You see how my life was? Pray, wash, pray, eat, pray, find people, pray, eat, pray, pray, pray. I made myself think I was safe with Lucy and Miss Katherine, and Miss Grace, and Mister Harold. Two years like this.
I tried to stop feeling, I tried to work, and for a while I thought I did. But then I found myself feeling things I never felt before.
I was very young then, just turned seventeen, and still beautiful. I am not making myself sound nice, I really was--blackest of black hair, very nice. I was still a witch, sometimes funny things would happen. But women in China weren't allowed wands--what could I do? I knew nothing about this, what you say, potions. I had the magic, but no way to let it out. But, you understand, I didn't mind. I was raised to not care. I could hardly tell the difference between magic and not magic, so why did it matter?
Maybe it was all the magic all inside me. Maybe it was an ordinary sort of magic, nature magic. Maybe it was fate. But soon I started to see Mister Harold in a new way.
Just how he ate, very neatly, polite even to his food. The way his hair fell to his eyes, the way he smiled--wah, but you don't want to hear about this, all this, what you say, mushy love talk. Only nice to hear in movies, not about your old mother.
You see, I hoped every day that Mister Harold would say, "Mary I love you!" Never happened just that way, but very close.
See, he had too many manners, too shy, which made me love him more. I tried to smile at him but how could I? I didn't know how to, what you call, flirt. Flirting, what was that? Chinese girls didn't flirt, imagine the shame. See how innocent I was?
Maybe it was the idea of a foreigner all of my own--he was Chinese, but lived in Britain all his life, just like you, see. Spoke perfect English, Cantonese too, and so in my broken English and our Cantonese we could talk.
He liked to talk, about just everything. Books he read, people he saw, even what he called politics which just sounded like a bunch of stupid silly men. Harold was a meinlul, of course, but there was something about him, something that was so...I don't know...magic?
And then, one day, right after Chinese New Year, he kissed me. You see, finally I knew that he loved me, and I could tell him that I loved him too. That spring I had Lucy sign divorce papers for me, and I married Harold.
I tried to stop feeling, I tried to work, and for a while I thought I did. But then I found myself feeling things I never felt before.
I was very young then, just turned seventeen, and still beautiful. I am not making myself sound nice, I really was--blackest of black hair, very nice. I was still a witch, sometimes funny things would happen. But women in China weren't allowed wands--what could I do? I knew nothing about this, what you say, potions. I had the magic, but no way to let it out. But, you understand, I didn't mind. I was raised to not care. I could hardly tell the difference between magic and not magic, so why did it matter?
Maybe it was all the magic all inside me. Maybe it was an ordinary sort of magic, nature magic. Maybe it was fate. But soon I started to see Mister Harold in a new way.
Just how he ate, very neatly, polite even to his food. The way his hair fell to his eyes, the way he smiled--wah, but you don't want to hear about this, all this, what you say, mushy love talk. Only nice to hear in movies, not about your old mother.
You see, I hoped every day that Mister Harold would say, "Mary I love you!" Never happened just that way, but very close.
See, he had too many manners, too shy, which made me love him more. I tried to smile at him but how could I? I didn't know how to, what you call, flirt. Flirting, what was that? Chinese girls didn't flirt, imagine the shame. See how innocent I was?
Maybe it was the idea of a foreigner all of my own--he was Chinese, but lived in Britain all his life, just like you, see. Spoke perfect English, Cantonese too, and so in my broken English and our Cantonese we could talk.
He liked to talk, about just everything. Books he read, people he saw, even what he called politics which just sounded like a bunch of stupid silly men. Harold was a meinlul, of course, but there was something about him, something that was so...I don't know...magic?
And then, one day, right after Chinese New Year, he kissed me. You see, finally I knew that he loved me, and I could tell him that I loved him too. That spring I had Lucy sign divorce papers for me, and I married Harold.