I’ve gone stark raving mad. I am talking to a balloon, one hot air bag to another.
A rope hits me in the head, and I grab it to steady myself. When I pull, the silk deflates a little, then the basket falls a notch, and a moment of weightlessness sends a shock through me. Was that why Tom was shaking his fist at me? He was telling me to pull.
I peer into the throat of the balloon and cautiously give the rope another tug. The basket spins, then drops several feet. I fall down in a heap, as dizzy as a fly in a whisk.
The balloon jerks, but I don’t dare peek over the side, afraid of tumbling out. Once my head stops spinning, I stare up into the throat again. There are three ropes hanging. I give one of the others the barest tug, bracing myself, and the balloon begins to rotate in the other direction.
“Mercy, keep your weight on the floor. You’re doing great.” Tom’s voice sounds distant, coming from somewhere under the basket.
I want to sob in relief. “Tom?” I cry.
Not a minute later, he swings a leg over the side and starts expertly manning the ropes inside the basket with me. I stop myself from hugging his ankles.
“You did well. Dropped it enough for me to catch the grapple. See, this pulls the main vent and helps you go straight down.”
In no time, we’re back on the ground, the silk billowing like a cream-colored ocean. Tom helps me up, and I hug him close, trembling. His solid warmth defuses all my fear, replacing it with something giddy and hopeful. If I had known my flight of terror would end in Tom’s arms, I might have volunteered for it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should’ve listened.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.” For a moment, his eyes look haunted and I dare to hope his concern is more than brotherly.
Then his features harden. He gently pushes me away.
My cheeks brighten at the rebuke. Keeping the injury out of my voice, I ask, “What did you have to go back for?”
He digs into his pocket and holds up an ugly wrinkled bulb.
“It looks like a man’s energy pouch,” I say when I see the chuen pooi.
The tips of his ears grow pink, and my laugh rings out like a shovel striking gold.
Our ticket to a good life just blew in.
2
THE THREE O’CLOCK FUNERAL PEDDLER’S voice pierces the thin windows of our two-room flat. “Joss paper! Red packets! Lucky candy!” In Chinatown, someone is always hawking something.
I thank both the Christian God and my ancestors for the dozenth time today that my family was spared the need for such funeral trinkets.
Tom will keep my misadventure a secret. He always does, like the time I climbed up the flagpole and got stuck, or the time I made him go into the ocean with me and we almost drowned. He might have his opinions, but he’s loyal to a fault.
My brother, Jack, breathes noisily beside me as he practices hemming a towel. Despite Ma’s protests, Ba said it was time for him to learn the family business, and minor alterations were a part of the laundry trade. Jack ties a knot, then holds up his battlefield of stitches.
“Nice, but you sewed your towel to your pants.”
He slaps his head. “Not again!”
I close the book on my lap—The Book for Business-Minded Women—and nudge Jack off the old chest where he is sitting so I can put my book back where all our treasures are held. Last Christmas, after I lost my job sweeping graves, Mr. Mortimer the mortician gave me the book as a present. I was always borrowing it from the library at Laurel Hill Cemetery.
Jack quiets when I remove another treasure from the chest—our map of San Francisco, the latest 1906 edition. I spread it onto the concrete floor. “We’re exploring early this month.”
He digs around in the chest. The tea tin rattles as he pulls out our Indian head penny. Every month, the pirates Mercy the Fearsome and her first mate Black Jack toss the penny onto the map for a new place to explore.
Jack shines the penny on his shirt.
“It’s my turn to throw,” I tell him, holding out my hand. Normally, I wouldn’t insist, but with careful aim, I lob it lightly so it lands on the city’s northern edge. “Well, look at that!”
“Wh-wh-what, Mercy?” He stammers when he’s excited or nervous.