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.

=======

Photo courtesy of New York Intelligencer

Fox Spirit 71 – Mending the Breach

July 2000

Sara

            “Sweet baby,” Sara murmured as her lips traveled down Storm’s neck, across his chest. “Sweet. Sweet…”

            Storm lifted her chin, smiling, laid a finger across Sara’s mouth. “Your mouth always so busy. Tell me with your hands.”

            Sara looked at him blankly for a moment, then laughed softly as she moved her hand against his cheek, down the back of his neck. He shivered and moved against her.

            ”Like that?”

            “Shhhh.”

###

            Later Storm fingered the gold chain around Sara’s neck. “Why do you always wear this necklace?”

            “My husband gave it to me when we were first married; it’s good luck to wear something given by someone who loves you’’’

            “Wo ye aiqing ni. I also love you.”

            Sara’s heart surged – he had learned to say that! She looked at him steadily. “If you give me something like this, I will wear it always.” 

            Storm’s fathomless eyes absorbed the promise. He nodded, then turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. “You know I quarreled with Zhang.”

            Sara did not know how to respond. When they were out of the office, bantering at the San Francisco Wine Bar, Storm and Trueheart always argued, always teased each other. What kind of quarrel was this?  She tried for a light tone:  “But I’m the one who quarrels with Zhang. How can this be?”

            He turned back toward her. “He said some things which I can’t forgive.”

             Sara tried again. “What things? After such a long friendship, so many arguments you have both enjoyed and survived…. There must be some way to repair…”

            “It was his choice to quarrel, “Storm interrupted her. “I won’t repeat what he said. He left with bitter words lying on the table between us. We won’t meet him on Wednesday’s again.”

            Sara’s first thought burst out: “How we miss Bright Liu! He would have calmed you both, found a way to soothe and mend – I wish he could have been there!”

            Storm rose on one elbow and took Sara’s hand. “Yes, we miss Liu. I’ve lost him, I’ve lost Zhang and I’ve lost Jade. You are now my closest friend as well as my love.”  He put his arm around her and drew her close. “You are my heart’s core. I must take great care of you.”

October 2000

Sara

            Scarlet Li beckoned to Sara as she entered the office. “Please, can you come into the meeting room for a moment?”  Sara followed her, wondering. Scarlet carefully closed the door and then motioned Sara to sit with her at the far end of the table, away from the door. Scarlet bent forward and said in a low voice, “I know you were good friends with Jade Wang. I’ve received a letter from her from Qiqihar City in Heilongjiang province. You know she went there hoping to find Liu, her duixiang. I think… it’s hard to tell, because she writes very carefully… I think she has succeeded in finding him.” 

            “Can you read to me that part of her letter?” Sara asked. “I can’t read Chinese script very well…”

            Scarlet pulled a plain white envelope from her pocket. “You see, the envelope has been opened more than once before it came to me. She did well to write carefully. These are her words:

            “‘My business in Qiqihar is going as well as could be expected. The partner I hoped to meet has been established here for almost a year, but has been too busy to meet with me yet. However I am forming other valuable connections and hope to have that meeting soon.

            “‘With great good luck this business could be concluded before the New Year. Otherwise I fear it will take much longer. The window of opportunity is only open a short time.’”

            Scarlet folded up the letter carefully. “Do you understand her meaning as I do? I believe she has confirmed Liu is at the Reform Through Labor Camp near Qiqihar, but she hasn’t been able to meet him.”

            “Yes,” Sara replied. “But what does she mean by saying she might be able, with luck, to conclude her business before the New Year?  Does she hope to marry Liu while he is a prisoner?”

            “No, I don’t think that would be possible,” answered Scarlet. “But when a person has been assigned by the police to be reformed through labor, he can be released after one year, if he has given up his wrong ideas. And, of course, if he has good guanxi, connections. The Reform Camp at Gunnan in Heilongjiang was established exclusively for Beijing residents, so there must have been some influence in his assignment. Perhaps influence might also free him after this first year.”

            “What influence?  What kind of influence?”

            “I don’t know. You know Liu better than I – perhaps his family?  Or his friends?  Whatever connections he has, this would be the time to use them for his good.”

            Sara hurried to her cubicle. Trueheart Zhang and Jerry Wang were visiting the bank manager this morning. Sara and Trueheart had spoken only about business in the office since his quarrel with Storm, but she put aside that worry, dialed Trueheart’s cell number and left a message, then the same for Storm. Then she waited. The afternoon brought only a quick message from Storm, that he would meet her after work at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine Bar. Sara asked Silver Wing to pick up Richie and dashed to catch the early bus.

            Storm met Sara at the bus stop across from the wine bar. “I saw Zhang go in ahead of me. Did you also send him a message about news of Jade and Liu?” 

            Sara nodded. Storm  looked down the street, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “We haven’t spoken in weeks. Perhaps you alone should meet him.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Sara answered.  “Zhang and I always quarrel. You have to be there to protect me from his stinging tongue.” For the first time it occurred to her that their quarrel might have been about her.   

            “Ah, but who will protect me?” Storm’s half-smile was a relief to Sara. If Storm could joke, then the quarrel might not be so deep after all.

            The hour was too early for there to be many customers at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine Shop and Trueheart was at their usual corner table. He rose as he saw Storm and Sara approach, then hesitated, as if he regretted beginning on such a formal note. Sara saw his nervousness and jumped into the silence.

            “Zhang, hao jiu bu jian zai zheli! Long time since we met here! I didn’t realize how much I would miss your sharp tongue out of the office!”

            “Sara, yes, too long a time.” Trueheart matched her light tone and then turned to Storm. “I also missed beating my head against your thick skull.” The look in Trueheart’s eyes didn’t match his light tone. Storm held out a hand, Trueheart took it. They all sat… the awkward moment seemed over.

            “We have Sara to thank for news of Liu,” Storm began. Trueheart’s eyes narrowed. Sara was suddenly sure. The quarrel was about me.  She jumped in to move the conversation back between the two men.

            “No, I only am a messenger. Jade is friends with Manager Li, Scarlet Li knew we are all friends with Jade and shared a letter with me since you both were out of the office. Now we really need your quick mind and good connections, Zhang.” 

            “My connections?” Trueheart waved away the compliment. Quickly Sara passed on her skimpy update and Trueheart leaned back in his chair. “So he is in the camp at Gannan, the camp for Beijing residents. Cheng, we’ve been foolish. It’s your connections we need, not mine.”

            Storm shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. My grandfather would not interfere for Liu. He has no sympathy for Falun Gong. He approves the government action against them without question.”

            “Ah, that’s too bad. As a veteran who fought with Deng Xiao Ping, suffered with Deng Xiao Ping during the Cultural Revolution, he would only have to lift a finger…”

            “I have asked and been denied.” Storm was even more decided. “The finger will not be lifted. I’ll try again, if I have an opening, but we can’t build our hopes on this flimsy reed.”

            “Very well,” Trueheart sighed. “At least, I’ll try to find out how it is that he was sent to Gunnan instead of one of the other re-education camps. Perhaps we can find a way to pull the same string again.”

Fox Spirit 70- Not Safe, Not Sound

May 2000

Storm

            Storm, Jade Wang and Trueheart Zhang elbowed their way through the crowd at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine bar, beer in hand, to find their corner table had been taken up by three young couples boisterously deriding the hapless Chinese men’s soccer team. They retreated to a vacant space at the end of the bar, Jade taking the last stool, while the two young men stood.

            “Good of you to come,” Trueheart said to Storm once they were settled. His voice was thick with irony. “Now that you are a family man, I know it is difficult for you to get away.”  He ceremoniously lit a cigarette and leaned back against the end of the bar.

            “I’ve been traveling,” Storm said defensively. “And the child was ill in April – a heavy cold. Then at the beginning of May Sara and I had the same cold – it was, as you say, difficult. Sara is still not feeling well else she would be here. ”

            “Ah, yes, the child.” Trueheart puffed again on his cigarette and then laid it down carefully. “This foreign child – how is it that you’re so involved?  I’d have thought this child’s presence would be a problem between you and Sara, but instead you’ve become so close that there’s no room for anything else – not the thickness of a postcard between you. Not even a postcard from Liu, I think.”

            “Have you heard from Liu?” Storm asked quickly.

            “I have heard of him, but not from him directly. I was hoping you or Jade might have had word from him.

            “What have you heard?” Storm interrupted.

            “Oh, you are interested!  Let me see, now what was it that my colleague told me?  It has been so long since you have mentioned Liu, I thought – you know, bu kan, bu xiang – out of sight, out of mind.”

            Storm scowled at Trueheart. “Stop being coy, Zhang. You sound like a neglected girlfriend complaining about lack of attention. What have you heard?”

            Trueheart smiled wryly. “Now that sounds more like you, Storm. I’d much rather you insulted me than made excuses. Only this I’ve heard through my father:  a memo was passed from the local police station concerning fifty-three adherents of Falun Gong who were detained for disturbing the peace related to an unauthorized assembly in April, saying that these detainees will be sent to Gannan in Heilongjiang province for re-education.”

            “Heilongjiang.” Jade’s face was pale. “So far to the northeast. Why would they send him there?”

            “If he is in this group, it’s actually good news,” answered Trueheart. “This Reform Through Labor camp is under the jurisdiction of Beijing, not the local government. It’s for Beijing residents only and not so many Falun Gong believers have been sent there. Could be he’ll be working in a heavy equipment factory; could be he’ll be working in the fields. Gannan County is too far west for the coal mines or the Daqing oil fields. . At least, he is not to go to Xinjiang in the farthest west. From there no one returns.”

            A small cry escaped from Jade and Storm made a gesture to silence Trueheart, leaving a sudden quiet at the end of the bar.

            Jade bent her head, covering her mouth with her hand. When she lifted her head her voice was calm and clear. “Bright and I are duixiang –engaged to marry. I’ll wait for him unless he tells me he is done with me. If he must make a new life in Heilongjiang, I’ll go to him there. Now let’s talk about something else; we’re done with this.”

               “But how can you…” Trueheart began. Jade cut him off.

            “I asked for another topic. There’s nothing more to say, unless we have news from Liu. Please, let’s leave this.”

            There was an uncomfortable silence, as each waited for another to speak. Then  Trueheart stirred lazily, voice again laden with irony. “Perhaps, Storm, you have brought some baby pictures? You can show us why you haven’t been with us for these months as we have been searching for news of Liu?  I’m very curious about this cuckoo you have taken into your nest.”

            Storm’s eyes flashed. “Enough, Zhang!  He is no cuckoo – he’s Sara’s ward. I also ask for another topic!”

            Trueheart stood up slowly. “You care for another man’s son; you bed another man’s wife. To me this sounds cuckoo. And there are too many topics placed off limits here. I’m taking my leave.” He ground out his cigarette, bowed formally to Jade, and disappeared toward the door.

Sara

            Two weeks later, Sara entered the office and found Silver Wing at the reception desk. “Is Jade ill?” she asked, already fearful of the answer.

            “Not ill, but gone.”  Silver Wing looked anxiously at Sara. “Boss Wang has allowed me to take her place, even though I don’t have her skills, don’t deserve… I hope you don’t mind. I know she was your friend…”

            “Gone!” Sara thought of Jade as she had been when they had last met at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine Shop, as they had all worried and wondered over the fate of Bright Liu. The quaver in her voice, the coldness of her hands. It had been weeks since Sara had been able to talk with her outside of the office. Sara had been sick, out of work for two weeks, and since her recovery somehow Storm had always put her off when she wondered about meeting with Trueheart and Jade. In the office Trueheart and Storm and Sara had always treated each other with careful politeness, not letting their friendship outside the office show. But she had heard from Storm that Bright had likely been sent to Gannan in the north. Had Jade followed? Would she be allowed to join Bright in Jinshan?  Would Sara ever know?

               Then she registered that the anxiety in Silver Wing’s voice was for a different reason. “Of course I am glad to see you here instead of a stranger, Silver Wing. It’s very lucky for us that you could come to help.”  Silver Wing smiled with relief and Sara hurried from the lobby to her cubicle, where she could stare at her computer screen and let her questions run free. How could Jade hope to find Bright when the government regulated all travel between cities? Even if the government let her travel, what good would it do? 

            Thank goodness she was American, not subject to the government – the worst they could do to her would be to send her back home. Her train of thought braked – it had been a long time since she had thought of California as “home”, but in this shifting quicksand of a country she felt how thin was the layer of safety which protected her.

Fox Spirit 69 – Safe and Sound?

Sara

March 2000

            Mark’s phone call at the end of March woke Sara from a sound sleep. 

            “Sorry to wake you, Mom, but I had to share the good news! I’m calling from the court house.” His voice was exultant. The custody case had been thrown out, the grandparents had no standing, and the father had complete guardianship. “But you should have seen Ynez Cavallo– if looks could kill I would be mincemeat.

            “I thought maybe Ynez and Giovanni would come up to me afterward and try to make nice, maybe try for visitation rights, but she was too furious even to speak to me.  It’s as if she blames me for Rennie’s accident, like I should have been the one going to get Richie that day, I should have been the one dead.”

            Sara’s stomach churned.  What if it had been Mark in the car? What if Rennie had been the sole parent?  She pushed the black thoughts away and  tried to keep her voice steady and her tone light as she responded to Mark’s exuberance. 

            “I should have been there to give you a hug, sweet, to counter those black looks. But if I’d tangled with Ynez, it might have made a bad impression on the judge. What did the judge say about custody exactly? Did you tell him where Richie is?”

            “The judge asked “Where is the child now?” and I just said ‘He’s staying with my mother. and he nodded.  He didn’t ask where you were.  He just said ‘Father has custody according to California law. If grandparents wish to have visitation rights, this should be arranged amicably with the father, not made subject to a suit.’  Then he banged his gavel and it was over.”

              Sara was shaking with relief.  Richie was safe! .

            “This is wonderful, honey.  I never really doubted… and maybe you can make it up with the Cavallos later…

            “Hah!’ Mark snorted with derision. “You didn’t see Ynez!” Then he hesitated, a note of uncertainty in his voice replacing the adrenaline-fueled exhiliration. “Mom… I don’t know but what if Richie was here Ynez would still try to snatch him.  Can I ask you… would it be too much… can Richie stay for a while longer? I saw you’ve got a good setup there. I don’t know how I would manage… I know it’s a lot to ask… I’ll send money…”

            “That won’t be needed,” Sara interrupted.  She took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep calm, keep herself from laughing out loud. Richie would be staying. “I’m happy for Richie to stay with me a while longer.  And everything is very inexpensive here.  Save your money.  You’ll need it later.” Sara’s voice stumbled. She was, unable to say the next phrase “for when he returns.” Too soon to think about that.Mark rushed on, not noticing the hesitation.

            “Let’s keep up our regular call time –Sunday at 5 PM your time?  So Richie knows who his Daddy is.  Tell him how much I miss him.  And I’ll send pictures – lots of pictures.”

            “Oh, Mark, we miss you too!” Sara felt a sudden pang of guilt at the loneliness she heard in Mark’s voice.  “I’ll take great care of him, you know I will.  And we’ll talk about you. Of course I won’t let him forget you.”  But another part of her brain was already busy planning. Everything Rennie had refused to listen to, everything Ynez had contradicted, everything she could have done better with Mark… she would have a free hand now!   Richie needed her – he had no mother.  He needed her more than Mark did.

            “Ok, Mom, I guess I’d better let you go. Thanks again, Mom, you’re the greatest.”

            “Yes!” Sara thought as she put down the phone. “For Richie, I will be.”

Richie

April 2000

Richie existed at the center of the universe – that was clear to him.  Everything he saw, felt, heard, smelled, tasted was put there for him to explore.  In response to this plenty, he was a fountain of pure feelings – pure unfettered delight if the taste was good or the voice was friendly, pure uncontrolled rage if anything hindered his explorations, pure fathomless woe if the exploration brought a painful bump or a scary surprise.

            Underlying, overlaying, permeating the universe was Nai Nai, his grandmother.  She was the source of tastes, words, smells, songs, warmth, coolness, softness, snuggles – and occasionally, not very often, she thwarted him.  This was the first hard lesson of life. Almost always Nai Nai echoed his desires, but when she did not the universe became dark and terrible.

            Once there had been Mama, holding the place now held by Nai Nai. But the transition of power was too confusing to remember, and now the two blended together in his mind, so it was hard to recall that Mama’s hair had been long and smooth and dark, while Nai Nai’s hair was curly and wayward and fire-lit.

            There had been Daddy too.  That memory was clearer, because Nai Nai had pictures and told stories about him.  Once in a while there was a voice on the telephone, but the voice was not very interesting without a face to go with it.  It was hard to pay attention, or to think of anything beyond “Hello!” to say when Nai Nai held the receiver to his mouth and directed “Say ‘hello’ to Daddy.”

            Uncle Cheng was much more fascinating.  Unlike most other large people, when Uncle Cheng talked with Richie he seemed to be paying complete attention.  He never broke off a conversation in the middle to talk to someone bigger.  He never laughed when Richie was asking a serious question, or looked around grinning as if he were sharing a joke on Richie.

In fact he did not laugh or grin much. Sometimes a small smile would curl the corners of his mouth.  When he did laugh, his whole face opened up and the mouth stretched so wide that you almost expected the ears to split in two pieces.  This always made Richie laugh too.

            Uncle Cheng was also very good when Richie wanted to be  picked up and carried.  Nai Nai would say “You’re so big now, you’re too heavy for me – let’s walk.”  Or “Let’s sit”.  But Uncle Cheng never hesitated to sweep Richie up to exciting heights the moment Richie extended his arms.  The best was when Uncle Cheng let Richie sit on his shoulders, because then he was the tallest instead of the smallest.  The world looked so different looking down from above instead of up from below!  He liked to assert his power by destroying the arrow-straight part in Uncle Cheng’s thick straight hair, moving random chunks of hair from one side to the other side of the line.

            Sometimes Nai Nai said “You’re so tall, be useful,” and gave  him a cloth to dust away the cobwebs on the ceiling.  He and Uncle Cheng would have a fine time chasing the spiders from their loftiest perches, bringing down their most complex constructions.  When they were done Nai Nai would take the webby cloth gingerly between two fingers and drop it ostentatiously in the laundry basket, at the same time congratulating the two hunters on their prowess.

            The Children’s Palace, where Nai Nai left him every weekday morning, was an important part of his universe. At first the other children crowded around him, fingering his curly hair and peering into his strange light eyes, making comments to each other that he couldn’t understand. But soon his Chinese was not worse than theirs, and they tended to forget Richie’s odd appearance.  He learned to blend in as the other children blended in, talking when he was supposed to talk, listening with hands folded when he was supposed to listen.  Only on the playground did the children’s high spirits explode, and Richie was always the fastest to the top of the climbing structure, where he again gloried in looking down on his world.

            Auntie Silver Wing came over to play with him whenever Nai Nai and Uncle Cheng went out together.  At first he did not like it when Nai Nai and Uncle Cheng left him, but Auntie Silver Wing was so fun!  She would get down on the floor to play with him.  She brought treats.  She never made him go to bed before he was ready.  If he was tired she would sing songs to him, or tell stories in her soft, quiet voice until he had drifted off.  She never was impatient like Nai Nai. She never had an edge to her voice telling him to hurry or they would be late.  And she was pretty, with long black hair, not like Nai Nai, with her tangly red curls.  Nai Nai did not look like any of the other children’s mothers.  This was hard to understand.  He only remembered when he saw Nai Nai with other mothers, or with Silver Wing, looking so different, that he was different too. But it was all right, because he was the center of his world.

Fox Spirit 68 – Return to Joy – and Fear

“Our return wasn’t easy.  We were married, so our first visit was to my husband’s family.  They were living in a large apartment, so much larger even than the home we had shared in Two Ox Village.  We knocked, and my mother-in-law came to the door.  She was thin and old; her hair was iron gray, her shoulders bent.  When she saw Ocean Wave, her face was full of fear – the last time she’d seen him he’d been among the Red Guards.  She called out to her husband, but it wasn’t a cry of joy, it was a call for help.

            “Father–in-law Cheng came quickly from the darkness behind.  He also was old and thin as a reed, but straight. Storm is like him. He had not been broken by the Red Guards. Maybe he learned to bend, or maybe he was protected from the worst of the tempest. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his thick glasses; they were like a mask with only his son’s reflection in them.  Ocean Wave went down on his knees; he koutou’d to his father, then to his mother.  Tears were on his face.  I had never seen his tears before. He hadn’t wept when our son was born, or when we left our son behind.

            “My mother-in-law was the first to speak.  She stooped over her kneeling son, pulled him by the shoulders. ‘No, child.  You must not.  This is Old Thinking.  Come, you must rise up.’ She tugged at him, and then looked at me.  I could still see fear in her eyes. She didn’t know who I was.  Would I report this behavior?  I could say nothing; Ocean Wave hadn’t yet presented me to them as his wife.  I didn’t know how I would be welcomed.  I was afraid, too. The mother-in-law can be very terrible to a young wife.  And this one had no hand in choosing me, so no face to lose if I didn’t please her.

            “Luckily, when Cheng told his parents my family names we found his father and mine had known each other. We had a connection, guanxi.  And  my mother–in-law had no spirit left in her for tyranny. But we still said nothing about their grandson.”  

            The next five years were a story of delay and uncertainty.  Life in Beijing had been hard. Food was scarce, with competition at the university intense. Ruth and her husband had kept the secret of their son from their parents while they struggled with urban life.

            “I thought of Storm every day, wondering if he was well, if he was hungry, if he was able to study, and most of all if he remembered me. We had sent packages and letters when we could, but heard so little in return from Two Ox Village.   In all those years , only a few notes.”  Mrs. Cheng paused. Unconsciously she had extended her arms, palms up, toward Sara, in the universal gesture of pleading.  Tears stood in her eyes as she fought for composure. 

            Finally, at a party to celebrate their joint graduation from university, their secret broke out.

            “At the party, my in-laws raised their glasses in a toast, saying ‘Now enough of studies; time to begin a new project – a grandson for us!’  Everyone clapped and shouted ‘Gan bei’ and drained their glasses.  I thought of Storm as I had last seen him, crying, reaching out for me.  I felt my face twist, felt tears stinging. Ocean Wave hurried over, hugged me, pressed my face into his shoulder to hide my tears, said something like ‘my wife, still so easily embarrassed’. He did his best to pass off the moment.  My father-in-law stepped in, made another toast to future prosperity, future office, all very traditional.  But he had seen.  And Ma had seen. And they had guessed.

            “I couldn’t keep Storm from his grand-parents. Once they knew of him, they were like tigers in their desire to see him.  We wrote carefully to Two Ox Village, asking to adopt the ‘son’ of the Hua’s.  If Uncle Hua and Auntie Du had refused, I do not know what we would have done.  But they were generous; they also wanted a better life for Storm.”

            Sara’s mind was whirling.  Storm’s parents had left him with Auntie Du – to protect him.  Mark had left Richie with Sara – to protect him. She could not help but see the parallels. Someday would Richie feel he had been abandoned by his parents? And the grandparents – she tried to imagine how it would feel if she discovered Mark had hidden a grandchild from her. How would that have gone with her? And why had Storm not heard this story?  Sara had unconsciously bent forward, striving to hear every low-spoken word from Storm’s mother.  Now Sara spoke carefully, formally, afraid of breaking the fragile understanding growing between them.

            “Please forgive my words from before, my sister Cheng. I spoke without knowledge, with no understanding.  What you tell me of your mother – my desire to protect my grandson is also like a tiger.  This I understand well.  Your fear…I have had a lucky life.  I can only imagine around the edges.  But believe me – I have betrayed no trust of yours, only helping my own son.”

            Ruth Cheng settled back in her chair. “I ask your forgiveness also.  We have both spoken hastily – so un-Chinese!”  She laughed nervously. “You will not tell Storm of our meeting?  I still hope to have this talk with him one day.”

            “Mei guanxi. It is of no concern, Mrs. Cheng. I would have spoken in the same way, if I believed as you did. But you must speak to Storm of these things – not ‘one day’, but soon. He has spoken to me of Two Ox Village – he feels bitterness, he does not understand why you left him, or why his parents in Two Ox Village gave him up.  It is a wound in his spirit which has not healed.”

            Mrs. Cheng sighed and nodded.  “I have hoped there would be a time when he would ask. From a mother to her son, some things are difficult to say, and the missing years are a wall between us. Perhaps….” She hesitated.  “Perhaps after all you could say something… something to open his heart to me, if you could. We are the same age; you also are the mother of a son….” Her voice trailed off.

            “If I can do this, I will.” Sara’s voice was firm, but in the back of Sara’s mind, some of Storm’s mother’s words still echoed.  The picture of life as a sent-downer in Two Ox Village – was this still true?  She thought of Happy Liu – would he be pulling turnips? Would he be hungry? Would he be struggled with to forswear his Falun Gong connections? Sara realized how little she knew of Chinese justice, and felt a chill.

Fox Spirit 66: Another Side of the Story

The Tully’s Coffee Shop chain had always seemed a bit bizarre to Sara, a knock-off of Starbucks set down in Beijing as if from a different planet, filled with bustling office-workers seeking a quick snack and a Western-style energy infusion. She saw Ruth Cheng at a small table at the rear of the shop, eyes scanning the shop as she stirred a cup of coffee.  Sara ordered the quickest and simplest coffee and joined her. 

            “So kind of you to come to meet me.  Please excuse my rudeness in asking on such short notice.  I am so sorry to be a trouble.” Mrs. Cheng was looking anywhere but at Sara.

            “Bu keqi” Sara cut off the ritual courtesies.  “You know I am always happy to talk with you, though we have not met often.  You must have some special reason to come into the city. It is good of you to make time to see me also.”

            Mrs. Cheng pressed her lips together and risked a quick glance at Sara. “No, no other reason.  I have come to see you only.”

            “I am honored, Mrs. Cheng.  Is there some reason?”

            “Yes.”  Mrs. Cheng hesitated, then started again. “It’s very awkward, but I must ask you.  I have heard there is a child.”

            Sara smiled. “You have heard correctly. There is a child, called Riqi.  Storm is very good with him.”

            Mrs. Cheng dropped her spoon and gripped the table with both hands.  Her voice was a hiss of anger.  “Wo mei xiang dao.   I cannot believe this. This is terrible.  You have betrayed me, betrayed my son!   How could you?” She leaned forward over the table.

            “I thought we understood each other.  You would teach Storm how to be with a woman – this is good; this he needs.  But of course I believed you would not have a child, that an older woman would know how to prevent one.  Now this! Storm can only have one child, you know; it is the law.  That must be with his wife, when he has one.   Now you have this child – you have betrayed my trust, you have betrayed our family.  What can we do?”

            Sara stared at Ms. Cheng.   She must have heard something garbled about Richie. But how could this woman speak to her of betrayal?  How dare she of all people claim a mother’s concern?

            “Ah.  I think I understand.”  Sara’s voice was cold despite the hot anger rising inside her.  “Whatever you heard about a child, you understood it wrongly.  He is not Storm’s child, not my child.  It’s not a problem for you.”

            Mrs. Cheng moved back only a millimeter. Her voice was sharp with disbelief. “But who is this child? Storm has been away from the house so many evenings. Then I heard about a child with you.  Why would he be interested in a child that is not his or yours?”

            “Not my son, but my grandson.  His mother died, and my son asked me to take care of their child. Storm is fond of children, you must know this.  It is no surprise that he enjoys Riqi.”

            “Aiyee!”  Relief swept over Mrs. Cheng’s face, followed by a wave of embarrassment. “Please forgive me, Mrs. Miller.   You know it was concern for my son only that made me speak to you as I did.  He is our only son, our future.  Please excuse a mother’s anxiety.”

            Sara could not hold back her resentment and contempt. “A mother’s anxiety?  I am surprised to hear you say this.  You showed no such anxiety when you abandoned Storm Cheng to be raised by peasants in Two Ox Village!”  She heard the anger in her voice, knew it was un-Chinese, saw the flash in the eyes of her opponent, braced herself for the riposte, and still was unprepared when Ruth Cheng sprang to her feet, almost knocking over the chair.  Her words came so quickly that Sara could barely follow her words, so forcefully that she could barely catch her breath.

            “So, Storm has told you his story – from his point of view!  Maybe you also have understood wrongly!  Did he say he had ever asked for the truth?  Did he say he had ever talked with his father or me?  If he said so, he lied!  He knows nothing. He was sheltered. He was protected. And you judge me from what a child has seen and known?  What do you know of what was risked for him?  What do you, Miss American Foreigner, know of fear?  You are as sheltered as he, although you claim to be a grandmother.  Until you have risked your life to save your son, you may not judge me!”

            Sara’s surprise fought with her temper.  Her siding with Storm had been so automatic, the thought of another side of the story had not occurred to her.  Still, how could Storm have been wrong? How had his life been ‘saved’ by his parents’ deserting him? She replied stiffly, “Mrs. Cheng, it’s true that I have heard only Storm’s account.  I am ignorant.  Please sit down again.”

            Ruth Cheng was breathing hard, her eyes bright with anger and unshed tears.  Slowly she sat down, lifted her coffee cup, and sipped.   Finally Ruth Cheng spoke, carefully choosing her words as if she were offering a lecture, in contrast to the emotional storm which Sara had just seen.

            “I don’t know how much you know of the last thirty years in China, the years of Storm’s life.  Since you’ve become his great friend, maybe you can help him understand his fate.  This would be good for all of us, I think.  So I will try to tell you.  It will be hard – these are things that we don’t speak of. You will understand once you’ve heard…. “

            She took another sip of the coffee, then carefully set the cup down and folded her hands in her lap.  Her eyes went back and forth from the cup to Sara’s face.

            “First, you must know something of my class background.”

            Sara hid her surprise.  What did Ruth Cheng’s class background have to do with her abandoning Storm? She took a breath and chided herself.  Don’t start debating. Hear her story first. 

            Mrs. Cheng leaned forward again; her face was very near Sara’s now. Her anger was no longer visible, but her voice was muted, so that Sara had to lean even closer to hear. 

            “Our parents – Mr. Cheng’s and mine – were all labeled ‘bad elements’ during the Ten Years Turmoil – you call it the Cultural Revolution, maybe.  My husband’s father had been with Deng Xiao Ping on the Long March. He thought he was safe, but when Deng was denounced, Cheng’s father also was struggled against. My husband’s mother taught music on the violin and piano; these were Western instruments, and she taught Western music. They were denounced as rightists, and their own son had to participate in the ‘struggle sessions’ or be denounced himself. Still, Cheng’s parents were luckier than some.  They were not beaten badly or tortured, only humiliated. They had some powerful friends in the Party who must have helped to protect them.

            “My own father would probably have been denounced too for Old Thinking, but he had already died.  My mother was a doctor, working at a health clinic in Beijing.  She was allowed to practice medicine, but only with the supervision of a party member. Medicines were few, hygiene was difficult. If the patient lived, it was because of Mao’s right thinking and the correctness of the Communist supervisor. If the patient did not recover, it was because of my mother’s rightist loyalties, Western training and Old Thinking.  Many times she was beaten when a patient died. 

            “It is hard to speak of what happened in those years.  Cheng had finished high school and was ready to start university; I had nearly finished high school.  We did not know each other then.  We had both been highly ranked in our class, but we were children of rightists.  We had to prove ourselves to be dedicated Communists in order to be part of the Red Guard. We did things that I can’t talk about.  Our education was what we learned on the streets and from the Red Guard mobs.  Sometimes we fought other students who claimed to be more devoted followers of Mao.  Really we were nothing but street gangs.

            “Then came a change. Mao mandated the Down to the Countryside Movement. All the youth in the large cities – Beijing, Shanghai, Nanjing, Guangdong, Jinan, Chengdu –were sent to the remote provinces.  Mao said that the students should ‘learn from the peasants’.  Maybe the real reason was to break up the Red Guards, stop the disruption.  History changes with the writer.”

            “So you were sent to…?”               

“To Anhui. To a small village called Two Ox Village.” 

Fox Spirit 65 – Turning Points

夜采千星落， 风集万巷呼

传灯追晓日， 来证此生殊

          -陈立强

The night lets fall a thousand stars.

Through myriad streets a fresh wind screams.

The torch is passed; the dawn appears.

Now show this life can match our dreams.

             -Chen Li Qiang (2000)

December 1999

Sara

            “We have to decide about welcoming the New Millennium,” Scarlet Li announced. “Boss Wang has set aside some money from the office account so we can celebrate together in hope of our prosperity in the Golden Dragon Year. We must think together –any ideas?

            “We should go to the Great Wall,” suggested Chief Engineer Shi. “There’s going to be a display of fireworks going on all along the Great Wall to mark the Millennium, all the way from Jiayuguan in the northwest to the ocean at Laolongtou. This will happen only once in our lives – we should be part of it. We could rent a van and driver and go together.”

            “There will be crowds,” objected Trueheart Zhang. “We’ll be lucky to get even close to the Wall.”

                        “Still it’s once in a lifetime,” Shi persisted. “And this will be China together with the world – a great event.”

            “If it works!” scoffed Gateway Tang. “Haven’t you heard about the Millenium Bug? We won’t be able to drive to the Great Wall if all the traffic signals are affected. We’d do better to order a banquet and watch on television, if there is anything to watch.”

            “If the systems fail, then the television will also have problems,” commented Scarlet Li. “A banquet, it is true, can be relied upon.”

            “Mei wenti, no problem.” Shi was not deterred. “This is only a Western bug. The old Western systems are still running on ancient computer languages like COBOL. For once we have the advantage over America. We have no systems that are so old, so no problem with this bug.”

            Sara caught Storm’s eye across the room. They had talked of something special between them to celebrate the new millennium. He smiled and shrugged, palms open. He would follow her lead. She wanted to be part of the celebration, whatever it was. She had spent too much of what should have been Christmas feeling left out. She plunged into the discussion.

            “Even if we end up in a traffic jam,” she said, “it will be a once-in-a-lifetime traffic jam that we can all talk about together. We could bring the banquet with us in the van –it will be cold at the Great Wall at midnight in winter, so it would be good to have our own warmth.”

            Shi smiled in answer to her support. “I’ll look at getting a van and a banquet to go along. Manager Miller, perhaps you can bring your songs from the Children’s Palace. If we’re stuck in a traffic jam, you can entertain us.” Amid general laughter and comment, the plan was set.

            But what about Richie?  Sara abruptly remembered the new complication in her life. She couldn’t take a toddler along on such an expedition. And who would be willing to watch over him on such a night? Everyone in Beijing would be celebrating. Perhaps one of the mothers from the Children’s Palace would help, but she had not really gotten to know any of them well enough to ask such a favor. Maybe Scarlet Li knew someone.

            Sara had just begun to phrase a request when the phone rang at her desk. It was Silver Wing. “Sara, I’ve heard from my husband about the plan for the Millennium. I don’t like crowds, and don’t want to go to the Wall. Maybe I could take care of Richie for you so that you can enjoy the celebration?  He would be company for me.” Sara sighed with relief, even as she began the ritual “Oh, no, you are too kind, it is too much trouble.” She wondered in the back of her mind what other issues lay ahead in her role as foster mother, but resolved to think about it all later.

            The Millennium arrived as predicted. There was a traffic jam. The crowds were enormous. The night was cold. But the food in the van was delicious. The van was full of laughter. There was no sign of the Millennium Bug. And the fireworks were spectacular.

            The group from Rainbow Software linked arms and scrambled up the rough stairs to the highest tower on the wall, a half mile from the access stairs at Badaling. From there they could see the fireworks surging along the wall from west to east in the form of a golden dragon, accompanied by drums and cymbals at every tower along the wall. As the dragon grew larger and closer, the cold wind brought the tang of sulphur fumes from the exploding gun powder. The close-packed crowd was cheering, waving, swaying back and forth as they sang the “March of the Volunteers” and “The East is Red.” Sara did her best to hum along.

            Storm stood next to Sara holding her arm and protecting her from the press of the crowd. In the anonymity of the crowd she snuggled close, feeling the rough wool of his jacket against her cheek. His head was high as he sang the National Anthem. Around her the others from Rainbow Software were singing also, even self-conscious Gateway Wang. Sara was swept up in the pageantry. She thought of the last time she had heard such crowds, when they had been protesting the Kosovo embassy bombing. Then she had been on the outside, caged in her apartment for her own protection. Now she was part of the throng, sharing in their joy. Perhaps, after all, this could be her life. Then she felt the pull of someone’s gaze and, straightening, she caught Jerry Wang’s disapproving glance. Be careful. She must remember to be careful.

January 2000

Sara

            A few weeks later Sara received an unexpected call at her office from Ruth Cheng.  Her voice sounded tense and strained.

            “Duibuqi, Mrs. Miller, I hope not to trouble you too much.  Please, can we talk? Can we meet?  Perhaps we can have coffee?  There is a shop not far from your office? Not too inconvenient for you?”

            “But of course, Mrs. Cheng.  There is a Tully’s coffee shop a few blocks down the street from our office.  When would you like to meet?”

            “Perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, too short notice… I am just outside now, calling on my cell phone.  I hoped that you maybe have no plans for your afternoon break?  We could meet now?  In a few minutes, maybe?”

            Sara’s mind went blank, then started whirring. What could Ruth Cheng want to speak to her about on such short notice? They had exchanged only courtesy messages through Storm since that first dinner. But of course she must oblige Storm’s mother. “Of course, Mrs. Cheng.  I must finish one small task. I can be at Tully’s in fifteen minutes.”

            “Please do not rush your work because of my late request.  I will meet you at the Tully’s coffee shop.  I can see it.” 

            Sara closed down her computer and ran her fingers through her hair.  She reviewed the past weeks in her mind. She and Storm and Richie had spent a lot of time together, yes, but Storm was even more circumspect than before in his comings and goings because of Richie.  What could be going on?  Sara slung her bag across her shoulder, and told Jade that she was going out for a short break.  No use guessing, just go and find out.

=====

Poem by permission of Chen Li Qiang. My own translations

Fox Spirit 64 – Alien Christmas

Before Richie came, Storm and Sara had paid no attention to the small playground which was part of her university neighborhood. Now its swings and slide were the preferred destination of every after-school walk, with Uncle Cheng as Richie’s preferred playmate. Storm never seemed to tire of pushing Richie on the swing, catching him at the end of the slide, or making roads in the sandbox for Richie’s truck. On their first visit Sara was half indulgent, half impatient as she watched the dark gloss of Storm’s hair tumble from its usual tidy sweep, Richie’s dark-blonde mop flying, the cries of glee from the toddler, the unreserved grin spreading across Storm’s face. But then she threw off her dignity and joined them, demanding her turn at the swings. Soon they were all three chasing each other through the sand box and up and down the slide, Richie leading the way. When they were all panting with laughter Sara stopped the chase at the foot of the slide, tempting Richie with dinner and a special dessert to pull him away from the playground.

            After Richie was tucked into bed, Sara and Storm sprawled across her small sofa, still feeling the unaccustomed workout. “How exhausting to be almost three years old!” Sara sighed, still smiling.

            “But also how liberating!” Storm answered. “It’s delightful to be almost three years old; we should remember in our hearts how to be so free!”

            His face grew serious. “I think I never was like that – maybe I never before was really a child. I was either too young or too old in spirit. Two Ox Village had no playground; there was no playing as we did today. Almost- three must be the perfect age to experience joy. I’m lucky  to find almost- three again.”

            “You’re right,” said Sara, matching his seriousness. “We laughed so much today. For so long I didn’t laugh. I can’t remember laughing when John was sick. It would have been too loud, too wild….”

            “No?” He remembered that morning when he had first really seen her, by the copy machine with her children’s poem. Her face had been lit with laughter, her eyes glowing, hair in copper coils. “When I think of you I think of you laughing –…Yet you say you never laughed?  How could this be?”

            “My husband, even when he was healthy he was already severe. Too much laughter showed a loss of control. When he was sick his life became small and dark. My laughter, my singing disturbed him.”

            Sara turned to Storm, seeming to study him for a moment. “The darkness, the smallness, that’s what I wanted to escape from. When he died I was still in a box. I ran away from my home, my son, my friends, to break out of that box. Do you understand?”

            “Yes. I think so. We share this, the feeling of being in the box. We’re both fighting to escape. I see this now in you.” He bent forward and kissed her.

December 1999

Sara

            Richie was too young to miss an American – style Christmas. He didn’t know that he was supposed to have a giant tree in his house, put out cookies and hang stockings by a chimney, or count the presents under the tree that had his name on them. On Christmas morning he was excited to receive the few books and toys which Sara had managed to snatch up before their flight to Beijing, which she set out Christmas morning underneath the advent calendar she had hung on the wall.

                        On Christmas afternoon Jerry Wang and Silver Wing invited Sara and Richie over for roast duck and baked squash. “I know you’d be having turkey and bread stuffing at home, but this is the best we can manage,” Jerry Wang made the usual polite excuses for the fare, but his hospitable face belied his words. Silver Wing bustled out of the kitchen to greet Sara and Richie, an anxious look on her face. “I forgot to ask you what Riqi would like to eat – will he eat squash? Rice?  I can make some rice…”

            “Richie loves squash,” Sara assured her. “And he’ll like the duck if it is cut up for him. And I brought a spoon. He can’t use chopsticks yet.”

            Silver Wing’s face broke into a smile. “I have a small gift for Riqi that will maybe help him at the table.”  She produced a pair of children’s chopsticks, joined at the end so that a child could practice the pincer action without having to control the long ends. By the end of dinner all three adults were covered in squash bits as Richie practiced with the chopsticks and all four were laughing. The restraint that had come between Sara and Jerry Wang in the past months was gone.

            It would have been even better if Storm had been invited, Sara thought. Maybe another time there could be a pleasant adult foursome laughing at Richie’s attempts. “I wonder if anyone in our office celebrates Christmas?” Sara ventured. “I suppose most of the single young men still live and eat with their families and I don’t think there are any Christians on the staff. Manager Cheng was asking me about Western Christmas celebrations…”  She saw the mask of reserve return over Jerry Wang’s face, Silver Wing’s averted glance. Suddenly she felt awkward.

            “….I think he is maybe a Buddhist?  I suppose there are other Buddhists in the office…” Sara’s sentence trailed off in confusion.

            “If one is a party member there is no place for any religion,” Jerry responded. His voice was almost stern.

            “It’s no matter,” Silver Wing’s gentle voice broke in. “The duck can be enjoyed by a Buddhist as well as by a Christian, or by a good party member. Or even by Richie, who is none of these. You see, he is very satisfied.” All three turned to look at the child, who during the few moments of their inattention had fallen asleep, his head resting on the table.

            The sternness disappeared from Jerry Wang’s face in a moment. He lifted the sleeping toddler and moved him to the sofa, Silver Wing hovering nearby with plumped pillows and anxious suggestions.  

            Sara saw it all with a new understanding. Her boss knew about and disapproved of her affair with Storm, but he and his wife did approve of Richie.  Jerry Wang would be tolerant of Richie’s guardian. But she and Storm must be more discreet. No one else at the office had given any sign about the office romance, but maybe their tolerance had limits. If she lost her job – that would be too complicated to think about. She would have to be more careful. She would talk to Storm. If he lost his job, with no iron rice bowl… she would not think about that. They would both have to be more careful.

Fox Spirit 63 – A Family Forms

             独崇 玉烁儿，郁郁星眸亮。

            不作哭声， 作笑声，自顾莺鹤唱。

            皓腕饮晴琳，日照瑚珊样。

           争去人怀雀跃行， 挽臂秋千荡。

                                             -陈立强

 

                        As dear as polished jade,

                        My son, my treasure –

                        Eyes like stars, with light brimming,

                        Not with tears, with laughter sparkling,

                        Carefree as a small bird singing,

                        Clear and fine his white skin gleaming,

                        Lit with sun like coral seeming.

                        Joyful steps my heart entangling,

                        Hand in hand, two children swinging

                        I am a child, re-made

                                    To serve his pleasure.

                                                – Chen Li Qiang (2000)

 

Storm

            Storm had stayed away from the office for the first week after Sara’s return on various pretexts. He had seen Sara’s discomfort at seeing him and her son Mark together, so he held back his impatience until he knew Mark had returned to California. Sunday evening he waited in the light rain outside Sara’s door, hunching his shoulders against the damp chill. He saw Auntie Chen’s outline against the window opposite, but she did not call out to him or greet him. Had he become a non-person?  Would Sara also ignore his presence?  The child would still be there… would this be a barrier?  Thinking of Sara still made his heart quicken, his body stir… surely what they had was not broken. How could he endure to work in the same office if he was nothing to her?

            She was late coming from the office –but then, she would have to stop at the Children’s Palace for the child. How would she bring him home?  Perhaps she would be taking the bus, not her bicycle. If he waited at the bus stop then Auntie Chen would have nothing to remark – but if she had not taken the bus after all?  He shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if he should leave. Then he saw her. Sara was wheeling her bicycle over the curb; the child was in some sort of seat on the back. She hadn’t seen him yet. She stooped over to murmur something to the child. She straightened, looked forward, stopped. She had seen him.

            To Storm’s relief, Sara’s face lit at sight of him. She said nothing, but her lips trembled as she rolled the bicycle toward him. He reached to steady the bicycle as she put her key in the door. Together they pushed the laden bicycle into the entryway. The child, nodding and sleepy, whimpered as she released him from his belts and straps.  “You take him,” Sara said. “I’ll manage the bike.” She wheeled the bicycle into its place against the wall. The child whimpered again and the small arms slid around Storm’s neck. He felt almost a physical pull from the center of his being. A murmur of surprise escaped him as he held the child closer.

            “What is it?” Sara asked.

            “He has taken my heart.”

            “No.” She put one hand on his arm, the other on the child, smiling up at him. “Your heart must still be mine.”

            “It is still,” he smiled back. “My heart is big enough for both.”

            Dinner, a story, and at last the child was settled, quiet. Sara drew the screen around the crib and turned to Storm. His heart lurched again with a sudden surge of feeling.

            “You’re tired,” he said.

            “Yes”

            He began to turn away, disappointed, then

            “Yes…she repeated, smiling, reaching out to him

            Yes… sliding her cool hand around his neck

            Yes… pulling him toward her

            Yes. His arms went around her; he was kissing her face, her neck, her mouth

            “Hush, Richie will hear us.” She drew him to the bed.

            Afterward they lay together, warm under the blanket, the child still quiet behind the screen in the other room. She stroked his flank and spoke as if to herself, “Now we are three.”

            “Three?  You, me, and the child?” He stopped speaking then added slowly, “That has been my dream.”

            “Your dream? To have a child with me?”

            He nodded. “But I knew it wasn’t possible. Now that it has happened …”

            She smiled and put her finger across his mouth to silence him.

“Now we are three –and so much easier this way. No pregnancy, no birth pains, no midnight feedings.”

            He smiled back. “Still one problem: diapers!  How soon can that problem be solved?”

            “Ah, that was only for travel, in case of accidents. The flight was long and there were lines for the toilet. But he did fine.”

            “Ah, then he’s  perfect.”

Sara

               Monday it was raining. Sara’s phone rang. “Ni hao, Sai le.” It was Silver Wing. “You shouldn’t ride your bicycle with Riqi to the Children’s Palace – the weather is very bad. We’ll come to pick you up.”

            “No, you are too kind.” Sara protested. “We have to learn to take the bus.”

            “Not possible. Not necessary. We will be there in one half hour.”   

            “But…” The phone clicked off before Sara could argue further.

            Thirty minutes later came knocking at the door. “All ready?” Jerry Wang stood sheltered by a pink umbrella which cast an unnatural light on his cheerful face.

            “But wait… I’ll get the car seat for Richie.”

            “No problem, we have seat belts. Beijing doesn’t require a child seat. Silver Wing will take care of him.” He hustled Sara and Richie out the door.

            Silver Wing had stationed herself in the far back seat, her arms already outstretched to receive Richie. She took Richie from Sara, cooed in his ear, tickled his nose with her hair and secured him in the center of the back seat.

            Sara could not help checking in the mirror – Richie was still such a new responsibility. Silver Wing was talking, teaching Richie how to say her name. Richie was at his morning best, enchanted by the attention, responsive and giggling.

            Sara turned back and smiled at Jerry Wang. “Looks like Richie has found another new friend.”

            He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind. Silver Wing has been very lonely for a child. If you’re willing to share your grandson a little with her, it would be a great kindness.”

            Sara remembered Silver Wing’s smile as she took Richie with her into the back seat. And Jerry Wang seemed sincere; the barrier that had been between them was down. “Of course. Perhaps Silver Wing would like to take care of Richie sometimes in the evening.” Sara was thinking already about evenings with Storm, for beer and argument at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine Shop with Zhang, and after.

            At the end of the week Sara stopped at Storm’s cubicle. “Let’s go together on the bus to get Richie tonight. I can’t depend on Boss Wang’s kindness too much.”

            They had seldom ridden the bus together. Sara had grown used to being stared at, but now she thought there were more furtive glances from the other passengers than usual. Were they trying to figure out the relationship between one who was obviously a waiguoren and one who was obviously a local? She placed an arm behind him to grasp the hand rail, shielding herself from being jostled and from the appraising glances.

            On the trip from the Children’s Palace to Sara’s apartment, with Richie in Storm’s arms, the other passengers seemed even more curious, but Sara kept her eyes lowered and Storm seemed too absorbed by his young burden to notice.

=====

Poetry by permission of Chen Li Qiang. The translation is my own.

Fox Spirit 62 – Meetings and Departures

Storm was squatting, Chinese style, folded up so that his head was barely higher than Richie’s, murmuring to the toddler in his dark gentle voice. Richie was watching, wide-eyed, with two fingers in his mouth, as Storm’s long fingers played with a bright coin, making it appear and disappear, spin into the air  to be caught again.

            Sara’s elbow bumped the cubicle wall; Storm turned, saw her and rose from his crouch. Richie broke into a wail, “Uppa! Uppa!” reaching out his arms. Storm swept him up from the floor without apparent effort and turned to face Sara and Mark with a smile. “You see…we are already good friends.”

            Sara’s eyes answered his smile, though her voice was carefully neutral. “I see that. Let me introduce you. This is Richie; Richie this is Cheng Bofu – Uncle Cheng.”

            Richie’s hand was gripping Storm’s dark hair. He giggled and buried his face in Storm’s shoulder, then lifted his head and began to squirm, holding out his arms toward his grandmother. “Ah, you are a wiggling snake boy.” Storm passed Richie to Sara and looked inquiringly at Mark.

            “Mark, this is Cheng Bao Feng – Storm – our Sales Manager.” As they shook hands, she saw her two worlds collide. Mark was all fresh-faced muscular American exuberance, while  Storm, with his slender frame, shock of raven black hair, high cheekbones and air of reserve, had never looked so exotic.

            “Uppa! Uppa!” Richie demanded again. Sara passed him to Mark, who scooped him up and perched him on his shoulders. “There. You’ll be out of the way now. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cheng. Looks like everyone here has been taking good care of my mom.”

            “It is she who has been taking care of us. So many details she takes care of,” interjected Jerry Wang. “Shall we go to lunch now?  Then I think you’re meant to go to the Children’s Palace with Manager Li and Richie? And maybe tomorrow you will be in the office again, Sara? We hadn’t realized how much you do until you weren’t here to do it.”

            “How long will you be visiting, Mr. Mark?”  Storm’s question was for Mark, but his eyes sought Sara’s. She responded on Mark’s behalf – “He will be leaving very soon – Saturday. There are legal issues in California.” 

            “Ah, then perhaps I won’t see you again, Mr. Mark. Travel well, then. Duibuqi, I have a meeting, must go.”   He vanished before Sara could do more than return his look.

            Scarlet Li had prepared well on Sara’s and Richie’s behalf. A brief negotiation saw Richie added to the enrollment at the Children’s Palace. The young teacher Peach Wu who cared for the youngest children in the pre-kindergarten was charmed immediately. “Riqi… You know in Chinese it means ‘sun spirit’. A very good name.”

            “Yes, that was just lucky. There was no thought of his having a Chinese name when he was born.”

            “Maybe he has a lucky fate – being born lucky is better than being born rich or beautiful. It lasts longer, maybe.”

            Sara looked at Peach Wu in surprise. “In America we think luck isn’t lasting at all. Maybe only having good brains is a lasting gift.”

            Teacher Wu smiled. “You may be right. We’ll see what we can do with Riqi’s brains, then.” She took Richie’s hand and led him to the picture book table. Sara felt a pang as he left – he did not even look back at her. But two year olds haven’t learned yet to be afraid of new things. It was a good time for this change, at least for Richie.

            For the first time, Sara went with Scarlet Li to the Beijing Capital Airport to see someone off, rather than taking a flight herself. Richie had been left with Silver Wing, so the farewells went quickly as Scarlet idled her car at the drop-off curb.

            Mark leaned over to give Sara a forceful hug before picking up his suitcase. “I wish you could come and be with me in court, Mom.”

            “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure Kurt Bentley will handle everything well – and with Richie out of the country, the Cavallos won’t be able to do anything underhanded. As Richie’s father you have the right to give me temporary guardianship. I’m sure it will all end well.”

            “As long as the Cavallos don’t hire some Mafia hit man to have me knee-capped.” 

            “Not funny. You’ll be fine in court.”

            “Ok, but what happens afterward?  How long will Richie have to stay in China, do you think?  I’m already starting to miss him…”

            “We’ll talk about that later, after the custody suit is settled. Just focus on that for now. It will work out – trust me.”

            “I‘ve always trusted you, Mom.  Just, take good care of him. And of yourself too. All of a sudden everyone I care about most will be so far away…”

            Sara refused to let tears come. “You saw how everyone from the office and the school came together to help us. Be easy – now get on that plane.”  Mark engulfed her with another long hug and then passed through the security gate beyond her view. Sara hurried back to Scarlet’s waiting car, Mark’s parting words echoing in her mind. But as they drove through the crowded streets Sara was already planning Richie’s first weekend in China.

November 1999

Silver Wing

            Silver Wing lay in bed, listening to her husband’s quiet breathing next to her, thinking about Richie – his eyes such a warm brown, not the flat black of Chinese eyes. His eye lashes curling outward like the eaves of a temple, not straight down like brushes. His eyelids so oddly folded. His hair so bright – brown, but gilded by the sun. His skin like a peach. Nothing like his grandmother, with her dark-copper hair and skin white as a courtesan in old pictures. The man she had met, Richie’s father, had the same eyes. She wondered about the dead mother – what did she give to her son? Was she like Sara? Or maybe shorter, darker haired.

            Silver Wing imagined her arm next to Richie’s, holding Richie. She sighed, turned on her side and realized that her husband’s eyes were on her. Embarrassed, she reached out and pulled him to her, hiding her face. His response was immediate, his hands moving down her side, lips murmuring against her neck. Silver Wing stiffened, then sighed and relaxed against him. He had been patient with her and it had been a long time since she had welcomed him.

Sara

            Sara woke at the sound of Richie’s crying. She stumbled from the bed, picked up her red night lamp, lit her way to the crib side. He was asleep, but still crying, contorted into a tight ball, cheeks gleaming with tears. Was he feverish?  Stomach pain? Indigestion? No sign of vomit on the sheet, forehead cool to the touch. She set the light down and reached to comfort him. He went rigid at her touch, began to thrash. “No!  No! Mama! Mama!” He fought against her, still sleeping, yet fighting her.

            Sara picked him up, pinned his thrashing arms against her chest and called his name. “Richie!  Richie!  It’s Grandma. Wake up!” His spine stiffened; he bent backward trying to escape her. “Richie, it’s ok!  Wake up – you’re dreaming” He sobbed wildly, then suddenly collapsed in her arms.

            “Mama! Mama!” Little by little his sobs slackened, he cuddled against her, one hand grasping at her breast. He slid into sleep. Sara sat with him, not moving, staring into the darkness.

Mark

            An ocean away, the house was quiet in mid-morning light. Mark set down his suitcase in the hallway. Since Rennie’s death he had had no time to notice the emptiness. Now he moved from room to room noting the vacancy where Rennie’s coffee cup should have been – the one she would always leave on the counter before scooping Richie up to take him to the Tiny Tot Lot. The empty hooks on the coat rack. Rennie had been wearing a hat and jacket on the day she died. He wondered what had become of them. At the morgue the attendants had given him Rennie’s purse, her wallet intact, her rings, a few other things from the car, but no clothing.

            In the kitchen Richie’s high chair had been pushed into the corner. Everything had been tidied here before the flight to Beijing. The refrigerator, crammed with casseroles from friends and neighbors after the accident, was almost bare. A jar of mayonnaise, some jam, a jar of marinara sauce.

            Richie’s room had been stripped. The dresser drawers were a little ajar, contents swept into suitcases without sorting or review. The sheets were gone from the crib, along with Richie’s green bear that Aunt Carol had made for him. Mark had forgotten the pattern of dancing elephants on the crib mattress. It smelled faintly of talcum powder, baby shampoo, and a trace of urine.  In the corner lay a stuffed elephant, left behind, not one of Richie’s favorites. Mark picked it up and held it close. He still held it as he turned to the other bedroom.

            Nothing much had changed, except the overwhelming not-thereness of Rennie. The quilt she had made was still on the bed. Her closet door was closed; he couldn’t face opening her closet. Lotion and eye-shadow still in the bathroom. The smell of moisturizer, bath oil. The candles by the bathtub. The memory of her lying in the bathtub with the candles lit. The memory of her lying on the table at the morgue. Her hair dryer. Her hair spreading out from under the sheet at the morgue. They hadn’t let him see her face, but it was her long, dark hair that he had known at first glimpse. The gentle waves of her hair. The way it had rippled around her shoulders when she hurried out the door with Richie that last morning. She was always running late. If she hadn’t been late that afternoon. If he had picked up Richie from daycare instead. He sat down on the toilet seat clutching the elephant and began to sob.