Wild Ginger - Anchee Min [19]
She looked in my direction. But she didn't see me. Her eyes were telling me that she was in another world, or was going there. She looked unafraid. I remembered what my mother had told me about how one became insane: "One thought got knotted in the ball of nerves."
"Keep walking, Maple!" Wild Ginger shouted.
I marched on. My legs didn't feel like mine. As I passed the gate of the lane, a sudden convulsion squeezed my guts. It was like a blunt cleaver cutting through my skin. I stopped and turned around. I ran back toward Wild Ginger. All my thoughts came back and rushed into one point where reason no longer existed. "Stab me, Wild Ginger! Stab me! You devil!" I threw myself at her.
Bursting with fury, Wild Ginger raised her abacus and smashed it against the garbage dump. When the beads rolled all over, she came and grabbed me by the collar. She stared, her eyebrows twisted into a knot.
What was I seeing? They were a blind man's eyes. Big and wide but without focus.
I was numb at first, then slowly I felt that I was breaking like a ceramic wok on a hot stove—the liquid seeped through the cracks to sizzle in the tongues of flame.
"You are the only friend I've got," my voice pleaded involuntarily. "I can't take Hot Pepper's umbrella anymore. Wild Ginger, I am not as strong as you are. I need you. I can't have you go mad. You must not go mad..."
The hand on my collar loosened. The blind man's eyes came back into focus. Tears welled up and gushed down her pale cheeks.
"Maple, my mother ... hanged herself."
9
Wild Ginger tried to appear calm after her mother died, but the sorrow weighed her spirit down. She came to school every day wearing a black armband and a white paper flower in her hair. She showed little grief in public. She competed with Hot Pepper on Mao quotation reciting and laughed when she scored high. I observed her quietly. I found her smile forced. I tried to stay as close to her as possible.
Although Wild Ginger no longer had to sweep the lane for her mother, she faced serious financial trouble. The neighborhood committee allowed her to continue to live in her house but would provide no aid for her expenses. She had to come up with money for utility bills and she had no relatives—all of them had separated themselves from her to avoid suspicion in order to protect their own families. Learning the situation, Mrs. Cheng talked to the authorities. She mentioned Wild Ginger's score on Mao study, which was the highest in the district. The principal agreed to reduce Wild Ginger's tuition from twelve yuan to eight yuan. Still Wild Ginger had to come up with the rest of the money.
My mother offered Wild Ginger food in our house. "There won't be much, but you can eat what we eat."
Wild Ginger declined the offer. "I have found something to do to earn money," she said to me. "I found a job as a seafood preparer. I have already spoken to the neighborhood committee and obtained a permit to set up a stall at the market from three to seven in the morning. When people buy seafood I will prepare it for them in exchange for unwanted fish skin, heads, tails, and intestines. I will sell the beltfish scales to the chemical refinery for two cents a pound; I will sell the fish heads, tails, and intestines to families with cats for one cent a pile, I will sell the squid spines to herb shops for two cents a pound. And I will cut the butts of snails for three cents a pound."
Although her voice was filled with enthusiasm, my tears welled up. I knew exactly what kind of hardship she would have to endure to carry out her plans. Before everything else, she had to get up at two o'clock each morning to secure herself a working spot. She had to fight for her business among other seafood preparers. The winter had come. It had been fifteen below zero. When I got up to go to the market at five I got frostbite all over my hands and feet. I was outside for