Fox Spirit 80 – Things Fall Apart

           

Sara realized she had made another slip – she shouldn’t have kept her meeting with Mrs. Cheng a secret. She tried to keep her voice even. “Storm, truth has many faces. You know your own hurt and it’s real. Your mother has her own pain, her own scars. Your father too. You must ask them; you must let them tell you their story before you judge them.”

            He pulled away from her entirely, gripping her arms and holding her at arm’s length . He searched her face. “And if I ask, if I hear this truth, will it change things?  Won’t you and Riqi not still be my true family, you who own my heart?”

            Sara could not meet his gaze. She tried to touch him, but his grip on her arms didn’t loosen. “Storm, my heart’s core, …” her voice stumbled. “I don’t know. Someday Riqi must return to his father. And you must speak with your mother.”

            Storm dropped his grip on Sara’s arms and stepped back. His face was twisted with anger and disappointment. Sara turned away in dismay, reaching for the counter next to her chair.

            Storm’s voice was coldly furious. “I had hoped to be like a father to Riqi. Instead you say you must take him from me. You treat me like a child. You talk with my mother behind my back. You tell me I must ask her, as if I needed her permission to love you. But I’m not a child. I am a man and you are a woman and must bend to me.”

                        He took a quick step forward, grasped  her shoulders from behind and firmly turned her, one arm circling her, the other pressing her into his grip. She struggled, was unable to break loose, was forced to look up at him.

            The hand pressing her backward released its pressure;  she pitched forward, was held upright by Storm’s other arm encircling her, while the hand roughly groped at her skirt, pulling it up over her hips.

            “No! What are you doing?  I won’t…”

            “Yes, you will. You have had your way before. Now my way.” There was no hint of softness in his face or in his voice – she might have been looking at a carved stone, listening to a voice of stone. He half pushed, half lifted her into the kitchen alcove. Enraged, she tried to push him away but her arms were both pinned by his one. She found no purchase for her feet as he half lifted her to the edge of the small sink. His mouth covered hers, not to kiss but to keep her from crying out as his other hand fumbled at his trouser fly.  

               Sara writhed under his grip, the edge of the sink digging into her hip. She found a moment of leverage against the cupboard, and drove one knee upward. He groaned, his grip failed as he bent forward, and she was sliding downward, her spine scraping against the sink edge, unable to catch herself until one foot found the floor.  The hand still pinioned by his arm found a hold on the edge of the sink, and with the other hand she pushed against one shoulder tipping him off balance so that he reeled away from her. He caught himself against the table and they stood staring at each other, both panting. Sara found her voice first.

               “Not a child, you say!, but what is this, but a spoiled child having a tantrum because things are not to your liking. A man would use his words and his wits to find out the truth, not pick a fight or sulk like a moody teenager.” She pulled her skirt down.

               Still staring at her, Storm fastened his trousers deliberately and silently put on his jacket. At the door he turned an expressionless face toward Sara. “I will be traveling again for the next two weeks. I had hoped to have more to look forward to on my return than a conversation with my mother. Farewell, huli jing.”  And he was gone, not slamming, but closing the door softly after him.

After a few moments Sara moved to look behind the screen. Through it all, Richie had slept, snoring softly from behind his screen. He had heard nothing, seen nothing, as she and Storm had struggled and fought.

            Sara moved to hang up her discarded jacket and scarf and straightened a pillow of the couch. She found herself staring at the closed door. How had things gone so wrong?  Storm had been so angry. Afterward his voice had been so cold. When he left, he had closed the door so quietly behind him. She had been a fool to mention his mother. What if he went to her?  She had been foolish with Mrs. Cheng also. She hadn’t hidden her dismay; she hadn’t used a mask to hide her aims. She should have pretended agreement. She should have told Storm about the meeting. He had a right to be angry.  He had no right to force himself on her.  She had never seen violence in him before.  And he had left with no word of reconciliation, just gone.  What if Storm turned against her for good?  She had an impulse to pound her head against the wall, just to quiet her thoughts.

            She heard a whimper from Richie and moved to look behind the screen. Richie lay in his crib, spread-eagled with no blanket, as if welcoming any movement of air in the humid dark. His breath was even, strong. Maybe in some dream he had heard their quarrel. But his even breath spoke of no nightmare. Sara turned to her bed. In her bed, she forced herself to lie quietly, staring at the ceiling, until sleep came.

###

                        The next week passed in a blur. The heat of early September was at its height; the red dust of the Gobi coated every vehicle, every leaf, every surface. The whir of the office air conditioning seemed extra loud, constantly intruding on Sara’s thoughts as she tried to concentrate on sales figures and marketing proposals. Sara didn’t expect Storm to call, couldn’t think what she would say if he called, but still resented her telephone’s silence.

            Just before closing time on Friday, Jerry Wang called her into his office,  the only space in Rainbow Software besides the conference room which boasted a door. Sara expected nothing more than a word or two of praise for the success of the online game in Korea and perhaps a new project directed at the growing market for internet games in Hong Kong. Maybe Storm had reported something of interest from his current road trip; she was hungry for any word of him.

            Jerry Wang motioned Sara to a chair, closed the door behind her, and then sat behind his desk, rather than in the adjacent chair which he used for informal sessions. Sara felt a twinge of unease as she noticed the formality. Jerry’s first words did not dispel her doubt.

            “Manager Miller, there are some things I wish to say to you privately. First, let me say how much I have appreciated your hard work in assisting us to launch Rainbow Software successfully.” He paused and rustled the papers on his desk, then looked up at Sara.

            “It’s been four years now since you came to work here at Rainbow Software. You’ve have done much to help us in our beginning years to become a stable, mature business. We’ll always be grateful to you for your efforts.”  Jerry Wang glanced down again at the papers on his desk. “I’m sure you will understand how difficult this is….”

            Sara’s stomach knotted. His use of her title instead of “Sara” had been a warning. She braced herself for the next blow.

             “…Our needs have changed since you were first hired. We no longer need the American Face which you have provided so well. Chinese investors particularly want to be investing in Chinese businesses…”

            Sara moved impatiently in her chair but Wang held up his hand to restrain any words from her.

             ”…and  I’m sure that as your grandson is nearly ready for school you’ll be  wanting to return to your homeland soon.. So this is a good time for both of us to make a transition. It’s now September 10. Your last day will be September 30th. This is our standard three weeks’ notice and brings you right to the end of the month.”

Fox Spirit 79 – Clash of Future Visions

 

“Indeed Storm has benefited from his time with you in many ways.” Ruth Cheng said quickly. “ But now he must move on. His father and I are no longer young. Our aging parents ask us how is the family name is to be continued, when will there be another generation to secure their name?   Storm is over thirty. This is the approved age for marriage. He must think of this seriously.”

            Sara’s mouth felt dry. She asked, “What do you want me to do?”

            “I know Storm has been happy with you,” Mrs. Cheng replied. “Now it’s time for him to find happiness in a different way. I believe you aren’t selfish; you also want what is best for Storm. And now, it would be best if you and this child weren’t part of his life. He needs a real wife, a real son.”

            “You want me to break with him.”

            Mrs. Cheng nodded. Her eyes were fixed on Sara, her face without expression, as if waiting to know from Sara’s reaction whether a smile or a frown would be called for.

            “But how can I do this?” Sara now found words spilling out of her. “We’re colleagues; we sit opposite each other in the same office. We can’t avoid each other. How can I pretend he’s nothing to me, when we see each other daily?”

            “Storm told me once that you both were very discreet in the office,” Mrs. Cheng answered. “And one time before, you quarreled, yes? I remember Storm was very moody, very silent, in those days. I asked about you and he said he never saw you; you had different schedules. You could manage this again. If that is too hard….”

            Sara heard the threat under Mrs. Cheng’s polite tone. “You’ve been frank with me, Mrs. Cheng. I’ll be frank with you also. You’re right that I want what’s best for Storm, but you mustn’t try now to separate Storm from Riqi and me. It’s not the right time. He’s happy with me and with Riqi.”

            “And when will this ‘right time’ be?”  Ruth Cheng was almost motionless, except for one hand stirring her tea. She waited for Sara’s response, then went on. “You would like to wait until you think it is the right time for you, maybe, not for Storm. But I’m thinking about what is best for yourself and your grandson also. You are older every day; your grandson every day is still an American, no matter how fluent his Chinese. China isn’t a home for you. When Storm speaks of you as his family, this is a fantasy. You will return to America and Storm must stay in China where his future lies. You know this is true, Mrs. Miller.”

            “China is not a home for you.” The words echoed in Sara’s mind, like a commentary on the stranger’s recoil at sight of her in the celebrating crowd the week before. Sara’s protest was sharper than she intended. “I believe I know best what’s right for me and my grandson. And Storm has his right to choose.” 

            Ruth Cheng stood up, rattling the cups, Her lips were tight, eyes narrowed. The polite mask was abandoned. “You do not agree now to separate yourself from my son?  But this is indeed the time. If you won’t do this for me and for him, Mrs. Miller, there are other ways.”  She picked up her bag from the table. “If we do not meet again, Meile Sai Le, please know that I have wished you well.” She turned on her heel and walked quickly out of the coffee shop.

            A mixture of anger and anxiety churned in Sara’s stomach. She looked around in panic and found the western-style restroom, rushed into one of the cubicles, and lost what she had eaten of her lunch.

###

            Waking or sleeping, Mrs. Cheng’s demands haunted Sara. When Storm returned a week later she wondered how much his mother had told him, or would tell him, about their meeting. Her small apartment, previously a haven of privacy and intimacy, felt as if it were closing in.

               Storm reached out to stop her as Sara moved restlessly from the sofa to the kitchen counter and back.

             “Sai Le, be still. You pace back and forth, you answer every question with a snarl; I’m in a cage with a tiger.” 

            “You say I am edgy!  Hard to be with! What do you want me to be?  What is your plan for me?  Is there a plan?  Do we have a future?  Your mother, she has a plan. Do you?”

            He stiffened with surprise. “What do you know of my mother’s plan for me? What has she to do with us?”

            Sara stepped backward, felt for a chair and sat down, forcing her voice to calmness. She would not widen the gulf between Storm and his parents if she could help it. She did her best to cover her slip.

            “Your mother’s plan for you, I’m sure it’s like every mother’s plan. She wants you to have a family, give her grandchildren, something in return for her pain. Your father, your grandparents, they want this too, and you must feel you owe them…”

            “Owe them what?  My birth?  My twisted childhood?” Storm shook his head as if shaking off a bad memory. “You’re right, this is the traditional view of the son’s role. A son, a grandson of their own body and blood will satisfy them. But there is nothing in that plan that will satisfy me –I may as well emasculate myself.” He looked away, bitterness in his voice.

            “No”, Sara answered. Her anger gone, she came to him and pressed herself against him. “How then could you comfort me?”

            Storm smiled, but still could not stop touching the sore spot she had opened. “Huli jing, what is your plan? Riqi is more than four, at six he’ll be recognized in our tradition as a living soul, not just a visitor. But will he visit here and live in America?  And you?  And us?  You know what my parents are, how they left me and then picked me up at their convenience. I owe them nothing. Why can’t we be you, me, and Riqi, three people together? This would be my true family.”

            For a moment Sara let herself sink into this vision. To wake up with Storm beside her, she and Storm and their child starting out together each morning without having to make up a cover story for Auntie Chen, arriving together at the office after dropping the child off…. Then unbidden came the memories of the man who had trodden on her foot during the Olympic celebration, Jerry Wang’s coldness when she had shown interest in Storm, Ruth Cheng’s voice  “He needs a Chinese wife.” Richie had just turned four. The future she had been ignoring loomed very close. More memories: Larry Cavallo: “I’ve never seen a sign of kindness from you.” And her son’s sarcastic voice:  “I’d thought you’d forgotten Richie was ever coming back for good.”  

            Sara laid her finger across Storm’s mouth. “Hush. You wrong your mother, wrong your father. You haven’t heard their story. You must ask them, ask your mother to tell you the story she told me.”

            Storm jerked back as if she had pressed a wound. “You talked with my mother?  When was this? What did she tell you?”

Fox Spirit 78 –

July 2001

Sara

           

Sara pushed back her chair from the keyboard and ran her fingers through her hair. Storm was out of town and the end of quarter numbers had absorbed all her attention. Then she heard a step behind her and Scarlet Li’s voice. “It’s Friday – you shouldn’t be working late tonight.”

            Sara turned to face Scarlet with a smile and a shake of her head. “I’ve got no plans for the evening, so I wanted to finish this letter to the investors. And it’s cooler in the office. But you’re right – I mustn’t be too late picking up Riqi.”

            “No plans?  Then you must come eat with us. Snow Plum would be delighted to have Riqi as guest; Hu can talk politics with you. We can stop at the market, buy fish, pick up Snow Plum and Riqi together.

            “Buhaoyisi. So embarrassing.” The ritual disclaimer at any invitation came naturally to Sara now.

            “Bu keqi. Don’t stand on politeness. Put away your papers and come.”

            There was no excuse to be had, nor did Sara really want one. Richie would be grumpy on this hot July evening and Sara hadn’t really looked forward to fighting the dusty wind, picking up Richie alone, and contriving a dinner for the two of them.

            Scarlet wheeled her bicycle out of the back hallway ahead of Sara, opened the door and then stopped in amazement. The normally quiet street bordering the Bei Hai campus was thronged with students, shouting, cheering, and waving banners. Cars inched their way through the throngs, more students hanging from the windows, riding on the bumpers, cheering, and singing.

            “What is it? Some special holiday?” Sara asked quickly. No, tomorrow was Bastille Day, but surely that wouldn’t trigger such a celebration in Beijing? 

            “I don’t know. Wait a minute.” Scarlet Li set her bicycle against the wall and walked briskly out to the road. She took a young man by the arm, Sara could see her lips asking a question, see the young man grin as he answered. Scarlet Li came back to Sara, smiling broadly. “We may have trouble buying at the market. Everyone will be celebrating!  China has been awarded the Olympics!” She gave a little skip and crow of delight.

            “For what year?”

            “2008 – We’ll have a lot to do in seven years!  We’ll give the world such a show!”

            Sara was amazed at the outpouring of national pride and celebration. Banners were suddenly everywhere, waved by grandmothers from upper windows and by young men perched on lampposts. Sara and Scarlet Li struggled through the happy, singing crowd to the Children’s Palace to retrieve Snow Plum and Riqi, then walked their bicycles with the children perched astride – there was no hope of riding with so many people in the street. The children rode each with wide eyes and fingers in mouth, staring at the people, the flags, and the flashing lights.

            “Maybe we won’t stop for fish,” Scarlet Li said. “I have other food at home and by the time we get there at this slow rate the children will be ready to eat anything. I’m glad we’re together – it would be harder still for just one person to make a way. I think my husband will be slow to get home also. He’ll be coming against the tide, from Tiananmen Square. All Beijing will be going the other way!”

            “Long live the motherland!” The shouts echoed from the buildings. “China 2008!” ”Beijing! Beijing!” Sara kept her bicycle at Scarlet Li’s side, but could not help smiling.   “Beijing!” she cried out.“Beijing!”

            Her voice merged with the general shouting. Then a stranger was pushed against her, stepped on her foot, turned to apologize and stopped in mid “Dui bu qi…” as he registered her foreign face. He quickly moved back to make way for her, muttering a nervous “Par-mee, ma’am”.

            Suddenly Sara was down to earth again. No matter how she felt, she would never be anything but a foreigner. She felt tears, fought them back. Scarlet looked over at Sara and her joyous expression changed to concern.

             “Mei guanxi. It is nothing –just the moment…” Sara said quickly, forcing her face into a smile. Scarlet nodded and turned back to the task of finding a path for the bicycles through the crowd. Sara took a deep breath and followed her. At least she had learned about masks.

            Ruth Cheng called a week later, just before lunchtime on Monday. It was the first time Sara had heard from her since their meeting after Richie’s arrival almost eighteen months earlier, except for a red and gold greeting card at the New Year. Her voice was cool and formal. “I am at Bei Hai, Meile Taitai. I’m hoping that we could again meet for coffee. Could you possibly make time this afternoon?”

             “This afternoon would be difficult, Mrs. Cheng,” was Sara’s first reaction, looking at her cluttered desk. But then she wondered – What is this about? Ruth Cheng wants something. Might as well get it over, whatever it is.Sara quickly rephrased her knee-jerk refusal “I was just getting ready to go to lunch. Can we meet at the Tully’s coffee shop again at 12:30?  Would that be possible?”

            “Yes, you’re very kind to agree to my last-minute request. 12:30 will be fine.”

            Twenty minutes into lunch and Sara knew no more than she had before about why she was there. Ruth Cheng had greeted her warmly, shaken her hand, insisted on paying for Sara’s sandwich and coffee, led the way to a table in an isolated corner. They chatted about the hot July weather, the excitement of the Beijing Olympics choice, and the excellent air conditioning in the Tully’s Coffee Shop compared to Sara’s office or the Chengs’ apartment. Mrs. Cheng mentioned how little they saw of Storm with his increased business travel; Sara agreed and took pains to mention how Storm’s hard work had helped Rainbow Software’s success.

             “But it’s not just his travel that takes so much of his time,” Mrs. Cheng said softly. “When he is in Beijing he is with you and with the small child. He returns home only to sleep. We see him for breakfast only. The rest of his life is with you.”

            Mrs. Cheng paused, as if waiting for a comment from Sara. Sara recognized that the real subject of the meeting was approaching and waited.

            “I haven’t seen your grandson, but Storm has shown me a picture. He is a beautiful child.”

            Sara still said nothing. The proper Chinese response would be to deny the compliment, but she could not make herself say disparaging things about Richie to Storm’s mother.

            Mrs. Cheng took a sip of coffee, set the cup down carefully, and folded her hands in her lap. “Storm is very fond of this child, I think. And of you. He has spoken of you both as jia ren, his family.”

            With relief Sara found she could speak. “Storm is very good with Riqi. Very patient. They’ve become very good friends.”

             Yes,” agreed Ruth Cheng quickly. “I think this is good preparation for when Storm becomes a father. He will understand children better if he has some experience.”

            The abrupt image of Storm being a father to another woman’s child made Sara’s stomach twist. She heard the murmur of conversation around them, the clink of pottery, the sputtering of the espresso machine, as if from a great distance. She knew with the sudden sourness in her belly why Ruth Cheng had asked for this meeting.

Fox Spirit 77 – Safety Net?

June 2001

Sara

          Sara felt a chill each time she remembered Storm’s talk of her leaving. What had prompted that thought? Of course, Richie would have to go back to Mark for kindergarten, that had always been understood. But Sara  would return. And then – she would think about that later. She remembered Mark’s ironic tone when they had talked at Christmas. “Okay, okay, you have it all figured out. But he’s MY son.”  If only she did have it all figured out.

            She tried to dive into work at the office when Storm was away on his sales trips, but there, too, she felt a chill. The rift between Storm and Trueheart had seemed to heal. When they met at the San Francisco Wine Shop heir banter and bickering was as lively and sharp-edged as it had ever been. But somehow the rift seemed to have moved to divide Trueheart and Sara. He had always been formal in their office dealings, as if they had no outside contact. But now when Trueheart called her “Manager Miller” his voice was edged in irony, as though everything she had done to add value to her position with Rainbow Software had never happened and she was still only the American Face.

            Sara hadn’t expected Jade’s departure to make such a difference. She and Jade and Scarlet had formed a team in the office, each helping the other out if needed, united against the Chinese tradition of overlooking women’s contributions. But with Silver Wing at the reception desk, the team was broken up. Despite her timidity and deference to the older women, Silver Wing was still the boss’s wife. The three women still lunched together, but the supportive joking and gossip was constrained. And with his wife in the office, Jerry Wang’s demeanor toward Sara was also less casually Californian, more formal, more Chinese.

             The changes in the office, plus Storm’s absence for the weekend, were in the back of Sara’s mind during her Sunday video call with Mark. They had exchanged trivialities:  Mark was seeing a young woman, Elizabeth, that he liked a lot; Richie used the spy-ball camera to show his father his new bicycle with training wheels; Carol was planning a 50^th birthday party for Jasper. Mark was almost ready to sign off when Sara interrupted him.

            “Mark, have you given any more thought about when Richie will be coming back?

            On the computer screen Mark’s face froze. There was silence. Had the connection been broken?

            “Mark, are you there?  Did you hear me?”

            “Yes, I’m here. But where did this come from? You usually dodge that discussion like a scared rabbit. Is there something …” His voice drifted off. She could hear Mark take a deep breath, as if he were about to dive into cold water. “I thought, after we talked at Christmas, about how you have such a good situation there. I thought next year, like you said, when he can start kindergarten, it would be easier for him.”

            Was this how Ruth Cheng had felt, putting off reclaiming Storm for year after year?  Thinking each year that next year would be easier? Sara hesitated before going on. “Mark, I’m thinking now… he might need more time to get used to American ways. Maybe he should be in preschool there. Just in case….”        

            Mark interrupted quickly. “Mom, has something happened?  If you’re going to be coming back… there’s some things I have to take care of. You can’t just spring this on me.”

            Sara felt as though her stomach had dropped to her pubic bone. Mark didn’t want her and Richie to come back so soon?  What had changed for him? Then she understood. “Elizabeth?  This girl you’ve been seeing? ”

            “Yes. I’m… I think it’s serious. I mean, it is serious.”

            “How serious?”

                        “Well, actually…we’re talking about her moving in here. I’ve told her about Rennie and about you taking care of Richie for me. But I can’t, you know. I can’t dump my mother and my kid into the spare bedroom without some warning.” 

            “Moving in?  This is the girl you just said you were “seeing”?  That you “like a lot”? What is going on with you?”  Sara was having difficulty controlling her dismay.

            “Take it easy, Mom. I was trying to ease it in, you know. Didn’t want to make too much of it and then it was too late. She’s … she is special. I know you’ll like her, Mom.”

            “Can you drag her into camera range?” Sara braced for an awkward meeting, but Mark wasn’t meeting her eyes.

            “She’s not here. She has choir practice on Sunday evening, so…”

            “So you call me when you can be sure she’s not going to be wandering into view, is that it?  Does she know you have a mother at all?”

            “Yes, but… “

            Suddenly Sara remembered the picture of Mark and Richie which she had routinely stuffed in a drawer when Storm first began to visit. Was her picture hidden in a drawer?  She sighed.

            “Relax, Sweet. I’m not going to show up with Richie on your doorstep tomorrow. But if things change  here, something happens at his daycare, or at my office…. This is China, after all. We have to be prepared, if he might be coming back sooner.”

            She thought she heard a muffled “Jesus Christ!” at the other end of the line. Mark’s eyes narrowed.

            “I thought you had China all figured out, Mom. You had “such a good situation” – your words, remember? What’s up?”

            “Nothing, nothing particular. Just some vibes in the office, that’s all. But you can take this as a little nudge to get your act together. Surely you can have a conversation with Elizabeth before the end of the month, ok?” 

            Sara wondered how the woman sharing Mark’s life would feel at the revelation that he might have to function as a single parent – but that was his problem. If she was angry, well, it was Mark’s fault for keeping secrets. Why hadn’t he told the girl Richie would be coming back?  Why hadn’t he told Sara about the girl?  Why hadn’t she ever asked him about his life?  It had been so convenient to lay him aside. She too must get her act together.

            “By the end of the month,” Mark responded. “Yes, ok, I’ll have it worked out by then.” She saw him set his jaw. Sara hadn’t realized how much he had grown to look like his father.    

            “Really, Mom, I do want Richie and, really, I want you both back here. It’s just …. You caught me off guard.  I’ll get it worked out. Just … give me notice when you’re serious about coming, right?  I just need some time.”

            Sara recognized a stall when she saw it. Better take what she could get. “We’ll talk, Mark. But don’t keep us a secret – Richie’s getting too big to hide.”

            “Yeah, I hear you. I guess you don’t have any secrets at all from me, do you Mom?”

            Sara flinched at the irony in his voice. Maybe he had heard Richie’s remark about “Uncle Cheng” after all. Better to pretend he hadn’t. Better for both of them to pretend, at least for a little while longer.

Fox Spirit 76 – Fraying Family Ties

Sara

December 2000

At the thought of giving up Richie Sara’s throat tightened. “I was thinking he would come back when he’s old enough to start kindergarten. I could come for a couple of weeks then, to smooth the transition.”

            “Kindergarten! That’s two more years,” Mark protested.

            “Well, maybe the summer before kindergarten, then. And we’ll come back before then for visits of course.”  She rushed on before Mark could interrupt. “He’s getting such a good experience in his Chinese school. He has lots of friends, he loves going, the teachers love him, and the cost is almost nothing since I help as an English resource.“

            “Ok, so he’s got a good life with you. But I’m serious, Mom, about planning. What am I going to say on New Year’s Day when Richie and I get together with the Cavallos again and they ask when will be the next time?  You’ve talked about building a bridge, but when I say he’s gone to China with you that’ll be like dropping a bomb on it. You got me to open the door, you can’t leave me with no answers. And he’s MY son. You remember that. He needs to know he has a father who hasn’t abandoned him.”

            Abandoned.The word stopped Sara in mid-thought. For a moment she remembered Storm’s face as he talked about how his parents had left him locked in the root cellar, Ruth Cheng’s face as she explained why it had happened. She thought of her life with Storm and Richie, the apartment which had become a home. How would Storm feel when Richie left?  How would he feel if she left him?

            She wondered suddenly what life Mark had been building for himself since Rennie died – he hadn’t offered to introduce her to any friends; there was no hint of any new outside interest. Had he felt abandoned?  Was he as angry as Storm had been?  She pushed the thought away. Mark had wanted Richie in a safe place, he had said so. And she would bring Richie back. She would have to. But Storm – she would deal with that later. She would prepare him somehow.

            “Mom, are you still with me?” Mark’s voice brought Sara back.

            “No – I mean, yes, Mark. I’m with you.”  She looked at Mark as if for the first time. He wasn’t her boy grown large. He was Richie’s father. He was her partner in ensuring Richie’s welfare. He was her rival for Richie’s love – but no, she pushed that thought away. He was still her child.

             “I’m always with you, Mark. And of course you never would abandon Richie. You gave him to me for safe-keeping.”  To her relief, Mark nodded. He trusted her. She resolved to make more space for him somehow in her Beijing life to keep that trust alive.

Storm

            As Storm waited in the new terminal of the Beijing International Airport, he tried to reconstruct Sara’s face, her voice, in his mind, and the picture refused to come into focus. Almost a month, emails full only of the travel, the child, her son… would she have changed inside, where it counted?  He scanned the travelers pushing or pulling their laden carts through the customs exit – a tailored businessman dragging his small carry-on behind, an anxious-looking older woman bundled in a thick scarf and hat, balancing a peevish child on top of a pile of baggage, a trim young woman equally bundled, click-clicking across the vinyl floor in her high heels…the flood slowed to a trickle, then stopped. But where were Sara and Riqi?

            Had he missed them in the new terminal?  Had they missed the flight? He turned to survey the airport lobby, festively decorated for the New Year, its broad space open to the chill outside. Most of the travelers had been met, or had hurried off to arrange their own transport back to the city center. The woman with the child had not been met; he watched as she set the child into the small seat on the cart and shrugged fatigue from her shoulders.  Then she pulled the hood of her coat back from her head, with a gesture whose familiarity stabbed through him like a knife. She took off her woolen cap, the copper hair blazed in the light, the scales fell from his eyes and he recognized his love.

Spring 2001

Sara

            Sara watched with mingled relief and concern how easily Richie returned to being Riqi. He seemed to have put aside the memories of looking for his mother through all the rambling rooms of Daddy’s house, and of the furry-faced man in the furry red suit, and of the big park with funny skinny trees with pompoms on the top. And so Sara put aside the memories of Ynez Cavallo and Mark’s questions about Richie’s return.

            When Storm was traveling, Jerry Wang and Silver Wing would often invite Sara and Richie over to watch their television and VCR. Silver Wing would go out of the way to find a children’s movie that Richie could watch, or a Western movie with Chinese subtitles that they could all understand. In March she found a copy of “The Wizard of Oz” in   a market stall. But after seeing it Richie woke up in the night crying. “Nai Nai! Nai Nai! The monkeys are coming!

            Sara rushed to cuddle and reassure him. “It was only a movie on TV, Richie. The flying monkeys are only pretend.”

            “But I saw them on TV. And I heard them coming to get me!” He clung to her.

            “Richie, what is on the TV is not real, it’s just pretend, a made-up story”

             Richie seemed to quiet, then his face crumpled again and he began to cry with even greater abandon.

            “Now what’s the matter?”

            “I want a real daddy,” he wailed,” not just made up on TV!”

            “No, Richie,” Sara protested. How had this twist happened?   “You know Daddy is real. We talk to him every week. He asks you about things and he answers your questions. He’s real. Don’t you remember?”

            “But he’s only on TV. I want a real daddy!”

           

Sara didn’t know what to say. “Richie, the computer is not TV. The computer is like a phone. There is a real person on the other side. You can say things to Daddy and he will say something back. You can’t do that with a television. Remember when you showed Daddy a picture you drew and he told you how much he liked it – you can’t do that with a television.”

            Richie still clung to her, his sobs gradually quieting. At last he slept again. The next morning he said nothing about the night’s disruption, and Sara thought it was forgotten as part of his dream until she called Richie to come for the weekly call.

            “No. I don’t want a daddy on TV. I want a real daddy. Uncle Cheng can be my daddy.” He refused to come within camera range. Mark made no comment on Richie’s absence. Sara hoped he hadn’t heard.

###

Sara and Storm were relaxing in the cool of a late spring evening, together under a sheet, talking and stroking each other after love-making. Richie was visiting Auntie Silver Wing; they could be gloriously idle.

            “I wonder,” Storm said, “after you are gone, how I will be able to love a Chinese woman. I think love for me will always be fiery-glowing hair, pale skin, soft curves. I do not think I will be able to love black hair, golden skin, bones and angles. I will have to become a monk.”

            “A monk? Your parents won’t like that. Your mother would never forgive me.” Sara struggled to catch her breath, to keep a light tone. The words ‘after you are gone’ had chilled her. How could he speak so carelessly of her leaving, of loving another woman? When she had talked of it before he had rebelled at the thought. Had something changed?

            Her answer had darkened, not lightened Storm’s mood. “I have no mother,” he said roughly, his eyebrows coming together under the shock of dark hair. “I was abandoned by my blood parents and my true mother, Hope Du, is long dead. I owe nothing to the woman I call Ma.”

            Sara thought of Ruth Cheng’s face twisted with regret as she had told Sara how she had to protect Storm by pretending he wasn’t hers, of her fear of discovery, of her sorrow at having to leave him behind when the opportunity to go to Beijing was given her. But she had promised Ruth not to tell Storm they had met.

            “Storm, I think maybe you wrong your mother. You haven’t heard her side of what happened. Maybe there were reasons.”

            “She left me!” he interrupted, his voice harsh. “She and my father left me like unneeded baggage, to be picked up later when convenient! I can’t forgive them. How can you excuse this?

            “All this talk of leaving,” Sara forced a smile, trying to move the conversation away from Storm’s parents.  “I at least have no plan to leave you any time soon, no matter how many golden-skinned, dark-haired girls are eyeing you.” Her own words stabbed at her as she went on.            “One day, perhaps, you will find a slim, small, graceful girl like a willow tree and lose yourself in her.” Sara hated that small, graceful girl, even as she forced a smile into her voice.

            “But first I would have to find the self I have lost in you, my heart’s core. When you leave, will you promise to leave my soul behind?” He buried his face in her neck and held her. She could feel her heart beating against his, tried to match its beats with her breath. Leaving him was too difficult to speak of. Life without him was too hard to imagine. What had put it into his mind? What had made her give him such an answer? She pulled him closer, stroking the back of his neck.

            “Still you talk of my leaving,” she murmured. “There’s nowhere else I want to be, no one else I want to be with. ‘After I am gone’ is a long time away, I promise you.”  He muttered something she didn’t catch and turned to close her lips with a kiss.

Fox Spirit 75 – One Hurdle after Another

Mark stayed hunched over his wine glass, peering into it as if his answer was swirling inside. Then he leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I don’t know, Mom. I knew Richie was safe with you. But now he barely knows I’m his dad. That hurts. Part of me wants you to leave Richie here with me, but I’d need some time to set things up for him. And it would be hard for him without you to help smooth the change. And I don’t get the feeling you want to leave China.”

            He paused and looked at Sara with a question in his eyes, then nodded at the answer he saw in her stiffened face. “Okay, one step at a time. The situation with the Cavallos – I guess you’re right. I can’t keep being a watchdog forever. What’s your plan?”

            Sara shivered at the memory of Ynez Cavallo’s face, then took a deep breath and straightened her spine. If I can face down a roomful of Shanghai investors, I can face down Ynez Cavallo. Just imagine Ynez in a poodle suit. Imagine them all in poodle suits.She looked at Mark, waiting expectantly. He did look a little like a poodle, waiting for Sara to throw a ball for him to fetch.Her lips twitched into an involuntary smile and she plunged ahead.

            “What would you think about inviting the Cavallos, Ynez and Giovanni and Larry, to meet us in the park the day after Christmas to meet Richie?  We could have a picnic, or call it a playdate…what do you think?”

            Mark stared at her in disbelief. “Have you gone crazy? You saw how she looked, heard what she said at the mall… she looked half out of her wits.”

            “From grief, Mark. I can’t stop thinking about it – what if it had been you dead and me not able to see Richie? I’d be a wreck too. We should give them a chance.”

            “I can’t believe this is you talking, Mom. You’re the one who flinched at every sideways glance, who went to Beijing to hide. You were dodging Rennie and now you want to put yourself open to her family? You wanted to protect Richie from them after Rennie died and now you want to throw him in their way?”

            Sara bit back a protest. Mark and Rennie hadn’t needed her. Rennie hadn’t wanted her around. But she couldn’t blame Rennie now. She forced her voice to be level. “I was afraid. And  I was angry. Both times. Now I’ve stopped being angry. And I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want you to be afraid. We have to try to fix this.”

            “And you think a picnic will make everything all right? You’ve been reading too many issues of The Ladies’ Home Journal, Mom. There’s no quick fix here. No sunshine pixie dust, no spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.” He set down the wine class hard and looked surprised as the stem broke in his hand.

            “Not a quick fix, Mark, but at least a start. When Richie comes back for good, he has to be able to go outside to play without a bodyguard. Let’s try.”

            Mark cocked an eyebrow at Sara and pursed his lips. “I’d thought you’d forgotten Richie was ever coming back for good.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. He picked up the two pieces of the broken glass and rose from the sofa. He turned back at the kitchen door. “Okay, Ms. Peacemaker, you lead, I’ll go along. Will you be calling them tomorrow?  I’ll be watching for mushroom clouds on the horizon.”

            Sara watched him down the corridor to the bedroom, then turned to look for Mark’s address book. She would start with Larry. First thing tomorrow. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

            Christmas morning, and Sara had pushed all thoughts of the Cavallos aside. “Oh no, it’s a gadget!” she moaned theatrically, as she unwrapped her Christmas present from Mark. “I don’t trust anything that comes from an electronics store and is made of gray plastic!”

            “Mom, this is going to solve a problem,” Mark replied. “You are going to love this – and so will Richie. It’s a webcam. You can plug it into your computer and I’ll be able to see you on my screen – and I have one too so you and Richie can see me – no more freaking out if I grow a beard!”

            Sara looked at the little gray ball dubiously. “It looks like an alien Little Brother. But I’ll get used to it. Anything to preserve your freedom to be fuzzy!”  Mark grinned. Later, when Mark showed her how it worked, Richie clamored to see himself on the computer screen. It was the first time she had seen him go to his father without prompting or dragging Sara in his wake. She felt a pang of jealousy, but smothered it. Richie needed to know his dad. This was a good thing.

               The day after Christmas Sara waited with Mark and Richie at the local park, scanning arriving cars for the Cavallos. She had dressed with care, even scavenged the discount store on Christmas Eve for baggy slacks and a sweater in navy blue, her least flattering color. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun low on her neck. She thought she looked as unattractive as possible. There would be no tempting of Giovanni into even the mildest flirtation, no flare-up of jealousy from Ynez.  Richie, not Sara, was the focus this time.

            The object of her concern was playing happily in the sand underneath the picnic table with a new Tonka truck. “Look, Nai Nai!”  Sara glanced down to admire the pile of sand he had managed to scoop together and when she looked up again the Cavallos had arrived. They were struggling out of Giovanni’s black sedan, all three laden with presents.  

            Giovanni was the first to reach the sandbox and bent down to admire the trucks. Richie backed away, looking at Sara for reassurance about this stranger in his space. “It’s all right, Richie. This is your grandfather, nide Yeye. He knows a lot about trucks.”          

            Richie began to talk, shyly at first, about the road he was building. Ynez stood by for a moment, then seized her husband’s shoulder. “We have our presents for him. We have a truck. Let him open our presents.”

            Sara viewed the tower of gift-wrapped boxes with dismay. So much at once. Richie would be confused, overwhelmed. The meeting would end in a meltdown. She turned to Larry Cavallo and asked him with urgency in her low voice, “Larry, is there a book among those presents?  That’s what Richie would like best when he’s finished showing off his trucks. Your mother could read to him. He loves that. He would sit with her while she reads to him. Can you manage that?  Then your father could have a turn with a different present – one at a time. Can you help?”

            Larry nodded quickly and took his mother’s arm, murmuring in her ear as Giovanni hesitated between his wife and his grandson.

            The rest of the morning went smoothly. Each of the Cavallo grandparents took a turn with Richie, opening a present, then playing for a while, then handing him off after fifteen minutes or so. Somehow they managed to pass more than two hours without either Ynez or Giovanni actually speaking to Mark or to Sara – it was as if they were alone with Richie, with Larry standing by as a facilitator and Sara and Mark behind an invisible curtain whispering prompts. Only after the picnic lunch of sandwiches and juice packs, when Richie was beginning to wilt from the strain of so much adult attention, did Sara step in to declare naptime. Ynez and Giovanni stared at her blankly as though she had appeared magically out of a soda bottle. Before they could protest, Larry intervened.

            “Yes, I can see Richie needs a break. Maybe we can do this again in a few days? New Year’s Eve day?  Would that work for you?”  He looked from Sara to Mark, uncertain. Sara hesitated, then stepped back. Larry and Mark had been friendly once. “It’s up to Mark.”  She turned and began to gather the presents and lunch leavings.

            Sara expected no resistance a few days later when she said casually over the breakfast table, “I’ll need to pick up some things for Richie before we go back to Beijing next week.”

            Mark set his cup of coffee down. “I think we should talk about when Richie is coming home to stay. How are we going to manage that?

Fox Spirit 74- Other Points of View

“Is that my nephew?” Larry called out. “Is that little Richie?” Sara looked around for help, but Santa’s helper was already lifting another toddler onto Santa’s lap with the undivided attention of its mother. A second elf held open the gate of the picket fence surrounding Santa’s Workshop, motioning impatiently for Sara and Mark to exit with Richie. Ynez and Larry stood waiting just beyond the gate.

            . Sara looked around, desperate for an alternative way out. “Look, Richie!” She turned his head away from the elf. Across the fence was a train track, with little trains purring along it, while tiny skaters whirled electrically on a miniature ice rink, a tiny Christmas tree twinkled, and miniature carolers sang recorded songs. It was a delightful display, irresistible to small eyes and ears, and standing next to it to keep small hands from interfering stood a security guard.

            Sara elbowed Mark and jerked her head toward the train display. Richie was already making eager noises, so it looked quite natural that Mark would pick him up, step right over the low fence and put Richie down right next to the guard’s side. Sara in her turn smiled at the elf minding the gate and swept through, stopping only when the gate was closed behind her to greet Ynez and Larry with a great show of surprise. She also was careful to keep herself between the Cavallos and the trains. If they wanted Richie, they would have to run over her first.

            Ynez made no attempt to counterfeit courtesy. “So you’ve brought him back,” she hissed at Sara. “You kidnapper. Your son, too. He learned murder from you, didn’t he?  My daughter… she suspected. She confronted you. She told me… and then she died. How did he manage it, your son?  He did it for you. You killed my daughter. And then you took my grandson, all I had left of her.” Her voice rose from a hiss to a wail.

            Larry Cavallo moved quickly to put an arm around his mother. “Mom, you weren’t going to do this. Not this way. We’ll never see Richie this way.”  The fixed smile was gone as he turned to face Sara. “She’s not herself. She’s been sick.” He pulled Ynez closer, as she began to sob. “Losing my sister… losing Richie… if she could only see Richie, maybe…” He stopped as he took in Sara’s white face, her frozen eyes. “But no. You wouldn’t do that. You would have to be kind to do that.”

            Sara flinched at the anger in Larry’s voice. She tried to speak, to defend herself, but no words came.

            “I’m not saying you’re a murderer,” Larry went on. “I believe my sister died in an accident. Your husband… that’s between you and God. But I’ve never seen a sign of kindness from you. I hope little Richie has someone to learn kindness from, wherever it is you keep him.”  Larry took a long look across the store aisle. Richie was jumping up and down with excitement at the trains. The security guard was lazily answering a question from Mark.

            “Come on Mom.” He led Ynez away. Sara stood without moving, paralyzed by the vision of herself she had seen in Larry’s eyes. What if it had been Mark dead and no Richie in her life? Then she remembered – that had been Ynez’s threat, to take Richie. What right did they have to expect kindness from her?

            Sara walked along a leafy street, holding Richie’s hand. Richie was holding tight, as he had done when he was first learning to walk. Then he changed. He grew taller, walked confidently, tugging at her hand. His hair was darker, more like the children he played with at the Children’s Palace. Then ahead of them a woman wrapped in a cape appeared from behind the trees. The dream Richie let go of Sara’s hand and ran to the stranger, who stooped down to meet him. The stranger lifted her head and Sara recognized Ruth Cheng. She murmured softly to Richie in Chinese “My little son. I never knew you. You came back to me too late.” She buried her face in Richie’s hair and then stood up, still holding his hand. She glanced back at Sara, but this time the face of the stranger was Silver Wing. “Forgive me, I have wanted a son for so long.” She swept Richie up in the folds of her cape, turned to go, and looked back once more with the face of Ynez Cavallo. A gust of wind shook the trees and they were gone just as Sara cried out “No, Richie!” and sat up in her bed, staring at the window curtain snapping in a gust of wind.

               After the encounter at the mall, whenever Sara left the house she found herself glancing up and down the street to see if anyone was waiting in a parked car. Mark, without mentioning it, was also maintaining watch. The strain of constant alertness made then both more irritable and Richie, reacting to their tension, more whiny and demanding. The house seemed haunted by Cavallo ghosts.

            Two evenings before Christmas Sara could stand the tension no longer. Richie had settled whimpering into sleep and Mark was brooding over his third glass of wine. “Mark, we can’t go on like this. We have to face the Cavallos down. We can’t keep on being poised to run every time we walk out the door.”

            Mark’s wine hadn’t done anything to promote his Christmas spirit. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered.

            “What do you mean?”

            “You ran when Dad died. You took Richie and ran when Rennie died. You can take Richie and run back to Beijing if you want.”

            Sara stared at her son. She had thought it was pride that drove her to Beijing. Did her son see it as cowardice? Her voice quivered as she managed to answer “It seemed like the right thing at the time. We both thought I should take Richie.” And then, a new question for her: “What do you think now?”   She waited, dreading what he might say.

Fox Spirit 73 – Christmas Culture Clash

December 2000

Storm

            The Jiu Jin Shan Wine Shop was even more crowded than usual, as though every bachelor in Beijing had decided to take refuge there against the biting winter wind. Storm pushed through the crowd and spotted Trueheart Zhang sitting alone in the corner booth. He felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his friend. Since Sara had left for California he had been alone too many nights.

            “You’ve managed to save an entire booth for the two of us! Good work, Zhang!”           Trueheart smiled and brushed aside the praise. “I arrived soaking wet from a passing limo’s splash. Nothing like a wet raincoat spread out to dry to ward off invaders. Get yourself a beer and relax – I’ve no plans to go back into that wind until I’m thoroughly warm.”

            On his return, supplied with a Tsing Tao beer, Storm stretched  out his legs and arms to take up as much room as possible. “This is good,” he sighed. “If life could be as simple as a warm room, a cold beer, and a friend to talk to…”

            “Ganbei,” replied Trueheart, lifting his mug. “I only wish Liu were here to share this. I’m afraid he’s got none of those things, unless Jade has managed to link up with him.”

            “You had to mention Liu, just as I was feeling mellow.”

            “Yes, I had to. I’ve been pulling every string I can lay hands on to find a way to get him out of the Reform Through Labor Camp and I’m coming up with nothing. Are you sure your grandfather can’t be persuaded to help?  Isn’t there something he wants that we could get for him? Some secret wish? Something we could trade?”

            “You must be joking. My grandfather is ninety years old – anything he could ever have wanted he either has already enjoyed or is too old to enjoy. The only thing he has left to want is a great-grandson and we can’t pull one of those out of a hat in time to help Liu.”

            “A great-grandson? The ‘four generations under one roof’ thing?” Trueheart lifted a finger as if to say something, then let it drop. He picked up his half-smoked cigarette from the table’s ashtray, then stubbed it out, staring at the ashes. Then he shrugged. “Well then, if he won’t help, he won’t. I’ll keep checking, and if you hear anything from Jade through Scarlet Li, maybe we’ll get some ideas.”

            “Like what?  Usually you would keep nagging at me like a dog with a bone, Zhang. What are you thinking?”

            “Nothing, nothing. Say, what do you hear from Sara?”

            Storm smiled. “If you want to change the subject, say so, Zhang. I know you’re more interested in Liu’s fate than in Sara’s adventures. But since you ask, she says in her emails that everything is fine in California. She doesn’t give any details, so I suspect maybe a few glitches here and there. Introducing a little kid like Richie back into a California lifestyle could be tricky.” He drained his mug. He didn’t want to think about Sara, or Richie, or Liu. Too many empty spaces in his life. “Hey, let’s go to the arcade next door. Bet I can skunk you at ‘Strike Fighter.”

Sara

            Storm’s suspicion was right. Richie’s re-entry to the California world wasn’t going well. Sara had prepared him to meet his Daddy, the real person behind the static-y voice on the weekly phone call, the person in the photograph Sara always put before him during the calls. But the person called “Daddy” who met him and Sara at the airport was nothing like the one Richie had seen in the picture that Nai Nai showed him. Mark hadn’t mentioned that he had grown a beard. No person that Richie had ever dealt with in China had a hairy face!  And it scratched!

            He had been put into his old crib asleep when they arrived, but the sunlight soon woke him. Richie climbed out of the crib, calling “Mama! Mama!  I’m back!”   He ran from room to room, calling “Mama, where are you? Why are you hiding?”

            Sara and Mark looked at each other in panic. Somehow they both had assumed he would have forgotten about Rennie in the months since her death. Mark caught Richie but the little boy screamed and fought. When Sara took him he collapsed in sobs. He could not be persuaded that his mother wasn’t hiding somewhere in the house.

            Sara had forgotten to pack Richie’s summer clothes for the Southern California winter. After only a few minutes playing outside, he was red-faced and sweaty, whining to come in. Sara made an emergency trip to the nearest Target to outfit him properly, but he complained that the new clothes were stiff and uncomfortable.

            He was introduced to his cousins at Uncle Jasper’s and Aunt Carol’s, but that didn’t go well either. No one except Nai Nai understood Chinese; they all talked English all the time. He had always spoken the best English of any child at the Children’s Palace, but it was like a different language here. His cousins spoke so fast, and used words Richie didn’t know, and laughed when he didn’t know them. He was two sentences behind all the time. No one knew how to play Forcing the City Gates. He didn’t know how to play Freeze Tag and he hadn’t seen Star Wars or Toy Story.

            Riche wanted his usual rice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He wasn’t used to cereal and milk – he had never had to drink so much milk!  He had been proud of his ability to eat with chopsticks like a grown-up at Auntie Silver Wing’s house. At Daddy’s house he had to eat with a fork. He stabbed his mouth with a fork and it bled.

            “He’ll get used to you,” Sara reassured Mark after Richie had pushed him away for the third time. “Of course, you could shave off the beard and mustache. He says you don’t look like the Daddy in the picture.”

            “Maybe I’ll get you a new picture,” Mark retorted impatiently. “And why won’t he talk to me in English?  You told me you always speak English to him.”

            “I do. He speaks English at the Children’s Palace too. But now he’s being stubborn – he only wants to speak Chinese. I guess it’s his way of being homesick.” As soon as she said it, Sara wished she could snatch back the words. Mark’s eyebrows had come together in an ominous line and his response was clipped.

            “Well, tell him that in America he needs to speak English. Tell him this is his home, even if his mother’s not in it. And I’m keeping the beard and mustache.” 

            Sara sighed.

            “And don’t sigh at me!” 

            At the mall, Richie revolted against having his picture taken with Santa. “That’s okay,” said the elf reassuringly, as Richie struggled to stay in Sara’s arms. “Lots of kids freak out when it comes to actually sitting on Santa’s lap. Can he have a lollipop?”

            “Yes.” “No.” Sara and Mark contradicted each other simultaneously. They broke into self-conscious laughter, while Richie sucked on the lollipop. Suddenly Mark’s expression changed; he moved to encircle Richie with his arms and half-lifted him. Sara turned to see Ynez Cavallo just outside the railing of Santa’s Workshop.

            Ynez had let her hair go. Wisps of gray escaped the untidy bun at the nape of her neck. She was thinner than Sara remembered; her coat hung a size too large, with the hem of her dress sagging below it. Her eyes were fixed on Richie as if he were the only other person in the crowded mall. Her lip curled into what might have been an attempt to smile, but to Sara it looked like a snarl, like a starving dog that had spotted a meaty bone just out of reach. Sara moved instinctively to block Richie from Ynez’s view.

            “Take Richie back to the car,” Sara murmured to Mark. “I’ll keep Ynez here.”

            “No,” Mark murmured back to her. “It’s safer here, with people.”

            “Safer?”  She looked up at him, startled, and only then realized that there was a second person with Ynez. Larry Cavallo had stepped up next to his mother, his face also set in an unnatural smile.

Fox Spirit 72 – November Clouds

November seemed endless. The elderly heating systems of the Bei Hai campus seemed powerless against the cold of an early winter. The wind drove the students, vendors, and even the neighborhood watchmen into the shelter of their homes and dormitories, leaving lifeless streets. In the dim light of the staggered street lights even the snow seemed gray.

            After the American election, it seemed everyone wanted to offer an opinion to Sara about the Bush-Gore election standoff. They would invariably nod and wink and say something like “Ah, it’s the son of a President and the son of a Senator. Of course when two princelings battle there will be a difficulty!”  Sara grew tired of explaining the Electoral College and the role of the Supreme Court. “We understand, Sara.” When the President’s son won out over the Senator’s son, they  nodded sagely.  “Just like in China – guanxi is everything.” 

            “I’m looking forward being to back to California for Christmas this year,” Sara told Storm as they left the office together to pick up Richie. “I’m so tired of winter and politics. And it will be fun to remind Richie about Christmas and Santa Claus.”

            “Do you want him to be so American?” Storm asked with a smile. “All this fuss I have heard about over Christmas … is it so important to believe in Santa Claus?  

            Sara was not amused. “Richie is an American!  I’ll have to take him back for school when he’s five; when he gets there he won’t know what anyone is talking about during holidays!  She darted ahead of him across the street toward the bus stop.

            Storm stopped dead, shocked at her revelation. Of course he always knew she would have to take Richie back to his father sometime, but now she had revealed a plan, a timeline. He pushed his dismay aside as he hurried to catch up with her.

            Later, after they had eaten and Richie was in bed, he opened the subject again. “Your trip to California for Christmas – you’ve made your arrangements? You will surely go?”

            “Yes, of course I’ll go, with Richie.” Sara looked at him with surprise. “I’ve always gone back to America at this time of year – why not this time?”

            “No reason.” He kept his eyes on the table where he was carefully stacking the soup bowls from dinner. “I thought perhaps there was still some danger from the other grand-parents, that you might need to stay here in safety as you did last year.”

            Sara shook her head “I believe it will be all right. The Cavallos wouldn’t risk taking him since the court has ruled.” Then her face clouded. “I am sorry. I just thought again of Liu. He had no trial. It’s a different system.”

            Storm felt a flash of irritation at the change of subject and couldn’t stop himself from arguing. “If Liu had had a trial, the outcome would have been the same. It would have been hard to prove his innocence, with video evidence that he was there at the demonstration. At least he has now a chance to show his good intentions by behaving well at the labor camp. If he hasn’t been stubborn, if he hasn’t insisted on adhering to Falun Gong, then…”

            “You are excusing the government!” Sara said in disbelief. “I don’t understand you, Storm!  No one could have been angrier than you when Liu was arrested and now you blame Liu? “

            “Always my anger was partly at Liu, for having put himself in the way of trouble. Now we can only hope he’s shown good sense since his arrest.”

            He stood up. “As you said, it’s a different system. I have read that in America the prisons are overflowing and still many criminals return to prison over and over. This doesn’t happen so much with us. We hope always for reform, to erase the person’s bad habits.”

            Sara rose to the challenge. “And yet China has a very high number of executions. How does the death penalty encourage reform?”

            Storm smiled and gestured with his hands palm down. “Ah, Sara, I’m not Zhang. I don’t love debate as you and he do. If a criminal is guilty of a serious crime, beyond the hope of reform, he’s executed quickly, not kept in prison year after year waiting for a second trial. I think this is better than what I have read about your Death Rows. But for tonight I don’t wish to leave you with an argument.”

            He put on his thick quilted jacket and turned to leave. At the door of the apartment he stopped. “Deng yi dianr. Wait a moment. I have something for you.”  A small red silk box appeared in his hand.

            Sara took the box in both hands, all impulse to argue gone. She stroked the silk box, eager to open it, but observing Chinese custom – a gift should never be opened in the presence of the giver, lest disappointment show on one’s face.

            “Thank you, my heart. I am embarrassed – I have never given you anything.”

            “Don’t be too polite.Open it. We use American manners.”

            Inside was a bi, a flat round circle of jade, the color of a new leaf, looped with a fine gold chain.

             “You told me, if I gave you something …”

            “I remember.”

            Sara took the bi from its box and said formally, “If you put it on, I will indeed wear it always.”   He took the jade pendant from her hands, carefully unfastened the clasp, then refastened it around her neck. His hands moved to her shoulders and he pulled her close. When he released her, he saw tears glistening in her eyes. Doubt seized him – were those parting tears?

            “You go to California. You will come back?

            “Of course I will!  Wait for me then.”

            The poem from Storm’s old screen saver floated up to the surface of his mind. He recited part of it as he held her at arm’s length for a moment. “You travel a ten thousand mile road to end my long waiting…’ but my life will be more like the dark of the moon after I have seen it radiant at the full. I will wait, but it will be very tedious indeed.”  He pulled her close again, then released her and left without another word.

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Photo courtesy of New York Intelligencer