Into a Pinyin Sunrise PART 1A Chapter by Anthony DeMarco First-generation adolescent Chinese immigrants trying to make sense of the divide they had been thrust into, the New China which had always been known simply as Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Xiaoling would sit staring at the problem which had become hers. Some special congruence could not have assumed such overwhelming challenge if not for the misconception which had presented just as she passed hurriedly through the front garden adorningly of her family home. Some giving way onto the canvass which had forever become her own 48th Street. Some thinking occasionally back to those days of transcontinental retreat and vessels reeking with day-old waste bringing about some more ancestral satisfaction and more so of a time when this very block had first been procured. As some special congruence would be befitting of one more figure upon the next, then upsettingly so, as corner upon corner could not possibly coincide and why should she not begin to draw upon those concepts which had been so afforded in the first place? Some still reflecting back upon events past and striving to unearth those postulates which did lend some finer meaning to the tales which her mother and grandmother had recounted over and over when she was a mere child.. Some confidence built up over many lifetimes of achievement and who might have also ventured forward to this newer existence should they have had the opportunity. Wonderingly so, some consideration given to those discoveries which had so formulated the basis of to which all Xiaoling might ever hope to aspire. Some lemmas proceeding concurrently, some contemplating the now seemlier result looking over and once more upon Xiaoling. Some oh yes within this momentary contemplation did characterize some present figure which now went strugglingly and still poorly understood -- but why? Some givens and lesser- known hypotheses had done little to reinforce some tenacity which she and her family had always maintained for never giving in. Some thinking incessantly as to whether she could ever go back and ne’er pretending that it would ever prove to be so impossible. Her father had returned at an advanced age, some tenderer mind rendition sustaining him through the harder times which had led up to their emigration from Fujian. Some ne’er taking nothing for granted had provided the motivation for such rigor, lemmas accordingly expressed and then some cleverer replacement. Some affording of one’s more proper manner for deciding upon this or that comprehensibly. Some more complementary nature should not have had to protagonize here, and she bristled gently at the thought that this was all she could conjure. Nor rear itself upon the thoughts of Xiaoling and she hastily disregarded some remainder which had so unknowingly appeared. Some ninetydegree revelation which having had caused some more empowering sensation deeply within those younger students could only serve as some distraction to her here. Some variable protaganism in the textbooks she had been given to cherish like no other, some stiller unknown and how could that possibly be of any use to her now -- but why? Some givens and lesser-known hypotheses running throughout and testing intricately some more finely-woven fabric beneath which she had always been able to find some easier repose.
Xiaoling replied angrily to her mother’s request to wait for her younger brother. She needed to get to class as quickly as possible today, some already overextended time at the breakfast table having prolonged too much as it were. Today she would sit for the examination which had been so long in the offing. Mr. Hernandez had been adamant as to the time when all examinees were to arrive and she knew it would have been well warranted, it being he who assumed. Some more important matter had always been to the liking of Xiaoling and the sort who would make themselves sought after by those older boys had never been held too highly in esteem by either her or the Huan family. Some glancing down quickly into one darkened alley did place sufficiently she who had formerly been her closest friend into doubt -- ¿Dong Er shén nǐ bàn? Then some crumpled figure bending lowly into what would have been the love of Dong Er had only perplexed Xiaoling and wonderingly as to whether any lasting satisfaction could be gained from such carnal insignificance. Some moving more swiftly could only now reinforce the notion of what was to be gained and she hurried past the vegetable market which had always marked some virtual beginning of her matinal journey. Come now, come lowly and humbly be thy crown to wit Xiaoling had always admired those sweetest refrains in a language which had seemed so foreign on those first of days. Some thirst for seeking out that which might eventually become her greatest salvation but more so. Some intellectual yearning calming her once churning breast as she waited patiently within the rest of hers and Fujian province, some fading graying embankment recessing slowly and providing all the encouragement she would ever need. Some insatiable thirst for going off and wondering had always been the source of some familiar contention as if not knowing had been peculiar to her alone. Her mother had certainly been blessed with some finer notion about when and how one’s own opportunity should be approached but never seemed too keen on inoculating Xiaoling with those principles which had always been thought of as being tendered upon some more inferior notion of self preservation. Now crossing the intersection along some more diagonal path did call to mind her mother’s advice about being too injudicious which in measured dose might even gratify. Some more physically telling circumstance had always required some more measured frame of thought and this she knew from the outset of her deed. Some scarcity of motion along this still slumbered avenue and would have startled even that most vigilant of pedestrian. Some urgency for arriving on time had provoked her into filtering her mother’s heeding along some more sheltered agenda, some vehicle moving more swiftly than she might have originally perceived.
Xiaoling howled her wrath at the driver who had rushed behind her. Too close, she thought -- tài jie jìn -- too close. There had been far too many like that since the taxistas had begun surfacing along Fifth Avenue. Some te llevo baratito would always prove to be too omnipotent when set against the welfare of the likes of Xiaoling and she quickly learned that the best she could do was forget it and keep on in that vane from which all of this had originally been borne. Some sitting and waiting patiently as the throng would be about to depart and wondering as to whether any good would be about to descend upon this imminent emancipation from strife and inopportunity. Some day school which she could recall barely projecting its sharpest rebuke inside her head and still counting in back-turned integers -- earliest survival for the homeland but still they had been encouraged to look towards afar and relishing some horizon calling, some hastened entreaty to the vast fields of virgin volition which were to become theirs. Then some elderly gentleman searching for the key which were to open some portal beneath one cloudier day, some greener pastures sheltering those hidden lives against the temptation to remain and forswear the open sea in remuneration for so little. Someone’s calling forth toward some taxistas edging nearer to the precipice which might ever define some more curious determination -- te llevo allí or te llevo what could be the difference it was all just some other manner of speaking some other idiom pricking at us all te llevo baratito some language from another part of some other place and it was all so close some incessant chatter with te llevo and te llevo allí or aquí with here or there and they drive like they speak like they oh why should they not enjoy the same opportunities as the rest of us? Some going all about from one place to the next in search of those who might require those who might need oh they drive and dance like they speak te llevo or te llevo allí. Some bringing from here to there and having arrived to this newer place of business ne’er gone awry, some business soaring and moving faster and faster until one could only recall and wonder as to the utility of counting upon this 8th Ave. looking over some sunrise in this borough by the sea but are they not all by the sea? Some having journeyed from afar and so far in search of all this which might still show some promise. Some promise overlooking this newer frontier, some newer sunrise day and did sufficiently place Xiaoling squarely within the throes of those who might be lumbering toward success. Why should she have had to atone for the lack of initiative which her parents had nurtured back in Fujian? Then some sheathe for protecting herself from the barbs which might follow, some sheathe with which to mask her just tendered loins from that generational outburst which had forever been underlying some slightest hint or remark and could have been offered completely out- of-hand. Chóng fǎn Fujian her parents were to hear from those who had come over years before from across the strait and being completely at odds with all that Xiaoling had ever come to expect from such a place so otherwise accommodating. That some cycle of generational rejection could have spawned this great community might only further her determination to see through toward some final conquest, some coming upon equally or even surpassing those mexicanos for whom 48th St. had provided some easier means for reward.
Nick was always waiting on the corner of 8th Ave. and 48th St. at this time of the morning. Now seeing how close Xiaoling had come to getting struck by some speeding taxi caused him to express some consternation at both but particularly at her. Some concern for those in his own locale would have never been his alone, as if procrastination did ever present him some other reward. It did not. Hóng Fán Wāng had come to detest his given name -- Hóng for big or eastern bean goose, Fán for cage and Wāng for expanse of water. What’s that? he would beam at Miss McGrath upon being told of the meaning of his name within some cultural pride foray. What the hell is that, man? Big bean goose in cage -- and no water for me. Bú kè yong. Can’t swim, man! The Chinese teachers would always find some cleverer way to avoid having to address him by his newly acquired vulgar denomination. Nick. It appeared to them as some affront to the mission to which they had been dedicated since arriving to these shores. Pleasingly and with sufficient relief had they welcomed the notion that Hóng Fán was to be transferred out of their charge as bilinguals, for it was commonly felt that the boy could begin to flourish in his own right. Nick had certainly been more to his own liking and he brandished it with delight, even though many in his circle would at times casually refer to him only obliquely as Nick and coupled with some carefully chosen profanity either in jest or otherwise. The name would along with his demeanor usually invite certain liberties among his friends and some kinder encounter would always be welcoming.
Xiaoling had listened passively to such a remark before.
(silence)
Nick was by now counting on some later commentary by Xiaoling and seemed bitterly disappointed by the meager remark she had had to offer. His eyes beamed sharply into the face of Xiaoling and what was she determined to be some delicately raised forehead, she still glancing down the avenue as if searching for some taxista which had caused her to react so anxiously. Some newer coiffure would frame Nick’s face quite menacingly although expressing of some more likely caricature of himself or pattern of comic relief and Xiaoling almost suggesting what she thought to be some final invocation.
Some customary softest coda to her breathy exuberance went severely shattered by Nick’s sudden remark. Still, she rebounded swiftly.
She glanced quickly as Nick’s forehead darted sharply toward the 49th St. corner.
Nick would be continually hard-pressed to convey some more congenial manner which he almost always found to be an elusive commodity. His teachers had always thought it odd that he should have at all found those with whom to alight, for his abrasive nature was completely foreign to any such show of camaraderie. Still, he felt pleased that he had finally confronted Xiaoling and forced her to assume some suddener realization toward this transition so heartfelt regarding himself, and as if feeling lost and unwelcome should have had to be his alone.
Nick watched as Xiaoling walked hurriedly up 49th Street towards the high school. Some standing and waiting patiently for the arrival of his mates could have only taken on some more sinister appearance, as at times it had. Some assuming the worst had too often resulted in Nick and his cadres being taken to the precinct house as truants. Only to be at last reclaimed by the attendance dean in charge of such day-to-day intrusions into his own personal pleasure. Some dozing off in the back room or more sordid entertainment, some closet activity whose interruption could have only annoyed as he pretended to collect his monthly pay while attending to some more civil duty finely tendered. Some worthless but amenable man having earned the post of dean quite dishonorably . Nick thought forward to the prospect of having to spend still another morning in feeble explanation of why he had been languishing at that time of the morning and on that particular day. Some overworked testimonial which had never been to the attendance dean’s satisfaction, in any case. Some cowering inescapably beneath one’s own bitterer stare, some glaring over narrowed spectacles attempting to shame Nick for the indiscretions which would have commonly arisen. But then his friends were never on time and so he watched Xiaoling move even further, some form swaying barely as leaving some blackened tar pavement background propping up the girl, some pushing upwards into one flattening silhouette now certainly too far to actually be perceived. Still Nick had always wondered what might have become of her if she had never been brought over. Or he for that matter. Might he have found her quite by chance pedaling along the banks of the Xi Jiang in some desperate urge to arrive on time? Some thrusting more furiously against the cast iron which would have been providing of her only engagement with some long lost own eternal suffering? One which her parents had forsworn for the young girl, for all times and by any means possible would have hurried them along on that morning as they converged upon the fading grey embankment, some façade which were to eventually emerge as one more relic engrained within a memory too tired to bespeak even that slightest of tones and in an language now too distant to be appreciated for what it once was? Some prouder discourse now smothered within the pinyin muck? Somewhere along this tiring length of timeless monotony had given birth to this ne’er receding need for merciless intercourse. Some more oddly sounding verbal intention and would seem to tease into the notion that they were indeed inoculated within some grander sense of alliteration. Some words jarring about without any such eloquence forthcoming, only pointing and imploringly of the need for paying homage to the pinyin. Some calling out and beckoning to the pinyin sunrise which were to bring those who might bathe in its incandescence one gentler notion of who we might be destined to become. Some dialect receding and giving in to that pinyin romance which were to become theirs and sadly. Nick for his part could find only reward in the notion that one distant idiom had become so bastardized. Some now almost useless tool being left out along the side of the road for the waste collectors which were to become and providing of some further assurance that some other means of communication larger in scope and possibility could bring together all those courageous enough to have had sought out this pending chance at a better life. Some long-awaited tone melting down into the pinyin muck which were to become, some foreign looking characters looked down upon by the lords but inevitably. Some wading more deeply into the pinyin muck which were to become all of theirs as well. Some creeping backwards toward one more fitting appreciation of who they were and what they might be accomplishing here. Some succeeding within one larger discourse as Nick stared fixedly at Xiaoling’s disappearing form, wandering further away into what might very well have been his own best refuge. Nick to be sure, some larger expanse of water showering him or was it just that which he beamed forth at Miss McGrath and her smile went placingly upon him in some halo- filled delight? Some warmer encouragement which all his teachers seemed to render yet nevertheless ne’er kind enough, for Nick would continue loitering at the corner of his errant befalling until graduation and probably beyond. Even Dong Er would stride quickly down 48th Street on that day, some slightest reflection upon those filtered rays which had descended so steadily upon the province of Fujian. Some final merit to having been set so ungraciously into the cauldron which were to become hers and the rest. Some confused explanation hurriedly as to why they were to arrive had not been well received, and the notion that it were to all make sense in the long run only added to some primal deformation in her mind. Nick too could have been answering high above the call, some cleverer nature never having seemed to acquiesce and would continue to draw heavily upon Xiaoling in attempting to bring forth that inspiration which did unceasingly pervade his own daily meanderings. It was indeed all he could do to continue steadfastly in the eatery which his father had been attempting to carry over from the old country, let alone pretend to occupy some ranking similar to that of those more intelligent pupils. Some earlier morning convocation would have probably had its origin in his obligations toward seeing to it that the family business kept on with some day-to-day regularity. Nick would always defrost the chickens in the evening in preparation for some next day’s sojourn although this had never been his habit before beginning at the high school. His had always been some morning too hectic for the formalities which were to have imposed. Some Chinese roasted chicken had always been his family specialty and such would enable his father to begin the arduous labor to which he had become indebted at some more decent hour. Some roasted fowl delicacy had been theirs to rely upon since arriving here some years ago, and it was to their good fortune that the locale over which they presently presided had gone for the asking. Shí xīng cān guǎn and yes it did turn out to have been a popular spot amongst the neighbors. Some roasted delicacy enabling those who would beseech it some otherwise befitting substitute for the sloth which might have overtaken even that kindest of entrepreneur. Some later afternoon hour had always been the busiest time and for reasons which could have hardly ever been properly understood. Some earlier supping had always been the rule amongst those most newly brought over, and some moderner Sunset Park environs must have pushed it along even more so. Some likelier boredom gazing across from some tiresome café and why should some heartier repast ne’er be in the offing? Some sun laying down and over, some sixty-degree coming from out of a shadow definingly of roof-top structures across and shading one’s eyes accordingly. Some egg foo yong staring upwards and was it not y-o-ng? Some mexicano-mixed pronunciation -- y-u-ng -- as in some irrepressible throwback toward tendered youth singingly. There had arrived far too many of those who might never have left the homeland if not for some family member or friend to whom they would have been permanently mortgaged in one way or another. Some life passing through at a snail’s pace and always ne’er reading in some ghostlier fashion. Some ne’er ending penchant for agreeing without bounds with she who would have provoked some gna some means for remunerating properly their occasional feast -- ¡bì xū chū qián cǐ kè! -- but Nick’s angry rebuke towards timely payment would almost always become consumed within some gentler gesture accorded by his father. They had come after all to seek the fortune which had gone so fleetingly in Fujian, or most of them in any case. Some going fleetingly, some fortune written on paper tenuously and under some threat of becoming moot as per the consequence of certain actions taken (or not) by those bent on an existence wrought with self-congratulatory adulation. Some temporal endurance marked by cowardice and stupidity did call to mind those more intellectually challenged cretins who but for the ficklest of fortunes confounded did materialize at all. Some occasional preference toward undermining that of others in becoming more fleetingly still. Some fortune being commandeered by the lowest order of filth which would handily refuse to ease the suffering of just one more of their very own (or so one would have thought). Yīn dào! Consider the wrath of fortune which they must have lusted after and lost. Some roasted chickens guiding the way up and out of their mostly hopeless state must have rested fervently upon the thoughts of those who had first studied the culinary merits of Chinese roasting. Some roasted fowl enabling Nick to cling to those few norms having survived and languishing from their harrowing journey, and in doing so savor the possibility of bestowing some greater good upon himself and his family. Now some setting them in line for preparation with the final marinade would have him reflecting back to some previous week’s class. Some straight line being shorn up into odd numbered divisions and odder still when in consideration of the fact that it could be accomplished longingly. Or could it? Some numbered line going off into number lines with afternoon light setting upon. Some numbered line set down within some more passive structure then numbed or numbered along some line with afternoon light and coming down onto some vaguer recollection did appeal to Nick. The fowl would have been marinated accordingly and he could have never imagined that here too he might be well within his own. Some better attempt at escape from this tattered existence. Some upward motion through the ranks of those newly arrived and into this societal array placed forth so invitingly. Whereupon being obligated to render some quickest decision regarding one’s final destination did put all in Fujian to the test, some giving his own grandparents certain cause for concern and determined that Nick and all their progeny should taste the fervent fruit of some newer world. Now setting down one, two, three more and applying that final essence, some voix dernierère which had never failed to draw forward even that most disinterested of gastronomical devotee, some more succulent trying into the sweeter bastion which did ever presently shield us from some most unwanted progenation. Some sweeter coming into the numbered cleavage which would have only parted but for some sheerest of desperation, some bending more lowly into what had surely been the love of Dong Er and now unsure of why or how this parade were ever to continue. Some numbered inclination would have earlier confounded Nick with imaginary concepts putting forward, some circular function surely befitting of one’s own better understanding.
Who cares fire hot? he would think. So many chickens, anyway. He would have been working to prepare the meat as quickly as possible and could not resist the temptation to answer within his own persuasion.
Still his father was adamant as to the manner in which Nick sometimes went about his business. It is not that he felt the boy to be unhelpful. Quite the contrary, he knew Nick to be diligent in matters of the home and could only add to his chagrin regarding the way in which he conducted his affairs of study. Some hanging about with the likes of those schoolyard boys on 8th Avenue had caused him to lose some most basic acquisiton of selfdiscipline which had been tryingly instilled in his earliest years at the day school. Some growing up leaning heavily upon epistles dating back some five or six generations in the land of his ancestors had hardly affected the boy and this his father knew to be true despite the fact that he himself had had little time to spend with the child here in their new home
(What he means work slow today? )
(Marinade too sticky today, keep my fingers together.)
Then sounding distantly through the paint-peeled walls two or three deep. -- Tóng yī rú tong měi tiān. (Not same as everyday, he thought ) -- ¡Nián nián! he would reply. Now trying to set the chickens in some other sense would only bring about some pleasanter rumination about doing harder work in the back of the class, some seeing to it that both Dong Er and her cousin were properly attended to. Some rectangular exercise uncompleted, some now-too-easy thoughts, lengths and widths befitting of this current bird feast and no need for some spatial calculation within one’s larger space, some space now pleasingly to Nick as he might slide the birds from the tray and into some more proper recipient. This too would prove to be futile as the viscous dressing once more would begin to test Nick. -- ¡Nián nián!¡ Nián nián! But the marinade might not give in to the rants of those who refused to accept happily their daily lot and Nick would continue to draw upon his thoughts of Xiaoling and some passage into which both had begun to delve during that morning. Some scene which might have ensued with the attendance dean could not have been properly foresworn, and as such some more lasting rumination perhaps being touched upon. Some imaginings of she and he in subtler repose which might one day endear and bear fruit, some ne’er extinguishing romance could properly comprehend and stoop lowly upon the lace which would more warm-heartedly placate those whose lives had become so irretrievably consumed Thereupon some more affectionate cheek inclined or some softest telling -- oh! Some inability to bespeak and she relinquishing those misjudgments to those who had been previously guarded as her own. Never over there! Some never over there but Nick knew all to well that her morning went motionless until he appeared, some ever-so-soothing advance through such delicate morning fare. Some painted fancy and one more making over of some prettier deed rarely looked upon. For he had long gathered Xiaoling’s desire for him and ne’er once sought to dispel the notion of her perfuming herself in simmering anticipation, some searing restlessness within and seeping downwards into her still innocuous womb. Some thirst for the warmened relaxation which her mother had always told her about, and would continue to plunge her forward into some perpetual incarnation of the fruit she would be called upon to bear. ****************************************************** © 2019 Anthony DeMarcoAuthor's Note
|
Author
|
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing