when you hate them as much as i do (what?! there’s so much pressure to be happy and have people come out and celebrate your existence and stuff..), it’s hard to admit you enjoy the attention.
another year, another birthday. another retelling of your birth from your mother.
“today’s your birthday!?” mila’s mom said. “mila’s birthday’s the tenth. wow, sometimes even i forget…but i just send her money so it’s ok.”
mila and her family lived across the hall from us in st. louis. the front doors of our third floor apartments faced each other. the back doors of our apartments faced each other. when the front doors were open, our living room was their living room and when the back doors were open (it was always open because it was so hot) their kitchen was our kitchen. both mothers would talk to each other while cooking in their respective apartments for their ill-tempered husbands and crazy children. mila and i were watching TV, outside catching fireflies, eating little debbie snack cakes or at paloma’s apartment on the second floor jumping on her water bed.
it’d been 18 years since we lived in st. louis. we hadn’t seen the zhou family since moving from the nice neighborhood on clayton road. mila’s mom and dad hadn’t changed. i instantly recognized them.
my mom was changing out of her costume when mila’s mom approached her a few months ago. they were both in princeton performing in a central jersey chinese choir concert.
“do you remember me?” she asked my mom.
“no..”
“i’ve been looking and looking at you trying to place where i know you from…” her eyes widened. ”don’t you remember? we were neighbors..in st. louis.”
there are insane moments in life when you wonder why and how these sorts of things can happen. why out of all the places in the world and social events you attend you are reunited with certain people from the past. it’s a great feeling. and i’m sure for my mother, the moment made sense to her.
now here she was with her husband sitting in my mother’s house in edison, nj. 18 years and x miles later, eating and reminiscing and talking about my birthday. mila was in california, my dad was in china so both families were equally represented.
“money’s not meaningful to give anymore,” my mom replied. “need to give her meaningful things.”
“well mila needs the money, haha.”
haha
who doesn’t?
“i pretty much stopped asking them for money as soon as i got a job in high school,” i said. “there’s not much that i want or need that i can’t or don’t want to get myself.”
i think i said that; or i said a bunch of other crap that meant i was obviously self-sufficient.
mila’s dad interjected.
“xiwang, you should have been a born a boy.”
“yes!” i said.
i think about that a lot. it was weird hearing it out loud; said by someone who knew me only as a six- to seven-year-old girl.
“yes!” my mom said.
and then she began.
“everyone thought i was going to have a boy. my mom calculated (suan guo) it, my dad calculated (suan guo) it..the way i was carrying her, the way i felt..[something here about how her water didn't break first but something else happened and when that other thing happened it also meant you were going to have a boy].” she became very excited.
“when she came out she even looked like a boy! she had a full head of short black hair that stood up on end, like a boy. she didn’t cry; just let out one wail when the doctor slapped her butt.” when i tell people this part i also add “because they thought i was dead! ha!”
“she never cried as a baby. she was so good and she always ever just smiled. all the time.”
i’m not sure what it is but the story of my birth is one i will never tire of hearing. there are many other details about 4 august, 1984 but this year she chose to tell this angle.
i love this story, and quite honestly, it’s probably the best part about my birthday.
