by Ha Jin
“Now you know. Larry won’t be involved. Actually, we just had a row. He’s mad at me. It was you who lobbed a bomb into my marriage.”
She sounded hurt, which softened me some. I said, “Larry seems to be a reasonable guy who won’t give you a folder of divorce papers. That would cost him too much.”
Haili smirked as if mocking herself. She glanced at Katie, who was leafing through my Entertainment Weekly. Haili looked hesitant, then resumed. “Larry’s a shrewd man. Before our wedding, he convinced me to sign a prenuptial agreement. He always guards his secrets. I won’t say he’s cheap, but we have to split the household expenses.”
I was a breath away from reminding her that when we had been together I would share my last steamed bun with her. Hadn’t we eaten a bowl of lamb soup together outside the main entrance to my alma mater because we, two college students, didn’t have enough money for two bowls to go with the wheaten cakes held in our hands? Though unable to afford a piano, didn’t I buy her a keyboard? Was I ever stingy about anything she wanted? Didn’t I promise to build a house of our own, a bungalow with a wraparound porch like the waterfront one in the postcard she had sent me from Vancouver? My eyes were welling up, and I averted my face. Haili had made this thorny bed of her own free will and ought to lie in it. It was no use for her to attempt to invoke my empathy—she couldn’t make me cave anymore. A sadness mixed with a modicum of satisfaction stirred in my chest.
“Danlin,” she continued, “I didn’t come to quarrel with you. I came to beg you to stop meddling with my affairs, for your own benefit. You don’t know what you’ve been up against.”
“Is this another threat?” I asked.
“You can take it that way if you wish.”
“Well then, cold or hot, sour or bitter, rare or well done—bring it on.”
She smirked faintly. “You’re still a dog that can never kick the habit of eating shit and garbage.”
“You’re right—I’m not going to give up.”
“If you keep harassing us, we’ll have to stop you.”
“Who are ‘we’?”
“The people involved in producing my book.”
“You know what? If we were still in China, I might listen to you, but here I have to do my professional duty and report the truth.”
“Truth depends on how you shape and present it.”
“Let’s say facts then. I’ve got to stick to facts.”
“Don’t give me that professional crap.”
“You can’t make me stop reporting.”
“You’re so naïve and stubborn. I guess that’s why I liked you when we first met. You’re still the same puppy at heart. The same young boy.”
I wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or an insult. I said, “Yes, I was so naïve that I couldn’t see how fickle and heartless you could be. If only I had known you would aspire to become a grand novelist as well as a big diplomat. Then I would’ve stayed away from you and—”
“Don’t work yourself into a temper again!”
“If you apologize openly, even just one sentence, I’ll get out of your way. It would be easy for you.”
Her face clenched, twisted with annoyance. “Okay,” she said, flinging up her hand, jade bangles rattling. “I’ve had enough of trying to talk to you. You can remain a truculent son of bitch and keep rocking our boat, but don’t say I haven’t warned you.”
With that, she got to her feet and waved good-bye to Katie. Then to my surprise, Haili lifted her hand, her thumb raised and her index finger aimed at my forehead. “Bang!” she let out. “I’m not afraid of paparazzi.”
Before I could respond, she made for the door. When the clicks of her footsteps had receded, Katie said, wide-eyed, “She’s tough, isn’t she?”
“She’s crazy,” I said. “God, how I hate her. My hatred for her makes me more human.”
Katie laughed.
I stepped over to the window, and looking down, I saw Haili hurrying away toward Kissena Boulevard. She was wiping her face, then blew her nose into a tissue. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, shaking now and again. Perhaps she hadn’t erased all her warm memories of me. My eyes grew hot, misting. Not wanting Katie to catch sight of my face, I turned and went into the bathroom.
ELEVEN
A few days later, on the morning commuter train to Long Island, I ran into Shao Niya. She was seated diagonally across the aisle from me. The train was only about a third full; at this hour, most people were going the opposite way, into the city. A gaggle of preschool children led by a young woman, all, including the teacher, wearing orange pullovers, were at the far end of the car, jabbering noisily. Niya’s presence unnerved me a bit, and the thought occurred to me, unbidden, that she was shadowing me. Then I quashed the thought. She couldn’t possibly be a detective or an agent, nor was I important enough to merit that kind of attention. I kept my gaze focused out the window. The trees along the railroad, oak and maple and beech, were just starting to shed their leaves, releasing them into the breeze a handful at a time. The yellowing grass billowed here and there, shimmering a little. In a gray-blue lake a flock of mallards was paddling, and among them a pair of swans cruised regally. Suddenly all the ducks took off, their wings flailing, while the swans, as if puzzled, sailed on in the ruffled water, propelled by canceled impetus. I wondered what had scattered the birds, perhaps a boat, or a dog in the reeds.
“Mind if I sit here?” Niya’s voice startled me. She pointed at the seat opposite mine, blinking her round eyes.
“Not at all,” I said.
She sat down, smiling and sipping from her tall cup of coffee. By its faint aroma I could tell it was French vanilla. She’d had her hair permed. The curls reminded me of a hen’s fluffy rump, and she looked a bit frumpy in a hoodie and black capris, the edge of each cuff bearing a knot of twisted string like a miniature bow tie.
“What a surprise to see you here,” I said. “What makes you come this way?”
“I’m going to see a friend in Port Washington.”
“You seem to have friends everywhere.”
“Is that illegal?”
“As long as you keep your nose out of my life, it’s none of my business.” I couldn’t help but bring up this topic, provoked by the memory of her writings against me.
“Haili’s my friend and I’ve got to help her,” she said with a smile, showing a pair of thin lines bracketing her narrow nose.
“Has she hired you as her publicist?”
“Oh please. I’ve just been trying to give her a hand whenever I can, and I don’t get paid a penny.”
“It’s very generous of you.”
“I’m always generous to my friends. And Haili has been a good friend to me. When I came to New York and was broke and jobless, Haili was the only person willing to help. She took me in for a month.”
“When was that?”
“Eight years ago. After I landed a job, I wanted to pay her back, but she wouldn’t take money from me, so I bought her a yoga club membership.”
“I didn’t know she could be generous.”
“Danlin, you were once her husband and you should have some sympathy for her.”
“You don’t know how she treated me.”
“I heard she handed you the divorce papers the day after you arrived here. She was wrong, but that was long ago. You shouldn’t be still angry at her, heaping wrong on wrong. That doesn’t make it right.”
“I’m not vindictive. I just try to report the truth. And you shouldn’t be so involved.”
“I hate to see my friend suffer.”
“You can’t save her. Find another opportunity to show her your gratitude. I won’t let her get away this time, not until she drops her vanity and admits her fault publicly.”
“I can see that you still have a lot of feelings for her.”
“Only negative feelings.”
“You rushed into the fray with so much passion that you cannot get out of it. You ought to be rational about this, D
anlin. What’s at stake here? It’s just a romance novel—it’s not worth the time you’ve been spending on it.”
“My boss assigned this story to me, and with good reason. Haili and those behind her have been exploiting 9/11. They’re profiting from people’s pain and loss.”
“Who hasn’t made use of the tragedy? The White House has been using it, the Chinese government has been using it, Islamic militants have been using it, oil companies have been taking advantage of it, and every gas station has been benefiting from it. None of us can separate ourselves from the tragedy now that it has happened. We’re all part of it.”
“I don’t know how to figure you out.” I was amazed a friend of Haili’s could speak so rationally. Then I realized she might just mean to absolve Haili, and her argument didn’t sound convincing at all, but at the moment I had no idea how to refute it.
“I’m not as awful as you think. Take me simply as a woman who’s never forgetful and always repays kindness and insults alike. By the way, I saw your girlfriend on campus the other day. She’s attractive, a picture of fitness, but isn’t she too big for you?” The corner of Niya’s mouth tilted a bit, giving her oval face a wry expression.
“You mean too tall? We’re the same height, five foot ten. At least you can see that I can get along with a woman. Don’t you think Katie is sexy?”
“The word sexy sounds ugly to me, equivalent to ‘a good lay.’ ” Her eyes shone at me.
I laughed, tipping my head back. Over the PA, the conductor announced that Great Neck was approaching. I said to her, “I see your point. Just keep in mind that I don’t treat women as sex objects, although I’m fond of them. So long.”
As I was walking away, she waved with her coffee cup, but her face dimmed a little as though a shadowy thought had crossed her mind. She seemed quite reasonable, and I hoped she would stop acting like Haili’s loaded gun.
I unlocked my bicycle parked at the train station and pedaled toward GNA.
—
FOR YOU, my colleague Wenna mouthed and handed me the phone. She simpered and licked her plump lower lip.
The caller introduced himself as Gu Bing and said he wanted to meet with me in person. He spoke casually, as if we’d met before and been familiar with each other. It took me a while to realize that the man, Haili’s editor, was in New York at this moment.
“All right, where shall we meet?” I tried to remain calm even as my pulse was racing.
“I’m staying in the Chinese consulate,” Gu said. “Can we meet here?”
“Well…that’s kind of inconvenient.” I paused, uneasy at the thought of stepping foot in that building. “How about meeting at the side entrance to Port Authority on Forty-second Street? From there we can go to a quiet place. The bus terminal isn’t too far from the consulate, and there’re some good bars and cafés in that area.”
Gu and I agreed to meet there at two the next afternoon. Hanging up, I couldn’t help fidgeting. Had that man flown all the way to New York to rescue Haili? Who was paying for his trip? With the kind of salary editors made in China, it was unlikely that Gu could afford the plane tickets on his own. He must have been quite desperate. The people involved in the scandal had started damage control.
Through my connections in town I found out that Gu Bing was here with a cultural delegation composed of nine artists and officials. This eased my mind some, because it meant he hadn’t flown in just to deal with me. I talked with Katie about my appointment with Gu, and she also thought he might want to bring the scandal to a close. She had noticed that The Epoch Times, a Falun Gong newspaper, had just written about the case of Haili’s novel as an example of moral deterioration among some immigrants from mainland China. The paper, free and available on every college campus in major American cities, also published an English edition and could easily spread the story into the mainstream media.
I arrived at Port Authority on time the next afternoon, a little wary about not being able to recognize Gu. I had seen photos online but wasn’t sure they were current. It was warm for early October, the sky billowy with porous clouds and the sun dropping patches of light on the ground. Eighth Avenue was noisy and lined with yellow cabs, and the air was redolent of popcorn, cheese, onion, and hot dogs. Portly pigeons strutted around like little pedestrians, swaying their diarrhea-soiled asses. I turned onto Forty-second Street and, to my surprise, found Haili standing on the stone steps at the entrance next to a stalwart, broad-chested man. Gu had on a button-down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, khaki pants, and two-tone saddle shoes. He looked like a golfer and was smoking a cigarillo, his free hand drumming on a thick brass banister. Haili wore spike heels, fishnet stockings, a saffron dress beneath a cardigan, and a pair of coral earrings; her face was lightly made up; a reddish leather purse decked with tassels and a brass key was hanging from her shoulder. I went up to them and shook hands with Gu Bing.
My ex-wife said blandly, “You two haven’t met before, so I accompanied him to make the introduction.”
“Would you like to join us for a drink?” I offered.
“No, thanks.” She shook her head, then turned to Gu and patted the side of his wide jaw. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” she said in a syrupy voice.
“Sure, have fun,” he said.
She walked away, her earrings jangling, her bottom swaying. I couldn’t tell what Gu had referred to—Haili might be on her way to a social occasion. The two of them seemed to know each other intimately. This thought irritated me, but on the other hand, Haili might have been purposely playing up their relationship to nettle me. I checked my woolgathering and took Gu to a bar beyond Eighth Avenue where I sometimes had meetings. He walked with an affected gait, his chest pushed out.
Gu ordered a whiskey on the rocks, and I had a beer. The young bartender, her eyes kohl-rimmed and her lips glossed ruby red, asked for my driver’s license. “Do I look that young?” I said, my face burning. I produced my card. “See, I’m almost middle-aged.”
“Thank you, sir.” She nodded and began to pour our drinks.
“If she carded me, I’d be flattered,” Gu said and gave a gasping laugh like a hyena. “You’re practically a young man.”
“If they raised the legal drinking age by fifteen years, I’d still be qualified. I just celebrated my thirty-sixth birthday. What an absurd law. I started to drink beer when I was a toddler.”
“Where was that?”
“Changchun.”
“Ah, I love those northern cities—the people are proud of the way they guzzle beer like irrigating fields.”
When our drinks had been served, Gu said, “Danlin, there seems to be some misunderstanding between you and us. I hope we can sort out the confusion and come to an understanding.”
I said, “I’ve spent a lot of time researching this story and know how you’re involved. If Haili’s novel were as good as you all claim, if all her accomplishments were real, there would be no news story here. But the book is a sham—you’ve done this to yourselves.”
“I don’t deny my involvement.” He dipped his index finger into his whiskey and churned the ice cubes, then took a sip. “But I believe you’re a smart man and understand we cannot let you continue your smear campaign. In southern China some newspapers have been reprinting your columns, and you’re becoming quite a figure in a perverse way.”
“Why would you find it perverse? I’m proud of my work.”
“You want to make a name by ripping into others. For the time being you seem to be prospering, but believe me, in the long run no one can thrive this way. There’re a few principles I’ve always stuck to, and they’ve helped me get where I am. One of them is never to attempt to gain anything by damaging others, not because I’m softhearted or solicitous but because they’ll have their opportunities to get back at me—I don’t want to make enemies. Young brother, be careful and watch the ground you’re treading.” He paused. “Let me put my cards on the table so you can reconsider what you’ve been doing.”
He continued, “In spite of your initial success as an essayist, you haven’t published a book yet. I know that the Writers Publishing House is bringing out your first collection of essays, The Raccoon I Cannot Chase Away. What a title. I like it because it has a mysterious image in it.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t know whether to be flattered or worried that he was aware of my book.
“I might be able to help you with the book. That’s to say—”
“It has gone to the printer and no longer needs help.”
He smiled as if amused. “Danlin, you’re obviously new to the publishing business. You don’t know that once a book is launched, that’s just the beginning of its life—like a baby unable to walk yet, it needs a hand. This is where I can be at your service. I can help you promote the book in major cities and coastal provinces, and I can also organize at least two conferences for your book—events attended by officials in charge of cultural affairs and preeminent critics. Some of them will review it in newspapers and magazines. Next year I can nominate it for some literary prizes. On top of all this, I can see to it that the Writers Publishing House will take you on as a house author and bring out your future books. That means you can get a contract and an advance even before you finish a manuscript.” He raised his eyebrows. “I will make you succeed in our homeland, not only because I have the pull and access but because I see that you have a great deal of talent. However, you and I both know that the world never lacks for talented people—everybody is a natural at something. What’re scarce are the opportunities to develop and utilize one’s talent and turn it into actual accomplishment. An individual cannot be worth more than others unless he has done more. By the same logic, if unrecognized and unrealized, talent is meaningless and not even worth having, because it will only make you more miserable and make you envy others’ luck and achievements. Such negativity poisons your heart, ruins your personality, and transforms you into a misanthrope whose forte is only to upset life’s harmony and deflate people’s confidence. A talented individual without any accomplishment, at the end of his life, will be no different from an idiot.” He lifted his glass and took a last, sharp gulp of whiskey.