Women of the Silk

by Gail Tsukiyama

  Lin shook her head. “No one has seen her.”

  “She was already gone when I woke up this morning. I haven’t seen her since last night,” Pei said, a feeling of dread coming over her. She swallowed her suspicions about Mei-li and Hong and simply shrugged her shoulders in ignorance, hoping Mei-li would return any minute, full of smiles and apologies.

  But Mei-li did not return. The day dragged on with Pei’s eyes wandering the gray room for any sign of Mei-li. The heat and steam felt oppressive as Pei’s worry turned to anger, and then to worry again.

  In the evening, Auntie Yee frantically sent the girls out in small groups all over Yung Kee to search for Mei-li. The guilt of silence stung her with such a pain, Pei knew she would have to immediately go to Su-lung’s to see if Mei-li was with Hong. She thought about telling Lin the whole story, but decided to wait until she returned.

  In all the confusion, it wasn’t hard for Pei to leave the girls’ house unnoticed. She walked quickly down the almost empty streets. Pei hadn’t been to Su-lung’s house since the dinner, and it looked different, smaller and dirtier. Pei’s thoughts of what to say still weren’t complete when she reached up and knocked on the rough wooden door. To Pei’s complete surprise, Hong appeared before her, his head stooped at the low doorway. The oily smell of cooking escaped from the dark room behind him. He glared at Pei blankly and said, “Su-lung’s not home.”

  “I’m not here to see Su-lung,” Pei snapped back. “I wanted to speak to you.”

  Hong’s eyes focused hard on her. “Why?”

  “I wanted to know if you knew where Mei-li was.”

  “I don’t know any Mei-li,” Hong answered calmly.

  Then Pei took a chance and said, “She knows you.”

  Hong shifted his weight, and his face appeared flushed. “Then she’s telling lies.”

  “Do you know where she is?” Pei asked again.

  Hong looked harder at her, then answered abruptly, “I can barely tell one of you from another, much less know where your friend is.”

  Then Hong stepped back, his face half-hidden in the darkness. He closed the door so quickly that Pei didn’t have the chance to say anything else. She hesitated a moment, then turned to leave, having seen the answer she was looking for in his narrow eyes. Hong was guilty of other things, but Pei thought he didn’t know where Mei-li was; and for the first time, she realized what it was to really feel hate. It was hard and cold as stone, and she couldn’t have hated Hong more if he were a Japanese soldier.

  The news of Mei-li’s death came unexpectedly the next morning. No one at the girls’ house had slept much the night before, especially not Auntie Yee. She answered the door and received the news with the pain of a fresh wound; then she gathered the girls together and told them the sad news, before taking full responsibility for Mei-li’s drowning. “I should have seen it,” she said, despondent. “I’ve known of so many girls who have taken their own lives rather than face a marriage they didn’t want. How could I have been so blind!”

  Mei-li’s body would be brought to the girls’ house sometime that morning. She might have been lost forever, if she hadn’t gotten caught on some branches at the side of the river, and been brought back by a boatload of fishermen.

  “At least we know Mei-li’s spirit can be laid to rest without drifting aimlessly out to sea!” Moi finally said, the only one daring to speak. She moved about the room slowly, refilling each cup of tea.

  Pei could feel her heart beating so fast, she thought she might faint. Her first thought was that it wasn’t true: Mei-li couldn’t be dead; her laughter still rang so loudly throughout the house. Pei suddenly felt as if she would suffocate if she didn’t do something. She stood up and moved toward the door, but she wasn’t sure if she would make it. Then, without saying a word, Lin took hold of Pei’s arm and helped her outside.

  “Mei-li was in love with Su-lung’s brother, Hong,” Pei finally said, breathing in the fresh air. She swallowed hard.

  Without a word, Lin put her arms around Pei and hugged her. Then, pulling away, Lin pushed Pei’s hair away from her face and said softly, “It’s not your fault, Mei-li was old enough to know what she was getting into.”

  “But I could have done something, stopped her …”

  “No one could have stopped Mei-li, not if she didn’t want you to.”

  Pei nodded, her eyes burning with tears. “I think I’ll wait out here for them to bring her back,” she simply said.

  “If you need me, I’ll be inside,” Lin said.

  It was a cool, cloudless day. Something inside of Pei still expected to see Mei-li come bouncing up the steps, offering her a piece of sugar candy, and laughing at all the fuss she had created. But when Mei-li’s body was brought back to the girls’ house, lifeless and covered with a dark blanket, Pei swallowed hard and began to cry openly in small gasping breaths.

  Auntie Yee wouldn’t let any of the girls near Mei-li. Her body lay alone in the reading room until her parents arrived. Pei hovered around the door, until she was sure Auntie Yee had gone upstairs, before quietly entering. The room was dark and secret, illuminated by two candles, with tiny flickering glows of incense burning in the corner. Pei moved slowly toward Mei-li. When her eyes adjusted to the light, Pei could see that Mei-li’s body had been washed and was now wrapped tightly in white cloth, her head uncovered. Auntie Yee had combed her hair and rebraided two even coils, which lay neatly to each side. Pei leaned over, just close enough to see her friend one last time. Mei-li’s face appeared calm and familiar, just bloated a bit from her time in the river. She appeared healthy and asleep. Pei could almost convince herself that this was simply all a bad dream, but when Pei lifted her fingers to Mei-li’s face, she felt nothing. The coldness of death pushed her back, filled her with a dread that spread throughout her body and remained with her for days.

  When Mei-li’s parents came the next morning, they were solemn and silent. Her father spoke in low tones to Auntie Yee and showed little emotion, while her mother wept quietly to herself. Not long after they arrived, two men came to take Mei-li’s body away. The girls watched in silence as her body was carried out. Then they lined up by the door to offer their condolences when Mei-li’s parents left. Mei-li’s father kowtowed and accepted their gesture with gratitude. “It was an accident,” he mumbled. “A stupid accident!” he said again to himself as he walked out, not daring to lift his eyes to meet theirs.

  Pei found out later that Mei-li’s funeral was small and had been kept very quiet. Mei-li was buried alongside her ancestors in their village not far from Yung Kee. No one from the girls’ house had been invited to attend, not even Auntie Yee, who had grieved as much as any mother would. On the day of Mei-li’s burial, the girls worked at the silk factory as usual, each one of them in a somber state of mourning, with thick black armbands tied tightly around their arms.

  Afterwards, vicious rumors about Mei-li spread through Yung Kee. Some said she was unhappy and opposed her parents’ marriage match, while others whispered that she was with child, and had no choice but to end their lives. Auntie Yee and the girls quietly grieved.

  Pei lived through each day in a dull trance. She ate very little and hadn’t slept well since Mei-li’s drowning. Only Lin could offer her comfort, which Pei gratefully accepted, even if no one could take away the pain. She couldn’t understand how Mei-li’s life could mean so little, how a thing like love or marriage could end a life. If it could hurt so badly it killed, then it wasn’t something she needed in her life.

  Then early one morning, several weeks after Mei-li’s death, Pei’s sleeplessness brought her to a final decision. She would go through the hairdressing ceremony with Lin. It was as clear as any light. Pei couldn’t wait to tell Lin. Very quietly she entered Lin’s room, careful not to wake any of the others. Pei spoke Lin’s name softly until she slowly awakened.

  “Lin, please get up,” Pei whispered, her warm breath close to Lin’s ear.

  Lin didn’t stir awake until
Pei’s fingers gently pressed against her shoulder. “What is it? Is everything all right?” she asked, groggy with sleep.

  “I need to speak with you,” Pei said softly. “I’ve come to a decision.”

  “What is it?” Lin asked, closing her eyes and opening them again to get a clearer vision of Pei.

  Pei looked down so that Lin couldn’t see that she had been crying, her face flushed and swollen. But it was futile to hide anything from Lin. Lin reached over and touched Pei’s warm cheek.

  “I’ve decided to be with you at the hairdressing ceremony,” Pei whispered to her.

  Then Pei was crying again. A silent swelling of tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, even as she fought against them. She waited for Lin to say something, to tell her to wait until morning to see how she felt. But when Pei looked into Lin’s eyes, she knew Lin had finally understood that nothing would change her mind.

  Women Who Do Not Go Down to the Family

  Pei and Lin’s hairdressing ceremony was postponed for several months after Mei-li’s drowning. All thoughts of bad omens were put away, and never mentioned in order not to mar the ceremony. Still, there were times when Pei could feel Mei-li’s presence in the empty bed next to hers, or almost see Mei-li coming toward her on the street. But it was always just a shadow, or a cruel trick of the mind. Pei didn’t dare speak of these omens to anyone. Mei-li had chosen to go into the other world, even if her ghost lingered. So when the date of the ceremony was finally chosen, Pei felt relieved that they would soon be leaving all the memories that were still so painful.

  Auntie Yee was not surprised at Pei’s decision to join Lin in the ceremony. They had been almost inseparable from the beginning. She smiled, and cocked her head to the side for a moment, but whatever doubts Auntie Yee might have felt about Pei’s joining the sisterhood, she kept them to herself.

  Pei and Lin’s hairdressing ceremony was small and simple. Mei-li’s death was still too fresh in their minds. Unlike Chen Ling and Ming’s, their ceremony included no large banquet and no prolonged wave of excitement led up to it. On the morning of their hairdressing ceremony, Pei sat down and faced the large mirror used for the ceremony. Thin sticks of incense burned in front of her. The long black skirt she wore felt hot and uncomfortable. She looked around the room, crowded with empty beds. It felt as if an entire lifetime had gone by since that first day she arrived at the girls’ house eight years ago. Little had Pei known then, that having her hair cut would change her life so drastically.

  When Auntie Yee came, she said little and laughed nervously. She stepped behind Lin and tapped her shoulder. Pei watched closely as Lin smiled and nodded her head for Auntie Yee to begin the ceremony.

  It felt like a dream at first, as Pei closed her eyes and listened to Auntie Yee’s soft chanting. She felt calm and happy, knowing that this time she wasn’t alone, but with Lin, as she entered upon a new life. When Pei felt the warmth of Auntie Yee behind her, she glanced up and smelled Auntie Yee’s clean, open scent. Without saying a word, Auntie Yee smiled and began chanting and combing through Pei’s hair. Pei felt a small twinge of pride move through her. And when Auntie Yee’s quick fingers braided her hair and pulled it gently into a chignon, Pei knew she was right to take this final step in joining the sisterhood.

  Auntie Yee had arranged a wonderful dinner for them at the girls’ house. The dining room was transformed with the glitter of red-and-gold banners hanging from the walls. Trays of candy and favors lay waiting for all the guests on each table. Auntie Yee and Moi had created a pleasant, happy atmosphere, even though Mei-li’s death still cast a silent sadness among all of them.

  Lin’s family did not attend the dinner, much to Pei’s relief Instead, Lin’s mother sent fruit and lucky money to Lin as a small token. Pei’s own family remained silent. She had asked Auntie Yee to let her family know of her decision to go through the hairdressing ceremony, but no reply was ever returned from them. After the ceremony, Pei would no longer be bound to them financially, but there was no doubt in her heart that the money she earned would continue to go to her family. It was the only tie she still had to them.

  Chen Ling and Ming had arranged for Pei and Lin to stay at the same sisters’ house as they did. When the dinner was over and the last girl had congratulated them with red packages of lucky money, it was time for Pei and Lin to leave the girls’ house. In all the excitement, Pei had forgotten how difficult it would be to leave Auntie Yee and all the girls she’d come to know as her family.

  In the cool, clear evening Pei and Lin stood at the front gate with the entirety of their belongings folded into two small baskets. They slowly hugged each one of the girls, even Moi, who usually kept her distance and stood awkwardly to one side. Pei would always remember the muted, humming sound of her younger sisters’ weeping, and of Auntie Yee’s childlike voice rising above the rest, saying, “Remember to keep warm—you won’t get sick if you keep warm!”

  The sisters’ house was older and larger than the girls’ house. It was no more than half a mile away, but on a secluded street that they rarely walked down. Once they were through the gate, Pei and Lin stood silent for a moment. They looked up in the semidarkness and saw the house’s elaborate carved woodwork and large open terrace. According to Chen Ling, it was once the house of a very wealthy family from Canton who had come to spend summers in Yung Kee. Upon the marriage of his children, the father found no need for such a large house and had sold it to the silk factory.

  When they approached the large, ornate door, Pei’s eyes searched the dim outlines for any hint of what lay beyond it. When Chen Ling reached to open the door, it was helped along on the other side.

  “Welcome!” said an older, gray-haired woman. She introduced herself as Kung Ma.

  As they entered the large hall, the first thing to catch Pei’s eye was an arrangement of glass hanging from the ceiling. She had never seen anything like it before in all her life. Its large bulk was made up of clear shiny pieces encircled by lighted candles. Not until Lin nudged Pei on the arm did she wake from its enchantment.

  “It’s much like the chandelier that hangs in our house in Canton,” Lin whispered to her.

  Pei remained speechless.

  “I would like you to meet Pei,” said Chen Ling, continuing with her introductions to Kung Ma.

  Kung Ma smiled kindly and nodded her head.

  “Hello,” Pei said, looking shyly at the silver streaks that ran through Kung Ma’s hair.

  “My, you are a tall one.” Kung Ma laughed warmly. “Welcome to our humble house.” She pointed toward a set of richly carved double doors. “Come now, let’s go meet some of your other sisters.”

  Kung Ma opened the doors to an enormous room. It was at least three times the size of the reading room back at the girls’ house. Their new sisters were scattered throughout the room. To one side were bookcases, filled with more books than Pei had ever seen before. On a table in one corner was a large statue of Kuan Yin with sticks of incense burning before her. Their sweet aroma filled the air. Unlike the spare, sterile walls of the girls’ house, these walls and tables were covered with paintings and small statues.

  “Most of those were painted by us,” Kung Ma told them, pointing to the wall covered with paintings. “I’m afraid we have a long way to go.” She laughed.

  Pei looked away from the crowded walls and tables, only to suddenly realize they were being carefully scrutinized by their new sisters. The sisters were of all ages and sizes, simply dressed in white shirts and dark trousers. Each one had her hair pulled back. Some whispered back and forth to each other, while others gave the newcomers curious sidelong glances. Pei immediately felt their eyes directed toward her.

  Then, as if Lin could read her mind, she turned to Pei and whispered, “I think it’s your height they find so curious.” Pei swallowed hard and lowered her shoulders. Even when the women pulled their eyes away, Pei could still feel their curiosity burn through her.

  Their new room at the sisters
’ house was toward the end of a long hallway. Like Chen Ling and Ming, they shared a small, inexpensive room. Each month their rent and family obligations would be subtracted from their pay with still enough left over for essentials and pleasure. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was surprisingly bare and plain. It contained two beds and a small table separating them. At the far end of the room there was a window, whose frame was littered with flaking paint. Pei moved instantly toward it. In the darkness, she looked down to what she guessed was a small garden.

  “It’s too dark to see,” Pei said.

  “What?” asked Lin.

  Pei turned around to see Lin sitting on one of the beds, an oil lamp cradled in her hands. For the first time since all the festivities began, Pei really looked hard at Lin’s face in the white glow of light. She could see that despite how exhausted Lin was, she looked beautiful with her hair pulled back, exposing the smooth, even lines of her face. As strange and uncomfortable as Pei felt in their new life, Lin seem to fit into it perfectly.

  “I think there’s a garden down there,” Pei said.

  Lin smiled wearily. She placed the lamp on the table and looked up at Pei. “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve never seen a house so big.” Pei looked around their new room. “It’ll take days just to discover where everything is!”

  Lin laughed and stood up. “So which bed do you want?”

  At first, Pei was almost shy at the thought of sharing a room with Lin. “I’ll take this one,” she said quickly, choosing the bed closer to the window.

  They lay in their beds, tossing and turning, trying to get used to the strangeness of the room and the constant shifts of wind, which sent a whistling sound through the large, hollow house. Neither them said a word in the darkness. The light of day would bring the beginning of their new lives, and it was almost morning when they finally slept.