Digging to America

by Anne Tyler

  Does everybody know each other? Jin-Ho's mother asked, and when no one spoke she said, Wonderful. Now, I think we should do the balloons first thing, don't you all agree? And get it over with.

  Sort of like ripping off a Band-Aid, Jin-Ho's grandpa said. Right. So you bring that last balloon, Brad, and Xiu-Mei, you give me your binky...

  She didn't wait for Xiu-Mei to give it to her, though. She just plucked it out of Xiu-Mei's mouth. Xiu-Mei's mouth stayed in a damp, surprised O shape and she looked around the room as if she wondered what had just happened. Here we go, her mother said, tying the binky to the balloon. It was a red balloon with white stars on it. The last, last one, her mother said in a sort of singsong. Ready, everybody? Everybody get some balloons from the living room, two or three apiece, and we'll go outdoors and let them fly off.

  She stood up, setting Xiu-Mei on her hip again, and led the way to the living room. Xiu-Mei's mouth was still in an O shape. Jin-Ho kept expecting her to let out a howl but it seemed she was too surprised.

  We fly the balloons? Athena asked Jin-Ho.

  Jin-Ho said, Yup.

  I want to bring mine home with me.

  You can't, Susan said from her other side. You've got to let them go.

  Other parties, you're allowed to bring them home.

  Not when they have binkies on them, silly, Susan said. Athena blinked.

  They went into the living room and chose three balloons apiece. Susan said, I'm taking all pink, which Jin-Ho didn't understand at first because the balloons were either red or white or blue, some with stars or stripes or with both, as if they might have been left over from the Fourth of July. Then she saw that Susan was talking about the color of the binkies. Jin-Ho herself had two blue binkies and one yellow. The yellow happened to be the binky that looked like a sideways 8, and that made her sad, a little, because she had a very clear picture in her head of Xiu-Mei sucking on it.

  They all went back through the dining room, through the kitchen, out the back door, and down the porch steps. Mercy Copeland said, Oh! What a shame! She was looking toward the elm that had fallen across the garage front.

  Yes, it broke our hearts, Jin-Ho's mother said. Not to mention we can't get my car out, or the patio furniture.

  She was holding just one balloon, the last one with the white stars. Xiu-Mei wasn't holding any. Didn't she say she'd have six? She was sitting astride her mother's hip with her lower lip kind of pooched.

  All right, everybody! Jin-Ho's mother called. Ready, set, go!

  All the balloons floated upward. They went at different speeds, though, and some didn't go very far. One of Jin-Ho's balloons snagged on the fallen elm. One of Susan's landed in the Sansoms' hedge. But a lot of the others made it, and in a minute you couldn't see the binkies anymore but just the balloons they were strung to, like little red, white, and blue thumbtacks stuck to the perfect sky. Jin-Ho's mother had been right: they did look pretty.

  Then Mrs. Sansom called, Bitsy?

  She was standing on the other side of the hedge, holding Susan's balloon.

  Bitsy, it seems there are infants' pacifiers everywhere in our yard, she said.

  Jin-Ho's mother said, Oh, dear.

  There are pacifiers in our rosebushes and our gutters and our dogwood tree.

  I'm sorry, Dottie That TV cable that's hanging down from the electric pole in the alley? There are pacifiers all over it.

  We'll clean them up, I promise, Jin-Ho's mother said. Oh, dear, I never thought Say there! Xiu-Mei! Jin-Ho's father called.

  Jin-Ho's mother turned toward him as if she were glad to hear from him.

  He was standing on the back porch, although Jin-Ho had assumed till now that he was in the yard with everybody else. Wonder if the Binky Fairy's left you something! he called.

  Ooh! people said, and Xiu-Mei! Let's go look!

  Xiu-Mei turned from face to face, still poochy-lipped, as her mother carried her up the steps to see what she had gotten.

  Well, it wasn't an American Girl doll. But it was a fairly good present, even so: a little tiny stroller she could push instead of her grocery cart. It sat in front of the fireplace with a red bow tied to the handle. Won't your kangaroos just love this? her mother asked. Xiu-Mei didn't answer, but when her mother set her down she went over to her grocery cart and hauled out her kangaroo mama and baby and piled them into the stroller. Then she started pushing them around the living room. She looked a little naked without a binky in her mouth. She was so short that even though the stroller was toy-sized, she had to reach up to hold the handle. Everybody said, Aww, again. Lucy came toddling over and grabbed hold of the handle too, and the two of them pushed the stroller together while Jin-Ho's father and Lucy's father snapped about a million photographs.

  In the dining room, Ziba was handing out soft drinks from the cooler she'd set on the table. Jin-Ho wasn't allowed to have soft drinks. She accepted one and walked off toward the window seat where Athena and Polly had settled again. Did the holes at the tops of your ears hurt more than the holes at the bottoms? Athena was asking. I want to get more holes too but my mom believes that's trashy.

  Polly said, Trashy! Well, that's just because she's a grownup. And the two of them smiled at each other as if they were oldest, best friends. Neither one of them paid any heed to Jin-Ho.

  Deirdre was talking on her cell phone over in the corner, facing the wall and keeping her voice low. She had a boyfriend, Jin-Ho knew, although she was only thirteen, which was way, way too young for a boyfriend according to Jin-Ho's mother. And Bridget was telling Mercy Copeland where she went to school and what grade she was in and so on and so forth, poor Bridget, while Mercy nodded very seriously and took a sip of her soft drink.

  Jin-Ho's soft drink tasted like tin, but maybe it was supposed to.

  Now her father was photographing Uncle Abe and Aunt Jeannine. They had their arms linked like a movie-star couple and they were smiling with all their teeth and Uncle Abe was saying, Cheddar! Roquefort! Monterey Jack! which was his way of being funny. But Lucy's father had stopped taking pictures and was talking with Sami in the living room. You want three megapixels at the very least, he was saying. Jin-Ho drifted on past them, keeping her drink can down by her side in case she ran into her mother.

  But where was her mother? Oh, yes, there: standing on the front-porch steps with Jin-Ho's grandpa. Jin-Ho could see them through the screen door. They had their backs to her and they didn't even notice when she came up and set her nose against the screen.

  Her grandpa was telling her mother that anyhow, he had work to do. He still had branches on his lawn as big around as his arm. And why I own an electric chain saw instead of gasoline, I don't know, he said. You might have thought it would occur to me that if I needed to cut any trees up, perhaps it would be due to a storm that had interfered with my power. So I'm having to use a hand saw, and I've still got a good, oh, eight or ten I understand, Dad, Jin-Ho's mother said, and I'm not trying to stop you, honest. But if you're leaving for some other reason if you're leaving because of Sami and Ziba ... well, that's just silly. They love to see you! They don't feel the least bit strange!

  No, I know that, Jin-Ho's grandpa said. Goodness! It's nothing to do with them. It's only that my yard, you see . . . Then he trailed off, and when he started speaking again he'd switched to a whole new subject. He said, I keep going over and over it, trying to figure it out. I say, 'She seemed so happy; she never gave me the slightest indication; why did she let me imagine she loved me?' I remember how she'd bring me something to eat and then sit down across from me and watch my face to see if I liked it. No one will ever do that again. I don't kid myself! Nobody else is going to care about me that way again at my age.

  Jin-Ho was expecting her mother to argue. Of course, they all cared, she should say. What on earth was he thinking? But she didn't. She said, Oh, Dad. It wasn't just that she seemed happy; she was happy. You both were. And she did love you, I swear it. She deeply, truly loved you; anyone could see that, and I am
so, so sorry you're not together anymore.

  Behind Jin-Ho, her father said, Psst.

  She turned and looked up at him.

  Do me a favor, he whispered. Inch the door open. I want to get a picture of the two of them.

  She pushed the screen door as silently as possible. Sometimes the spring made a twanging sound but not today, luckily. Her father stuck his camera through the opening and pressed the button. Thanks, he whispered. Got it. I can tell it'll be a good one. Doesn't your mom look great?

  She did, really. Her face was turned toward Jin-Ho's grandpa and the sky beyond lit her smooth skin and the sweet, full curve of her mouth.

  Jin-Ho closed the screen door and followed her father back to the living room.

  Once again he was aiming his camera at Xiu-Mei and Lucy. They were still in front of the fireplace, but the stroller was off to one side now and they both faced Susan, who was leading them in some kind of game. She stood with her hands on her hips, as bossy as a schoolteacher, and said, Okay, repeat after me: Wah, wah, wah, we always cry at bedtime.

  Dutifully, they echoed, Wah, wah No! Wrong! Did I say, 'Susan says'? Repeat: Wah, wah, wah, we always cry at lunchtime.

  Wah, wah What is the matter with you guys? Now. Susan says: Wah, wah, wah, we always cry at swimming-lesson time.

  Wah, wah, wah ...

  Lucy spoke very clearly for her age, but Xiu-Mei was harder to understand because she had a polka-dot binky in her mouth.

  Maryam was picking up Susan at the Tiny Toes School of Ballet and Modern Dance. Unfortunately she was early, because she'd never been there before and she'd allowed too much time for the drive. She was filling in for Ziba, who had a dental appointment.

  It was a sunny day in late June, and she could feel the heat rising from the sidewalk as she stood in front of the school, which was an ordinary brown shingle-board house set back a bit from the street. Another woman was waiting also, but she was busy chasing her toddler and so they merely exchanged smiles, which suited Maryam just fine.

  Then a man said, Maryam? and she turned and found Dave Dickinson standing next to her.

  Hi, he said.

  Oh, she said. Hello.

  This wasn't the first time they had run into each other. Once shortly after their breakup she had met him when he was dropping Jin-Ho off at Sami and Ziba's, and once again a few weeks later when she was standing in line at the post office. But that had been over a year ago, and on both occasions he had been so curt almost not speaking, really that she was uncertain how to behave now. She lifted her chin and braced herself for whatever might come next.

  He had that strong, tanned, leathery skin that was so attractive in aging men and so unattractive in women. He was in need of a haircut, and if she had reached up to touch his curls they would have encircled her fingers completely.

  Is Susan taking lessons here? he asked.

  Yes. Beginning ballet.

  So's Jin-Ho.

  Well, of course: that would be how Ziba had come up with the idea. Maryam should have known. She said, I guess it's that summer panic. What to do with them once school is out.

  Yes, for sure it's not because of any God-given talent, Dave said. Or not in Jin-Ho's case, at least. How about Susan? Is she at all graceful?

  Maryam shrugged. In fact she considered Susan to be very graceful, but she didn't want to say this to the grandparent of a child as clunky as Jin-Ho. I believe they just want to introduce her to all the possibilities, she said. Last year it was art camp.

  Oh, yes, Jin-Ho went to that.

  They both smiled.

  Then Dave said, Bitsy's sick.

  It was the suddenness of his remark that told her he meant something more than the usual. She waited, fixing her eyes on his. He said, That's where they are at this moment, she and Brad: consulting with the oncologist. Last week they removed a lump from her breast and now they're discussing options.

  Oh, Dave. I'm so sorry, Maryam said. I know this must bring it all back to you.

  Well, naturally I'm worried.

  But every year they find new treatments, she said. And they caught it early, I assume.

  Yes, the doctors have been very encouraging. It's just that it's kind of a shock to all of us.

  Of course it is, she said. She shaded her eyes with one hand; the sun had moved directly above him. I hope she'll let me know if there's anything I can do, she said. I'd be happy to pick up the children, bring food...

  I'll tell her that. Thanks, he said. I know she means to talk to Ziba as soon as they're sure what the plan is.

  Another woman approached, pushing a baby in a stroller. Now that they had an audience, Dave changed the subject. Anyhow! he said. Will you be going to the Arrival Party this year? Oh. Of course you will. It's your turn.

  Well, not my turn; Sami and Ziba's. And I may be in New York then.

  New York?

  Kari and Danielle and I have been talking about seeing some plays.

  But you could do that anytime, he said.

  One of the plays may close soon, though. And besides. You know. Really that's a young people's party. I'm getting too old for such things.

  Old! he said, so sharply that the woman with the stroller sent Maryam a curious glance.

  And also there's a chance that my cousin Farah will be here, Maryam said.

  It's both the time when you're away and the time you have a guest?

  Well, not on the exact same date ...

  She gave up. She stopped speaking.

  Dave said, Look. Maryam. It's absurd to think we can't both attend the same social event.

  This from the man who had told her straight out, No, we can not go on seeing each other.

  But she said, Well, you're right, of course.

  You didn't come last year either. You missed a good party. Yes, so I heard. Ziba told me.

  Jin-Ho accidentally dropped the videotape in the punch bowl, but we fished it out before any damage was done. And 'Coming Round the Mountain' got so raucous that when the cousins shouted, 'Hi, babe!' you'd swear they must be hanging out the windows of a brothel. Other than that, though . . .

  Maryam laughed. (She had always loved his particular way of wording things.)

  Think about it, he said.

  She said, All right.

  Then the children started trickling forth from the school their own two in front, blocky-haired Jin-Ho and Susan with her long braids swinging and they went their separate ways.

  During the next few days, she found herself haunted by a lingering sorrow. Partly, of course, this was due to the news about Bitsy. Maryam assumed she fervently hoped that the cancer had been caught in time, but still she hated to think of what the Donaldsons must be going through. And then another part of her grieved once again for Dave. Seeing him had reminded her of how he'd stood on his porch that morning watching her drive away, his frayed, patched gardening pants buckling at the knees in an elderly manner. She missed him very much. She tried never to allow herself to know how much.

  She wrote Bitsy a note, expressing her concern and offering any help that was needed. I am sending you my best thoughts, she wrote, wishing for the thousandth time that she were religious and could volunteer her prayers. I hope you will not hesitate to call on me. She debated a moment before she signed it. Sincerely? Yours very truly? In the end she settled on Affectionately, because Bitsy might have her faults but at least they were well-meaning faults. She was a good-hearted, generous woman, and Maryam felt the same sympathy for her that she would feel for an old friend.

  Her world had become very peaceful since the breakup. Well, it had been peaceful before, too, but somehow her brief venture into a livelier, more engaged way of life made her appreciate the blessed orderliness of her daily routine. She awoke before dawn, when the sky was still a pearly white and the birds were barely stirring. One of the cardinals on her block had a habit of omitting the second note of his call and repeating just the first in a flinty, bright staccato. Vite! Vite! Vite! he seemed t
o be saying, like an overeager Frenchman. A jet plane crossed the highest windowpanes perfectly level, perfectly silent, and sometimes a wan, translucent moon still hung behind the neighbors' maple tree.

  She lay gathering her thoughts, absently stroking the cat, who always slept in the crook of her arm, until the young doctor down the street started his noisy car and set off for morning rounds. That was the signal for her to get up. How creaky she was becoming! Every joint had to learn to bend all over again each morning, it seemed.

  By the time she came back from her shower, the sun had risen and more of the neighborhood was awake. The new puppy exploded from the house next door, yapping excitedly. A baby started crying. Several cars swished past. You could tell what time it was on this street just by counting the cars and hearing how fast they were going.

  She dressed with care, eyeliner and all; she was not a bathrobe kind of woman. She made her bed and collected her water tumbler and the book she had fallen asleep with, and only then did she head downstairs, trailed by the cat, who liked to twine between her feet.