“Mama and me, we passed by a carnival before,” Ona said. “Next to the train station and the Family Mart where a fat orange cat lives in the alley.” She remembered the row of trucks, like the one below, parked behind the grounds. She recalled the children clutching cones of bright pink cotton candy, others with clear plastic bags filled with water, minnows darting inside like pieces of glinting silver. “We didn’t go in, though.”
“Why not?”
Ona looked down over the balcony’s ledge. She remembered the laughing man wearing a floppy hat, the long strips of red paper tickets coiled around his neck. How her mother had held Ona’s hand tight and said they couldn’t afford to throw away money on silly games that were rigged anyway.
“We had to catch the train,” Ona said finally.
At the top of the ramp now, one of the men held a length of rope looped around the neck of a massive black stallion. The animal towered powerfully over the man, who was trying, unsuccessfully it seemed, to lead it down.
“It’s not a carnival,” Ona said. “It must be . . .” She searched her mind for another possibility. “A pony ride,” she decided.
“If you’re right, we’ll go down there and you can ride one.”
Ona wasn’t sure if she wanted a pony ride, but she nodded anyway. Below them, the man in the park coaxed the horse step by step down the incline, at turns pulling gently on the rope, then halting to stroke its mane, whispering into its ears. Ona had never seen a real horse before, only pictures of them in books. Even from her perch on the balcony ten stories up she saw clearly the wet smoothness of the eyes each time the animal blinked, the musculature in its flanks rippling under the glossy black hide. Something inside her trembled, watching the scene below.
Her grandfather asked about her ballet lessons, and Ona told him she was going to have a recital soon.
“When is it?” He spoke with a proper Beijing accent, a curl to his pronunciation, which only added to his serious demeanor in Ona’s eyes.
“The eighth of August,” she answered.
“Father’s Day?”
“There’s going to be a special routine for the finale.” Ona showed him her pirouette, followed by a deep bow with her arms held in third position. “And after that, all the fathers are invited onstage.”
Her grandfather drew on his cigarette.
“Mama said she would go up there for me. But that’s not right, is it?” Ona’s chin dropped to her chest, and she stared at her feet. “All the other girls—”
“Look at me,” Grandfather said. She lifted her gaze up to meet his and saw kindness there. “This is what we’re going to do, my dear. I’ll go up there with you.”
“Did you know my father when he was alive?” Ona asked.
Her grandfather was silent for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “I knew him.”
“What was my father like?”
Just then, a loud squealing rose from the park. Two men hunched over a silver cage on the ramp. They hurried to guide the cage down. On solid ground, the men unlatched the door and released the animal—a large spotted pig—into an enclosed pen surrounded by bales of hay they’d set up in the grass. The pig trotted in circles, still raising a frenzied racket.
“Something you should know, Ona.” Grandfather’s voice was a whisper. She leaned in closer, smelled the tobacco on his breath. He paused for a long moment, then said: “Your father isn’t dead. He’s alive, as alive as that pig shrieking down there.”
Ona frowned, shaking her head. “No he’s not. Mama said—”
“We can’t tell your mother,” Grandfather said. “You want him to come to your recital?”
Still frowning, Ona nodded vigorously.
“Then I’ll invite him. On your behalf.”
“Will he really be there?”
“You understand, he’ll have to hide himself. No one can know about him. I’ll be onstage with you, representing him. But you’ll know that he’s in the audience, watching you dance.”
“What about Mama? Why can’t we tell her?”
“Not a word,” Grandfather said. “Part of the deal.” He touched an index finger to his mouth. “Understood?”
Ona bit her bottom lip, unsure of what to say. Finally she nodded.
Grandfather lit up another cigarette. They watched the men in silence a few minutes more, then went back inside the apartment after he’d only smoked half of it.