The Far Side of the Night

by Jan-Philipp Sendker

  _________

  The lift went straight down to the underground parking garage. For a building that was almost unoccupied, it was surprisingly full. Christine noticed several large Mercedes saloons, Audis, Porsches, and even a Bentley. “Why are there so many cars parked in the garage?” she asked. “I thought hardly anyone lived here.”

  “These are the third or fourth cars of the flat-owners,” Gao Gao said, grinning. “They’re hiding them here. No one has to know how many cars a person has.”

  She led the way to a small van. When Christine opened the door, two boxes and a shopping bag fell out. Gao Gao had to clear the passenger seat before she could get in.

  The light in the garage went out but came back on again immediately. They heard voices, and saw two men, one older and one younger, walking towards their vehicle. Gao Gao greeted them in a friendly manner as they walked past. They got into a silver-gray Mercedes sports car and sat in it.

  Christine hurriedly closed her door.

  “Don’t worry,” Gao Gao said. “That’s the gay couple from the fourteenth floor. They sometimes sit in their new Mercedes for hours without driving it.”

  “Why do they do that?”

  “No idea. Maybe they don’t want to get it dirty.”

  Gao Gao was a brisk driver. The tires squealed at every turn in the parking garage and she drove up the ramp at full speed.

  Christine gripped the handle above her door with both hands. “We’re going to a church service at Pastor Lee’s, aren’t we?” she asked once more, to make sure.

  “Yes.”

  “Did your parents believe in God?”

  The thought amused Gao Gao. “No. Maybe my father did when he was young. His god was called Mao. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering why you go to church.”

  “That’s a long story.”

  They stopped at a red light at an empty crossing.

  “My father died three years ago. After that, I was very ill, and it wasn’t clear if I would survive. A young doctor in the hospital told me about Jesus Christ properly for the first time. I listened to him only because I did not want him to go away. I was alone, and I liked his voice. At some point his strange stories began to interest me. A god who had created the world and who sent his son to earth as a sacrifice for the love of his people?”

  They drove through the streets of the ghost town, which was as deserted on this Sunday morning as it had been when they arrived.

  “The longer I listened to the doctor, the more I was drawn into his stories. He claimed that everything was connected. My mother’s early death. My lonely childhood. The emptiness that I had often felt even as a teenager. The gold rush. The way I frittered money away on bags, shoes, and clothes. Everything was His will. He had been testing me, harshly and severely. He had led me into temptation and saved me in the end. Now he would free me.”

  Gao Gao stepped on the accelerator in order not to have to stop at the next red light. She almost ran over a meandering cat in the process.

  “I didn’t believe him,” she said. “Who was He? Was there any proof He existed? If He did, why had He taken little Gao Gao’s mother away from her? Where was He when my father leapt to his death? Why did He allow so much misery and sorrow in the world if He could give people full bellies and make them happy?”

  “And did the doctor have an answer?” Christine asked in a skeptical tone.

  “Always the same one: if you believed in Him, everything made sense, even if it sometimes remained hidden to humankind. If I was prepared to follow Him, he would give me a comfort I had not known before: a feeling of security. I would be raised up into a family, protected by a Father who would never leave me, no matter where I went or what I did. I just had to trust Him. Let myself go. Stop doubting. Believe. I couldn’t resist this temptation.”

  Gao Gao turned into a parking garage. “And you?” she asked. “Are you religious?”

  “No,” Christine said. “I think I’ve never been to a church service. I went into St John’s Cathedral in Hong Kong once. But only because it was raining so hard that I had to take shelter somewhere.”

  Gao Gao laughed. “Have you never been interested in it?”

  “No. Gods and religions have never played any role in my life. Neither in my childhood nor in my marriage later, or in my everyday life with Paul. I don’t give it any thought. I’m just superstitious.”

  “Do you go to see fortune tellers?”

  “Yes of course. I believe in lucky and unlucky numbers. And in feng shui. There’s a red ribbon hanging from David’s bed that is meant to protect him. Next to the front door of my house I have set up a small altar, where I regularly make offerings of fresh fruit and joss sticks to appease the household spirits. I don’t know if it helps, but I thought it couldn’t hurt. My mother always says that there are five religions in China: Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, Christianity and Pragmatism. The last one is her favorite, and the most widespread one.”

  Gao Gao laughed again. “She’s probably right.”

  _________

  The hallway in the pastor’s flat smelled of roast meat. She heard a babble of voices through the open door. Young people, old people, and even families with small children had turned up.

  Women and men were preparing lunch together in the kitchen. Gao Gao introduced her to a few people, who were immediately curious about her. Did she go to church in Hong Kong? No? A moment’s unease. All the better that she found her way to God here with them, then. It was never too late. Once He had revealed himself to her, there was no going back; she would see.

  It was only Pastor Lee who was no friendlier on seeing her again. He greeted her briefly, pressed a Bible into everyone’s hands, and turned away.

  Foldable chairs were tightly packed together in the living room. They sat down in the second row. Two young men, one with a guitar and the other with a violin, went to the front and started singing and playing. A mobile phone rang. Then another one. The young woman sitting next to Christine turned to her and hugged her. “God bless you.”

  Gao Gao had been right: the openness and warmth with which these people treated her did her good.

  Years ago, Christine had asked Paul what he believed in. He had taken a long time to give her a satisfactory answer. When he held his newborn son in his arms for the first time, he said that he had found the answer. He believed in the power that was in this little heart. In every heart. In hope. In promises. In magic. He believed in the greatness, the tenderness, and the uniqueness that was within every living being. In the selfless love that it was possible to give. It was quite simply a straightforward belief in humankind: in love and in life, with all its tragedy and beauty.

  His words had moved her then. She had written them down some time after he said them. His was a world view that trusted people, that believed in the good, and that did not include a god or a higher power. That spoke to her. We create peace ourselves. We create happiness ourselves. We create meaning ourselves.

  Now she felt doubtful. Had there not been many bad things in her life? Her own brother had betrayed their father and driven him to his death. Destroyed her family. A whole country of people had been set loose on each other and had sunk into a bloody orgy of lies and betrayal, murder and bloodshed.

  Had she not experienced too much sorrow and senseless pain to believe in goodness? Did she need to encounter a spoilt and crazed son of a senior Communist Party official who wanted to give her child to his girlfriend as a present to clearly see the evil in humankind? She had refused to see it for too long.

  It had been simpler that way.

  _________

  Pastor Lee stepped forward, stood behind a pulpit and spread his arms out. The congregation fell silent.

  “Hallelujah,” he said.

  “Hallelujah,” the believers chorused in reply.

  “Hallelujah!” he said again, louder.

  “Hallelujah!” echoed the enthusiastic response.

  Everythin
g seemed strange to her. Singing together. Praying together. The conviction with which the prayers were spoken. The passionate sermon. The pastor whispered, hissed, and screamed. Some words he spat out at them, others were delivered in a tone of awe, like precious things. He castigated the evils of the world in a long tirade. Sin found a home everywhere. In every one of us. Every beat of the human heart is evil from the start.

  But there was salvation.

  And the savior had a name. Let us praise him. Hallelujah.

  Lord, forgive us for our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us.

  Christine started to feel unwell. She felt very hot, and the air was stale. Her shoulders were tense. She slid from side to side on her seat and looked around her. The congregation was lapping every word up. Many of them had their eyes closed and heads bowed.

  Lee told ever more bloody tales of fratricide and sacrifices from the beginning of mankind. She listened attentively, but felt that this was getting too much for her. The condemnation of sin. The demonization of humankind. The fury with which he spoke.

  She would have liked to get up and go, but she didn’t dare to.

  The pastor kept preaching.

  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory for ever. Amen.

  Christine could no longer stand it. She got up and made her way through the rows of chairs. The pastor cast her a disapproving look. It was just as warm and humid in the hallway and in the kitchen.

  She sat on the stairs outside the flat. It was cool and quiet there. After a few minutes Gao Gao came to stand behind her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well. I’m better now,” she lied.

  Gao Gao brought her a glass of water and sat down next to her on the stairs.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “I just suddenly found it . . .” Christine searched for the right word. “Too cramped. Too many people. I’m sorry if I offended anyone.”

  “No problem.” The sound of the believers singing loudly came from the flat. “We’re lucky there aren’t any neighbors.”

  Christine thought about Paul and the children. About the US embassy and the security it represented. She just wanted to get away. “How far is it from here to Beijing?”

  “About eight hours by car. Depends on the traffic.”

  Christine didn’t dare to say what was in her head. Did she dare to ask such a thing?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Gao Gao said. “Your husband told me everything. I spent all night thinking about whether to drive you there.”

  She paused for a long time. “To be honest, it’s too much of a risk for me. If Chen’s son wants your child at any cost, he will do anything. You’re safe with me in the flat. I don’t know how he would ever find you here. But everything would change as soon as you were on your way to Beijing. I would prefer your friend to find another option. Can you understand that?”

  Christine nodded. She had no right to expect more help. Would she do any different if she were in Gao Gao’s position? Probably not. But she was still disappointed. Where did people draw the line in their willingness to help others? What sacrifices was a Christian prepared to make to help strangers in need? We are all brothers and sisters, she had said. Fellow human beings. Creations of the same God. One big family. Did that not count any longer?

  What would Gao Gao do if they heard nothing more from Zhang because he had already been arrested? What would she do with them then? Kick them out of her flat? Tell the police about them, because the risk of keeping them under her roof had become too great? A wave of suspicion rose in Christine. It was a sickness that she had been infected with in China, she thought. A highly infectious virus that she now carried within her, and which took every opportunity to break out.

  IX

  Of course she could use the telephone. And yes, to Hong Kong too, of course. Wherever she wanted, as long as she needed.

  Her mother did not answer the telephone. She was probably out with friends having dim sum or playing mahjong. Christine left a message and apologized for her long silence. Her mobile phone was out of order, she said, and she had made a last-minute decision to extend her trip and travel to Beijing and Shanghai as well. They were all well and would be back in the next few weeks.

  Christine wondered if she should also call Josh in Australia. Since he had gone to Sydney three months ago to study architecture at university they had spoken on the phone regularly, often several times a week, if only for a few minutes each time. He mostly had questions on practical matters or needed her help. He must have tried to contact her and be getting worried.

  Yes, fine to call Sydney, Gao Gao yelled from the kitchen. No problem.

  His voice. It had been a good idea to phone him.

  “Where are you, Mama?” He sounded worried.

  “My mobile phone is broken. We’re still in China.” Her voice broke. When she had not spoken to him for some time, the feeling of missing him hit her even more strongly.

  “How are you, darling?”

  “Fine.”

  “How’s your course?”

  “Also fine.”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Studying.”

  Josh was not a talkative person, and even less so on the telephone. He was like his father in that respect, Christine thought. They had spent a large part of their marriage in silence. Exchanged a few words about the day over dinner and turned on the television after that.

  Later on, the television had been on even during dinner.

  “Can you transfer me some money?”

  “Again? What for?”

  “The course material is much more expensive than we thought.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Will five hundred Hong Kong dollars be enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll do it once we’re back in Hong Kong.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you called Grandma?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “I’m sure she’d be glad to hear from you.”

  They fell silent. Christine was relieved that he wasn’t asking any questions. She did not want to lie. Yet she felt annoyed that he didn’t ask how they were. What they were doing. Whether his little brother missed him.

  “When will you be back in Hong Kong?”

  “Next week. We extended our trip.”

  He didn’t say anything. As though it was the most normal thing in the world for them to stay in China for two weeks rather than two days. He probably had no interest in their trip at all.

  She heard him breathing and wished he would say something. Christine suddenly felt afraid to end the conversation. His voice gave her the feeling of him being near, and a sense of familiarity. It was a link to her life before they had been forced to go on the run. When would she hear it again?

  “Josh? Are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s talk again soon. I’ll call when we’re back in Hong Kong.”

  “Bye then.”

  “Look after yourself.”

  “ . . .”

  “I love you.”

  A brief “You too” would have been enough. Two words. She didn’t expect much.

  He put down the phone instead.

  Paul was right, she thought. He hated talking about serious things or asking questions with the phone pressed to his ear. He had to see the person he was speaking to in order to make sure that what he said was being reflected in their body language and facial expression, and to see if that was in agreement with the look in their eyes. He thought the telephone merely magnified a person’s mood. It made the secure more secure, the anxious more anxious, and the lonely feel lonelier.

  Christine was anxious and lonely right now. Speaking to Josh for even longer than she had done would not hav
e changed anything about that.

  X

  One ring of the doorbell and two anxious looks.

  “Are you expecting guests?” Paul asked suspiciously.

  “No.” Gao Gao went to the door. A deep male voice spoke through the intercom. Li Gang. Her only loyal visitor.

  Since his wife’s death a year ago, he often dropped by for a cup of tea on Sunday afternoons. Supposedly because Gao Gao had the best Oolong tea. But really because he was taking the opportunity to make advances to her that she rejected every time. Sometimes in a friendly manner, and sometimes in a brusque one.

  He was twenty years older than her, almost her father’s age. And a widower. That was unlucky, a fortune teller had once warned her. Apart from that, she had lost interest in sex. If she did feel the need for it from time to time, she satisfied herself. It was simple that way.

  She opened the door and wondered if it would be safer to hide her guests from him. But if one of the children in the bedrooms made a noise, that could make him suspicious. It was better to say that she had a friend visiting from Hong Kong with her family. Gao Gao was about to tell Paul who was visiting and to warn him to be careful what he said, but Li Gang stepped out of the lift just then.

  Christine and Da Lin had disappeared into their rooms. David was much too curious to follow. He hid behind his father’s legs and stared at the stranger inquisitively.

  Li Gang was both surprised and disappointed in the first instance when he saw Paul and David.

  After hesitating briefly, he accepted the offer of a cup of tea. His daughter lived in Hong Kong and he was glad to hear that Paul lived there too. They talked at length about the city and about what had changed since it had been returned to China. The conversation moved on to traditional Chinese wisdom, Chinese sayings, and the poetry of the Tang dynasty. Gao Gao had never met a Westerner who had even the sketchiest knowledge of this.

  They defrosted a Black Forest gateau from a bakery in Qingdao that claimed to have followed an original German recipe. Christine and Da Lin emerged briefly to greet the guest, but quickly withdrew again.

  Li Gang asked for a whiskey.

  “You’re a lucky man,” he said to Paul. “A beautiful wife and two healthy children.”