The Last Supper


"Anybody here?" Kok Sai asked cheerfully, rapping his knuckles against the door. The wooden slats were already slotted in place with just the door panels remaining open to let the last of the customers leave.

"Uncle Sai!" Ching exclaimed, running up to take his left hand and lead him into the shop.

Ming, attending to a customer at the counter, could not do the same. She joined them as soon as the customer left, closing the door to lock up at the same time.

"Mummy and I are going to the States!" Ching told her uncle excitedly.

Bee Hua, carrying in a huge platter of fried rice, paused briefly when she heard her daughter. Ching and Ming, her 12-year-old twins, had been told not to say anything to anyone. So far, they had been able to contain themselves; Kok Sai, her brother-in-law, was now the first one to know about the trip. Perhaps, as the day to leave came closer, it would be harder to keep quiet about it anymore.

Her husband reached the dinner table, set down the platter of Hokkien Mee, and turned to help her. His face wore its usual passive look, the same look that had greeted her announcement that she was taking up the scholarship, and later, when they discussed what would happen with the twins.

Kok Sai looked at his brother and sister-in-law, but finding no response from either, surveyed the food on the table. As always, the fat noodles simmering in the dark sauce promised gastronomic heaven, while the fried rice was ... well, fried rice. He turned his attention to the inverted half-moon food protector beside the two main platters and exclaimed when he saw, beneath it, barbecued and roast pork in one dish and steamed green vegetables in another.

"Barbecued and roast pork, and steamed vegetables, too … hmm, nice!" he said aloud. "But not enough. Let me go to the corner stall and get some bah good teh. Coming, kids?"

Both girls refused, but Ming followed to unlock the front door for him. Ten minutes later, he was back, filling the shop with the greasy aroma of the pork ribs stewed in herbal soup.

"I told them to put it on your tab," he said to his brother as he placed the steaming bowl carefully on the table.

By now, an extra set of eating utensils - bowl, plate, spoon and pair of chopsticks - had been placed on the table, and a fifth chair added to the other four. The two girls waited until their parents and uncle had sat down before joining them.

"This is one of the best bah good teh in town, you know," Kok Sai said as he placed his bowl next to the soup, and began spooning both soup and pork ribs into the bowl. Next, he piled his plate with the noodles before adding some slices of the barbecued and roast pork and strands of the steaming vegetables.

"Mmm … the stall-holder really uses good herbs," he added, slurping the soup with gusto. "Not like some of the others who water down the soup."

"How's the roast pork?" he asked aloud as he put a choice piece from his plate into his mouth. He made a face. "Eh, the skin not crispy at all! No good … "

"Eat, girl," he suddenly said, looking directly at Ching. "You're not going to get such good food when you're in the States."

His brother and family ate quietly, each parent attending to a child. Bee Hua stopped every now and then to ask if Ming, seated beside her, wanted anything she could not reach.

"You'll probably get lots of fried rice there," Kok Sai continued. "It's the staple of the Chinese take-away shops. But remember never to order the chop suey - that's not Chinese at all, just some American concoction made up of leftover bits and pieces."

Ching giggled; her Ah Ba's youngest brother was quite a funny man.

"How come you know so much, Uncle Sai?" Ming ventured to ask.

"I studied in London," came his reply. "And I worked in a Chinese take-away during the summers."

Silence returned, broken only by the crunching of the crispy fried lard pieces found in the noodles. It was Ming's favourite, but Ching didn't really care for it, so she probably would not miss it while in the States.

"Not that your mum would do much cooking when you are in the States," Kok Sai spoke up again. "She has never done any cooking here as far as I can remember. Every time I visit, it's always the same food, leftovers from the stalls in this shop … "

This time, his brother visibly stumbled as he spooned the herbal soup into his bowl, sloshing some of it onto the table.

"When did you decide to go anyway?" Kok Sai finally asked the question uppermost on his mind. "And what for?"

"About a month ago," Bee Hua replied, putting her chopsticks down. "I have been given a scholarship to pursue my painting."

"A month ago?" he spluttered. "Who's going to look after my brother and niece? Why are you taking only Ching, and not Ming? And why are you letting them go?"

The last question was aimed at his brother who remained quiet.

"Excuse me, I still have some packing to do," his sister-in-law said, getting up. "We're leaving in the morning."

The twins followed their mother, getting up from the table and walking towards the back of the shop, to the stairs leading up to their rooms on the top floor.

"Listen, they're not going to be gone forever," Kok Loong, their father, finally said his first sentence of the evening. "Don't make it worse than it already is."

"But why Ching, not Ming?" Kok Sai still wanted to know.

"Ming will be a better helper in the shop … want some beer?" Kok Loong asked, getting up and changing the subject. He came back with a large bottle of Anchor and two glasses. "And we're washing up tonight, okay?"

Years later, remembering that dinner, Ming realised why Uncle Sai stopped being her favourite uncle … because he reminded her of the family's last supper together.

© Chet Chin, 24 March 1999