Toward the North

by Hua Laura Wu

  One day he got a cramp in his leg, and I knelt down to massage it. Who would have thought that he would kick me away? In contrast, once when we were going out and I lost my balance climbing the stairs, I fell and rolled back down the steps. I moaned on the ground, unable to lift myself. He, however, did not come to help me up. Although your grandfather received a modern education, his thinking was that of an ancient Chinese male: dictatorial and authoritarian. He didn’t know what love was. He only spoke nicely when he wanted me to make love with him. Actually, it doesn’t matter if you marry a dictatorial and authoritarian man, as long as he is reasonable. Unfortunately, your grandfather was not that reasonable, which made my life very miserable.

  There was one time your grandfather became angry, blaming me for not preparing supper on time. He threw dishes at me and loudly insulted me in front of our children. He made me completely lose face; my self-respect was shot to pieces. In a moment of anger, I walked out the door and left home. I walked and walked until I noticed an advertisement for a babysitter on a local power pole. I immediately went to apply. The employer hired me and even gave me a bowl of rice; however, they didn’t give me any chopsticks, vegetables, or meat. I looked at the rice and cried. Later on, your uncle asked around and found out where I was working; he came to take me home. I apologized to my employers and admitted that I had run away in anger. They said it was no wonder I had been useless to them, I just wasn’t the servant type.

  On the way home, I could see your grandfather from far away; he was already standing in the street. He welcomed me, all smiles. Once I had returned, I wanted him to apologize. And he did. He lowered his voice and said he was sorry. But I didn’t accept it. I asked him to apologize in a loud voice, as loud as when he had insulted me, so that the neighbours could hear. Instead, he replied, “I’m not crazy! Why do I want to let the neighbours hear me apologize?” I asked him, “Why did you let the neighbours hear you insult me?”

  Your grandfather was like all men. Although he was married, he still liked to have girlfriends. Plus, he was brazen about it. Once he realized that I was afraid of the neighbours making fun of me, he didn’t restrain himself in any way. There was a time when he had two girlfriends. Once, when he wrote to both of them, he even wanted me to prepare the ink for him. When he finished the letters, he ordered me to take them to the post office. The more I thought about it the angrier I became, so I switched the letters, putting one girlfriend’s letter in the other girlfriend’s envelope, and then sent them. By doing this, I caused him to lose them both.

  Oh, Little Millie, you and I both know that it is wrong to lie, but I had no choice. The first time I lied in order to be able to participate in the entrance exam and have the chance to continue my education. I had to deceive my father and mother by saying that I was going to Auntie’s house to spend the night. Only by doing this did I have the opportunity to receive a teacher’s education and to marry your grandfather. If I had only had an elementary school education, he definitely would not have married me, and you wouldn’t be here.

  Since then, I’ve had a different view of lying than most people. I emphasized two things: the first was motive, and the other was result. If I was forced to lie, and had no evil thoughts, and no intention of hurting someone, when I had no control, then I could be forgiven for occasionally telling a white lie in order to get through a difficult situation.

  For example, for the sake of the children and our marriage, I completely subjected myself to your grandfather. This was my decision; I couldn’t blame anyone else. When he told me to run the errand of sending the letters to his girlfriends, if I had refused, wouldn’t we have fought? People laugh at a couple who always argue; they have no face whatsoever! The best thing for me to do was to deceive him, allow my petty planning to cause him to lose two lovers at the same time. I have forgiven myself for this transgression, and I believe that God will forgive me as well.

  Afterwards, whenever your grandfather rebuked me, I would address your uncle who was still in high school then: “Mama will take you to a movie, whichever one you want.” Your uncle would agree. But who knew that he would buy a ticket for me then leave, saying that he would pick me up when the movie was over? Because he didn’t like to watch movies, my son tricked me in this way. I had only just arrived in Taiwan and I was feeling bad. I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t know where to go, and I was afraid of going to a movie by myself. For the sake of relieving the pressure, I invited your uncle to accompany me, but I didn’t anticipate that I couldn’t count on my son to stay with me through the movie.

  Mothers are all brave, and Grandmother is no exception. We were in Sichuan during World War Two. The Japanese bombed us repeatedly. Every time we heard the moaning and whining of the air raid alert, each family, young and old, evacuated to the air raid shelter. At that time, I only had one child, your uncle. When we were fleeing from the air raid, I would always hold your uncle tightly against my chest inside my shirt. It didn’t matter how cold the wind was; I only feared that he would be killed by a bomb. Grandmother would have preferred to die herself in order that his small life be saved. There were some unfortunate mothers who carried their children on their backs, and when they reached the air raid shelter, discovered that their children had already been killed by stray shards. Those mothers cried their hearts out, but it didn’t help. That traitor, Wang Jingwei,1 can’t be forgiven. He placed red signs on the trenches around the air raid shelter, so that the Japanese planes could bomb them. So many people were killed by bombing, and so many were smothered to death in the air raid shelters.

  Grandmother is telling you these things for no other reason than to let you know that friends, husband, sons, and daughters, none can be relied upon. You can only rely upon yourself. However, if you don’t have any learning, or money, how can you support yourself? In Grandmother’s opinion, a job can be lost, and money can be stolen or robbed; only learning can never be thrown or snatched away. Besides, if you lose your job, learning can help you rise from the ashes. If you are robbed of your money, you can earn it back.

  Next time you raise a fuss and say you want to quit school, please think carefully about what Grandmother has said. Grandmother does not want YOU to be a Little Weeping Millie all your life.

  Translated by Lloyd Sciban and Shu-ning Sciban’

  1Wang was the head of a Japanese controlled government during their occupation of China.

  Surrogate Father

  BO SUN

  MY FRIENDS CALL ME Qiao the Genius or Master Qiao. My name is actually Qiao Guangzong, a name given to me by my grandfather, who did not know how to read or write a single character. If I’d had a younger brother, he would have been named Yaozu. Guangzong and Yaozu. What vulgar names!1 I was born in the Year of the Rabbit, and now I am thirty-six years old. I graduated with distinction from a well-known Chinese university and am now a doctoral student of computer science at the University of Toronto. Please do not think of me as a nerd. I have many interests and hobbies. I can sing and dance. I can discuss literature or sports. As a matter of fact, I am a sharp shooter on the basketball court, though I cannot claim I am as good a player as Michael Jordan. My classmates at university gave me the nickname “Old Hand in Romance.” Although it was not meant as a compliment, I found the “romance” part rather endearing. No matter how you dissect it, romance is pretty romantic.

  Who could have foreseen that a clever guy like me could ever be snared? How could I have known that that woman from Taiwan would cause me so much trouble? Could it be that I, Qiao the Genius, have exhausted all my good fortune? I’d rather be writing thousands and thousands of computer programs of extreme complexity than deal with the mess I find myself in right now.

  My wife, Lu Xiaodan, is a beautiful woman from Shanghai. We bumped into each other at the foot of the Great Wall, and two years later we tied the knot on the banks of the Huangpu River. Soon after, I got a full scholarship from U of T and flew, by myself, t
o a snow-covered Canada. A year later, Dan joined me. She was a Chinese literature major in Shanghai, so she could read English but could not speak it. When she was settled in Toronto, she enrolled in English language classes.

  Barely six months had passed when Dan began to want a child. She was almost too eager, perhaps because she was almost thirty. Nothing could be easier. All I had to do was simply stop using that nuisance of a condom. Very soon, she was pregnant. We celebrated the happy event with much joyfulness. And I used that opportunity to have a whisky or two.

  Unfortunately, Dan miscarried two months later. We were both very sad, but we tried again about six months later. That effort ended in miscarriage, too. Dan was devastated. Her days were spent in deep sorrow. I tried to comfort her, but my efforts were in vain. I was also afraid that because of her profound depression she might be suicidal so, I sought high and low for a psychiatrist for professional help.

  During that crucial time, Situ Jianye and his wife became our neighbours. We lived in an apartment building owned by the university that had all the necessary facilities and very low rent.

  Situ was a PhD student in the Department of Sociology. He was from Hong Kong, so his Mandarin was rusty. He was rather short and far from handsome. However, his wife Chen Yaping was tall and pretty. She was also very sexy. Moreover, she knew how to befriend people. In the opinion of all the people they met, she was a beautiful flower stuck on a pile of cow dung. What a waste!

  When she was told that Ping used to be a nurse, Dan’s pretty face, which was clouded with grief, broke into a smile. As it happened, Dan and Ping were both born in the Year of the Ram and they were both Scorpios. Pretty soon they became chummy and started thinking of each other as sisters. They went to classes together and visited each other often. Sometimes I found Ping at our place when I got home from the university. But her husband and I seldom met. Situ was busy job hunting while I was focused on finishing my dissertation, spending most of my time in the computer lab.

  Several times after being intimate with Dan, I’d lie beside her, spent, and listen to her babble about Ping’s family affairs. Situ had passed his thesis defence. He had sent out hundreds of application letters but had yet to receive an offer. They were both frustrated. Dan seemed to be really concerned for them. I told her not to worry herself silly about someone else’s troubles. She, however, blamed me for not being a good friend. Then she would lick at my moustache and say to me: “Who could be as lucky as you are? IBM is interested in you even before you graduate.”

  Yes, luck certainly smiles at me! But I am Qiao the Genius, with an IQ of 140. Who the heck is Situ? He should count himself extremely lucky to have a wife as attractive as Ping. The worst mistake a woman can make is to marry the wrong man, and a man’s worst mistake is to pick the wrong profession. It was Situ’s own fault that he chose the wrong academic discipline. After all, this world favours the fittest. The more I thought about his misfortune and my good luck, the more pleased I was with myself. But I did not say anything to Dan because she thought of Ping as a sister. Also, it was awkward since we were both stark naked.

  Believing that she would not be deemed a real woman if she were not a mother, Dan struggled with her self-esteem and was still determined to have a child. By July, she had gotten her confidence back and ordered me to stop wearing that thing.

  To draw on the lessons we learned from the previous two miscarriages, Dan issued three rules as soon as we learned the test results: she would not do household chores, she would not drive, and she would not have sex. She would do whatever it took to keep the baby safe. And she said that Ping prescribed the last rule and repeatedly emphasized its importance. I knew that my wife could be easily provoked and that total obedience was the best strategy to appease her, so I pledged compliance. But privately, I thought the first two rules would be easy to follow because all they required was that I’d work harder at home. However, the last commandment was, for me, simply unacceptable. It meant that I would not be able to enjoy conjugal bliss for over a year, which would certainly make me sick. Even our family doctor had never written a prescription as harsh as that. What was Ping thinking?

  With the arrival of September, a new school year began. Dan and Ping started their accounting courses at a community college. They were inseparable. I was extremely grateful to Ping since she gave Dan a ride to school every day and they went on shopping trips together. When shopping, Ping carried all the groceries and other things, too. Sometimes she even came over to do chores like mopping the floor, tidying up the kitchen, and so on. As time passed, I gradually began to think of her as one of the family, too. Together we had meals and watched TV, and on weekends we would have her husband over for supper once in a while. Situ, when he joined us, seldom spoke. Perhaps it was because of his poor Mandarin, but I believed it was more because he was feeling low due to the fact that he had failed to find a job. But his appetite was not affected; he never put down his chopsticks at a meal, not even once.

  Then a miracle occurred. Just when Situ had given up all hope of locating a job and was ready to return to Hong Kong, he received an e-mail message from the University of Chicago, offering him a two-year contract position to teach sociological statistics. The university wanted an immediate response. Although it was a mere contract job, it was better than nothing. Moreover, U of C was a first-class university, and the contract could be renewed. So we were all very happy for him. Situ wanted Ping to move to Chicago with him, but she refused. She pointed out that she had just started her program, that she could not leave Dan behind, and that Chicago was not that far away for him to travel. Situ, thus, had to leave her behind.

  The evening before Situ left, the four of us had a farewell dinner at a Chinese restaurant on Spadina. I had never seen Situ so happy and so talkative. He even snatched up the bill when it came. Tightly he held my hands in his, urging me to take good care of Ping.

  Naturally, after Situ left, Ping became a fixture at our home. Every two or three days she would have supper with us. Quite a few times, she slept in our conjugal bed, while I had to make do on the couch in the living room. If that had become known, people would have started to think that those two were lesbian lovers.

  Pretty soon Dan was four months pregnant, and all was well. Ping apparently was an old hand. Dan was so grateful that she seemed almost to worship Ping, as though without Ping she would have no hope of keeping her baby. So one day at supper I said that Ping should be a godmother to our child. They laughed and said in unison what a superb idea it was.

  This also meant that I had been celibate for four long months. This was unusual for me. Since my second year at university, I had never been without a sexual partner for more than three months. During my first year in Canada, I had three women, all Caucasians. And we had enjoyed our casual sexual relations. My affair with my last partner, Lucy, did not end until a week before Dan’s arrival. Of course, Dan would never learn about those women—never—but she was fully aware that I was as strong as a horse.

  Those four months were truly a time of horror. I was full of sexual energy, but I had no outlet. So I threw myself into swimming and playing basketball. Exercises increased my appetite. At one supper, I wolfed down half a chicken, two chunks of steak, and a plateful of beef and broccoli stir-fry, as well as a bottle of French red wine. Dan, assuming I was experiencing setbacks in my studies, was too scared to comment, while Ping simply smiled.

  What was more troubling was that I started to dream of pits, caves, and doors of all sizes—all symbols of female sexuality. Sometimes my dreams were very graphic. I remembered dreaming of Ping’s plump breasts and fleshy buttocks. I had no clue why I fantasized about her. Perhaps it was because we were seeing each other frequently. To be frank, her body could easily inspire any male’s fantasies. However, Dan never appeared in my dreams, which, I admitted ashamedly, was a betrayal of my dear wife. I thought about having sex with some other women on certain nights, but I w
as afraid that Dan might find out and make a big scene out of it. It would not be worth the trouble, especially when she was pregnant with my child. So I toughed it out, for the sake of my unborn child.

  One wintry evening, with a cold wind blowing and snowflakes dancing all around, Ping was at our place to keep Dan company. They were watching the news when I left for my office after supper. I was revising a paper that was to appear in Nature. Around eleven o’clock the phone rang, breaking my concentration. It was Ping. “Hi, Qiao the Genius. Could you do me a favour? My computer just died on me. My project is due tomorrow. I would have asked Dan, but she has gone to bed.”

  I drove home, and twenty minutes later, I was in Ping’s apartment. I checked her computer and found a virus. Then I went back to our apartment to fetch some anti-virus software. Dan was fast sleep, so I quietly closed the door. When I got back to Ping’s apartment, I found that she had changed into pyjamas. She handed me a glass of brandy, sat down beside me, and leaned towards me, watching me fix her computer. My, the sweet fragrance from her body and that pair of sparkling eyes! They were simply irresistible. I hurried, intending to leave as soon as possible in order to escape temptation. However, she filled my glass a second time and then had one herself. I had never seen her drink strong liquor before.

  It was past midnight when her computer was fixed. Before I could leave, Ping pulled me into her bedroom. She shut the door, stripped off her pyjamas and stood in front of me without a stitch on. Staring at her huge and firm breasts, I was bursting with desire and completely lost control.

  We were in each other’s arms. It was as if everything had frozen in place, and even the air seemed to stand still. After our lovemaking, we were both soaked. “We are sick,” Ping whispered. “Otherwise how could we have managed without sex for so many months?”