Mismatch Read Online Free Page B

if she were to hear his own father ranting about how backward the Chinese were?
    Andy tried again. He remembered another thing his mother had told him. “The Chinese weren’t always backward. Mom says the Japanese didn’t have writing until it was introduced from China.”
    His father was sipping his bean paste soup, but before Andy finished talking, he sputtered and his face grew red. The soup spilled all over the table.
    “Get some paper towels, Andy,” his mother said.
    She didn’t have to tell Andy twice. Andy gratefully escaped to the kitchen, and his mother followed him. “Andy, what your father didn’t tell you was
why
that man in Beijing spat on his shoe,” she said softly. “He only told
me
because I kept asking him why the trip upset him so much. The Chinese man not only spat but also yelled at him. A crowd gathered, and your father’s guide had to hustle him away because things were getting ugly. The guide explained afterwards that the man who spat had a brother killed by Japanese soldiers during the occupation. The guide never apologized for the unpleasantness. If anything, he seemed to have enjoyed the scene. Your father was deeply upset by the whole thing.”
    “It’s not Dad’s fault that that man’s brother was killed,” Andy protested. “He wasn’t even born yet!”
    “
I
know that, Andy,” his mother said soothingly. “But the wounds inflicted during a war take a long time to heal. On both sides.”
    “But that’s just one incident!” protested Andy. “Dad shouldn’t think
all
the Chinese people are like that!”
    “Well, the man who spat on him certainly thought all Japanese people were exactly the same,” said his mother. After a moment, she added quietly, “I don’t think we should let your father get too angry, Andy. His doctor told us last week that his blood pressure is on the high side, and it’s not good for him to get worked up.”
    Andy wasn’t too surprised about his father’s high blood pressure. He had seen the tide of red mounting on his father’s face. It didn’t look healthy. “Okay, Mom,” he said. Then he grinned and added, “You know, that’s a good way to get the last word all the time. Just tell everybody you have high blood pressure.”
    “Andy!” said his mother. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” But a moment later, she smiled. “Let’s just keep things peaceful at home, all right?”
    Andy sighed and made an elaborate bow. “Yes, Mother, this Number Two Son will obey.”
    His mother smothered a laugh. “You’ve got the wrong script, Andy. That line comes from an old Charlie Chan movie. It’s Chinese, not Japanese.”
    “So did you find out how your parents feel about the Chinese?” asked Sue the next Monday as she struggled with her salami sandwich.
    Andy smiled as he looked at the way Sue licked some mayonnaise from her upper lip. He thought she looked like a cute toddler trying to eat like a grown-up. But his smile faded as he thought back to the way his father had talked about the Chinese. “My mom’s okay,” he began. “She’s a history teacher, like I said, and she knows a lot about how the Japanese learned stuff from the Chinese—things like writing . . .”
    “And your father?” asked Sue. “What does he think?”
    Andy tried hard to think of a tactful way to express his father’s opinions. “My father thinks the Chinese are a backward people,” he said finally. He couldn’t bring himself to repeat his father’s more offensive words about not bathing. Nor did he want to mention the man who had spat and yelled at his father.
    Sue took a bite of her sandwich, although she no longer looked hungry. After swallowing she said in a low voice, “I know we’re a backward people. During the Second World War, we had very few modern weapons, and that’s why your country was able to occupy so much of my country.”
    Andy was shocked. “Hey, where did this ‘your country’ and ‘my country’ stuff come from? I