Preconceptions

by Becky Bain

Cassie Chandler stared at her reflection in the bathroommirror. Stupid narrow eyes. Stupid yellow skin. Stupid Chineseface. She hated them all.

She flipped off the light and stood in the darkness a moment,fighting angry tears. Only when she was sure her eyes would remaindry did she limp down the short hall and into the living room.

There was homework she ought to be doing, but she didn't feellike facing algebra tonight. Instead, she wandered out onto the widetiled balcony. A cold wind prickled her cheeks and cut through thefleece of her sweatshirt. She crossed her arms, tucking her handsunder for warmth, and turned her back to the wind. It was alreadystarting to get dark and lights were coming on across the city. Shehated winter, too.

She was still there fifteen minutes later, huddled in an angleof the brick parapet, when a soft thump and whisper of fabric toldher she was no longer alone.

"Cassie?" Vincent sounded surprised. "What is it, littleone?" he asked in formal Mandarin Chinese. "What is wrong?"

Cassie shook her head. "Nothing," she mumbled, in English.

He crouched beside her, the bulk of his body sheltering herfrom the wind. "You aren't out here in the cold with no coat overnothing," he said, also in English. He held out his hands. "Come."

She let him help her up. Her muscles, cramped with cold,protested the movement and he half-carried her into the warmapartment and settled her in a chair.

"Mother's not home yet," she mumbled.

"I know," he answered. "She'll be here soon."

Of course he'd know that. She knew about the strange andwonderful connection they shared. Sometimes... not often, butsometimes... she wished things could be the way they used to be.

Before Vincent came back from a six-year absence with a strangetale of spending a single night in an isolated cavern and emerging tofind time had gone on without him. When her adoptive mother had onlyher, Cassie, to love and care for. And Cassie had only her mother. Just the two of them.

But Vincent was gentle and kind and good, and she loved him. The tears she'd quenched earlier flooded out now in a rush of hotshame.

He held out his arms; she flung herself into them and buriedher face against his soft ribbed vest.

At last she stopped crying, but was too ashamed to meet hiseyes.

He stroked her hair. "Will you tell me what's troubling you,little one?"

Miserably, she shook her head.

"Please? I want to help."

Before she could refuse again, he looked toward the door. "Your mother is here," he said, an instant before a key scratched inthe lock.

Cassie straightened and hurriedly mopped at her face with hersleeve. Vincent kept his arm around her shoulders.

"Hi!" her mother said brightly as she came in. Her first smilewas for Vincent; when her gaze moved to Cassie, she drew her browstogether. "Cassie? What's wrong? Have you been crying?"

Cassie swiped at her face again. "No."

Her mother looked to Vincent.

"She is fine," he said.

"Oh. Did you tell her?"

Vincent shook his head. "We agreed we'd tell hertogether."

Distracted, Cassie looked from one to the other. "Tell mewhat?"

Her mother sank down on the sofa and patted the space besideher. "Come sit down."

Suddenly wary, Cassie obeyed.

Her mother peered at her closely. "You're sure you're allright?"

She nodded with more vigor than was warranted, carefullyavoiding Vincent's eyes. He moved to stand behind her mother, hishand on Catherine's shoulder, but said nothing to give Cassie away. She forced her voice to be bright. "What did you want to tellme?"

Her mother glanced up and back, a look filled with wonder anddelight. Vincent returned the look in equal measure. Plainly theywere happy about something. Something important.

Cassie instinctively held her breath.

"We wanted you to be the first to know," her mother said, hereyes dancing. "There's going to be a new baby here."

"A baby?" Cassie repeated the words slowly. Something insideher drew itself together and became very still. "Will you go toChina for this one, too?"

Her mother looked surprised, and then laughed lightly. "Notthis time." She patted her stomach, down low. "We're doing this onethe old-fashioned way."

"Oh." Cassie felt the odd stillness spread. She'd known for along time that Vincent spent nights in her mother's room. On rareweekends, he was even there when she woke up in the morning. She hadeven assumed, without giving it much thought, that they must be doingthe things that men and women do together - the things the other kidsin her school giggled about. But she'd never thought about ababy.

Their own baby. Not one adopted from another country, anotherculture. One that would look like them. Not one with slanted eyesor yellow skin. Not one with a hateful limp.

In her native China, families were allowed one child only, andthat was all she could think of. Her early training took over andshe forced a smile as she rose to her feet. "I am very happy foryou," she said formally, and bent to kiss her mother's cheek. "Maythe fortunes bless you with a son."

She glanced up at Vincent, who was eyeing her curiously. "Please excuse me."

She escaped to her room just in time. The sound of the doorclosing covered the long, ragged sobbing breath that escaped her. She flung herself on the bed, pressing her face hard into the pillowuntil she was sure she wasn't going to cry. From now on, there wouldbe no more crying. Tears were a luxury she could no longerafford.

She pushed herself up and surveyed her room. It was a prettyroom. She'd chosen the colors and fabrics and furnishings herself,cool blues and greens, light woods. Like her mother's room.

It would be a pretty baby's room, she thought. If they tookout her twin-sized canopy bed and replaced it with a crib.

She hoped the baby would like it.

She wondered which of her things she could take with her. Andthen it occurred to her to wonder where she would go. To Vincent'sworld? Maybe. She'd been there only a handful of times, but sheliked it. The people there were kind and nobody ever teased herabout her eyes or her skin or her limp. Maybe there was a place forher in the tunnels.

Or maybe not. Maybe Vincent and her mother - Catherine, shethought fiercely. If she's not going to be my mother anymore, Ishould to learn to call her Catherine. Or Cathy, like Joe does. Maybe Vincent and Catherine wouldn't want her so close, where theywould see her all the time. Maybe it would bother them.

I'll bet there's an orphanage, she thought bravely. Betterthan the one in China. Cleaner, and with enough to eat. Maybe I'llgo there.

She opened a drawer and started selecting sweatshirts andt-shirts, stacking them neatly on the bed. The baby couldn't wearthese things, so surely her mother - Catherine - wouldn't mind if shetook them with her.

She loved her mother fiercely, and whatever happened, shemustn't let her know how upset she was. Nothing must mar Catherine'sjoy in the new baby. Certainly not a little thing like ano-longer-wanted adopted daughter.

A light tap on her door made her stiffen. She glanced towardit, then slowly put down the sweater in her hands. "Come in."

Catherine opened the door; Vincent stood behind her, his bulkfilling the opening.

"Cassie, what are you doing?" Catherine came into the room andstared at the clothing on the bed in evident bewilderment.

"I am packing my things," Cassie said quietly. "I didn't thinkyou would mind."

"Your things? Packing?" Catherine's expression was one ofutter confusion. "Where are you going?"

Cassie looked away. "I don't know," she whispered. "I willfind a place. Please don't worry about me."

Catherine stared. "Don't worry? Of course I worry. That's myjob. I'm your mother."

Cassie flinched. "It is all right," she said softly. "Iunderstand about the new baby. I know you will not want meanymore."

Her mother's gasp was one of horror. "What do you mean, Iwon't want you? How can you think such a thing?"

Cassie looked at the floor. "Because I am ugly. I have uglyeyes and skin. Your new baby will not need an operation to walk. Itwill not be ugly, like me."

"Cassandra." Vincent's voice, deep and low. He must be angrywith her. He never called her by her full name. "Please look atme."

Reluctantly she raised her eyes. His were soft andcompassionate, not angry at all. "Who has been saying these thingsto you?"

She twisted her hands together. "No one," she whispered,ashamed.

"Someone has been. You would not think of them yourself."

She squirmed inwardly, cringing. She hated this. "Just someboys. At school."

"Who?" That was her mother, her voice sharp. "I want theirnames."

"No. Please. They're right. I am ugly."

"You're not..." her mother began, in fierce protest.

Vincent's voice, soft and insistent, interrupted. "Cassie. You must not allow the lies of others to influence yourthinking."

"They aren't lies," she mumbled. "I have a mirror. I knowwhat I see."

"Is it possible," he asked softly, "that you do not know howbeautiful you are?"

That hurt more than anything, that Vincent, whom she loved,would make fun of her. "Mother's beautiful," she whispered in agony. "Not me."

Vincent took her hands and guided her to the bed. He satbeside her, still holding her hands. "It is true that you and yourmother are very different," he said. "But there are many kinds ofbeauty. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

Miserable, she shook her head.

"I see almond eyes, dark and lovely. I see your skin, clearivory with the faintest touch of saffron. I see your hair, thick andblack with a texture like heavy silk."

When he described her, she did sound beautiful. She stared athim, afraid to believe. But Vincent never lied.

"But I limp," she faltered. Cries of "Ugly slant-eyed cripple"still rang in her memory.

"So you do," he acknowledged. "But less and less as timepasses. It is an insignificant flaw, little one. Much lesssignificant than mine." He indicated his face with a briefgesture.

"But you're beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Don't you knowthat?"

"I have been told so," he admitted. The corners of his mouthedged upward. "But others have shrieked at sight of me."

"That's because they don't know you," she said, filled withfierce loyalty. "There's nobody better than you."

"Your true friends will look beyond your limp," he said. "Believe me, Cassie. They will."

She thought of Jessica and Richard, who sat with her at lunchevery day and told her often to ignore the boys who taunted her. "They do," she admitted. "I have been too blind to see."

"I think I've been blind, too." Her mother's voice was verygentle. "I can't believe you think I would send you away."

Cassie flushed. "I can't believe you would want to keep me,when you can have a perfect child. A son."

"There's no guarantee this child will be perfect," her mothersaid. "And while it is true we are hoping it will be a boy, it isnot for the reasons you think."

"Boy children are always better," Cassie whispered. "Parentswant to keep the boys. That is why the orphanage in China had onlygirls."

"But this isn't China," her mother said softly, "and things aredifferent here." She sank down on the edge of the bed on Cassie'sother side. "We have said it would be nice to have a boy, because wealready have a girl. You are the daughter of my heart, Cassie. Itdoesn't matter that you weren't born to me. I love you. I willalways love you, and I'll always be your mother. Wherever you go,and whatever you do. That will never change."

Cassie felt her eyes filling again, but this time they weren'ttears of pain. "This is true?" she whispered.

Vincent took her hand; she looked at him through a blur oftears. "You know that it is," he promised solemnly. "I wasn't herewhen your mother adopted you, but I have come to think of you as mydaughter, as well. If you will have me as a father."

It was more than she'd ever dreamed. "I would be honored," shewhispered, overcome.

"We're a family, Cassie," her mother said firmly. "When thebaby comes, it will be part of this family. But it won't change us. And it certainly won't change the way we feel about you."

They meant it. Every word. They had never lied to her; sheknew now they never would.

Vincent squeezed her hand. "Are you all right now?"

She nodded and looked at him through a haze of tears. "I am sohappy," she explained. "And the baby... when the baby comes, I willbe even happier."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that," her mother said, smiling. "I want the two of you to be close."

"Oh, we will be," Cassie promised, and gave a small bounce ofexcitement. "I'm going to be a sister. It's going to be my baby,too!"

The End