Girls on the Line

by Jennie Liu

  All day with the crying, I thought about the Institute. The babies and little ones, dull and silent most of the time, suddenly wailing around the mealtimes. I remember Luli picking them up sometimes and cuddling them. The first time I saw her do it, I was so puzzled that I asked what she was doing. She looked at me strangely and simply said, “Holding her.”

  “Do you think she’s hungry?” Luli asks now. “Maybe we should feed her.”

  “I’ve been feeding her all day!”

  Still, Luli gets a bottle and starts feeding her. She gazes down at the baby, her face as fond as I’ve ever seen it. I wonder if there is something wrong with me that I don’t feel like that.

  Even if I wanted to keep her, there’s no way I could work and take care of a baby. And if I’m not working I’ll never pay off the Family Planning fines. Which means the baby won’t get a hukou. She won’t be able to go to school, or get medical care, or find a decent job when she’s old enough. I think of how Yong grew up without a hukou, how his family blames that for everything that’s gone wrong in his life. At least in an orphanage, she’d get registered properly.

  If I take her to the Institute, would I leave her outside the gatehouse when the gatekeeper isn’t looking, or would I just march her in and sign away my right to her? The only thing that stopped me from taking her today is that I’m too weak.

  But once she’s at the Institute, then what? I’m still in a mess. I can barely sit up right now—it’s not as if I can march into the job center and get a new position tomorrow. And Luli’s putting her own job at risk every second she keeps me here.

  I’m still wondering if Yong can sell the baby for private adoption. It’s what he was planning to do all along—I’m sure of that now. The money could carry me over until I get a position.

  But I don’t see how I can care for her even one more day.

  “Maybe you should go ahead and take her to the Institute,” I say.

  Luli’s eyes snap to me, panicked.

  “That way I’ll be able to get my energy back,” I rush on. “And I can go back to work after the Spring Festival. It’ll be easy to get a position then.”

  “Yun, we can’t. Don’t you remember what it was like there?”

  “There is nothing wrong with this baby,” I remind her, a little impatiently. “She would get a family pretty quickly. And she doesn’t feel like mine. I don’t even know if I like her.”

  Luli is horror-stricken. “But she looks like you! Look at her mouth, and how the hair at her forehead comes to a point.” She turns the baby toward me.

  I look again, but I don’t know what Luli is talking about. I only see that the baby has no pocks. “Doesn’t seem like mine at all. Isn’t that strange? You, and even your roommates, like her more than I do.”

  “Don’t say that!” Luli crouches beside the bed. “Just wait. We’ll go to Ma’s. You said she wants the baby—I’m sure she won’t mind that it’s a girl, once she sees her. She’ll take care of both of you. And I’ll help until you’ve recovered enough to find work. You’re just tired. When you feel better, you’ll grow to like the baby. I know you will! After all, you grew to like me eventually.”

  That makes me smile a little, but I’m still not sure. I suppose something is wrong with me, since I never had a family. Luli is my best friend, but a friend isn’t a baby.

  “Just give it some time,” Luli pleads. “Just do this for me!”

  “Do it for you?” I snap, a flare of anger coming over me. “I know you say you’ll help, but I’m the one who had this baby. I carried her and had all the pain of her coming out. And because of her, I have no job, no money. I have to worry about Family Planning coming after me for the fines. Not you. This isn’t just some sort of small favor—this is my life and I have to decide what to do!”

  Tears shine in Luli’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Yun. I just—I just think you’ll both be better off at Ma’s. My roommates won’t let you stay here much longer. Ma would make sure you ate right and got plenty of rest so you could get your strength back and be fit for work again. And if you bring the baby, don’t you think Ma would be more likely to take you in than if you showed up by yourself?”

  She has a point.

  And the fact is, I’m depending on Luli for everything right now. I’m not strong enough to walk all the way to the Institute carrying a baby. And if Luli won’t lend me the money for a cab to get there or for another place to stay, Ma really is the only alternative, at least for now.

  Later I can decide what to do in the long term. Right now, I feel so drained I just don’t care. I sigh and nod slowly.

  Luli heaves a sigh of relief. “I wish we could go now! I know everything will be fine if we could just get to Ma’s.” She stares toward the window—dark outside except for the yellow floodlights. Her face crimps, thinking, planning.

  “How about Ming?” I suddenly remember that Ming has an older cousin who owns a car. Once he drove us to Yingze Park, back when we were together. That was such a long time ago. I know that Ming was mad at me when I started up with Yong, but he has Luli now. “I think if you asked him, he would help.”

  Chapter 25

  Luli

  As I wait for Ming to get off his shift, snow starts to fall. The heavy, wet flakes gleam in the floodlights and drop silently to the concrete of the empty plaza. The bell rings, breaking the quiet, and a few moments later everyone floods out the doors, hunching over to shield themselves from the snow. I stand on my toes, half hidden behind a light post in case Ming’s father, Foreman Chen, comes out and notices me, even though it’s unlikely that he would know my face from any of the others.

  When I spot Ming, I push my way over to him and snag his coat. He turns, irritated, but as soon as he sees me, his expression breaks open. My heart jumps. He’s glad to see me.

  “I was wondering about you!” Ming says. “Have you been sick again?”

  I shake my head. We’re surrounded by people. Not a good place to talk. I lead him closer to the building where there’s a little more shelter from the snow.

  “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

  “Yun’s had the baby, Ming,” I say, ignoring his question. “We have to get her to Yong’s mother’s house.”

  A bewildered look crosses his face. “Where is she?”

  “She’s in my room.”

  His brows furrow as my words begin to sink in. “Did she just show up?”

  I take a deep breath, wondering how much I should explain to him. “She was staying with me in the dorm, and she had the baby—earlier than expected. We didn’t have a chance to get her to the hospital. Anyway, I want to take her to Yong’s mother so she can take care of them.”

  “Where’s Yong?” Ming demands. “He should take her.”

  “She’s not with him anymore.”

  Ming rolls his eyes. “I’m not surprised. I tried to tell you that he was trouble. She was stupid to expect him to stay with her once she became an inconvenience.”

  My mouth twitches. Maybe he isn’t jealous anymore, but his reaction tastes bitter.

  “Why do you even want to help her? All that time she was gone, you kept looking for her, and she never got in touch with you.” He leans in, anger and disgust in his eyes. “What kind of friend is that?”

  I can feel the color rising to my face. I want to shout, She isn’t just a friend! But I keep my mouth closed. We need him to help us.

  “Why do you care so much about her?”

  I stare at him in astonishment. The sharp yellow light of the floods light half his face, the other side shadowed by the windowless building. Maybe this is what’s been keeping me from him—not that he wants Yun, but that he doesn’t understand me. He has a family. And because he has one, he should understand. I’m trembling inside, wanting to explain but not trusting myself to find the right words.

  I have to focus. Instead of responding to his question, I say, “Yun says your cousin has a car.”

  He straightens up and tucks his chin
back, caught off guard by the change in topic.

  “Will you ask him to drive us?” I press. “Yellow Grain Village is only two or three hours away.”

  For several moments my question hangs in the air. “But it’s Spring Festival. The worst time to travel!” Ming says.

  “I know. I tried to get bus tickets, but there’s nothing.” I step closer to him. “I’ll help pay for the gas. I’ve got plenty of money. If you could just—”

  He cuts me off. “That’s a big favor for me to ask my cousin. For you to ask of me! For Yun, of all people! You shouldn’t have anything to do with her!”

  I can feel him losing patience with Yun, with me.

  But he’s my best chance to get Yun out of the city. If she stays, she might give the baby away. I know I have to keep that baby. She and Yun are my family now. I steel myself.

  “Yun says the baby is yours.”

  Ming steps back in open-mouthed silence, looking as if I’ve slapped him. For a moment I want to take it back, hating the lie, but I remind myself that it might be true. And Ming doesn’t protest, doesn’t say it’s impossible.

  Anyway, I know I have to push on. “She doesn’t want you to have to carry that responsibility. She’s not asking you to support the baby.” I move forward to close the space between us. “Just help us get to Yong’s ma. We’ll tell Ma that the baby is Yong’s, and she’ll take care of it. She wants a baby! And Yong’s in jail. No need to worry about him right now.”

  In the shadows, I can see him blinking, his eyes shifting side to side as he tries to make sense of everything I’ve said. His breath puffs from his mouth. I shiver, suddenly aware of the cold. Inwardly, I beg him not to ask me anymore questions, to just say he’ll help us.

  He nods, looking at the concrete between our feet as he mutters, “All right. I’ll call my cousin tonight.”

  ***

  The next morning I get a text from Ming: My cousin can take you to Yellow Grain Village tomorrow. That’s when his time off starts.

  I bite my lip and type a reply: Thank you so much, Ming! I hesitate a moment before adding, Are you coming with us?

  It seems like ages before he responds. No, but I’ll cover for you with my dad so you don’t get in trouble for missing your last day of work.

  I breathe out slowly, relief and nervousness tangled up inside me. I thank him again. He doesn’t text back this time.

  ***

  Yun, Ming, and I cross the factory plaza during the morning shift change. We have to walk slowly for Yun’s sake and try not to attract attention, but that’s impossible. Even though people have their heads bent against the bits of ice that rain down, everyone notices the baby. Yun wanted to put the baby in an unzippered duffle bag to make her easier to carry, but I pulled a face at the idea and told her I would carry her to the car.

  Now I see that Yun’s idea had its merits. The baby is no problem to carry, isn’t even crying, but everyone we pass gapes at us, their eyes darting from the baby, to me, to Yun beside me. The girls about our age are surprised and delighted, while the older workers glare knowingly at me, since I’m the one carrying her.

  Ming carries our bag, but no one notices him because he walks several feet apart from us. I’m glad he doesn’t have to deal with the rude stares. A lump rises in my throat as I think of how I lied to him.

  We pass through the factory gates and go down the street toward the corner. I see Ming casting sidelong glances at the baby and Yun. He hasn’t said anything more about the baby—hasn’t even asked if it’s a boy or a girl, though her pink dotted blanket probably answers that question for him.

  Ming’s cousin pulls up as we reach the corner. Yun climbs in first and gingerly scoots across. I hand the baby to her. As I start to get in, though, Ming puts his hand on my arm.

  “Wait.” He chucks my bag in the front seat, then turns his dark-eyed gaze on me. “Is there any chance for us?”

  My breath catches at this unexpected question. Swiftly, I see us getting married, in our own room, with our own baby. I’m so happy that he wants me, that he’s asking me to forget the past. But I also know I’ve deceived him, used him. My mouth opens—no words come out. I want to say yes, but the truth is that I don’t know.

  Chapter 26

  Yun

  The drive should only take a couple of hours, but the highways are clogged with lines of hardly-moving traffic. Ming’s cousin opens the window an inch to let out his cigarette smoke, but because we’re stopped, the smoke and exhaust fumes filter in and create smog inside the car. All around us people punch out spurts of noise from their horns or lean on them loud and hard. Sometimes Ming’s cousin mutters curses with his cigarette hanging from his lip. He grips the wheel and veers onto the slushy shoulder, where the wintry air bites our cheeks. When he comes up behind another car riding the shoulder, he tries to nose back onto the road, blasting the horn. The baby cries, getting red in the face, and Ming’s cousin tells us to hold her up to the windows until one of the other drivers takes pity on us and lets us back onto the road.

  Luli fusses over the baby, whispering to her, awkwardly changing her diapers in the little space between us. The car is foul. Even with the cold, damp air blowing in through the window, I can still smell the dirty diapers balled up on the floorboards, the overflowing ashtray, and the musty vinyl.

  The smells, the snow, the traffic. The baby screaming in the car. I feel numb to it. I doze several times, waking to see Luli smiling down at the baby with her soft-eyed expression, or studying me anxiously. When she looks at me, I turn away to the window.

  After several hours, as we get farther from the city, the traffic moves a little more easily. It’s not so flat here now, and the air seems cleaner, though the sky is still overcast. At least the views are more interesting. I can see two- and three-story block houses, spaced widely apart, kids in puffed coats with sticks, jabbing at the dirty snow. I realize I’ve ridden on this road three times now—with Yong on his motorbike, on the bus back to the city, and here again. The car hums on the pavement, and I feel like I’m going somewhere, returning somewhere. I just want to sleep and watch TV and eat the food that Ma makes—all the things the girls in the factory say they do when they go home.

  By now the baby has fallen asleep. “Could you hold her for a while?” Luli whispers to me. “My arms are getting tired.” She wakes when Luli passes her over, but she doesn’t cry. I set her on my legs, and she’s warm against me, her dark little eyes watchful, roving around. I wonder what she sees. Her eyes fix on me, and her mouth makes a pink o shape. I wonder if she knows who I am.

  “What should we name her?” Luli asks, fingering the baby’s hand.

  Naming her hasn’t even occurred to me.

  “How about Chun, Spring? Since it’s the Spring Festival!” Luli grins. She strokes the baby’s cheek. “Hello, little Chun. Fu Chun.”

  “Fu?” I wince. “Maybe not my last name.”

  “Why not?” Luli wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like the idea of giving her Yong’s name. I suppose Ma will want that. But Fu, good fortune, sounds better.”

  I bristle. “Fu isn’t good luck. It’s Fu from fuliyuan, orphanage—the opposite of good luck!” My voice is louder than I intended. The baby begins to twitch, and I can see Ming’s cousin raise his eyebrows in the rearview mirror. “You have this name and everyone knows you’re from an orphanage! Everyone knows nobody wanted you. They won’t hire you because they think you’re bad luck!”

  Luli’s lower lip draws in and she seems to shrink back in the seat. I can’t believe that all this time she thought all the foundlings were named Fu for good luck. My ears are hot at the thought.

  The baby starts crying, thrashes out her arms, kicks against her blanket. I flush, not knowing what to do. I’m afraid she’s going to slip through my hands and slide off my knees. “Take her! Take her!”

  Luli grabs the baby, hugs her to her chest, and sways side to side with her. She asks me to get the bottle, but I pretend I don’t hear. I
stare out the window, pulling on my hair. But I can hear Luli, humming and whispering to the baby until she begins to settle.

  ***

  We arrive in Yellow Grain Village by the late afternoon, when the cloud cover is starting to break up and the sun is actually visible. The trip has taken almost six hours. I don’t know what I feel. Part of me is eager to see Ma, but part of me is a little scared. I don’t know why I’m nervous. I know Luli was right when she said Ma would be happy that I’m bringing her a baby. Even if it’s a girl. I know Ma will want to keep it.

  Maybe I hate that she won’t be able to. Not if Yong has anything to say about it.

  I direct Ming’s cousin to Ma’s alley, and we pull up in front of her house. When I knock at the door, Ma opens it. She’s wearing several layers of sweaters topped with a padded vest that does little to hide her thinness.

  “You came back!” She throws her arms up in the air, her eyes full of relief.

  “Ma, this is my friend Luli . . .” I trail off, not sure how to say the rest.

  Her gaze flutters to each of us, finally landing on the baby in Luli’s arms.

  “Is this my baby?” She plucks her out of Luli’s arms and begins rocking her. Her mouth is wide open, adoring the baby. “When did you have her? Oh, then she’s early. Is everything all right with her?” She hurls out questions without letting me answer. “A girl then. Don’t worry, you’re young! You can try again since it’s a girl.” She spins into the room and her voice gentles. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a brother,” she says to the baby. She waves us to come inside. “Hurry up and shut the door. This little thing doesn’t need to get sick.”

  Luli and I glance at each other. Luli has such a look of happiness on her face. As if everything has worked out just as she hoped.

  Ming’s cousin follows us inside, carrying the bag Luli packed for us. Faint slants of light stream in from the window, and I can see the dust motes floating in the small, cluttered room. My things are piled on the bed at the back of the room, and I let out a squeak of happiness. It’s good to see my things, good to see Ma so happy.