Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party Read Online Free Page A

her voice. Mother closed the door and hooked the latch. She turned toward Father and wrinkled her face as if she had just eaten a moldy peanut.
    Father quickly crossed the room. “You did fine.” He patted her shoulder. “Hopefully the mangoes will keep him busy for the night.” Father wrapped his arms around her.
    I thought my parents did not like Comrade Li because he bought things from us. I was wrong.

Homemade Ice Cream and German Chocolate
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    We didn’t have a real shower in our apartment. Mother attached a hose to the faucet in the kitchen. She tied the other end to a water pipe that ran up to the ceiling. It hung over a drain in the corner of our concrete floor. This became our shower.
    Each day of summer, I looked forward to getting in the cold shower after dinner. I stayed in as long as I could.
    â€œHurry up, Ling. I have the ointment ready for you.” Mother opened the kitchen door a crack.
    â€œI’m drying off.” I quickly turned off the water and wrapped myself in a big towel decorated with a red rose print.
    Mother came in. With a cotton ball, she swabbed a white, cooling mint ointment all over my neck, arms,
and legs. It felt like she had blown magic cold air onto my heat rash. The itching stopped for a minute. I wished my skin could feel this way the rest of the day. In the mirror hanging next to the kitchen window, I saw an oval-faced porcelain doll with patches. I stretched wide my double-lidded eyes and wobbled my head. If we could just run our fan more often. What was taking the Revolution so long?
    As I dressed, I heard Father greeting someone. “Come in! Come in, please!”
    A soft voice asked, “Where is my sweet girl?” It was Mrs. Wong! I quickly buttoned my cotton blouse and ran out of the kitchen. Dr. Wong, Mrs. Wong, and their son, Niu, were here. The Wongs had just returned from shopping. A big yellow straw bag sat by our front door.
    â€œHere I am!” I stretched out my arms and wrapped them around Mrs. Wong’s waist. When she bent down to kiss my cheek, her long, wavy hair tickled my nose and smelled of jasmine tea. I once overheard her tell Mother she used pearl powder to wash her face and tea to rinse her hair. She had to be the most beautiful lady in the world. Today she wore a
red silk top with ruffles all down the front and a big full skirt with red and green flowers.
    Behind her stood Dr. Wong and Niu. Dr. Wong wore a light yellow shirt, white shorts, and a pair of white leather shoes. He was not as tall as Father, but had the same wide shoulders and dark skin. He looked like a tennis player from Father’s English magazines.
    â€œIs this a good time to visit?” With one finger, Dr. Wong pushed up his gold-framed glasses. He glanced at Comrade Li’s apartment.
    Father shrugged. “Let me show you this article.” He led Dr. Wong to our dinner table.
    Niu’s short-sleeved white shirt was tucked into his long blue trousers. He walked over to Father’s bookcase and pulled out a music book. Mrs. Wong complained to Mother that Niu refused to wear shorts, no matter how hot it was. I guessed that was because he didn’t want his skinny chopstick legs to show.
    â€œLet me take a good look at you, my little doll.” Mrs. Wong bent down on one knee. She pulled back my collar to examine my neck.
    â€œMy poor thing! You shouldn’t wear a blouse with a collar anymore, it makes your rash worse.” Her big
brown eyes widened. “Come upstairs. We’ll pick out a fabric and I’ll sew you a new blouse.”
    I felt as if she had just handed me a bag of ginger candy. I looked at Mother for approval. The smile faded from her face.
    I hoped she’d let me go.
    Mrs. Wong had told Mother many times that she dreamed of having a daughter like me. Sometimes I wondered if Mother would be as nice if she stayed home like Mrs. Wong did. Yet Mother often told Father she couldn’t imagine