Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [152]
“You want that after what he and his family just did?”
“Please let me finish. I want the Artists’ Association to recognize the Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune as a model commune. And, of course, it must also recognize our farsighted brigade leader,” I add deferentially. “We never could have created the mural without your guidance.”
He taps a fingernail on his desk, considering. His first comment is the very one I expect.
“Your husband said the mural’s content was black.”
“He only said that because he was angry with me. I embarrassed him with my request for a divorce. But now, if I help him get recognized as a model artist, he’ll forgive me, as both of us should forgive him. He has lost almost his entire family. The baby and I are all he has left. Besides, your leniency can bring you great honors. As you can see yourself, the mural is very patriotic. Have you not seen the spaceships, the giant radishes, the … Oh, you’ll receive much acclaim!”
The brigade leader likes my explanation, especially since he has so much to gain from it. Still, he doesn’t want any outsiders coming to the Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune. He feigns indifference, although his desire is quite clear.
“You said you wanted your father to see the mural. How can he do that if he doesn’t come in person?”
I pull out my mother’s camera. “If you help me take some photographs, I’ll send the film to Shanghai. Again, all praise belongs to you and the commune. There will be many honors. No one will come here, but the masses will hear your name over loudspeakers in houses and communes all across the country.” I pause to let him conjure that image. “As you know, all it takes are connections, and my father—”
“Has good guan-hsi,” he finishes for me. He pushes his chair from his desk. “Come. Let’s do this quickly.”
We go outside. I take a few shots to show Brigade Leader Lai how to use the camera.
“You’re doing fine by yourself. You don’t need my help,” he says, stating the obvious.
“I need to be in some of the photographs,” I respond. “Otherwise how will my parents know the mural’s from our commune? Anyone could be sending the film. You don’t want credit to go to the wrong commune, do you?”
“Right, right, absolutely,” he agrees.
I back up, stand next to a part of the mural that shows chickens pecking at the ground, with eggs the size of footballs in nests nearby. Snap. Snap. Slowly we move around the building until we reach the figure of Jesus hidden in the branches and bark of the tree. Snap. Snap.
“Excuse me, Brigade Leader, but could you wait one second? I need to do something.”
He pulls the camera from his eye. I peel off my jacket, take Sam out of her sling, and then hold her up.
“My parents haven’t seen my baby yet,” I say. “I think they’d like to see their granddaughter, don’t you? That will make them feel even closer ties to our commune.”
The brigade leader nods again and holds up the camera.
“Oh, please, Brigade Leader, step a little closer. Yes, a little closer still.”
I’m exhausted from fear and concentration, but I smile for the camera. I know exactly the message this photograph will send. Samantha and I are starving. We may be days from death. If you get this, please help us. If you come too late, at least you’ve seen your granddaughter. If Brigade Leader Lai doesn’t send the film, then there’s nothing to be done.
The brigade leader hands me the camera. I follow him back inside the leadership hall. He sits behind his desk. I keep standing as I take the film out of the camera. I start to put the roll in the envelope with my letter and the chicken feathers.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“The film has to go in an envelope, doesn’t it?”
The brigade leader’s eyes narrow. “What else is in there? Are you trying to communicate with the outside? This is against the rules.”
“I can’t send the film without a letter,” I say.
“You may not send a letter.”
“All right.” I remove the film and put it in my pocket. I turn to leave.
“Wait! What does your letter say?”
I remove the piece of paper, careful not to