All That Work and Still No Boys

All That Work and Still No Boys

1 Barbara’s mother needs a new kidney, and Lawrence is the best match. “No, no,” says her mother. “One of the girls will be fine.” “It’s okay, Ma,” says Lawrence. Barbara sees him reach for something small at the top of Ma’s shelf, so she knows it’s costing him to sound enthusiastic. It’s an old family habit, lying while turning away. “I’ve got two, way more than I need. You take one. I want you to have it.” Ma nods but doesn’t answer, another deft deception, the yes that’s really a no. Ma has no intention of letting him give her a kidney. She’s already made that perfectly clear to Barbara. She’s All That Work and Still No Boys 2 A l l T h a t W o r k a n d S t i l l N o B o y s got four daughters but only one Lawrence. She wants the girls to draw straws from the second-best broom in the house. “Let’s have lunch,” says Ma. “I’ve got everything ready.” Lawrence sets the table while Barbara serves the soup. The battle’s under way, and Barbara needs to keep her strength up. She takes her mother to see the doctor once again. “Mrs. Yin,” says Dr. Hu kindly, “it’s really not a matter of patient discretion. The tests tell us that Lawrence is the best family match. He’s young and healthy and should have no problem relying on his remaining kidney for the rest of his life.” Up on the examining table, Ma swings her legs like a girl on the playground kicking higher. The paper underneath her makes a cheerful crunch. Barbara sits in the corner under the color illustrations of kidneys, heart, and stomach, which she’s glad she doesn’t have to look at, not facing them like her mother, though Ma is smiling brightly at handsome Dr. Hu. For such an ill woman, she looks surprisingly healthy—stout and pink, with thick, short hair dyed inky black. “I’ve been feeling a lot better,” she tells him. “Maybe an operation isn’t necessary at all.” This is not new, what she is claiming. Dr. Hu has heard it from her before. He looks at Barbara, coconspirator in their plan to save Ma’s life. Make her do it, his eyes are flashing. Barbara bends her head to hide her embarrassment and frustration. Dr. Hu has no right to expect a miracle from Barbara. After all, he’s Chinese too: he knows what it’s like to stare up at a mountain. “Any luck?” asks Tracy when she calls. She is sixteen months younger than Barbara and does her best to share the load. In nine years, their mother had five children: Barbara, Tracy, Janet, Robin, and Lawrence, and Barbara, as the oldest, helped Ma take care of them all. Tracy groans when Barbara reports that Ma hasn’t changed her mind. “Did you have the doctor tell her again about how the best match means the least chance of rejection?” “I asked him again, and he told her again.” A l l T h a t W o r k a n d S t i l l N o B o y s 3 “And did you have him remind her that Lawrence is the same blood type?” “You take her next time. Since you know all the right questions.” Tracy apologizes. They’re both exhausted. They take turns driving to see Ma every other weekend. It’s too far to drive and too short to fly so of course they drive, three hours in traffic each way. Barbara and Tracy are in San Francisco. Ma’s in the foothills east of Sacramento. The others live far away, except for Lawrence; he lives five miles from Ma. “Dr. Hu said that if the donor isn’t a good match, her own defense system might act to reject a ‘foreign invader.’ And Ma sort of sniffed at him and said, ‘We Chinese. We let everybody in.’” Tracy laughs. She’s probably sitting up on her roof. She’s got a little deck up there with two metal chairs and a tiny round table; Barbara thinks she imagines herself in Paris. Tracy looks like a Parisian, small-boned and upright. She lives with her partner, Heather, in the roomy upstairs flat, and they rent the lower unit...