The Scent of the Gods

Seven

Seven _ In Great-Grandfather's house, just after sunset we would walk into the dining room for dinner. We would sit at the long table in the middle of the room, where there were many chairs. The table and chairs were made of blackwood, and there was no tablecloth. At St. Catherine, where I had seen Sister Magdalen taking the kindergarten children into the parlor to have milk and biscuits at the round marble table, there would be a tablecloth , a blue lace tablecloth that hung over the edges of the table. While Sister Magdalen talked, the children would play with the blue lace tablecloth, their fingers tracing all the tiny holes and curves. But in GreatGrandfather 's house, no one did that. All of us sat at the blackwood table and looked at our faces looking back at us. The blackwood was always clean, and shone with pol172 ish. We would sit there in our own places, that were ours because they had always been. In Great-Grandfather's house things that had always been were as if they would always be, having no beginning and no end. I never asked if they would always be. It never occurred to me to ask. When we walked into the dining room that night, the grown-ups were leaning on the table and talking to one another in low, serious voices. Then Auntie Mei glanced up and saw us and she tapped the table. The talking stopped. After we sat down, she smiled at us and said, "Is the grasscutter still working outside?" When Li Shin told her he was, she said to Grandma, who was just then coming into the room, "We should invite him to eat with us." "I don't think he wants to do that," said Uncle Wilfred. He looked at Grandma, and Grandma nodded as she sat down. She said, "No, it will make him uncomfortable to eat with us." "Is he going to eat with the amahs, Grandma?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "He likes to do that?" "Yes, they have a nice time eating and talking." Li Yuen picked up the soya sauce bottle and sprinkled soya sauce all over his carrots. As he was putting the bottle back down, he asked, "What are the branches for, Grandma?" "They are just to have," she said. She looked at me, because I was pushing my carrots to one side of my plate. "Su Yen, people are starving in China," she said to me. "Carrots taste funny," I said. Li Yuen was looking at Grandma. "But what are the branches for?" he asked again. "Just to have," Grandma said, dipping into the soup THE SCENT OF THE GODS 173 THE SCENT OF THE GODS 174 bowl with a big wooden spoon. She scooped out stalks of wet green watercress and left them on his plate. Uncle Wilfred was watching her, and then I saw him push his fork into the soup. When he pulled it out, the watercress was caught on it. He dragged the watercress onto his plate, twisting the stalks into his rice. Without looking up, he said, "Don't you think you should tell them?" "This matter is not for children," said Grandma. Uncle Wilfred looked at her and said, "What about Li Shin? I think he's old enough now." I looked at Li Shin, who looked back at me and winked. "You'd better eat your carrots, Chief," he said. Li Yuen turned to Uncle Wilfred. "Tell us what?" he asked. Grandma shook her head. "Eat your dinner," she told Li Yuen. I sat staring across the room, where wineglasses were kept in glass cupboards lining the wall on one side of the window. Nobody used them anymore, because visitors seldom came to the house, and yet the amahs kept the glasses washed and shiny just in case, standing them up on the glass shelves like rows of oleander flowers. I could hear the other grown-ups in their places all around the table, separate forks and spoons clinking on separate plates. They did not join in the conversation. "It will be better for Daisy to go to the hospital," said Uncle Wilfred. I turned back to Grandma. She ran a slice of raw onion through the peanut sauce in front of her and said firmly, "No," and slipped the onion into her mouth. "At the hospital they...