Chapter 5

Just as they had reached the four year mark in Macau, things finally came to a head between Simon and Isaiah. Isaiah would love to have throttled his son, just to knock some sense and humily into him, if only he could move fast enough to catch him. Simon, for his part, would have loved to have teach his old man a lesson, if being crippled didn't forever taint that allowance. As it was, tempers simmered along for lack of a release.

Isaiah had indeed become a changed man after his stroke. His bitterness tinged everything which made being around him hardly bearable. One of the reasons people had such sympathy for Sarah was knowing Isaiah's temper. Yet, it seemed a miracle to most in the church that Isaiah seemed to know and understand where each person's breaking point was, and he seemed to stay clear of that. Nonetheless, his temper was still something to behold.

No slouch in the temper department himself, Simon had the fiery Ching temper. Once it flared, it had to burn itself out or the simmering result would last in a fireball no one in the family wanted to experience. Therefore, Simon almost always got what he wanted, from food at dinner to getting a partition to his part of the studio apartment. Barbara and Carol would console themselves telling each other about how hard it'd be for Simon to find a wife who was willing to put up with both his idiosyncracies as well as temper. The more repugnant his temper, the more they voiced this opinion as if to curse him.

This particular row was over Simon's grades. At first, Simon got top honors no matter the class but after three years, his grades were bordering on being average. Why! Isaiah wanted to know from his son, how could he, a principal's son, let his grades fall to such an... average (the word was spat out) degree?

Barbara, having just gotten home from school, pulled up a chair to eat her afternoon snack of red bean biscuit. For a moment, she wondered if she should get up and seek out some amusement but Simon shot her a pleading look. Resignedly, she tried to make herself as small as she could in the corner.

Isaiah was waving his cane around like a sword, his voice getting louder with every swipe he took. "I just don't understand it. You have got to be one of the brightest I've ever seen and yet, you're willing to throw it all away! What is wrong with you, that you have to spit on everything that's given to you?"

Simon yawned, which infuriated Isaiah more; Barbara could tell by how wide the arcs in his swing was. "You listen to me! Don't you remember your teachings? Honor your father and mother! Is this how you honor your mother, how you honor me? No, you disgrace me! And your mother!"

At this, Simon took offense. "Mother understands why I needn't bother! Peh, the way you're acting, this is Oxford. Wake up and look around, old man. This isn't Shanghai. This is Macau. And you cannot call that school, a university! Why should I try? I might as well go to the racetrack!"

"The racetrack! I knew it! I knew you were up to no good. Do you know what God thinks of gambling?" Isaiah was almost spitting his words out.

"Do you know, old man," Simon said slowly, pointing to Isaiah's brandished cane, "how that was paid for? Do you really think Mother says no when I give her part of my winnings? She says, 'Thank you, Son,' then goes out and buys you special spices so you can have your chili dishes. Simon leaned into his father's face, "Why don't you say, 'Thank you?'"

Immediately, a clang rang out as the cane dropped onto the tiled floor followed by an echoing smack. Barbara looked up to see Simon's aghast face as he clutched his left cheek. Her father was beckoning to her brother, "Come on closer, so I can get the other cheek, son."

Simon spat at the ground and left the house.

Sighing heavily, Isaiah leaned over to pick up his cane, but it had skittered just out of his reach. Barbara ran over to help him. "Obedient daughter," Isaiah muttered absently. Was it her imagination or did her father just sprout some white hair? It was hard to tell against the pale skin. Her father's gaze landed on her and his eyes focused. "So, youngest daughter of mine. What shall we do about this brother of yours? It seems he needs a challenge. Where shall he go?"

"Well, most of our family went to America. Maybe they can help?"

"I've tried. It seems most don't want to associate with the principal of a school that printed Communist propaganda. Strange, huh?" Isaiah's eyes twinkled at his daughter. She giggled, happy to see some life stirring in her father again. Perhaps it took Simon making him this mad to appreciate life again?

"Well, you know who else is in America? My godparents."

"Oh yes! Victor and Samantha. Why don't you write them and see," here, Isaiah's tone turned mocking, "if they're up to handling an ill-tempered genius?"

Simon's fate was sealed the second Barbara put pen to paper.

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