Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [96]
My daughter—tremulous and uncertain—stares out the open door. A sheen of sweat glistens on her upper lip. She stands very still.
“Walk out of here with me, Joy,” I continue in English—a language that seems so open and free to me in this claustrophobic place. “Please.”
When she shakes her head, I give her my wedding presents—my camera, film, and the scarf. “Take some photographs,” I say. “Send me the film and I’ll get it developed. I’ll send some of those pictures to May. She’ll want to see you here.”
Joy walks me down the hill to the villa. Z.G. and I pick up our bags. Then she escorts us up the hill that leads out of the village. Above us, clouds like fish scales drift across the sky. Cicadas screech. We say our good-byes at the welcome sign. My girl doesn’t cry and neither do I, but looking into her face I see not the gloriously strong bride of last night but someone unsure. Z.G. and I are halfway down the other side of the hill when I glance back. I expect to see my daughter still standing there, but she’s already started her journey to her husband and her new life.
Z.G. continues along the path. He’s loaded down with his suitcase and various other satchels. The art supplies and all the posters that were done in the commune were sent ahead of us in a caravan of wheelbarrows earlier this morning. I want to say that I’m torn between my daughter and going off alone with Z.G. for the next several weeks, but this decision is easy.
“Z.G.,” I call. He stops and looks back at me. I set my bag in the dirt and hurry to him. “I’m staying here.” He unburdens himself of his bags, preparing for an argument. “I can’t leave Joy,” I rush on. “I’ve come this far, and I love her too much.”
He regards me, clear-eyed. What I’ve learned these past five months is that, while he may not be the best father or give the best advice, he feels some connection to Joy.
“I wish I could stay here with you,” he says at last, “but my status is too unstable.”
“You don’t have to explain. Dog today, cat tomorrow,” I recite, quoting his servant from when I first arrived in Shanghai. The success he’s had with his New Year’s poster and his recent Mao portraits helped get him out of the political trouble he was in, but that could change on a whim.
“I’ll return in three months to take you to the trade fair in Canton. I used my guan-hsi to get permission to bring both you and Joy with me. Joy probably won’t want to come. In any case, she can’t because she’s married into the countryside. You’ll need to attend the fair with me though.”
Or else he’ll be in trouble again.
“I understand,” I say, “but I may not want to leave.”
“You say that now, but by then you’ll know if Joy is happy. If she can show you that, then you’ll be able to come with me.”
For the first time, I feel something like admiration for Z.G. He’s finally beginning to understand the kind of woman I am. He puts his hands on my upper arms and squeezes them. He stares into my eyes. I hold his gaze.
“Pearl.”
“Yes?”
“You’re a good mother. I can never thank you enough for that.”
He lets go of my arms, picks up his satchels, and heads down the path toward the road, where he’ll catch the bus. I watch for a few moments, then turn, walk back to my suitcase, and continue on to Green Dragon Village.
Pearl
A SMILING FACE
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.
I roll over and pull the pillow over my head. I had another restless night, getting woken up a couple of times by the sound of someone prowling through the corridor outside the building where I sleep in the villa. I could use a little extra sleep.
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
It’s no use. The loudspeaker hasn’t even come on yet to tell us to get up, but the Campaign Against the Four Evils—sparrows, rats, insects, and flies (which, for some reason, have their own special category)—isn’t for lazybones. The worst of the evils are sparrows. They’re said to devour seeds and grain, and now they must be eliminated. If the masses make enough noise—beating