possible onto his tray—pizza and fried chicken, a hamburger with French fries, a
grilled cheese sandwich, a chocolate doughnut. Everyone except Helen had laughed at him, and June made him return most of
the food, but Gerard didn’t understand why what he’d done seemed so funny to them.
Soon after her cousins returned to Los Angeles, June found a photograph of herself holding her cat that had been left out
on her desk. Someone had drawn pointed fangs on the cat, and June herself had been given blue pimples and two horns sticking
out of her head. A caption scrawled below read “THE FAT GANG.”Her brother laughed out loud when she showed it to him, but
he said he wasn’t responsible. “It must have been Gerard,”he told her. June felt rather vexed by Gerard’s prank. She had always
been sensitive about her weight. She wasn’t fat for an American, just fat for a Chinese. So now the American diet had wreaked
its havoc on Gerard as well ...
She dozed off and woke up again in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light turned off and her uncle at the top of
the stairs shaking something out. It looked as if he were straightening a pillowcase, or maybe he was exercising, she couldn’t
tell in the darkness, but his movements were as frantic as ever, and she wondered if he would ever go to bed.
In the morning, when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a large oil painting on the wall of a lurid, industrial
Venice. The domed buildings were infernally lit, lapped by dank green water, and a small pudgy man gazed up at a tiny, ineffectual
moon. June couldn’t help but smile. Her parents had bought similar stuff at a sidewalk art sale, and she had upset them one
day when she took all their ugly paintings down and hid them in the basement.
On her way upstairs to take a shower, June passed by the kitchen and said hello to her aunt, who looked up from the batter
she was mixing and gave her a slight smile. Her gray sweater vest looked oddly familiar to June, and it was a bit of shock
when she realized that the vest was something her sister had worn in high school. Her uncle had over the years called up her
father to ask for their old, spare clothes, and June’s family had gone through their closets, weeding out all the things that
no longer fit or were out of fashion and then sending these in a box to Los Angeles.
Gerard came out of the bathroom, and June noticed he had not flushed the toilet. She couldn’t stop herself and said in a light,
bantering voice, “Gerard, can’t you flush?”
“What?” her uncle said, appearing around the corner. “He didn’t flush the toilet? What kind of person are you, Gerard?”
“Sorry,”Gerard muttered.
For breakfast, they ate a fruitcake her aunt had made by substituting olive oil for butter because Gerard was on a diet. The
doctor had said he needed to lose twenty pounds and also that his cholesterol was too high.
Helen asked june how long she was going to stay with them, and June replied she was leaving early the next morning. Everyone
was shocked by this news, and her uncle especially seemed disappointed. “I thought you will be here the entire week,”he said.
“I’m meeting a friend in San Diego,”June said. “Didn’t my father tell you?”
“Why you get your father to call me?” her uncle said. “Don’t you know you can call me yourself?”
“I thought it would be easier if my dad called you,”June said, feeling embarrassed. She had to admit that it didn’t make much
sense asking her father to be the intermediary, but whenever she spoke to his side of the family she felt they didn’t understand
exactly what she was saying. Even with her father, she often had to raise her voice and repeat herself to get her meaning
across. But the fact that her father was unable to communicate clearly to his own brother about the length of her stay made
June suspect the problem wasn’t a language barrier at
grilled cheese sandwich, a chocolate doughnut. Everyone except Helen had laughed at him, and June made him return most of
the food, but Gerard didn’t understand why what he’d done seemed so funny to them.
Soon after her cousins returned to Los Angeles, June found a photograph of herself holding her cat that had been left out
on her desk. Someone had drawn pointed fangs on the cat, and June herself had been given blue pimples and two horns sticking
out of her head. A caption scrawled below read “THE FAT GANG.”Her brother laughed out loud when she showed it to him, but
he said he wasn’t responsible. “It must have been Gerard,”he told her. June felt rather vexed by Gerard’s prank. She had always
been sensitive about her weight. She wasn’t fat for an American, just fat for a Chinese. So now the American diet had wreaked
its havoc on Gerard as well ...
She dozed off and woke up again in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light turned off and her uncle at the top of
the stairs shaking something out. It looked as if he were straightening a pillowcase, or maybe he was exercising, she couldn’t
tell in the darkness, but his movements were as frantic as ever, and she wondered if he would ever go to bed.
In the morning, when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a large oil painting on the wall of a lurid, industrial
Venice. The domed buildings were infernally lit, lapped by dank green water, and a small pudgy man gazed up at a tiny, ineffectual
moon. June couldn’t help but smile. Her parents had bought similar stuff at a sidewalk art sale, and she had upset them one
day when she took all their ugly paintings down and hid them in the basement.
On her way upstairs to take a shower, June passed by the kitchen and said hello to her aunt, who looked up from the batter
she was mixing and gave her a slight smile. Her gray sweater vest looked oddly familiar to June, and it was a bit of shock
when she realized that the vest was something her sister had worn in high school. Her uncle had over the years called up her
father to ask for their old, spare clothes, and June’s family had gone through their closets, weeding out all the things that
no longer fit or were out of fashion and then sending these in a box to Los Angeles.
Gerard came out of the bathroom, and June noticed he had not flushed the toilet. She couldn’t stop herself and said in a light,
bantering voice, “Gerard, can’t you flush?”
“What?” her uncle said, appearing around the corner. “He didn’t flush the toilet? What kind of person are you, Gerard?”
“Sorry,”Gerard muttered.
For breakfast, they ate a fruitcake her aunt had made by substituting olive oil for butter because Gerard was on a diet. The
doctor had said he needed to lose twenty pounds and also that his cholesterol was too high.
Helen asked june how long she was going to stay with them, and June replied she was leaving early the next morning. Everyone
was shocked by this news, and her uncle especially seemed disappointed. “I thought you will be here the entire week,”he said.
“I’m meeting a friend in San Diego,”June said. “Didn’t my father tell you?”
“Why you get your father to call me?” her uncle said. “Don’t you know you can call me yourself?”
“I thought it would be easier if my dad called you,”June said, feeling embarrassed. She had to admit that it didn’t make much
sense asking her father to be the intermediary, but whenever she spoke to his side of the family she felt they didn’t understand
exactly what she was saying. Even with her father, she often had to raise her voice and repeat herself to get her meaning
across. But the fact that her father was unable to communicate clearly to his own brother about the length of her stay made
June suspect the problem wasn’t a language barrier at
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