The Girl With No Umbrella

Summer 2002—Chinatown, New York

Summer is said to be the rainiest season in China. Ya’an is called the “rain city” because of how much rain it gets during the year—almost 70 inches. It doesn’t rain nearly as much in America, but when it does, I remember. I remember small, random things like walking to school with my brother in the rain, the smell of the cafeteria, gym class.

This morning, Chinatown is busy. People crowd the markets, huddling under umbrellas, shop owners close windows and shut doors, kids run around carelessly, jumping into puddles on the cobblestone streets. Mothers yell for their children, teenagers argue, cars and taxis honk at pedestrians.

I stand alone with no umbrella. I stare at my reflection in the puddle, unaware of my loud surroundings. If my mother were here, she’d chastise me for not using an umbrella in the rain. Liu Mei, you will get sick, she would say. Nǐ huógāi—it is your fault.

But she is not here. I am not 16 anymore; I have grown up already.

Thunder claps above me. Perhaps I should find shelter, but I can’t yet. I can only think about the one person who would have given me an umbrella. But he is not here, either. I am truly alone.

Fall 1996—Ya’an, China

“Liu Mei! You are going to be late!”

“I’m leaving without you, mèimei,” Liu Ming shouted warningly. I heard him opening the front door downstairs, and the living room was flooded with sounds of children running to school. I cursed to myself, bending down to look under the bed.

“Wait, gēge,” I pleaded. “I can’t find something.”

Liu Ming scoffed unforgivingly. “It’s going to rain!”

“She’s always losing something,” my mother said, and I could imagine her shaking her head with worry. “Liu Mei has become so irresponsible.”

“It’s probably Ming’s influence,” my father added.

Where was it? I opened all of my drawers one by one, but there was no sign of it.

“Liu Mei,” my father called, “Gēge is leaving. He’s a senior—he can’t afford another detention.”

The door slammed shut. I buried my head in my hands. I couldn’t go to school. How could I have lost it?

My mother knocked on my door. “Liu Mei, if you don’t leave now then you won’t eat dinner tonight.”

My head snapped up. Suddenly, the risk of going to school without my charm bracelet did not seem so bad. I zipped up my bookbag, tied my hair into a low ponytail, and rushed down the stairs. “Bye, Māmā!”

Liu Ming was long gone by the time I reached the sidewalk. Sighing, I slowed down to a walk, hoping to miss as much school as possible. I was already late; why rush now?

Thunder clapped above me. I groaned, looking down at my bare arms. I had no bracelet, no umbrella, and I was going to be late to school. Before I could find a place to hide out for the day, the clouds opened up and it started pouring down on me, hammering my head, soaking my clothes, sliding down my socks.

I was the girl with the worst luck. I stood there, unable to move, and then the rain suddenly stopped.

“Luò tāng jī.”

I looked up, and up and up. Someone stood at least ten inches above my head, holding an umbrella over both of us. It was a boy, someone in Liu Ming’s class. He tilted his head sideways curiously, his dark hair falling over his eyes.

“Liu Ming—”

“You’re Liu Ming’s friend,” I said, staring at him. How was my brother friends with the most handsome boy in China?

He smiled to himself, looking me over. “Now I see what Liu Ming is always talking about.”

The gratitude I felt suddenly turned into anger at my brother. “I promise, I’m not as bad as Liu Ming. He is always getting into trouble—”

“Liu Ming is at school, and you are standing here with no umbrella.” The boy laughed. “Luò tāng jī, shouldn’t you be in school?”

I frowned at his nickname for me. Luò tāng jī meant a chicken that had fallen into soup, a common phrase for when someone was soaking wet. “Stop calling me a chicken.”

“Liu Ming asked me to take you to school,” he said, ignoring me. “He can’t be late anymore. Why were you so late today?”

I pointed to my arm. “My bracelet—”

He nodded, barely listening, taking my backpack off my shoulders and started walking towards school. I rushed to keep up with him, wanting to stay under the umbrella.

“Why are you so tall?”

“Liu Mei, let this be the last time I take you to school, hmm?” said the boy, handing my bookbag back. We had gotten to the courtyard; it was now empty, because class had started. “I have class, too.”

“Xie xie ni, gēge,” I said, putting my bookbag on my back. “Wait, what is your—”

“Take the umbrella,” he interrupted, placing it in my hands. “Keep it.”

I watched him go, running in the rain to get to his class. I stood still, my hand still warm from his touch.

The beginning of our story.

Winter 1996—Ya’an, China

When the school bell rang in the afternoon, I immediately started packing up, having no intention to stay for self study that evening.

Zhou Li nudged me. “Leaving so soon, Meimei?”

“Come with me to the DVD store,” I told her, zipping up my puffer coat. “I want to watch a movie tonight.”

She frowned. “We have exams next week.”

I tugged one of her braids. “Even better reason!”

“Liu Mei, you’re just like your brother,” Xie Xinyi snapped, scowling at me.

I crossed my arms, staring at her. Since grade 5, Xie Xinyi had always argued. “How can someone whose name means joyful and harmonious be so annoying?”

Xie Xinyi rolled her eyes. “How can someone with such a handsome and smart tutor be so dumb?”

I blushed. Zhou Li cooed, grinning at me and shaking my arm. “Does she mean Wang Kaiwen?”

“Let’s go,” I told Zhou Li, scowling one more time at Xinyi. Since Xinyi was now an honor student on the student council, I was always the one who ended up in detention and not her.

On the walk to the DVD store, Zhou Li kept pestering me. “Is she talking about Kaiwen? How is he? He still tutors you, right?”

I gave her a look, hoping she would stop nagging. My parents hired Wang Kaiwen, Liu Ming’s best friend, as my English tutor. I topped gym class, but failed English miserably. Everyone knew Wang Kaiwen was handsome; but no one, not even Zhou Li, knew that—

“Oh my gosh.”

I looked at Zhou Li, stopped in her tracks in the doorway of the DVD store, and followed her gaze.

Behind the counter, Wang Kaiwen tilted his head curiously. “Luò tāng jī.”

My heart plummeted. Beside me, Zhou Li tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “Meimei, why is he calling you a—-”

“Hello, gēge,” I said, nodding politely. “We were just leaving.”

Zhou Li grabbed my wrist to pull me back inside. “No, you said you wanted to watch a DVD tonight.”

I gave her a look, but Kaiwen started laughing. “Shouldn’t you be studying, mèimei?”

“I finished studying.”

He gave me a doubtful look, but reached under the counter to grab something. “I have a movie you would enjoy, Liu Mei.”

Zhou Li and I crept closer curiously.

He held the DVD out for us to see. Tom and Jerry.

“Isn’t that a kid’s cartoon?” Zhou Li asked.

“An American kid’s cartoon,” he corrected. “In English.”

I looked at him, and he smiled. “To help with your studies.”

Zhou Li tugged at my arm again, grinning. I took the DVD, and his hand lingered for a second. Energy zapped through me.

“Xie xie ni, gēge.”

He smiled, ruffling the top of my head. “Be good, luò tāng jī.”

Winter 1997—Ya’an, China; Lunar New Year

“Shin nian kuay le!”

“Shin nian kuay le,” we chorused.

When my mother’s back was turned, Liu Ming smacked my shoulder. I screamed at him, chasing him around the dinner table.

“That’s enough!" our mother shouted. "Wǒ shòu gòu le!”

“He started it!” I protested.

“You deserve it,” Liu Ming argued, scowling at me. “Nǐ huógāi.”

I stuck out my tongue.

Our parents exchanged a helpless look, and our mother cleared her throat. “Liu Ming, that’s enough. Liu Mei, be on your best behavior tonight.”

“Why?”

“We’re having a guest tonight.” She nodded at Liu Ming, who seemed to have suddenly remembered.

“Who is it?” I looked between them.

The doorbell rang. “Your tutor,” said my father, heading towards the door.

The air in my lungs suddenly evaporated. “Wang Kaiwen? But why? Why is—”

“Ni hao,” said Kaiwen, nodding respectively at my parents from the doorway. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“Come inside; it’s pouring out there,” my mother urged, opening the door wider.

Liu Ming went over to pat his friend’s back. “Kaiwen, zuì jìn zěn me yàng?”

They instantly started talking about college applications and school assignments, and I suddenly felt shy. What was Wang Kaiwen doing in my house? Did he not have a family to spend Lunar New Year with?

Kaiwen tilted his head, looking over Liu Ming to me. “Luò tāng jī.”

My brother lightly shoved his shoulder. “Why are you calling my sister a wet chicken?”

Kaiwen smiled at me, and I felt my insides burning up as I smiled back. We had our own joke that not even my brother knew.

“Staying out of trouble?” Kaiwen asked me.

Liu Ming scoffed. “Never with her.”

I scowled at my brother.

Half an hour later, the dinner table was set, and I had a seat right next to Kaiwen. I tried to hide my smile and suddenly elevated mood as we went around the table, sharing our hopes for the new year.

“I hope I get a new sister,” Liu Ming said.

My mother smacked him, and Kaiwen laughed into his rice bowl.

“I hope I get new kids,” my father said, sighing. “What about you, Meimei?”

I scowled at Liu Ming, but ignored his comment. “I want to go to America.”

The table got quiet. Māmā dropped her chopsticks, Liu Ming stopped midbite, and Kaiwen choked on his water.

I frowned at their reaction. “What?”

“America?” my mother repeated, her brow furrowed. “What’s in America?”

I dared to look at Kaiwen, just for a second. He was watching me curiously. “I have been studying English very hard this year,” I said. “One day, I want to live in America.”

“That’s a good ambition, Meimei,” my father said, “but this year?”

“One day,” I decided, nodding to myself. “One day, I want to live there.”

Nobody said anything, and then Wang Kaiwen surprised everyone.

“I’m proud of you, mèimei,” he said, picking a piece of meat from his bowl to put in mine. “Keep up the hard work, and you will achieve your dream.”

I smiled at him, and he smiled back. My parents exchanged smiles, and Liu Ming nudged me, laughing to himself.

Keep up the hard work, and you will achieve your dream. I never forgot those words.

Summer 2002—Chinatown, New York

“Wonton soup with chicken,” calls out the barista.

I take the bowl from the counter. “Thank you,” I say in English.

It’s still pouring outside. I sit by the window, watching the rainy Chinatown from inside. My hair is still soaking wet, and so are my clothes, but I don’t bother drying them or buying an umbrella.

A car honks loudly from blocks away. Two kids chase each other on the cobblestone street, heading to the red bean tree growing outside the street noodle shop. I stare at the tree, then close my eyes, taking a long sip of wonton soup. Lightning strikes, whipping a memory into my vision from five years before.

Summer 1997—Ya’an, China

“You have to tell me first!”

“Make me!”

I shrieked, laughing as Kaiwen chased me across the park, shouting my name. I wore shorts and a t-shirt, something rare for a summer day in Ya’an. It was one of the only days it hadn’t rained.

Kaiwen slowed down to take a breath, hands on his knees. “You promised, mèimei.”

I crossed my arms. “I promise to tell you once you tell me.”

He sighed, sinking to the grass under the red bean tree. “I never knew you were so stubborn.”

I sat down next to him, lying on the grass. “I have always been stubborn.”

He looked down at me and laughed, looking away. “You’re right. You never use an umbrella, even when it’s pouring.”

He sighed loudly, lying down next to me and facing the sky. “What should I do? Liu Ming is staying in Ya’an for college, and my only friend left bullies me. I’m just a lonely old man.”

My insides felt warm, and I blushed. “Why are you going to Guangzhou for university?” I asked, looking at him. “Why not stay in Ya’an?”

He frowned, not looking at me. “I’m starting over.”

I carefully planned my next words. “Do you…do you not have…”

“A family?” Kaiwen guessed, laughing, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

I nodded, looking away. Nobody had ever fully explained Kaiwen’s past to me, but I think I understood.

“What about you?” he asked, propping up on one elbow. “When you go to university in a few years, where will you go?”

“America,” I replied.

He laughed. “That’s still your dream?”

“Yes, why?”

He smiled. “You and Liu Ming have always been my second family. What would I do if my little sister moved so far away?”

I smiled back at him, but my heart plummeted. Little sister. “Kaiwen…”

He dropped back down, smiling up at the sky. “I have never told anyone this secret, but I will tell you.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Kaiwen took a deep breath. “My mother died when I was born, and my mother left shortly after. Nai nai took care of me until high school, but then she got sick. I’m going to Guangzhou because I need a new story for myself. A new family.”

I could not say anything. I watched him speak, my heart racing. A new family…?

“Thank you, Liu Mei, for always being there for me. Your family helped me through really hard times. You are Liu Ming’s sister, but you will always be my mèimei.”

I stared at him. Seconds passed, then minutes. Nobody spoke. A bird chirped, landing on a tree.

“Hmm?” he said, looking at me curiously. “What was your secret, Liu Mei? What were you going to tell me?”

I shook my head, turning away. Words usually spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them, anything that was on my mind coming out. Especially with Kaiwen. But suddenly, my throat felt dry. If I tried to speak, I would cry.

“Liu Mei…?”

Before he could finish, the sound of thunder clapping echoed through the park. Rain started pouring down hard, soaking through my clothes.

“Liu Mei!” Kaiwen stood up, grabbing my arm. “We need to find shelter.”

How did everything turn so badly so fast? I stood still, letting the rain soak through me, pounding down on my head. Kaiwen tried to usher me towards shelter, but I wouldn’t move. I couldn’t process it.

“Liu Mei,” he said, looking at me, “luò tāng jī.”

Summer 2002—Chinatown, New York

Luò tāng jī.

I stared into my bowl of soup. I had always been the chicken. I had always been soaked with soup. I had always been so silly—Wang Kaiwen, of all people. How could I have thought it would work? How could I not forget that one summer day?

I never did see Wang Kaiwen again. Some days, like today, I wonder how he is doing. I wonder if he ever gets stuck in the rain, if he has an umbrella, or if he ever gives his umbrella to someone else.