Godmother Yuan tapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll never understand why you don’t join the Wong Benevolent Association. They’re so powerful, many times the size of ours. They just helped that Wong girl from Hong Kong pay her way through college.”

I’d said it before. “I’m the wrong kind of Wong, remember? I’m a northern Wong. The Wong Benevolent Association belongs to the southern Wongs. Their name is even written with a different character. Anyway, I don’t think I’m cut out for college.”

“Nonsense. ‘A genius always presents himself as a fool.’”

“Umm, thanks, Godmother. I think.”

Zan was grinning.

Godmother opened the door and we entered a large room with windows that faced the street on one end. We could hear the constant rumble of traffic as the ceiling fans whirred. A few older ladies were already moving the tables and chairs out of the way. Some chairs were set up at the side of the room for qigong work. At the other end was the platform with a statue of the Yuan ancestor on what we called the “god table.” Godmother went to light incense and pay her respects to her ancestor. The smell of roast meat and rice drifted into the room from the restaurants on the street. More people trailed in.

Every time I came to tai chi class I thought of Ma, who had started me on it so young. She believed it was important for balance and health. As with acupuncture and other forms of healing, one of tai chi’s goals was to mend and stimulate the circulation of qi throughout the body. The spiraling, circular movements brought the person back into mental and physical balance. As it was both a martial art and a form of meditation, it unified body and soul. I always enjoyed the tai chi classes because I felt centered afterward, and it was one of the few times when I felt at home in my body. I’d tried bringing Lisa too, but she didn’t like it.

Godmother nodded at me to begin the class. I led Zan to a spot near the front where she could see the lesson, yet wouldn’t feel too exposed. I felt comfortable in my large T-shirt and loose pants. I announced that class was about to begin, and when everyone had lined up, Godmother walked to the Yuan ancestor’s statue. The students all turned to face the statue as well. She bowed and we followed.

Then the students turned back to me as I started the class. I always did the warming up and cooling down for Godmother. That gave her the chance to walk around the room, “smiling from the heart” at the students, as she put it.

“Stand upright and relax from head to toe. Find your center.” I bent my knees and allowed my arms to float upward, then down again. We stretched our spines, then hips, knees and feet, turning the legs inward and outward. I enjoyed teaching, even in this mild way.

After the warming up, I led the students into a few dynamic exercises like Lifting the Sky, where we stretched our linked hands toward the ceiling, to get their energy flowing. I was surprised to see Zan having trouble with many of the exercises, especially since she was usually so coordinated. Of course she was new at this. Then Godmother came to the front of the class and took over. She reviewed the tai chi movements we’d done last week, then moved on to a few new ones. I stood next to Zan and followed along, losing myself in the flowing movements.

After that, the class split into two groups. The most advanced students went with Godmother to do qigong, while I helped the rest in push-hands training and tai chi sword and fan.

Godmother caught my eye and sent me a questioning look, and as always, I shook my head. Godmother always said, “External strength is supported by internal power,” meaning that learning tai chi with qigong was ideal, but I didn’t dare explore qigong any further. Qigong was becoming aware of our internal life energy, allowing it to flow throughout our bodies for healing. An essential part was feeling all your emotions and letting them go. When I thought of Ma’s death and my disappointing life, I knew I wasn’t ready for that.

Zan was breathing hard. “It looks very easy when you do it. I feel so clumsy.”

“It just takes time to learn because you need to control all these muscles in order to make it smooth.” I saw two men in their fifties starting to become aggressive with their push-hands exercise. “Come on, I have to break that up.”

I went over to the students and separated them. I stepped in for one of them and connected to the other man’s wrists with mine. “Push-hands is not about shoving each other.” I began to move our linked arms in a circular direction. “We are questioning and answering each other. Meet the incoming force with softness, move with it, then redirect it.” I stepped back and allowed them to try it again. Both men bowed to me before resuming the exercise.

Zan was staring at Godmother’s group. “What in the world are they doing?”

At the beginning, they’d sat in a circle, discussing meridians and healing, but now they were standing with their eyes closed, their limbs twitching and swaying. Godmother had her hand spread, fingers vibrating, over one woman’s head and was directing the woman’s movements like a puppeteer, though not actually touching her at all.

“Flowing Breeze, Swaying Willows,” I said. “It’s pure energy flow.”

One man started to convulse, then began to wail, a high animal sound. Another woman shook her head violently from side to side. None of the other students seemed to notice.

“That’s the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Zan said.

“I know. That’s why I’m not really such a good tai chi student. I don’t want to develop my qigong.”

“I’m with you. Why are they doing that?”

“They’re cleansing the negative energy from their bodies. They’re not controlling it, it’s flowing through them. When there’s a blockage, it needs to be cleared from the body. It restores the natural balance.”

I thought of the few times Godmother had tried with me. I’d felt such a rush of grief and disappointment in myself, I’d had to stop. If I let my fear take over, there’d be no way I’d make it back to that dance studio on Monday.

Four

On Sunday, Pa, Lisa and I went to temple to pray that my new job would be successful. The monks often put beautiful accessories on the golden idol of Kuan Yin, goddess of compassion, and today she had been clothed with a blue lace shawl. Kneeling in front of her, I’d whispered, “Please let me do it right this time.”

Since I didn’t have to be at the studio until the early afternoon, I had the mornings free.

“Maybe we could start reading Pilgrim’s Progress in the mornings now,” I said to Lisa.

“Umm, why don’t we wait and see how it goes with your new job? You’ll be so busy for a while. Maybe we should take a break with the reading.”

Sometimes I wasn’t sure that Lisa wanted to improve her mind. She saw my look and said, “Just a temporary one, Charlie.”

Lisa hugged me tightly before she left for Uncle’s office. “You’ll be great. You’re so much better than you think you are.”

Then Pa had stuck a bobby pin with a small red rose on it in my hair. “Red always brings good luck,” he said. “And you shouldn’t leave your hair just free like that. It’s too wild.” It was also because in times of mourning, Chinese unbind their hair as a sign of grief, to leave it loose and untamed. Pa was afraid that wearing my hair like that would bring on a period of despair. I wasn’t superstitious, but I kept the bobby pin in my hair. It felt like wearing a bit of Pa’s love.

Once Lisa and Pa had left, my fingers began to feel numb with fear again. Images of that glamorous studio flitted across my mind. This time, I would pay attention as best I could. No more stupid mistakes. This was my chance: no more immersing my hands in boiling water, no more shifting from leg to leg for hours to relieve the deep ache in my back, no more grease underneath my nails, no more lifting tubs filled with so many ceramic plates it felt like hoisting sandbags.