Madwoman On the Bridge and Other Stories (5 page)

They had been talking very loudly, annoying Xue
sitting over by the counter. ‘Look, please keep it down. I
can’t hear a thing. Ms Fang is writing a suicide note. She
wants to kill herself!’

The proprietress looked over to where Xue was sitting,
and craned her neck a little to see the screen. Obviously
she too was preoccupied with the series. ‘I thought she
was going to die in yesterday’s episode – so they dragged
the suicide note out until today.’ The proprietress said to
the driver, seemingly in apology, ‘It’s a really good show.
I watch it every day.’ Then she lowered her voice and
whispered in his ear, ‘In a minute I’ll set Xue to work on
your back, and then you can get nice and relaxed. Xue’s
not bad-looking is she?’

The driver hesitated for a second and said, ‘She wants
to watch the programme. Let her watch. I’ll go into the
back rooms and have a snooze.’

‘Now how could we just let you snooze?’ The
proprietress gave the driver a knowing nudge. ‘Never you
mind. When you’re as tired as that, you should get some
proper relaxation. I’ll tell her what to do for you.’

The driver looked at the girl in front of the TV and
then glanced out of the window. The rain had stopped
briefly, but now it was back. There were no vehicles on
the highway and with the rain falling it looked peaceful,
like a black river, with little glittering lights. A chicken
or duck belonging to the restaurant had ventured on to
the highway and was taking a leisurely walk. The driver
looked out at the sparsely planted mahogany and pagoda
trees lining the road – they were only about half the height
of a man – and he reckoned they had just been planted
when he last called here about a year ago. He suddenly
recalled that the place was called Weeping Willow. How
come there wasn’t a single weeping willow to be seen?

‘Why is this place called Weeping Willow?’ he
mumbled, but the proprietress didn’t hear. She’d already
resumed her place in front of the TV and was staring at
the flickering screen while spitting out sunflower seed
shells. The girl called Xue was now sitting on the counter.
Apart from her black silk stockings and the little pearls
embroidered on them, the driver could see only the
side of her face and her back; her rounded breasts were
carefully concealed by her sleeveless top, like corn in its
husk. She had put her hands underneath her legs and
was sitting on them, and it seemed to him that he had
seen this posture before – surely the Xue he remembered
had sat like that? Maybe she was the same girl he had
met last time after all. Or maybe he was mistaken; after
working as a long-distance driver for so many years, the
girls he knew from roadside inns were beyond counting.
What perplexed him was Xue’s attitude towards him;
if it was the same girl, she ought to have recognized
him. Last year in Weeping Willow the Xue he had met
was a tearful country girl; totally clueless, like a lamb
being led to the sacrificial slaughter for eighty bucks. He
hadn’t even done anything to her; her tears and meek
acquiescence had moved him to compassion. He had
done nothing, but he had still paid, and even given a
tip. He remembered how Xue had clumsily kissed him
on the face to express her gratitude, saying, ‘Mister, I’ll
never forget you all my life. You’re a nice man.’ Of course
he was a nice man: he hadn’t done anything, but had
still paid, and he felt satisfied when he thought of that.
He had been positive that Xue in Weeping Willow would
remember him, and so he felt a double sense of loss now:
he couldn’t be sure if it was the same girl, but she didn’t
seem to know him.

The room’s furnishings were shabby and rustic: an old-fashioned
slatted bed, a washstand and basin; walls
covered with posters of stars from Taiwan and Hong
Kong. The plastic matting had just been scrubbed and
was slippery to walk on. He saw they still had the kind of
mosquito net that had long since disappeared from the
big cities hanging from the ceiling over the bed. It all felt
very familiar, although he didn’t remember there being
any such net last year, but that might have been because it
was autumn then. The driver crawled under the mosquito
net and checked everything with his hands; the bedding
seemed clean and had been sprayed with perfume.
Slowly he lay down and heaved a sigh; he knew what the
proprietress was going to fix up for him, what it was he
was waiting for, and while he waited, he combed his hair
back with his hand. What was different from other times
in similar roadside inns was the heaviness of his heart.
This time, he was waiting for something without really
knowing whether he wanted it.

Xue came into the room carrying a Thermos. It was
obvious that she had been hectored inside by the proprietress
as she didn’t look willing and the smile on her face
was stiff. ‘Have a wash first,’ she said from outside the
mosquito net, ‘orders from the boss. She says you’re to
have a wash.’

‘What am I going to wash? You mean my feet?’

Xue stood there awkwardly, saying nothing. It was
clear from her expression that she was being forced to
attend to him.

‘What do you want me to wash? Come on, tell me.’
The driver pushed his face out of the net. He lowered his
eyes when he saw that she had no intention of answering,
pulled his head back and said, ‘I won’t wash. I’m not
dirty, so why should I wash?’

Xue said, ‘It’s not my business if you want to be filthy.
In any case, I’ll tell you straight out, I’m not on night
shift, I don’t do that stuff.’

‘What stuff is it you don’t do?’ the driver chuckled inside
his net and said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like
you before. If you don’t do anything, why are you here?
Get me the boss.’

‘No! I didn’t mean to offend you.’ Outside the net,
Xue’s voice had suddenly grown milder, more defensive.
She put the Thermos on the edge of the bed, and seemed
to be pondering something. Then, hesitantly, she said,
‘Look, if you don’t want to wash, then don’t. I’ll wash
your feet for you, I’ll massage your back, I’ll even scratch
you where it itches if you want, but you have to promise
me something, OK?’

‘What are you making such a big deal of it for? I just
want to relax. I’m hardly going to romance you, am I?
What am I supposed to promise you anyway?’

‘Fifteen minutes,’ Xue said. ‘Fifteen minutes, OK? After
that I’m going next door to watch TV, and you won’t tell
the boss.’

‘No way.’ The driver, having now understood what
she was after, could not suppress a smile. Mimicking
the girl’s voice, he repeated, ‘No way!’ And then, ‘Fifteen
minutes, enough to relax me? How about I only pay half,
then?’

‘Look, I’m begging you, OK? The last two episodes
are on today. It’ll start again after the ad break’s over.
Promise me! Promise, OK?’

‘No way!’ The driver said in a falsetto. ‘What do you
take me for?’ Suddenly he remembered something and
asked, ‘Why not just ten minutes then? Why fifteen?’

‘The first five minutes are for the opening song.’ Xue
realized that this question was a sign the driver might be
willing to accommodate her, and the thought lifted her
spirits so she said, ‘You know, you’re a nice man. I knew
all along you were a nice man. I’ll remember you all my
life.’

‘You said the same thing last year.’ The driver gave a
hollow laugh from inside his net. ‘What do girls like you
remember anyway? All you remember is the cash.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Why turn nasty all of
a sudden?’ Xue sounded flabbergasted. For a moment it
seemed she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She
pulled back the one that had been lifting the net. ‘Why
would you say something like that? Girls like me? What
kind of girl am I, then? How do you know what kind of
girl I am?’ She cocked her head and looked at the posters
on the wall. Then she whispered, ‘If you treat me like shit
I’m hardly going to want to serve you, and I don’t care if
you
do
tell the boss. Creep.’

‘Are you swearing at me?’

‘I didn’t swear at you. When did I ever swear at you?’

‘You called me a creep.’

‘That’s not swearing. They dock your salary if you
swear at a guest. Don’t go telling lies about me.’

‘How old are you, anyway? And how come you’re so
clueless? Do you really think you can earn money here
without having the first idea about anything?’ The driver
stared at the girl, and his tone of voice changed. It was
halfway between reproachful and teasing. ‘Tell me, are
you really Xue or not? Do you really not remember me? I
came here last year and you kept sobbing like some kind
of Lin Daiyu.
³
I didn’t even touch you but I paid up, and
you said over and over again that you were going to remember
me for ever . . . and now, damn it, in less than a
year you’ve forgotten about me altogether! I’m called Lin.
It’s me, Lin!’

Xue turned her head; the driver’s words had caught
her attention. She lifted the net an inch. Perhaps she
wanted to take a closer look at his face, but in the end
she was too embarrassed, so she plopped herself down
on the edge of the bed. It looked like she was straining
to remember something. She just sat there on the edge
of the bed, supporting herself with her hands, swaying
back and forth as if the movement were helping to jog
her memory. But in the end she shook her head and said,
‘No way. If you did something as nice as that, how come
I don’t remember it at all? You’re pulling my leg, right?
You drivers all like to joke. I’ve never met you before,
Liu.’

‘Not Liu, you illiterate! Lin, L-I-N, your friend Lin!’

‘Lin, all right? Don’t get so worked up. Look, if you help
me out now, I promise you that next time I’ll remember.’

‘If you don’t remember me, then never mind. Damn it,
it’s not like I was counting on you to remember me.’ The
driver sat up impatiently under the net, then lay down
again. Suddenly he laughed and said, ‘Come on then.
Aren’t you worried about missing your TV show? If you
want to see that last episode you’ll have to hurry up. I’m
in a bad mood and I’m tired too. Maybe you won’t even
need ten minutes.’

Then the driver watched as one of Xue’s legs slid under
the net; she hesitated over the other, but in the end it
came in too. The driver didn’t look at her face; he didn’t
know why, but he didn’t want to. He heaved a sigh, swore
coarsely under his breath and lifted his eyes to look at
the ceiling outside the net. The top of the net was made
of white cloth which was yellowing slightly, and through
it the driver could dimly make out chilli peppers strung
across the room. He asked, ‘What’s hanging up there? Are
those chilli peppers?’

‘Yeah, chilli peppers. They use them in the kitchen, but
there’s no room so they hang them in here.’

The driver’s whole body began to tremble, and his gaze
was drawn, almost unwillingly, outside the net. Dimly he
saw an old man sitting on the ground, his face covered in
blood, holding chilli peppers in his cupped hands. The
driver’s hands trembled until they froze in mid-air. He
turned over – the tidal water of desire that had swollen
his body abruptly receded and a kind of obscure dread
filled his mind. Brusquely he threw off Xue’s hands and
kicked her off the bed. ‘You don’t have to pinch me just
because you can’t do it right,’ he shouted loudly. ‘Go and
watch your TV show.’

This time Xue was frightened; she hadn’t been prepared
for his sudden violence and didn’t know how to react. At
first she stood barefoot outside the net, stunned, then
she picked up her green sandals from the ground. ‘What
was that about? There’s something wrong with you,’ she
said, then finally she started to cry and ran to the door,
sandals in hand. ‘There’s something wrong with all of
you, you sick bastards. You’re perverts! I’m damned if I’m
going to serve you creeps!’

The driver heard her footsteps recede rapidly, together
with the storm of weeping. It sounded as if she’d suffered
a huge injustice while the driver also felt like the victim
of some nameless wrongdoing. An ordinary matter had
become so complicated, against all expectation. He
didn’t know what he was doing, or why he had even come
to Weeping Willow in the first place. Before long he heard
the proprietress screaming and the hurried footsteps of
several people. He crawled out of the bed and quickly
locked the door.

When the proprietress knocked, the driver could
hear the two card-playing men conferring outside in
low voices. He called, ‘Don’t bother knocking, there’s
nothing wrong. Watch your TV show, I’m going to sleep.
I’ll just sleep a while and then I’ll be on my way. I’ll pay
whatever you say.’

‘Now come on, what’s up with you? If you don’t tell
me, I can’t make it right, can I?’ the proprietress cajoled.
‘Xue’s not very bright, she doesn’t always do as she’s
told. She’s no good at this kind of work. I’ve already sent
word to her family for them to come and pick her up. If
we’ve offended you, just be a little understanding with
us. It’ll be all right when Hong comes in the evening.
No matter what kind of service you need, we’ll give it to
you then.’

‘I don’t need any service at all, I just want to have a
little snooze.’ Through the door, the driver could smell
the proprietress’s strong perfume and suddenly the scent
revolted him. He pinched his nose and went over to
the room’s only window. He opened the curtains and
saw a large cornfield outside, a cornfield after the rain,
half green, half yellow, the leaves still sparkling with
raindrops. The huge fields and the hills in the distance
seemed to have been soaked in rainwater and exuded a
faint alcoholic smell. The driver saw something flash past
the window. Surprised, he poked his head out and saw
two white goats, their coats soaked, huddled together.
Apparently they had been standing below his window
for some time. He stretched out his hand to touch them,
stroking one of them on the back; it felt soft and wet, but
the beautiful sensation didn’t last for long before they
ran off.