The Garlic Ballads (4 page)

Her scythe stopped in midair. “He has guests today.”

The heavy-hearted, mournful tone of her comment did not escape Gao Ma, who dropped the subject and returned to his work. His mood was further soured by the millet brushing against his face and shoulders. “I cut three rows for every two of yours, and you’re getting in my way,” he snapped.

“Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she complained, on the verge of tears, I’m worn out.”

“I should have guessed,” he replied. “This is no job for a woman.”

“People can endure anything.”

“If I had a wife, she’d be home in the kitchen or mending clothes or feeding the chickens. I’d never make her work in the fields.”

Jinju looked at him and muttered, “She’s a lucky woman, whoever she is.”

“Jinju, tell me what the villagers say about me.”

“I’ve never heard them say anything.”

“Don’t worry—whatever it is, I can take it.”

“Well, some of them say … don’t get mad … they say you messed up in the army.”

“That’s right, I did.”

“They say you and a regiment commander’s wife … he caught the two of you …”

Gao Ma sneered. “It wasn’t his wife, it was his concubine. And I didn’t love her. I hated her—I hated them all.”

“You’ve seen and done so much,” she said with a sigh.

“It’s not worth a dog’s fart,” he snarled. Throwing down his scythe, he scooped up some millet and straightened up. Kicking it angrily, he cursed again, “Not worth a dog’s fart!”

Her crippled brother limped up about then, as Gao Ma recalled. Though he was not yet forty, his hair was turning white and his face was deeply wrinkled. His left leg, shorter than the right, was rail thin, giving him a pronounced limp.

“Jinju!” he bellowed. “You plan to stay here through lunch?”

Cupping his hand over his eyes, Gao Ma muttered, “Why does your brother treat you like his worst enemy?”

She bit her lip as two large tears slid down her cheeks.

Jinju, I haven’t known a moment’s peace since you cried that day. I love you, I want to make you my wife…. It’s been a year already, Jinju, but you avoid me whenever I try to talk to you … I want to rescue you from your living hell. Zhang Kou, another dozen lines is all I ask, enough time for me to take her hand … even if she screams in front of everyone, even if her mother jumps up and curses or slaps me. No, she wont scream, I know she wont. She’s unhappy with the marriage they’ve arranged for her. It was the day her older brother called out to her, the day I helped her bring in the harvest that her parents signed an agreement with Liu Shengli’s grandfather and Cao Wen’s parents, stringing three boys and three girls together like so many locusts, a chain with six links, a tawdry way to create new families. She doesn’t hate me; she likes me.
When
we meet, she lowers her head and scoots by, but I can see the tears in her eyes. My heart aches my liver aches my lungs ache my stomach aches my gut aches everything inside me aches…. ‘ “Commander, hurry, give the order,” wailed Zhang Kou. “Send your troops down the mountain … save our Big Sister Jiang … so many moths have died in the yellow lame of the lantern, our Big Sister Jiang is held captive, the masses fear for her safety. Comrades! We must be cool-headed—if they take our elder sister from us, I’ll be the one to grieve…. The old lady fires two pistols, her white hair flutters in the wind, tears stream down her face.”

Say something, Zhang Kou. Sing, Zhang Kou. “My husband languishes in a prison camp … his widow and orphaned daughter carry on the revolution …” Zhang Kou, just a couple more lines, two more, and I can take her hand, I can feel the warmth of her body, I can smell the sweat in her armpits. “Making revolution doesn’t mean acting rashly…. It must be slow and sure, one careful step at a time.”

Explosions went off inside his head, and a halo of light swirled until he was encircled by a cloud of many colors. He reached out; his hand seemed to have eyes, or maybe hers had been waiting all along. He gripped it tightly. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. It was not cold, yet he was shivering; his heart paled.

The next night Gao Ma hid behind a stack of chaff on the edge of Jinju’s threshing floor, waiting anxiously. It was another starry night, with the slender crescent moon hanging, it seemed, from the tip of a tall tree, its luminous rays weakened by the encircling starlight. A chestnut colt galloped along the edge of the floor, which was bordered on the south by a wide trench whose sloping banks had been planted with indigo bushes. Occasionally the colt galloped into the trench and up the other side, and when it passed through the bushes it set them rustling. The lamps were lit at Jinju’s home, where her father—Fourth Uncle Fang—was in the yard talking loudly and being constantly interrupted by Fourth Aunt, Jinju’s mother. Gao Ma strained to hear their conversation, but was too far away. A yardful of parakeets—well over a hundred of them—were setting up a deafening racket at the home of the Fangs’ neighbor Gao Zhileng. The noise put everyone on edge. Gao Zhileng raised parakeets for profit, of which there was a great deal, and his was the only family in the village that did not rely on garlic for its livelihood.

The shrill squawks of the parakeets grated on the ears, as the chestnut colt, tail swishing rapidly, paced the area, its bright eyes poking holes in the misty darkness. It began nibbling at a pile of chaff, only half-seriously, it appeared, but enough to send the slightly mildewy smell of millet on the wind to Gao Ma, who crept around the stack to inch closer to Jinju’s barred gate, through which slivers of light seeped. He couldn’t tell what time it was, since his watch didn’t have a luminous dial. Around nine, he figured. Just then the clock in Gao Zhileng’s home began to chime, and Gao Ma moved far enough away from the parakeet squawks to count the chimes. Nine all together. He’d guessed right. His thoughts drifted back to what had happened the night before and to the movie
Le Rouge et le Noir
, which he had seen in the army: Julien takes Madame de Rênal’s hand while he is counting the peals of the church bell.

Gao Ma had squeezed Jinju’s hand, and she had squeezed his back. They hadn’t let go until Zhang Kou finished his ballad, and then only with great reluctance. In the confusion of all the getting up and going, he whispered, “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow night by the millet chaff. We need to talk.”

He wasn’t looking at her, didn’t even know if she heard him. But the next day he worked so absentmindedly that he frequendy dug up seedlings and spared the weeds. The afternoon sun was still high in the sky when he went home, where he trimmed his beard, squeezed a couple of pimples alongside his nose, scraped some of the gunk off his teeth with the scissors, and washed his shaved scalp and neck with toilet soap. After a hurried meal he dug out his seldom-used toothbrush and toothpaste to give his teeth a good brushing.

The parakeets’ squawking made him edgy, and each time he strode up to the gate, he meekly turned and headed back. Then the gate creaked, setting off a drumroll in his heart. He thrust his hand into the stack of chaff up to the elbow without feeling a thing. The chestnut colt, suddenly energized, began to gallop, its hooves sending dirt clods thudding into the chaff with scary resonance.

“Where do you think you’re going at this late hour?” Fourth Aunt shouted.

“It’s not late. It’s barely dark out.” Just hearing Jinju’s voice made him feel slightly guilty.

“I asked you where you’re going,” Fourth Aunt repeated.

“Down to the riverbank to cool off,” Jinju replied with determination.

“Don’t be long.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away.”

Jinju, Jinju, Gao Ma moaned softly, how do you stand it all?

The latch clanged loudly as the gate was pulled shut. From his vantage point beside the chaff, Gao Ma longingly watched her blurred silhouette head north toward the river instead of coming toward him. He managed to keep from running after her, assuming this was a sham for her mother’s benefit.

Jinju … Jinju … He buried his face in the chaff, his eyes dampening. Meanwhile the colt galloped back and forth behind him, and the parakeets squawked. Off to the south, in the stinking, weed-infested reservoir, frogs croaked to one another, the mournful sound falling unpleasantly on the ear.

All this reminded Gao Ma of the night three years earlier when he and the regiment commander’s concubine had slipped away together: how the pert-nosed, freckle-faced woman threw herself into his arms, how he held her tight and smelled her heavy body odor. Like holding a wooden log, he embraced her even though he didn’t love her. You’re despicable, he had cursed himself, pretending to be in love in order to enhance your prospects with her patron. Yet things have a way of evening out, and I paid a heavy price for my hypocrisy.

But it’s different with Jinju. I’d die for Jinju, my Jinju.

She walked in the shadow of the wall, skirting the starlit threshing floor, and came toward him. His heart pounded wildly, he began to tremble, his teeth chattered.

She walked around the stack and stopped a few feet from him. “What do you want to talk to me about, Elder Brother Gao Ma?” Her voice quaked.

“Jinju …” His lips were so stiff he could barely get the words out. He heard his own heartbeat and a voice that quaked like a woman’s. He coughed—it sounded forced and unnatural.

“Dont … please don’t make any noise,” she pleaded anxiously as she backed up several steps.

The colt, feeling mischievous, rubbed its flank against the stack, even extracted some chaff with its lips and flung it to the ground in front of them.

“Not here,” he said. “Let’s go down to the trench.”

“I can’t…. If you have something to say, hurry up and say it.”

“Not here, I said.” He walked down the edge of the threshing floor, all the way to the trench. Jinju still hadn’t moved. But when he turned to go back for her, she began walking timidly toward him. He threaded his way through the indigo bushes and waited for her at the bottom of the trench, and when she reached the gently sloping side, he took her hand and pulled her to him.

She tried to take her tiny hand, but he cupped it tightly in his and stroked it. “I love you, Jinju,” he blurted out. “Marry me!”

“Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she replied softly, “you know I’ve been betrothed so that my brother can get married.”

“I know, but I also know it’s not what you want.”

She loosened his grip with her free hand and liberated its mate. “Yes it is.”

“No, it’s not. Liu Shengli is a forty-five-year-old man with an infected windpipe. He’s too sickly to even carry a load of water. Are you telling me you’d marry coffin pulp like that?”

She whimpered in reply, the sound hanging in the air for a long moment. “What can I do?” she sobbed. “My brother’s over thirty … a cripple … Cao Wenling is only seventeen, and prettier than me.…”

“You’re not your brother, and you’re not required to go to your grave for his sake.”

“Elder Brother Gao Ma, it’s fate. Go find yourself a good woman…. Me … next life …” Holding her face in her hands, she turned and broke for the indigo bushes. But he grabbed her, making her stumble and fall into his embrace.

He hugged her so tightly he could feel the heat of her soft belly, but when he tried to find her mouth with his, she covered her face with her hands. Undaunted, he began nibbling her earlobe, as fine strands of hair brushed his face. His chill was replaced by hot cinders deep in his heart. She began to squirm, as if tormented by a powerful itch. Suddenly letting her hands drop, she threw her arms around his neck. “Elder Brother Gao Ma, please don’t nibble my ear,” she begged tearfully. “I can’t bear it….” He moved his mouth back to hers and began sucking on her tongue. She groaned, as hot tears welled up and wetted both their faces. A surge of hot air floated up from her stomach, bestowing on Gao Ma the taste of garlic and fresh grass.

His hands moved roughly over her body.

“Elder Brother Gao Ma, not so rough. You’re hurting me.”

They sat on the slope of the trench in each other’s arms, hands roaming freely. Through cracks in the lush indigo covering they caught glimpses of golden starlight in the deep-blue sky. The crescent moon was sinking. An orbiting satellite tore through the Milky Way, and the air was suffused with the distinctive aroma of indigo.

“What do you love about me?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Everything.”

The night was cooling off. They talked in hushed tones.

“But you know I’m spoken for,” she said with a shiver. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. We’re in love.”

“But I’m betrothed.”

“You have to register to be legally married.”

“Does that mean we can be together?”

“Yes. Just tell your father you won’t agree to the wedding.”

“No,” she protested, tripping over her tongue. “They’d kill me…. I’ve been a burden to them for so long.”

“Does that mean you’d rather marry a dying old man?”

“I’m afraid.” By now she was weeping. “Mother says she’ll take poison if I don’t.”

“Scare tactics.”