"There you go, sweetie. How does that feel?" Dave patted the thirteen-year-old on the head.
She sniffed. "Better…"
"Good," Dave smiled, putting away the extra bandages. "Now…Quan-Yin, you have to tell me something, okay?"
She looked down at her bandaged arm then pulled her intricate silk sleeve over it.
"You promise you'll tell me the truth?"
The girl was small for her age and as she nodded her ornate hair decoration jangled.
Dave licked his lips, steeling himself for what he was about to ask. "Quan-Yin… how did you break your arm?"
Her shoulder's hunched slightly. "I don't remember."
Dave ran a hand over his face. Damn this was hard. "Quan-Yin, you promised to tell me the truth. You're lying to me."
She looked up suddenly, tears brimming in her dark eyes. Her face was ashen. "No! I would never lie to you!"
Dave leaned closer, prompting her to continue.
"It's just that…" the little girl suddenly looked up at a figure behind him, fear and shock registering on her face. Dave turned to look behind him and saw her stern father standing in the doorway. Dave's expression of compassion immediately felled and he furrowed his brow, looking back to the little girl.
"You're almost done?" came her father's demanding question.
Dave looked at Quan-Yin who was biting her lip to further tears from escaping. He felt hot anger rise in him. How dare that man…
"Yes, Sir, almost," he gently grabbed her wrist again and pretended to examine it further, terrified to leave her alone with this man. Her father squinted as he watched Dave pass a message of hope through his eyes to the little girl. Anger boiled inside of him, also.
"No. You are done. You will leave now."
"Sir, I haven't fully examined your daughter's-"
"No. I will have no more of this. I see that she is bandaged. You are done."
Dave knew better than to argue. Sometimes his American upbringing made it difficult to understand the customs and mannerisms of the Chinese. He grabbed his medical bag and rose, glancing at the girl's tiny, bound feet. 'Well, let's let that arm of yours heal. Don't use it for at least six weeks. I'll come back and check on you often," there was a silent promise that passed between them through Dave's serious tone as he spoke the last sentence.
Quan-Yin merely kept her eyes glued to the floor as she cradled her wrist with her other hand and arm.
Dave turned and Mr. Xiang-Fu led him to the door. As he opened it he plastered on a fake expression of thankfulness. "Thank you for your assistance. Quan-Yin may have had years of training, but she is still very clumsy."
Dave gave him a fake smile as he exited. "I understand," Dave lied, not wanting to anger the man more for fear that he'd take it out on his daughter. "Just make sure she doesn't use that arm. It's very important."
The two men bowed to each other and Mr. Xiang-Fu shut the door.
Dave sighed. Jeez… the poor thing was being beaten and there wasn't anything he could do about it…. He took off down the muddy road home. All he wanted to do was release the emotional stress building up in him.
He'd been able to hear the distant rumble of thunder for a few hours now as the first drops of rain began to fall. Of course… it was sunny when he'd left the house for a stroll. He'd bumped into a frantic maid of Quan-Yin's begging for help. He'd grabbed his medical bag and followed her, terribly uncomfortable running in the early morning heat. However, now he wished he'd had a coat as the light sprinkle turned into a violent downpour. "Great… just great…" he sighed, feeling the water soak through his white collared shirt and make his trousers cling to his legs.
He was out of the town and getting his shoes a nice coat of mud as he glanced about at the surrounding countryside. That was when he spotted a funny little man in the distance who cursing as he noticed his shoes were getting ruined. The man was dressed in western attire and clearly having trouble dealing with his present situation. "You can take the man out of New York, but you can't take the New York out of the man…" Dave muttered as a smile spread across his face. He jogged up to his fellow American. "Greetings Mr. Greene."
"What?! Who said that?!" he spun around. "Oh, it's you Malucci. You gave me quite a fright."
"Mr. Greene, you know as well as I do that ghosts don't come around these parts," he couldn't help teasing the older man.
"Well, the unholy kind at least… would you mind escorting me to your father's residence? I seem to have lost my way…"
"On the contrary you're going in exactly the right direction, Mr. Greene. Have a little more faith in yourself."
The Missionary chuckled as he patted the small Bible that he always kept in his pocket. "The only think I have faith in right now is the Great Lord almighty and a hot cup of tea."
Dave laughed. "Well, then, let's not try your faith by standing out here in the rain. It's only a mile from here."
The two trudged on, laughing and chatting, trying to keep the cold and wet in the backs of their minds.
"Dad?" Dave leaned into the study, not wanting to drip onto the floor.
"Yes, Jr.?"
"Mr. Greene is here to see you."
His father set down his journal and stood, striding towards his son and waiting guest.
As the two old friends greeted each other Dave walked into his bedroom and began to unbutton his soaked shirt. "What are you up to now, John?"
His little brother sat hunched over his desk, drawing and scribbling letters and numbers furiously. "A new idea of mine…"
Dave laughed as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it into a wash basket. "Another new idea? What is it, the third this week?"
"Fourth, actually," John spoke distractedly as he viscously scribbled some more. "There!" He spun around and triumphantly held up his work.
"Well John, that's the nicest looking… elephant that I've ever seen…" Dave put his hands on his hips.
"David, it's a war machine, you know? It's a little bit like those of the Middle Ages. See the turrets."
Dave squinted.
John frowned and began to roll the piece of paper into a scroll, muttering to himself. "I knew it… I knew it was a bad idea… I knew you wouldn't like it…"
Dave began to button up his dry, clean shirt. "John! Jeez, quit acting like a kid, you're nineteen!"
"What? You want me to be more like you? David Malucci Jr. who has everything easy?"
"Jonathan, what are you talking about?" Dave held out his arms questioningly, caught off guard by his brother's sudden outburst.
"You're so lucky. All you have to do is pick up that little black bag and you're mom and dad's hero… I can't even come up with an invention that works…"
"John…" Dave sat in the vacant chair next to his younger brother. "Why don't you just accept that scholarship and go to college back home? They need people like you there… they need dreamers to become rich."
"I dunno…" he lazily drew circles on the sheet of paper in front of him. "It's just… it's so far away and I want to be with you all. I want to make dad happy and proud of me the way you do. Sometimes it seems like nothing I do is good enough… I'm always in your shadow."
"Well, I don't know how that could be because you're taller than me…" he smirked. His brother only let out a small smile. "John, trust me. No one has it easy. Personally, I'm jealous of you."
"You are?" John looked up, slightly amazed.
"Of course I am! Dad isn't always dragging you around on house calls…I don't even know if I really want to be a doctor but I don't have a choice now. They don't expect as much of you… and I'm always the first to get in trouble. You get to relax… and got to college in America!"
"But I don't want to go…"
"Look, John, all I'm saying is look at your life as possibilities, not hindrances."
John smirked. "How do you know all this stuff?"
Dave chuckled and patted his shoulder. "'Cuz I'm your big brother." He rose and walked out In search of a dry pair of pants.
John loved the way that Dave could always make him feel better. Maybe that was why he'd spent nearly all of his life trying to be just like Dave.
