Snakehead (41 page)
Authors: Peter May
Li’s yell cut across the hubbub in the coffee shop. He heard it distantly, as if it were someone else who had shouted. His legs felt leaden as they carried him in slow motion past the astonished faces of Starbucks customers. A table went spinning away to crash against the window, hot coffee streaking the glass, condensation forming instantly like frost. Someone’s angry voice burned his ear. A hand clutched at his arm. The cup was at Xiao Ling’s lips as he lunged at her, knocking it from her hand to clatter away across the floor. She was frozen in astonishment and fright, uncomprehending. Xinxin’s cries rose in her throat, giving vent to her fear. Why had Uncle Yan hit her mother? Li put his arms around his sister and drew her to him and immediately felt her sobs. He squeezed most of the breath from her and knew that death had been only a whisper away.
A member of staff was at his elbow demanding to know what he thought he was doing. Who did he think was going to clear up the mess? Someone stooped to pick his cellphone from the floor where it had slithered beneath a chair. He could hear Margaret’s voice. Urgent and fearful. ‘Li? Li? For God’s sake, Li, are you still there? What’s happened?’
He took the phone and put it to his ear, and with a voice that seemed so much calmer than he felt he said, ‘I’m here, Margaret.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine.’
And for a moment neither of them knew what else to say, or how to end the conversation. Then Margaret said, ‘So…’ her voice trailing away, her sentence unfinished.
Li said, ‘So…what?’
‘So, you’ll still be going back to China?’
‘I have no reason to stay, Margaret.’
Another silence. Then, ‘What if I were to give you a reason?’
He glanced at his sister. She and Meiping were staring back at him, fearful, curious. He was aware of Xinxin clutching her mother’s leg, still crying. A girl with a bucket and mop was splashing the floor around his feet. ‘What reason?’ he asked. What reason could she give him? That she loved him? Well, maybe she did. And maybe he loved her, too. But they had been down that road before and it had not led to fulfilment.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said simply. ‘I’m carrying your child, Li Yan.’
And of all the reasons he might have imagined, that was not one of them. But he knew immediately that it was the only reason he would ever need.
Note
At the time of writing, the American federal government had not actually cleared the use of
Fusarium oxysporum
for spraying coca crops in Colombia. But it
was
under active consideration.
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