Calls Across the Pacific (17 page)

Half an hour later, the train stopped again at a large station. Nina followed other passengers to get off the car. From one of the food stands, she bought a glass bottle of mineral water and a packet of cookies. She also found a sink with running water to wash her face and brush her teeth.

In Hunan Province, more peddlers boarded the train to sell eggs, cigarettes, peanuts, and sausages. Some even hawked live chickens. As the train ambled to the next station, the vendors paced the aisles up and down, trying to sell as much as they could. At the next station, the vendors would detrain.

Once the train stopped, many teenaged girls and boys appeared under the windows with fruit, steamed buns, bottled water, or juice in their baskets. They raised their goods up to the passengers. Without getting off the train, buyers purchased food and drink through open windows though both seller and buyer had to work hard to stretch their arms across to each other. There was more than enough food for travellers to choose from different station platforms. Nina bought her meals through the window, too. The boxed food served on the train no longer attracted anyone.

Nina contemplated what Mao would have done if he had been alive and known about the peddling business taking place in his birth province of Hunan. His policies had forbidden private enterprise.

She also wondered whether she would interrogated or arrested if it was discovered that she was from North America. She was comforted by the thought that people seemed more attentive to business than to the revolution.
They are all jumping at the chance to live a better life.
And that put a smile on her tired face.

17.
AT DAWN

N
INA DISEMBARKED AT
the Guangzhou Railway Station on Friday at noon and boarded a bus to Yuexiu Street. But ten minutes into the ride, the bus came to a sudden stop at the corner of Yuexiu Street North. The driver turned his head to the passengers and announced: “A parade is ahead of us on the road. This is as far as we can go for the time being.” Nina followed the other passengers and got off the bus, their collective feet scuffling along the street. A crowd of people from the parade turned onto a side street. Some of them held up framed portraits of Mao dressed all in black, while others lifted portraits of a middle-aged man in an army uniform. A red banner lifted high among the heads in the crowd had the slogan: “Support Chairman Hua Guofeng!” on it. She realized the day was October 1, China's National Day. Three weeks had passed since Nina had first arrived back in China.

It was a short parade with demonstrators calling out a few catch phrases: “Chairman Mao lives with us forever!”, “Follow Chairman Hua!” and “Carry on Hua's Revolutionary line!” Eventually the demonstrators merged with the onlookers, the posters held high over their shoulders, and the crowd started to thin as people made their way home.

Nina reached her mother's dwelling and bounded up the stairs. She couldn't wait to see her mother again, and she knocked lightly and rapidly on the door, hoping her mother was home. She was. When she opened the door, her face was shiny, and welcoming. As Nina entered, her mother nodded to a pleasant-looking man, who seemed to be in his fifties, seated gingerly at the kitchen table. “This is Dr. Tang from my hospital.”

“How do you do?” Nina greeted him.

The man's handshake was firm. “I dropped by for a brief visit with your mother,” he said gently. His voice was soft and his eyes, almost black they were so dark, and kind. Then he smiled at Nina's mother and turning to leave, he said, “Nina needs a rest after her long trip. I will see you again soon.”

Her mother saw him to the door. When she turned around, she blushed at Nina's smiling eyes.

“You've made a great choice,” said Nina.

“This is his first visit,” Nina's mother said, her cheeks still pink. “We're just friends, nothing else.”

“Mother, it is wonderful that you are seeing someone after all these years,” Nina said with enthusiasm. “Is he available?”

She sighed. “His wife died last year from illness. His two dispatched kids just came back from the countryside. They're still looking for jobs,” her mother said, going into the kitchen to throw together a meal.

“Is he interested in you?” asked Nina, who enjoyed playing at the role of mother.

“Yes, but if he married me, it would be harder for his children to find jobs.”

“Do you mean because of my father's suicide?” Nina asked.

“Yes, for that reason, as well as for others. Your father has stains on his record. As you know, he graduated from West Point and he was an officer with the Nationalist Army. Such stains affect all his relatives.” Nina's mother took a breath, and her hand reached out to hold Nina's. “Never think about coming back to China permanently. If you lived here, I'm sure you would never have a normal life.”

Nina's mother turned toward the stove and began to prepare a soup for the two of them to share. While she was chopping vegetables and tossing them into a broth that had already started to simmer, she continued. “After you were sent to Yunnan, because I was considered a traitor's wife, I was forced to work in a factory where I glued paper matchboxes for years. I don't know if that information ever reached you. It was a difficult time.”

“I'm sorry I was not here to share these hardships with you all those years,” Nina said. “But things are changing now in China. I noticed differences during my trip.”

“What's changed?” asked her mother, tossing some noodles into the bubbling pot.

Nina placed two bowls on the table, and described what she had seen. “People are starting to think and awaken,” she said.

Nina's mother raised her eyebrows as she carried the soup to the table and carefully ladled the noodles and broth into the bowls. “You should be careful during your stay. I've gone through too much trouble, and I don't want anything more to happen to you.” So many images overlapped in her mind: Red Guards burning books found in her home; her husband's bloody head hitting the ground; being pushed to kneel down for her denunciation; and, the nightmares over her daughter's disappearance.

“I will be careful, Mother,” Nina said. “Now let's get back to Dr. Tang? Do you like him?” she teased.

Her mother shook off the haunting memories and nodded. “I do.”

“So, you should consider marrying him as soon as his kids find jobs,” said Nina, her hand holding her mother's.

“Yes, my little mother,” her mother chuckled, thinking about what Nina had told her the relationship between her and Roger. “Now I have a question. What about you and Roger? Will you marry?”

“I'm not sure. It depends on many factors.”

“But you've been living with him,” her mother added, hesitating a little; she did not intend to cause a dispute.

“I know what you are thinking. And maybe I shouldn't have told you about him. I know that according to Chinese tradition, a premarital relationship is considered sinful. But I don't need to follow Chinese ways anymore. I live in a free country now.” She did her best to explain. “I like the fact that in America we are given free choices. By living together, Roger and I can discover and learn if we are suited to each other.”

“It will take me some time to understand it,” Nina's mother said in a gentle tone. “How is Roger? Can he speak a little bit of Chinese?”

“Maybe he can say two phrases: ‘how do you do' and ‘goodbye.'”

“I will only be able to speak a few words in English, too, if I ever meet him,” he mother said with a grin. “All right. Let's promise each other. We'll each take care of our own personal relationships, but we will tell each other about them as well.” They smiled at each other companionably and finished the rest of their soup in silence.

Nina then cleared the table and started washing the dishes in the sink. Her mother tugged her arm, and pulled her from the sink. “Let me do it. You should rest.”

“I'm not tired,” Nina said, though she was not able to stifle a yawn.

That night, she fell into such a deep sleep that her exhaustion from the emotional and physical stress of the past few days melted away.

On Sunday, Nina took her mother to the Friendship Store — a store for foreigners to buy certain goods that were unavailable in any other stores. She wanted to buy a television.

The red double door was open, but compared to other stores along that street, there were fewer customers coming and going.
Good. We don't need to lineup here,
Nina thought, quickening her steps.

A middle-aged doorman, with a dour look on his face, stood on the flagstone steps leading into the store. When he noticed Nina heading into the store, her mother behind her, the man asked brusquely, “Where are you going?”

“To the store,” answered Nina, wondering why he asked the question. “We want to have a look around.”

“Not just anybody can browse in this store. Do you have money? I mean, do you have U.S. dollars?” the doorkeeper smirked.

“Yes, I do,” she answered, and from her wallet, she drew out a ten-dollar banknote.

“Do you have an American passport?” asked the man. “I bet you don't.” He was suddenly gleeful.

Before Nina could say anything, her mother pulled her back. “Let's go somewhere else.”

“I'll come back another time,” Nina tossed back at him crossly. She did not have her passport with her or she would have stomped angrily by him. Just then, a couple of Westerners stepped past the doorkeeper, but he did not ask them a single question. He smiled and greet them politely, “Welcome.”

The following day, after her mother left for the hospital, Nina went back to the Friendship Store, this time with her passport. When the same doorman examined her document, his face displayed a disgust that looked familiar. Nina knew that behind these eyes was the unspoken thought: “An American running dog!” She shivered a little, knowing that with a label like that upon her, any perceived misbehaviour could see her put behind bars.

Nina bought a twelve-inch colour
TV
for her mother, who had never even owned a black-and-white one.

When her mother saw the gift, she gasped and wrapped her arms around Nina in a warm embrace. “You shouldn't have wasted your money on me,” she said, wiping her tears. “Just seeing you again is enough.”

“You need some entertainment even though many of the programs you have here may be boring political stuff,” said Nina. She picked up the remote control and showed her mother how to use it. “Live well and enjoy life as much as you can. You deserve to.”

The next afternoon, Nina arrived at an address that Rei had given to her. She found a three-storey building labelled Number 4, entered Unit 1, and then knocked on the door of Apartment 101. A girl her age opened it and gaped at Nina with astonishment. “Oh! Is it you, Nina?” she asked, her face pale, and her voice quivering.

“Liya!” Nina held out her arms, and Liya pulled her in. They were thrilled to see each other.

“It was rumoured that you were shot dead when you sneaked across the border to Vietnam. I've cried for you many times.” Liya's voice trembled. “Where have you been all these years?”

Nina told her the true story and before the two former high-school mates knew it, the clock on the wall struck five. “I'm supposed to cook supper for my parents now.” Liya went into the kitchen and started to boil some rice and wash a bowl of soybean sprouts. Nina helped to slice the eggplant. “Have supper with us,” Liya said, “but don't tell my folks you came from outside of China. They're timid as mice.”

“How about it if I take you out to dinner instead?” Nina suggested. “Then we can continue talking while we eat.”

Nodding, Liya answered, “Yes, that sounds great. My night shift doesn't start until ten o'clock, so we'll have lots of time to catch up some more.” After supper was prepared, Liya left a note on the table for her parents, and the two girls went out and found a quiet restaurant.

They ordered chicken congee and fried buns and picked up where they left off. Their memories harkened back nine years when they were both eighteen. Liya had been able to choose a re-education location closer to home since her parents were middle-school teachers without any so-called political problems. So, in 1968, she had moved to Hainan Province. Seven years later, like most of her counterparts, she returned to the city, and found a job in a small factory that produced pots and pans, where she still worked today. Recalling her years in the country, Liya shivered. Many times she had been bitten by black flies and wasps and suffered their poison for several days without receiving any treatment. Frequently, she had to work in the rice paddies hour after hour. Even when the blood from her monthly period trickled down her legs and stained her pants, she did not have the time or a place to change the pad.

Liya told her about an incident that had occurred the previous October. More than 100,000 sent-down youths had gathered on Baiyun Mountain in the suburbs to share their experiences and make complaints about the government. Some people had even sold maps containing a secret route to Hong Kong to those who planned on escaping. The Provincial Public Security Department had dispatched a large number of policemen to disperse the crowds but failed to find out who had organized the rally. “I was there, too. Because that was the Double Ninth Festival for mountain climbing, so all of us said we were climbing Baiyun Mountain to celebrate the festival,” Liya added.

Then she smiled shyly and told Nina that part of the reason she had gone to the rally was to try and meet up with a former co-worker that she had found attractive. She had debated whether to talk to him during the rally, and maybe get to know him a little. But when the police had arrived, he had run away with some of the other young men, and she had never found out what had happened to him.

Nina told Liya that at Number Five Military Farm they had not been permitted to have relationships with other workers. “Were young people allowed to have a boyfriend or girlfriend where you were?” she asked.

“At that time, nobody was allowed to make friends with people of the opposite gender. I generally followed this rule,” Liya said. “And the only time I considered breaking it … well, you know what happened. Maybe this is why I don't have a boyfriend even now.” They finished the hot congee and paused to sip some tea. With a tissue, Liya cleaned the lenses of her glasses that had misted with the tea. “You know, I work with a bunch of older people. I don't get many chances to meet men my age. At work, ‘Spinster' is my nickname.” Liya grinned. “At first, I cried because I was ashamed of this nickname. But now, guess what? I don't care anymore.”

Slowly and calmly, Liya told Nina her story as if it were the story of some other person. “Reading a lot of banned literary works in my spare time has become my great pleasure. Maybe books are better than a boyfriend. As long as I have books to read, I'm happy,” she said. “Sometimes, I think we were born in the wrong place at the wrong time. But at least you were able to leave China. Tell me about your American boyfriend.”