At the age of nine, I finally became a violinist at the church as I had wished. At the same time, I grew taller as expected, and no one dared to bully me anymore. I eagerly anticipated the birth of my younger brother. Compared to a few years ago, I now had the ability to protect others, and the glory of the Lord shone upon me. After each Sunday performance, the brothers and sisters in the church would give me warm applause. Although it was not an easy journey, every effort was worthwhile.
During these three years of learning the violin, I faced many beatings. Almost every week, I had lessons with my teacher, who would delicately suggest that I should give up. However, my mom insisted that I continue learning the violin, and I cooperated fully. Objectively speaking, I had no natural talent in music. Each practice session, my mom would control herself and hit me less, but sometimes, the bow would reflexively strike my hand. As a result, uneven calluses formed on my fingertips and the back of my hand. Fortunately, my violin skills gradually became like a reflex, embedded in my being. This kind of training was undoubtedly effective. I grew up during this process, developing a character of resilience and hard work.
In August, Kai was born. He is a Leo, and his personality traits were evident from the moment he first came home. As soon as he entered, he shouted in the entrance and then burst into laughter. My mom showered him with extra affection, saying he recognized his home, and his intelligence surpassed many. When my mom spoke these words, I realized that Kai didn't need my protection. I felt incredibly relieved; my brother was fortunate. When my mom brought him to me, I gently touched his forehead. He opened his eyes, with long, dense eyelashes outlining deep contours, and he had the same tall nose as me. He loved to smile, revealing two dimples when he did. Unlike my clumsiness or my brother's maturity, he belonged to this entirely new realm, full of pure intelligence and joy. He would grow up under clear and unclouded gazes.
When I was fifteen, my brother achieved the top score in the whole country and was accepted into Yale University. As a result, he received an audience and a letter from the then-President. My younger brother turned out just as I had imagined. At the age of seven, he was well-versed in traditional Chinese classics, could recite Shakespeare's plays, wrote excellent calligraphy, was proficient in both Chinese and English, and had a particular love for mathematics. I felt proud of my brothers, even though their achievements brought me considerable pressure.
Fortunately, I still had the violin. Every day, I would practice for three hours, looking forward to Saturday afternoons when I had lessons with my teacher. The teacher's attitude towards me changed significantly, from initial skepticism to occasional praise. On Sundays, I regularly went to the church to play the violin with the choir. Katherine came to watch me play every Sunday. After the service, we would go home together. On our way, I would stop by Robbie's flower shop, located at the corner across from my house, and buy her a bouquet of champagne roses.
Katherine and I both got into the same high school. In the spring, we had our first official date. That evening, we went to see Leonardo DiCaprio's performance in "Romeo and Juliet," a movie that Katherine really liked. When she was in a good mood, she would jokingly say that I was handsomer than him, and she repeated the same on that night. After the movie, we went to Ugly Duck Coffee and each had a cup of hot chocolate.
She was still wiping away her tears, saying, "It's so pitiful, really heartbreaking. I've read the novel many times, but I never felt this sad. Maybe it's because they portrayed it so vividly..." Before she could finish her sentence, she began to sob again, "It's just so sad, oh."
I took out a pack of tissues from my backpack and handed her a new one. She grabbed my hand, and I decided to hold the tissue and help her wipe away the tears.
"Don't cry, you looked really good today. Haha." I comforted her while wiping away her tears, watching her eyeliner smudged by the tears, which made her look even more adorable.
"You're still laughing; you're making me mad." She got angry and walked out of the coffee shop with her hot chocolate.
I hurriedly caught up with her; she was walking fast, and I was having a bit of trouble catching up.
"You really cry a lot. You cried last Christmas too," I said a bit loudly, "Hey, can you slow down a bit? Don't be sad; I just thought you were cute."
She stopped, then turned around to look at me. Her golden curls hung over her shoulders, shining brightly under the streetlights. Looking closely at her face, her eyelashes were wet with tears, and her porcelain-like skin had a rosy tint. Her nose was also a bit red. As her face came closer, I could see the faint freckles on her face. Just as I was seriously examining a tiny mole on her nose, her soft lips pressed against mine. I closed my eyes, allowing the touch of her tender and moist lips to overwhelm me.
We walked home hand in hand, and I walked in silence while she giggled and said, "You're way handsomer than Leonardo."
"Haha, really?"
"Yeah, his looks are just too vanilla," she lowered her head, "Too perfect, of course, he's handsome too. Haha."
"Oh, so I'm not vanilla?"
"You have this mysterious Asian vibe, but you also have double eyelids and big eyes, a straight nose, really good-looking."
"Is that a stereotype?"
"Stereotypes can sometimes be a good thing. In a way, it's an idealized template. If it becomes a fixed template, some people will like it, and some people won't. For example, I really like Asians. I keep finding the 'stereotypical pattern' that attracts me in Asians, and it just needs to stay perpetually confirmed. As the subject of stereotypes, you have the obligation to play yourself, surpass it, achieve the highest unity, and become the 'free entity.'"
"Have you been reading Kant lately? Haha. Why are you talking about all these lengthy philosophical ideas? Did the teacher assign you a philosophy essay?" I always try to break the seriousness with an indifferent attitude.
"Ugh, you're really annoying! Look, this is freedom," she vigorously shook off my hand and burst into laughter, "Anyway, you have the qualities I like, but you also break through some idealized traits, providing unexpected surprises. But that's also because you're usually too polite and humble. Under this standard Asian politeness, I can sense another layer."
"You give me such high praise? Which specific layer?"
"Rebellion, and a bit of heroic impulse. When Dan and the others were bullying me, you came over wanting to be a hero and ended up getting beaten up," she looked up as she spoke, "You better keep it up; I feel like you're not willing to show yourself in front of your mom."
"Ah, no, I'm not brave at all. I've just had enough of them," I scratched my head and said nonchalantly, "So, you're attracted to masculinity?"
"Not exactly. Actually, you attracted me when you were tripped and beaten by them. I saw your vulnerability, and I like the vulnerability in boys. I was thinking at that moment, even if you're fragile, you're still willing to take risks to help others. It's really endearing, hahaha," she said, seeming a bit embarrassed.
"Well, you're really something. Katherine, you're the one who understands me the most," I lowered my head, gripping her hand even tighter.
"Ah, we're home. See you tomorrow," she hugged me, tiptoed, and planted a deep kiss.
"Goodbye."
The next day, just before heading to the church for the performance, I was searching for my violin all over the house. Eventually, I found it under my brother's bed. When I took it out, I discovered a chipped piece of varnish missing. Undoubtedly, my brother had taken my violin and damaged it. I had tolerated my mom's favoritism, and I held no grudge against Kai, but he had crossed a line. Holding my violin, I went to confront him. He stood beside mom, acting innocent. Mom defended him, claiming that I had chipped the varnish myself, falsely accusing my brother. In an instant, I felt the blood rush from my heart to my head. I threw the violin, bit Kai, leaving a blood mark on his arm. My dad intervened, took me away, brought a stool to the backyard, and pushed me onto it. Holding the violin bow, he spanked my buttocks. My mom had Kai and De stand aside, watching me. I endured about seven strikes, gritting my teeth, tears streaming down uncontrollably. It was summer, the scorching sunlight on my back, wearing a black shirt, heat accumulating in my body, as if ready to ignite.
Kai couldn't bear to watch any longer. He stood in front of Dad, crying, "It's all my fault. Don't hit my brother. I damaged his violin, and that's why he got so angry. Dad, please don't hit my brother. Don't hit him." He shook Dad's hand and turned to me, "Big brother, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I chipped the varnish, and we'll buy you a new violin." Dad stopped, and Mom came over to help me up without an apology. Kai ran over and hugged me. I couldn't bear to blame him anymore. However, I couldn't forgive my parents. Even though I understood they loved us, prayed for us daily, and considered family a top priority, at that moment, I silently vowed to leave this home one day.
We didn't go to church that day, the only time in many years we missed a church service. In the afternoon, Katherine came to my house, but I refused to see her. Her words from the previous night were wrong. I didn't have the courage she attributed to me. I only knew how to get angry or avoid situations. As for the protective instincts towards my brother and her, it was just a way to prove that I was still a useful person.
On Monday, I suggested going to Fort Worth to volunteer for the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. My parents readily agreed, and my mom even suggested asking Katherine if she wanted to join me.
She picked up the phone and said, "Hello, is this Laura? Can I speak to Katherine, please? Oh, she's not home right now. When she comes back, could you ask her if she wants to volunteer with Yan Feng in Fort Worth? Yeah, it's organized by their school's music association. Great. Please have Katherine call back when she's available. Or, how about I send Yan Feng over in a while?"
After hanging up, she smiled and said to me, "I made the call. Why don't you go over later and bring them a cake I just baked?"
Each time she smiles at me like that, I always feel a bit uneasy. I know this is my mom apologizing to me, but she never directly says sorry to me. She won't apologize for the specific thing, using a diversion tactic to express her remorse, making it difficult for anyone to accept. However, I don't want to ruin her mood.
"Alright, I'll come over in a bit," I said somewhat reluctantly.
That night, I stayed at Katherine's house until very late. I didn't confide in her, I didn't want to tell her about my hidden desires, and I didn't wish for her pity. I just wanted a pure release, a forceful intrusion into the warmest and softest places, or to indulge in the entanglement and intimacy between our skins. In that fleeting moment of enlightenment, to escape from this world, to avoid my own weaknesses and silence. On that slow night of cold early spring, I merged into the darkness, savoring the taste of spring in my dreams. It's as if I could see the wetlands of my distant hometown, with egrets flying by. A young boy stands by the lake, smiling at me. I strain to see his face, but it becomes increasingly blurry.
Spring break arrived, and as planned, we went to Fort Worth. Katherine and I were waiting in the concert hall for the Chinese teams to arrive. She would occasionally place her hand on my back, forming circles. I saw a black business van approaching, and a group of people successively got off: three elderly Chinese individuals, a translator teacher with a work badge around their neck, a lively and elegant girl, and a young boy. I couldn't help but recall the dream from that night. He wasn't the person from my dream, and he was much younger, but his dark pupils, jet-black and slightly curly hair, and healthy yellowish skin created an atmosphere reminiscent of my hometown. Just like the lyrics of that song, the clouds of my hometown floated in the vast sky, distant yet familiar.