by Black Inc.
My husband likes to think of me as coming from the middle of nowhere. He often mixes up my hometown with Inner Mongolia and he once believed I rode a camel to school.
I go back to China less often now. After each trip, I would be depressed for some weeks. I read Chinese books, browsed Chinese websites, listened to rock music from the pirate Chinese CDs, and talked to my friends in China on Skype. My husband asked why I did not listen to the equivalent rock music in English. I said rock is about anger and there is nothing to be angry about in his society. When probed further, I said I cannot explain because it is a Chinese affair. He was satisfied with my response; it confirmed me as his inscrutable oriental muse.
Going out with me is not without challenges for him. We walk on the street, and people look at us, older men with envy, older women with contempt, Chinese women with curiosity, and Chinese men with disgust. Those that are English-speaking talk to me in simple sentences. Those that are Chinese-speaking pretend to whisper knowing that I can hear and I understand. The funniest is when we see other mixed couples, mostly older white men with younger Chinese women, and we look into each other critically as if we are looking at ourselves in the mirror.
My husband took me on holiday one day. When we came back, we went to his house and it was repainted in crimson. A local landmark, it used to be called the white house. It is now called the red house. I accepted his proposal for marriage and the fact that he had a snip done years ago. I told my mother I am married to an older husband, just like Jane Eyre to Rochester, and we do not plan to have children.
*
I tell my mother many things, but I do not tell her everything. I do not tell my mother that I dream of her and the dreams are my worst nightmares. I dream of her being sick, being hurt, losing her way home, or falling. Even her smiles make me worry.
My mother is losing her memory. She hardly speaks and if she does it would be questions about the children or remembrance of the distant past. She walks very slowly and has great difficulty climbing up to their apartment. On winter afternoons, she often sits on the sofa in front of the television, and if asked, she says she is waiting for the weather forecast. She looks like a chubby child wrapped up in too many layers of clothing.
I have not written to my mother lately. I have not told her that I am nearly three months pregnant.
My mother once told me she was very hungry when she was pregnant with me. The only treat she had was three hardboiled eggs a day. She could not endure the intervals between peeling the eggs, so she always peeled them all before eating them in one go. She said she longed for fried rice during those days.
I have been hungry too, sometimes feeling a surge of hunger in the middle of a meal, and I have to start afresh. I often feel like a wolf wandering in the winter forest, tormented and isolated by my hunger. I feel like smashing the table when food is late and kissing the waiter or waitress when my food is carried down the aisle. When other people’s food arrives ahead of mine, I regret every order I have not made. During the day, I give up my usual Vietnamese roll or sushi and go straight to chicken kebab. At home, my husband is delighted to see his hearty stew suddenly in demand. I pity the North Koreans – no one should suffer from hunger like that.
Sometimes I feel I am being eaten from the inside. Other times I feel like a ripe fruit, about to burst into something pulpy.
My nose seems sharper than usual. I walk by men on the street, and I account in my mind: beer; cigarette; Indian curry; onion; perspiration. What I consider natural smells are still better than some deodorants that smell like blunt knives, and some perfumes that hit me like broken glass.
I search the internet for articles and images. I know which day the egg was fertilised. It should have turned into a foetus this week with its sex apparent. I try to imagine a world where sound is muted. The blood flow the spring creek, the heartbeat the distant thunder, a rub on the tummy the autumn branches swaying in the wind.
I find myself talking to her, apologising for any stress I have put on her. I have become careful. As the bearer of a secret, I avoid stepping on manholes or walking under roof edges, I wait patiently for the lights to turn green at pedestrian crossings, and I move away discreetly from people who sneeze or cough. At home I keep away from the microwave oven when heating up soy milk and I wash my hands excessively.
I have put on weight, particularly around my mid-section. I have outgrown my pants and since the weather is warm, I wear skirts and dresses. Loose long tops with ruffles in front are the most deceiving. My body temperature is higher and I feel like a mini steamboat. My hands are warm and my forehead feverish. My husband says the extra weight I have put on suits me.
*
My husband is an experienced gardener but the only thing I can help with is the weeding. He mows the lawn, trims the rosemary hedge, applies fertiliser for the gardenia and cuts back roses, while I squat picking weeds from the garden beds or between the pavements and the gravel.
Every Saturday morning, when we are working in the garden, I wait to find the perfect moment. This is the time when I most want to tell, to confess, to unburden and expose. The calming new green, the fragrance of the spring flowers, the primitive labour, make me feel innocent. Sometimes I feel so tense that I almost cannot breathe. I have prepared a whole speech, but still I wait behind the curtain for the lights to dim and the spotlight to turn on. The audience will stop their polite conversations and turn their heads to the stage. Then I will go up, ready to be executed.
I did approach my husband once while he was cutting back the citrus trees. He was in his shorts and T-shirt, his knees and elbows looked dry, he was panting from manoeuvring the heavy-duty scissors. I asked him to follow me and sit in front of the lattice screen with star jasmines. The flowers had not opened but already the perfume was leaking from the rosy pink buds. I was in a green floral dress, a pair of sandals, my feet crossed at the ankles, my hands held together on my lap. I focused my eyes on the pavement, where a group of ants were carrying a dead bee. Just as I was about to start, he took my hand and held it between his palms. He said he had not been able to squat for a long time and luckily I could and it was very nice of me to do the weeding. Maybe we could use a gardener so we did not have to do everything ourselves. Then we would have more time to smell the roses.
*
The night air is damp and heavy, the moon has gone behind the cloud. The wind chime makes a timid sound, as if it too is afraid of breaking the silence.
I open the bedroom door as loudly as I can and switch on the light.
My husband raises his upper body on one elbow and squints under the sudden brightness. What is left of his hair is sticking up. His face is more wrinkled than usual, red from pressing on the pillow.
‘I have something to tell you.’
‘Come back to bed. You’ll catch a cold. And turn off that light.’
I turn off the light and lie down. He reaches out his right arm under my neck and holds me from behind.
‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow,’ he says. His left hand is on my belly.
ONE OF THE GIRLS
GILLIAN ESSEX
My bed’s covered with clothes and I’m still not sure what to wear because it was only yesterday she rang and first I thought I hadn’t heard it right that she wanted me to have lunch and listen to a band with her so then I had to rearrange things and I didn’t even think about what to wear but I don’t want to embarrass her though now it’s too late so I settle for the skirt because at least it’s black and I don’t look so fat in it and then the doorbell rings and it’s Emma and I haven’t even put make-up on but I ask her if I look okay and she says fine without really looking then on the way I don’t know what to say because it’s been a while and she looks at the road because she’s driving so I just gaze out the window then she asks me where I want to eat but I don’t know so she picks somewhere and orders but I pay for it and then I eat most of hers as well as mine because all she’s done is play with it just like when she was
little and she gives me that look and it makes me try to hold my stomach in when we walk into the pub and she introduces me to the band and they’re all flat-bellied skinny girls and I think about how bands always used to be boys except maybe the singer but I call out hello to the girls then one of them comes right over and shakes my hand then Emma leads me over to a battered leather couch facing where the band is setting up and she tells me that this’ll be comfortable for me as if I’m old or something but I think the stools off to the side might be better though I sit on the couch anyway and try to pull my skirt over my knees and think about how it would have been better if I’d worn jeans like everyone else here and I hope the band won’t be too loud then she asks me if I want a drink and I do really but I tell her no because I’m off alcohol now and then I think I should have asked for a lemon lime and bitters but I don’t even know if pubs do that anymore and she says she needs a drink so she goes to the bar and I think she’ll come back but she perches on a stool and doesn’t look my way again and I wonder if it’d be okay to get up and join her but it looks like she’s chatting up the barman and at first I think she could do better than that but then I think it’s a start and anyway maybe she’s just relieved there’s someone else to talk to besides me so I stay on the couch and wonder how long it’s been since I’ve been in a bar and if all pubs are like this these days with fake wood panelling and mirrors and stainless steel fittings and metal furniture apart from the couch and hardly anyone here to listen to the band but it’s only three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon and it’s sunny outside and perhaps when they start to play people will come through the large doors that open onto the street and I suppose that’s what the band’s for but it looks like they’re being paid in drinks instead of money by the way they’re knocking back red wine in beer glasses and I wonder if they’ll even be able to play and then in walks this woman and I think she’s one of the girls because she’s thin and she’s wearing faded and ripped jeans and a T-shirt with writing on it and her hair’s got different colours in it the way they do it these days only mine’s the same colour it always was except my roots are showing and she greets the girls in the band like they’re all mates and hugs Emma but then she comes over to the couch and she says this must be the mothers’ couch only I think she’s said ‘the mother’s couch’ but then she sits beside me and from close-up I see she’s got wrinkles but they’re covered in make-up and she looks fantastic and I wish I’d put mine on and she says you must be Emma’s mother but I just nod and wait for her to go away because I’m hoping that Emma will come back and then she tells me she’s Sophie’s mother and I don’t even know which one Sophie is because I didn’t catch their names but Sophie’s mother points out the girl who’s adjusting the mike and it’s the one who shook my hand and she tells me that Sophie’s the lead singer and I think that’d be right and I look at Emma and think she must be just the groupie if that’s what they still call them and then Sophie’s mother tells me that Sophie’s studying law but I didn’t know you could be a lawyer with a ring through your nose and she says she didn’t really want her to be a lawyer and I think why not and then she tells me that she supposes Sophie chose law because she’s always been surrounded by lawyers and I guess if Sophie’s parents are lawyers then that’s how come Sophie’s mother can afford to look so good and then she says she’s worried about whether Sophie will have enough time to study with all the band practice she’s doing but she tells me Sophie’s just won a medal at the uni so I guess Sophie does all right and I just think about how Sophie’s mother hugged Emma like it was the most natural thing in the world and Emma didn’t even flinch or not that I could see and then Sophie’s mother tells me Sophie’s going off to work in an orphanage in Cambodia as soon as she’s finished her degree and then she wants to work in human rights and I think oh God she’s going to save the world as well and I wonder if Emma would have turned out better if I’d managed to stay with her father because then she wouldn’t have been so angry and we would have had more money not that she’s turned out badly it’s just she hasn’t worked out what to do with her life yet and she’s never even had a boyfriend or not that I know of but I haven’t been much of a role model there and I wonder if it’s because of me but then Sophie’s mother says she doesn’t want Sophie to go overseas and I think why wouldn’t you because I would have liked to and I think it would be great if Emma got to go like for me and then suddenly the band cranks up and Sophie’s voice sounds like she’s channelling Janis Joplin and yet she’s so tiny and she plays the guitar as well and now the girls are singing songs they wrote themselves about women taking control of their lives and I don’t know where they could have got that stuff from being so young and Sophie’s mother’s sitting there and she’s mouthing the words like she knows all the songs by heart and she says she goes to all their gigs as if it wasn’t obvious and I think Emma must too because Sophie’s mother talks about Emma like she knows her really well and I didn’t even meet Sophie until today and all the time Sophie’s mother’s been talking I haven’t said a word but I suppose I’d better say something so I say you must be very proud of your daughter and I ask her if Sophie got her talent from her and she says God no so I say from your husband then and she laughs in a brittle kind of way and tells me that she hasn’t got a husband and then I say are you a lawyer and she laughs again only this time it’s more like a sob and she tells me she just works for a law firm that’s all well actually she just files and cleans up a bit and makes them coffee but all the lawyers look out for Sophie and I wonder how Emma might have turned out if people like that were looking out for her or even if I’d just encouraged her more but there was always work and bills to pay though I suppose that’s just an excuse really because I wanted to try and have a life before it was too late but then almost before I noticed she’d grown up and then she was gone and if I’d known it was going to be so quick I would have waited and we could have had more of a life together and perhaps if I’d taken her to music lessons she’d be on the stage like Sophie and I’d be the stage mother and now Sophie’s mother is talking about how she and Sophie are close like sisters and I wonder what that would feel like and I ask how old Sophie was when her father left but she says there never was a father and then she starts to cry and she says that she was married once but she lost the baby then her husband left her and had babies with someone else and she was so upset she persuaded a friend to help her have one too but he wasn’t too keen at first because he was worried about the legal stuff so she got a lawyer to draw up some papers and the lawyer took pity on her and he was the one who gave her a job because she didn’t have one and wasn’t qualified to be anything except a mother and now all the lawyers in the practice are good to Sophie but you know how lawyers are she says only I don’t and I think that was some friendship she had but then she says she used a turkey baster to get herself pregnant and I didn’t think people really did that but Sophie doesn’t know because that was part of the deal and I think that anyone who tried that hard deserves to have a daughter like Sophie even if it is a bit weird so I put my arms around Sophie’s mother because she’s still crying and I tell her she must have been a good mother because Sophie’s so clever and she cares about people but then Sophie’s mother says she’s really scared because she doesn’t know what she’ll do when Sophie goes overseas and what if the band becomes successful and goes on tour and she can’t go with them and then she tells me she’s on anti-depressants and the doctor keeps putting up the dose but it’s still not working and she supposes that’s why she’s crying and she does it all the time and then I notice that Sophie and Emma are staring at us and I see the pub’s filled up with people so I move my arms but I keep holding Sophie’s mother’s hand between us on the couch and I give her a tissue to wipe the mascara streaks off her face and then Sophie comes to the microphone and welcomes a new band member to the stage and it’s Emma and she goes to the microphone and starts to sing and it’s just backing vocals but I’m so proud and I have to let go of
Sophie’s mother’s hand so I can clap but not too loudly and then Sophie’s mother stops crying and says I didn’t know Emma could sing and then I start to like her better so I tell her that it’s time she started thinking about herself and that there’s lots of things she can do now that Sophie doesn’t need her so much but when I say this she looks kind of panicked and I think she must be scared of being alone and perhaps I should tell her that it’s not so bad when you get used to it but then the band’s packing up and Emma comes over and asks me what I think and I tell her the band was great and she was fantastic and I would have said more if I could have thought of better words but there’s a look on her face like what I said’s enough and then later in the car Emma thanks me for coming and she says it was good that I could keep Sophie’s mother out of their hair because Sophie thinks her mother’s embarrassing and she wishes she wouldn’t come to the gigs but they noticed that I seemed to be getting on all right with her and she asks me what we were talking about but I just say stuff because I know that’s what Emma would say and I don’t think she really wants to know and then she tells me that the guy at the bar owns the pub and he encouraged her to sing otherwise she would’ve chickened out and that’s why she had to have a drink because he told her it would help and that she should pretend I wasn’t there until after she’d sung and then I start to think differently about him too but by the time she’s said all this we’re back at my place and I ask her in and she hesitates then shakes her head but then just as I’m getting out of the car she gets out too and she tells me how glad she is that I came to hear her first gig and she says she hopes I like Sophie because she and Sophie are an item but they can’t tell Sophie’s mother because she’ll freak and she tells me she’s going to Cambodia with Sophie and all the while she’s looking at my face and I try to keep it the same but I tell her that I think I like Sophie a lot and going to Cambodia with her is a good idea and then she walks right round the car and gives me a hug and tells me I look great and she likes my skirt and she thanks me for lunch and says that maybe next time Sophie can come too and I say of course she can and then with a wave she’s gone and I go into the bedroom and pick up the pile of clothes on the bed and carefully hang them in the wardrobe and then I catch sight of myself in the mirror and there’s this little smile on my face and I sashay into the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea.