Typical American by Gish Jen Page B

"Of course, maybe he won't."
    Clinks. Helen could hear Janis washing dishes in the background. "You know what they say," Janis said finally. "Not even an earthworm can stay in the ground forever" A few clinks more. "Your sister-in-law should get married before he finds out."
    "She knows it herself."
    "Does she?" Janis stopped doing the dishes.
    "She said so the other day. That she should get married, I mean." Helen hesitated. Her words did not meet her understanding.
    But there was no chance to find better words. "I know just the person," said Janis.
    Was Theresa ready to look? Too polite to object, Helen found herself listening. ?n China, friends were always arranging things for each other; Janis's reaction felt familiar, a form of goodwill Helen knew how to accept. A friend of Henry's, Janis said. A Ph.D. "But, well, he was born here," she finished.
    "Born here?"
    "Well, I should say he's completely American," said Janis.
    "You mean..."
    "Well," said Janis. "He loves Chinese food."
    "A foreign devil?" said Helen. "A long nose?"

    That was the end of the matter.
    Or so it seemed. A few days later, another candidate surfaced. Born in China. Barely tall enough, and not much hair, some of it white, but he spoke Shanghainese and had a Ph.D.
    "I don't know," said Helen at first. Janis asked so many questions that Helen couldn't answer, though — wasn't it natural for women to marry? what could it hurt to ask? — that in the evening, she mentioned the man to Theresa, casually.
    "A friend of Janis Chao's?" Theresa dropped her book to her lap.
    "He has a Ph.D. —" started Helen.
    "You told Janis Chaor
    Helen's mind flooded then with questions of her own. How could she have embarrassed her sister-in-law that way? Who was she becoming? She did not raise the subject again.
    And so it was that by the time arranging an introduction came up once more — Theresa broached it this time — the old Shanghainese with a Ph.D. was taken.
    Janis had just one last bachelor in stock, her landlord. Short. No Ph.D. "American born," she told Helen. "Owns lots of property besides our building, and does other business too."
    "Is he Cantonese?" Helen didn't want to sound prejudiced, but at the very least, his dialect was a consideration. "What does he speak?"
    "English," said Janis. "This is America. His family has been here for so many generations, I don't think he even knows what province he's from. And what does it matter anymore? He's rich. You should see the shirts he wears! All nice and starched. His shoes shine like mirrors. And he has a maid, this one. Think of it — no housework!"
    A short, American-born, English-speaking businessman with no degree — for Theresa? It was a joke; but in the end, dinner was arranged, for fun.

    Not that he'd recognized its divinity at first — not in this flat rectangle wrapped in checkerboard paper; its attached clump of gray ribbon curlicues looked like the head of a mop. "You might open it," Pierce suggested. Ralph had ripped, smiling warily. The Power of Positive Thinking. "Ah," said Ralph.
    "I had hoped to get hold of the young people's edition." Pierce's goatee wagged. "Thinking, you know, the English. However, it was out of stock, so you have in your hands the genuine article."
    "Ah."
    "My wife's suggestion. I've been plagued over the years with headaches, you know. Not that it should concern you. But when they made their return — this is about the time you reappeared — she said — well."
    Ralph read, an arduous process. He did not see ideas, but shapes that became letters that he sounded out into words he then had to look up. He'd decipher a phrase, read it over again, pocket it while he worked on the next, until a whole sentence, a whole page was his. His alone! Of course, the book was a best seller, as he knew from its jacket. But how many people knew the book by heart? As per the author's instructions, he'd written down a statement to carry in his wallet: "I can do all things through Christ