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Authors: Ivana Johnson
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arms around me. If she noticed the smell of pee-pee she didn’t mention it. She just hefted me off the floor and then pressed me to her chest.
“I’m sorry, Ms.—”
“Cauffield.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Cauffield. We had to give something to Lynn’s big sister. I turned my back just a second and she got away from me.” It was only then she must have noticed the puddle on the floor. “Did you have an accident, Lynn?”
I was still sobbing too hard, so I only nodded. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Cauffield—”
“It’s all right. Accidents happen. I’ll ask the janitor to clean it up.”
“Thank you so much.” Mommy bent my head into the crook of her neck. “It’s all right, sweetie. Let’s go home and get you changed.”
“OK,” I said with a sniffle.
The other kids were still laughing at me as Mommy carried me out. Even Ms. Cauffield was chuckling behind her hand again. They all thought I was a stupid baby now. But I wasn’t. I was a big girl. I was—
I barely noticed the world shimmer again. I’m three—and a half , I told myself. I’m a big girl ! And someday I would go to a school just like this and all the kids would like me and think I was pretty and nice.
When Mommy carried me into the bathroom, I saw my reflection. I had become a rotund Asian toddler. My round face had pinchable red cheeks, a darling button nose, and a pair of dimples when Mommy tickled me. There were glasses on my nose, magnifying my slanted brown eyes. My hair had turned black and unraveled from its braids to fall loose.
None of that seemed strange to me. I actually smiled into the mirror and waved at the pretty girl. I giggled as the other girl waved back to me. Then Mommy took me into a stall to wipe up between my legs.
“I’m sowwy, Mommy,” I mumbled.
“It’s OK. You were just scared. You shouldn’t run off like that.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Now, when we get home, you’re going to take a nap. You’re not going to give me any fussing about it, are you?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I wuv you, Mommy.”
“I wuv you too.” She hugged me. I felt so safe and warm. That was all I needed at that moment. Nothing else mattered anymore.
***
For the next fifteen years I was Lynn Fong. I grew up all over again, this time as Karen’s baby stepsister. We had our share of fights over toys and so forth, but she never made me feel like we weren’t real sisters just because she was white and I was Asian. I had to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic all over again without any benefit from having known them before.
Like any childhood there were ups and downs. The primary down involved my weight; the chubbiness from when I first became a toddler continued right on until I was in junior high. By then I had ballooned to nearly two hundred pounds and the doctor threatened I might soon develop diabetes. My parents enrolled me in a fat camp that over the course of a summer made me lose fifty pounds.
My second first period, I freaked out nearly as much as the first time around. I embarrassed myself slightly less, if only because it happened at home and not at school. Mom sat me down to have “the talk” and then introduced me to maxi pads.
Even after I lost the weight, I didn’t go out on a date until my senior year of high school. Thanks to being fat, Asian, and bespectacled I didn’t have lots of friends and gradually sought refuge in books. While it didn’t surprise many that the Chinese-American girl would make valedictorian, it required a lot of work on my part, a lot of evenings studying in my room when others—like Karen—were out with boys.
All that studying landed me a scholarship to Stanford that sent me across the country from Karen at Penn State. Not remembering my other life, I couldn’t appreciate the fact Karen was still alive as an adult. All I could feel was an intense dread to be so
“I’m sorry, Ms.—”
“Cauffield.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Cauffield. We had to give something to Lynn’s big sister. I turned my back just a second and she got away from me.” It was only then she must have noticed the puddle on the floor. “Did you have an accident, Lynn?”
I was still sobbing too hard, so I only nodded. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Cauffield—”
“It’s all right. Accidents happen. I’ll ask the janitor to clean it up.”
“Thank you so much.” Mommy bent my head into the crook of her neck. “It’s all right, sweetie. Let’s go home and get you changed.”
“OK,” I said with a sniffle.
The other kids were still laughing at me as Mommy carried me out. Even Ms. Cauffield was chuckling behind her hand again. They all thought I was a stupid baby now. But I wasn’t. I was a big girl. I was—
I barely noticed the world shimmer again. I’m three—and a half , I told myself. I’m a big girl ! And someday I would go to a school just like this and all the kids would like me and think I was pretty and nice.
When Mommy carried me into the bathroom, I saw my reflection. I had become a rotund Asian toddler. My round face had pinchable red cheeks, a darling button nose, and a pair of dimples when Mommy tickled me. There were glasses on my nose, magnifying my slanted brown eyes. My hair had turned black and unraveled from its braids to fall loose.
None of that seemed strange to me. I actually smiled into the mirror and waved at the pretty girl. I giggled as the other girl waved back to me. Then Mommy took me into a stall to wipe up between my legs.
“I’m sowwy, Mommy,” I mumbled.
“It’s OK. You were just scared. You shouldn’t run off like that.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Now, when we get home, you’re going to take a nap. You’re not going to give me any fussing about it, are you?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I wuv you, Mommy.”
“I wuv you too.” She hugged me. I felt so safe and warm. That was all I needed at that moment. Nothing else mattered anymore.
***
For the next fifteen years I was Lynn Fong. I grew up all over again, this time as Karen’s baby stepsister. We had our share of fights over toys and so forth, but she never made me feel like we weren’t real sisters just because she was white and I was Asian. I had to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic all over again without any benefit from having known them before.
Like any childhood there were ups and downs. The primary down involved my weight; the chubbiness from when I first became a toddler continued right on until I was in junior high. By then I had ballooned to nearly two hundred pounds and the doctor threatened I might soon develop diabetes. My parents enrolled me in a fat camp that over the course of a summer made me lose fifty pounds.
My second first period, I freaked out nearly as much as the first time around. I embarrassed myself slightly less, if only because it happened at home and not at school. Mom sat me down to have “the talk” and then introduced me to maxi pads.
Even after I lost the weight, I didn’t go out on a date until my senior year of high school. Thanks to being fat, Asian, and bespectacled I didn’t have lots of friends and gradually sought refuge in books. While it didn’t surprise many that the Chinese-American girl would make valedictorian, it required a lot of work on my part, a lot of evenings studying in my room when others—like Karen—were out with boys.
All that studying landed me a scholarship to Stanford that sent me across the country from Karen at Penn State. Not remembering my other life, I couldn’t appreciate the fact Karen was still alive as an adult. All I could feel was an intense dread to be so
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