by Iris Yang
Auntie Liu had supported her husband and believed in communism. If it weren’t for her aging parents, she might have joined him. Mr. Liu’s death not only saddened her but also presented an unexpected financial burden. At age fifty-five, she had to work as a servant. Trusting neither Capitalism nor Communism, she devoted herself to Buddhism.
“If they were so cruel to their own comrades,” General Bai said, interrupting Birch’s thought, “how tolerant do you think they would be of their enemies?”
Birch nodded. He recalled a heated argument with Captain Zhang in prison. He’d been puzzled and horrified by the Rectification Movement. Now his eyebrows crinkled as he remembered the captain’s feverish defense: “It’s good for us. We have to kick those goddamned traitors out of our party. Anyone who isn’t firm in our belief has no right to stay.”
A gust of wind swept through cracks in the house, creating eerie moans and groans. General Bai pulled his coat collar up a little higher around his neck.
“Believe it or not,” said Birch, trying to convince himself more than his father, “the Communists weren’t too bad to the surrendered soldiers. Meng Hu and Wang Hong told me that.”
“In some cases, perhaps. But read this…” Swallowing hard, the general took a folded envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Birch. He’d kept communications with his friends and colleagues in Chungking. “It came yesterday. I was afraid to tell you. I’m sorry. Ma Ning is…dead.”
“How is Mary?” At the mention of her father’s name, Birch asked, grabbing the letter.
“Don’t know. No mention of her.”
Leaning closer to the oil lamp, Birch scanned the pages. The color drained from his face. “Why did they kill him? He’d already ordered his regiment to put down their weapons. I thought… Meng Hu was so sure… Poor Mary! I wish…” he rambled on. The news upset him so badly that his speech became slurred and incoherent.
Birch wished he could be with Mary. His heart had already flown toward Chungking. Yet his mind was more realistic. Even if I were in Chungking, what could I do? Mary wouldn’t accept his comfort or help. He wasn’t needed. He was no longer her Perfect Tiger. The cold reality hit him squarely in the stomach.
A ponderous silence descended on them.
Birch read the letter again as General Bai sipped his tea. Outside the wind howled, and the light rain turned torrential.
Birch put down the letter and took a long drag on the half-smoked cigarette. As if talking to himself, he murmured, “Perhaps the Communists won’t come here. The village is so small and remote.”
“I said the same thing seven years ago.” Bitterness and regret laced General Bai’s voice. The fragile flame in the lamp flickered. Shadows fell across his gaunt and contrite face. “Remember? I never thought the Japs would come here. Look what happened?” He set the teacup down and coughed into his fist.
“Did you take medicine today?” asked Birch in a worried tone. He stabbed the cigarette out on an overflowing ashtray and picked up a thermos to refill the cup. The mint green aluminum bottle with two red-pink peonies was the only cheerful thing in the dreary room.
General Bai nodded and coughed a bit more. As an afterthought, he added with a rasping voice, “Sooner or later they’ll come. It’s too risky to stay.”
“What would I do if…?” Birch stopped mid-sentence. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and felt the beginning of a headache.
Yunnan Province was his home and his only hope. Here he was surrounded by young men who respected him and helped him. Living with the kindhearted villagers kept his pain under control. And looking for Jasmine and Danny made his life meaningful. How could he live somewhere else without this support system? How could he ever find Danny and Jasmine if he weren’t in Yunnan? “I made a promise—”
“A gentleman’s word is as good as gold,” interjected General Bai. “But what good is it if you end up in jail? Or worse?” His voice rose over the rain pounding on the roof. Then he quoted a Chinese proverb: “‘As long as the green mountains are there, no need to worry about a shortage of firewood.’ While there’s life, there’s hope.”
Trying to sound nonchalant, he continued, “You’ll fulfill the promises one day. Taiwan is a temporary stop. We’ll come back when the Army reconquers the Mainland; or if the Communist government is truly forgiving, as the propaganda claims.”
Outside the wind moaned like a tortured soul.
Birch felt a chill run through his body. Would he remain on the Mainland or flee to Taiwan? They went back and forth until Xiao Mei walked into the room holding a bamboo tray with two porcelain bowls. Fragrant steam filled the air.
“I made egg drop soup,” she said. “It’s good for a cold evening like this.” She set one dish in front of General Bai and pointed to the ingredients. “I put in dried tangerine peels and black dates. And I replaced the sugar with honey. They’re all good for your cough. Let me know if you like it this way.”
The general nodded his appreciation.
She offered the other bowl to the Young Master.
“Thank you, Xiao Mei.” Birch took a long breath and sighed contentedly. “This is just what I wanted.” A smile broke through his dark mood as he took a spoonful of soup.
Biting her lip, she flashed him a bashful grin before she turned and left the room.
“What would we do without her?” murmured the older man as he stirred the soup.
What choice do we have if we leave here, thought Birch? His smile faded.
After weeks of debate and counsel with their former colleagues, the two men finally made up their minds—to leave Yunnan for Taiwan. It was a hard decision. But the tougher job was to convince Xiao Mei to stay behind. Birch and his father tried to make it as easy as possible. They transferred the deed of the house to her name and left her enough money to last a lifetime. A servant like her could never accumulate such wealth, even if she worked three lifetimes. But Xiao Mei paid no attention to the fortune in front of her. She repeatedly begged to stay with them. In the end, the two men gave up the fight after she threatened suicide.
“You saved my life,” she said. “If I can’t be with you, I might as well give it back to you.” Her downcast eyes fixed on a pair of scissors on the table.
Knowing how strong-minded she was, they had no choice but to take her with them. It was unheard of for any family to take servants from the Mainland to Taiwan.
Chapter 39
Taiwan was an island in East Asia. On its west side, Taiwan Strait separated it from the Mainland, creating a natural barrier. The family spent the next weeks traveling, first by donkey, then by train and plane, and finally by boat. The distance between the village in Yunnan and Taiwan was over a thousand miles and the move was cumbersome, but luckily uneventful.
They found a big house in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of Taipei, the largest city on the island. The house was on the top of a hill, and the back porch overlooked a park the size of a football field, bordered by Taiwan cypress and pine forest.
Despite the great view and modern luxury, life was empty for Birch. He had no real purpose in life. The family fortune, along with his and his father’s retirement, allowed them to live comfortably, so he didn’t have to worry about earning a living. But being so far from Yunnan, he couldn’t do anything to keep his promises.
Birch had been trained as a soldier. Now, unable to take action, he felt like a caged Tiger. What kept him going was a dream to return to Yunnan. He spent a lot of time lifting weights and taking long walks. His body was as well-built as before his injury, but inside he felt hollow.
One crisp autumn day, he sat on the back porch after finishing several hours of exercise. His hair was damp and gleaming from a shower. A book lay on his lap, but he didn’t pick it up. Pigeons fluttered overhead. His gaze followed the birds until they disappeared into the western sky, the direction of the Mainland.
Emitting a long sigh, he dropped his head and his gaze turned to a radio-controlled airplane on the wrough
t-iron table. Gently he caressed its wing. The olive green plane was a replica. The one from Danny was hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom. Birch wished that he could still fly.
Xiao Mei appeared and placed a cup of ginseng tea on the table. “You had the plane for several days. I’d love to—”
Her voice broke his trance-like spell. Birch looked up. “You want to fly it?”
“Yes. I’ll be a pilot in my next life. Remember?” She flashed a shy smile. “Well, I’d better practice.”
“That’s right,” he grinned, recalling their conversation when they flew from Chungking to Kunming. “Okay.” Finishing his tea in one long gulp, he picked up his cane. “Let’s do it.”
Xiao Mei followed him down the stone steps toward the meadow. She placed the model airplane on the ground.
“Turn it to face into the wind.” Birch pointed to the direction. “It’s important. Don’t look down. You have to watch the plane. Pay attention to where it goes and how it flies.”
Xiao Mei dipped her head. She held the transmitter and applied a small amount of “up elevator.” Soon the little plane took off. “Oh, my God!” she cried.
It was a sunny day with white clouds floating in the blue sky. They basked in gorgeous sunlight.
The plane brought back memories to Birch. The best time of my life was spent flying with Danny. Tears clouded his eyes, and he blinked to keep from crying. “Don’t let it go too far. Remember, don’t make sharp turns. Keep the movements small and smooth.”
Around and around the model airplane sailed. The plane seemed to take Birch along into the sky. A surge of vitality lifted the burdens that weighed upon his shoulders.
What would Danny think, if he knew Xiao Mei was learning to fly? It had never occurred to them to include someone like a housemaid in a flying club when they talked about it. Danny would be amused. That brought a smile to his lips. “Okay, ready to bring it down?”
Xiao Mei gave a nervous nod. She stared at the green dot in the sky while her hands clutched the transmitter.
“Steady,” Birch called out again. He reached out to her shaky hands, but quickly stopped himself. Although it had been three years, the incident in his bedroom still made him uneasy. He’d held Xiao Mei in his arms and kissed her when he awakened from a nightmare and mistook her for Mary. So now, instead, he encouraged, “You can do it!”
When the plane landed, Xiao Mei jumped up and down, forgetting her reserved manners.
“You can definitely be a pilot in your next life,” said Birch with an air of amusement.
She blushed to the roots of her hair as she began to stage another flight.
A small group of people gathered around them. They looked at the airplane with curiosity and interest. Birch caught sight of two boys, the younger one in a wheelchair, his left leg missing. The older boy stood behind him. Sunlight lit their smiling faces as they clapped their hands. Something stirred inside Birch. He walked over and greeted them. “My name is Birch Bai. I live up there.” He pointed to the house with his chin.
“I’m Yan Ping,” replied the older boy. He looked about thirteen. His thin hands gripped the back handle of the wheelchair, which seemed too heavy for him to push.
“My name is Xiao Hu,” said his friend in the wheelchair. He wore a mint green long-sleeved shirt and tan slacks. His left pant leg was empty and flapping.
“Little…Tiger?” Birch stumbled over the name. An array of emotions paraded across his face. Mary had wished to have half a dozen Little Tigers with him; Meng Hu had planned to name his son Meng Xiao Hu—Fierce Little Tiger. I’m supposed to be his kid’s godfather. Did he have a son or a daughter?
“Yes, I’m eleven. I was born in 1938, the Year of the Tiger.”
“Guess what?” Xiao Mei pointed to Birch, a proud smile on her face. “He’s a Tiger, too. He has several nicknames related to Tiger.”
Including Mary’s Perfect Tiger, Birch thought and grimaced. Immediately, he caught himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “My best friend was a Flying Tiger. We were fighter pilots.”
“Great ones,” Xiao Mei added.
“Did you fight in the war?” asked Little Tiger. His eyes were round with excitement.
“Eight years.”
The boy leaned forward, his translucent cheeks blushing pink. With reverence and awe, he grabbed Birch’s hand. “Did you kill any Japs?” His dark eyes shone with an eagerness he couldn’t hide.
“You bet!”
“Lots of them,” Xiao Mei couldn’t resist elaborating. “He’s a hero. So was his best friend.”
“Wow! You… I…” The boy was so excited that his voice became incoherent.
Yan Ping finished it for his friend. “His leg was damaged during a Japanese raid. Both his father and grandfather were killed in the same attack.”
Birch felt a tug of sympathy for the child he’d just met. He put a hand on Little Tiger’s shoulder. “So, I gather you’re not brothers. Are you cousins?”
“No. But we’re best friends, like brothers.”
Birch gave a nod of approval. His eyes brightened as an idea sprang into his head. “Do you live around here?”
“We live in the city,” Yan Ping answered. “We took a bus here. In fact, we should go soon.”
“When will you come again?” asked Birch quickly. “I mean, if you like, I’d love to show you how to fly this plane.” He motioned to the model in Xiao Mei’s hands.
“Are you serious?” both boys asked in unison.
“Of course.”
“We can be here next weekend,” replied Yan Ping. Then Little Tiger joined him, “Thank you, Uncle Birch.” Smiles lit their faces.
“The pleasure is mine,” said Birch in a voice thick with emotion. “Uncle Birch”—the form of address touched him deeply. Even though he couldn’t be a father, he could still be someone’s uncle. He could still share his passion and knowledge with the younger generation. He felt a sudden lift of spirit. For the first time since they left Yunnan, he’d found something meaningful to do.
Chapter 40
A year passed. There was no sign they could return to the Mainland anytime soon.
The Nationalist Army shouted about fighting back. Slogans like “Exterminate the communist bandits!” and “Counterattack the Mainland to liberate and rescue our compatriots!” were everywhere. But so far there was no action.
The Communists didn’t keep their promises. Although there was no official communication between Taiwan and the Mainland, rumors from various sources painted a bleak picture. Soon after they took over, the new Communist government launched a political movement designed to eradicate the opposition, mainly former Nationalists.
Birch waited. Each passing day dragged.
He was still single. Although several matchmakers had gotten in touch after their arrival in Taipei, he hadn’t dated anyone since Mary left him. On the outside, the former fighter pilot appeared to be a perfect gentleman and a fine catch. He was in his mid-thirties, tall, well-built, and handsome. He was highly educated and well mannered. His family belonged to the upper class.
But only Birch knew how broken his body was. In the daytime, long pants shielded his prosthetic leg, but each night when he removed the artificial limb, the amputated stump seemed detestable to him. Whenever he undressed, he saw only ugly scars. His broken body reminded him why Mary had left him.
Worse yet, he suffered constant emotional pain. His abiding grief and guilt would have been hard for anyone in peace time to understand. On top of everything else, he also had to deal with the dreadful reality that he could never be a “real man.”
Birch believed the doctors. Several had delivered the same verdict: he could never be a father. “You may or may not…perform. To say the least, you won’t have much sexual drive or urge.”
And it was true. He didn’t have any desire. He had no idea that the combination of the doctor’s opinion, his depressed mood, and self-pity hampered his ability. They acted like a self-fulfilling prophe
cy, successfully killing his sexual need.
As a social being, though, Birch longed to be with someone. He craved for a soft touch, a warm hug, especially when he was overwhelmed by nightmares. Mostly he missed having someone to talk to, someone with whom to have a heart-to-heart conversation about life and death, and to discuss his own sadness and survivor’s guilt. Out of politeness, he carried on small talk with his father and Xiao Mei, but his heart wasn’t in it.
If Mary had left him because of his broken body, then why would anyone else be interested? He wasn’t willing to go through that heartbreak again.
Far away from Yunnan where his loved ones lay dead, Birch retained no hope of fulfilling his promises. He crawled into his grief and cocooned himself against the world. He became, in their society, a reclusive bachelor. The only thing that gave him pleasure was his flying club. Soon after meeting the two boys, he had started a flying club and spent every Sunday with the kids. Their innocent smiles brightened his gloomy days and warmed his wounded heart. Being an “Uncle” was as close as he could come to being a father.
It was near the end of 1950 when several former colleagues invited Birch to a party to celebrate the New Year. He appeared wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit that fit his broad shoulders to perfection. His gray-blue tie lay neatly against a white shirt. Soon after they were settled at the luxurious clubhouse, several young women sitting at a nearby table noticed him. They cast longing glances at him, and one spoke animatedly, while the others covered their mouths to stifle giggles.
Birch paid little attention to the giddy young women, but one of his colleagues also noticed them. Du Ting walked over to their table. Soon the former tail gunner eased one girl onto his arm, and off they went, waltzing on the polished dance floor. And that was just the beginning. The entire evening was spent dancing and flirting with every girl there.