Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [119]
I pause on the terrace of my husband’s home and look out over the fields. What is it about impending motherhood that causes me to see things with such fresh eyes? I don’t know, but how much more rapturous the yellow of the rapeseed looks than it did this morning. For me to survive here—as a wife and mother—I’m going to have to do something for myself, as Auntie May did with her work in Hollywood and my mom did in her care of our home, the café, and all of us. I need to take the images that have been flitting through my brain and put them down. A photograph is too small. A poster is too common. In my mind I see something as big and expansive as the rapeseed fields. While I can’t have a canvas that large, I know of the perfect place to paint what I’m feeling: the walls of the leadership hall where Brigade Leader Lai has his meals and stores the grain for the commune. I’m going to have a baby, I’m going to launch a Sputnik, I’m going to right things with my husband, and along the way I hope to protect myself from the peasants and find my true self.
Pearl
THE LADDER OF LIFE
IT’S APRIL—TWENTY months since I left Los Angeles and five months since Z.G. and I returned from Canton. I’ve gone back to being a paper collector; Z.G. has gone back to his studio. I’m ignored for the street cleaner I am; he’s watched closely to make sure he doesn’t stray from mandated subjects. We follow our daily and weekly routines: painting, parties, and political meetings for Z.G.; working, participating in the life of my house, visiting Superintendent Wu at the police station, political reeducation, and a little time in my garden for me. Z.G. and I still see each other quite a bit. We’ve finally become what we always should have been—good friends, brother-and-sister close.
Right now I sit on the front steps of my family home, letting the last of the day’s sun warm my face. The season’s first roses are in bloom. I hear Dun and the other boarders inside, laughing. I hold two letters in my hand: one from May, one from Joy. I open May’s letter first and find twenty dollars. Nothing in her letter has been censored, and obviously no one took the money. We seem to be in a period of openness, but that could change tomorrow. I put the bill in my pocket and open the letter from Joy—my treat for the day.
I’m pregnant.
I take this news with decidedly mixed feelings. I’m thrilled that I’m going to be a grandmother—who wouldn’t be?—but I worry about my daughter. Is she healthy? Will she be all right having a baby in the commune? But most of all, is she happy? I hope with all my heart that she is. But that’s not enough for me. I want to see her. I want to be part of this miraculous moment. I want to bring gifts, and already I start thinking of things I can make and buy for Joy, the baby, and even all those other children in her household. I’ll visit Superintendent Wu tomorrow and see if I can get a travel permit, but first I need to tell Z.G. the news.
I go to my room, change clothes, and then take the bus to his house. I’m prepared to wait for him to return from some party or other, but he’s home, which is a nice surprise.
“Joy’s going to have a baby,” I announce. “I’m going to be a grandma and you’re going to be a grandpa.”
I try to interpret the emotions that ripple across his features, but I’m unsuccessful.
“I have just stepped up a rung on the ladder of my life,” I go on. “So have you.”
“A grandfather? I haven’t been a father all that long.” He’s trying to be humorous. Or maybe this news makes him uncomfortable. Being a grandfather may not mesh with his view of himself as a bachelor about town. Then, “It’s wonderful! A grandfather!” Then he laughs and I laugh with him.
Later, Z.G.’s driver takes me home in the Red Flag limousine. I say good-bye and enter my house. I get some stationery and find a spot in the salon to sit. Dun is across from me, reading student papers. I’m struck, as I always am, by his dignity during these difficult times. He has a tranquil