Eat a Bowl of Tea. Louis Chu

Loy is a very good boy,” said Wing Sim.

      “It’s much quieter in the small town,” said Lee Gong. Inwardly he was delighted at what he had just heard about Ben Loy. “The air is much better. There are many temptations in a big city. Worst of all is New York.”

      “That’s what Ben Loy’s father said about the big city,” chuckled the restaurant manager. “He wanted his son to get away from New York so as to stay away from its evil influences.”

      Lee Gong mentally compared Ben Loy with Wing Sim. Ben Loy was younger and had a fairer complexion, slightly taller. All around a better son-in-law, he told himself. More attractive physically. His daughter Mei Oi would not object to Ben Loy as a husband.

      “You … you have your family here, of course?” he asked.

      “Yes,” replied Wing Sim. “My wife and children are here.”

      The kitchen door flew open and Ben Loy emerged with a large bowl of rice in one hand and the beef with tomatoes in the other. Lee Gong sat watching, privately elated at the thought that his prospective son-in-law was serving him. He decided he liked Ben Loy’s gait. A fast, deliberate gait. This would indicate the boy was alert and conscientious. Not lazy or listless. That’s what he liked in a young man.

      “Here it is, mister,” Ben Loy set the dish and the rice down on the table. “We have a pretty good cook here. The beef and tomatoes are cooked Chinese style, with garlic and black beans.”

      The stranger from New York smiled. He was pleased with the waiter’s friendliness.

      “An old man like me doesn’t eat too much,” he laughed as he lifted his bamboo chopsticks for a frontal attack on the beef and tomatoes. “H’mn, good taste.”

      Ben Loy could see the satisfaction on the old man’s face. He wanted to be friendly, hoping to earn a sizable tip. Ben Loy saw no objectionable characteristics in his customer. He wasn’t the hard-to-die type. After more than two years in the restaurant business, the waiter could spot the customers who wanted something extra, something for nothing. Ben Loy was always ready for these people. If they asked for kumquats when kumquats were not on the menu, he would point to the menu and say, “Sorry, no kumquats.” He was certain this old man was not one of those. Looking at his smooth and uncalloused hands, Ben Loy concluded that the old man was not one who worked at manual labor. His curiosity got the better of him. “Mr. Lee, what is your esteemed profession?”

      Lee Gong laughed. “I’m an unemployed citizen of New York.”

      “You mean you’re retired?” asked Ben Loy.

      “Pretty soon I’ll retire … retire to Brooklyn for good.”

      They both laughed. Ben Loy knew Mr. Lee was referring to the Evergreen Cemetery in Brooklyn.

      “The new generation is much better off than when we were kids,” Lee Gong continued. “You are lucky to be born in the present generation.”

      “Well,” Ben Loy replied, “there are advantages and disadvantages.”

      “Look, right now you’re working in an air-conditioned restaurant. A few years back …”

      A couple came in and Ben Loy excused himself. In a few minutes he returned with a porcelain pot of tea. “This is Jasmine tea, just freshly brewed,” he said. “We don’t offer this brand of tea to everybody.”

      “Little brother, you have afforded me a big face,” said the white-haired man graciously. He felt reassured by the young man’s friendliness. He had looked for some resemblance of Ben Loy to his father. He noticed the fullness of the lips, the small nose, and the bushy eyebrows. All bore similarity to the elder Wang. When the young man walked, the swinging gait of the ancient model was remarkably there. Lee Gong was tempted to mention the young man’s father as a very good friend of his. But he was a wise old man and he held his tongue. He said instead, “Do you live with your family here in Stanton?”

      “I’m not that lucky.” Ben Loy shook his head. “Elder brother Wing Sim,” and he nodded toward the manager who was at the counter, “he’s married and the father of three children, two boys and a girl.”

      “I bet you have lots of girl friends.”

      Ben Loy grinned shyly. “I have no girl friends. I’m just like a pig. No girl would like a pig.”

      Lee Gong finished his lunch and said something about having to go and look for his friend who owed him money. He left a thirty-five-cent tip, paid the bill and left the restaurant.

      VI

      The following afternoon Lee Gong appeared at the Money Come at 1:30, before anybody else would show up. He had wanted to get there early so he could talk to Wang Wah Gay alone.

      “You and I have been friends for many years,” Lee Gong began. “I know you just as well as you know me. You know I have no money. But I have a little girl back home in Sunwei.”

      “Heh, heh,” chuckled Wah Gay. “Was that why you asked me who that young man was?” He felt flattered that his long-time friend thought well enough of his son to want him for a son-in-law. “Ben Loy is a good little boy,” announced the father proudly. “He’s working in Stanton now, a hard working boy.”

      “I only want a hard working boy,” said Lee Gong. “A good boy. And when you want a daughter-in-law, all you want is a good girl, isn’t that it?”

      “Yes, I suppose it’s all that matters.” Wah Gay removed the cigar from his mouth and stuck his free hand in his pants pocket. “Heh heh, it’s an excellent idea. A good girl. That’s all anybody can ask for.”

      “Our Mei Oi is eighteen.”

      “But nowadays you would have to get the consent of the young ones,” reflected Wah Gay. “You can’t just marry them off blindly like in the old days. They have to like each other.”

      “That’s right, I agree with you. No use forcing them into marriage.”

      Wah Gay thought for a moment. “I’ll send the young one home,” he said finally. “Tomorrow I’ll write a few words to my woman. I’ll tell her Ben Loy is coming home to get married. She will be very pleased.”

      Lee Gong said he would write to his wife too.

      Without having broached the subject to Ben Loy, Wah Gay proceeded to write to his wife, Lau Shee. To him Ben Loy’s marriage was something that had to be attended to sooner or later. The sooner, the better. If Ben Loy should not like Lee Gong’s daughter, he could always get another girl and be married. A sense of male superiority came over him, and he almost laughed out loud. A daughter-in-law is somebody else’s daughter. It should not be too difficult to obtain a daughter-in-law. There are many eligible daughters. Ben Loy would only have to choose. Ben Loy is a good boy. The girl who marries him is very lucky indeed.

      The next day Wah Gay airmailed the letter to his wife. A sensation of relief swept over him, for he had wanted to send that letter for a long time. It had taken his old friend Lee Gong to make him pick up the writing brush. He took out another cigar and lit it. His face showed an inward glow.

      VII

      Ben Loy and Chin Yuen roomed together in a small apartment just across the street from the restaurant, one of two maintained by the China Pagoda for its employees. The living facilities served as an inducement for workers to come to Stanton; for experience had shown that cooks and waiters were reluctant to take jobs in small towns.

      One night in the winter of 1942, shortly after eighteen-year-old Ben Loy had started working there, the restaurant closed early because of the blizzard-like weather. Snow had been falling since mid-morning and no one had come into the restaurant since. The cooks and waiters sat around and chatted idly until it became apparent that the weather was not going to let up. Then manager Wing Sim sent them home for the night.

      Chin