The Long March Home

by Zoë S. Roy

  “I don’t think that will be a problem. But I will have to ask permission.”

  “Please book two round-trip tickets as soon as possible.” Agnes’s eyes beamed. “I’ll pay for the trip.”

  Yezi was watching her grandmother carefully. Her short blond hair shone under the room’s dim lights. Her silver oval earrings shimmered when her head moved. She wore a light pink sweatshirt over dark brown sweatpants.

  “Grandmother, what does Chengdu look like?”

  “Oh my, Yezi! You can speak English, can’t you?” Agnes asked, so astonished to hear her, and so pleased, too, a broad smile on her face.

  Shyly, Yezi grinned. “A bit. And I can sing some songs if you’d like to listen,” she said, managing to utter that whole sentence with only a little help from her mother.

  “My sweetie! I bet you can sing beautifully.” Agnes placed her hands on Yezi’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you speak earlier?”

  “I didn’t like to be watched by Miss Wang,” Yezi said in Chinese.

  Meihua relayed to Agnes that Yezi thought since Miss Wang was not part of her family, that it was best not to say anything.

  “Flora, I’m proud of your daughter, a smart and sweet girl.” Agnes smiled. “I’ll let you go home now to prepare things for tomorrow. If Yezi wishes, she can stay with me. I have an extra bed here.”

  “Me? What?” Yezi caught only enough words to know they were talking about her.

  Meihua interpreted what her mother said.

  “Yes, I’d like to very much.” Yezi nodded enthusiastically.

  “So you stay here, Yezi,” said Meihua, turning to hug her mother. “I’ll come over tomorrow after my morning meeting.”

  “Grandma? Is it okay to call you Grandma? Why did you call my mother ‘Flora’?”

  “Of course you can call me Grandma. And, in answer to your question, your mother’s American name is ‘Mayflora.’ ‘Flora’ is a short form.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “‘Flora’ means ‘flower.’ And ‘Mayflora’ means ‘flower in May.’”

  “Her Chinese name can also mean ‘beautiful flower,’” said Yezi. “I have so many questions for you.” Yezi’s English was halting, but somehow they managed to understand each other.

  “I’ll try to answer all of them. Why don’t you sit here?” Agnes said, pointing to the only armchair in the room. Her suitcases were poised against the small sofa. She reached for one, opened it, and took out a small package. “This is for you. I hope you like it.”

  ‘What is it?” Yezi held the package in her hands, uncertain what to do with it.

  “Open it. You’ll see.”

  Yezi unwrapped the package. A bright yellow dress with a floral print tumbled out. A look of surprise crossed her face, then she gave her grandmother a wide smile.

  “You can try it on in there.” Agnes pointed to the door of the bathroom.

  Yezi ran to the bathroom and later swirled out with the dress on. “Thank you for your lovely gift, Grandma.” She spun, and the dress swept around her like flowers thrown into the air.

  “What are some of your questions?” Agnes sat on the sofa, a look of contentment on her face.

  “Do women in your country carry these?” asked Yezi. She sat close to her grandmother and touched her earring with her finger.

  “You mean earrings? Yes, we do. Don’t Chinese women wear them?”

  “Only rich women in ancient times wore them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have seen them in picture books about ancient times.”

  “Do you read a lot?”

  “I do now, but I didn’t have any books before my mother lived at home.”

  “Where did she live before?”

  “In the camp.”

  “What did she do in the camp?” Agnes looked baffled, and then her voice low, she asked, “Was it a prison camp?”

  “Prison?” Yezi did not know the word. Unable to say yes or no, she tried to explain, “It was a reform-through-labour camp. She lived there until two years ago.”

  “Really?” Agnes’s hand was shaking when she placed it on Yezi’s shoulder. “Whom did you live with?”

  “Popo Yao took care of Sang and me all those years when Mama wasn’t home.”

  “Do you know why your mother was in the camp?” Agnes’s face darkened as if a black cloud had passed by the window.

  “They said she was an anti-revolutionary.” Yezi’s voice grew quiet as gloomy memories came flooding back. She pictured her own tearful face in the office of the workers’ leader, the shout of “American mongrel” resounding in her head.

  “Poor little girl, you must’ve had a hard life,” sighed Agnes. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she asked in her best perky voice, “Now tell me, how did you learn to speak English?”

  “I started studying with my brother a couple of years ago.” She looked at her grandmother’s face. “I like your smile. Can you speak Chinese?”

  “I still remember some. Ni hao ma?” Agnes replied.

  “Fine, thanks. I understand you,” Yezi giggled. “Where did you learn Chinese?”

  “I learned Chinese from my tutor over fifty-four years ago in Chengdu,” answered Agnes in Chinese. The past shimmered in her mind: Mei interpreting Agnes’s instructions to the middle-aged woman when she delivered the baby; the pilgrim’s desperate leap to Buddha’s Glory at Mount Emei; and, the accident with horse-drawn wagon in the field that dark night during their trip back to Chengdu.

  “In Chengdu? Are you going back to visit your tutor?” Yezi’s question pulled Agnes back to the present.

  “I don’t know where he is now,” Agnes said, the words in Chinese slowly coming back to her. “But I’d love to see Chengdu again.” In her mind, the missionary compound on White Pagoda Street still shone in the sun, and Mei, Mayflora’s handsome father, was still in his twenties.

  “Why did you go there?”

  “I was a missionary—”

  “What does missionary mean?”

  Agnes replied in Chinese, “Chuan jiao shi.”

  “I’ve heard these words somewhere. People said…”

  “What did you hear?” Agnes held Yezi’s hand, curiosity in her eyes.

  Yezi hesitated. “I heard people say missionaries had tried their drugs on Chinese babies.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t know.” Yezi shook her head, her puzzled eyes searching her grandmother’s face for an answer. “What did missionaries do, anyway?”

  “They spread the gospel to people,” Agnes said, holding Yezi’s hand.

  “I don’t know what gospel means,” Yezi said, caressing her grandmother’s hand. “But I’ll learn.”

  “Sure. As you grow up you’ll learn and come to know many things. I’ll tell you more about me and my time in China, and I’ll learn a lot from you, too.” Agnes kissed Yezi’s cheeks. “Bedtime! You have to go to school tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay,” Yezi answered, stifling a yawn. She still had so many questions. They will have to wait until tomorrow.

  Yezi woke up and found her grandmother sitting by the window. Sunlight was streaming through the window, filling the room with a golden light. Agnes’s head looked as though it was outlined in golden threads. “Good morning, Grandma. You are up early.”

  “Yes, I have jet lag.” Agnes turned to smile at Yezi.

  “What leg?”

  “Jet lag, not leg.” Agnes chuckled. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why don’t we take a walk in the fresh air?”

  “Sure. I’ll take you to my house.”

  “Yes. I’d really like to see it.”

  Several minutes lat
er, Yezi led her grandmother downstairs, and they headed for home. The sunshine glinted over the gardens as they walked along the road. Several joggers passed by. Agnes took a deep breath of the air mixed with the scent of winter jasmine and said, “It’s spring here. Back home, we had a terrible blizzard two weeks ago.”

  “Kunming is called Spring City, because of its nice weather all year round; no hot summer, no chilly winter,” Yezi said in an elated tone.

  “I love spring,” said Agnes.

  They approached the apartment on the second floor. Yezi tapped on the door.

  “Ah, you’re back.” Yao opened the door, her eyes wide with surprise. “And you too, Grandmother! Please come on in.”

  “Popo Yao’s making breakfast,” Yezi explained. “What would you like to eat, Grandma?”

  Agnes answered in Chinese, “Sweet potato congee.”

  “What?” Yao could not believe her ears. “How do you know that? From a book? Sit here, please.” Yao motioned at them to sit at the dining table.

  “Don’t make anything special for me. I’ll eat whatever you’re cooking,” Agnes responded, chuckling.

  Agnes pulled a stool up to the table, while Yezi made her a cup of tea.

  Just then Meihua walked in, sheafs of paper in her hands. “Mother! You’re here,” she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with joy. She set the papers down on a table near the door, and walked over to give Agnes a hug.

  “I wanted to see your home.” Agnes looked extremely happy. “I am so glad you are close to the guesthouse. Yao is making breakfast for us.”

  “I’m making fried buns.” Yao sliced some of the buns that Sang had gotten from the canteen earlier that morning and fried them in a pan. “I’ll cook sweet potato congee for Grandma next time.”

  “Here’s soymilk, Mother.” Meihua placed a bowl in front of Agnes and another one in front of Yezi.

  “Where’s Sang?” Agnes asked.

  “He’s gone to his university,” Meihua answered, taking the plate of fried bun slices from Yao and placing it on the table. The aroma of food wafted through the room, calling everyone to the table.

  “He was accepted to the medical university,” Yao added proudly as she joined them at the table.

  Unable to lift a slice with chopsticks, Agnes used her fingers instead. Yezi found it funny and decided to use her fingers, too. Yao darted a stern look in her direction. “Don’t forget your table manners.”

  At that moment, Yezi heard a knock on the door. Is this Baba? Bouncing from the chair, she dashed out of the room to open the door. But it wasn’t Lon.

  19.

  STONE FOREST

  WHEN YEZI OPENED THE DOOR, a frowning Miss Wang brushed past her impatiently. “Is your grandmother here?”

  Startled, Yezi stepped backward. “Y—yes,” she said, stepping aside to let her in.

  Miss Wang strode into the room, barely acknowledging Yezi. When she approached the table, she forced a smile on her face. “Good morning, Mrs. McMillan. I didn’t expect you to be here this early.”

  Agnes stood to greet her and noticed Yezi’s silence. “Sorry about that. I dropped in to surprise my daughter’s family. It was irresistible. Don’t you relish surprises?”

  “Yes, I do,” Miss Wang said, a note of irritation in her voice. “But my duty is to make sure you’re all right, and that things are not out of place.”

  “But how can things be out of place when I am here with my daughter? That is the reason I am visiting,” Agnes said, her voice and smile coyly sweet.

  Returning to her chair, Yezi glared at Miss Wang. “My grandmother enjoyed a breakfast of tea and soymilk. She likes sweet potato congee, too.”

  “Really?” Surprised to hear Yezi talk, Miss Wang laid a hand on her shoulder, nodding to indicate encouragement. “Our Chinese food is the best in the world, don’t you think so?” Wang’s face was strained, her lips pursed.

  “Any food is good for me.” Yezi grinned. “Chocolate especially.”

  Raising her eyebrows, Miss Wang abruptly withdrew her hand from Yezi’s shoulder. “You’re ignorant.”

  Agnes gasped. But before she could say anything, Yao stood up and said to Miss Wang “Please ignore Yezi. She doesn’t know enough.”

  “You’re right, Miss Wang. Chinese food’s tasty, especially in my daughter’s home,” Agnes quickly added. Pointing to the teapot on the table, she asked demurely, “Would you like a cup of tea? Please, join us at the table.”

  “No, thank you.” Miss Wang was curt. Glancing at her watch, she asked, “Can you be back at the guesthouse by 9:30 a.m.? I will pick you up and take you to a meeting.”

  “A meeting? Why?” Perplexed, Agnes turned toward her daughter and then looked at Miss Wang for an explanation.

  “The Party’s Secretary would like to express his greetings on behalf of the university. Teacher Wei should attend, too.”

  “Me?” Meihua’s astonished eyes shifted from her mother to Miss Wang.

  “Yes, that’s why I am here.” Before anybody could ask another question, Miss Wang said to Meihua, “Be ready. I’ll be back at 9:30 a.m.”

  “You don’t have to bother, Miss Wang. We can walk to the administration building,” replied Meihua.

  “No. I’ve already arranged a car.” Miss Wang’s voice was firm. “I’m supposed to meet you at the guesthouse, okay?”

  “All right then, we shall see you there.” Meihua nodded, trailing behind Miss Wang. “Let me get the door for you.”

  During Agnes’s visit, Lon was permitted a week off from the mine. Yezi joined her parents and grandmother in most of their tours around the city—each accompanied by Miss Wang. They visited the Dragon Gate, the Golden Temple Park, the Black Dragon Pool and the Stone Forest—more places than she had ever visited in her entire life.

  In the Stone Forest, towering, dark brown boulders formed a breathtaking sight, the sky a pale blue expanse above them. Wisps of clouds drifted and changed into various shapes. The breeze brought the pleasant scent of camellia from nearby bushes. Miss Wang pointed out specific stones and told them legends about each one. Her tight voice echoed sharply around the stones. Yezi’s family followed her to a boulder shaped like a person which had been named, “Figure of Ashima.” Miss Wang explained to Yezi’s grandmother that “Ashima was the most beautiful girl of the Sani people.” Yezi listened attentively even though she already knew the story. “Ashima and her brother Ahei had lived happily in their tribe until one day a wicked magician carried her off to his castle—”

  Tugging her mother’s hand, Yezi whispered, “Ahei was her lover—”

  “Who told you that?” asked Meihua.

  “Popo Yao said Ashima was kidnapped by the chief’s son, but that her lover rescued her. He won over the chief’s son with his beautiful songs and his magic arrows.” She asked, “Why is Miss Wang telling a different story?”

  Pausing for a second, her mother said, “Her story comes from a different source, but the ending’s the same.” She did not want Yezi to question Miss Wang’s version of the tale out loud.

  Entranced by the boulder, Yezi thought about how Ashima had died in the flood caused by the villain who had deliberately broken the dam, and how, in death, she was transformed into a stone. A cloud cast its shade over the figure. She could almost hear the water crashing and see the tears trickle down Ashima’s face. Several skylarks darted around the top of the boulder. Their chirping brought her back to the reality of this lovely spring day, and the magic of sightseeing with her grandmother who had come from so far away.

  The family spent a lot of time with Agnes, but it was hard to talk privately, because Miss Wang was always with them. Meihua looked forward to their trip to Chengdu so that she could be alone with her mother, without the presence of Miss Wang hovering about and studying their every move. Despite the
fact that Yezi continued to stay with her grandmother at night, she did not know English well enough for them to talk about anything at length.

  One evening, seated together at the guesthouse, Agnes wrapped her arm around Yezi’s shoulder, a gesture of affection and contentment. Yezi clasped her grandmother’s hand. “I once dreamed of an old lady on the moon smiling at me. Now I know it was you.”

  Agnes smiled. “Honey, but what are your dreams for the future?”

  “Going to university.” Leaning on Agnes’s arms, Yezi closed her eyes and added wistfully, “I really don’t want to live in a camp.”

  Agnes’s face suddenly darkened. She was filled with mixed feelings, and troubling thoughts. “Maybe you would like to come to the United States and live with me?”

  “Maybe, someday. When I grow up, I will come to visit you in your country.”

  Agnes gently rocked her granddaughter in her arms. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say.

  Agnes and Meihua left for Chengdu, and Lon returned to work. Yezi resumed her daily routine at school. She had missed a whole week of school, and she needed to catch up with her class. She borrowed all the notes that Jian had taken in different classes. She didn’t want to miss completing any of the necessary assignments as failing a course might lead to her rejection from junior high school.

  One evening, while Yezi and Jian were finishing their homework together, Jian was particularly fidgety and distracted. Before leaving, Jian blurted out, “When are you going to the States?”

  “What? What do you mean? Who told you I was going anywhere?” gasped Yezi.

  “Some of the kids in our class said your grandmother came to take you away,” Jian said, her questioning eyes on Yezi’s face.

  “That’s not true,” sighed Yezi. “Why do people gossip about me?” She fanned her book in the air as if to blow the gossip away.

  “The teacher said American people are good. But that society is harmful because capitalism keeps most Americans in poverty,” said Jian. “I’m more than confused.”

  “So am I. Wait a second.” Walking over to the dresser, Yezi pulled open the top drawer and pulled out a dress. “This is from my grandmother. What do you think?”