by Ed Lin
“That girl was mean to me. What’s her name?”
“She wants to be called ‘Xiaomei,’ and she’s really sweet. She’s only mean sometimes to defend herself.”
Xiaomei literally means “little sister.” It’s a nickname for little girls, but some unfortunate women have it as a given name.
“Dwayne says she’s aboriginal. Is she?”
“Maybe he’s right. I didn’t ask her. I don’t think someone calling herself ‘Xiaomei’ is going to give me an honest answer, anyway.” I held her closer. A shocked look came over her face, and then a knowing smile. “You’re really awake now, huh?”
JULIA AND I WERE riding in the back of the pickup truck. The road was bumpy, and we were holding hands. Then we were lying on a beach, watching the sun rise over our toes.
“Is this what you thought our lives would be like?” I asked her.
“I didn’t know we would live so close to a beach. It’s perfect.”
“I don’t miss Taiwan at all,” I said.
She laughed. “Well, I don’t either, because we’re still here!”
“This is Taiwan?”
“Where else would we be?”
“We were going to make it big in America! What happened to that?”
“Those were the dreams of children, and they were beautiful. But not realistic.”
The sun was now high overhead.
“What’s wrong with wanting to make it in the US?” I whispered.
“Nothing’s wrong with that. That was what you chose to believe in.”
“You believed in it, too.”
“I did. With all my heart. But you and I made a big mistake.”
“What?”
“We had no right to put down other peoples’ beliefs. If people want to go to temples or tang-kis for comfort or consolation, it’s none of our business. We didn’t have to call them stupid or backward.”
“But there are no such things as gods!” I blurted out.
“Maybe for you there aren’t.”
The sun was now setting behind our backs.
“You know now whether they exist, don’t you, Julia?”
She smiled and tilted her head away from me. I had forgotten that she used to do that when she was reluctant to say something.
“It’s not for me to tell you, Jing-nan. In any case, only you and I are here right now.”
“I should have called you. I should have written to you.” She reached out to me and touched my nose.
“I was disappointed that you didn’t, especially after your parents passed away. Then I realized that it was your love for me that held you back.”
“It was my pride, really, that I wouldn’t break a promise.”
“It was a promise that you made to me, Jing-nan. Don’t you see?”
The only light now was from the moon and its reflection on the water.
“How about we build a fire?” she asked. We dug a pit and threw in a pile of driftwood. Julia gathered her hands together to light the tip of a branch. Soon, the fire was alive and biting the air hungrily like a chained dog.
“All the elements are here,” I said. “Earth, wind, fire and water.”
“Where’s metal?”
“My belt buckle.” I checked it. “Yeah, it’s here.”
“We have both light and darkness, too.”
I nodded and shifted in the sand. “What’s going to happen now, Julia?”
“I have a letter for you.”
“A letter?”
“A goodbye letter, Jing-nan.” Her hands seemed to be empty.
I sighed and pulled my legs up. “Well, let’s have it, then.”
“You have to do something for me first. Burn my diploma at Longshan Temple.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to have it.” She stood up.
“If I burn the diploma for you, you’ll give me a letter?”
“Yes.”
The fire grew hotter. I could feel the flames reaching out for my face.
I sensed that she was walking away.
“Wait,” I said.
I woke up with the late-morning sun in my eyes and the dream vividly etched on my mind.
I KISSED THE STILL-SLEEPING Nancy on her forehead. Her eyes shot open.
“I had a dream!” she soft-screamed through her yawning mouth. “I saw Julia!”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t remember, but she was smiling.”
“I had a dream about her, too.”
“What happened?”
“She asked me to burn her diploma at Longshan Temple, because she wanted to have it. I, uh, took it out of the box. Must be my conscience getting at me.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“Yes. I’m going to do it right now. You stay here and rest, Nancy.” I kissed her again. I washed my face quickly and then brushed my teeth. If I left soon enough, I could get there around the time of day my parents used to take me.
WE WERE BOTH NONBELIEVERS, but Julia and I disagreed about temples in general and Longshan Temple in particular. She liked Longshan and enjoyed going.
Our two families went to temple together for the big holidays, Lunar New Year and the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, when the crowds were insane and the temple set up extra decorations and displays in the outer courtyard in an apparent effort to further congest foot traffic.
Sometimes Julia went to Longshan on a whim, merely to see the architecture and contemplate the history, she said. It made her happy to be there, so that was reason enough for me to accompany her several times.
Both Chinese and Taiwanese enjoy the sight of water cascading down rocks, so the temple obliges with waterfalls in the outer courtyard. Approaching the front gate can be intimidating, as you see the multi-tiered roofs and mystical animals leering down from the corners. As a little kid, I would nearly piss my pants as we headed to the entrance. My father told me that I had nothing to fear as long as I was “righteous.” When I was older, I knew that the only thing I had to fear were the temple hucksters inside.
As soon as you entered the dragon gate on the right side, the sham began. Counters lining the entire south wall of the temple sold joss sticks, prayer pamphlets and fruits and vegetarian snacks meant to be left at an altar for the gods to eat.
When Americans think of a temple, they probably think about an enclosed area, a building with a roof. Longshan, however, is essentially a large, walled courtyard with a Buddhist main hall featuring Guanyin, the goddess of mercy, in the center and a Taoist hall featuring Mazu, the goddess of the sea, along the north side. The two main deities are both women. The niches along the surrounding walls are altars for lesser gods and folk gods, the divine bench warmers. Everything is so ornate that you’d have a hard time finding an inch of wood, metal or stone that isn’t carved, gilded or both.
The open-air design allowed for all the burning incense to waft heavenward to the nostrils of the gods and to pollute Taipei’s skies. It used to be worse. Longshan once had open-flame braziers set up for worshippers to burn bamboo-paper notes, but they were scrapped when the Environmental Protection Administration started cracking down in the 2000s. Yet even the EPA knew they couldn’t stop incense-burning at temples. It would be like prohibiting bakeries from smelling like fresh bread. Besides, temples made way too much money selling joss sticks. People also bought temple charms to wave around in the incense smoke, to make them more effective when worn.
When I went with Julia to Longshan, I spent a lot of time rolling my eyes and contemplating the sky, pointedly ignoring the idols.
“Jing-nan, that’s disrespectful,” Julia chided me once.
“I don’t have to respect fake gods,” I replied.
“I know the gods aren’t real and they don’t feel anything. But you have to admire the craftsmanship that went into this place. It’s almost four hundred years old. Think of all the people who have been through here, nursing their hopes and desires.”
“This isn’t t
he original temple, Julia. This is like the third or fourth one on this site.”
She punched me in response. “You can’t deny that this temple is an admirable achievement by the Taiwanese people.”
Followers of Guanyin began to chant loudly and off tempo in the courtyard before the main hall.
“When I come here, I can’t help but think, what if all the effort, time and money were put into building something really useful? Do you know how many more MRT stops could have been built?”
“This is a nice place to come to. The MRT isn’t.”
“Well, if you like it so much, then let’s go join in the chanting.” I grabbed her arm.
“I don’t want to!”
We both laughed out loud as we had a little tug-of-war. Julia wasn’t as strong as me, but she was shorter and had a lower center of gravity that worked in her favor. Her little hands had a tighter grip, too. At some point our bodies collided and we were suddenly holding each other.
She then fought to get out of my arms. I held on to her playfully.
An older man confronted us.
“You two kids are being very disrespectful! You should come and beg forgiveness from the goddess of mercy, or go to a love hotel!”
We went to the love hotel. It was our first time, and we didn’t really do anything. We were only seventeen. I was sure, though, that going from a temple to a love hotel was a well-worn path.
ENTERING THE TEMPLE NOW, eight years later, I caught a whiff of that mildew smell that comes from improperly dried clothes. I never noticed it at the night market, where the frying smells could cover any odor less potent than a pulp mill. If I rode the MRT, I would definitely notice the smells of the seventh lunar month.
Almost everybody in Taipei usually dried their clothes on an outdoor rack or line, but nobody left their clothes out during Ghost Month. Ghosts could slip into your clothes and then possess your body when you dressed. People resorted to washing their clothes in a tub, hand-wringing them and then draping them in several wet layers across their furniture. The clothes ended up smelling as moldy as the dead.
I tried to focus on the smell of the incense and followed it to the rear hall.
I approached the large metal column before Mazu. I figured that since my dream took place on a beach, it was probably best to let Julia’s diploma burn before the goddess who presided over the sea.
I removed the diploma from my wallet and unfolded it. It seemed smaller than I remembered. I drew closer to a large incense brazier, holding the diploma respectfully horizontal with both hands.
The brazier was about twelve feet tall, the bottom half filled with sand with hundreds of joss sticks stuck in it. Four minor gods held a large gold ingot in each hand as a handle to hoist up the top half, which looked like a big brass pith helmet. There was plenty of room to reach in and plant your joss stick or wave a charm through the incense smoke for good luck. The heat coming off was enough to burn paper.
I pulled the diploma taut and waved it over the hot white ash of the tips of the incense sticks. When the paper burst into flame, I would drop it.
Something miraculous began to take place.
Tiny brown squiggles began to appear on the certificate. They looked like bugs at first. Then they grew to form letters and words.
Someone had written on the diploma using invisible ink!
I waved the entire certificate around and made sure the diploma was heated evenly.
A few hundred words were written neatly in English on the back of the diploma.
I retreated to a meditation room on the side of the temple and sat down to read the hidden message.
Jing-nan, you’re the only one who could be reading this. You should know that I’m probably dead now, even though I left my previous life years ago. I received this diploma by accident—I wasn’t supposed to be issued one. Then I realized that it would make the perfect letterhead for me to write to you. In lemon juice! You would know by the way the paper looked water-damaged! While we were both in Taipei I had to stop myself from seeing you. It would have destroyed us. There was no way you could have found me when you tried to come for me, because I became a contractor for the CIA. They brought me back to Taiwan and let me work on things I believed in, to keep the country secure. Right now I’m focused on stopping people from selling technology to China and also military defections to China. My assignments could change later. I’m not sure you would understand, but I’m happy with what I’m doing. When I arrived in the US, I realized that I missed Taiwan. I wanted to go back immediately. I never felt at peace in America. Maybe you’re living there now. I hope you’re sixty years old and that you’re reading this in your wonderful home and that you’ve had a beautiful life with a woman who loves you and two amazing kids.
Her penmanship broke down into blobs—probably because the toothpick was wearing away—as she ended with, “I will love you forever.”
I folded up the diploma and put it back in my wallet. So this was Julia’s secret message to me. Funny. I didn’t love America when I was there, either, but I was willing to stick it out for her.
I also wanted her to be happy, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to make her sad her whole life so that I could live out my stupid promise. She must have felt bad coming back to Taiwan, even though her father told her it was the right thing to do.
My mouth felt filmy. How could I forgive myself for putting that burden on Julia?
I got my answer by looking up. There, an idol of Guanyin, the goddess of mercy, looked down upon me. Guanyin, whose statue I had turned away from in the park when I first heard about Julia’s murder. Tears streamed down my face and leaked into my trembling mouth.
Even if the goddess wasn’t real, even if it was just an idol, it represented the idea of forgiveness and let viewers reflect upon their lives.
Was it really so wrong to have temples and superstitions if, in the end, they allowed people to find some inner peace in this horrible world?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I left the temple and stood out front by one of the waterfalls. I called Nancy.
“Hey,” I said. “I found Julia’s hidden message. It was on her diploma!”
“What does it say?” I could hear crowds of people around her.
“Basically that she didn’t really like the US and she missed Taiwan.” I put one foot up on a stone fence. “She knew she wasn’t going to see me again.”
“Did she say she loved you?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” I heard the sounds of crinkling bags.
“Nancy, what are you doing?”
“I’ve just bought some more shoes. The ones I wore last night hurt a little bit.”
“Hey, wait, you don’t have to go back to the binlang stand. It’s over.”
I heard her groan. “But why? I kind of got a charge out of it. It was empowering to try out my sex appeal. Besides, I already moved a research lab day to go again tonight.”
The first night had gone without a hitch. Why shouldn’t the second?
“Are you sure you want to go? There’s no reason to, now.”
“Of course I want to go! Besides, you never know what else the lamei knows. I could push and try to find out tonight.”
“This is the second and last time, though,” I said. “We’re pulling the plug after tonight.”
“Ohhh kayyy,” she said. Nancy was thoroughly disappointed. I hoped she wouldn’t be all mopey after tonight.
When I got to the night market, I saw that Dwayne was keen on seeing Xiaomei again. We had planned on dropping in at the binlang stand again to see how things were going on Nancy’s second night, but someone was more prepared than I was.
“Hey,” I asked Dwayne, “what did you do to your face?” His upper lip was clean, and his stubble was neatly configured into a perfectly straight line on either side of his chin. It made him look a little devilish.
“I broke out a facial-hair trimmer and did some sculpting.” He pointed at his face with bot
h index fingers. “You like it?”
“It doesn’t look like you, Dwayne.”
“You look smarter,” offered Frankie the Cat.
Dwayne winced. “Tell me I look younger.”
“All right, you look younger.”
I said, “You look more civilized. Less aboriginal.”
“You little …” He raised his hands and started at me. I dodged to the left. Dwayne stopped and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re lucky I don’t want to wrinkle this shirt. Or get blood on it.” I chuckled, and Dwayne caught me off guard. He grabbed my left wrist and forced my face up to his mouth.
“Look up here,” he said cheerfully and flared his nostrils. “The kit included accessories to trim my nose hairs.”
“God, get away from me!”
He let me break out of his grip too easily. He really was worried about his clothes looking good. So worried that he ripped holes in a garbage bag and wore it over his shirt to keep the grill smell off. “You’re going to sweat so badly in that thing,” I told him.
He laughed as he tossed charcoal under the main grill with gloved hands. “So what? Girls like sweat. It causes a chemical reaction in their brains when they smell it.” I shook my head. “What do you know? You’re not a man of the world.”
I put my hands in my pockets and walked to the front grill. The inside counter was now between me and Dwayne. “I wanted to tell Nancy to call tonight off,” I said. “She’s getting her kicks out of it, so she’s doing it just one more time.”
“What!” said Dwayne as he shucked off his gloves. “After I went through all this trouble to look good!”
“I already know enough about Julia to realize it’s all in the past. It’s not that she doesn’t matter to me anymore, but it’s over.” I looked up at the sky. “My future is with Nancy.” I noticed Frankie smiling and nodding.
Dwayne washed up and began skewering meats. I was surprised by the hurt look on his face. “What about my future with Xiaomei, Jing-nan?” asked Dwayne. “Isn’t that important? She could be the one.”