Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [253]
But there was something else. And he found it much worse than her snoring.
Cat Eyes’ periods had become irregular and she had a continuous discharge. Her body smelled putrid, like maggoty meat. It was not so bad during the day when she had layers of clothes on, but at night, when she took them off, the smell turned his stomach. She had been to see the herbalist in Canton Street but he just said she was overworking and was rundown. Some nourishing chicken soup would cure her. They had bought several fine hens and made soup from them but nothing had helped. Kam Shan urged her to see a Canadian doctor but she said she was not going to take off her clothes in front of a yeung fan. They argued and argued but she would not go.
Who would have thought that Cat Eyes would die so young? She had the most stamina of all of them, trotting back and forth all day in the restaurant, six days a week, and throwing herself into games of mahjong on her day off. And then one day she just died.
It started with her periods, then she got terrible pains in her legs. These became so bad that she had to take time off work. Kam Shan angrily accused her of laziness but Cat Eyes did not answer back. She just responded with a foolish smile. In fact, her illness made her more sweet-tempered than she had ever been. Eventually Kam Shan noticed that she could not turn over in bed without breaking out in a sweat, and realized she was seriously ill, but it was too late.
She sank into a deep sleep that lasted for several days, and then suddenly woke and asked Kam Shan to go and get her three mahjong friends. “Are you really up to playing mahjong?” asked Kam Shan disbelievingly. But his father gave him a look: “You can see she won’t last much longer,” he said. “Go and get them.” Kam Shan set up the mahjong table at her bedside and the four women played till dawn. They knew she was dying, and let her win. That night, Cat Eyes filled a whole bag with her winnings, which pleased her immensely.
After they left that morning, she began to fail. Her face was drawn and her hands trembled. She asked Kam Shan for a cigarette. She had been smoking for some years, the cheapest brand, of course. Kam Shan took out one of his own, then put it back in the packet and went down the street to get a packet of fine-cut State Express 555. He lit one and put it in her mouth, but Cat Eyes did not have time to smoke it.
She pointed up to the attic room, and said two words: “Yin Ling.…” Then she was gone.
Later Kam Shan went up to the attic. After a good deal of searching, he found a letter and a moth-eaten old handkerchief bag in one corner. The envelope was from St. Joseph’s Hospital and contained some receipts and a letter with test results. The letter was in English and Kam Shan had to find someone with medical knowledge who could read it for him. It confirmed a diagnosis of late-stage cervical cancer. The letter said that the cancer had developed from chronic cervical erosion and had spread to her liver and bones. It was dated some months back.
Cat Eyes had seen a doctor and knew quite well what she was suffering from, Kam Shan realized. For all her adult life Cat Eyes had tried to put the degradation of her life as a Gold Mountain child prostitute behind her. Acknowledging this disease would have brought it all back. Rather than face that shame, she preferred to get along as best she could without treatment until death claimed her.
The bag contained a roll of mildewed banknotes, some of them nibbled by rats. She must have secretly stashed this money away for Yin Ling’s wedding,