Tiger Girl by May-lee Chai Read Free Book Online Page A

only person in the living room. Uncle’s bedroom door was closed. I couldn’t remember if I’d left it open or not. Quietly, I got up and tiptoed to the door. Leaning close, I listened with my ear cupped to the wood. From deep within, I could hear Uncle’s soft snores. He muttered to himself occasionally, an anxious but conversational tone, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. He might have been arguing or praying. I couldn’t even tell in which language he was dreaming anymore.

CHAPTER 6
The Knife Thrower
    The next morning Uncle made us breakfast—omelettes and toast. He must have stopped by the grocery store before coming home last night.
    â€œJust like a hotel,” he said grandly, a dish towel draped over his arm as he set my plate before me. “Voilà, Mademoiselle.” I giggled despite myself at his fancy manners.
    He sat across from me at the table and picked up his fork and knife. “So, do you like your university? You are the first member of our family in America to go to school.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said.
    He nodded. “What is your major?”
    â€œI’m still undeclared.” I tried to think of a way to change the subject. “The donut shop is a lot of work for you.”
    â€œI know that university is very expensive in America. I will help you out, of course.”
    So that’s why he thinks I’m here? To make him pay for my college?
I put my fork down. If he wanted to play games, I might as well forget about being polite and just confront him. Ask him why he didn’t tell me that he was really my father, not my uncle. I took a deep breath, and the dry, burnt feeling of toast crumbs coated the back of my throat. I coughed and coughed.
    Alarmed, Uncle poured a glass of water and offered it to me.
    Tears welled up in my eyes, and I took huge gasps of air, like a fish that had leaped too high and accidentally beacheditself onto its river’s bank. I struggled not to panic. Finally, when I could stop coughing, I drank the glass of water, but my throat still felt as though it were coated in fiberglass.
    â€œDon’t worry. We shouldn’t talk of important things when we’re eating,” Uncle said. He took my plate.
    I gulped more water. “Sorry.”
    Uncle shook his head. “If you’re ready, we can go.”
    And so we headed back to the donut shop without my getting any closer to the truth.
    Anita was already at work. She was serving up donuts for a line of nurses in scrubs who were either on their way to work or possibly on their way home after a night shift.
    Miraculously, all the cases were filled with new pastries.
    The air smelled like sugar and coffee, with just a faint whiff of Anita’s cigarette smoke.
    Then I saw him behind the counter, the thug from last night. He was wearing a white apron over a white T-shirt and torn jeans, and his muscled arms were covered in tattoos: long lines of Khmer script, four Chinese characters, and a snarling tiger. I almost didn’t notice that his right hand was injured. His thumb and index finger were missing.
    â€œHi there, sugar,” Anita called out. “Have a bite before you get to work.”
    â€œThanks, but we already ate,” I said, and I followed Uncle into the kitchen. There were giant batter-spattered metal bowls, rotary blades, spatulas, and baking trays piled high in the stainless steel sinks. “You must have an army of people come in overnight.” I whistled. “I can start on the dishes.”
    â€œSitan will help you. Normally he’ll be back here, but it’s busy this morning.” Uncle disappeared into a supply closet and re-emerged with a pile of flattened cardboard boxes.
    â€œMore donations?” I asked.
    Uncle nodded. “I’ll be back soon. Just have to make my morning rounds.”
    I knew he was going to give away half his stock again, and the businesswoman in me cringed. But I