Butterfly Tears

by Zoë S. Roy

  “No. I … I enjoyed the dance,” Jiang hesitated to explain. “I had polio as a child.”

  The young man seemed frozen for a second. “Is that true?” he said, his hand brushing the hair off his forehead. “Why don’t I get you something to drink,” he added. He made his way quickly to a vendor selling bottled juice on the sidewalk, as if he had fled from a corpse.

  When he returned, he passed the juice to her. “Let’s go back.” Without waiting for Jiang’s response, he strode purposely back to the dance hall.

  Jiang’s heart sank. She felt certain that her lame leg was the reason for his sudden change of heart. In China, a disability could mark you for life.

  In Canada, she had hoped things would be different. She worked as a civil engineer after graduating from a Master’s program at Queen’s University in Kingston. On weekends, she liked to go to the university library’s reading room to pour over newspapers and magazines in Chinese. She enjoyed reading in Chinese as it helped release in her the mixed feelings she had about living alone, studying hard, and striving to succeed in a new country without any relatives or close friends to turn to.

  One afternoon, while immersed in a copy of Readers magazine, Jiang was interrupted by a male voice. “Excuse me, is that Issue Eight?”

  She raised her head. “Yes, it is.”

  “Are you a student?”

  “Just graduated. How about you?”

  “Post-doctoral.”

  “Interesting.” Jiang was curious. “Where did you get your Ph.D.?”

  “London University.”

  “Wow!” she said, “You’ve been to England!”

  They got along immediately. Limin looked modest and amiable, which made a good impression on Jiang.

  They discovered they had, at one time, lived in the same province in China. Sharing their memories of the well-known local foods of Jiangsu Province made conversation easy. They recalled delicacies like the dry bean curd strips of Zhengjiang, the mini steamed buns stuffed with crab ova of Yangzhou, and the salted duck and boiled hatched eggs of Nanjing.

  In time, they became more intimate with each other, going out to Chinese restaurants and watching movies several times a month. Considerate of her lame leg, Limin slowed down his step to match hers whenever they walked somewhere together. This flattered Jiang. Her experience told her that most Chinese men were more likely to avoid her after noticing her difference. It wasn’t long before they began to spend nights together.

  Jiang soon learned Limin had a wife and son in China. He hadn’t tried to hide that. But he had never mentioned that they would come to Canada to join him either. She felt certain that he would choose her as his life partner and that together they would start a new life in this new country.

  Then, two weeks ago, very suddenly, he announced, “The arrangements for my wife and child are done.”

  “What arrangements?” Her voice quivered. “Do you mean they’re coming to Canada?”

  “Of course.” He looked at her and added, “We will have to stop; they’ll be here soon.”

  She cleared her throat. “But what about our future?”

  “We do not have a future. Why would you think this?”

  “What?” She choked up and her lips trembled. “I didn’t expect this.”

  “I told you I was married. This was pleasant. Love between a man and a woman benefits both,” he said with a carefree tone. “Neither should blame the other when the time comes to part company.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing. They had been lovers for seven months. To her, a girl only lost her virginity to a man who would be her husband. She had played the role of wife for half a year. She knit wool sweaters for him, and he celebrated her birthday with her. He bought her gifts, and told her he cared about her. He had given her the impression that he had been comparing her to his wife in order to determine who would be a better life partner. She had been confident about her candidacy. She thought someday he would divorce his wife and marry her.

  She could not believe their love affair had come to an end. That’s why she went to see him, to confront him. He had to make a commitment. He owed it to her.

  ***

  The morning sun rose gradually, but she could not see any signs of hope with this new day. She needed a shoulder to cry on, but did not have any friends or relatives to whom she could pour out her sad story. She thought of her father and how much she missed him. At that moment her father’s death came back to haunt her like a nightmare relived. Her eyes dimmed with dismay as if she had seen dead water slowly flooding the world.

  She heard a knock on the door. When the second knock sounded, she got out of bed and threw on some clothes, wondering who could be knocking at this hour. Is it him?

  “Ms. Jiang Liu, open the door! It’s the police.”

  She was astonished. Why had the police come? She hurried out of the bedroom and rushed to open the front door. Two constables entered the living room, a man and a woman. The policewoman asked, “Is your name Jiang Liu?”

  Jiang nodded.

  “Last night did you drop by Mr. Limin Ding’s place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you damage anything?”

  “We—”

  “Threaten him with death?”

  “I—I was angry.” Jiang had not expected Limin to report the incident to the police.

  “So,” the policewoman continued, “we assume Mr. Ding told us the facts, unless you deny what happened. This is a warning. You harass Mr. Ding again, and he complains, we will have to lay charges.”

  Jiang’s face turned ashen. The policewoman handed her a business card. “Ms. Liu,” she said sympathetically, “give me a call if you need help. But please, for your own sake, don’t phone or visit Mr. Ding again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, of course.” Jiang nodded. She gazed into the policewoman’s young, kind face, then pleaded with her own. “But, you don’t understand....”

  “Understand what?” The two constables waited for a moment. But Jiang did not say anything more.

  Dizzy and exhausted, Jiang returned to the bedroom after the police left. She lay down and buried her face in her pillow. She did not have the energy to get ready to go to work. She would stay home.

  ***

  Jiang was named after the Yangtze River. She was born into a teacher’s family. Her father taught mathematics at a secondary school, and her mother taught Chinese history at an elementary school. As a child, Jiang’s lame leg didn’t seem to matter as she came from a loving and caring family.

  In the early summer of 1966, with the arrival of the Cultural Revolution, everything changed. At that moment, the entire world became chaotic and it seemed that everybody was riled up, and afraid.

  One day, her father found a half page of The People’s Daily with Chairman Mao’s portrait on the dirty floor in a public washroom. He picked up the page, took it home, and then burned it as he did not like to see Mao’s portrait sullied. Her mother saw him burning Mao’s image and reported it to the “Rebels” organization at the secondary school. The revolutionists arrested her father and shaved one side of his head, giving him a yin-yang head – a form of humiliation enacted on anti-revolutionaries. Then they forced him to kneel down and confess his crime at a denunciation meeting. Unable to endure torture and fearing a jail sentence, her father drowned himself.

  Heartbroken, Jiang abhorred her mother and hated the Cultural Revolution, but dared not speak out. She was no longer a cheerful stream, but a long, dark river, running to nowhere.

  ***

  It was past two o’clock when she woke up with an empty stomach. She went to the kitchen, took some food from the fridge, and fixed herself a meal: plain rice, prawns with sweet and sour sauce, and soup with greens and a shredded egg. She ate, but it tasted like nothing. All she could think about was Limin, and how he
had betrayed her. After the meal, she picked up a small hammer and threw it into her handbag. She went to her car and drove to Limin’s apartment. She made sure to park about a block away.

  It was a pleasant afternoon and many people were out strolling along the riverbank. Jiang felt as though she were floating through the quiet streets as she walked toward a gracious older house that had been turned into several different units. Upon arriving, she climbed up the exposed stairs, clutching her handbag. She reached the second-floor balcony and knocked on the door. Nobody answered, just as she expected. She reached into her handbag and drew out the hammer, then slammed it against the window next to the door. The glass fell with a crash, and then the door of Limin’s apartment opened. She stepped in and screamed, “I’m here for you to call the police!” she shouted, wildly brandishing her hammer, then flinging it at the television screen when she saw Limin’s face cringe. Without saying a word, Limin dialled for the police.

  Jiang fell into the armchair and cried like a baby. A few minutes later, a police car stopped at the building. Two officers came to take her away.

  ***

  Sleeplessness caused Jiang’s memory to constantly shift into the past, back to her life in China. She worked at the Provincial Institute of Science and Technology after graduating from the university. She expected to meet her Mister Right, but there were only two young men at the institute who would give her the time of day. And yet, when she would talk to either man, he either indicated he did not have the time to speak or he said he had a meeting to attend. Her female colleagues introduced her to a couple of men, but they never showed interest in her, probably because of her lame leg she thought.

  Once, at work, she discovered some flaws in a building plan submitted by a factory and helped correct them. Afterwards, she received a phone call from the designer who wanted to speak to the person who had improved his design. When Jiang had said, “Speaking,” the man she had been speaking to was suddenly silent. “I did that work,” she repeated. “I’m Jiang Liu. Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I thought,” he stammered. “I … I didn’t expect a woman, a young woman.” She could sense his smirk over the phone line. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  “Do you think a young woman cannot read the building plan?” Jiang teased.

  “No, no. I mean I’m very glad to know you. Thanks for your help. Do you mind if I call you and ask for your help again? By the way, I’m Wenlong.”

  After that Wenlong had called more often. Sometimes they chatted on the phone about other things besides business. They discovered they were both single and they both enjoyed talking to each other. One day, deliberately, Jiang mentioned the story of Zhang Haidi, whom she had read about earlier that year. It was a story about a girl who had become confined to a wheelchair, but who had struggled to achieve all her goals, despite the obstacles she had had to face because of her disability. She was delighted when Wenlong told her he admired Zhang Haidi very much. So when Wenlong suggested they finally meet in person, Jiang accepted.

  They arranged to meet in a restaurant downtown. Jiang arrived feeling somewhat apprehensive. She chose a cozy table in a dimly lit corner. Wenlong entered the restaurant shortly after work, carrying a beautiful pink rose in his hand. When he handed her the rose Jiang felt her face flush hot, an irrepressible smile on her lips.

  They ate and chatted amicably about all kinds of things. Her heart was full, and happy. I finally found a man who cares about me! How lucky I am!

  It was only after their meal, as they left the restaurant, that Wenlong noticed her limp. “I’m very sorry,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

  “What are you sorry about?” Jiang asked, trying to understand what seemed to trouble him.

  “I didn’t know –,” Wenlong said as he escorted her to the bus stop. His eyes looked confused.

  “About my leg?” she asked. Now Jiang was confused. “But, you said you admired Zhang Haidi. I didn’t think my leg would be an issue,” Jiang added, eyes downcast.

  “Sorry,” was Wenlong’s only parting word as he hurriedly walked away from the stop, leaving her alone to wait for the bus.

  Eventually, almost all of her female friends either had boyfriends or were married. She was alone and had more time than them. She began to bury herself in studies, in preparation for the English language test she had to take as part of her admission into a North American university. She passed and was finally accepted into a graduate program.

  Before leaving for Kingston, Canada, she returned to her hometown of Wuhan City to visit her mother. Her mother had lived a lonely life since her father’s death. Jiang was finally able to forgive her mother for what she had done to her father, recognizing that in those years, most of the people had been brainwashed and fooled by Mao’s revolution. Her mother had not wanted to remarry though she had had many suitors. She told Jiang she had paid the price for her stupidity, adding, “If you find a suitable man, don’t lose him.”

  Jiang mulled over what her mother had said before she left China. She had thought Limin was a suitable man. Now all she wanted was revenge; she wanted to pour out all her hot anger. She did not realize that in Canada, women had more choices. A woman could remain single and be happy. A woman could adopt a child or live with another woman to form her family. This was not real for Jiang. All Jiang could feel was her shame and humiliation. She was bitterly aware that Limin had used her. He had taken her virginity from her without ever intending to marry her. He had led her to believe he cared for her, despite her lame leg. She thought she had found in Canada what she had been denied in China. He had made a fool of her, and now he was using the law in Canada to dispose of her. He had taken her honour, and her dignity. It was unforgivable and intolerable. The shame and pain she felt was as intense as when her father had taken his life, abandoning her to a mother that had done the unthinkable and with whom she would never feel safe again.

  ***

  When it was time for her to go to court, Jiang appeared at the hearing looking haggard and defeated. Standing still, she stared blindly at the audience in front of her and admitted she had been harassing Limin.

  At last the judge announced, “Jiang Liu is convicted of the charge of repeated harassment. You are hereby sentenced to serve 90 days in jail and are fined $1,000. Because you have no criminal record, you are to be placed on probation for one year.” The judge made a final warning: “You must stay away from Mr. Limin Ding. A breach of this court order will result in a jail sentence.”

  Home from court, inflamed with anger and shame, Jiang kicked off her shoes, sat on the bed and punched her pillow. She had never expected she would land up in court. The phrase “jail sentence” haunted her. So afraid of life in jail, her father had killed himself years before. She was only seven when he died. She pictured a corpse floating in the dirty water of the city moat, its swollen face half-covered by grass and fallen leaves. The body was identified as her father’s. The “anti-revolutionary” had destroyed himself before others could.

  She wept bitterly. She imagined Limin and his wife holding wine glasses to celebrate their reunion. He would lie to her and tell her that he loved her. He thinks he’s a lady-killer. But he is nothing more than a cheater who plays with women. Jiang determined that she would let his wife know he had been unfaithful. Suddenly, she got up and pulled open her drawers and closet to collect all the gifts she had received from Limin: a pair of earrings, two dresses, and a model of a Victorian-style building. After she had stuffed all of the items into her tote bag, she clenched her fist tightly. She imagined throwing all of his gifts in his face, and could almost feel her pain being released.

  She knew doing this meant jail. But it didn’t matter. Revenge fully occupied her mind. She wanted Limin to know what humiliation and shame was like. Jiang did not understand why it was she who was being punished. He was the one who should suffer.

  She picked
up her tote bag and hurried to her car. She got behind the wheel, pressed her foot on the gas and rushed away.

  Once more, she banged on Limin’s door, and once again, he had to open the door. She flung her tote bag at him but Limin dodged, and the bag thudded against the floor. Its contents spilled out onto the tiles, the model house splitting in two. Jiang looked around and did not see anybody else in the apartment. She ran over to the tote bag, knelt down, and started pulling out clothes and jewellery to hurl at Limin.

  He stepped back and picked up the telephone receiver as a dress landed on his shoulder and an earring clung to his hair. Limin rushed into the bathroom and locked himself in. His concentration was so focused on pressing the buttons on the phone that he did not even hear what she was shouting. The anger she felt inside overwhelmed her and poured out of her as she crashed about in the kitchen. After dialling, he sat on the floor and listened to her walking between the kitchen and his bedroom. Jiang was repeatedly filling a container with water and pouring it on the bed. She did this over and over again until Limin’s double bed was flooded. Then she fell to the floor.

  Ten minutes later, Limin heard sirens approaching the building. At a policeman’s request, he opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony, almost tripping on the scattered items she had thrown on the floor.

  The police arrested Jiang for a second time.

  ***

  She was placed into a local jail for women. It was a one-storey building that looked like a motel, with a front lawn and garden surrounded by tall fir trees. It looked quite different from the provincial prison near her university campus in Nanjing. That prison had high walls and electric barbed wire. Its gate adjoined a post, where an armed soldier stood with a rifle. But here with the sun shining, and birds chirping, she did not find the place as terrifying. If only she could stop thinking, “jail.” If only she were not handcuffed.