That's Not What I Meant

I have knots in my stomach. We were traveling competitively, checking out all the sites, "Taiwandering" from Kaohsiung to Taipei, as well as all the side quests like Jiufen and Xinbeitou, still part of Taipei but so unique that the two villages felt like different parts.

Our focus had been laser sharp the last two weeks, and when it was time for dinner, I finally had time to process the enormity of the night ahead. I was meeting a long-lost uncle for the very first time in my entire life. He never even saw me as a child.

I already hated my whole look for the evening. I was wearing heavy makeup, my eyebrows drawn in an outdated heavy brow, and purple eyeshadow rounding my eyes like a raccoon. I looked ridiculous. It was too late to turn back. Why were there so many cosmetic stores in the city? Almost every day-to-day woman on the street wore bare faces. How did the department stores stay in business? Probably, people like me, a mid 40's woman with a late-in-life toddler straggling my legs while I hefted behind my husband and teenage son, trying to keep up a youthful look.

I wanted to reach the restaurant before my uncle and his family arrived. It was on the 8th floor of a department store, but as we rounded the corner, I saw him. I recognized my uncle from his Facebook profile.

"It's you!" Uncle A-Jack calls out.

We make our awkward greetings as we all head up the elevator. It was as friendly as can be, considering our lost connection and an extreme language barrier. I was not a fluent Mandarin speaker. At the museum earlier that week, I attempted to communicate a question in Chinese, only to be ridiculed by other Asian American tourists who spoke Mandarin while they walked by.

"How embarrassing," a woman a few years my junior commented to her family. That motivated me to double down on my fast-track studying of Mandarin phrases for the evening.

We were a large entourage. It was me, my husband, my teenage son, and my toddler. Then Uncle A-Jack, his wife, who was introduced right away, his son A-Jay, his wife, their son, and another couple whose relationship was lost in the midst of intros.

Everyone cooed at the children. Uncle A-Jack had so much to say to me. I could tell from his eyes. He was hungry for information.

The restaurant was "the most bougie place" we've ever been, as described by my elder son. The food was phenomenal. Family-style, but also six or seven courses. We had a private room, so conversation could be more intimate.

Conversation.

"I knew how to speak Mandarin when I was younger, but my mom married an American guy," I tried explaining. "So, it was mostly English at home."

My uncle became confused.

"The second marriage," I say. My cousin whispers translations in my uncle's ear.

"There are a lot of Asians, but it's all different kinds," not wanting to appear whitewashed, but still needing to explain. "We just speak English to each other. Filipinos, Koreans, Vietnamese..."

I catch a look from my nonchalant, teenage son. He mouths, "stop," his favorite thing to say to me.

The table was circular. We seated ourselves with my family all together, and theirs mixed on both sides of us. I did the thing I hate when people do - just for conversation starters. I started asking questions.

"So, where is your wife?" I began.

Uncle A-Jack looked confused.

"Are you divorced or did she pass away?"

"Mom," my teenager edged me with his elbow. "She's right there."

He points to the other side of my husband. I looked at the distinguished woman with dyed-black hair and red lips. Oh, yeah. We'd been talking, and I had decided that I liked her already. Additionally, we were introduced earlier.

"Sorry," I shake my head. "My brain doesn't work very well. It used to, but I had to take some medication..."

"Ohhh," my cousin's wife nods in understanding.

"She's very jetlagged," my husband interjects. "To us, it feels like 5 A.M. instead of 6 P.M."

"No," I shake my head again. "My husband's just making excuses for me. I didn't mean to say that. Of course, I remember you." I say pointedly to my uncle's wife. I forgot her name, of course, but I did remember that we were introduced.

"Sooo, is everything ok?" My uncle makes a circle around his head, indicating if everything is ok with my brain.

"Oh, yes," I say, embarrassed. "That's not what I meant...I'm just overwhelmed."

Conversation moves on. My uncle has been following my progress in life online. If you can call it that. He asks about my dance career.

"Uh," I say, searching for the words. "Well, you know I don't dance as much. First off, I'm getting older, also, I had cancer a couple of years ago, and that slowed things down a bunch."

Why did I mention cancer? This is not the time for that. You're supposed to show off, not act like it's a therapy session. This was the first impression. Jeez, why can't I just sit there and say nothing like my husband is doing?

"Shén me?" My uncle asks.

"She had cancer," my cousin translates to Chinese.

"But, I'm ok now," I say hurriedly.

"But she's ok now," my cousin says in Chinese.

My uncle nods knowingly.

I want to cry. They're never going to want to see me again. The word vomit won't stop.

My uncle asks about my brother. He's estranged and, for all I know, homeless on the streets of L.A. I haven't talked to him in years.

"So, your brother, he's a doctor?" Uncle A-Jacks asks in broken English.

I spit the tea out. It sprays over the large fish plate on the lazy susan directly in front of me.

"Sorry!" I half-cry. The food was delicious, and I just ruined one of the dishes.

Uncle's wife goes to help clean up the mess. She removes the dish and hands it off to a waiter. All night she’s been playing the perfect hostess, pouring tea, offering food ahead of her and her family. I watched my cousin pour another cup for his father on the other side of the table.

"My brother is most definitely not a doctor," I say, stifling a laugh. There was nothing funny about my brother's situation, but this was my reaction.

"What job does he have?" Uncle A-Jack asks in Mandarin.

"He has no job," I say sarcastically.

"Oh, he has so much money, he doesn't work?" All my relatives gush admirably.

"No," I shake my head slowly. "Uh, he..."

"Does stocks?" My son offers. I nod liking this alternative answer.

"Works in stocks," I say, and then under my breath, "I don't know what he does."

At the end of the night, we take our pictures. At some point, the toddler got out of his high chair. I think he ended up running and hitting my cousin's kid, who's a little younger. But I’m not sure entirely because so much was going on with side conversations, translations, and miscommunications.

"It's okay, it's okay," my cousin's wife, who goes by Camie, assures. "He's okay."

To top it off, we came empty-handed. They gave us red bags full of money for each of us, paid for dinner, and then sent us off with tea, games, and candy in large gift bags.

I have never been so ashamed.

But my uncle hugged me. His wife invited us to stay with them in their city next time I come back to Taiwan. I promised, yes.

Epilogue:

I convince A-Jay to meet me at the station close to my hotel. When we got back to our room, we assembled gifts and goodies into two shopping bags for his son. I also had red bag money for his whole family.

I couldn't find them. A-Jay asked me to meet at a McDonald's, but the location-finding app didn't work. I told him to meet me at the train station.

"We're stuck in an elevator," A-Jay writes.

At first, I thought that he was lost in translation. Thinking what he really means is that there's a long queue, but no, he's actually stuck.

He screenshots his location. I run to the visitor information kiosk.

"My cousin needs help," I say in my limited Chinese. And then I give up and hope they speak English. "My cousin is in an elevator, and he's stuck."

I hope they understand English, as they looked confused by my Mandarin, which is horrible. I show the screenshot.

After several minutes, I gave up. I see a note from A-Jay. The firefighters are coming to save them!

My son indicates the sirens that we heard a few minutes ago. I run outside and, using the map of A-Jay's location, find the elevator. They are out.

I run and hug A-Jay.

"Ohmigod," I exclaim. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," A-Jay reassures. "My son likes firemen."

We take our last selfie, and I again promise to stay in touch.

After all, if they sincerely wish to see me again after all that, then they truly are family.