The Moon Pearl

by Ruthanne Lum McCunn

  Together, she and Shadow and Rooster worked out the wording of their vows. By the end of the fifth watch, the hour Rooster usually rose to pray, they’d also made a list of what they would need in their new life and divided responsibility for acquiring the items that were not already in the loft: Their clothes they’d each bring from home; Mei Ju would retrieve their bowls, chopsticks, and dishes from the girls’ house kitchen; Rooster would get the necessary offerings; Shadow would borrow her sister-in-law’s pins and pow fa, sticky paste, for their hair, one of her family’s tiered baskets to carry all.

  “After I tell my family we’ve combed up our hair and made vows of spinsterhood, I’ll buy a cooking pot and some rice for us to get started with,” Shadow concluded.

  Rooster tilted her face up to the skylight, the pale rays of morning sun streaming in. “This time tomorrow, we’ll be sworn spinsters.”

  Was it really possible, Mei Ju wondered.

  Despite her resolve, Mei Ju’s intestines knotted in panic as soon as she was away from her friends. Even reeling couldn’t calm her. Indeed, for the first time since her apprenticeship, Mei Ju burned her fingers and tangled her threads.

  During morning and evening rice, she forced herself to eat just enough to prevent questions. Afterwards, she hurried to the outhouse and threw up every mouthful. Then, stirring the stink in the honeybucket to hide her vomit, she retched again, squeezing out bitter dregs from her belly that seared her nose and throat.

  Inside the kitchen, she rushed through her nightly wash, pulled on her three pairs of pants, the longest last. She did the same with her three tunics. Fumbling with the buttons, she broke out in a sweat. Yet the breeze from the small barred window high above the stove was strong enough to stir the soot clinging to the walls.

  Soon as hot, shivery, and wet with perspiration as she’d been at the height of her fever, Mei Ju feared she might faint. Desperately she panted for air, the courage and strength to walk through the common room and bid Grandmother, the rest of the family, “Jo tau, rest early,” without betraying herself and her friends.

  In truth, Mei Ju arrived at the girls’ house without any knowledge of how she’d managed to achieve it. The evening, too, passed in a dream. Somehow, though, she succeeded in lingering over the cleanup in the kitchen until everyone else had gone to bed, then wrapping her friends’ bowls and dishes and chopsticks without dropping any. Reaching for her own, she noticed her sister’s. Impulsively Mei Ju took them as well.

  Vows of Spinsterhood

  SHADOW had not slept in two nights. She was burdened by the tiered basket, blinded by a damp, cloying mist that intensified the predawn gray. Her heart, however, was glad, and she walked briskly. On either side of her, Rooster and Mei Ju matched her pace, took turns helping with the basket.

  To reach Seh Gung’s altar, they had to leave the main street, which was paved with large slabs of smooth stone, and cut through a stretch of tall grass wet with dew. Yet their progress continued swift and sure.

  Even when confronted with long twists of banyan roots, Shadow did not falter. Recalling the many happy times she and Elder Brother had met in secret under these same trees for lessons, she plunged through the roots that drooped like whiskers from low hanging branches; she leaped nimbly over those that ridged the ground, arriving only slightly breathless at the altar where she set down the basket.

  Moments later, Mei Ju and Rooster joined her. Before them, Seh Gung’s stone altar curved in a half-circle that reached out like a grandfather’s kindly embrace. At their back, the banyan trees sheltered them from any chance passer-by, the possibility of discovery. Thus warmly enfolded, Shadow unpacked and lit the candles they’d brought; Rooster unwrapped and set the statue of Gwoon Yum in the center of the altar; Mei Ju laid out their offerings of wine, rice, and fruit.

  Reverently, they each lit incense, bowed deeply once, twice, three times to the Commmunity Grandfather and Goddess of Mercy. Lifting their heads from their final bows, they unbraided their maidenly plaits, shook the strands loose so that their hair surrounded them like waist-length, gleaming black veils.

  Slowly, deliberately, Shadow drew a comb through her hair in three long strokes that began at her temples and ended at her waist; and with each stroke, she asked Heaven for the blessings they’d decided on together. “First comb, comb to the end. Second comb, may my brother enjoy bountiful wealth and many children. Third comb, may my parents and friends enjoy wealth, happiness, and long life.”

  One after the other, Rooster and Mei Ju did likewise, and Shadow heard in their voices the same deepening pride and joy she felt bubbling within. Indeed, it seemed to Shadow her friends’ faces shone bright as the rising sun.

  Smiling, she brought out the box of pins and small jar of pow fa so they could start dressing their hair in the style that would signify to all they were no longer girls but women. This process, long and complicated, was always done for a bride by someone else, but to demonstrate their self-reliance, they were doing it for themselves. None of them had actually combed their hair into any kind of a bun before, however. And although Shadow and her friends had decided they would avoid the elaborate styles designated for brides, she soon understood why families hired hairdressers for their daughters.

  Combing up her girlish bangs and applying the sticky pow fa was not hard, but making the hair stay in place was. By the time Shadow got every strand plastered down firmly, shafts of sun pierced the branches of the banyan trees. Hurriedly she gathered the rest of her hair, began braiding it into a single plait.

  Her childhood pair of plaits had allowed Shadow to drape her hair over each shoulder for braiding. The single plait meant she had to somehow accomplish the braiding behind her back, and her arms, held at awkward angles, quickly tired. Worse, strands of hair clung to her palms, which were moist with perspiration, and the plait she was making felt increasingly loose, about to unravel altogether.

  Wishing she and her friends had thought to practice on each other before trying it alone, Shadow abandoned the plait she’d been weaving, checked how Rooster and Mei Ju were faring. Rooster was doing no better than herself. Mei Ju had not only completed her plait but had wound it into a neat bun that she was pinning into place.

  Straightening her tunic, Mei Ju made her vows of spinsterhood in a strong, sure voice. “This woman named Wong Mei Ju will henceforth remain unmarried. She will remain pure, and she prays that you, Seh Gung, and you, Gwoon Yum, will give her your blessings and protection.”

  Inspired, Shadow returned to her task with renewed energy. Sunlight warmed the backs of her hands, her neck. And the closer she came to completing the transformation from girl to woman, the more powerful her pride, her joy, so that when at last she lowered her arms and made her vows, the words all but burst out of her.

  While planning for their new lives, Shadow had suggested that to signify their independence, they should go alone to their families to announce their vows of spinsterhood. “When we’re finished, we can meet at the rain shelter.”

  Her friends had agreed, and Rooster had added, “You and Mei Ju will have the furthest to go, so I’ll drop the basket off at the hut. To be honest, I won’t mind the delay since my parents are bound to be furious when I tell them what I’ve done.”

  She also warned, “You know my pockets are empty as always, and Old Bloodsucker won’t give me wages for the reeling he’s used to getting for free. Fact is, he’s so spiteful he’ll probably throw his weight around to make sure no one else in Strongworm will hire me—or you two either.”

  Mei Ju paled. “What’ll we do for money? I gave my savings to Grandmother after the big wind, and I’ve been turning over all my earnings to her since.”

  Shadow shrugged off her friends’ concern. “This silk season’s almost over anyway, and between my savings and selling our embroidery, we can make it.”

  “How will we get our embroidery to market?” Mei Ju fretted.

  “I’ll ask Baba to sell for you like he does for Rooster and me.�
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  Rooster squinted skeptically. “Old Bloodsucker doesn’t realize your father’s been helping me hold out on him by taking some of my embroidery to market along with yours. For your father to sell our work after we make our vows, though, he’d have to openly go against him. We’d best plan on selling through the sui haak, water peddlers.”

  That Baba, who went out of his way to avoid trouble, wouldn’t want to confront Old Bloodsucker, Shadow readily acknowledged. Baba was also likely to be angry with her for choosing spinsterhood. He’d been worrying over the need to increase the family’s income. And how could he accomplish that without more land, land he might have acquired with the cash from her bride price? Having overheard Mama sympathizing with Elder Sister-in-law’s homesickness, however, Shadow wasn’t afraid to face him.

  “I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that after twenty-three years, my heart still aches for my mother,” Mama had sighed. “And it won’t be long before I’ll have to part with Shadow. Fact is, a woman’s life is filled with loss.” She’d patted Elder Sister-in-law’s belly, the baby growing within. “If we’re lucky, this will be a child who won’t have to leave us, a son.” Surely Mama and Elder Sister-in-law would be pleased she’d found a way to remain in Strongworm. And Shadow was likewise certain of her brother’s support.

  The only time he’d ever been upset with her was when she’d confided her desire to teach Rooster and Mei Ju, and his anger then had sprung from his concern that if her knowledge of book learning—and his role in it—was discovered, it would be difficult for their parents to arrange good marriages for them. Now that was no longer a consideration.

  More importantly, where women with learning were condemned, women who vowed chastity were admired. So there was no reason Elder Brother shouldn’t share her happiness, and Shadow couldn’t wait to see his face when she took off her hat and revealed her womanly bun.

  Setting off for home, Shadow stretched her legs in long, eager strides. Her arms free of the basket, she knocked aside low-hanging branches with a toss of her hand, a swing of her elbows. Then Shadow noticed that where Mei Ju had easily kept pace with her earlier, she now lagged behind. Mei Ju had also turned white as mourning, and she was chewing her lips so brutally that they were bleeding. Clearly she was dreading her family’s reception as much as Rooster. More.

  Hurrying back to Mei Ju, Shadow linked their arms together and said, “Everything will work out. You’ll see. Mama will be happy that I won’t have to leave Strongworm, and Baba always bows to her in what he calls ‘women’s business.’ So if he’s angry with me for refusing marriage, which I’m guessing he will be, she’ll calm him down. And Elder Brother and Elder Sister-in-law will help her. Then, when Baba comes around, which he will, he and Mama can talk to your father and grandmother and Rooster’s parents and bring them around as well.”

  When combing up her hair and making her vows, Mei Ju’s hand had been sure, her voice strong. As she and her friends put on their widebrimmed straw hats to hide their buns until they reached home, however, her heart quailed.

  Trying to bolster her courage, Mei Ju told herself that if someone was abroad this early and noticed they had no plaits dangling down their backs or over their shoulders, it wouldn’t really matter because they weren’t going home to ask their families for permission to refuse marriage but to announce they’d vowed to remain pure forever, and no one would dare dismiss what had been declared before Heaven.

  Still Mei Ju’s heart and legs trembled, her belly quaked, and she tasted blood. In truth, she couldn’t have walked out of the banyan grove and through the village without Shadow’s steadying arm and warm assurances.

  To avoid prolonging the ordeal, Mei Ju had planned to announce, “I’ve vowed to remain unmarried forever,” to the first person she encountered at home. Just as she stepped over the raised threshold between street and common room, however, her arm brushed her father’s, and Mei Ju, startled, stammered, “I don’t want to marry.”

  Ba, who’d been reaching for his hoe by the door, grabbed it. Ma, lighting fresh incense on their family altar, hastily snuffed out the taper with her fingers, headed toward them.

  “Don’t want to marry?” Ba roared.

  He shook his hoe at Mei Ju, and her innards tossed as they had during the big wind.

  “If I tell you to marry a chicken, you’ll marry a chicken. If I tell you to marry a dog, you’ll marry a dog.”

  “Of course she will,” Ma said, stepping between Mei Ju and Ba.

  Mei Ju’s head spun, and she seized the back of the nearest chair to keep from falling.

  Ma, gently plucking at Ba’s sleeve, eased him out the door, all the while murmuring soothingly, “As Earth turns to the left, Heaven to the right, so man calls and woman obeys. This is the proper order to the universe. Our daughter knows that.”

  Ma’s tone turned hearty. “Mei Ju is like her name, a beautiful pearl. Yes,” she told his retreating back. “Mei Ju will fetch a large bride price, perhaps large enough for us to avoid borrowing.”

  “No,” Mei Ju wanted to cry. But her throat closed as it had on Ba’s skiff when she’d been too frightened to shout out an alarm, and although she opened her mouth, no sound came out.

  Ma whipped around. “Nuisance child!”

  Struggling to respond, Mei Ju tried to take off her hat to show she was a woman. But her fingers clung to the back of the chair as tenaciously as they had to the skiff’s gunnel, and she couldn’t pry them loose.

  “How dare you try and upset the order of the universe?” Ma demanded. “Don’t you realize a woman without a man is a vine without a stake to support her?”

  “I earn my own money,” Mei Ju forced out in a barely audible whisper. “I can support myself.”

  “Maybe you can feed yourself in life. But are you really such a wooden head?” Her words tumbling faster and faster, Ma repeated what Mei Ju already knew. “If you have no husband, no son, there will be no one to feed your spirit when you die. You’ll be a hungry ghost, wandering without a home, without any chance of rest.”

  “My ghost can marry a ghost like Eldest Cousin’s did,” Mei Ju rasped.

  “Your cousin had a family to make those arrangements for her. Your sister, too. You won’t.”

  Stunned, Mei Ju sank onto the chair.

  “Do you think you can disobey your father yet remain a member of this family?” Ma pressed. “Even count on us to find a host for your spirit when you die? Exactly which one of us were you expecting to do that for you? Your grandmother and father won’t. You can be sure they’ll teach your brother not to either. And why should they trouble themselves on your account?

  “I’m telling you, the most you’ll get as a ghost from anyone in this family will be a few scraps once a year during the Festival of Hungry Ghosts—just enough to hold you at bay.”

  While Ma threatened, Mei Ju pulled together the tattered remnants of her courage by silently repeating, “I’ll have Shadow’s family to call mine.” She prized her fingers from the chairback one by one, then tore at the knot under her chin, finally loosening it sufficiently for her to duck out of her hat, exposing her slicked back hair, her bun.

  “What are you playing at?” Ma snapped. “Comb that bun out at once! You’re just lucky your grandmother is in the outhouse and no one else is around.”

  Determined to get her announcement out at last, Mei Ju said, “I’ve made vows of spinsterhood.”

  “You’re not only a nuisance, but stupid! Charity spinsters shave their heads.”

  Stung, Mei Ju came back, “I’m not a nun dependent on charity. But I am a spinster. A sworn spinster. I vowed to Seh Gung and Gwoon Yum that I’ll remain unmarried forever.”

  Gwoon Yum’s Song

  SHADOW, her head pounding from the family turmoil that announcing her spinsterhood had unleashed, stumbled out of her parents’ house into the street. Blinking back tears, she secured the ties to her hat and plastered on a smile for any neighbors and acquaintances she might pass on
the way to her friends in the rain shelter.

  Behind her, the door to the house slammed shut. Shuddering, she willed herself not to look back, to hope Elder Brother would throw it open and come running after her, shouting belated congratulations. Because he wouldn’t. He was too worried about Elder Sister-in-law, who—coming into the common room from the kitchen at the same moment Shadow had pushed open the front door and slipped off her hat—had misstepped and almost fallen.

  At the time, Shadow had attributed the near accident to Elder Sister-in-law’s protruding belly. Now Shadow wondered whether it might have been the sight of her combed-up hair that had thrown Elder Sister-in-law off balance.

  When borrowing Elder Sister-in-law’s pow fa and pins, Shadow had said they were for playacting in the girls’ house. So how could Elder Sister-in-law have instantly understood the full significance of the womanly bun? Yet wasn’t instant recognition and support what she, Shadow, had expected from Elder Brother?

  Too late, Shadow wished she’d taken both her brother and sister-in-law into her confidence. Then they would’ve been sitting in the common room waiting for her return, ready to help explain to Mama and Baba why she’d vowed spinsterhood and combed up her hair. Instead, Elder Sister-in-law had tripped and would surely have fallen had Elder Brother not leaped off his stool and caught her.

  Although Elder Sister-in-law was safe, the scare had upset everyone. Shadow, unable to order her thoughts, couldn’t speak convincingly. She wasn’t sure Elder Brother, fussing over Elder Sister-in-law, was even listening. And Mama, furiously fanning Baba and herself, must have completely misheard. Why else was she spluttering like oil in a red-hot wok?

  Desperate to persuade her, Shadow brought up the little trunk in which she kept her savings, reminding Mama that it had been her gift, that she’d emphasized the importance of a wife retaining a measure of freedom by taking money of her own into her husband’s family. But before Shadow could finish, Mama began scolding her for failing to see the difference between a measure of freedom and turning Heaven and Earth upside down.