Song of the Silk Road (29 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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BOOK: Song of the Silk Road
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I began to ardently recite the Lord’s Prayer and the Nammo Amita Fo. First the sinking sand and now this, in less than a week, and all my fault! I tried to gather my scattered spirits and convince myself that what I needed at this critical moment was to focus, not indulge in guilt.
Then suddenly Master Soaring Crane’s saying popped in my mind:
Your lovers are mutually destructive with
the element of water. It’s their fate.
I should have heeded the master’s warning and shouldn’t have asked Alex to go to the pond with me!
I kept praying and reciting till I gradually felt myself calming down. I also became aware for the first time of the other people waiting in the lobby—a mother cooing to her crying, tomato-faced baby; a young man sitting on a bench and falling asleep, his head nodding like a fishing rod; a sixtyish man walking cautiously, his hand holding a bag of urine dangling from his waist. The whole place stank of a mixture of medicine, human sweat, and death, its stale air punctured by wailing patients, shouting nurses, crying children.
As I was watching, the photographer’s voice rose next to my ear. “This is for you.”
He was handing me a cup of hot tea.
“Thanks.”
I took a tentative sip as I studied the stranger’s face. He looked to be around forty, solidly built, broad faced, thick necked with a confident manner. I thanked him for saving Alex’s life.
“Don’t mention it. Somebody had to help.”
“I didn’t even have a chance to ask your name.”
“Akira Muramachi.”
“Japanese?”
He nodded.
“I’m Lily Lin, Chinese. . . . What do you think? Will he be all right?”
Just then I was startled by a tap on my shoulder.
It was a doctor in a wrinkled white coat. “Miss, you’re the foreigner’s friend?”
“Yes, is he OK?” My heart began its ascending roller coaster ride.
He put on a grave expression. “This is very serious, but there is no danger to his life.”
The ride now swiftly descended to level ground as I deeply exhaled. The Japanese photographer gave me a comforting pat on my shoulder.
The doctor pushed up his thick glasses on his flat nose and for some reason gave me a chiding look. “Your friend has fifteen stitches on his scalp but nothing serious, just surface injuries, and luckily he didn’t have a skull fracture. However, he was chilled by the cold water and might get pneumonia. He’s been coughing a lot, so we have to keep him here overnight.”
“Can I see him now?”
“Yes, but he’s asleep, so no talking.”
“I understand, doctor. Thank you very much.”
“You have to inform his parents or relatives very soon.”
“Yes, doctor, I will, and thanks again.”
After the doctor walked away, I asked the Japanese, “Since you’re also a doctor, would you mind coming with me?”
“Of course not.”
28
Two Nurses
I
nside the hospital room, there were four beds. Three were empty but unmade with dirty sheets. The Japanese doctor and I went up to Alex and quietly sat down beside him. Seeing that he was asleep, I gently laid my hand on his shoulder, saddened by his sudden smallness and vulnerability. I blinked back tears and let the Japanese doctor check on him.
When he finished, I asked, “He’s all right?”
“I think so.”
“You can’t be sure?”
“Since there’s not much equipment here, I have to go by examining him. The doctor said no skull fracture so they must have done an X-ray. I will try to have a look at it.” He paused to cast Alex another look, then, “I’ll leave you two alone while I try to find the X-ray. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.”
Alex was still asleep, so I planted a kiss on his forehead and quietly left the room. In the hallway I paced restlessly waiting for the Japanese doctor to return. Finally, he reappeared, smiling as he walked down the hall toward me.
“Don’t worry, Miss Lin.” He patted my hand. “The skull films look fine. I am sure your friend will be all right.”
“Please just call me Lily, and thank you. . . .” I tried but failed to recall his name.
He smiled. “Akira Muramachi.”
“Thank you again. I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Dr. Muramachi.”
“Akira, please.”
I tried to come up with some appropriate conversation. “So, Akira, you’re also a photographer?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you from?”
“I’m now practicing in Tokyo, but I trained in Boston.”
“That’s why you speak English so well.”
“So the young man is your . . .”
“My boyfriend Alex.”
He glanced at his watch. “All right, I better leave. I’m going to get a taxi to go back to my hotel. Can I give you a lift?”
“No, but thanks. I want to stay here to keep Alex company in case he wakes up.”
“Of course, but where are you going to sleep?”
“I don’t think I can sleep, anyway.”
“All right then,” he said, then took out a card, wrote something down, and handed it to me. “Here’s my hotel’s phone and my room number. In case you need me for anything. Please don’t hesitate to call. I also want your friend to recover, so I am more than happy to help.”
“I will, and thank you so much, Akira.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll come back here tomorrow morning to check on him.”
“It’s very kind of you, Akira, but you really don’t have to . . .”
“See you tomorrow.” He smiled, picked up his camera bag, and walked toward the exit.
I read his card. Akira Muramachi, MD. Neurosurgeon, Tokyo University Hospital.
I made a mental addition: And a Japanese angel in white.
Now feeling more hopeful, I stood up and went to check on Alex. Seeing that he was still sound asleep, I left the room and walked to the nurses’ station where two young women, one kind faced and the other plump and sour looking, were busy talking and shifting charts.
I went up to Kind Face. “Miss nurse, can you tell me where I can use a phone?”
She pointed to a dilapidated booth by the entrance.
“I need to call international.”
“International?” Both women stared at me as if I were an alien.
“Yes, to the United States.”
“United States?” Now the two cast each other surprised looks.
Then Kind Face asked, “But why you want to call so far away?”
Plump watched me curiously.
I pointed to Alex’s room. “I need to call his parents to tell them about their son.”
Plump leaned over. “But his bill has already been taken care of.”
“No, that’s not possible. I didn’t even know I had to pay first.”
Kind Face smiled. “Not you, your boyfriend.”
“How could he have paid? He’s injured and has been sleeping the whole time!”
The nursing duo exchanged puzzled glances.
Plump looked at me with an incredulous expression. “You mean that injured American your boyfriend? We thought he’s your student, learn Chinese with you. Ha!”
I snapped, “Don’t I have the right to have a young boyfriend?”
She chuckled. “Miss, this is China.”
What the hell did that mean? But I asked, “Who paid then?”
“The one just left. Paid a lot. Three hundred
renminbi!
”
Akira Muramachi paid? How odd.
“When did he do that?”
“When you were inside the hospital room with your boyfriend,” Kind Face chimed in. “Miss, we just think that a Chinese is more suitable for you.”
I corrected her. “That one is Japanese.”
Plump said, “Why is he not your boyfriend?”
What a question.
“He’s not even a friend, just a stranger.”
“A Japanese paid three hundred
renminbi
for an American, or a Chinese, he doesn’t even know?” Plump said, then widened her eyes while covering her mouth to feign surprise. “Maybe not really Japanese.”
Now it was Kind Face’s turn to comment. “You know, Japanese liked to kill Chinese. My great-grandfather was murdered by Japanese soldiers during the Nanjing Massacre.”
Plump sent her comrade a chiding look, chuckling. “Hey, there are good Japanese, too, especially those who feel guilty of what their ancestors did. Such as this one. Paying three hundred
renminbi
for a stranger, an American.
Wah!
”
A surge of respect rose inside me, not only that Akira had saved Alex’s life but also that he paid for the hospital fees, even though it was only forty U.S. dollars. It was not the amount but the care and consideration that touched me.
I put on a smile for the two nurses. “Miss nurses, please, I really need to make this important phone call.”
Plump cut me off. “Miss, when my uncle got married, he and his brother had to ride a donkey and a motorbike to deliver the invitation cards fifteen days earlier.”
“Sorry about your uncles’ inconvenience, but can I borrow a phone card from either of you? Of course I’ll pay you back. . . . double. How’s that?” I pleaded.
Kind Face blurted out, “Sorry, we don’t have one. We never call long distance here.”
Plump winked and nudged her colleague’s shoulder, then smiled flirtatiously at me. “Actually I do have one.”
“You do?” Kind Face gave her a surprised look.
“I go get it. Be right back.”
Kind Face said, “Hey, you can’t just leave. . . .”
Plump pleaded, “Good sister, just fifteen minutes. If Dr. Wong asks, tell him I have woman’s discomfort and will be right back.” After that, she vanished like a wisp of smoke.
I went back to the bench and sat down.
In exactly fifteen minutes, Plump materialized in the hall, puffing and sucking in big gulps of air. She dashed up to me with her fleshy hand waving a phone card. “Here you are. One hundred
renminbi.
”
“How come so expensive?”
“You said double.”
“All right, I’ll take it.” I fished the bills from my pocket, counted them, then placed them in her outstretched hand.
“Thank you, miss,” she said, then hurried back behind the nurses’ station.
As I was walking toward the phone booth, I heard Kind Face’s excited voice. “
Wah!
You make a fortune in fifteen minutes! What about a treat for dinner tonight?”
I thought it would be so hard to get a connection to the States that I was very nervous and had to keep telling myself to be patient. But to my surprise, this time the line was connected only after five rings. I immediately recognized Donna’s voice—like cold ashes long forgotten at the bottom of an antique incense burner.
“Donna? This is Lily Lin calling from Urumqi.”
“Alex there with you?”
“Yes.”
The impersonal voice piped up again. “Why didn’t he call himself? Can I talk to him?”
“I’m afraid not. Alex . . . had an accident.”
“Oh, my God, what happened? Anything serious? Is he all right?” Her voice was suddenly filled with fear and concern.
Good. At least some hot cinders were finally shooting out from this pile of cold ashes.
“Don’t worry, he’s fine now and asleep. He fell into a lake and got chilled.” I left out the head stitches, in case that would stir her imagination, assuming she had any.
The voice, now fierce and demanding, shot an octave higher. “How did that happen?!”
“Alex was accidentally knocked over by a few frolicking teenagers,” I lied.
Silence.
I said, “Donna, can you tell Frank about this?”
She didn’t answer my question but said, “Alex really shouldn’t have gone to that part of China. He just won’t listen. It’s because of you that he . . .”
There was a lot I could think of to say, like, “Your son is a grown man and if you think you even have the tiniest shred of control over his adult mind and body, then you’re either damn stupid or a downright retard!” or “Too bad I’m the one he loves, not you. You old, cold, wrinkly, ugly, pretentious, mean-mouthed, and icy-hearted bitch!” But of course I swallowed these would-be-firecracker-like strings of words. This was not the time to be antagonistic. After all, Alex did need his parents’ help now.
I tried my best to sound calm and friendly. “Don’t worry, Donna, the doctor said he’s OK.”
But Donna’s shrill voice attacked my ear membrane from eight thousand miles away. “I don’t trust any doctors in China. They don’t know what they’re doing!”
I said, “I don’t know about Chinese doctors, but a Japanese doctor who trained in Boston also checked on Alex and said he’s fine. In fact, he was the one who rescued him.”
Silence.
Finally she spoke, her voice deflated. “All right. I’ll tell Frank about this, and we’ll book a ticket to come to Alex as soon as possible. Tell my son we are coming right away.”
“Thanks, Donna,” I said, then told her the hospital’s address and phone number.
The telephone conversation, though it lasted only a few minutes, exhausted me. I walked back to thank Plump for the card and told her I wanted to stay with Alex overnight.
“Sorry, miss, hospital visit over. Come back tomorrow.”
I looked at my watch: 9:45 PM.
But I couldn’t just leave Alex by himself. Besides, since the truck was left at the pond, how could I get a taxi and find a hotel? So, pretending to look for the washroom, I left the counter and walked through some corridors until I spotted a bench. Thinking I would sneak in later to see Alex, I stretched out and was soon asleep.
I felt a slap on my shoulder and opened my eyes to see a young woman in a white uniform looking down at me, smiling. “Hey, miss, good morning.”
It was Plump.
“You didn’t go to see your boyfriend?”
“No, not yet.” I peeked at my watch and realized it was six o’clock in the morning. I was so exhausted that I’d slept through the night.
She winked at me. “You slept here all night?”
Before I knew how to respond, she spoke again. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, not even my comrade.”
I suddenly realized since yesterday she’d made a small fortune from me, she probably didn’t want to kill the hen who laid the golden egg. And I was right.
“Anything you want? Just tell me.”
“Thank you, not now, but maybe later.”
She smiled again, this time mischievously. “He’s very good looking, but very young, your little brother boyfriend.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t tell if the last remark was meant as praise, a comment, a criticism, an insult, or a lament. Or all of the above. “Can I go see him now?”
“Of course! And don’t worry, he’s fine. I just finished feeding him chicken and vegetable porridge. He looks sad but handsome.”
A current of jealousy surged inside me. It should be me feeding Alex, not this fat, greedy bitch!
She winked at me. “See you later, and take good care of your little handsome!”
Once she wriggled her mahjong-table-wide bottom away from my sight, I got up and hurried to Alex’s room.
Alex was sitting up in bed with a lost expression. Then he spotted me, and a sad smile bloomed on his face while he made a gesture for me to sit next to him on the bed.
“Alex, how are you feeling?” I planted a kiss on his face as I lowered myself onto the bed.

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