The Fourth Day of November

by Mark Campbell

  “Can we talk?” Lee asked pulling out a chair and hinting for me to take a seat.

  Tired or not, I gave my wife her time and my undivided attention.

  “Alistair, I've watched very closely the hours you've put in at work these last couple of months. Personally, I worry every night, wondering if the police will knock on our door and report that you've been in an incident. This is becoming unbearable.”

  Lee was right. On many nights, the lights of oncoming cars abruptly awoke me from the unthinkable. The time had come to stop tempting fate. I couldn’t blame Lee for wanting to make things like they had been.

  “What do you think I should do Lee?” I inquired.

  “That’s not my choice. You know my feelings on the matter.” Lee responded.

  “In that case, it's settled. I will hand in my resignation tomorrow.”

  Lee corrected me. “Don’t you mean today? It's half past one in the morning.”

  Lee knew that my having a second job could help me reach my target. But, at the same time, she didn't want to end up a widow.

  “We should get to bed.” Lee said gathering our teacups.

  I grabbed her waist as she walked by. Lee’s concern for my well-being had aroused me. Even in the face of fatigue, my desire to make love to my wife was piqued.

  Lee wiggled away. “Sleeping is all that we’re doing mister. No hanky-panky, you need your rest.”

  By the time Lee had returned from washing our cups, I had gotten into bed and was sound asleep.

  ---

  The next morning, I was up and dressed before Lee. I prepared breakfast for the both of us.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “You’re up early.” Lee said with squinted eyes. “Are you making breakfast?”

  “Yes, I am.” I beamed.

  “Then, I'm going to take a shower.” Lee wearily rubbed her eyes.

  Breakfast was a simple meal of toast, apple jelly and scrambled tofu. As I waited for Lee to get out of the shower, I read the early morning newspaper. In mid-scan I stumbled across an ad for a two-week getaway to China being organized by British Airlines. Lee's aunt Wendy had suggested that Lee and I take a trip to China someday. With my working long hours and not seeing my wife, this would be the perfect gift since Lee and I had never had a real honeymoon. I carefully jotted down the details so that my boss could make the arrangements.

  Lee returned from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.

  “Sweetheart, can I ask you a question?” I smiled.

  “Yeah, what is it babe?”

  “You told me you were a Christian, right?” I probed.

  “Yes, I am Christian. Why, do you think I'm not?” Lee was confused.

  “Well before you went into the bathroom you were a Christian, and now you’ve come out looking like a Hindu with that towel wrapped around your head.” I laughed.

  “I just washed my hair, silly.” Lee blushed and took a bite of toast from my hand before heading to the bedroom to get dressed.

  ---

  While working, Peter and Ronnie paid a visit to my office. Peter situated himself on the corner of my desk and Ronnie pulled up an empty chair. Both of them looked and felt just as tired as I did. Before they spoke, I explained to them that Lee and I had discussed things, and had decided that my working long hours was wreaking havoc on my physical and mental health. Both men admitted to having had fallen asleep at the wheel on the way home, and neglecting their own family life. We concluded that it would be in the best interest of us all to hand in our resignations and seek other means of financial advancement. We would then renegotiate our partnership at a later date.

  I changed the subject to inquire about enlisting the help of my friends. I asked Peter if he would mind dropping me off at the airport. He instantly jumped to the conclusions.

  “Well, it seems as if married life isn’t for you after all. Trying to run away so wifey won’t take half of your stuff?” he grinned mischievously.

  “It's nothing like that stupid!”

  Ronnie chuckled.

  “I want to surprise my wife and take her on holiday to China in the next two weeks.” I said to Peter. “On the other hand, Ronnie would you take me because Peter has a habit of showing up late. I turned towards Ronnie. “It must be a Jamaican thing. Every time the three of us go out, Peter shows up twenty or thirty minutes late.”

  “How bloody dare you?” Peter replied mimicking my accent. His foolish antics triggered Ronnie’s and my laughter.

  “I’ll drop you off, Alistair.” Ronnie said between laughs.

  April 10, 1989

  It was April 10th and Lee and I had been dropped off at the airport by Ronnie and Peter. We were excited because neither one of us had ever been to China. Lee only knew enough Mandarin to get us by. After check-in, Lee and I headed to the airport’s convenience store to pickup magazines and snacks for our 13-hour flight. Everything was considerably higher there than in a regular variety store.

  ---

  We boarded flight 1515.

  “This is seat B16 and B17.” I motioned.

  Lee plopped herself down in the seat while I put the carry-on bags in a cargo space above us. “Alistair, I noticed that blonde stewardess looking at you rather provocatively.”

  “What blonde are you talking about? There are three blonde stewardesses.”

  Lee nudged me playfully. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know who I'm talking about, mister.”

  Lee pointed out Helen. We had gotten to know each other over the years of working for British Airways. She had lived in Bath, a city not too far from the small town of Trowbridge where I was born and raised. We both fancied each other, but nothing would become of it. I couldn’t see myself in a relationship with a woman who traveled for a living, and who basically had little to no concept of family life. Plus, Helen loved her looks and craved the attention of men. I on the other hand, was more laid back.

  “Are you going to tell me?” Lee’s hunger for information snapped me out of my thoughts.

  I told Lee that Helen was just a friend, and that at no point and time were we ever involved. The stewardess suddenly closed the door, and began speaking over the intercom. She asked that passengers take their seats before the aircraft was taxied to the runway. As she spoke, Helen and another attendant illustrated emergency protocol. At the end of their demonstration, they took their seats.

  The jet’s engines increasingly grew louder as the fastened seatbelts sign dinged. Within a short time, flight 1515 reached speeds of 250-400 knots and was instantly airborne.

  ---

  Twelve hours and forty-five minutes later, flight 1515 flew in formation waiting it’s turn to land. We were fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.

  Going through customs took us over an hour. After retrieving our bags from luggage pickup, Lee and I packed our belongings onto a cart and headed towards the exit. Outside, the airport looked just as busy as JFK with cabs lined up waiting for new arrivals. Lee held onto my arm as we plowed through hordes of people. Getting a cab was easy, knowing who to trust was a tougher matter.

  Lee walked towards a skycap who was helping passengers load their cases into a cab. The skycap flagged for the next driver after the previous one had departed. The driver in queue was standing outside of his car having a fagg and chin-wagging with another cabby. Both men were far too engaged in their exchange to even notice the airport worker. He shouted to get their attention. The driver quickly flicked his fagg on the ground, and said some parting words to his friend before hopping into his car pulling up.

  He screeched his tires to a halt and jumped out to open the trunk. Both the driver and the skycap unloaded our luggage from the cart. I kept a watchful eye on our personal belongings. I had heard horror stories about trusting tourists being taken advantage of in a foreign territory. This wasn’t going to happen to us, even if it meant being overly vigilant.

  I slipped the porter three quid, then asked the speeding cabby to t
ake us to the Hilton Hotel. I could immediately tell that the man at the wheel was quite loquacious.

  “Excuse me sir, my name is Chin. If you need to stop anywhere before we get to the hotel, please let me know.” Chin spoke English very well. Unfamiliar with Beijing, I asked Chin about the safest areas for tourists.

  “Yes, British very safe here.” Chin replied. “Your wife British too?”

  “No, my wife is American.”

  “She safe also.” Chin reassured me. “Where you come from in America, New York?” Chin had only heard of two places in America—New York and California. He had guessed correctly.

  “Yes we are. How did you know?” I asked inquisitively.

  “Everyone goes to east coast, New York or west coast, California.” Chin answered.

  “Where would you go in America?” I continued our dialogue.

  “That's easy, New York. Some of my friends and family live there in Brooklyn. I've never visited them, but hope to someday before I get too old.” Chin replied. “Does your wife have family here?” Chin asked glancing at Lee through the rearview mirror.

  “Yes.” Lee answered. “Do you know any Changs?”

  “The name Chang, very common name. I use to have a friend Chang. He and his wife left many years ago; took his parents. They live in America. He was my very good friend, but very miserable. The locals used to call him Happy.” Chin chuckled. “His wife was very beautiful. Look just like you.”

  Chin continued. “Only God knows why she married that miserable old fool. I wonder what Lucy and Willie are doing today.”

  Lee and I were speechless.

  “Did you just say Willie and Lucy?” Lee asked.

  Chin smiled. “Yeah, Lucy sexy woman.”

  Lee dug into her handbag and took out an old picture of her parents and handed it to Chin. Chin glanced at the photo, giving it a familiar double take.

  “Where you get this photo?” Chin asked eagerly after recognizing his friends.

  “Those are my parents.” Lee smiled.

  Chin’s cab veered slightly right then left at the coincidence. He cautiously slowed the car as we pulled up in front of the hotel. He quickly opened our doors before retrieving the suitcases from the trunk. He placed our luggage on the bellboy’s cart. Before departing, we asked Chin if he would pick us up the following afternoon and take us to the village to visit family. He agreed and sped off like a mad man.

  “That Chin is something else, isn’t he, love?” I laughed.

  “Yes, he's certainly different from any other person I've ever met.” Lee smiled. “Can you believe the things he said about mum?”

  We walked to the hotel’s front desk and checked-in with the receptionist. From there, we were escorted to our room by the bellhop. Our room wasn’t a presidential suite, but it had the makings of one with its unrestrained lavish appearance. One would have thought that Lee and I would have been tired after nearly thirteen hours of being seated in one place. Instead, we wasted no time beginning our exploration of China. We unpacked and left the room.

  April 11, 1989

  The following day, we were up at the crack of dawn eating a complementary breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, and going over plans. As usual, Lee planned for us to go shopping before Chin arrived at noon. There where multiple street venders selling various wares. You name it, it was being sold. Lee spotted an appealing tea set she fell in love with. She asked for my opinion. Either way, I knew she would buy the fancy porcelain.

  Sitting on a bench across from us was a man wearing a white shirt, jeans and flip-flops. He was selling original sketches of tourists. Lee and I strolled over to browse through his artwork. As we approached, his attention was focused on us both. He motioned for Lee and I to join him on the bench before his hand frenetically moved a pen over his sketchpad. After a few jerks and squiggles, he revealed his masterpiece. His work was like nothing I’d ever seen. Amazed by his artistic depiction of us, Lee gave him a twenty-dollar bill. He meekly handed it back, thinking that Lee had overpaid for his work. Lee refused to take back the twenty quid.

  Time was ticking away. In fifteen minutes, Chin was to pick us up outside the hotel. On our way back to meet him, we came across an assemblage of men distributing leaflets. One of them pushed one in my direction. Lee quickly told another, no thank you, before he could offer her a pamphlet. Lee grabbed my hand, pulling me along as if I were a little boy who should know better than to take things from strangers.

  “Sweetheart, what’s that for?” I inquired.

  “That pig wanted to invite you to a massage parlor.”

  “There's no need to be rude to him. We could have gone together.” I remarked innocently.

  “Honey, it's not that kind of massage parlor.” Lee insisted. “Prior to coming here, my mom told me of places like this. They are everywhere, and they sell young girls and women for sex.”

  I froze, mortified that that rat bastard thought I would be willing to participate in sex slavery.

  “Honey, don’t take it personally. If things need to be changed, there is a right way and a wrong way.” Lee said precisely what my mum would have told me.

  It really troubled me thinking of those innocent women and girls, forcibly and openly flaunting themselves waiting to be sold like a piece of meat to some high-class-low-life-yuppie-foreign businessman. And, such a man probably had a loving wife and children at home.

  Years later, Peter, Ronnie and I took a trip back to China to protest against the illegal solicitation of women and minors. This would spawn worldwide criticism against the Chinese government. Many felt that they weren’t doing nearly enough to stop these undesirable practices. After being placed under close scrutiny, the Chinese conducted raids on many of these underground establishments. These missions brought several top American businessmen to justice who had been caught in compromising positions in these establishments. They were given lengthy prison sentences, sending a message around the globe that China would not tolerate acts of misconduct on any level.

  April 12, 1989

  Chin had arrived ahead of time, and was leaning against his car smoking a cigarette when we made it back to the hotel. Chin greeted us, and helped load the items we purchased into the car’s trunk. He noticed the sketch of me and Lee, and told us he knew the artist. “I see Mr. Feng’s son sold you one of his many works. He's a very good artist. Feng very rich also.”

  “He doesn’t look rich.” Lee replied.

  “No, not the son his father.” Chin then gave Lee and I the history in choppy sentences. “Young Feng doesn’t want to be in the family business. He'd rather sell his art and become famous that way. He tells me his father forgets where he comes from, and never helps people. Says he's only consumed with wealth and greed. Young Feng is not like his father.”

  Chin closed the car door behind us and got into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, dipped the clutch into first gear and made a sudden U-turn that threw Lee and I from one side to the other.

  “Do you think older Feng will change?” I asked Chin.

  “I'm not sure, but life has its surprises.” Chin answered. “By the way, we’re in for a long drive. And let me warn you, where we are headed is not like the Ritz. This is nothing like what you’re used to.” Chin made sure to point that out.

  The drive took about an hour, riding along the village’s narrow and uneven roads. The setting was certainly different. It was dotted with rough and ready homes that looked like they couldn’t withstand a downpour. This was unlike anything we’d ever seen. The landscape’s harsh reality engulfed us.

  Chin coasted to a stop. Bystanders looked on as Lee and I exited the cab. Chin walked us towards a makeshift hut. A man in his late thirties appeared from the side of the hut. Chin told the man who we were, and he went inside his home and returned with a woman and two young children. They introduced themselves as Sam and Meyling Chang.

  It was very emotional for Lee to meet her dad's family. I don’t know if meeting them for th
e first time, or the poor condition in which they lived was what made Lee feel more poignant. Meyling and Sam's six-year-old daughter took a liking to me. She held my hand as we followed her parents inside.

  Lee and I decided that we would spend the remainder of our holiday in the village with her family. We cancelled our stay in the hotel.

  Sam and Meyling relished the idea of their family from New York staying with them. And I enjoyed my time with Sam. He was an easygoing, bright person, despite not being formally educated. He worked hard to provide for his family. From time to time, Meyling worked along side her husband in the rice paddy whenever their neighbor could watch their children.

  Harvesting rice was the main source of income for the Chang’s and the other villagers. The previous season, an unexpected storm whipped through the village, destroying both crops and homes. After months of rebuilding, the cleanup was almost complete when Lee and I had arrived. What many Americans took for granted, the families there praised. Many only had the bare essentials for meager survival.