Memoirs of an Ice-Cream Lady (Part 21)
By Emily Ho
Editor’s Note: The author runs an ice-cream parlor on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island. When time allows, she draws caricatures and writes. The following are semi-autobiographical anecdotes blending fact and fiction.
The Little Red Guard
The doorbell rang. Showing little expression, Melody opened the door.
Eager for answers, Emily started to talk immediately after stepping inside: “I understand that it isn’t easy for a school girl like you to work, especially when you’ve never worked before. I don’t expect anyone to help me forever. But please tell me why you suddenly want to quit? Did your friends who came to the shop today say something bad about your work?” Emily still preferred that it be someone else’s fault.
“It’s no longer your business. I decided to quit!” Melody replied indifferently.
“Alright! I understand. But I must clarify that I never took HK$5 off your salary. The salary was what you, your mom and I agreed.”
“Oh! Was it? Then don’t hire anyone if you don’t have money!” Melody’s eyes kept wandering to a TV screen.
“What do you mean? Why would I cheat my own cousin? If I didn’t pay you as agreed, why not tell me a month ago?” Emily began to lose her calmness.
“I won’t discuss it. Please leave. Now I don’t need to sweep the street (a little porch area at Emily’s shop) like you do!”
Slap! For the first time ever, Emily slapped someone’s face. Remarkably, it was a person once so dear to her. But no one could accuse her of something she neither did, nor intended. No one should belittle her for cleaning the shop!
“Listen, girl,” Emily said. “Why despise my hard work? Yes, I mop the floor, but I’m proud of it because it’s my shop. Here’s the money you claim that I owe you. Now you’re fired!” Furious, but firm, Emily felt flames in her eyes when recalling the hard times as she’d worked alone.
“Woo, woo! You hit me. I’ll call the police,” Melody cried.
“Go ahead! Let the police come, you heartless, little Red Guard." (China’s Communist Party used the guards for persecution in the deadly Cultural Revolution.) Emily slammed the door and left.
On the way home, she felt hurt and disoriented, no longer even like herself. What exactly had happened?
Emily hardly believed she could have hit Melody, although the girl had deserved it. Somehow Emily would have preferred if Melody had stolen money, not fabricated talk of exploitation. They could have discussed any problems about the salary or work. Melody didn’t need to frame her older cousin. The decent-looking girl from a good family and studying at a prestigious high school had turned into a crafty Red Guard willing to lose her heart and soul for $5 an hour.
Maybe Emily hadn’t noticed changes in Melody a few years earlier after her family moved to an upper-class neighborhood. Perhaps some of the young people who dressed like their wild-looking idols were more decent and kind, Emily pondered.
Reversed Blessings
Even while struggling with the notion of being looked down upon and framed by her own well-off, young cousin, Emily wasn’t intimidated. Born into a poor family, she had learned the importance of hard work and to appreciate people’s inner beauty, especially since she’d been a very ugly, little girl.
Lacking good looks isn’t shameful, nor is being poor. The shame belongs to lazy people or those who frivolously spend all their money or time. Being good-looking isn’t worth pride, nor is wealth unless you’ve created it with your own hands.
Sometimes Emily feels grateful for the humble background that gave her room to imagine and the strength to tolerate hardships. After all, imagination is free, and with it, little Emily could have not just all that she wanted, but anything.
In a reverse way, such things are blessings.
Coming Soon:
Dreams Flow on a Tabletop
(more Memoirs of an Ice-Cream Lady)
ARCHIVES
|
