The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts (19 page)

“You’ve got to come with me. I don’t know what I would say.”

“I think it would be dramatic for you to go by yourself. He opens the door. And there you are—alive and standing on the porch with all your luggage. ‘Remember me?’ you say. Call him by his own name. He’ll faint with shock. Maybe he’ll say, ‘No. Go away.’ But you march right in. You push him aside and go in. Then you sit down in the most important chair, and you take off your shoes because you belong.”

“Don’t you think he’ll welcome me?”

“She certainly wasn’t very imaginative,” thought Brave Orchid.

“It’s against the law to have two wives in this country,” said Moon Orchid. “I read that in the newspaper.”

“But it’s probably against the law in Singapore too. Yet our brother has two, and his sons have two each. The law doesn’t matter.”

“I’m scared. Oh, let’s turn back. I don’t want to see him. Suppose he throws me out? Oh, he will. He’ll throw me out. And he’ll have a right to throw me out, coming here, disturbing him, not waiting for him to invite me. Don’t leave me by myself. You can talk louder than I can.”

“Yes, coming with you would be exciting. I can charge through the door and say, ‘Where is your wife?’ And he’ll answer, ‘Why, she’s right here.’ And I’ll say, ‘This isn’t your wife. Where is Moon Orchid? I’ve come to see her. I’m her first sister, and I’ve come to see that she is being well taken care of.’ Then I accuse him of murderous things; I’d have him arrested—and you pop up to his rescue. Or I can take a look at his wife, and I say, ‘Moon Orchid, how young you’ve gotten.’ And he’ll say, ‘This isn’t Moon Orchid.’ And you come in and say, ‘No. I am.’ If nobody’s home, we’ll climb in a window. When they get back we’ll be at home; you the hostess, and I your guest. You’ll be serving me cookies and coffee. And when he comes in I’ll say, ‘Well, I see your husband is home. Thank you so much for the visit.’ And you say, ‘Come again anytime.’ Don’t make violence. Be routine.”

Sometimes Moon Orchid got into the mood. “Maybe I could be folding towels when he comes in. He’ll think I’m so clever. I’ll get to them before his wife does.” But the further they came down the great central valley—green fields changing to fields of cotton on dry, brown stalks, first a stray bush here and there, then thick—the more Moon Orchid wanted to turn back. “No. I can’t go through with this.” She tapped her nephew on the shoulder. “Please turn
back. Oh, you must turn the car around. I should be returning to China. I shouldn’t be here at all. Let’s go back. Do you understand me?”

“Don’t go back,” Brave Orchid ordered her son. “Keep going. She can’t back out now.”

“What do you want me to do? Make up your minds,” said the son, who was getting impatient.

“Keep going,” said Brave Orchid. “She’s come this far, and we can’t waste all this driving. Besides, we have to take your cousin back to her own house in Los Angeles. We have to drive to Los Angeles anyway.”

“Can I go inside and meet my grandchildren?”

“Yes,” said her daughter.

“We’ll see them after you straighten out things with your husband,” said Brave Orchid.

“What if he hits me?”

“I’ll hit
him
. I’ll protect you. I’ll hit him back. The two of us will knock him down and make him listen.” Brave Orchid chuckled as if she were looking forward to a fight. But when she saw how terrified Moon Orchid was, she said, “It won’t come to a fight. You mustn’t start imagining things. We’ll simply walk up to the door. If he answers, you’ll say, ‘I have decided to come live with you in the Beautiful Nation.’ If
she
answers the door, you’ll say, ‘You must be Little Wife. I am Big Wife.’ Why, you could even be generous. ‘I’d like to see our husband, please,’ you say. I brought my wig,” said Brave Orchid. “Why don’t you disguise yourself as a beautiful lady? I brought lipstick and powder too. And at some dramatic point, you pull off the wig and say, ‘I am Moon Orchid.’”

“That is a terrible thing to do. I’d be so scared. I am so scared.”

“I want to be dropped off at my house first,” said the niece. “I told my family I’d be home to make lunch.”

“All right,” said Brave Orchid, who had tried to talk her niece into confronting her father five years ago, but all she had done was write him a letter telling him she was in
Los Angeles. He could visit her, or she could visit him if he wanted to see her, she had suggested. But he had not wanted to see her.

When the car stopped in front of her daughter’s house, Moon Orchid asked, “May I get out to meet my grandchildren?”

“I told you no,” said Brave Orchid. “If you do that you’ll stay here, and it’ll take us weeks to get up our courage again. Let’s save your grandchildren as a reward. You take care of this other business, and you can play with your grandchildren without worry. Besides, you have some children to meet.”

“Grandchildren are more wonderful than children.”

After they left the niece’s suburb, the son drove them to the address his mother had given him, which turned out to be a skyscraper in downtown Los Angeles.

“Don’t park in front,” said his mother. “Find a side street. We’ve got to take him by surprise. We mustn’t let him spot us ahead of time. We have to catch the first look on his face.”

“Yes, I think I would like to see the look on his face.”

Brave Orchid’s son drove up and down the side streets until he found a parking space that could not be seen from the office building.

“You have to compose yourself,” said Brave Orchid to her sister. “You must be calm as you walk in. Oh, this is most dramatic—in broad daylight and in the middle of the city. We’ll sit here for a while and look at his building.”

“Does he own that whole building?”

“I don’t know. Maybe so.”

“Oh, I can’t move. My knees are shaking so much I won’t be able to walk. He must have servants and workers in there, and they’ll stare at me. I can’t bear it.”

Brave Orchid felt a tiredness drag her down. She had to baby everyone. The traffic was rushing, Los Angeles noon-hot, and she suddenly felt carsick. No trees. No birds. Only city. “It must be the long drive,” she thought. They had
not eaten lunch, and the sitting had tired her out. Movement would strengthen her; she needed movement. “I want you to stay here with your aunt while I scout that building,” she instructed her son. “When I come back, we’ll work out a plan.” She walked around the block. Indeed, she felt that her feet stepping on the earth, even when the earth was covered with concrete, gained strength from it. She breathed health from the air, though it was full of gasoline fumes. The bottom floor of the building housed several stores. She looked at the clothes and jewelry on display, picking out some for Moon Orchid to have when she came into her rightful place.

Brave Orchid rushed along beside her reflection in the glass. She used to be young and fast; she was still fast and felt young. It was mirrors, not aches and pains, that turned a person old, everywhere white hairs and wrinkles. Young people felt pain.

The building was a fine one; the lobby was chrome and glass, with ashtray stands and plastic couches arranged in semicircles. She waited for the elevator to fill before she got in, not wanting to operate a new machine by herself. Once on the sixth floor she searched alertly for the number in her address book.

How clean his building was. The rest rooms were locked, and there were square overhead lights. No windows, though. She did not like the quiet corridors with carpets but no windows. They felt like tunnels. He must be very wealthy. Good. It would serve a rich man right to be humbled. She found the door with his number on it; there was also American lettering on the glass. Apparently this was his business office. She hadn’t thought of the possibility of catching him at his job. Good thing she had decided to scout. If they had arrived at his house, they would not have found him. Then they would have had to deal with
her
. And she would have phoned him, spoiled the surprise, and gotten him on her side. Brave Orchid knew how the little wives maneuvered; her father had had two little wives.

She entered the office, glad that it was a public place
and she needn’t knock. A roomful of men and women looked up from their magazines. She could tell by their eagerness for change that this was a waiting room. Behind a sliding glass partition sat a young woman in a modern nurse’s uniform, not a white one, but a light blue pantsuit with white trim. She sat before an elegant telephone and an electric typewriter. The wallpaper in her cubicle was like aluminum foil, a metallic background for a tall black frame around white paint with dashes of red. The wall of the waiting room was covered with burlap, and there were plants in wooden tubs. It was an expensive waiting room. Brave Orchid approved. The patients looked well dressed, not sickly and poor.

“Hello. May I help you?” said the receptionist, parting the glass. Brave Orchid hesitated, and the receptionist took this to mean that she could not speak English. “Just a moment,” she said, and went into an inner room. She brought back another woman, who wore a similar uniform except that it was pink trimmed in white. This woman’s hair was gathered up into a bunch of curls at the back of her head; some of the curls were fake. She wore round glasses and false eyelashes, which gave her an American look. “Have you an appointment?” she asked in poor Chinese; she spoke less like a Chinese than Brave Orchid’s children. “My husband, the doctor, usually does not take drop-in patients,” she said. “We’re booked up for about a month.” Brave Orchid stared at her pink-painted fingernails gesticulating, and thought she probably would not have given out so much information if she weren’t so clumsy with language.

“I have the flu,” Brave Orchid said.

“Perhaps we can give you the name of another doctor,” said this woman, who was her sister-in-law. “This doctor is a brain surgeon and doesn’t work with flu.” Actually she said, “This doctor cuts brains,” a child making up the words as she went along. She wore pink lipstick and had blue eyelids like the ghosts.

Brave Orchid, who had been a surgeon too, thought that her brother-in-law must be a clever man. She herself could not practice openly in the United States because the training here was so different and because she could never learn English. He was smart enough to learn ghost ways. She would have to be clever to outwit him. She needed to retreat and plan some more. “Oh, well, I’ll go to another doctor, then,” she said, and left.

She needed a new plan to get her sister and brother-in-law together. This nurse-wife was so young, and the office was so rich with wood, paintings, and fancy telephones, that Brave Orchid knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t get the fare together that he hadn’t sent for his old wife. He had abandoned her for this modern, heartless girl. Brave Orchid wondered if the girl knew that her husband had a Chinese wife. Perhaps she should ask her.

But no, she mustn’t spoil the surprise by giving any hints. She had to get away before he came out into the corridor, perhaps to go to one of the locked rest rooms. As she walked back to her sister, she noted corners and passageways, broom closets, other offices—ambush spots. Her sister could crouch behind a drinking fountain and wait for him to get thirsty. Waylay him.

“I met his second wife,” she said, opening the car door.

“What’s she like?” asked Moon Orchid. “Is she pretty?”

“She’s very pretty and very young; just a girl. She’s his nurse. He’s a doctor like me. What a terrible, faithless man. You’ll have to scold him for years, but first you need to sit up straight. Use my powder. Be as pretty as you can. Otherwise you won’t be able to compete. You do have one advantage, however. Notice he has her be his worker. She is like a servant, so you have room to be the wife. She works at the office; you work at the house. That’s almost as good as having two houses. On the other hand, a man’s real partner is the hardest worker. You couldn’t learn nursing, could you? No, I guess not. It’s almost as difficult as doing laundry. What a petty man he turned out to be, giving up
responsibility for a pretty face.” Brave Orchid reached for the door handle. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“To go up there, of course. We’re at his office, and I think we ought to be very direct. There aren’t any trees to hide you, no grass to soften your steps. So, you walk right into his office. You make an announcement to the patients and the fancy nurses. You say, ‘I am the doctor’s wife. I’m going to see my husband.’ Then you step to the inner door and enter. Don’t knock on any doors. Don’t listen if the minor wife talks to you. You walk past her without changing pace. When you see him, you say, ‘Surprise!’ You say, ‘Who is that woman out there? She claims to be your wife.’ That will give him a chance to deny her on the spot.”

“Oh, I’m so scared. I can’t move. I can’t do that in front of all those people—like a stage show. I won’t be able to talk.” And sure enough, her voice was fading into a whisper. She was shivering and small in the corner of the seat.

“So. A new plan, then,” said Brave Orchid, looking at her son, who had his forehead on the steering wheel. “You, she said. “I want you to go up to his office and tell your uncle that there has been an accident out in the street. A woman’s leg has been broken, and she’s crying in pain. He’ll have to come. You bring him to the car.”

“Mother.”

“Mm,” mused Brave Orchid. “Maybe we ought to put your aunt in the middle of the street, and she can lie down with her leg bent under her.” But Moon Orchid kept shaking her head in trembling no’s.

“Why don’t you push her down in the intersection and pour ketchup on her? I’ll run over her a little bit,” said her son.

“Stop being silly,” she said. “You Americans don’t take life seriously.”

“Mother, this is ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Go. Do what I tell you,” she said.

“I think your schemes will be useless, Mother.”

“What do you know about Chinese business?” she said. “Do as I say.”

“Don’t let him bring the nurse,” said Moon Orchid.

“Don’t you want to see what she looks like?” asked Brave Orchid. “Then you’ll know what he’s giving up for you.”

“No. No. She’s none of my business. She’s unimportant.”