Free If I Could Tell You by Lee-Jing Jing Page B

Auntie? she said. Her Mandarin was flawless and she was smiling so warmly I felt I should just go ahead, it wouldn’t hurt to let her tell me about the courses, would it.
    So I said, could you tell me about the courses? The English courses? I’d like to–
    I didn’t know what else to tell her because what else would a person want, signing up for an English course. I could have said that I want to learn English so I can understand what I’m looking at when my daughter shows me her books and homework. I want to be able to read signs and know where to go and how and not wander around blindly when I’m in a new place or have to ask strangers who are too much in a rush to help me. Know what it is I am actually looking at when I pick out a bottle of something new at the grocery store and the package doesn’t have a picture on it that shows just what is inside. There would be other things I could learn just from knowing how to read. I heard that there are countless things one can learn from books. Things to do with computers, things I couldn’t even think of. The most familiar of it would be cookbooks with food from other countries. Mrs Lim, who moved out a few weeks ago, used to give me recipes she took from books but now I have no one to read them and tell me how to make something new. I asked my husband once but he just laughed, called me
kampung
girl, and said, why bother? You can watch cooking shows from the TV and learn.
    The woman watched me so intently, her eyes dark and bright, that I felt I had to look at something else. So I fixed my eyes on her
tudung
, her headscarf which was black with a silver and grey coloured pattern of flowers on it. I looked at it while she reached over the counter, drew out several pamphlets from the lot and put them in front of me, saying, this is for basic conversational English, this is for business, this is for grammar.
    I squinted at them until she pushed one toward me. Maybe you would like to try this one first? The basic conversational? You need to fill in this form and then make the payment. It’s fifty dollars for twelve classes, she said.
    I thought about the money I had in my purse. The few crumpled notes crammed together with a bunch of coins.
    Maybe... I’ll go home and think about it, I said.
    I folded the piece of paper away in my trouser pocket and made to go. But I stopped and said, your Mandarin’s so good. Where did you learn it?
    She said, my neighbours taught me simple words when I was young. Then in primary school, I happened to be the only Malay girl so I took Mandarin classes along with the rest of my classmates. We speak Malay at home anyway and my parents thought it would be good for me.
    She said this all and smiled. I nodded back at her. I went close, put the paper form back on the counter and said, could you help me? Help me fill this in?
    ALL the way home I kept my hand in my pocket, held the folded pamphlet between my thumb and forefinger. The woman at the counter said I needed to bring pen and paper and that class started at seven-thirty next Wednesday and did I need help remembering? They had a text service to remind people on their mobile phones. I told her no, it was fine. I decided while making dinner that I would tell both of them at the same time, so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself. I would do it, I thought, as soon as he walked through the door. But when he got home, he disappeared into the bedroom and didn’t emerge until dinner was on the table. Even then, he didn’t look at me or Mei Ling as he sat down, said nothing as he ate, occupied the space and air with his silence, his eyes visible just from the top of the bowl, dark and unblinking. I couldn’t tell him. Not then.
    Mei Ling looked at her father, then at me, then back again, as if trying to gauge if it was okay to speak. She decided that it was, then said, pa? using that voice which turned up at the end.
    Her father didn’t look at her, only jerked his head a little to mean,