The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1)

by Cole Reid

  The next three weeks Xiaofeng was missing; her body was present but it seemed like a puppet, with predetermined motions. Her mind was trapped inside the question whether her brother could forgive her if she left him. She had already given her answer to Professor Yi. She would go to Beijing. She knew the decision to leave would crush her brother’s eight year-old heart. What she didn’t know was if an eight year-old’s crushed heart could forgive and reinflate. She realized there was no point in thinking about it any longer; it was a question for an eight year-old with a crushed heart. And she didn’t know anyone like that—at least—not yet.

  Xiaoyu hadn’t slept well, but was about to when his sister woke him up.

  “What time is it?” asked Xiaoyu.

  “It’s about 4:00 in the morning,” said Xiaofeng.

  “Why are you up?” asked Xiaoyu.

  “I’m going somewhere,” said Xiaofeng.

  “Where are you going?” asked Xiaoyu.

  “To Beijing,” said Xiaofeng, “Do you want to come with me?” The boy nodded, while rubbing his dry eyes that desperately wanted to close.

  “Then go take your shower,” said Xiaofeng.

  The boy didn’t say anything or think anything. He proceeded to the bathroom to shower as instructed. Xiaofeng had planned the moment carefully. The light in their room stayed off, so the boy wouldn’t notice the full luggage in the living room, which was also dark. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light of the bathroom, when he turned the light on. He proceeded to undress and drew hot water from the shower head. The boy didn’t wonder why his sister was up so early or why she was taking him to Beijing. He didn’t even wonder why she had never mentioned going to Beijing before. The boy washed himself, trusting the only person he knew how to trust. He knew everything would be explained in time. There was lather and foam on his head, in his ears and over his eyes, but he thought he heard something strange. He turned his head sideways to let water rush into his left ear before whipping his neck to turn his left ear down, so the water would drain out of his ear, taking the soap foam with it. He did the same thing with his right ear. With the soap foam removed from his ears, his confidence in making out sounds was renewed. He thought he heard some more sounds that sounded as if they were coming from outside, but he couldn’t think of what they would be at 4:30 in the morning. He washed the suds from his eyes to see. He looked around the bathroom. Nothing seemed strange to him. He had a change of clothes on the washing machine next to the toilet. He couldn’t remember whether he had brought the clothes with him to the bathroom or if his sister had put the clothes there for him to change into. He decided on the latter. Nothing in the bathroom looked unusual to the boy, but it wasn’t what he saw that bothered him; it was what he felt. He felt that something was out of place.

  The questions that he should have asked before became eerily relevant. Why did he have to be up at 4:00 in the morning to go to Beijing? Why wasn’t he going to school? Why didn’t Xiaofeng tell him earlier? He called out to his sister, Jie. There was no answer. He called out to her again, and there was still no answer. He decided that he was clean enough for Beijing and wanted to see if he had truthfully heard noises from outside. He put on his underwear and T-shirt before he heard a familiar noise with an unfamiliar sound. It was a car engine turning on. But he was sure it wasn’t Baba’s car. He had heard the engine of Baba’s Lada Samara enough times to be sure. It was a different car. Xiaoyu thought that maybe a different car would take him and his sister to Beijing. For a second, his heart calmed. He reveled at the thought that Baba wouldn’t be taking them to the train station, but he misunderstood why the engine of the car was already on—he was only half-dressed. He called out to his sister again, Jie. Nothing echoed, not even his own voice. The eerie feeling returned. He dashed out of the bathroom yelling for Jie—his sister. He ran into their bedroom and found it empty. He could still hear the hum of the car’s engine; the only thing he could think of was to follow it. He ran across the living room and braced his left hand on the wall, using his right hand to pull open the heavy door, in one motion. He could see the red rear lights of a maroon looking car sitting in the front yard. The car was crowned with a glowing sign that said TAXI. It blew smoke out of its exhaust pipe. The early morning air hosted multiple sources of light but they disliked each other, refusing to work together. The red lights repelled the white light coming from the open front door and from the taxi sign. The battle between lights made it hard to get a clear picture of anything. Looking across the battlefield of white and red soldiers, Xiaoyu saw what he thought was his sister’s hair, in the passenger seat. His mind told him it couldn’t be, before telling him she couldn’t be anywhere else. The maroon taxi started to roll forward through the already open green gate. In the right rear view mirror, Xiaoyu saw his sister’s face looking back at him. Her face was soaked in pink, a combination of the white and red lights. Her eyes looked big and apologetic, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t turn back and look at him, as the speed of the taxi increased. All he got was the reflection in the mirror.

  Xiaoyu took out after the taxi. Both his speed and the speed of the taxi increased substantially. The taxi was out of the gate and made a left down the flat dirt road. The boy was barefoot and half-dressed but ran hard after the taxi shouting—Jie Jie! The distance between the boy and the taxi began to grow exponentially. He could no longer see his sister’s face in the review mirror but he ran full-speed against the wind. The wind brushed his tears backward. He didn’t know he was crying. He just ran. It would have been impossible to know which ran faster, the boy or his tears, but his speed started to give. His motion became wobbly and his legs began to buckle. His muscles refused to extend him any more credit and froze all his accounts. His thighs began to lock and his arms pained him near his armpits. Extending an arm or a leg became all but impossible and he collapsed in paralysis on the dirt road. The faint roar of the taxi’s engine was still audible in the distant darkness, mocking him. He rolled over on his back feeling sharp stones sting him in random places. He hyperventilated, inhaling some of the dust as it settled back to the ground. His throat felt like a dry pipe that made him cough as he tried to swallow. The coughing forced more tears from his eyes, drying him up completely. He was exhausted and out of breath—dehydrated. He lied on the dirt road until he felt the strength in his limbs return. The tears on his face acted as glue that stuck beige-colored dirt to his face. His eyes were all out of tears; he couldn’t cry anymore. His legs had lost their go. He couldn’t run anymore. He thought about not going back to the house. He thought about running away, but he didn’t have pants or shoes. Plan B had always included pants and shoes. He realized he had no choice but to retreat.

  Xiaoyu walked with his head angled downward, not worrying if another car would come along—it wasn’t likely. Xiaoyu had a sudden thought and it echoed like a call. He didn’t really care if a car came down the road and hit him. He had exhausted himself. There wasn’t enough left in him to care. So much of him was used up, chasing the taxi—crying for his sister. But still he was being called. With his sister gone, he was on his own. The call was not to the boy whose mother had died, whose sister had abandoned him. The call was to the creature, requiring him to survive—the same for all wounded things left alive. But the boy never thought how his life would be without his sister, even though he was subconsciously prepared for it. As he walked along the dirt road, he thought. He forced himself not to fantasize about Xiaofeng coming back. He understood gone. When he was old enough to understand that his mother was dead, he stopped imagining the day he would meet her. He accepted that he never would. He moved slowly over to the edge of the dirt road, realizing it wasn’t safe to walk in the middle of the road. He would have to make these decisions for himself; there was no one around to look after him. There was only him. As he peered back through the green gate of the yard, he saw a large silhouette standing in the doorway. It was Baba. There was a different reaction within Xiaoyu. He no longer
sought protection from Baba. There was no one to do the protecting. He told himself he could no longer be afraid of Baba—a man who would find any excuse to hit him. There was no point in being afraid. It was better to be aware. He walked toward the light of the house and the silhouetted figure. He didn’t look up at the silhouette but he stopped within earshot.

  “You’re bigger than me… you’re stronger than me, but you have to fall asleep sometime,” said Xiaoyu. The surprised silhouette gave way and Xiaoyu walked straight into the house without looking at anything or anyone. Xiaoyu walked into the bedroom, which he no longer shared. He realized it was his bedroom now. But the boy disliked having his own space. He always considered having his own space as having his mind to work with. He was uncomfortable staying in the room by himself; it felt more like a prison than living space. He sat down on the bed—his sister’s bed—and thought about what had happened. Xiaoyu knew there were many opportunities in Beijing, especially opportunities for study. He figured that was what his sister had done, left to pursue an opportunity. He marveled at his sister’s ingenuity, because he had never considered schooling as a way out. For him, school was a place where he taught lessons, not learned them. But Xiaoyu figured he would follow the same path as his sister. He would stop thinking like a child and looking to run away. He would, like his sister, take the long way out. He decided to refocus on school and when his time came he would graduate out of the house as well, unless another exit presented itself sooner.

  Two weeks after his sister left, Xiaoyu began displaying a new intensity. His teachers began to notice, even other students. No one bothered him. The local community was small enough to notice any major changes. The absence of a person would not go unnoticed, especially someone connected to the infamous, Xiaoyu. Everyone knew Xiaofeng had gone, even the children who had bullied Xiaoyu since kindergarten, couldn’t help but have sympathy for him. He sat by himself on the dirt floor playground of his primary school. As far as Xiaoyu could tell, there was no recess to be had. He had to work with a steadied focus. While the other children played during recess, Xiaoyu brought his backpack to the playground along with his classroom exercises. While the other children played at soccer, Xiaoyu played at long division. He knew he couldn’t make only enemies; he had to make allies as well. For a long time he thought his sister, as ally, would do. But her departure left an obvious hole. For the time being, Xiaoyu saw his ally as his subjects and his learning. They were the tools that he would use to dig his escape tunnel. Where ever the tunnel would lead, would be better than where he was.

  A letter arrived for Xiaoyu a month after his sister left. It was from Xiaofeng. She said she was staying at the Beijing New City Teacher’s College and had been assigned modules with a British student and a Canadian one. She said it was difficult to keep up with their English because she never had so much exposure to people speaking English, but she reminded him that all things were difficult in the beginning. One thing the letter didn’t contain was an apology. Xiaoyu had never expected one. But the letter did give him something he had been wanting for a long time, an address. The day the letter arrived Xiaoyu had already completed most of his assignments during recess. This gave him ample time to write a response. His reply letter included everything that would have made his sister proud of him, that he had extremely high marks in all of his classes and was getting along with his teachers and not fighting with other students. He excluded the things that would make her regret her decision to leave, the fact that he rarely spoke to Baba or Mama. He did take a particular liking to Li Xing—their uncle. Xiaoyu liked Li Xing more than anyone else he had met, except for his sister. He wrote that he respected Li Xing for the similarities they shared. Both were little brothers. Both had strict older sisters. Both had a sizeable age difference between them and their sisters. Both had contempt for authority or, at least, a need to poke fun at it and holes in it. Both did not get along with Baba. Both felt Baba’s need to cite the principles he believed in delegitimized his authority. He couldn’t cope with an individual who had different principals. They both saw more ignorance in him than wisdom. Both were creatures that sought a better life far from home. Only the road for Li Xing had brought him back for reasons he wouldn’t talk about. But Li Xing told Xiaoyu stories about Qiu. Xiaoyu never thought he would care to listen to stories about a dead woman he’d never met, even if it was his mother. But Li Xing had a way of making the stories larger than life, like Qiu was the most interesting person he had never met. And Xiaoyu met her every day, after school. Since Xiaofeng left, Li Xing was given the duty of walking Xiaoyu to and from school. In the mornings, Li Xing was too tired to talk, but he came to life during the evenings. He was always prepared to tell Xiaoyu a story about something he did to annoy his sister. By the time Qiu was old enough to be interested in boys; Li Xing’s pranks took on a whole new meaning. At the time, Qiu was sixteen years-old and Li Xing was only seven. Li Xing had no idea of the trouble he had caused, that’s what made it so funny to Xiaoyu, who was only eight.

  Li Xing could make Xiaoyu relax, something only his sister could do. But Li Xing could do something that Xiaofeng couldn’t do; he could make Xiaoyu laugh. Li Xing could make fun of Baba in such a serious and sarcastic way, Xiaoyu could laugh till his stomach hurt. Li Xing’s jokes about Baba were all the more funny, when they were all the more true. Baba’s presence always interrupted Li Xing’s comedy routine, as it did one Saturday when students had been required to go to school. It was late September, Li Xing and Xiaoyu were coming back down the dirt road, which lead to the green gate guarding the house. Li Xing had a key to the walk-through door on the gate, which saved him the trouble of having to open the whole gate wide enough for a car to fit through. As Li Xing passed through the gate, he found Baba sitting on a stool outside in the yard. Baba looked up at Li Xing expressionless. Li Xing had a straight face.

  “Tell the boy to go to his room,” said Baba.

  Xiaoyu could feel the thick scab in the air. Something between the two men was off; Xiaoyu didn’t wait to be told again. He secured his book bag on his shoulder and walked steadily inside to his bedroom, leaving the door cracked. No one noticed. Xiaoyu could hear Li Xing and Baba as they came inside the house. Li Xing, a usual wit, had nothing to say. Xiaoyu stood by the cracked door and eavesdropped on the two men.

  “You care to explain this,” said Baba. Xiaoyu couldn’t see what the two men were looking at.

  “Why would I? It was in my bag. Care to explain why you’re looking in my bag?” said Li Xing.

  “I used to work with this guy, another manager at the factory. He called today asking if I still had any of my old rations stamps, because there’s people buying them. Museums and colleges are looking to have them. So I figured I might have left them in that room, somewhere. I go to look under the bed and there’s your duffel. I try to move it and see how heavy it is. Then I think you’ve been here three months almost, why is your bag still so full. So I look inside and the bag is full of it,” said Baba.

  “Where’s Mama?” asked Li Xing.

  “She’s out buying food,” said Baba.

  “Did you tell her about this?” asked Li Xing.

  “I figure first you better tell me about this and why you brought a bag full of money into my house,” said Baba.

  “You weren’t supposed to find it,” said Li Xing.

  “And we’re passed that now,” said Baba, “Don’t think that at my age I’ve forgotten everything. Even if I have, I’d still have more sense than you boy.”

  “Still you don’t know everything,” said Li Xing.

  “That’s what you need to tell me,” said Baba, “Is it stolen?”

  “No,” said Li Xing, “I didn’t rob a bank if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Who did you rob then? Don’t tell me the money is yours,” said Baba.

  “It’s just business,” said Li Xing.

  “What kind of business? You say you’re a manager, what kind of manager walks around
with a bag full of company money? You’re talking to a manager,” said Baba.

  “A manager of a brick factory,” said Li Xing.

  “That doesn’t carry around bags of money, what businessman does that?” said Baba, “A crooked one.”

  “The laws are different in Hong Kong,” said Li Xing.

  “How different? Different enough that you can carry a bag full of Hong Kong money and not worry about anything? It’s paradise?” said Baba.

  “Well you’ve never been there, so what difference would it make?” said Li Xing.

  “It would make a difference to a man who won’t tolerate what you’ve gotten into. You’ve got guilt written on you. And you won’t say where you got the money. I can guess and we don’t do that kind of business in this family. So you take this money here and put it with the rest of the money in there and you take it out of this house—along with yourself. Tonight you can stay, that’ll give you time to say goodbye to your mother. In the morning, you and your things will be gone,” said Baba.

  “You gonna tell her why you’re kicking me out?” asked Li Xing

  “You’re not being kicked out. You’ve proven you shouldn’t be allowed to stay,” said Baba, “You should be man enough to tell your mother that, if not, all the more reason why you can’t stay.”

  “Ok, I’ll tell her,” said Li Xing.

  “No you won’t, you’re not the man,” said Baba.

  Li Xing went back to his room taking the wad of money, which Baba left on the table. He locked the wooden door to his room. Locking his door was symbolic; everyone in the house knew a hard kick could open any of the old doors in the house, despite being locked. The locks were old and didn’t work. Li Xing saw the metaphor to Baba, as he lied on the bed looking at the door. He never felt comfortable under Baba’s roof, even as a kid. The house wasn’t built by Baba, but the walls were. Li Xing took the blame for leaving himself nowhere to go but his father’s house. It wasn’t an escape; it was a prison. As a grown man, the house seemed smaller and the walls seemed closer. Li Xing realized it was the longest time he had spent in the house, since he left. Doing time under Baba’s roof was the penalty for not thinking far enough ahead. He accepted everything on his last night at the house, even the consequences of leaving. He really didn’t have anywhere else to go, only back to Hong Kong. He had told himself he would use the time in Kuandian to think about what he should do and where he should go. Broaching the topic had the same repercussions always, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go—for three months. Laziness or lack of imagination had left him where he had started three months earlier and it bothered him. It bothered him more that both he and Baba knew he wouldn’t say goodbye to Mama. He didn’t have it in him to face her—not even wearing sunglasses. So he left when there was no sun, in the middle of the night.