"If I die you must find a woman. Someone to take care of the children."
"You won't die."
"Where is my son?" Yong-Ping asked.
"Lang is in the living room."
He glanced through the doorway and saw the boy on the couch and teenage Chin-Mei hanging laundry on a line strung through the room. After they'd arrived the family had taken turns showering then dressing in the clean clothes that Wu had bought at a discount store on Canal Street. After some food--which Yong-Ping had not taken a single bite of--Chin-Mei had directed her brother to the TV set and washed their saltwater-encrusted clothing in the kitchen sink. This is what she was now hanging up to dry.
Wu's wife looked around the room, squinting, as if trying to remember where she was. She gave up and rested her head on the pillow. "Where . . . where are we?"
"We're in Chinatown, in Manhattan of New York."
"But . . . " She frowned as his words belatedly registered in her feverish brain. "The Ghost, husband. We can't stay here. It's not safe. Sam Chang said we should not stay."
"Ah, the Ghost . . . " He gestured dismissively. "He has gone back to China."
"No," Yong-Ping said, "I don't think so. I'm scared for our children. We have to leave. We have to get as far away from here as we can."
Wu pointed out: "No snakehead would risk being captured or shot just to find a few immigrants who'd escaped. Are you foolish enough to think that?"
"Please, husband. Sam Chang said--"
"Forget Chang. He's a coward." He snapped, "We're staying." His anger at her disobedience was tempered by the sight of the poor woman and the pain she must be suffering. He added softly, "I'm going out. I'm going to get you some medicine."
She didn't respond and he rose and walked into the living room.
He glanced at the children, who looked uneasily toward the room where their mother lay.
"Is she all right?" the teenage girl asked.
"Yes. She'll be fine. I'll be back in a half hour," he said. "I'll get some medicine."
"Wait, Father," Chin-Mei said uncertainly, looking down.
"What?"
"May I come with you?" the girl asked.
"No, you will stay with your mother and brother."
"But . . . "
"What?"
"There is something I need."
A fashion magazine? he thought cynically. Makeup? Hair spray? She wants me to spend our survival money on her pretty face. "What?"
"Please let me come with you. I'll buy it myself." She was blushing fiercely.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"I need some things for . . . " she whispered, head down.
"For what?" he asked harshly. "Answer me."
She swallowed. "For my time. You know. Pads."