Fish Heads and Duck Skin

by Lindsey Salatka

  Because colorful construction paper signs hung everywhere, from every surface, by scraps of yarn.

  “Welcome home, Mommy!” one sign said.

  “Get well soon!” said another one.

  “I love you soooooooooooooooooo much,” said another.

  Several signs were written in Mandarin characters that I couldn’t read. I looked at Daniel and shrugged.

  “I think they convey a similar sentiment,” he said, waving at the others.

  I giggled, almost appreciating him.

  There was a lot of lovely, adorable scribble scrabble art, compliments of Lila, and some additional hand-drawn family portraits, compliments of Piper. Each included a yellow circle sun in the top right corner, a few M-shaped birds in the sky, and Daniel and I float-standing on green grass, holding hands. Me with big hair, Daniel with not so much. In every picture, Piper stood in between us, and Lila was depicted in a dark corner and so miniscule, she was tucked between two of the shorter blades of grass, like an ant.

  I looked at Daniel. “She’s never been one for siblings.” I shrugged. “Which right now, could be either gut-wrenching or comforting, but since I feel only numb, I can only laugh.”

  Daniel furrowed his brow and then dropped his head, perhaps wisely choosing, once again, not to speak.

  I sighed. “Where are the artists?”

  He looked up. “At the park with Ayi.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling disappointed that I couldn’t thank them and kiss their fuzzy heads.

  Daniel grabbed my hand and walked me into the kitchen. “And speaking of Ayi, she prepared quite a treat for you last night. I told her you were sick and that’s why you hadn’t come home, and boy, did she whip up a vat of something special. She was chopping in here for quite some time and the apartment started to smell amazing. When she finally left, I grabbed the ladle to sample her concoction, but when I gave it a stir, a chicken head came floating up at me, like this, and then two chicken feet bobbed to the surface, like this.” He made a chicken face and moved his hands around like floating chicken feet.

  “Is that your impression of Chinese chicken soup?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He screwed up his face and waved his claws again.

  I smiled, then sighed and looked down. “I’m a little bit sorry,” I whispered.

  He brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m a little bit sorry, too.”

  I looked away and then back at him. “I’m, I just think you should know—I’ll never be the same,” I said, my lips quivering.

  He grabbed my shoulders. “I know. You won’t. And I won’t expect you to.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I’m sorry for what happened, and for letting you down. And I’m sorry for blaming you for things that weren’t completely your fault.”

  “I’m sorry for doing all the same things.”

  He shook his head. “But you’re not to blame this time; it’s me—I’ve been so focused on my job that I’ve lost sight of what really matters: you, and them.” He waved at the decorations.

  “I remember feeling like that,” I said softly.

  “I’m pulled in so many directions that I’m doing everything badly.”

  “When I was in your shoes, I sucked at everything. Regular human interaction exhausted me. It all felt like too much.”

  He nodded. “Try it with a language barrier! And then, I don’t know, I couldn’t even get my head around the idea of more kids. But now that …” his voice quivered. He gulped and shook his head. “This was our dream, remember? And not that long ago, another baby was part of it. But then our focus changed and … I don’t know. I never should have taken this job; I should have accepted a position I was less excited about back home. I brought us here thinking things would be different. That our lives would be more fulfilling. That I could somehow redeem myself. But I can’t do that because I’m the same person in a different place, making the same mistakes but bigger. I wanted to become the man I was meant to be, but the man I was is the only one looking back from the mirror. And he’s nothing like the one you deserve.” He let go of my shoulders and looked away from me, blinking in the direction of the soup.

  “He’s exactly the one I deserve!”

  “No, he’s not.”

  I grabbed his hands and held them up between us. “He’s a great dad and an honorable man. He has incredible vision and patience, and he’s so, so smart. He tries his best, and he puts up with a lot. And no, he’s not perfect, and his plans don’t always work out, but at least he’s trying, and that’s enough. He is enough. You are enough.”

  Daniel shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “No, I’m not. I’m terrible at being human; I can’t figure it out.”

  “I can’t figure it out either!” I squeezed his hands harder. “But did you ever think that maybe that’s because we’re kids trapped in adult bodies? Trying to understand our place in this world and what it should look like and what our role in it should be? Daniel, look at me.” I touched his chin and lifted it. He wore the expression of a confused little boy; his blue eyes blinked. “If we’re horrible at being human, isn’t it better that we’re horrible humans together? I think so. We just need to have each other’s backs. And we can do that.” I shuffled close to him and nuzzled my nose above his clavicle.

  He tensed. “That tickles!” he said. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I closed my eyes and turned into the crook of his shoulder. I felt the evenness of his breath and admired his stillness. How does he do that so easily? I wondered.

  After a few minutes he pulled me away but held onto my shoulders with a soft touch. “Next month I need to renegotiate my contract. I don’t want to renew it; I want to move home,” he said. “I want us to do this right, in a place that’s easier to manage.”

  “But it’s not easier back home! The challenges are different, but this life thing is hard everywhere.”

  He exhaled and shook his head. “Not this hard.”

  I paused, looking at the signs the girls made in the living room and thinking it finally looked like home. Then I thought about Barbara and the babies.

  “But what if we’re in the deepest, darkest, hardest part and we’re just about to clear it and the forecast predicts blue skies ahead?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not feeling it, Tina. I’m ready to chalk up our time in Shanghai to a lesson learned.”

  I looked down and sighed. I wanted both to go and to stay. To make peace with this place and myself in it, and also to support Daniel like I’d promised. But I didn’t want to dwell in uncertainty and indecision, to agonize for another second over where we should live, what I should do, and who I should be. Tears flowed down my cheeks.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

  53.

  A D&C, two weeks of self-pity in adult diapers, and xiuxi yi xia, which means to rest a bit. This can also be a command, as in, “Xiuxi yi xia! Take a load off!” These were my midwife’s exact orders.

  Because of my mandated rest, I missed mahjong and the conversation with Barbara about the opportunity to help babies, which I had decided to decline with regret. I also cancelled my Mandarin lessons and didn’t respond to one of Jennifer’s seventy-five emails. Email felt like the wrong forum to break the news. Finally, I called her. At four dollars a minute and with significant delays, I meant to keep it quick.

  “I had a miscarriage,” I blurted as soon as she answered.

  No response.

  “Hello? Jennifer?” I started to wonder if we had a bad connection. Then it struck me—maybe she was angry that I’d left her in the dark. I didn’t blame her; in a sense, I’d disappeared on her, too.

  The sobs finally traveled through space. And finally, this single sentence arrived in my ear. “I’M SO SORRY I THOUGHT THAT MAY HAVE BEEN WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I DIDN’T HEAR FROM YOU BECAUSE YOU TEND TO RETREAT INTO YOURSELF AND I KNEW YOU WOULD TELL ME WHEN YOU WERE READY AND (INHALE) I SEE WOMEN WHO MISCARRY EVERYDAY AND IT’S (INHALE) SO AWFUL AND
THERE’S NO REAL RECOGNITION FOR THIS IN OUR SOCIETY AND (INHALE) I’M SO SAD THAT YOU’RE THERE AND I’M HERE AND I CAN’T HUG YOU AND I HOPE DANIEL IS OKAY ARE YOU OKAY?”

  “I’m okay, I mean I’m not okay, but I’m okay, if that makes any sense,” I said.

  “It makes perfect sense.” She whimpered and blew her nose. “Are you getting hugged? You need to be hugged, Tina, a lot. Don’t push people away right now. That’s your tendency, we know this.”

  I smiled. “Believe it or not, I have a whole committee of huggers over here.”

  “I’m very relieved to hear that.” This time I could hear her breathing as we both sat quietly, unable to assign more words to the moment.

  “I’m coming home,” I finally said softly.

  “Really? To visit?”

  “No, for good, in about six months,” I said with a quivering voice and then gulped down the rising knot.

  “You’re, you sound like you’re breaking the second piece of bad news.”

  “No, this is good news. It will be good. It has to be.”

  “But what about Daniel’s job?”

  “He hasn’t told them yet. I doubt they’ll have a spot for him back in the US since he’s working for a cash-strapped start-up. He’s going to start talking to headhunters, but I think I can get my old job back, so we’ll be fine.” I took a deep breath and tried to sound perky. “I can hop back on that ole corporate ladder! I’ll be a couple rungs down from the position I left, but I’m sure I can climb back to where I was pretty fast. The rat race is probably the best place for someone like me, anyway. I’m a, you know, a ballbuster.” I wiped my eyes.

  “Are you sure about this, Tina? Your emails have sounded so much happier lately, like you were really getting the hang of it over there.”

  I sighed. “Maybe I was. My head is so jumbled right now, I don’t know how I feel anymore, but I do know that this place has been intense and difficult. And wonderful, too, but in different ways than home is wonderful. I’ll miss all the time with my girls, but it would need to come to an end eventually anyway. This was never supposed to be forever.”

  “So what do you do now?”

  “I need to wrap up a few things, tell my tai chi coach, and before you know it, I’ll be home, filling you in on the latest motivational speaker, which you will soundly ignore until I pester you so much that you cave and go to a workshop with me. It’ll be great! Just like the old days.”

  I could hear her sigh. Almost see her head droop.

  “Hey, I gotta go, this chat is costing me half a semester of Piper’s preschool tuition. I’ll email you soon, okay?”

  “Please take care of yourself, Tina. Take some time to honor—”

  “Of course! Don’t be silly. I’ll be very nice to me, almost as nice as you are. Signing off from Ork now, Jennifer. Nanoo nanoo.”

  54.

  The following Wednesday, I went looking for Mr. Han to break the news. He wasn’t in the alley. He wasn’t at Mt. Trashmore. He wasn’t at our favorite baozi shack or at the corner where he occasionally played chess. It was noon, he would only ever be outside, somewhere on his block, I thought. I started to worry. I knocked on his door.

  His sister answered. Her gray hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and she was wearing pajamas and a pair of cartoon dog slippers. Anywhere else this would have indicated an illness or crisis of some sort. But this was China, where midday pjs equaled status. Yet, Jie Jie looked pale and distraught instead of angry and irritated, her more common demeanor.

  “Ni hao, Mr. Han zai zhe li ma?” Hello, is Mr. Han here?

  “Bù zài! Bù zài!” Not here! Not here!

  “Ta qu na li?” Where did he go?

  “Tā qù guìlín sǎomù! Dànshì tā bú shūfú. Wǒ jiào tā bié qù, dànshì tā bù tīng! Tā cóng bù tīng wǒ dehuà! Wǒ dānxīn tā niánjì dàle, yīgè rén bùnéng zǒu tài yuǎn.” He went to Guilin! To sweep the graves of our ancestors. But he’s sick and I told him not to go. But he didn’t listen! He never listens to me! And now I’m scared. He’s too old to go so far alone.

  “Ta shenme shihou qu?” When did he go?

  “Jīn tiān zǎo shang, zhēn zǎo. Tài zhǎo lè! Tài lěng le!” This morning very early. He took the 7:18 a.m. train. Too early! Too cold!

  I turned and ran.

  55.

  Twenty-five minutes later, I materialized in front of Daniel’s desk like a transported Star Trek character except red-faced, sweaty, and with lungs on fire. The traffic was horrendous, and my bike had a flat, so I’d chosen to sprint there instead of taxi.

  Daniel was on the phone, as was Cinderella and his new assistant Clyde. All three of them looked alarmed. I bent over and grabbed my thighs, trying to get my breath back and quell the red balls that were bouncing in my vision.

  “I’ll call you back,” Daniel said and hung up.

  “I’m leaving,” I said before he could speak, looking at him between the undersides of my eyebrows, barely able to get the words out between gasps.

  “Tina.” he stood up and frowned at me. “I thought—”

  “No, I’m not, leaving you, I’m taking, the train, to Guilin, to find, Mr. Han.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m going to find, Mr. Han—you can’t, talk me out of it. I just wanted, to tell you, so you didn’t think, I disappeared again. I’ll be back.”

  “But Guilin is a big city, how do you think you can find him there?”

  “I have a plan.”

  He looked at me like he was deciding what to say next. Then he sighed. “When are you going?”

  “Now,” I huffed.

  “Do you need money?”

  “Yes,” I puffed.

  He pulled out his wallet and slapped a fat wad of red and white Chairman Mao decorated bills on his desk. “You’re in luck, I just went to the bank,” he said. “Rent’s due.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” He looked worried.

  “No, you stay with the kids. I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded slowly. “Do you need a ride to the train station?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Cinderella can take you. He bought a new electric bike last week. Didn’t you, Cindy?” He leaned back and looked at the man sitting at the desk next to him.

  Cinderella nodded happily. “It has pedals plus battery, great for hills!”

  I stood and dropped my hands onto my hips. “We need to go fast, does your new bike go fast?”

  “Very fast, very fast,” he said, nodding enthusiastically.

  Fast is a relative term, of course, but considering the traffic and coupled with the fact that he seemed to prefer driving on sidewalks, it was by far the quickest mode of travel at that juncture. As soon as he pulled up to the train station, I kissed him on the cheek and said, “You’ve always been my favorite princess.” Then I hopped off and ran toward the entrance.

  56.

  “Qǐng gěi wǒ yī zhāng Yī diǎn wǔshí fēn de guǎngzhōu gāotiě chēpiào.” One ticket to Guangzhou, 1:50 bullet train, please.

  “Tóu děng, èr děng háishì sān děng?” First, second, or third class?

  I did a quick calculation, then patted the lump in my pocket. “Tou deng,” I said, feeling energized. My plan was unfolding perfectly.

  Because without even looking at the type of train that left at 7:18 a.m., I knew Mr. Han hadn’t taken a bullet train. The cost differential would have been too much for him. Mr. Han may have been wealthy—I didn’t have a clue, and I didn’t care—but like most Chinese people from his generation, regardless of his bank balance, he was frugal, frugal being a nice way to say excruciatingly tight.

  I also knew, from my transportation lesson with Katie, that the best way from Shanghai to Guilin was through Guangzhou, and the bullet train from Shanghai to Guangzhou took nine hours. The slow train, on the other hand, took twenty-five hours, with no heat or AC, sometimes no seats, and shared space w
ith livestock. But that wouldn’t have deterred Mr. Han. He would be sitting in the least expensive seat available, no matter how terrible. I would beat him to Guangzhou with time to spare, maybe even enough time for a foot massage near the train station. I figured there had to be a massage parlor near there, and my poor feet had just been pummeled by my speedy cross-town dash in knock-off Ugg boots.

  I would meet Mr. Han as he disembarked in Guangzhou with a pack of wet wipes, a steamy dumpling, and a ticket back to Shanghai. This would not be his season to pull a vanishing act.

  57.

  Twenty hours later in Guangzhou, Mr. Han walked toward me on the train platform looking disoriented, which was understandable considering his likely horrendous journey and minimal, if any, sleep. But still, my chest tightened with fret when I saw him.

  He looked even more ancient than usual and extremely feeble. He didn’t seem to recognize me, and I wasn’t sure if he even knew where he was. He looked downward and leaned heavily on his cane, clutching a beat-up leather satchel with his other hand. His clothes looked like they’d been pulled from either side in an extended tug-of-war match that ended in a draw.

  I ran up to him and took his hand. He didn’t stop. “Mr. Han, it’s me.” I squeezed his hand. No acknowledgment. “Mr. Han, It’s Tina.” Nothing. “Mr. Han, can you see me?” I waved my hand in front of his eyes. No response. “MR. HAN!” I finally yelled into his face. He turned to smile at me but kept shuffling.

  “Ting Ting, Nǐ hǎo ma?” he asked casually, like he’d just stepped off a luxury sleeper train from Monaco.

  “Mr. Han, are you okay? I’m worried about you; you don’t look well.”

  “I’m a little bit sick,” he admitted. “Yǒu yīdiǎn bú shūfú.”

  “What kind of sick?”

  “Lādùzi,” he grunted. “Diarrhea, from eating too many cold foods and not wearing socks.”

  I grimaced. “Sometimes, when I have diarrhea, I just tell people I have a stomachache.”