Chenxi and the Foreigner (8 page)

Anna heard Laurent saying, ‘Hey, let's go to a bar!' His voice came to her as if through cotton wadding.

She heard herself answer, ‘Sure.'

‘Do you have your bike?'

Anna thought for a while. ‘No.'

‘I take her on mine. It's in front of the consulate.'

They walked back down the street to the front gate. Anna waited at the corner, worried that her father might appear. She wasn't sure if she was in a state to speak to him. Would he even recognise her? She felt sure she looked different. What did she look like?

After an eternity, Chenxi and Laurent returned on their bikes. Anna wanted to scold them for taking so long, but she couldn't find the words. Her voice seemed to be smothered with the same cotton wool.

On the back of Chenxi's bike, the ground whizzed beneath her. Too fast. If Anna looked up, the sinking starless sky made her feel worse. She concentrated on staring at Chenxi's arm.

She rested her cheek lightly against Chenxi's back, then withdrew it, suddenly not sure if it was Chenxi or Laurent. She studied the arm again and tried to tell by the colour of the skin whose bike she was on, but the colour seemed to change with every streetlight. She wondered how much longer it would be until they arrived. When they did, it seemed as if she'd only got on the bike, and she couldn't remember where they'd said they were going. She wanted to lie down.

Chenxi smiled to himself when he saw the same square man in the black suit at the door of the bar. His stance was the same as the other night, his arms crossed tightly. It was as if he hadn't moved. If the man recognised him, he made no sign of it, as Chenxi walked straight through the front door, a foreigner on either side of him. So, in your own country the worst racists are your fellow men, he thought bitterly.

11

Lying in her bed, listening to early morning waltzers in the park, Anna couldn't remember how she had got home. She remembered sitting in the bar drinking rum and Coke and then turning around to see that Chenxi had gone.

Laurent had kept her glass filled until suddenly Anna had felt a wave of nausea. A prickling on the insides of her cheeks. Laurent must have noticed her go pale because he took her outside. She remembered him standing a little way off, smoking a cigarette, while she retched into the bushes under the twinkly fairy lights. She thought she remembered a taxi.

Her father's alarm went and Anna listened to the familiar shuffling of his morning ritual. Toilet. Shower. Shave. Breakfast. Teeth. She heard him tap on her bedroom door, and winced.

‘Darling, I'm just going in to the office for a while. I'll be back for lunch. Are you feeling better?…Anna?…That nice French student who dropped you home last night told me it must have been the noodles you ate. I did tell you not to eat in any local restaurants, didn't I? You have enough money to eat out properly, don't you?…Love?…I've left some more on the table just in case. If you're here when I get back for lunch we'll go out and get you a nice steak. I know a restaurant that imports them from Australia…Well, OK, love. I'll ring from work if I get the chance. Don't forget, the
aiyi
's coming today.'

Anna lay quietly until she heard him close the front door. She found if she stayed very still she didn't feel so sick. When the waltzers had packed up and gone home, and all she could hear was the distant traffic, she drifted back to sleep.

She woke to the sound of the shower running. She looked down at her watch, but it was only ten-fifteen. Could her father be home early? She lay and listened. That was the sound of her hairdryer being used, and of someone scrabbling around in the bathroom cabinet. She lay still.

Her bedroom door opened and Anna quickly shut her eyes. The
aiyi
, a towel wrapped around her, wearing Anna's lipstick, gasped and made a hasty retreat. Anna heard her dressing in the bathroom.

A little while later, she heard the vacuum start, and the clunking of vases being dusted. She rolled over and took her journal out of the bedside drawer. Groaning, she heaved herself into a sitting position and waited for her head to catch up. Was it possible the hashish had made her so sick?

Anna gazed out through the window at the grey sky. Thoughts gathered in her head like shifting storm clouds. She heard the
aiyi
leaving. From below came the noise of the traffic and the ringing of bicycle bells. In her room it was air-conditioned and clean.

April 9th, 1989

Chenxi met me at the consulate last night. Well, out the
front anyway, but he came, so I am sure he must be interested
in me. I met a French student, Laurent, good-looking
but arrogant, who gave us some hashish to smoke. He told
me he has a friend who travels regularly to Tibet to buy it,
then Laurent sells it around his university campus. Chenxi
knew what it was but he didn't smoke any. It made me
sick.

By the time her father arrived home Anna was feeling better. Not quite well enough, however, to accept her father's offer of an Australian steak. Mr White shrugged and made himself a cheese sandwich from a block of imported cheddar he fished out of the freezer and thawed in the microwave. Standing over the sink, his mouth crammed, he called to Anna, ‘How about getting outside for a while, love? It might make you feel better to get some fresh air.'

‘Fresh air?' Anna joked from her bedroom. The air in Shanghai was so fresh she could pick it in big black chunks out of her nose.

‘Well, not literally speaking, I suppose. How about exercise then? We could catch a taxi and have a walk around the antique market. You haven't seen it yet, have you? It might be a good chance for you to pick up some souvenirs to take home.'

‘How about riding our bikes, if you really want some exercise?'

‘Oh, it's too much hassle to get them out of the shed, love. Besides I think mine has a puncture.'

Anna heard him slap the crumbs off his hands and then step into the lounge room. ‘It only costs one yuan to get a puncture fixed, Dad. That's twenty-five cents.'

‘Really?' Mr White mumbled, mostly to himself. ‘They always charge me ten yuan!'

Anna emerged from her bedroom, buttoning her shirt and grinning. She poked her father in the ribs. ‘That's because you're a foreigner, Dad!'

‘A
Wai guo ren
,' Mr White chuckled, emphasising his Australian accent.

‘A long nose.'

‘A foreign ghost.'

‘A cheese-smelling, F.E.C-spending, foreign devil!'

‘That's going too far!' Mr White laughed. ‘Come on, let's go out and spend some of this filthy F.E.C. that the Chinese seem to want so much!' He linked his arm in Anna's.

‘Hey, Dad? I've written some postcards home. Can we stop on the way to send them?'

‘Just leave them on the chair by the door for the
aiyi
,' Mr White said. ‘She'll do it. I have to warn you though, the postal service is unreliable. You might get home before your cards do. We can give your mother a call tonight, if you like. If you want to speak to your sisters.'

‘Nah, it's fine,' Anna said. ‘I've only been away a few days. They'll be fine. Maybe next week.'

Mr White squeezed his daughter's shoulder in a sudden burst of affection.

On a worn straw mat, a peasant girl laid out her meagre wares. She had travelled for two days to reach Shanghai, leaving her elderly grandmother in the care of her neighbour. She would not make much money that day but, since her mother had died and her grandmother was ill, any extra money would help towards the doctor's fees.

She unwrapped the last item, hesitating before she placed it among the other objects on the mat. It was a silver snuffbox inlaid with precious stones, dating from the Ching Dynasty and handed down from mother to eldest daughter over many generations. Today would be the day it left the family, the peasant girl thought wistfully. She thanked the spirits her grandmother was blind and wouldn't notice its absence.

Her neighbour, who had been to Shanghai before, told the girl the snuffbox was worth a lot of money. She should ask for two hundred yuan and accept nothing less than a hundred. One hundred yuan! That was more money than she earned in two months!

Crowds shuffled past. Occasionally they turned the peasant girl's items over and one of them even picked up the snuffbox and asked its price. When she told the man he snorted and walked off.

As the morning slipped by, the girl began to worry. What if she didn't make enough to cover her train fare? Could she dare return home without a coin? She crouched on her haunches, squinting up at the bustling people.

Eventually, a young foreign woman, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, paused at the girl's mat. She glanced over the objects while the peasant girl gazed up at her, dazzled by the foreigner's white skin and blue eyes. Before Anna had the chance to slide back into the crowd, the young girl snatched up the bejewelled snuffbox and thrust it into her hand.

Anna smiled and placed the tiny box back on the mat. ‘No thanks,' she said.

Her eyes wild, the peasant girl shook her head and pushed the box back into Anna's hand and held two fingers up at her face.

‘Two yuan?' Anna guessed without a clue. ‘
Liang
kuai
?'

The girl shook her hands frantically and scribbled two, zero, zero on a scrap of paper. She held it up for Anna to see. Anna was examining the pretty box.

‘Oh, two hundred,' Anna said. ‘
Liang bai?'

The peasant girl nodded.

‘No thanks,' Anna said and made to walk off.

It was nearly the end of the day and the peasant girl hadn't sold a thing. At home her grandmother lay waiting in the darkness of their hut. The girl stepped forward in a panic and grabbed at the foreign girl's sleeve before she disappeared into the crowd. This was her last chance.

Anna spun around.

‘
Yi bai wu shi kuai! Yi bai wu shi!
' the peasant girl cried.

‘No, really,' Anna said. ‘Even for a hundred and fifty, I don't want it.'

Anna's father pushed through the small crowd that had gathered. ‘What's going on?' he said.

‘She wants me to buy her box.' Anna was agitated now. The peasant girl thrust the box at Mr White. He inspected it, frowning.

‘Hmm…' he said. ‘It looks quite valuable.'

‘Ching Dynasty,' a spectator confirmed.

‘But I don't want it!' Anna insisted.

‘
Yi bai! Yi bai kuai!
' the peasant girl cried.

‘Mmm. One hundred yuan she's asking for it,' said Mr White. ‘But you should always bargain them down to half price. As you know they think we are full of money and they'll always try to cheat us.

‘Fifty!' he said loudly to the peasant girl. ‘
Wu shi
yuan!'

The peasant girl was horrified. She shook her head savagely and grabbed the box. Mr White shrugged and turned his back to her. The crowd chuckled.

‘She'll come after us,' he whispered.

Sure enough, just as they began to walk away, the peasant girl took hold of Anna's arm again, and stared at her with pleading eyes. ‘
Ba shi
,' she said. ‘
Ba shi! Ba shi!
' She took both of Anna's hands in her own, the precious box sealed between them.

‘No!' Mr White looked fierce and shook his head. ‘Not eighty! Fifty!'

‘Dad! I don't want it!'

Mr White tried to pull his daughter from the peasant girl's grasp. The crowd pressed in around the spectacle.

‘
Wu shi!
' the peasant girl wailed, holding tight. ‘
Wu shi!
Wu shi! Wu shi!
'

‘Dad!'

Mr White peeled off crisp notes from the stack in his wallet. Two twenties and a ten. He thrust the bright money into the dark hand and snatched the silver box.

The peasant girl looked down at the unfamiliar notes in her trembling hands. When she lifted her head, the foreigners had gone and the little crowd had dispersed. She shuffled back to her mat to find that a jade pendant had been stolen.

In the rear seat of the air-conditioned taxi, Anna was miserable. She looked down at the little silver box. When she opened the lid a faint musty smell came out, and on the base, in a shaky hand, a Chinese character had been carved.

‘That was a good find, Anna,' her father said, satisfied, from the front seat. ‘That box would be worth at least five hundred yuan in an antique store!'

Anna sighed, and knew why she didn't feel elated. She saw herself in Chenxi's eyes: the privileged foreigner with an endless supply of F.E.C. and wondered if his ambivalence towards her was more about what she stood for rather than who she was. She would prove to him that she was different from other foreigners. She was not a rich and greedy capitalist like the other expatriates here seemed to be—she was an artist. Like him. She would show him that they had more in common than their differences.

12

On Monday, Anna arrived at the college to find it deserted. Annoyed at not being informed of whatever public holiday it was, she was about to leave when she saw the director's secretary walking from the canteen to the main college building. Anna rode up behind her. The secretary turned but, when she saw who it was, her face clouded with a look of irritation.

‘Miss Anna!'

‘Where is everyone?'

‘No school,' the secretary snapped. ‘How you say?... Study from nature. All students travelling for two weeks, leaving tomorrow. What you want to do? You want me organise you private teacher teach you at home?'

‘Well, I'd like to have gone with my class!' Anna grumbled. ‘After all, I am a student here, too, aren't I?'

The secretary took a deep breath. ‘Come with me.'

Anna chained her bike to the empty rack and followed her to the director's office.

The director was even less pleased to see his foreign student. Anna could imagine him wondering if the special high fees her father was paying were worth the trouble she was causing.