Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [87]
The wedding day was a beautiful but hot summer day. During the height of the party, Mary and I danced for the guests in our small courtyard, and for most of them, this was the first time they’d ever seen ballet. We hummed the music and danced for our loved ones, and our adoring audience clapped and cheered our every lift and movement. It was one of our most rewarding performances ever.
When the moment came for Mary and I to bid farewell to my niang, my dia, and my brothers, Mary was an emotional mess and my heart was a big twisted knot. It felt just like the time when I’d first left for the Beijing Dance Academy, sixteen years earlier. Leaving my beloved niang would always be just too hard. Even the family rock, my dia, tried hard to control his emotions when we finally shook hands in farewell. As our truck pulled away, I saw him wiping tears away from his face.
I was going home. But I was leaving home too. I was closing a full circle within my heart. The longest chapter of my life had finally come to an end. I thought of my beloved ones. Now they didn’t have to eat dried yams or tree bark. Now they had better food to eat. Now their living standard had improved considerably.
But Mary and I couldn’t stop comparing our life in the West to my family’s life in Qingdao, and at times I was overwhelmed with guilt. Ever since I had been selected for the Beijing Dance Academy, I had felt this guilt, this burden, this sense of responsibility for my family. I wished all of my brothers could have had the opportunities I’d had, but from the bottom of my sad heart I knew it was not to be. I was the one who had to fulfill my family’s dreams. Mary and I had given each of them as much money as we could afford, but I knew, deep in my heart, that it didn’t matter how much I gave them, because it would only ever provide them with temporary help. What they needed most was the one thing I couldn’t give them—the opportunity to get out of the well. Maybe, just maybe, now for the first time in their lives, there was a glimpse of hope under Deng Xiaoping’s leadership. I had gone back home and had expected to leave them feeling light and optimistic. Instead I was leaving with a confused heart.
I sat on the plane and watched the thick clouds pass beneath. I had no desire to sleep. I could think only of my family. My family and friends lived so simply in China, but they made their happiness in their own way.
Mary was sleeping now. I looked at her kind and peaceful face. I felt truly blessed to have found her, to have her by my side, to continue our journey together. I felt truly blessed to have my family and friends. Their courage and love had always propelled me forward.
I had no idea what would happen next in our lives. My guilt at leaving my family in China began to be replaced with excitement. The road I had traveled so far had had so many detours. Nothing had been smooth or easy. I knew the road ahead wouldn’t be smooth or easy either, but the possibilities of the world were so vast. The pursuit of my dreams, the determination to achieve them, had given me a miraculous career and an enchanted life. No matter what lay ahead or behind, I had the love of my niang, my dia, my brothers, and my friends. I had Mary as my lifelong companion.
I looked out of the aircraft window into the darkening sky. I saw myself as a small boy, running barefoot through the commune fields. I saw myself as a Red Guard, and I saw myself as Mao’s last dancer. I thought of my niang’s extraordinary courage and unlimited love. I thought of my journey with all its twists and turns, and of how that journey had led me to the most precious thing of all, my freedom.
Back in America, our dance careers continued. Mary danced even better than before. Life seemed perfect. Our first child, Sophie, was born in 1989. She brought such