JING-MEI WOO
The Joy Luck Club
My father has asked me to be the fourth corner at the Joy Luck Club. I am to replace my mother, whose seat at the mah jong table has been empty since she died two months ago. My father thinks she was killed by her own thoughts.
“She had a new idea inside her head.” said my father. “But before it could come out of her mouth, the thought grew too big and burst. It must have been a very bad idea.”
The doctor said she died of a cerebral aneurysm. And her friends at the Joy Luck Club said she died just like a rabbit: quickly and with unfinished business left behind. My mother was supposed to host the next meeting of the Joy Luck Club.
The week before she died, she called me, full of pride, full of life: “Auntie Lin cooked red bean soup for Joy Luck. I’m going to cook black sesame-seed soup.”
“Don’t show off,” I said.
“It’s not show-off.” She said the two soups were almost the same, chabudwo. Or maybe she said butong, not the same thing at all. It was one of those Chinese expressions that means the better half of mixed intentions. I can never remember things I didn’t understand in the first place.
吳晶妹
喜福會
父親要我加入母親在喜福會麻將桌上的位置，在她去世後的兩個月一直是空著的。他認爲母親是被自己腦中的思緒給殺死的，「那新的想法在脫口而出前就長得太大而漲破了，一定是非常不好的念頭。」父親說。
醫生說她的死因是腦動脈瘤。母親在喜福會的朋友形容她走得像隻兔子：迅速地離開並留下未完成的業務，她原先是下一次聚會的主理人。
母親離開的前一週打給我，語氣裡聽得出滿滿的自豪和生氣，「林阿姨要替聚會煮紅豆湯，我決定要做黑芝麻糊。」
「別賣弄了。」我說。
「才不是賣弄。」她說兩種料理幾乎一樣，差不多。還是其實她說了不同，完全是兩回事。我從來沒搞懂過中文表達裡的雙關語，總是無法記得一開始就沒理解的事。
