Remembering 1942

by Liu Zhenyun

  “I’m busy and money’s tight. So please stop sending people here just so you can look good to your neighbors.” He showed the letter to his wife, who wasn’t fooled by his attempt to appease her.

  “I wouldn’t have married you if I’d known what your family was like.” She spit on the floor.

  That did not sit well with him.

  “I told you about my family and you said you didn’t care. Now you’re making it sound as if I deceived you.”

  They could fight all they wanted, but that did not stanch the flow. Over time she took the visits more calmly, but always with a frown. Whenever they showed up, he had the good sense to add only two dishes, maybe fish or chicken, and never offered liquor. If that made them unhappy, so be it. Better to upset them than upset his wife.

  But this particular visit called for more than a couple of added dishes. He didn’t know who the two visitors—one old and one young—were at first and had to ask which village they’d came from. The old man’s accent reminded Lin of his elementary school teacher, a Mr. Du, who had taught math and language for five years. One winter Lin had played hooky to go outside and play on the ice during study hall. The ice cracked and he fell into the water. Instead of giving him a hard time after he was rescued, the teacher stripped off Lin’s wet clothes and draped his own padded jacket over the boy. Seeing his teacher again after more than a decade, Lin could not hide his emotions. He went up, grabbed the old man’s hands, and said:

  “Teacher!”

  His emotions sparked a similar reaction from the old man. “I wouldn’t have recognized you on the street, Little Lin,” he said before introducing the young man, his son.

  Once they both had calmed down, Lin asked the purpose of the visit. He tensed up when the old man explained that he had emphysema, but the hospital in their hometown wasn’t advanced enough to see whether he had lung cancer. He recalled that his most accomplished student had made it to Beijing, so he came with his son for Lin’s help in finding a hospital for a diagnosis. If it turned out to be cancer, it would be best stay in a hospital for treatment; if not, he’d like an operation.

  “We’ll talk it over,” Lin said, while racking his brain for a solution. He didn’t know anyone at any Beijing hospital. The door opened and in walked his wife. Lin checked his watch; it was seven thirty. He tensed up again, observing the look on her face as he made the introductions. As expected, she did not appear happy to see the visitors, who had obviously fouled up the air and floor with their cigarettes and spittle. She nodded before ducking into the kitchen, from where the sound of her scolding the nanny for not having their daughter’s dinner ready emerged. Lin knew that the outburst was aimed at him. It was his fault; he’d been chatting his teacher and forgot to tell the nanny to get the child something to eat. Besides, with the addition of two guests, there’d be six to feed that night and nothing was ready. He excused himself and went in to explain to his wife. But first he took out the fifty Yuan as a token of good will before telling her that he had no choice, since the old man was his teacher, not just anyone from home. We’ll throw something together and it will be over soon. To his surprise, she smacked his hand, sending sent the five ten-Yuan bills flying.

  “To hell with you. You’re not the only one with a teacher. My child is hungry and I have no time to think about your teacher.”

  “Not so loud.” He reached out for her. “They could hear us.”

  “So what if they do?” She raised her voice. “With all these people coming and going, it’s like I’m running a hotel. I can’t take it anymore.” She sat on the edge of the sink and wept.

  He felt his anger rising, but it was pointless to be mad at a moment like this. His guests were still in the other room, so he had to entertain them. He could tell that his teacher had heard their argument. Being an educated man, he did not display arrogance over the less-than-cordial reception from Lin’s wife; instead, he said in a loud voice:

  “Don’t worry, Little Lin. We ate before we came. We’re staying in a hotel in Jinsongdi. We’re just here to say hello and bring you some local things from back home. We need to go soon so we won’t miss our train.”

  He had his son take two containers of sesame oil out of his canvas bag and take them into the kitchen.

  That made Lin feel even worse. He was sure his teacher hadn’t eaten, and had only said so for the benefit of Lin’s wife. Maybe it was the sesame oil, and maybe she was using better judgment, but in any case she cooked dinner. It was a nice meal, with four dishes, including a stir-fry with shrimp reserved for the child. Finally the meal was over and he walked the old man and his son out.

  “I’ve caused you trouble by coming here,” his teacher apologized. “I didn’t want to come, but your shimu said I should, so I did.”

  Lin’s heart ached when he noticed how the gray-headed, wrinkled old man hobbled along. He hadn’t even given him a chance to wash his face at home.

  “You need to get a checkup in Beijing. Let me find you a cheap place to stay, and I’ll ask around about hospitals tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I know what to do.” The old man waved him off and took off his hat to retrieve a piece of paper.

  “I was worried I might not find you, so I went to see Mr. Li, the section chief at the county education bureau. He has an old school friend who’s now a director at a big government office. See, he even wrote him a letter on my behalf. As a high-ranking cadre, his friend ought to be a big help.”

  Lin let his offer drop after what the man said, since he couldn’t possibly find a good hospital for his teacher anyway. He’d only be delaying the old man’s treatment, so it would be better for him to get help from the director. He walked father and son to a bus stop, where they said their good-byes. As the bus pulled out, his teacher was still waving at him and smiling, his body rocking back and forth each time the bus stopped and started up again. Tears welled up in Lin’s eyes when he saw the old man wave. Hadn’t his teacher smiled just like that when Lin was in elementary school? He didn’t turn to go home until the bus was out of sight. A great weight descended on him after he took only a few steps; like a mountain, it made him feel it could crush him at any moment.

  At the office the next day he read a commemorative essay about a major figure who had died some years before. It mentioned how the great man had revered educators, even once bringing the last two surviving teachers from his childhood to Beijing, where he’d put them up in the finest hotel and shown them all around the capital. Lin had had a favorable impression of the great figure until he read the piece.

  “Everyone wants to show respect to his teachers. I’d like to put mine up at the finest hotel and give him a tour of the city. But where do I get the money to do that?” He grumbled and threw the paper into the wastepaper basket.

  4

  Their daughter was sniffling and coughing, obviously coming down with something.

  “Your teacher has emphysema. Could he have given it to the kid when he visited?” his wife asked.

  Lin was just as worried. Everything changed when their daughter was sick. They couldn’t leave her with just the nanny, so one of them had to stay home. He was incensed by his wife’s preposterous faultfinding and blaming his teacher. He’d given her the cold shoulder for two days after his teacher left, as she had put him in a bad light and made him lose face in front of his teacher. The father and son had gotten a free meal, but they’d brought with them two containers of sesame oil that weighed five kilos altogether. In the open market a kilo of sesame oil cost sixteen Yuan, so it came to eighty Yuan for the oil. Had they eaten eighty Yuan worth of food that night? Knowing she’d gone too far, she did have a contrite look whenever she used the oil from his teacher. But now her worries over the sick child needed an outlet, and she wanted to regain an upper hand in the family, so the teacher became the best target.

  “What she needs now is a checkup. If that shows no connection to emphysema, laying the blame on him before the results are in would b
e utterly shameful.” He did not mince words.

  So they both asked for a day off to take her to the hospital for a checkup. But what it all came down to was—money. These days it cost twenty to thirty Yuan each time the child saw a doctor, since a lab test would be ordered, needed or not, and always a prescription to be filled. Lin didn’t mind that people in general weren’t honest, but doctors too? How were they supposed to survive with doctors like that? It once cost them seventy-five Yuan when the child had diarrhea. His wife had to laugh despite her outrage. “Imagine, seventy-five Yuan for a loose bowel movement!” She shook her head.

  They both felt they made trips with their daughter to the hospital just so they could be scammed. But what choice did they have if she ran a fever? Take this time, for example. They could tell she was running a fever as they headed out to see the doctor. Focusing all their energy on the girl, they forgot the blame game; they also put aside the knowledge that they’d be scammed again. They hurried out the door and squeezed their way onto a bus for the hospital, where a test showed she had nothing but a common cold. But at the pharmacy, the cashier wrote on the prescription the grand total of a little over forty-five Yuan.

  “You see, they’re skinning us again. Are we going to fill it?” she asked as she flicked the prescription.

  He ignored her. He’d been worried earlier, not knowing what had caused the fever and wondering if she’d caught something from his teacher. Now that it had turned out to be only a cold, he felt better. But then his temper flared up again. You were so sure she got it from my teacher, but the exam showed it was just a cold. What do you have to say to that? He wanted to clear that up with her before moving on to her question. But with a long line at the pharmacy cashier window and the throng of patients around them, this was obviously not the right place to have an argument, so he said gruffly:

  “Don’t come here if you don’t want to be skinned. Who says you have to get the medicine?”

  “All right, I won’t, if that’s what you think.” She picked up the girl and walked off. Now it was his turn to be worried, since he knew her well enough to realize that nothing could change her mind once she began to sulk. What would that mean for the child if they didn’t fill the prescription? He tried to stop her:

  “Don’t sulk over something like this. Here, give me the prescription.”

  But she wasn’t sulking.

  “Let’s not fill it this time.” She looked at him. “It’s just a cold. I still have some cold medicine from my office clinic that time I caught cold. We can give it to her. It’s some powder and Xianfeng tablets to bring down the temperature. That’s what we’d get no matter how much we spent.”

  “But that’s for adults; it’s not the same for children.”

  “Not the same? We’ll just give her less. Don’t worry. I’ll have her feeling better in three days without spending forty-five Yuan. I can get more at the office if she needs it.”

  She made sense. He touched the girl’s forehead. She was no longer running a fever, either because she’d just awakened or detected the smell of the hospital. Life had returned to her eyes, as she pointed at the melons across the street. Since she was feeling well enough to want a melon, he agreed to try his wife’s solution. They walked out the hospital to buy a slice of melon, which made the girl even livelier. No longer coughing, she jumped down, took Lin’s hand, and walked on her own. That cheered up both Lin and his wife, so he magnanimously dropped the subject of his wife’s accusation. She hadn’t meant it; she’d just blurted it out because she was worried sick. They were both in high spirits now that the sore subject had been dropped, they’d learned the cause of the child’s illness, and his wife had found a way to save them forty-five Yuan, found money. Warming to her as they passed a street with snacking stalls, he said:

  “You love pork-liver soup, don’t you? Go get a bowl.”

  She smacked her lips. “It’s one and half Yuan a bowlful. That seems a lot for a snack.”

  He took out the money and handed it to the stall owner.

  “Give us a bowl of pork-liver soup.”

  When the food came, she sat down sheepishly to eat. From the way she savored each bite, he knew she truly enjoyed it. She picked up two pieces of pig intestines for the girl, who found them too tough and spat them out. His wife picked them up and ate them herself. Then she insisted that he try the soup. Pig’s intestines had never agreed with him, and he was sure the soup would be awful. But she wouldn’t give up, pleading with him, the loving gaze transporting him back to when they were dating. He had to take a sip. There was cilantro in the steaming hot soup and it wasn’t too bad. She asked if he liked it and he said it was pretty good, earning him another loving gaze. Who knew that a bowl of pork-liver soup would give them a chance to relive tender moments from their past? Their high spirits lasted into the night.

  Back home, his wife gave the child some medicine and she went off to play. She slept soundly that night without coughing. When husband and wife heard the nanny snoring in her room, they got into action, like a couple of newlyweds. When it was over, without being asked, his wife admitted her mistake. She’d blamed it on Lin’s teacher because she was worried.

  “Then it has to be ours. We weren’t attentive enough, and the girl kicked the blanket off her at night.”

  But his wife said it wasn’t their fault either—it was someone else. Lin’s heart skipped a beat as he asked who could that be. She pointed to the other room, in other words, the nanny. She then rattled off a list of complaints: the girl was petty, lazy, and a gossip who talked about them to her nanny friends and revealed family secrets; she put on a show about caring for the child, but when they were at work, she let the child play with water, sleep, and watch TV alone. Of course the girl would catch cold. In September, his wife said, they’d send the child to day care and fire the nanny, who was paid forty Yuan a month. They spent another sixty to feed her, while she helped herself to their things. Taken together, she cost them more than a hundred Yuan a month, about the same each of them earned. No wonder they were always short of money. Once the child was in day care, their lives would get better, their future brighter!

  The conversation buoyed Lin, who added his complaints about the nanny, whom he had never really liked. It felt good to vent. They kissed good night and turned over to go to sleep. She was asleep in three minutes, as usual, but he couldn’t sleep, somewhat ashamed of what they’d said. They’d enjoyed a wonderful day, and it felt petty to blame all their problems on the nanny. The girl wasn’t even twenty, and so far away from home, working as a nanny. Feeling small-minded, Lin sighed as fatigue overtook him. He shut his eyes and went to sleep. No more thoughts about the nanny.

  But when morning came, he felt justified in those complaints. After his wife left early for work, Lin went out for his customary tofu purchase. It was drizzling and the line was shorter, so it didn’t take long to make the purchase. He should have gone to work after dropping off the tofu, but he looked at his watch and saw that he had plenty of time. Still worried about the child’s cold, he decided to double back and check up on the kid. When he got home, he saw that neither the beds nor the child’s breakfast was made, and the little girl had yet to take her medicine. The nanny had given her a basin of water to play with while she busied herself with her own breakfast. Lin and his wife had eaten leftovers that morning, adding hot water to some rice to eat with pickled vegetables. They knew the nanny didn’t eat leftovers, and it would have been fine with him if she were to make some congee for herself. Instead, she was making noodles in the pot reserved for making food for their daughter. A terrific smell greeted him as he walked in. She had put cilantro and baked tofu in the soup, had even added an egg. The nanny was startled when he walked in on her and quickly pushed the egg under the noodles, but too late. He felt his anger rising. What did she think she was doing? She should have taken care of the child first, but she was too busy stealing food for herself. Life is hard for all of us. We shouldn’t have talked abo
ut you behind your back and blamed you for everything, but you are unworthy of our respect and consideration. But he refrained from criticizing her. She was caught in the act, and he could have yelled at her, but with a nanny like her, how was he to know she wouldn’t take it out on the child after he left? The little girl was too young to suffer the consequences of her parents’ actions. So he walked over, took the basin away and dumped the water in the toilet. The child was sniffling again after playing with cold water. And now with her “toy” taken away, she plopped down on the floor and began to cry. Doing his best to ignore her, he slammed the door shut and went out to take a walk. As he raced down the stairs, he cursed inwardly,