Two Lives

by A. Yi

  “But I love you. You know that?” she said.

  I wanted to go back and close the door. She went on: “I don’t want to ruin your relationship with Lili. I don’t want anything, don’t want status, you know. I just need you to love me.”

  “It’s not that.” I pushed her shoulders away and walked out. She kept following. “Do you hate me or something?” she said.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what? I don’t want anything from you. I just want you to let me love you.”

  “It’s not like that.” My voice grew louder.

  “Then what?”

  I pushed her away and walked back then closed the door. I thought this was clear enough. But ever since then, whenever Lili was away, she would pester me. “Don’t you love me?” she always asked. “Not at all?”

  No. But. How can I put it? I faltered. Speaking was difficult. Every word should neither make her hopeless nor hopeful. I did want to say: stop dreaming. Yes, I fucked you, so what? Fucking you doesn’t mean loving you. In fact, I didn’t really fuck you. I didn’t stick it in your vagina. I didn’t get it in so it doesn’t count as penetrating you. Since I haven’t penetrated you, why do you think I should be responsible? You should go to those who have penetrated you. You women are like that, seeing that thing as special property, whoever penetrates you is responsible, but I didn’t penetrate you, right? My penis didn’t go into you.

  Sometimes she didn’t come back for days. She would call from a phone booth. In front of Lili I asked with exasperation: “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” she always answered with sorrow.

  “What is it?”

  The other end would fall into an annoying silence. “Who is it?” Lili asked. “No one,” I told Lili and hung up. A moment later, the phone would ring again. “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted. It was always silent on the other end. When Lili wasn’t there, I could hear her crying. She cried and said, “Chen Qing, let me tell you something.” Then she went back to crying. I dared not hang up too soon. That could be the prelude to her going to her death. I coaxed her and sometimes shouted, “Enough, enough, enough. I really don’t understand why you like an old man like me. I have no money, and I’m no good at sex.” Or, “I’m dying. I feel short of breath, ah, I’m begging you, I’m begging you to stop torturing me.”

  If I turned off the phone she would rush over.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Lili asked, stroking her dry hair. She neither washed her face nor ate, eyes sunken, completely wrecked herself. I thought Lili was going to find out. But when I looked up to steal a glance, I found Spring wasn’t looking at me but at the floor, sighing. She felt wronged, tears trickling down. “What’s the matter with you?” Lili said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Who hurt you?”

  “No one.”

  I wished she could take this chance to make some oblique accusation. But she just kept sighing without saying anything. “Poor you.” Lili settled her down and walked toward me. I nodded. I felt it was all unreal. But what is reality? Lili looked at me, pupils gradually dilating. Anger and fear, like two armies, converged from all over her body and rushed to her face. She looked at me, then at Spring. You did this? Even you are capable of this? Are you conspiring to kill me? She kept backing away. When she believed we were blanketed and totally dominated by shame, she broke into sobs. She slammed the door and left, leaving us behind, then brought more and more people to visit us. More and more police, more and more people from the residents’ committee, more and more neighbors. Or she just kicked us away, ripped everything off that wasn’t locked or nailed down or stuck tight and smashed them up one by one in front of us. Then she cried and cried, then had spasms and epileptic fits, then lay back down on the ground crying without pause, then stood up and banged her head against the wall, then used the knife to cut her throat. The two sternocleidomastoid muscles, like two strings, broke with one cut. Then her head dropped down.

  Spring’s lips opened several times. From the shape of her lips I could even guess what she was about to say. She had stolen her friend’s man and felt too ashamed to speak. I hoped she would spell it out right away, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted to kill someone. But when Lili walked over, her lips closed at once. She waited until Lili went to the bathroom and started to mumble again. Unlike me, Lili could stand the humming of the exhaust fan. She had it on. Spring suddenly whispered:

  “I just couldn’t get over you.”

  She had wanted to fucking talk to me. I scowled at her. Sitting, she kept trembling. I’d thought of myself as the lamb waiting to be slaughtered, but in fact she was. I had a sense of being in control. She’d made up her mind to handle the reproach and wait for me to take her in. I was silent. The exhaust fan in the bathroom was humming. She started to cry and said: “You don’t love me at all?” She gathered up the last bit of strength of her body, which only kindled a faint flame in her eyes.

  “No,” I said.

  In a daze she walked toward the balcony. I glanced at her sideways. She pulled open the window. I went over. Her hands clung to the windowsill. I grabbed her elbow, got pushed away.

  “Don’t do something stupid,” I said.

  She looked at me then at the ground under the window. She took a few breaths, took down the clothes from the clothes hangers and walked back to her room. A moment later, she emerged, carrying a bag, then opened the door and left.

  A few days later, she summoned me to the city moat and cried hard every few minutes. I sat beside her like a rock. She talked on and on. In the end I couldn’t tell what she was talking about. She put her tears away as if putting away an object, said: “I’m asking you one last time, do you love me or not?”

  I shook my head. You wait. She regarded me nastily and with determination said: “I’ll let you watch me die.”

  16

  I didn’t like her, but I still knocked on her door. I knocked to the tempo of one, two, three: one knock, pause; two knocks, pause; three knocks. There was no response. I was a bit disappointed and walked back to my bedroom. I didn’t like her, but my privates started to expand as soon as Lili left home. I touched it as if touching a sulky little monster lying on the ground. Bound to finish what it wants to finish.

  She had a change of heart, or was hopelessly ashamed.

  I heard her walking out of the bedroom in slippers toward where I was. I swallowed. But she turned to the bathroom. She gargled, brushed her teeth, gargled, sprinkled water on her face and used the toilet for a while then walked back to her room. My door was open a crack. I couldn’t jump over and push her down. She would change out of her nightgown, put on her outside clothes, and go out. That was the end of it. I was very down. But that’s all right.

  She fussed for a long time. Women are like that, comparing two garments over and over before an outing. If you want to go out, go out now. I rolled over to the other side of the bed, facing the window. Though the curtain was drawn tight, light seeped infinitely in. In fact human beings are like mindless animals led about by sexual desires, walking and sniffing, head down, for the smell of women. Just go now. When I turned around, I saw her standing beside the bed, hands in her pockets. She was barefoot. I sat up and ripped open her nightgown. The white light of her smooth belly and slightly arched groin flickered, hugged by her arms, covered.

  We didn’t say anything. Everywhere was the sound of my breathing. She pushed me away and lay down. She twisted left and right, seemingly settled, then she sat up, removed her nightgown, and lay back down. I pulled down my underwear. But she still twisted left and right, as if trying to find the right way to lie. I bent down and stared at myself down there and her down there. Don’t. Don’t do that. She held my cheeks and pulled my head down. She opened my lips and teeth with the tip of her tongue and stirred in my mouth. Although she’d brushed her teeth, her mouth still had the foul smell
exclusive to the malnourished. I almost stopped at some points but was held by her. I opened my eyes. Damn. Her face bulged, heaving, and her tightly shut eyelids twitched slightly. She was like a stupid pig savoring my saliva, forgetful and drunk.

  “Let’s talk awhile,” she said.

  “After.”

  “Let’s talk first.”

  She let me lie beside her and held my hand. Her body gave off dry steam. I placed her hand on my privates. We lay like two innocent playmates for a while. She turned her face and said: “Do you really love me?” I didn’t reply. She went on: “Tell me the truth.”

  “I do,” I said.

  My hand wandered over her body. She let tears out. When her tears came, I knew it was bad. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, or a free woman. “Okay.” Teary-eyed, she clenched her teeth, spread out her body as big as she could and let herself be exploited like a detached torturee. She lay there like that, her body dry. I couldn’t get it into her no matter what. “I’m sorry,” she said and shut her eyes, another pearl of a tear coming. The thing started to ache after a few thrusts. That clump of hay, dry and spiky, covering the inaccessible crevice. I figured even if someone managed to poke into it he’d be scraped raw. Lying on her was like lying on a rough bundle of firewood.

  “There’s no such a thing as rape,” I said.

  “Sorry.”

  “If a woman doesn’t co-operate, a man can’t possibly get in.”

  “Sorry. I don’t want this either.” She started to cry. “I thought it would work this time.”

  “Has it ever worked?”

  I crawled out of bed and put on my underwear. She came over and grabbed my hand, was shaken off by me. I put on pajamas. Whether it was for subjective reasons or objective ones, I had to punish her. She lay there pathetically. She didn’t get wet. She couldn’t help it. This man did nothing to conceal his disappointment, anger, and disgust. She was shivering, every part of her body in the posture to hug me, but I was going to walk off mercilessly. I looked at her one last time. She looked down and hid herself in a sea of guilt. But when I turned around, she stumbled down, hectically stripped off my pants and underpants, and held the thing in her mouth.

  This felt much better. I closed my eyes. Soon it was my turn to be useless – for maybe 10 or less than 10 times back and forth. I wanted to grab her head to stop her sucking, but half had already gushed out. I could only rock her head to make her suck faster. “Too much hassle in the beginning,” I said. She raised her head to look at me and licked some off the corner of her mouth. “Hard so long then out in one punch,” I said. She found tissues and carefully wiped me. I stood there, shrouded in an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Everything was meaningless and boring. I watched her pull up my underpants and pants, gripping the ball of semen-soiled tissue. I watched her tidy up the bedding and fold it back into shape. I let her do these things. Then from the door came the sound of a key being inserted. I woke up from the inexplicably and deep-rooted sense of emptiness, legs shaking. The key would turn around twice. The two bedrooms in our house were four to five meters apart. Like a naked rabbit, Spring grabbed her nightgown and leaped back to her room, clenching the semen-tainted tissue ball. Lili opened the door and habitually regarded herself in the wall mirror. She turned left, then right, tipped up her head, and brushed the dust off the tip of her nose. She kicked off her shoes and changed into slippers. Spring let the door shut.

  I remained standing. When Lili walked over, I sat down. If she had been smarter, she would have associated the strange rustling and behavior with adultery. Women have that inherent ability.

  “I’m feeling a bit feverish,” I said feebly, blushing. Lili touched my forehead then hers. The same temperature, she couldn’t tell the difference. She said: “Right, look at yourself, you can’t take care of yourself at all.” Frowning, she went to get me hot water. Water gurgled into the bottom of the cup. She raised her head. There was time for her brain to think about what was wrong. But she couldn’t come up with anything. She saw the cup was full and walked over, holding it. Spring’s door was quietly closed. In fact, until Lili went out again, she didn’t know if Spring was home. Watching Lili find the paper and go out in haste, I thought of Spring’s shameless voice. Spring said, licking that stuff I ejaculated: “But I feel, no matter what, I like you so much.”

  It was so meaningless.

  17

  “All right.” She closed the door. Sorry. Before I’d figured what happened, I just let it end. My soul was empty, as if being shaved clean by fierce wind. Even the ground I stood on began to come apart. I fell into the bottomless abyss as the ground became weightless. At the thought of my penis going into her body, I felt empty. Nothing was as urgent and necessary as this, for which I would give up everything. I hadn’t had sex with Lili for a long time, hard to get up, we almost forgot about it. Thinking about it now wears me out completely. I wanted to lift up the beauty’s skirt and get into her body. Her knees bent, trembling, her thighs giving a soft glow, her belly and breasts heaving slightly. She would suddenly cringe and moan as if stung by an insect.

  But I pushed her way.

  I fell on the deathbed of regret. I saw the dying self looking at the present self, unable to get over the night. The night when the golden chance came, but nothing happened because of unnecessary courtesy and morality was like a piece of steel piercing the heart of our life. The dying self, stubborn as a kid, with tears rolling out, kept moaning. But I explained to him by the bed that this was poison not to be touched. One night’s pleasure would yield betrayal, a split, murder, and irrevocable destruction. But these eloquent words were only to cover the fear I had at the moment. What I was fucking thinking about was how to put it in her body and nothing else.

  I strode toward her room. When my fingers touched the door, I grew wary. It wasn’t that I wanted to back off. The door was louder than usual. It went squeak squeak. She lay sideways to the window, flicking the cigarette ash into the ashtray. She didn’t turn around.

  “Are you hungry?” I said. She waved a hand. “I’m a bit hungry,” I went on.

  This was different from what I’d imagined. She continued to flick cigarette ash. I’d thought we would quickly hug and tear at each other’s clothes. “Are you unwell?” I asked. I could hardly stand. I allowed myself to sit on a corner of the mattress. I felt my weight sink down. “Don’t drink too much,” I said.

  “I’m fine.” Her speech was drunk.

  “Fine is good.”

  She didn’t speak, maybe getting sleepy.

  “Try to drink a little less,” I went on. I thought I’d made myself very clear. But she embarrassed me. I stood up. “Get me some hot water, would you?” she said. Although the last two words made me uncomfortable, I still saw it as the most pleasant task.

  I poured in half hot water and half cold. The water was gurgling down, and the thing had become extremely hard. I waited for it to soften a little and walked back. My heart had never pounded so hard.

  “Thanks,” she said. She pulled the blanket to cover her bare thighs.

  “How’s business?” I said and sat back on the corner of the mattress.

  “Same as always.”

  “I see you don’t go to work much.”

  None of your business whether I go or not. She didn’t speak. I went on: “Don’t work too hard.” She sat up to drink the water. She drank half and lay back down. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You know what, they say you meet the right person at the wrong time, or you meet the wrong person at the right time,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Or the wrong person meets the wrong person, or the right person meets the right person. But when the right person meets the right person, the chance has already slipped away.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you know?” She sat up.
From her face, you couldn’t tell whether she was interested in you or not. “I know,” I said and grabbed her leg underneath the blanket. It tried to pull away. I grabbed it tightly. It didn’t struggle.

  “Don’t do that,” she said.

  I crawled toward her. She looked down at me. I felt I was a dog. “Don’t do that,” she went on. I found her breasts. My hands were big but they couldn’t cover her breasts. They were good – like springy balloons. “Not right.” She brushed away my hands. “Don’t do that.”

  “I just want to.”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “You will be soon.”

  I pushed up her T-shirt. She could have tugged it down, but her head twisted, co-operating to pull it off. “Sorry, I’m not in the mood,” she said sincerely. I lay over her, sucking her. I was about to lose control. When it was almost time, I stripped off her skirt and panties. The area wasn’t different from other women’s but I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I stared directly until her knees bent and her thighs closed. It was giving off clean steam. As if the heat from drunkenness was evaporating there. I parted her legs. “Sorry,” was all she could only say afterward. I knew why she said it. Her privates were dry and burning. Even with water poured over it every second, it dried up immediately. It was a fucking inaccessible furnace, a foolproof chastity lock.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “You really aren’t interested in me,” I said.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Such good things rarely happen to me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, just afraid.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I’m not, it is. I hate it.”

  “Don’t be afraid, it’ll be all right, you have to open up.”

  “I know. Sorry.”

  I lost interest. I’d say I had an affair, but I didn’t really get anything. I tried to let her hold it in her mouth. She just shook her head in pain, so I gave up. When I was leaving, she said: “We could go to the bathtub.”