Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [61]
“Now let’s consider my daughter’s work,” Z.G. continues, as he makes his way over to me. Here it comes … again … the usual unfavorable critique. “As you know, she’s been working on a portrait of our great Chairman. She’s never met him, but she believes in him.”
“As we all do,” one of the students calls out.
“When we first came to your village,” Z.G. says, “my daughter was weak in her technique and she was afraid of color. But what she lacked in skill, she made up for in enthusiasm for the New China. Who can tell me what is best about her portrait?”
“She made his mole not too big and not too small.” This comes from Deping, who was so soundly criticized for his turnip.
“I like his blue suit. It fits him perfectly,” adds Kumei.
“Yes, and she’s made him a little thinner than he is in real life,” Z.G. adds with a chuckle, and the others laugh along with him.
“Didn’t you tell us that the best art glorifies Party leaders, Party history, and Party policies?” Tao asks.
“Absolutely,” Z.G. agrees amiably. “These things are the backbone of the New China.”
“The next best art recognizes workers, peasants, and soldiers,” Tao adds.
“They are the flesh of our country,” Z.G. agrees, but he’s not done with me. “My daughter has done a good job. I think”—he takes his eyes away from the others to look right at me—“that my daughter is not bad. She’s not bad at all.”
Which makes me feel like I’m learning … finally.
When the class ends, Tao helps Z.G. and me carry the art supplies back to the villa. I know that Tao and I are not allowed to be by ourselves anymore, but I want to have some private time with him before I leave Green Dragon. I’m trying to figure out how to ask Z.G. for permission when he says, “Just be back in an hour.”
Tao and I hurry out the gate, turn left, and then follow the stream until we reach the path that leads up to the Charity Pavilion. We’re barely inside the pavilion when Tao pulls me into his arms. I’m kissing him, he’s kissing me, and it’s all very frantic, hurried, and desperate. For too long we’ve been allowed only to look at each other across a table, separated by my father, during our private lessons. We’ve had to sit on opposite sides of the ancestral hall while Z.G. conducted his art classes. We’ve purposely walked to the fields at different times and chosen different jobs to do: picking or shucking corn, harvesting or separating rice, packing or carrying baskets of tomatoes.
Tao’s lips are on my neck and he’s fumbling with the frogs on my blouse when I pull away. I take a breath and then another. Tao struggles to regain control of himself too. I take another deep breath, let it out slowly, and turn to face the view. When I first came here, the fields spread out before us like green satin. Now it looks like Los Angeles at this time of year, when weeds, grass, and gardens turn biscuit brown. I’m going to miss this place. I’m going to miss the smell of the earth, the sunsets, and the quiet paths that snake through the hillsides and into the valleys. But most of all I’m going to miss Tao. He stands behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his mouth by my ear, his body up against my back.
“May I call you Ai-jen—Beloved?” he asks. His voice holds neither fear nor brashness. He is merely frank and honest. I’ve heard many of the younger married couples refer to each other by this endearment. Can I really be Tao’s beloved?
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“I knew the night you arrived. Chairman Mao says women hold up half the sky. Can’t we hold up the sky together? My house is small, and we’d have to live with my family—”
“Wait!” I shake my head, certain that I’m hearing him wrong. “What are you saying?”
“You’re the right age. I’m the right age. We aren’t blood relatives up to the third degree of relationship. Neither of us has any diseases. Let’s go to the Party secretary and his wife to ask permission to marry.”
Marry? His proposal, such as it is, causes something wonderful to happen. My mind empties of all worries and memories.
“We barely know each other,