Hello! My name is Patty and I’m twenty-two years old. My story... is actually a real confession for me and it's not because I'm religious. I’ll just speak very openly and very sincerely about my personal life…I am married to a wonderful guy, who I love a lot. But he really, really wants to have children, and I will never be able to have them. And there's somebody else who wanted me to give birth to a child even more than my husband wanted it. That's my husband’s parents. And I had every reason to believe that my beloved husband would leave me if they put enough pressure on him. Honestly, the situation with my marriage was very tense from the very beginning. My husband's name is Ben, and his last name is Zeng. Completely and correctly, his name should be pronounced as Zeng Ben - in Chinese, the last name has to be pronounced before the first name. I suppose that you have already guessed that Ben and his parents are Chinese. They are immigrants who live in the Chinatown of my hometown. Actually Ben was born in the United States, but his mother and father came here more than thirty years ago. They perfectly mastered the English language, but they absolutely rejected the idea of assimilation - Mr. and Mrs. Zeng try to maintain their native culture and lifestyle. They are a very traditional family, so you can assume that Ben's parents weren't delighted with their son's choice.
As for me, I can’t even guess where my roots are from. I have fair skin, light eyes, but dark thick hair. The last name I had before marriage had nothing to do with the real me. My mother, or, maybe I should say, the woman who gave birth to me, gave me away immediately after I was born, and I never saw her. However, I cannot call my childhood tragic or unhappy. As a baby, I was raised in a very good foster family. And a very large one. My foster parents did not adopt any of their children, but they took a lot of them, so during my life with them I had a huge number of brothers and sisters. I still stay on friendly terms with many of them, even now.
If something was missing in my foster family, it was only... the feeling of closeness between me and my parents. They took good care of me, but having so many foster children, they simply could not build that steady connection that a parent and child should have. This is partly why, when I became an adult and started a new family with Ben, I really hoped to build such a relationship with his parents. After all, a son’s bride is almost a daughter, right?Unfortunately, my expectations were very different from my reality.
I met Ben almost five years ago, and now we have been married for four years. He was my first boyfriend, and, to be honest, I was a little afraid of Ben at the very beginning of our relationship. It was probably because he is nine years older than me! But the traditional upbringing that his strict parents gave him showed in everything he did, including his manners - he even kissed me only after he got my permission. And it did not take long for him to ask me to be his wife, not just his girlfriend.
Of course I agreed to his proposal. And only when my status changed from “girlfriend” to “bride” did Ben decide to introduce me to his parents. Even though I invited Ben to have a dinner with my foster parents after our fifth date. But I still did not expect anything bad, and I was really excited about my first visit to Chinatown. It was so interesting! Before that I had only had a chance to walk on the main streets of Chinatown but I never went deep into the residential areas. I was also very much interested in Mr. and Mrs. Zeng’s work - they handmade and sold all sorts of cool things for Chinese-style interiors. I was very nervous before our meeting, but I already felt a great respect for Ben's parents, even before meeting them in person, so I thought that our first family dinner would go well and that I really had nothing to worry about.
But everything went wrong from the very beginning. When Mrs. Zeng opened the door and saw me on the threshold... It was like somebody had just wiped a welcoming smile from her face. When Mr. Zeng came up, the same thing happened to him. I tried to ease the situation and greeted them in Chinese: “Nihao!” But it only got worse - they apparently took it as a mockery, and silently let Ben and me into the house. I did not immediately understand why my fiancé's parents were so unfriendly - it didn’t even occur to me that they were able to dislike me, just because I was not Chinese! And it did not even occur to me that Ben kept my nationality a secret!
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