Part 23 (2/2)
”All right, you're not a good man then.” Shuyu couldn't stop her tears by now, because this was the first time he had ever said an endearment to her.
”Don't, don't cry, dear,” he went on. Somehow his vision blurred, and he saw Manna weeping before him, together with his sons. He rubbed his eyes and they vanished.
”I'm so happy, Lin, at last you came home,” Shuyu said and glanced at their daughter, whose eyes were traveling between her parents' faces. Shuyu believed that now he was showing his true feeling about her, because a man would speak his heart when drunk.
”Oh, I was so stupid.” He turned to his daughter. ”You know, Hua, Manna will die soon. She's a goner. Ah, she isn't a bad woman, but her heart can't last long.”
”Daddy, stop please!”
”All right, all right, I'll shut up.” But he embraced Shuyu with one arm, touching her face with his free hand, and asked, ”Is that you, Shuyu?”
”Yes, it's me, your wife Shuyu.”
”Sweetheart, will you wait for me? I'll come back to you soon. We are still, still one family, aren't we? Don't leave me. Manna's going to die in a year or two. Oh what-what should I do about the twins?”
”Please, don't talk like this. Don't worry your head about that.”
”Will you help me?”
”All right, we'll help you, I promise. Don't be so upset.” She turned to Hua and ordered, ”Get a bowl of vinegar, quick. Your dad is real drunk.”
He went on, ”My dear, I'm so sad. My heart is so full, about to burst. I can't stand this d.a.m.n life anymore!”
They made him drain a bowl of diluted vinegar. He fell on the warmer end of the brick bed, and an instant later began snoring tremulously. Having covered him with a thin cotton quilt, Shuyu told Hua, ”Go call the hospital and let that woman know your dad is too drunk to go back tonight.”
Wrapping a scarf around her head, Hua rushed out into the rustling snow. She ran toward the guard office, which had a telephone.
After breakfast with Shuyu and Hua, Lin returned to the hospital, his footsteps still infirm because of the hangover. Manna was relieved to see him back, saying, ”You should've taken care not to drink too much. You're no longer a young man.”
”I'm sorry.” He put on the table the duffel bag, stuffed with hazelnuts and chestnuts.
”I only slept two hours last night. How I worried!” she said.
”I didn't mean to stay there. I left the fish and the garlic stems at their door, but Hua saw me before I could leave.”
”How are they?”
”They're doing well, better than in the village.”
”That's good to know.”
Since the babies were sleeping, Lin and Manna began to prepare for the holiday. She stewed pork feet and a hen to make aspic, while he took their kettle out to do some scouring and descaling at the faucet. As the aluminum pot was boiling, Manna put roasted peanuts and sundry candies into two cookie boxes for the people who would come to pay them a holiday visit the next morning.
Hua came early in the afternoon. She looked so happy that even her eyes seemed to be smiling. While Lin and Manna were cleaning the home, Hua looked after the twins, humming a folk song to them and telling them the story of a big gray wolf and two little lambs, as though they could understand her. The room was filled with the babies' prattle and laughter. Hua cut a rooster and a prancing cat out of red paper, showed them to the babies, then pasted them on two windowpanes. Manna was pleased with the paper-cuts, which made their home more festive, especially to the eyes looking from the street.
With a broom tied to a bamboo pole, Lin was sweeping the cobwebs off the ceiling. As he was pa.s.sing by, his daughter patted his knee. Seeing Manna shaking a flour sack outside the front door, Hua said, ”Dad, my mom is very happy at home. She said she'd wait for you.”
Suddenly he remembered what he had babbled at dinner the night before. Embarra.s.sed, he asked, ”I made a fool of myself last night, didn't I?”
”No, no. We were so glad you came home. You should see Mom-she's a different person today. She said she'd come and see them in the spring.” She referred to the twins, her forefinger pointing at the crib.
A miserable feeling arose in Lin. He pondered for a moment, then said, ”Hua, your mother's getting old. Will you take good care of her?”
”Yes, I will, Dad.” She smiled.
”Tell her not to wait for me. I'm a useless man, not worth waiting for.”
”Don't be so hard on yourself, Dad. We'll always wait for you.”
He felt a clutching in his chest and turned away to sweep the kitchen ceiling, trying hard to hold back his tears. He was upset and touched at the same time. Outside, Manna was cheerfully wis.h.i.+ng ”Happy Spring Festival” to someone pa.s.sing by. She sounded so pleasant that Lin noticed her voice was still resonant with life.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.
The author wishes to express his thanks to Emory University for a grant that enabled him to complete an early draft of this book. He also wishes to thank his editor, LuAnn Walther, for her consideration and suggestions, and his agent, Lane Zachary, for her comments.
Ha Jin left his native China in 1985 to attend Brandeis University. He is the author of two books of poetry; three collections of stories, Under the Red Flag, Under the Red Flag, which won the Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction in 1996, which won the Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction in 1996, Ocean of Words, Ocean of Words, which won the PEN/Hemingway Award in 1997, and which won the PEN/Hemingway Award in 1997, and The Bridegroom; The Bridegroom; and and In the Pond, In the Pond, a novel. a novel. Waiting, Waiting, his second novel, won the 1999 National Book Award and the 2000 PEN/Faulkner Award. He lives near Atlanta, where he is a professor of English at Emory University. his second novel, won the 1999 National Book Award and the 2000 PEN/Faulkner Award. He lives near Atlanta, where he is a professor of English at Emory University.
ALSO BY HA JIN.
FICTION.
Under the Red Flag
Ocean of Words
In the Pond
The Bridegroom
POETRY.
Between Silences
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