impatiently. Her darting eyes finally fixated on the green fibrous vegetables hanging to her left. She nodded, “we should plant some si gua in our backyard too. I remember in Suzhou my mother used to make it stirfried.” She nudged Mr. Lee, who was clearly uncomfortable enough in their current environment to not pay attention to her. “We don’t have a trellis,” Mr. Lee grumbled. “We could get one,” said Mrs. Lee. “We don’t even eat si gua,” the daughter protested. “Just look at that ripe, long si gua— if someone doesn’t pick them soon, they’ll go bad,” the mother interrupted. “No one in our neighborhood has a trellis for that matter, and obviously no si gua either,” the father continued. Just as Mrs. Lee was about to add that they could plant the si gua to the side of the roses, they were called in. The mother and daughter entered while the father waited outside. The hairdresser greeted the pair with a curt nod of his head. He was a man of perhaps forty with sun-speckled skin and stern demeanor. He wore a grey shirt with rolled sleeves and faded red han characters and a pair of blue denim jeans. The garage was populated by a practice hair mannequin set on a folding table next to a Walmart shelf of various hair dyes and sprays. To the right was a black faux leather barber’s chair in front of a cheap vanity setup. Mrs. Lee asked in mandarin, <> <> the hairdresser replied. <> the mother said, holding up the box of Clorox wipes. The hairdresser grunted in acknowledgment and moved toward the vanity. The daughter sat down in the barber chair. Mrs. Lee could see a yellow note stuck on the mirror displaying an old sticky note with han characters: 15 for men, 22 for women, cash only. Her daughter only stared blankly at it though, as she couldn’t read Chinese. The hairdresser tied a black salon cape with the texture of a garbage bag around the girl’s neck. He hovered behind her and surveyed her hair closely. He picked up a plastic spray bottle and began to mist the girl’s hair, using the plastic comb to sufficiently distribute the liquid. << Is the house in front of this salon yours?>> Mrs. Lee offered. << No. I live upstairs.>> 114