Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [166]
“It’s said that Mao made his own self-criticism in front of a gathering of seven thousand Party officials,” one of the dancing girls whispers conspiratorially.
“Maybe he stepped aside to avoid blame for the Great Leap Forward,” the cobbler counters.
Samantha starts to fuss, and he hands her off to the widow. As the mother of two daughters, she knows exactly how to calm a baby, putting Samantha on her shoulder, swaying, and rhythmically patting her back. I set a platter of bitter cakes on the table, and the boarders quickly snap them up, all the while chattering.
“So what if Mao’s retired as head of state?” the widow asks. “He still maintains supreme command. Nothing has changed.”
“Except that we’re hungry.” This comes from Cook.
The boarders still don’t fully realize how lucky they are.
“Who could have guessed that rats would disappear from Shanghai?” The dancing girl leans forward, and everyone edges in to listen as she reveals in an awed tone, “People have eaten them!” Then she turns to the widow. “It’s my turn. Give me the baby.” She holds Samantha under her arms, so she can practice standing. Samantha’s still weak, but she’s surprisingly stubborn and persistent. Her little legs wobble, but she flaps her arms excitedly, a big smile on her face. The dancing girl steadies Samantha and then turns to me. “We’ll come with you to the Lunghua Pagoda to collect leaves the next time you go, if you’d like.”
“I’d like that very much.” (Except I’ll be gone.)
Dun and my mother duck out of the kitchen first, taking Ta-ming with them. The dancing girl hands me the baby. As the others file out, they chuck her chin or give her a delicate pinch. Everyone leaves their dishes for me to clean. I pour Cook another cup of tea.
“You should rest,” I tell him. “Little Miss doesn’t want you to be too tired for your duties later today.”
He nods, takes his cup, and shuffles toward the stairs. I hurry past him to the room I share with my mother. She stands before the mirror, staring at herself critically. She wears her work trousers and an ironed white blouse. Her hair has been brushed and tucked behind her ears.
“You look beautiful,” I say. “A perfect bride.”
“Little in my life is how I imagined it,” she says as she turns to me. These are not the words of regret that were always so much a part of my mother’s makeup. Although she’s longed for a big wedding with the dress and banquet—first for herself and then for me—she’s still not going to get it, yet she’s smiling and happy. Life is what it is, and she’s living it as a Dragon should—never accepting defeat.
As she puts on her paper collector’s jacket, I go to the window, open it, and bring in the box we’ve stored on the sill to keep the contents cool and safe. I sit on May’s bed and carefully lift the lid. Inside are a dozen eggs given to us by Z.G. Today my mother will go to her work unit and tell her supervisor that she wants to marry a professor. She will promise her supervisor a dozen fresh eggs if he will accompany her to the government office at one o’clock, where they’ll meet Dun, who’ll be coming from his morning classes. Her supervisor needs to approve the marriage: verify that she doesn’t suffer from disease, that she’s a helpful member of the proletariat, and that she and Dun are not blood relatives up to the third degree of relationship. The officer will have my mother and Dun sign some papers, and then they’ll be given a marriage certificate. My mother will hang on to the eggs, however, unless her supervisor also agrees to let her have the afternoon off for her honeymoon. We’re sure he’ll accept this bribe, since none of us have seen eggs in months and their protein is a good safeguard against the swelling disease.
I rotate the eggs so they’ll look perfect, replace the lid, and hand the box to my mother. I