Mulberry and Peach

by Hualing Nieh

  I hang up. The telephone rings again. Teng answers. ‘Hello . . . Wang! Yao-hua just called. Wants to borrow some money, probably trying to get a fix, doesn’t seem like he’s going to kill himself ... Luckily he still has friends like you; everyone’s busy, no one has time to look after anyone else—OK, goodbye.’

  Two hours later, the phone rings. I answer it. ‘Hello!’

  ‘A Chinese jumped to his death from the 35th floor of Rockefeller Center. We’ve found out the dead person’s name is Jim Chang. We don’t know if it’s Chang Yao-hua or not.’

  ‘I don’t know either,’ I say.

  They’re in the living room talking about Yao-hua’s death I’m thinking about the child in my womb. Tan-hung still can’t decide if she wants to raise the child as she talks she feeds A-king milk. When I think of the child’s fate after birth—an illegitimate child with no roots I don’t have the courage to keep it. If Tan-hung raises the child I won’t ever worry about it.

  The train roars past I suddenly discover I am standing in the subway tunnel from behind me shoes pounding the cement. It’s probably the man in the dark glasses who’s coming! I begin to run in the tunnel the tunnel so black, so dark I can’t see the end in front of me appears a policeman. There’s no way out! He’s coming toward me! The shoes on the cement behind me stop I also stop the policeman also stops. Three people stand far apart from each other no one can grab anyone, no one can escape—there’s no exit in the tunnel. I don’t dare look around only hear the man behind me yell: ‘Hello! Have you heard? A monster from outer space has invaded New York! It’s taken over the Empire State Building! Did you hear about it? Did you hear?’

  When Tan-hung goes out, Teng and I put the dog in a picnic basket and take him away. Teng says Tan-hung doesn’t know what to do with her life, if she doesn’t have the dog then she will want to raise a child, so we’ll simply get rid of the dog. But I don’t want her to raise my child, I only think killing the dog is something new to do.

  We go by subway to the hospital, and we’re going to give the dog to the hospital for their experimental research.

  I like to travel back and forth in the subway network. I’ve never taken the wrong train. I know which train goes where. Some people jump into a car and ask in a foreign accent: ‘Is this train going uptown or downtown?’ I reply, ‘This is the shuttle, it runs from Grand Central Station to Times Square and connects with the eastbound and westbound trains.’ In New York, giving such definite answers to passengers is one of the happiest things in the world.

  The subway is very colourful: skin colour, clothes, the advertisements. Miss Subway shows her white teeth as she smiles down from the blown-up photograph, her name, address and resume are printed under her picture. ‘College graduate, stenographer, likes to eat steak and pickles, hopes to find an ideal man and have five children. Sports: swimming, dancing. Her older brother died in Vietnam. Her younger brother is there now.’

  That’s what the colours are like.

  On the subway Teng tells me how to kill a dog: first anaesthetise it and put it to sleep, give it an electrical shock in the cerebral cortex to keep it alive for a few days, then anaesthetise it again, slit open the chest, stain the cerebral cortex with a special dye and slice it into pieces. Then you can observe changes in the brain cells. When he finishes explaining the process, he changes his mind: we’ll go throw the dog off the Washington Bridge into the Hudson River. Of course I agree.

  We squeeze our way out of the subway, buy some strong rope, put a few rocks in the basket and seal the lid with some sticks. The dog desperately paws inside the basket, just like he pawed at Tan-hung’s bedroom door.

  We ride a bus past Central Park, riding along the river, we can see from the distance the high arch of lights on Washington Bridge. The dog thrusts himself against the basket. The basket is propped up against my legs. I can feel the dog’s strength and warmth on my legs. The little body in my womb begins moving. Only three months now.

  Teng and I are standing on Washington Bridge. The dark waters of the Hudson flow on below. I pick up the basket and weigh it in my hand; it’s very heavy. ‘Good-bye, little Peking,’ I say. We let the rope out a little at a time and lower the basket to the water. The rope jerks in my hand, as it reaches the water it jerks more violently, then slowly grows lax and then is quiet.

  Tan-hung has discovered that the dog is missing. She sits silently on the sofa. Occasional noises outside make her sit up and she calls, ‘A-king? You’ve come back. A-king, A-king.’

  Her husband says he’ll buy her another dog. She says, ‘Don’t bother.’

  Does this face in the mirror belong to me? I want to cry but the face in the mirror is smiling. I’m grinning ear to ear just like a clown.

  I write a note to Tan-hung, I killed your A-king, I don’t know why I did such a thing I wish I were dead. Mulberry. I tape the note to her bedroom door.

  The note is gone she probably read it and tore it up. I can’t face her again, but I need her to raise my child.

  I tore up the note, Mulberry. You mind your own business. I killed the dog. Tan-hung is not going to raise your child, so don’t think about it.

  I really have gone crazy. I’m afraid of that other self, her only purpose is to destroy me.

  Suddenly I find myself walking between two rows of grey buildings on Wall Street. A strip of sky above. I don’t know how I got here and I don’t know where I’m going. Wall Street is crowded with men, most of them dressed in dark blue suits and carrying attaché cases. The man in dark glasses is hidden among them as soon as I see him I run away.

  The man in dark glasses is walking toward me on the sidewalk I run into the stock exchange and squeeze into an elevator. The man in dark glasses is in the elevator. I can’t escape! But he doesn’t see me he’s only looking at the buttons in the elevator. As soon as the elevator stops I dash out. He is there in the corridor. The man in dark glasses is everywhere. The only way I can get away is to find the women’s restroom. I run through the stock exchange but I can’t find the women’s restroom upstairs I barge into a corridor, from that corridor you can see the world of stocks separated from you by glass: There in that enormous room people wave their hands some look like they are shouting some look like they are making speeches others move their lips some stand face to face opening and closing their mouths, someone else paces studying things he is writing in a notebook some throw scraps of paper on the floor and stamp on them. People run wildly around the room, they all seem drunk and they all look at the wall where an automated sign flashes countless symbols and numbers, right and left, flashing, changing continuously.

  There’s the man in the dark glasses. I run down to the basement. A policeman walks over and asks blandly what am I doing. I stammer that I have to go to the bathroom. I’m sorry there are no women’s toilets, he says and takes the bunch of keys dangling from his waist, selects a key and unlocks a door for me. He tells me this isn’t a public toilet but he will let me use it. With another key he opens another door to let a man in a grey suit go inside.

  I am safe in the toilet I don’t want to leave. The policeman knocks on the door saying I’ve been in here an hour and now I must come out I don’t answer. Then there’s a click and the door opens the policeman is standing there in the doorway of the toilet. I thought you went bankrupt playing the market and killed yourself he says.

  I was the one who went to Wall Street, but you were the one who returned.

  Tan-hung and I left together. She went to Wall Street to see her husband. I went to explore Wall Street. We took the bus.

  ‘He killed A-king,’ Tan-hung said suddenly.

  ‘Who?’ I asked.

  ‘Jerry.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He’s jealous. But he’s so cold he won’t even show jealousy. But I know he did something to A-king. Jerry is just the opposite of Lu, my first husband. Lu was very loving and sensitive when he was young. When the Communists took over he came to America. I followed hi
m from the mainland to America.’ Tan-hung smiled wanly. ‘We were married. When the Communists took over the mainland, he panicked. His source of income was cut off. He didn’t work and didn’t study hard, just loafed around; he wanted to organise some kind of a third power. After I got my Master’s, I found work in New York. He refused to come to New York; he didn’t want me to support him. We were separated more than a year. When I saw him again, his features had completely changed; his face distorted by bitterness. He cursed the world, cursed the times, cursed the Communists, cursed the Nationalists, cursed everybody. Of course he also cursed me. He suspected that I’d slept with every man—my boss, my colleagues, even the doorman! He threatened that he’d destroy me. I almost lost my life. After that I’ve been afraid of men who get emotional. I married Jerry only because he was so cold. He’s a second-generation overseas Chinese, you know. He seems to have transcended problems of the Chinese. The first time we met was at La Guardia Airport. I was sitting in the boarding lounge waiting for a plane. He walked over and asked me if I wasn’t Chinese. He pulled a pile of drafts out of his bag. He said they were articles his father had written. Because they were in Chinese, he didn’t understand them. Before, he had opposed his father because he was too stubborn, too arbitrary, conservative. He couldn’t stand it. But after his father died, he then discovered he himself had his father’s character. He suddenly wanted to know what his father was like; he had been looking everywhere for someone to translate his father’s articles into English; he could get to know his father from his writings. He hoped I could help. That was the only time in all these years I ever saw him get emotional. That’s how we met and got married.’ Tan-hung paused: ‘I hadn’t been able to decide about raising the child. Now, I’ve made a decision.’

  I looked at her.

  ‘I’ve decided I don’t want the child.’

  ‘I never thought to give the child to anyone.’

  She looked at me strangely. ‘I’ve decided to leave Jerry.’

  ‘Because of A-king?’

  ‘No. A-king’s death only helped me decide. Jerry and I have always had problems. Right now I’m going to Wall Street to meet him for lunch and talk about it.’

  The bus stopped at Wall Street.

  I call more than twenty places from a list in a magazine of New York city doctors who perform abortions before finally getting ahold of a Dr Beasley. He says he has a long waiting list of people waiting to get an abortion, he can’t see me for two weeks. I say getting an abortion is a matter of life or death for me I beg him to find a way to see me earlier he laughs and says women wanting abortions all say that. He suddenly asks me what nationality I am. I say Chinese. He pauses and says he’ll do the best he can to see me within three days, he will first perform an examination at his clinic then perform the surgery the next day at a nearby hospital. He will reserve a hospital bed for me. The total cost will be four hundred dollars.

  I call I-po he is very happy that everything has been arranged. He insists on paying all the costs he says he’s never loved a woman like this before.

  I tell Teng I have decided not to get an abortion. He says I should be completely free to make my own decision. No matter what I decide, he’ll support it.

  We talk about Tan-hung and her husband’s separation. We decide not to tell her about killing the dog. That incident helped Tan-hung make a courageous decision. He says that sacrificing a dog’s life to save a human life is very humane. He thinks that constant change keeps us alive. A person changes by his own choice. He also has a decision to make. After he tells me that he becomes silent. I tell him how I teased Jerry and made him blush. He laughs and says he didn’t think that Jerry was capable of blushing. He says he has a good story to tell me.

  The Action Committee still hadn’t decided upon a course of action when they had an internal split. One evening, Teng left the meeting feeling depressed and went alone to the Red Onion bar to drink. He met an American girl there, a baby face with a woman’s body. They drank together, danced and then went to her apartment. She lives in public housing on 110th Street. She stripped off her clothes the minute she walked into the room. He made love to her. He fondled her. She moaned. He suddenly thought about the wooden sign at the entrance to the park in the foreign concession in Hankow: CHINESE AND DOGS NOT ADMITTED. He remembered how the foreign policemen used to beat the rickshaw pullers with their batons. He was still fondling the woman. Her moans were coming to a climax. He told her this was their first time and their last time. He never saw the same woman twice. As he said that his caresses became more tender. The woman didn’t seem to hear what he had said, she cried and laughed yelling that he was a son of a bitch and that she had never been so happy. She jerked violently, then was calm. But he started to get excited. He entered her. She kept on saying: the bed is a man’s magnifying glass, where a man’s egoism is magnified ten thousand times. Relax. She didn’t want anything to do with Chinese. She went to bed with him because she was bored. He was still moving on top of her. She picked up the phone beside the bed and called another man to discuss male genitalia. She laughed into the phone. Teng yelled as he lay on top of her—what she was saying excited him. At last she said into the phone ‘This little Chinaman on me has a huge prick.’ Teng suddenly went limp, and rolled off her body. She threw down the phone, saying that this was the biggest insult in her life; she’d never had a man become impotent inside her. Little Chinaman! Little Chinaman! Little Chinaman! She kept yelling at him, who lay naked on the bed. He put on his clothes and left. If he hadn’t left then he would have pulled out the sailor’s knife to kill her—he always carries his sailor’s knife.

  I am suddenly standing by the doorway to Number 34 of a large building the sign by the door says ‘OBSTETRICIAN- DR BEASLEY’. I push the door open and walk in, the waiting room is packed with women more than half are young women they happily talk about the birth of their child. In addition are several young girls sitting in a corner not saying anything looking very nervous very shy. They’re probably only sixteen or seventeen years old just the age I was when I ran away from home and had the adventure in the Yangtze River Gorges. I fill out my medical history form at the nurse’s desk and walk over to sit in the corner with those girls. A cat walks over to me.

  I see Sang-wa again she is sitting on the ground in the courtyard holding the white cat with a black tail, a strong light shines on her body I can’t even open my eyes ...

  I don’t know what happened after that.

  But I know!

  I only went to see Dr Beasley out of curiosity. He looked at my medical history form; examined me; discovered I was already three months pregnant, he couldn’t perform the regular method of scraping the womb, he must employ injection of a saline solution. He explained that the special saline solution was injected into the womb, after forty-eight hours the embryo would automatically miscarry. That’s a dangerous operation, it’s no light undertaking to perform it; not only that, the hospitals in New York City which performed that operation didn’t have any empty beds, there were too many people waiting to get abortions, I have to wait another month. In the state of Pennsylvania alone every two hours an illegitimate child is born; he could give me a list of doctors in the suburbs, if I’m lucky, perhaps I could find a suburban doctor who would perform the saline solution injection for abortion.

  ‘I’m sorry! I’ve already done my best to see you within three days, because you’re Chinese. During the war . . .’

  ‘Doctor, which war?’ I asked.

  ‘The Second World War. I was a doctor for the army in Burma. I served the Chinese army. With my own eyes I saw so many, so many Chinese die.’

  ‘I want to keep the Chinese in my womb!’ I said, smiling. ‘I’m happy I’m already past the safety period for getting an abortion. I don’t plan to look for another doctor.’

  ‘Hen hao—very good.’ He spoke in Chinese. ‘You’re the only person I’ve seen who is happy because you weren’t able to get an abortion. Good luck to Chi
na!’

  I make more than forty long distance phone calls to doctors on the list Dr Beasley gave me. I’m sorry the doctor is on vacation I’m sorry the doctor does not perform abortions by saline injection I’m sorry there are too many people waiting for an abortion I’m sorry the doctor is too busy I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry . . .

  I have to go back in three days. I came to New York to see a huge pile of steel, glass and people—my trip wasn’t a waste.

  Teng is going back with me. His job at the hospital is all set, salary at $15,000 per year. But he’s become very silent, only saying ‘his heart is in turmoil’.

  I call I-po, tell him I couldn’t get an abortion. He stammers and can’t say anything, finally says, ‘Please wait a minute. I want to go to the toilet.’ I hang up, laughing.

  Tan-hung and Jerry are sitting in the living room discussing hiring a lawyer to prepare the divorce papers. Next week Tan-hung will go to Taiwan for a vacation. Perhaps she won’t come back, she says. Jerry gives her a going-away gift, looks like a tube of lipstick, it turns out to be a new kind of camera. Tan-hung can use it on her trip, he says. They even talk about scenery in Japan.