Wild Ginger - Anchee Min [42]
Wild Ginger's seat was vacant. She had been absent often since she became the commander in chief of the Red Guard. Owing to lack of sleep, she had grown thin. However, her spirits still seemed high. She spent her day going from school to school promoting Maoism. She lectured around neighborhoods, markets, factories, on public buses, and wherever there were people. She displayed her skill by reciting hundreds of quotations and sang the quotation songs. Her grades in math dropped. It didn't bother her. She believed that if one was a Maoist, one would naturally possess the power to cope with the world. Her best speech continued to be about her meeting with Chairman Mao. Although she had recounted the story hundreds of times, she never grew tired of it and told it vividly. Her emotion affected the audience so much that people were in tears by the end. The crowd rushed to shake hands with her. By touching her, they felt that they had touched Mao.
When night came, Wild Ginger wrestled with her other self. Each evening she returned to the same field to combat her "human weakness." She and Evergreen read hours on end and worked on the papers and speeches. They behaved as if the night of passion never existed. It was hard for me to tell what was on Evergreen's mind. I noticed that something had changed inside me. I couldn't explain why I not only returned to the closet but wanted to stay! I could have walked out for good. All I had to do was to say no to Wild Ginger. But I didn't. I couldn't. I had to be here to find out who I was and what I wanted for myself.
Sunday night Wild Ginger's exhaustion overcame her will—she fell into a dead sleep during the reading. The ink pen she was holding smeared. Struggling to mark the lines in her notebook, her face fell flat onto the page. Evergreen tried to wake her, but it was impossible. He then tried to wipe her nose. Still she wouldn't wake. After holding her head up for a while Evergreen carried her to the bed. Again he tried to shake her. She slept like a dead person. He laid her down and covered her with a blanket. Then he went back and sat on the bench. For the next few minutes he stared at the Mao book.
I became nervous. I sensed something. Before I could think further I heard him say, "Would you come out?"
Involuntarily I uttered a no.
"May I come in?"
I jumped away from the peephole. My duty told me that I ought to say no, ought to go and wake up Wild Ginger, or simply run.
But I didn't do any of these.
I let him walk right into the closet, right into my soul, and change me forever.
17
My arms opened themselves to him as he slipped into the closet, my body receiving him without hesitation. He didn't speak. Neither did I. There was no need. The moment he stepped into the darkness, the world of Mao was behind us. The blossom of the spring fell into my arms as he devoured me. I couldn't get enough of him. His hair smelled of the East China Sea, and I recalled him telling me once that he worked at a seaweed plantation on weekends. He caressed me. My insides cried out in joy. We held each other and I felt him swelling. Time ceased.
I no longer realized where I was.
We lay in silence. Returning to reality was a shock. As he stepped out of the closet I was terrified to think of what would happen next.
There was no movement. Wild Ginger was still sound asleep.
Evergreen left the house while I still lay in the closet. I heard the door shut. It was two o'clock in the morning. The sound of the clock striking the hour was unusually loud to my ears. I crawled