by Jennie Liu
Luli tears her watery eyes away from the baby and glances at me. Her smile pulls wider for a moment before she goes back to gazing at the baby. A faint smile stays on her face, that soft look. “Isn’t she amazing? I can’t believe it. And you! You were so strong!” She blinks several times until a wet track comes down her cheek. “It must’ve hurt so much. I could see it did. But look! Look at her.”
I glance down at the baby again. They all think she’s so cute, but all I see is a splotchy, squished face that’s puffed around the eyes. “She looks so strange.” I murmur, feeling distant and strange myself. I don’t feel the same about her as Luli does. I wonder why.
Almost as if she’s heard my thoughts, Luli says, “You’re tired. You need to rest.” She takes the baby from me and starts to get up, but a thin arm shoots out of the towel and the baby jerks awake. She starts crying again, short little bleats.
The nervous look springs back into Luli’s face. She calls to Dali, who’s sitting on the bunk across from us reading on her laptop.
“She’s probably hungry.” Dali puts her laptop down and comes over. “You’ll have to feed her,” she tells me matter-of-factly. “I’ll try to help you get started. It can be hard getting her to latch onto the breast.” She takes the baby from Luli and sits next to me.
I sigh. I really am so very tired, but I do as she says.
Chapter 23
Luli
My roommates drop off to sleep between two and three in the morning. Squeezed in with Yun and the baby on my bunk, I only catch a few snatches of sleep all night. Yun hardly moves. But she does snore deeply and loudly, disturbing the baby on her other side, who wriggles and twitches in her towel and makes strange snorts and shuddering pants that have me sitting up to squint at her in the darkness. She never fully wakes and seems to settle back down each time, but it takes ages for my own nerves to calm after each startle.
Everyone has a hard time getting up in the morning. An alarm beeps for what seems like forever before Shu shouts for someone to shut it off. The others stumble out of bed at the last minute, cooing at the baby before dragging off to the morning shift. “Make sure Yun drinks plenty of water to keep her milk going,” Dali tells me on her way out.
I get dressed, but I don’t go to work. I know I’ll be fined another 20 yuan, but I can’t leave the baby and Yun. She’s still weak, and she doesn’t know about newborns. Neither do I, really. Still, I can’t abandon Yun for all those hours.
Once all the girls have left, Yun hobbles to the toilet, wincing in pain, and I lie down on my side to watch over the baby sleeping on my bunk. I realize she’ll need clothes, diapers, pacifiers. What else? I think back to the Institute babies dressed in mismatched clothing and trapped in thick swaddles. They were placed flat on their backs in the line of cribs, staring at the ceiling. Their room always smelled of waste. I pinch up my face at the memory.
The baby’s small, round mouth begins moving, her little pink tongue slipping in and out, and her head turning side to side. She’s waking up, hungry. I will Yun to hurry back. The baby starts making her little cries. I pull her close to me and pat her nervously.
Yun finally comes back. I sit up, pick up the baby, and hold her out to Yun. “She’s hungry.”
Yun gingerly climbs back into the bed, leaning against the wall, and lifts her shirt.
I hand the baby to her. “She sounds like a baby goat, don’t you think?” I say.
Yun nods, though I’m not sure if she’s ever seen any goats. She fumbles with the baby, holding her like a bundle of wet laundry, trying to get her to latch on. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The baby fusses and cries harder, her face turning red.
“I can’t get her to do this!” Yun’s voice is sharp with frustration. She starts to put the baby aside.
“But you did it last night.” I run over to Shu’s bed and take her pillow. “Here, lift her up.” I push the pillow against Yun and help her put the baby on it. “Remember, you have to turn her toward you. Push your breast into her mouth.” I swallow my embarrassment at the word. After all, I’ve seen Yun half naked, a baby coming out of her.
I wish Dali were here, but I don’t say it out loud. We work at getting the baby to eat. The baby gobbles one second, then thrashes her head around discontentedly. Yun is getting impatient. I’m afraid she will give up, so I keep a smile stretched on my face the best I can, though the baby’s crying scares me and pulls at my nerves too.
Finally, the baby seems to settle into the feeding. Yun gives a deep sigh, closes her eyes, and rests her head against the wall.
“I’m going to get some food and drinks for you,” I tell her. “And some things for the baby. Clothes, diapers . . .”
Her face pinches up a little. I don’t know if it’s from what I said or if the baby has hurt her.
“I know!” I say in a rush. “I’ll get some formula and a bottle. That should be easier, right? We know how to feed babies from a bottle.”
Yun gives a tired little smile and nods once.
The door opens and my other three roommates, the ones who are working the night shift this week, file in. Right away, they see Yun and the baby.
There’s a long moment of silence before Hui, who’s the oldest in our dorm, turns to me. “What’s she doing back here? She had the baby?”
“Last night!” I smile proudly at Yun and the baby. “Shut the door now,” I urge the girls. “There’s a draft in the hall. I’m glad you’re back. I have to go out and buy things for the baby. I didn’t want to leave them alone.”
Hui closes the door while Jinghua and Liling bend for a better look.
“Why isn’t she at the hospital? Where’s her husband?” Hui asks.
“She had the baby here,” I say. “It was an emergency. It happened so fast.”
“Here!” Jinghua and Liling gasp.
I’m actually a bit tickled by the horrified shock on their faces. I try to catch Yun’s eye, but she’s gazing at the purple blanket around her legs. “All the others helped,” I explain. “And Dali from upstairs.”
“Really!” Liling slowly shakes her head, amazed.
“What about the father?” Hui asks again. She doesn’t smile.
I glance at Yun. Her jaw is set firm. The feeling of delight leaves me. I shake my head at Hui, not sure how much to say.
“Is he coming to get her?”
Yun is still staring down at the blanket, but I’m sure she’s been listening to every word, just unwilling to say anything. “No,” I answer.
Hui takes that in. She doesn’t say anything as she pulls off her coat and throws it on her bed. Liling takes off her coat as well, but as soon as she has it off, she’s back at my bunk with Jinghua, fawning over the baby. “I didn’t know you were going to have it so soon. We could have called the hospital for you,” she says to Yun.
Hui says to me, “What is she going to do now?”
We haven’t talked about a plan yet. I look at Hui helplessly for a moment. She’s always the strictest one in our room. Telling the girls to turn down their music or move their wet clothes hanging too close to her space. “She just had the baby in the middle of the night. She has to rest before anything else.”
“No husband?” she drills. “What about her family?”
“She’s like me,” I say. “Came out of the orphanage.”
Hui looks at Yun, at me, back at Yun as she takes off her work shirt, folds it, and places it in her locker. Gradually the stiffness seems to leave her. When Liling puts her finger in the baby’s hand and squeals her delight, Hui even smiles. Relief rushes through me.
“I’m going to go shopping now.” I put on my coat and tell Yun that I’ll be right back.
Hui, carrying her soap and washcloth, follows me into the hall. “Luli,” she says, “what’s she going to do?”
I take a deep breath, disappointed and cautious. I thought she had decided to ease up. “We haven’t talked about it yet. Everything just happened.”
/> “I don’t think this just happened.” She raises her eyebrows archly. “Did she break up with the father?”
I nod. I don’t tell her Yong is in jail. The point is, he isn’t going to help her. And I don’t want him to.
“She can’t stay here, Luli. With a baby! With everyone working so hard—overtime, the night shift. It’s fun for the girls right now, but we have to sleep. A crying baby will make us crazy.” I have to admit she’s not being unreasonable. The girls who have been forced to do the night shift are exhausted—and even crankier than the rest of us, who just have overtime shifts added.
“Besides. The dorm manager is going to find out. You can’t keep a baby quiet, and even if our roommates don’t say anything, you know the other girls on the hall will find out sooner or later.”
I glance nervously down the hall. I wasn’t worried about getting in trouble if I got caught sharing my bunk, but trying to keep a baby here would definitely get me fired. Then both of us—all three of us—would be kicked out of here with nowhere else to go. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it sorted out.” I think of Ma. The baby isn’t a boy like she expected, but maybe . . .
“Is she thinking about taking it to an orphanage?”
“No!” The word comes out loud and angry.
Hui blinks several times. I instantly regret shouting and peer down the hall to make sure I haven’t attracted any attention. I didn’t mean to snap, but now that I’ve seen the baby and held her, I can’t bear to think of Yun giving her away.
I lower my voice. “Our break for Spring Festival is just three days away. Everyone will be going home. Just let her stay through the break.” I try to speak calmly, but I can hear the pleading in my voice. “She just needs some time to recover. Then we’ll . . . take them to the baby’s grandma.” If we can’t think of a better option, we might be able to convince Yong’s ma to take the baby even though she isn’t a boy. From the way Yun talked about Ma, maybe there’s a chance.
“It’s not just my decision.” Hui’s face is still stiff, but my heart jumps because she doesn’t refuse. I know the other girls will be fine with it.
“I’ll ask the others when they get off their shifts,” I promise.
“But how are you going to keep it a secret?” Hui seems genuinely concerned now, not just being strict. “You’ll get found out. Then you’ll lose your job and be forced to leave before the break is over.”
I wish I’d asked the other girls to keep quiet about this. They skipped the morning meal and will work late, but the other meal times and the walk back to the dorm will give them plenty of time to talk.
“Where does the grandma live?” Hui asks. “If you have to travel any distance, you’d better work on getting your tickets. You’ve never traveled during the Spring Festival, you don’t realize how impossible it is.”
I duck my head to let her know I understand, but mostly I’m eager to get away.
***
I run to the closest shopping lane and get everything I think Yun and the baby will need from the crammed stalls. A bottle, some formula, a package of diapers that I hope will last at least a few days, a pink blanket with little white dots, a few onesies, and a miniature puffy purple coat. I would have liked to take my time fingering the tiny clothes and picking out just the right outfits for the baby—plus some gifts for Ma, who I am more and more convinced will agree to keep her—but I start to worry about Hui’s warning.
For weeks, I’ve been hearing everyone complain about the Spring Festival travel migration—hours spent at internet cafés trying to buy train or bus tickets in advance. Not having any place to go, I wasn’t affected by it. Now, the more I think about it, the more I want to get to the bus station and buy tickets.
I bring the baby things, some fried dough sticks, and some Cokes to the dorm and tell Yun my plan. She doesn’t say much—doesn’t seem excited or even relieved at the prospect of going back to Yong’s ma. But she doesn’t protest either. When I ask, she tells me the name of Ma’s village again. I set off for the bus station.
I’m there by mid-morning. See well before I reach the plaza outside the station, I can see that it’s mobbed. People are shoulder to shoulder in their thick coats, clutching their bags, in a disorderly mess that in no way resembles a line. I join the edge of the crowd, which is nearly overflowing into the street. A police officer comes up and motions with his nightstick for everyone to move forward. I squeeze up onto the curb as the buses screech by.
I strain to see over the heads. The entrance to the station seems so far away, and from what I glimpse of the wide-open doors, it’s crammed full of people. There is nothing to do but wait. The day is the color of smoke, but at least it isn’t raining or snowing. Gusts of wind whistle high over the heads of the crowd, swirling up stray plastic bags and paper. I press in tighter, using the people around me to block the blustering cold.
By early afternoon my stomach is rumbling. I can smell food and see steam blowing at the edge of the plaza, though I can’t see the carts. I don’t want to lose my place in the crowd, but after another hour’s gone by, I have to have something to eat. I start threading my way to the side of the plaza.
“Hot boiled eggs! Hot boiled eggs! Good and hot!”
I head toward the voice until I come to the middle of the station yard. An old woman stuffed in a thick, padded coat sits on the wide ledge of a concrete planter with a coal stove in front of her. People jostle all around, but they give her stove a small space as she scoops up eggs and hands them out. I wait my turn until she sees me.
“How many?” she asks.
I hold up six fingers and she begins dipping into the pot.
“You going home then?” she says as she drops the eggs into a plastic bag. “Good girl who helps your family?” She twists the bag and holds it out to me.
I smile shyly and duck my head as I dig out my money. She thinks I’m like Dali—working in the city, making the annual trip home. A lucky girl who has her own money and a family she’s helping.
I take my eggs and dive back into the throng.
By the time I make it into the building, I’ve been standing in the cold so long that my hands and face are frozen. My elbows are sore from the poking I’ve had to do to keep my position as people try to push by me. The station is lit white with fluorescent light, and it’s turning dark outside.
At last I make it to the ticket window. I ask the agent, a sharp-looking woman with close-cropped hair, for two tickets to Yellow Grain Village. She punches her keyboard for several moments. “No tickets left to Yellow Grain Village,” she says. “Next!”
The man behind me barges forward, pushing me aside. My heart plummets. I waited so long and was dismissed so quickly! In my distress, I almost let myself be swallowed back up by the crowd. But as much as I want to get back to the dorm and check on Yun and the baby, I know I have to get them to Ma’s.
I thrust out my elbows and wedge myself in front of the man, even though he is already talking through the hole in the glass. The clerk’s mouth forms a little o shape and her eyebrows shoot up beneath the fringe of her bangs. I can hear the man muttering curses behind me.
“But what about anything next week?”
“What town again?”
I raise my voice. “Yellow Grain Village.”
She taps at her computer again. “Nothing for three weeks. Everything is already booked through the Spring Festival. After the Festival, everything is open. You want to book?”
I bite my lips, feeling the sharp cut of my teeth. Three weeks is too long to wait. I have to find some way to get to Ma’s before everyone gets back from Spring Festival.
Chapter 24
Yun
Luli comes back with three hard-boiled eggs for me. Her first breathless words are “How’s the baby?”
I grimace, looking at the lumpy infant lying next to me on the bed. “She’s crying all the time. I’m so worn out. I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”
“Well, of course you’
re worn out! You’ve barely had anything to eat all day!” She sits down on the edge of the bunk and peels the eggs, careful to get every bit of shell off the whites, which are no longer white, but stained brown and veined with tea and soy. She hands me the first one, and I bite into it even though I don’t want it. It’s cold, and the yolk is chalky in my mouth. I take a swig of Coke to get it down. When Luli turns to pick up the baby, I set the Coke can next to the bed and place the other half of the egg on top of it.
“I couldn’t get any tickets though,” Luli says. “It really was as bad as everyone says.” The bright look on her face clouds. “There won’t be any trouble getting tickets after Spring Festival, but I wish we could go now. I’m afraid that since I’m skipping work, they’ll fire me and make me leave the dorm.”
“It’s just three more days until the break. Go back to work.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I start to feel nervous. I don’t want to stay by myself with the baby again.
Luli shakes her head. “You need help. You can’t take care of her by yourself. How was it today?”
I shrug. I feel a tiredness so deep in my bones I could have completely tuned out the baby’s squalling, except that Jinghua and Liling huffed and grumbled and put their pillows over their heads trying to sleep. Despite having fussed over the baby earlier, they clearly weren’t interested in pitching in. Hui got up to help me once, but her bleary face showed she wasn’t happy to do it. I spent all day pushing a bottle into the baby’s mouth, trying to keep it quiet.
If I tell Luli that, she’ll feel guilty for leaving me alone. So instead I say, “Your roommates had a hard time trying to sleep, but they were nice enough. They gave me snacks before they left for their shift.”
The baby’s fussing again. Luli stands up, puts her to her shoulder, and jounces her as if there’s nothing more natural. She walks back and forth, patting and humming. The baby doesn’t stop crying.