by Jennie Liu
He coughs again, bringing up a wad of phlegm. He twists around and spits it out behind him. “Yun”—he says my name as if we’re old friends, but it sounds strange to my ears—“I’m going to find a way to get Yong out of jail. But you know it’s all true.”
He’s standing less than five feet from me. His eyes are troubled. They rove past me to the alley walls, the gravel under foot, the leaden sky.
“He isn’t the main one who finds the girls. I don’t think he knew about it when he first started. He really was just a driver for his boss at first. But he definitely knows everything that’s going on now.” He sighs. “I don’t know what happened to my little brother. All he cares about is money these days. Ever since he went to the city. He couldn’t get a good job in the factories because he doesn’t have the hukou. Eventually he found work with this boss, got a taste of nightclubs and motorbikes and money. Romancing girls and tricking them, taking them to the countryside and selling them.” He tracks a scattering of black birds as they fly overhead, cawing and beating away the dead of the morning. “He’ll do anything for the money. It’s the money that’s changed him.”
I have nothing to say to that. I know what it’s like to feel that you have no options. But it seems to me that even without a hukou, Yong was better off than I was growing up. He’s always had a home, a good mother, an unblemished face. I can’t find it in my heart to pity him.
Wei sighs. “But he’s my brother and I have to get him out for Ma. He’s going to come back here. When the baby is born, if it’s a boy, he’ll want to keep it. But if it’s a girl . . .” His eyes are grim.
“If it’s a girl, what?”
“Maybe he’ll want to sell her.”
Sell a girl? I think of all those kids in the Institute. The baby girls with nothing wrong with them except that they weren’t boys. “Why would anyone want to pay for a girl? People can just get a girl from an orphanage.”
Wei shakes his head. “It’s actually not that easy if you can’t afford to pay the required ‘donation’ to the orphanages. Even though people here are getting richer, those fees are way too high. And apparently, since that earthquake in Sichuan last year, there’s been a huge spike in demand. Thousands and thousands of people lost their kids, and now they’re desperate to adopt because they’re too old to get pregnant again.”
I don’t know how to feel about this. It sounds heartless to sell a baby. But really, I don’t want this baby anyway. If it’s sold to a good home, so much the better. Still, the fact that Yong thinks that he could decide this for me makes me angry. It must’ve been his plan from the beginning, and instead of telling me, he let me believe he’d help pay for the abortion.
I never should’ve trusted him.
Wei glances around again. The lane is still empty. “I know you and Yong aren’t married.”
I cross my arms and try to rub off the cold. “So? It doesn’t bother me. Yong just told your mother that so she wouldn’t lose face.”
“But don’t you get it? If you’re not his wife, there’s nothing to stop him from . . .”
He trails off, letting the rest go unspoken. Now it sinks in what he’s trying to tell me.
Yong might sell me too.
Probably to some distant farmer who needs someone to make a baby, take care of him, work in the fields.
I haven’t been unhappy here in the country with Ma taking care of me. But I am not going to be the drudge of some stinking farmer too old or ugly to find himself a wife.
I’ve got to get away before Yong comes back.
Chapter 13
Yun
I go back to the house and sit at the table while Ma makes breakfast. Wei comes in, and we eat without looking at each other. The room is filled with Ma’s sharp sighs and clutching breaths as she lists everyone they’re going to try to borrow money from. I can feel Wei studying me, but I don’t pay any attention.
My mind is trying to sort out what to do. The only thing I can think about is getting out.
Ma and Wei rush out of the house, leaving me to wash the breakfast dishes. As soon as they’re gone, I pull my money out of the comforter and push it into the pocket of my jeans. The jeans sit low on my hips, held together with an old belt Ma found because I can’t snap the button or pull up the zipper all the way. But my coat and big sweater cover the gap between my shirt and pants. I stuff my comforter into one of my bags and grab the others, which I never really unpacked. When I stick my head out the door, the alley is empty.
I walk to the bus station.
The man behind the single ticket window says the bus to Gujiao won’t arrive until 11:55. I pay the 8 yuan for the ticket and lumber over to a chair in the corner, away from the window. The room is small and dingy, with only a single, rumpled poster advertising tours to Píngyáo, ancient preserved city, a UNESCO World Heritage Site! The ticketing agent eyes my fat stomach and the bags around my feet before he reaches over and slides the glass shut with a bang.
There are no other people in the bus station. I can hear the tick of the clock that hangs over the ticket window.
Now I have to think about where to go next. Train station, health clinic, job center? Who will hire me now? I curse myself for not taking care of this baby earlier.
I tug at the fine hair behind my ears, feeling the pinch. I first came to Ma’s with a bare spot in the underside of my longer hair. When she saw what I was doing she begged me to stop, and every time she caught me pulling, she put a mug of tea or a piece of fruit in my hand. But now the old urge is back. I try being satisfied with just twisting or tugging on a lock.
More than two hours pass. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do when I get to Gujiao.
The station door sweeps open.
“When you get to Jiaocheng, try to get my cousin to go to his neighbors if he doesn’t have any money himself. After that, call Lau’s father again. I’ll check in with him every day. And if you still don’t have enough, try your brother’s friends in Gujiao!”
I recognize Ma’s shivery voice even though she and Wei both have their faces half buried under scarves and hats. I let go of my hair and ball my fists in my lap, frozen.
Wei waves at her to stop talking as they step toward the ticket window. She hovers beside him, watching as he buys a ticket, not seeing me. I think about slipping out and waiting somewhere else. I wonder if gathering my bags will attract their attention.
When the ticket agent shuts the window and Wei starts counting his change, Ma goes on giving him instructions. “Try the bribe first. That would make everything so much easier! Tell them about the baby coming. If they’re unsure about taking a bribe, this will make them feel better about it. I’ll keep raising money in case they’re too greedy.”
Wei turns, nodding absently as he stuffs his wallet in his pocket. He glances up and sees me.
The look on his face makes Ma turn around. Her eyes go first to my stomach, then to my bags cluttered around my legs. “Yun! What are you doing here?”
I glance at Wei and decide not to say anything.
“What are you doing?” Ma asks again.
I clamp my lips together and shift my gaze to the blue plastic chairs across the room.
Ma comes to my corner and plants herself in front of me. “What’s going on? Why are you here? With all your bags?” Her eyes travel back and forth across my face, but I still don’t answer.
Her baffled expression clears suddenly, and she throws up her hands as if she understands everything. “Oh, you’re a good girl!” She laces her fingers and joggles her clamped hands toward me. “But I don’t think you can do anything.” Instantly unsure, she wheels around to Wei. “Do you think it will help if she goes with you?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before she spins back to me. “But the baby! It’s too much for you and the baby. You shouldn’t go anywhere!” She bends over and starts gathering my bags.
I quickly reach down and try to grab the straps out of her hand. We have a brief tug-and-pull until I
set my teeth and snatch them free. Ma straightens up, her mouth drawing down in a frown. I turn away. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks.
I won’t look at her.
“She’s running away,” Wei says.
“What are you talking about?” Ma’s voice rises so sharply, the man behind the ticket window glances up from behind the glass.
“Ma . . .” Wei starts, but breaks off.
“What is it? Why are you leaving, Yun?”
I still don’t answer her. It seems too much trouble to explain that her son is a black-hearted devil. I just want to be done with them.
Ma begins shaking. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t go anywhere!” She balls her fists and stamps her thighs with them. “You can’t take our baby!”
My ears get hot. I clench my teeth to hold back a curse.
Ma instantly seems to think better of her outburst. She perches on the chair beside me, picks up my hand, and starts rubbing it. Her hand is warm and strong against my cold one. “Now, you heard Wei. This is all a mistake. Come back home with me. Nothing to worry about. Wei will get Yong out and bring him home to us. He’ll find another job. Stop this and come home with me.” She forces a big smile and looks at me expectantly. I pull my hand out of her grasp and fold both hands together under my belly.
Ma turns to Wei, not understanding, pleading. “Wei?” He has only a blank face to give her.
“Wei! We can’t let her go! She can’t just run off!”
Ma rises and rushes to the ticket agent’s window. She raps on it so hard, the glass shakes on its track.
The ticket agent slides it open, scowling at her. Ma shouts at him, “Call the police! I need to have my son’s wife detained. She’s trying to run away, but she’s about to have his baby!”
I curse, jump up, and grab my bags.
“Wei! Stop her!” Ma flaps her hands at him to move.
Hesitantly, Wei steps toward me and tries to take my bags. I brush past him and head toward the door, but Ma flies at me and grabs me. “Wei! Wei!”
He grabs my other arm, but his grip is unconvincing. I thrash, trying to jerk away, which makes him hang on to me more tightly. Ma’s frail body lurches against me and my bags. One bag comes unzipped. Clothes and makeup scatter. My comforter spills out and sweeps the floor.
The ticket agent slams down the phone and bustles out into the waiting room. “Settle down now! Settle down!” He’s taller than Wei by a head. With a swift motion, his hands lock onto my upper arms, pressing them against my sides. Wei lets go, but Ma moves with us.
“Calm down! That’s enough of all this.” The ticket agent brings me back to the chairs in front of the window and pushes me to sit. Ma, still holding on to me, lowers herself beside me. “All this will be sorted out when the police get here.” The ticket agent lets go of me and steps back.
I jump up again and, still holding my half-empty bags, yank my arm out of Ma’s grip. The force of it causes me to strike her in the chin. She cries out.
“Now you’ve done it! You’ve hit your mother-in-law!” The ticketing agent skirts around me and gets hold of me from the back and side.
I can feel his hot breath on my forehead. I turn my head and spit in his face. His mouth drops open in shock. “Lunatic!” His arms lock tighter around me, his eyes narrowing into angry slits.
“Be careful of the baby!” Ma wails.
I fight as hard as I can, twisting, flailing, dropping my bags and trying to kick, but my big stomach makes it hard to raise my legs. Wei steps forward and gets hold of both my wrists. The ticket agent squeezes me harder and tighter the more I struggle, until I can hardly move and am gasping for breath. Blood pounds in my head. I can hear Ma bleating, “Yun! Yun! Please stop! The baby! The baby!”
“What kind of girl is this?” the ticket agent hisses in my ear. His breath comes out in short pants. “You have a real problem with this one!”
No one answers. I will Wei to look at me, but he keeps his eyes averted. He looks weak and miserable.
The station door bursts open. Two women and a man in thick coats crowd into the waiting room, plastic bags and suitcases dragging in their arms.
“Move over there.” The ticket agent calls out to them. From the corner of my eye I can see him point with his chin.
The travelers shuffle over a few steps but fan out in front of us, gaping openly. The man asks the ticket agent, “What’s all this about?”
“Family problems. Go over there. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
A moment later a police officer enters the station. “What’s going on?”
Ma turns her pleading gaze to him. “My daughter-in-law! She’s running away. You can see she’s pregnant.”
The police officer looks at me—at the bulge of my stomach, at my coat straining at the zipper, up at my face. He studies my pocks for a moment before he abruptly turns to Wei. “Why’s your wife running away?”
Wei drops my hands. “She’s not—”
Ma breaks in, “My other son’s wife. He’s . . . in the city.”
“I’m not his wife!” I spit out.
Ma’s face contorts with grief. “Why are you lying like this?” She turns to the police officer. “She’s not well. She had some bad news about my son. You can see she’s pregnant with my grandchild.”
I shake my head fiercely. “No, no. We never married! This isn’t even his child. It’s not!”
“Yun! Don’t say that!” Ma screams.
The cop asks Ma, “Do you have the marriage certificate?”
“No. It’s with my son, my other son. But he’s in the city. This one”—she gestures to Wei—“was just leaving to bring him here. Yun’s been living with me for the last several months.”
The officer waves his hands at the ticket agent. “Let go of her. Take care of your other customers.” He thumbs toward the office.
“Careful,” the ticket agent warns. “She was fighting like a wild animal. Punched her mother-in-law. Even spat in my face.” He slowly loosens his grip on me, backs away, and goes into the office.
I gulp air deep into my lungs as the cop gestures for the travelers to go to the ticket window. They reluctantly shift their eyes away when the ticket agent slides the window open.
The officer holds out his hand to me. “Your ID card?”
I drop into a chair and lean back for a moment, drawing in several breaths and rubbing the sides of my belly. It feels rigid and clenched. Ma’s hands are pressed over her mouth, her eyes as large as eggs. She’s worrying about the baby. All she cares about is the baby.
I reach to get my bag, but she hastily scoops it up and hands it to me. I dig around until I find my card.
The cop studies it. He raises his brow to me. “You’re only just eighteen. Too young for marriage.”
Ma opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She leans in to peer at my ID card, but I know she can hardly read.
“Having a child out of wedlock is a violation of Family Planning regulations.”
Ma jumps in, “There must be some misunderstanding. She’s twenty! This card is some sort of trick. I’m sure my son has their marriage papers. Let me take her home. Wei here is going to pick up Yong. As soon as he’s back we’ll get it all sorted out.”
The cop slowly runs his tongue over his teeth, the bulge of it pushing out the skin around his lips. “I think I’d better take her to the station. Fighting, running away, pregnant but unmarried, mentally unstable? Something’s not right. We’ll keep her there for the time being—until your sons get home at least.”
Ma is thinking, her eyes shifting back and forth. She nods. “Good. Good. Wei will bring my son, her husband, back and we’ll get it all sorted out. And nothing will happen to the baby?”
The officer twitches his head dismissively. He slips my ID card into the breast pocket of his coat and points at my scattered possessions. “Take all this home with you,” he says to Ma.
Wei and Ma start picking up my things while the officer take
s hold of my arm and pulls me to the door.
Just before he pushes me out into the stinging cold, Ma straightens up and calls to me. “I’ll visit you later—bring you something to eat! Please take care of my grandson!”
Chapter 14
Yun
The police station is a two-room, low-ceilinged building a short walk away. In the front room, the cop steers me past a large, black metal desk where another officer sits behind a computer, slurping his lunch. He starts to put his bowl down, but my cop gestures for him to keep eating as he pulls open a connecting door.
Inside the second room, two small cells face a long narrow window high above. My heart begins to race and the baby inside me kicks and turns. I stop, my heels digging in, but the officer pulls me forward.
In the first cell, a middle-aged man sits on the low platform that runs along the back wall. He looks at me, my pocks, my belly, staring flatly as we pass. With his battered blue coat and the stubble along his jawline, he could be anyone squatting by the side of the road waiting for a bus.
The cells share a solid wall between them. We pass to the second one. The cop hesitates, glancing at my stomach. But after a moment he thrusts a key into the lock, pushes open the heavy bars, and motions me in with a flip of his fingers.
There’s a sitting board along the wall and a bucket in the corner, which, from the smell of the place, serves as the toilet. The baby turns inside me again, feeling so heavy. I move to sit. The board is just a few inches off the floor. My pants feel like they’re going to split apart. The cop watches me with a little frown, and it strikes me that he’s troubled by the conditions of the cell because of the baby. But he clanks the door shut, locks it, and leaves.
Although it’s nearly as cold inside as it was outside, my armpits and the back of my neck began to feel damp. I see the metal bars, the spaces between, the peeling green paint on the wall. It’s the same paint they used in the orphanage. Blood rushes up to my ears. I try to get up from the sitting board, but I’ve forgotten my size and only fall back.
