The Long March Home

by Zoë S. Roy

  “We need more beds,” Yezi and Yao squealed, grinning at each other.

  Stroking Sang’s arm, Yao asked, “Tell me what else the director said to you.”

  “Let me think.” Sang sat down. “He said we could go to him any time if we have any difficulties.”

  “We need money for bedding and other stuff,” Yao said. Taking a deep breath, she added, “This coming Sunday, we can sell another cartload of cardboard, but we still won’t have enough cash for what we need to buy.”

  “Let’s borrow some money.” Sang clasped his hands in front of his chest. “I have a classmate whose father got his back pay after his release from the camp. Mama will probably get her money back for those years, too.”

  “What’s the name of the director? I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Yao said as she passed each of them a bowl of food. “Enjoy your meal.”

  The next day, at lunchtime, Yao took a note from her pocket and handed it to Sang. “When I spoke to the director earlier today, he said yes. We can borrow fifty yuan. He wrote this note for us. You need to take it to the financial sector and sign for the loan.”

  Sang placed his bowl on the table and stood. “I’ll go right away.”

  “Wait till 2:00p.m.,” Yao said, pulling him back onto the stool. “Nobody is in the office right now, and you need to finish your lunch first.”

  “Okay, I forgot the time.”

  “I’ll go with you. I can bring the cash back right away so I don’t have to worry about you losing it.”

  After listening to their conversation, Yezi said aloud, “I want a sheet with flowers for my bed.”

  “Okay, we’ll go shopping on Sunday.” Yao’s face lit up, her gray-haired head nodding. She suddenly looked younger, and less tired. She held her bowl up to her mouth. “We will be able to get everything we need before your mother gets home.”

  14.

  EGG TREE

  THE FOLLOWING DAY YAO, YEZI and Sang went to visit their future home, a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a five-storey building that faced a basketball court, about a seven-minute walk from Arts Paradise. The director had said that the university would allot them a three-bedroom apartment as soon as one was available.

  Yao told Sang, “Write to your father about it. He won’t have to sit in a chair all night when he visits.” She didn’t say, and I won’t have to sleep in a chair anymore either.

  “Yes, I can draw a map for him, so he can find our new place. I’ll also send a letter to my brother. He can use my bed whenever he returns. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Not hearing Yao’s response, Sang raised his voice. “Can you find Dahai’s address? Even if he doesn’t answer, I’ll go to the farm to find him. Everything will be okay when Mama is out of the camp.”

  “Yes, I’ll look for it,” Yao sighed, wondering if this was the right time to tell them about the long-hidden letter that Dahai’s friend, Wang, had delivered four years earlier.

  Several days later, around noon, a group of workers came to help the family move. Within two hours they had transported all their belongings to the new location.

  Coming home straight from school, Yezi ran up the stairs to their new apartment. After she passed the apartments’ communal room and doors to several other apartments on their floor, she found the one to her new home. Turning the knob, she opened the unlocked door and stepped into the living room. Sang was unpacking scattered cardboard boxes. Yao was busily arranging items in the kitchen.

  Yezi went to inspect the bedroom prepared for her mother. A desk sat under the window. On one side of the window was a double bed, and on the other side a bookshelf had been placed against the wall. The room seemed empty, especially with that bare bookshelf. She couldn’t wait to see her mother fill it with her own things.

  The other bedroom, for Yezi and Yao, had two single beds that flanked each side of the window. One of the beds had only a pallet on it. The other was covered with a floral bed sheet that Yezi had chosen when shopping with Yao. She hung her book bag on the doorknob and plopped on the bed.

  “I’ll do laundry in the communal room.” Yezi heard Yao say outside her bedroom door. Yao then appeared in the doorway, a basin full of dirty clothing under her arm. “Yezi, you should help Sang tidy up the living room.”

  “Okay, in just a minute,” answered Yezi. She touched the sheet, feeling content. Finally I have my own bed! Joy flooded her heart as she stretched her limbs out. She would never again live in the cluttered, gray-looking room that was the only home she remembered. She missed it, but hated it. She stared at the shiny window and the newly plastered walls in the roomy space. This is real, not a dream! She rubbed her eyes and pinched her arm. She smelled the light odour of limestone in the air and marvelled at the dappled sunlight on the walls.

  Suddenly, Sang cried out, “Damn it!” Then Yezi heard him weeping. She jumped off the bed and hurried into the living room. Sang sat on an unrolled pallet on the floor, a sheet of wrinkled paper in his hand.

  “Yezi,” he sobbed, thrusting the paper at her. “Our brother is dead! These are his last words!”

  “What?” Shocked, Yezi’s eyes widened. She took the page from Sang, her hands trembling. As she read it, tears drenched her face. Her eldest brother, who had only appeared in her dreams, had vanished from this world before she could meet him in person.

  Just then, Yao walked through the door. Sang asked her, “Why did you hide this from us?”

  “Hide what?” Bewildered, Yao stared at Sang’s tearful face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Dahai is dead!” cried Sang. Taking the letter back from Yezi, he shook it in front of Yao. “Have you forgotten this?”

  Yao’s face paled. “Of course not!” Tears slowly trickled down her face. “I saw your brother grow from a baby to a young man just like I’ve watched you grow up. But…” she stammered, wiping her face with her hand. “I didn’t want to scare you with this terrible news. You were both too young.”

  “Does Baba know?” asked Sang.

  “I told him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell your mother.”

  “You should’ve told us earlier,” Sang lowered his voice.

  “Why?” Yao went into the kitchen and set a pot on the stove. “It wouldn’t have brought him back to life. I burn paper money for him every year so that he is happy in his next life.”

  “You are too superstitious,” Sang muttered.

  “This is what I know and what I can do,” Yao protested.

  “I don’t want to argue with you.” Sang placed the letter on a nearby table. He then continued the arrangement of the living room—his temporary bedroom. His eyes darkened, as different images of Dahai ran though his head. Dahai’s face twisted with pang and anger; Dahai’s eyes filled with horror. Such images haunted Sang. He collapsed on the bed. His throat tightened with a soundless cry.

  That night, Yezi slept on her comfortable and spacious bed. However, she dreamed of a smoky explosion and, once the smoke had cleared, a bloodied body lying on the ground. Although she could not recognize the face, she knew it was her eldest brother.

  Yezi had gathered eleven oval cocoons from her silkworms. Seven were yellow, and the other four were silver. Each cocoon had a hole on one end where the moth had bitten its way out.

  She picked out a small, dry branch and a piece of wood from Yao’s junk collection, and then glued them together. One silvery cocoon capped the top of a twig, a yellow one another. Yezi decorated the sprigs with all of her cocoons, which now looked like a plant in bloom. When Jian saw the decorated branch, she coloured some of her cocoons red and added them to the makeshift arrangement. Yezi placed the final version on the desk in her mother’s bedroom. They called it “Egg Tree.”

  Several days later, Yao hand-sewed cotton curtains and hung them over all the windows in the apartment. The mat
erial was light blue with white polka dots, the nicest design they had been able to find in the stores. When Yezi woke in the morning, she enjoyed looking at the dotted shadows on the wall, cast by the first rays of sunshine penetrating the curtain. Yao also worked all day long on a cotton pad for Meihua’s bed, as she said Meihua had suffered for a long time and needed a decent place to sleep. The other beds would not be furnished with pallets until sufficient money and ration coupons for cotton became available.

  Despite the fact that the living room was cramped, Sang looked at his bed with satisfaction. I can easily turn over in bed now. Also, I can read my books under the light from the living room lamp.

  The kitchen was so crowded that they had to eat their meals in Yao’s and Yezi’s bedroom. But it did not bother them. In contrast to their previous “apartment,” a small kitchen was anything but a problem. Yezi thought they now lived in a palace.

  During those days, Yezi expected her mother and father to come home any time. Smiling in front of a mirror became her daily practice. She noticed that Sang and Yao seemed to happier, too.

  Every evening, Yao boiled water after supper as if Yezi’s mother were there for tea. Yezi frequently went outside to look for any sign of her mother returning, but found no one.

  One day after lunch, Yezi heard steps stop outside their door. As soon as she heard a knock, she rushed to the door and flung it open. There stood woman clad in an olive green uniform. She asked, “Is this Meihua Wei’s home?” Meihua Wei? The name sounded familiar yet distant to Yezi. She hesitated. She tried to say “yes,” but found her throat too dry to make a sound. Instead, she nodded.

  “Yes, yes,” said Yao, who had stepped out of the bedroom. “Army Comrade. Where is she?”

  Seeing no one behind the soldier, Yezi froze. Where is Mama?

  “Come with me. She is in the jeep,” the woman said, turning from the door to go back downstairs.

  “We are coming. Thank you,” Yao said as she stumbled down stairs.

  Yezi raced out fearing her mother would disappear if she had failed to reach her in time.

  The soldier walked to the jeep parked on the roadside and opened the passenger’s door. Yao threw herself into it. “Meihua!” Her shaking hands clasped a woman’s shoulder. The woman looked up and smiled. Yao took Meihua’s hands and helped her out of the jeep, then stepped back. “Oh my! Here is Yezi.” Yao pulled the girl over and pushed her toward Meihua.

  “Mama!” Yezi wrapped her arms around her mother, but could not find any words to say.

  “Let’s go home,” said Meihua, her voice feeble, but her mouth curved in a smile.

  Sang signed a form provided by the soldier. Then following her directions, he reached into the jeep and took out his mother’s travel bag.

  Yezi and Yao grasped Meihua’s arms from both sides and helped her walk to her new home.

  After they entered the apartment, Sang laid the bag on the desk in Meihua’s room. “This is yours, Mama.”

  “I can stay with you this afternoon.” Yezi helped her mother sit in a chair in her bedroom.

  “No. You can’t miss school.” Meihua looked serious.

  “Well, okay. I’ll go if you want me to.” Yezi went into the kitchen and returned with a mug. “Here’s some jasmine tea. Popo Yao is making noodle soup for you right now.”

  Meihua sniffed at the mug, her soft brown eyes glowing. “What a treat to smell tea!”

  When Yezi carried in the noodle soup, she found her mother dozing in the chair.

  “Don’t wake her. She needs to rest.” Yao beckoned for Yezi to come out of the bedroom. Then she closed the door. “Go to school now, little one. You can be with your mother after school.”

  At suppertime, Yezi sat at the table close to her mother, who wrapped an arm around her. “I’ve looked forward to this day for so long,” she said, stroking Yezi’s hair.

  Snuggling against her, Yezi caressed Meihua’s hand, which was rough and hard. She thought her mother must have starved at the camp. “From now on you’ll eat Popo Yao’s food every day. You will get healthy.”

  Two days later, Yezi’s father, Lon, arrived. It was September 30, the day before China’s National Day.

  After supper, he opened his bag. “I have brought some gifts for everyone. I haven’t done this for ages….” His voice was filled with cheer.

  Lon handed Yezi a doll that had moving eyes, the same doll she had admired when she and her father had walked past the display window of a department store a year earlier. Yezi had not dared to ask for it because she knew her father could not afford it.

  “Thanks, Baba. I love her. I can’t believe you remembered.”

  Lon then motioned over to Yao and placed her gifts in her lap. “I hope you like the colour of this sweater. And, here’s some Vaseline. You can put it on your hands after you do laundry.”

  “I like everything. It’s very kind of you.” Yao accepted the gifts, her hand caressing the soft sweater. “Thank you very much.”

  Yezi wondered about her brother’s gift. Sang’s eyes brightened when he opened a rectangular metal box.

  “Thanks, Baba.” He carefully pulled out a long needle. “Acupuncture needles! How did you know I wanted these?”

  “I know you wish to become a barefoot doctor in the countryside next year,” Lon said with a grin. “But you don’t look like a doctor yet. And, I don’t want you to try one of those needles on me.”

  “I’ll try them on myself,” Sang replied, his eyes bright and happy.

  “Don’t worry.” Lon laughed. “You can try them on me, too! Tomorrow, okay?”

  “Where’s Mama’s gift?” asked Yezi.

  “I already received mine,” Meihua said happily, stepping out of her room. “Look at me.” She wore a creamy white blouse and pale gray skirt.

  “Mama, you look great.” Yezi clapped her hands. She seldom saw women in skirts.

  Lon then made an announcement, “Tomorrow we are all going boating in Broadview Park. Is that okay with everyone?”

  “Yes!” Yezi jumped up with excitement.

  “Do I need to prepare anything for it?” asked Yao.

  “No, no.” Lon shook his head. “You need a break. We’ll eat in the restaurant to celebrate our family’s reunion.”

  “If only Dahai could be here. Have you contacted him?” Meihua looked at Lon, then at Sang.

  Lon’s gaze dropped to the floor while Sang closed his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Meihua’s voice faltered. “Tell me. Tell me the truth.”

  Yao walked to Meihua and took Meihua’s hands into her own. “It’s my fault.”

  “What’s your fault? Why hasn’t Dahai been home in all this time?” Meihua turned, searching Yao’s eyes.

  “Dahai is unable to come home—” Yao sobbed.

  “Why?” Meihua gasped. “Is he—”

  “He died a hero,” Yezi said in a low voice.

  “Tell me how!” Meihua’s eyes widened. “What on earth happened?” she asked, her face ashen. She sank into a chair and wept.

  Lon placed his hand on Meihua’s shoulder stroking her arm with the other. “I’ll show you his letter.” He led her back to the bedroom.

  The next morning, Meihua appeared in black clothes. Her eyes were swollen. Lon framed a photograph he had found of Dahai taken on his sixteenth birthday. He decorated the frame with a piece of white silk and hung the photograph on the wall. The family remained at home instead of going to Broadview Park, to mourn Dahai’s passing. From the others, Yezi learned about her brother as they shared their stories, and remembered him with love.

  Yezi listened to the stories attentively, wishing that she too had one that she could share. She did not understand why Dahai had believed their parents were sinful.

  Several days later, th
e family decided to go to Broadview Park after all. They all boarded a rowboat; Lon and Sang took turns rowing. They competed with each other and laughed. Yezi sang the song, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Her ability to sing in English amazed her mother. Yezi’s long-time dream of riding in a boat with her mother had finally come true. She could hardly believe it.

  The lighthearted chatter coming from other boats floated over the lake. When Yezi noticed that Yao had tears mingling with the sweat on her face, she handed her a handkerchief. “Don’t weep.”

  Taking the handkerchief, Yao wiped her face and smiled. “No weeping today. I’m so happy.” Finally she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  “I’m so thankful.” Meihua stretched out her hand to stroke Yao’s shoulder, murmuring, “I don’t know what disaster would have befallen my poor children if you hadn’t been with them. We are all so lucky to have you as part of our family.”

  Tears flooded Yezi’s eyes, but she tried to smile like the merry American girl in that photograph she had seen in the magazine at the library, holding her violin tight.

  15.

  3,000 YUAN

  YEZI WAS ECSTATIC ABOUT HER family reunion. But the celebrations ended quickly. Her father returned to the mine with a promise to come home once a month, if allowed. Meanwhile, Meihua rested and slowly eased her way back into her life. She went to the Arts Department at the university and requested her teaching assignment from the Party’s Secretary. Instead of getting a clear answer, she received, according to the Party’s policy, compensation for her financial loss during her prison term. When she finally stepped out of the payroll office, she carried a heavy handbag stuffed with 3,000 yuan in bills, equivalent to what her salary would have been for three years. Heading for home, she found herself repeating the same mantra with each step: 3,000 yuan for eight years! Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty days and nights in jail! The memories of that time haunted her. She wanted to fling the bag into the air. Let the bloody money go with the wind, she thought.