A Hundred Flowers (14 page)

“Ah yes, my family is very important to me,” Cheng said, agreeing. “Your husband should have thought more about his family before he wrote that letter. Now, please, Mrs. Lee, I really don’t have the time.” He stood up abruptly to let her know their meeting was over.

Kai Ying stood and felt his gaze move across her body, which sent a chill through her. At the risk of angering him, she persisted, “Whether my husband was right or wrong, wouldn’t you do as much as you could for your own family?”

Cheng paused for a moment and looked her up and down. “Your husband is a lucky man to have a wife so devoted to him. Of course, I too am a family man, and I hate to think of your son upset. You must be very lonely with your husband gone; perhaps we can find a way to make this situation work, while helping each other at the same time?”

It took a moment for Kai Ying to understand what he was saying, his eyes locked onto hers. She felt sick to her stomach and wanted nothing more than to run out of the hot, suffocating room. Instead, Kai Ying steadied herself and ignored his question. She held out a red envelope, which contained a hundred yuan she had saved. She knew it was the way things were done, and hoped it would be enough for this vile man. “Please, if you should find out anything…” she said.

His gaze shifted from her tunic front to the red envelope and he licked his lips. “Of course, of course,” he said. “Just remember, my offer to help is always open.” He reached across the desk and took the envelope from her hand.

Song

When the baby had begun to cry, Song had picked her up and she had fallen asleep again. Now she sat in the chair by the bassinet, afraid that if she put her down, the baby would start crying. Song hadn’t held a baby since Tao was born. The soft bundle in her arms felt new to her, warm and alive. She smiled to think she’d grown winter melons that were heavier than this baby was. She sat in the darkened room while the girl slept and slept, having promised Kai Ying she would watch the baby while she was out visiting a patient.

There was a time when Song had longed for a moment such as this. Her marriage to Old Hing was another lifetime ago, and much of her anger had faded. Still, once in a while that bitter taste rose up to her mouth. It did again now as she held the baby. Almost fifty years later, she still remembered the searing pain in her abdomen where Old Hing had punched her. She should have known better than to provoke him, though it never took much to stir up his rage: a wayward look or the tone of her voice. He was like a piece of cinder; Song never knew when he would flare up. Her pregnancy had lulled her into a false sense of security. She began to hope and plan. Old Hing had left her alone the first half of her pregnancy, so she’d made the mistake of becoming complacent, thinking he wouldn’t hit her while she was carrying his child. Even now, Song wondered if she might have done something differently. She should have turned and run when he came after her, rather than raise her arms to shield her face. She should have protected her baby more or fought back harder. She accepted her responsibility, too. But Old Hing only became more infuriated and hit her harder. Song miscarried in her sixth month. Her dead baby was a little girl. For years after, Song consoled herself knowing that at least her child would never have to know Old Hing as her father.

*   *   *

“Who are you?”

The girl’s voice startled Song. She looked across the room at the girl lying in the bed watching her. Usually the girl slept while Song watched the baby.

“My name’s Song,” she answered. “I live here with Kai Ying, the woman who delivered your baby, and her family.”

“I’m Suyin.”

Song smiled. “You told us your name, just before you had the baby.”

“My baby?”

“Right here.” Song stood up and brought the baby over to the girl.

“I don’t remember if it’s a girl or a boy.”

“A little girl,” Song said, placing the baby into Suyin’s arms. There was a sour odor coming from the girl and her hair was oily and pressed down on one side of her head from sleep.

Suyin held the baby awkwardly in her arms and stared down at her. Almost immediately the baby woke up and began to cry. The girl shifted positions, trying to comfort the baby, but it didn’t seem to matter. Her crying grew more frantic and so did Suyin’s rocking movements. “Take her, take her back,” she implored.

The girl had so much to learn about becoming a mother, Song thought, as she leaned over and reached for the baby.

Tao

Everything had changed at school, different from the first moment Tao limped into the dimly lit, chalky-aired classroom to find his seat one row over and several chairs behind Little Shan and Ling Ling. He had expected to sit right behind his friend, or at most, one or two seats behind him. The fact that so many other students had also surpassed him came as a surprise. Teacher Eng’s voice droned on and on and Tao had a hard time concentrating. By the end of the first day, his leg felt weak and sore from trying to keep up, and when he saw his grandfather standing at the gate waiting for him, he took a deep breath and tried to smile.

“How was your first day back?” his
ye ye
asked.

“It was all right.”

“How’s your leg feeling?”

“A little tired.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. The sky was clear, the sun shining.

His grandfather took his book bag from him. “It’s going to take a little while, but everything will become normal again.”

Tao remained quiet.

“Don’t you think so?” his grandfather asked.

Tao knew it was rude not to answer his
ye ye
a second time, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything for fear he might start crying. He wasn’t a baby. But he knew now that nothing would ever be the same, not since his
ba ba
was taken away. Instead, he looked up at his grandfather and nodded before he reached over and took his hand.

*   *   *

Tao was welcomed home by his mother and Auntie Song with his favorite coconut tarts. They asked him question after question he didn’t feel like answering, but did, so they wouldn’t see how unhappy he was. Each day was harder than the one before, and by the end of the following week, Tao didn’t care if he ever returned to school again. Little Shan had found new friends while he was gone, and as much as he tried to fit in, he couldn’t understand why Little Shan would like the same obnoxious boys who used to pick on them for being “scared little girls” and the “teacher’s pets.” It seemed everything about his friend had changed, not just his appearance. Now that Tao was back, he could only hope Little Shan would see what a mistake he was making and return to the way things were.

*   *   *

Each morning Tao struggled down the stairs, his leg still stiff. He leaned up against the banister for support, hoping his mother would tell him to stay at home and take a day off to rest his leg. But she never did. Instead, she seemed to care more about the strange girl and her baby. He’d hardly seen the girl in the weeks she’d been there. She didn’t come downstairs in the morning until after he’d left for school, and spent most of the evenings in Great-Auntie Shu’s room. The first time he did meet Suyin, he thought she looked just like any young schoolgirl and couldn’t imagine her having a baby. She was pale and thin, as if she hadn’t eaten in a very long time. Her skin was bumpy and her eyes looked cloudy, although she greeted him pleasantly enough when they were introduced. Still, he looked hard for any small thing about her that he could immediately dislike.

For one thing, Suyin was selfish, whether she knew it or not; she took up so much of his mother’s time. Every morning his
ma ma
was coming or going to the market or herb shop for something to make the girl a tea or soup. This morning when he came downstairs, she was in the kitchen rinsing pigs’ feet, she said, to add to the black vinegar and ginger soup. Women were supposed to drink it for two weeks after they’d given birth. “It has plenty of nutrients she needs now,” his mother added. He watched her drop all the ingredients into a pot, a sour, tangy smell rising with the steam. When he didn’t say anything, his mother finally looked up.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Tao looked up at her, and before he could say anything, he felt all the tears he’d been holding back rise to the surface and flow freely down his cheeks.

“What is it, what’s the matter? Is it your leg?”

He wanted to tell his mother that he hated school, he hated the girl living in their house, he hated walking with a limp, but it was one of his classmates, Lai Hing, he hated most of all. They’d never gotten along, but had always chosen to stay out of each other’s way. But now Little Shan followed him around like a starving dog, and there was nothing he could do. The day after Tao returned to school, Lai Hing had yelled, “Are you crippled for life?” across the classroom for all his classmates to hear. Tao felt his face grow hot and it took him too long to answer. By the time he did say something, it was lost in the laughter and voices of his classmates.

And then yesterday, while they were in the yard, Lai Hing had asked, “Where’s your father?”

“He’s away working,” Tao answered.

“My father said he was sent away because he’s a traitor and not a true comrade of the Party.”

Lai Hing wasn’t much taller than he was, but he was big-boned and stocky. He reminded Tao of a little bull.

Tao stepped forward, his anger rising to the surface. “What does your father know?”

“He knows plenty, that’s what. My father works at the public security bureau’s administrative offices, and he says your
ba ba
was sent really far away to a work camp for traitors who speak against the Party.”

“You’re a liar!” Tao yelled.

He could feel the blood rushing to his head. In the distance he could see Teacher Eng at the other side of the yard. Without thinking, he balled his fist and swung at Lai, missing by a foot.
Never let your anger rule your actions,
his grandfather had once told him. He didn’t quite understand him then, but he did now. Lai pushed him hard and Tao fell backward, his tailbone hitting the pavement first. He felt a sharp pain shoot all the way up his back. Instead of defending his
ba ba,
he had only let him down.

When Tao tried to get up, he felt a twinge of pain in his leg. He heard Lai Hing and his friends laughing at him.
Take a breath. Be calm,
he thought to himself.
There’s no hurry.
Tao slowly stood up, straightened, and waited a moment until he swung again, this time hitting Lai Hing hard and squarely in the stomach. The boy doubled over. The laughing had stopped, and in the next moment, Tao was shoved away by one of the other boys, who threatened to hit him.
Hit me! Break my leg again,
Tao thought,
both of them if you like!
This time he wouldn’t mind staying home forever.

Instead, Little Shan stepped in between them and steered Tao away from the others. For the moment it felt as if his old friend had returned to him.

“What are you doing?” Little Shan asked. “Lai Hing will knock you out with one punch.”

“He’s a liar,” Tao repeated. “I don’t like him.”

Little Shan took a step back and stood easily a few inches taller than Tao. He paused a moment before he said, “Well, I do.”

*   *   *

The memory made Tao cry harder now. Little Shan could do whatever he wanted, he didn’t care. The bruise on his tailbone would go away. Through his tears he saw his mother coming toward him and he quickly stepped just out of her reach; he was still angry at her for ignoring him. What he really wanted to know lay hard and bitter on the tip of his tongue. The tart smell of the soup made him feel queasy. He took a breath and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Tell me…” He choked down another sob. “Tell me why the police came and took
ba ba
away.”

Wei

Even before Wei entered the kitchen, he felt an edge of panic rise in him. Tao was distraught. The boy was crying, pulling away from Kai Ying and refusing to go to school.

“What is it?” he asked. “Tao?” Looking at his grandson, he saw misery. The vinegary scent of Kai Ying’s boiling soup hung heavily in the air.

Tao was crying so hard he hadn’t heard him. Kai Ying held on to him, looking tired and pale. She’d lost even more weight in the past month.

“He wants to know why his
ba ba
went away,” Kai Ying said. “Something happened at school…” she started to say, but the words caught in her throat and she didn’t finish the sentence.

Wei wished he could start the day all over again. The irony was that he had awoken that morning feeling better than he had in a long time. It was a beautiful day, clear and bright, a rare morning in which the heaviness in his heart and mind felt lighter. Wei knew the truth was always there waiting to show itself, he just hadn’t expected it to surface this morning. He should have known better.

Wei felt as if he couldn’t breathe in the hot, steamy kitchen. The door facing the courtyard was open, and every so often, a cool breeze blew in a whisper of relief. He swallowed his fear and steadied himself against the table, then reached out and touched his daughter-in-law’s arm so that she stepped aside.

“What’s the matter?” Wei asked. His voice was surprisingly calm. He seated his grandson at the table and sat down next to him. Tao looked at him and tried to stop crying, his hiccupping breaths calming.

“I don’t want to go school,” Tao answered.

“Just last week you couldn’t wait to return to school.”

“It’s different now.”

“What about Little Shan?”

“I hate Little Shan.”

“Best friends are hard to come by.”

“He isn’t my best friend.”

“Then what’s this about your
ba ba
?”

Wei knew he would never be able to turn back now. He wondered if Sheng would ever forgive him for what he’d done to his family.

“There’s a boy in my class who said
ba ba
was a traitor, and that’s why he was sent away.”