Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [196]
Kam Ho, weighing the fat envelope stuffed with notes in his hand, felt brazen but also proud.
He helped her into fresh clothes, feeling how relaxed her body was compared to its rigidity just a quarter of an hour ago. She had got thinner this summer, her breasts slacker, like a Buddha’s hand fruit desiccated in the sun. It occurred to him that she had once been plump with juices; he had leached her dry. He felt a spasm of misery. But, miserable or not, there was no time to lose. He had to speak.
He pulled the photograph of the girl out of his pocket and gave it to Mrs. Henderson.
“I want to take a trip back home, ma’am, and marry this girl.”
Mrs. Henderson said nothing in reply and did not look at the picture. He could almost hear her heart plummet. She stared at the wall through eyes that appeared like deep, dark, dried-up wells, with crumbling stones lying at the bottom.
Kam Ho did not dare look at Mrs. Henderson. He stared at his hands, feeling himself grow hot. Finally, he stammered:
“I can’t … can’t not go. My d-dad, grandson.”
Still there was no reply. Then he heard the sound of stones grinding against each other in the well’s arid depths. A frail, reedy voice emerged.
“Six months,” Mrs. Henderson whispered. “I’ll give you six months.”
Dear Ah-Fat,
Kam Ho arrived home about five days ago, and because he has so little time before he has to leave, we held the wedding yesterday. The situation is very volatile here. There are bandits everywhere and we have had to be very discreet about the wedding presents. We sent all the gifts under cover of darkness to the Au family and they did the same. Fortunately, Mak Dau was able to accompany them, armed, which was reassuring. In a troubled world, it is only guns that can assure our safety, so we may buy more next year. The wedding banquet was very simple, only a dozen or so tables and family guests. Kam Ho was such a little boy when he left for Gold Mountain, only fourteen years old. He is so different now I would not recognize him in the street.
Last time you left, Kam Sau was still in my belly. Now she is sixteen and has never met her father. She has graduated from high school and is preparing to take the entrance exams for the provincial teacher-training college. The college is in the city and I am worried it is not safe for her to travel there alone, so I am thinking of betrothing her to Mak Dau’s son, Ah-Yuen. Although they are not of the same rank as our family, Ah-Yuen is very bright and has done exceptionally well in his school exams. He is a young man with a promising future. Kam Sau and Ah-Yuen have been brought up together and are genuinely fond of each other. What do you think? If you agree, they could become engaged this autumn and get married when she graduates from college. You should come back and preside over the ceremonies.
Kam Ho says you are reluctant to come home because you want to earn more money. You know the Fong family properties and fields bring in enough income to sustain us for years to come. Besides, you are getting on in years and should be home with our family where you belong. I do hope you will make a decision as soon as possible. Even the tallest trees belong to their roots. The grass grows tall on your mother’s grave and, although I go regularly and keep it neat, she needs her son to come and pay his respects. Has Kam Shan’s leg improved?