HONG KONG: April-May, 2004 (Part 20)

I ended up waiting seven years to introduce William to my mother.

We visited my hometown of Vancouver and attended a family gathering at a restaurant. My mother chatted to my brother and his wife and their teenage son. My dad, now divorced from my mother and sinking into Alzheimer's, was also there. He was hunched over the table and focused on his food.

I asked my mother about her recent travels. Over the previous ten years my mom had started dating another man and taken to sightseeing the world. I was relieved she had found a life in which she could blossom. She answered my questions about her impressions of autumn in the Maritimes and the coastal views of Spain.

And the conversation sputtered to an end.

My mother sat across the table from William and me. She asked a single question of my husband: How do you like Vancouver?

I like it a lot, he answered. It's scenic, it's diverse and you have a great minor-league baseball field.

The only other comment she made to us that evening was: Good night.

Perhaps now that her suspicions on the question of height had been confirmed, there was little else she needed. Perhaps she was angry it had taken seven years for me to include her in this part of my life. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

When we tucked into bed that night, William held me tight.

What? What is it?

I get it now, Mel. Everything you've told me about her makes sense.

Thank you. Thank you for saying that.

As we lay in the guest room that night, I knew the primary reason for us not wanting children was because of what we missed in our childhoods. William grew up in a home of high expectations and low risks. He wasn't allowed to play baseball or ride a bike to school because his parents feared he would get hurt.

I grew up in a home steeped in anger between my parents. I was expected to side with my mother, listen to her grievances and relive her painful life.

William was expected to achieve greatness and I was taught greatness was beyond my reach.

I took William's hand in the dark. Finally I had a partner, someone on my side.

Marriage.