest of his tirelessly diminishing days and never wishing to elucidate much further than some occasional mishap partaken wholly out-of-turn, some latent responsibility missed or put off or simply having arrived too late. Some three-o’clock-return which he had promised his father …
− ¿Nǐ yuàn wàng chá? asked the waiter.
− Don’t want no tea! Nick shot back. Want food!
… which he had promised his father might now very well seem to be fading into the shadow of some less-than-expected event occurring wholly out-of-turn. Some less-than-expected event occurring …
− ¿Nǐ yuàn wàng miàn tiáo? Don’t want no noodle! Just bird in window! O.K.?