Mulberry and Peach (21 page)

 

The blind masseuse is blowing her whistle again as she walks past the attic.

I write page after page of escape stories. Getting away to the mountains, getting away to the coast. How else could we escape?

Aunt Ts'ai is ill. The Ts'ai family has saved our lives. I must leave the attic to go and see her.

The most important consideration is his safety, says Chia-kang. It isn't time to repay them for what they have done for us. Anyway, Mr Ts'ai is a notorious sex fiend. As soon as I set foot outside the attic, I'll fall into his clutches. That old sex fiend has hidden us in his attic because he's got his eye on me. If he, Chia-kang, is caught and sent to prison, how will Sang-wa and I survive? He is lying on his
tatami
mat. He talks on and on. Beside his pillow is a spittoon. The spittoon is full of his urine.

It's dark out. I want to take the spittoon outside.

He grabs hold of my hair. It has now grown down to my waist. He tells me not to try to find excuses to go outside. He likes that pungent smell. It reminds him of sex.

 

I go downstairs to the door. The courtyard is completely dark. A white cat with a black tail is squatting on the wall.

I go back to the attic.

 

I go downstairs, out the door. Someone knocks on the main gate. I go up to the attic again.

 

I go out into the yard. In the lane a policeman speeds by on a bicycle.

I go back to the attic again.

 

I approach one of the windows at the Ts'ais' house. There's a light on. Uncle Ts'ai is sitting by his wife's bed. She is propped up on the bed. They are talking.

He says he can't get out of the island now. Earlier, before the Communists crossed the Yangtze River, they had proposed peace negotiations. He had written editorials in which he advocated continuing the war. The Communists branded him as a war criminal. Now in Taiwan, he is advocating free elections. The Nationalists also consider him ideologically suspect. A pedicab is always parked at the intersection. The driver is always napping in his cab. That driver must be watching him.

Aunt Ts'ai says the driver is really watching the people who are hiding out in the attic. She doesn't understand why he is taking the risk of concealing a family of criminals. He should convince us to turn ourselves in to the police. He should tell us to leave the attic. He should remain silent. He should cut off his ties with the outside world. He should do this, he should do that. A lot of ‘shoulds'.

I go back to the attic.

 

Aunt Ts'ai has cancer of the liver. I will risk everything to go see her.

Evening. Chia-kang and Sang-wa are asleep. At last I go out.

Uncle Ts'ai is alone in his study. I halt in the doorway when I see the mirror on the wall. It's a cheap mirror that warps its image. The farther away you stand, the more distorted your face becomes. He also sees the distorted face of the woman in the mirror. He turns in terror and stares at me. He tells me to come in. I don't know how to walk anymore. Hands. Feet. Body. All out of place. He tells me to sit down. My mouth moves up and down several times. I can't make a sound. I sit on the sofa, just like people outside the attic sit. I am three crooked sections. My torso rests on the back of the couch. My buttocks sit on the cushion of the couch. My feet rest on the floor. Each has its own part. The parts that should curve, do curve. The parts that should be straight, are straight.

He says he is pleased that I have come out of the attic. He has been thinking about advising us to leave the attic for a long time. But you can't tell other people what to do. They must decide things for themselves. Chia-kang should turn himself in to the police. Even if he has to serve a prison sentence, it would be for a limited term. Living in the attic is a sentence for life. Completely meaningless.

I explain. I am used to life in the attic. In the attic, all greed, anger, craving and love disappear. It would be traumatic if I changed my life. I'm afraid of changing. I have only come out to repay him for saving our lives. I want to help them in their time of difficulty. I will risk coming here every day to help them. I am speaking very slowly and
softly. Sometimes I have to pause awhile before going on. As soon as I finish speaking I stand up.

He wants me to sit a little longer. He has just sent Aunt Ts'ai to the hospital and he needs to talk to someone.

The blind masseuse's whistle is shrieking again.

I go back to the attic before midnight. It's safer there.

 

It's dark.

I am walking down the road. One, two. One, two. One, two. My feet touch ground, one step after another. I pick up a pebble. The pebble rubs against my palm. I go on walking like that. Walking. Walking. Walking.

I pass the pedicab at the intersection. The police station. The funeral parlour.

I pass an obstetrician's clinic. A white sign with black characters hangs over the door. CONTRACEPTIVE INOCULATION. SCIENTIFIC CONTRACEPTION. FREE CONTRACEPTION ADVICE. MISCARRIAGE TREATMENT. RECONSTRUCTED BIRTH CANAL.

I pass a drug store. There's an ad in the window showing two Westerners talking on the telephone. The Westerner with black hair calls out wryly, ‘Hey, old Chang, ha-ha, you know this Male 10 stuff has male hormones in it.' The white-haired Westerner, his eyes wide open, replies, ‘Really? Then I'll buy a bottle and replenish my strength.'

I pass a newspaper stand. The headline is ‘VICTORY SOON IN OUR STRUGGLE WITH THE COMMUNISTS FOR THE MAINLAND.'

I pass a school. The sign says: ADVANCETO HIGH SCHOOL. ADVANCE TO THE UNIVERSITY. HUMANITIES, SCIENCE, MEDICAL SCHOOL, AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL. EXPERIMENTAL CLASSES, ADVANCED CLASSES, SPECIALISED CLASSES. TEST OF ENGLISH AS A FOREIGN LANGUAGE FOR STUDY ABROAD.

I pass an airline office. A yellow airplane hangs in the window. The nose of the plane slants toward the corner of the window. Black letters are painted on the body of the plane. The airplane's passenger service extends to major cities all over the world. Fast and Safe. Courteous Service.

I pass the intersection. OPEN YOUR HEART TO THE HOLY SPIRIT, black characters on a white dress flash past me. A woman's head sticks out from a white collar. A missionary. She smiles and hands a leaflet to me. SIN AND REDEMPTION. Please come hear the holy word. Please believe in the Lord.

A hand grabs my arm. On the wrist is a huge round watch with a luminous dial. The time on the watch is 8:20. A policeman is holding me by the arm. A train thunders past in front of me. Characters painted on the box cars, ‘Beware of Communist Spies' flash by. The railroad crossing bar has been lowered in front of me. I duck under the bar and try to scurry across the tracks. The policeman says that the crossing bar is lowered to warn pedestrians and cars that a train is coming. Next time, remember that. Don't play around with your life.

A bizarre world.

 

I am walking down the long hospital corridor. The lights are glaring. At the end of the corridor is the morgue. I walk halfway down the corridor and then turn right. Past the patients' rooms. In a window of the building opposite a woman is crying.

I am standing in the doorway of Room Number Four. Aunt Ts'ai is propped up in bed. I am calling to her. She doesn't answer. She stares at me as though she is looking at a ghost.

I pick up a brush from the table next to the bed and brush her hair. I smooth down her hair with my hand. I braid her sparse hair into a pigtail.

She reaches out to feel my face. Arm. Hand.

She says she can feel me, so I must be real. As she says this, she squeezes my finger hard.

I tell her it really hurts.

 

My life splits in half. Daytime in the attic. Night-time at the hospital.

 

Chia-kang is lying on his
tatami
mat. His heart is racing. Head aching. He has a pain in his side. Back hurts. All his muscles are sore. Constipated. He says he's not going to make it.

He wants me to give him an enema. He squats over the spittoon. He wants me to look between his legs at his bottom. Has it come out? Has it come out yet? He is asking over and over. I want to turn around and vomit. He wants me to stick it in again. Stick it in. Stick it in. He shouts at me.

He blames me for destroying his whole life. I wasn't a virgin, he married ‘a broken jar'. His illusions about me have been shattered. His illusions about everyone in the world have been shattered. That lousy bastard Ts'ai has hidden us in his attic, just so he can make believe he is God. Then Chia-kang brings up the subject of Refugee Student in Chü-t'ang Gorge.

SANG-WA'S DIARY