The 8th Sky_A Psychological Novel With An Unforgettable Twist

by Leigh Lyn

  Had I opened a can of worms?

  “No, it all happened. It just didn’t affect us much. My brothers and I joked about it all the time; they were not traumatized, and neither was I. The immigration guy was the inspiration for dangerous characters in my stories.”

  “Let’s talk about you and your brothers. You go on at length about the difference between boys and girls in your family.”

  “Nothing new under the sun, is it? Even Eve had to put up with the crap.” I shrugged. “Men wrote the ‘rules’ and gave themselves the upper hand. Full stop.”

  “Why is it this upsets you more than others?” Dr. Wen asked.

  “I reckon it was because of the women in my family, who enforce these rules. It felt like a betrayal by your own kind. When I was a kid, Niang would tell me the only reason she let me go to university was because she felt sorry for me. Never mind I earned a place and the government paid for everything. She had this charitable look on her face as she told me I should not study medicine, which was what I wanted for as long as I remember. She said it was because I was weak, because I cried when my pets died. With a stone-cold face, she added that, for women, family was more important than career and so trampled on everything I had worked for. She discarded my dream. That’s a hard pill to swallow, isn’t it?”

  “It is, but the meaning or logic of culture and tradition must be understood as shaped and historicized by the contexts and eras out of which they arose. To use today’s understandings and sensibilities to judge or bridge yesterday’s is a gross neglect of the fundamental fissure in meanings across different cultures.”

  Dr. Wen was on a roll. I took back what I said about therapists before, but I didn’t believe it was as innocent as that.

  “She chose tradition over me. She chose to betray me and be loyal to the past. When her own happiness was at stake, she chose to abandon it. I thought it would help me get it out of my system to write about it.”

  “True, but let it go, Lin. Otherwise, these negative thoughts will justify your feelings and your resentment will just grow bigger,” Wen said. “Spit out the pit when you eat cherries, you know, instead of blaming the cherry when you choke.”

  “I hear you, Doc, but why don’t I stop eating cherries altogether? She did. When my dad was alive, she shelved her beliefs without so much as a shriek. If she could disown her heritage, what gives her the right to tell me I can’t? Instead of granting me the freedom to choose, she turns it into my guilt trip.”

  “I have no reason to defend your mother.” Dr. Wen sighed. “But people are not born into a world they theorize over before they act within it; they join others already engaged in life and actions attuned to their social and physical reality without reflection. It is only when these engagements become problematic they need to think and come up with a narrative to account for them. Your mother has returned to a world where these values exist and still rule. She has no need to think about whether they are right or wrong even less than she has a reason not to abide them. Not anymore.”

  “Is that because she doesn’t think enough of me? Am I not worthy of her to think about?”

  “A philosopher once said people know what they do; they often know why they do what they do; but they don’t always know what their actions do. Have you told your mother how you feel, how unhappy that would make you?”

  “She crucifies me for being unfilial the second I begin, says I’m heartless and ungrateful and all that crap.”

  “Look, you must talk to her about this.” Dr. Wen shook his head. “This chip on your shoulder is weighing you down, and the knot of tension inside you is getting more tangled the harder you tug at it by yourself. You should try to disentangle it together with your mother. Work toward forgiveness.”

  For the little Dr. Wen knew, he appeared to be getting me. Should I tell him about my G.Y. visit and talk with Shi Gong?

  “What chip do you think I am carrying?”

  Dr. Wen put his pen down. “I normally stay away from rationalizing psychological or emotional issues, but you’re the kind of patient who does all the theorizing anyway. So, you may benefit from hearing this.” He raked the fingertips of his two hands against each other and stared at the cavity between them as if a crystal ball was nestled in it. “I would say that growing up with your feet in two different milieus contributed to a large part of the problem. Parental efforts to condition you to fit in a suppressive system pushed you to an extreme self-reliance and individuation on a subconscious level from a young age. Your experience with an unappreciative family on the one hand and death of your father on the other has caused extreme anxiety, which you repress and try to displace with a belief in personal omnipotence. You assume a sense of invincibility that empowers you and makes you ‘special.’ You believe your dedication and passion to your work will save you. On a subconscious level...” Dr. Wen’s piercing eyes looked right through me. “...you hope for someone or something to save you but, when it happens, you feel caged and dependent. And there’s a lack of trust, so you bounce to the polar opposite. You recognize the pattern?”

  Holy cannoli.

  “I don’t know.” I pursed my lips. “Is that my chip?”

  “No, that’s your pattern. Your chip… Apart from this issue with your mother, I haven’t figured out what your chip is yet.”

  What a relief.

  “Could it be because I have no chip?” I tried.

  Dr. Wen laughed. “Oh, you have one alright, and I’ll tell you when I find out what it is.”

  It’s you, Dr. Wen. You and your diagnosis of me had been my double-dipped chip all along. I felt an urge to shout it all out, but my aversion to the process would just yank the bloody can further open. In all fairness, Dr. Wen warned me.

  “I made this appointment because I’ve had a few flashbacks. As you said I might.”

  “What were they flashbacks of?”

  “Scenes that went down at Corinth and G.Y. before the episode.”

  “That’s normal. Are they disturbing to you?”

  “No, I was more curious than disturbed. But I am glad I remember at last.”

  “I shouldn’t worry too much. I’ll give you meds you can take in case the flashbacks come back too frequently. But you can expect things to get worse before it gets better.” Dr. Wen looked at his watch. “I’m afraid we have run out of time though. Make an appointment so we can continue next time.”

  Dr. Wen accompanied me to the door when I remembered his house in Saikung.

  “Did Frieda tell you we need to go to through the design of the house?”

  “It must have slipped her mind. I’m swamped with work, but my wife is the one with taste. I’ll tell Karen to call you.”

  Chapter 28

  Life resumed its humdrum after I returned from Chongqing. It felt banal how nothing yet everything seemed to have changed. The sky over the Fragrant Harbor was fluorescent; toxic-pink from the pollution blown over from the Pearl Delta. I sank into my chair and closed my eyes to focus on the right tone, the right words, and the right grammar.

  “Ni-men-yao-qiu-wo-gai-de-dou-yi-jing-gai-le-ma?” I pronounced every syllable with care. If enunciated well, this meant ‘We have already changed everything you requested, haven’t we?’

  At the other end of the line was Xiao Cai with his slobbery, thuggish Beijing accent that sounded like a Great Dane swallowing a turkey in one go.

  “TA MA DE! We arrange this huge meeting with the one official who may approve our plan, and you don’t even show up?”

  “My explicit instruction from the boss was that government liaison is not part of our scope in the contract.”

  Xiao Cai responded with a string of profanities.

  I swallowed the f-word as Stephanie glared at me over the top of her terminal. After a year of playing this game of musical chairs intended to prevent corruption by planning officers, we had soothed civil servants Number One to Five by amending our submission to suit their substantial lists of insubstantial and meaningles
s requests and preferences as fast as our weary minds allowed us. We were not to blame that there was still no approval. Ever since Hu Jintao had the Mayor of Shanghai and his gang arrested for corruption, a cloud had hung over the minds of the officials who seemed terrified.

  “My boss says fixing political situations of this magnitude is beyond our scope.” I swiveled and glanced down the rows of identical workstations to where Peter’s team was. “But if there’s anything else you want us to do?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what to do?” Xiao Cai yapped. “Official Number six wrote back saying he’s not convinced the scale of this development will have a positive impact on the surroundings.”

  “Good god,” I moaned. “Not again.”

  We were putting thirteen skyscrapers of fifty stories on a low-density site. It was not unlike taking a sliver of the Hong Kong I saw in front of me and slicing it into the Hong Kong I would have seen a hundred years ago. It seemed absurd from an urban planning point of view, and many times I had to explain that this is neither an architectural nor an urban issue, but a political/economic one.

  Mao’s spirit and his idea of the Great Leap Forward still lived on in the mega-size development schemes put up by mayors and municipal party secretaries today. How else did they sustain a double-digit growth and how else could party officials compete for the next spot up on the ladder of party leadership?

  On the upside, I’d gone through this so many times it had perfected my pitch. Accompanied by the sound of rolling drums, I pulled out the rhetoric, which, even if done well, was as tricky as serving steak without killing the cow. It worked the first time, and we got the certificate of approval because it was what a group of panic-ridden conflicted people at the Planning Department wanted to hear.

  Since the government’s anti-crime and corruption scheme escalated the conflict, I’d been using it till I was blue in the face to no avail. Neither soft-nor hard-boiled officials had the courage to give us the final stamp of approval. The crux of the matter was outside our professional expertise. Our problem was that we had to amend the plans until approval was granted. To say Xiao Cai was adamant to drag us down with the sinking project was an understatement.

  “Why don’t you talk to the official?” Xiao Cai asked.

  “You know it’s not our job to lobby for you, Xiao Cai. We only deliver the design. Did you tell the new guy we have the blessing from the ‘Expert Panel’?”

  I’d pinned the yellow certificate on the low cubicle wall in front of me. The red chop at the bottom of it had cost us a huge amount of effort to get, but its futility was blazing in my face like a miniature sun.

  “I did, but he was not impressed,” Xiao Cai said, with a growl. “Not after the official next door committed suicide.”

  “What?! When?”

  “Yesterday, which is a week after his arrest.”

  “That’s bad news. But when you bought the land you paid a premium to match ten towers of fifty stories. That stands for something, doesn’t it?”

  “You think so? That something turned into quicksand after they threw that lawyer in jail. Now they are growling about the setback line of the boundary not allowing enough greening. They want us to set back another twenty meters. On all four sides.”

  “You won’t have any site left.”

  “That’s why I have been thinking: you are much better at the architectural reasoning. Maybe you can talk to them about the benefits of our scheme. Come on, try it.”

  “Xiao Cai, you must get your boss to talk to the right person on top of the hierarchy, who gives his blessing to these officials to approve it. They’ll feel more secure.”

  “My boss doesn’t think so.” I closed my eyes and imagined bashing my head on the tabletop. “He says the politics at the top has gone berserk, and everyone is just second-guessing how the provincial secretary and his royal entourage will play their game of Go. Nope, we believe the best thing is if the architect convinces them the design involves no risks.”

  I imagined being dragged to an operation theater where they split my skull open to pick my mushy brain.

  “Did you hear me, Lin?” Xiao Cai asked.

  “Loud and clear.” I sighed. “But I have to remind you that, one year ago, we advised you to go for a scheme that is in full compliance without the need to get special approvals. We told you back then it was the ultimate risk-free scheme, but you rejected it. To cut a long story short, our current design is the result of a commercial decision your company made a year ago. It’s more profitable but not risk-free at all.”

  “In that case, I want the plans updated to the latest requirements by tomorrow,” Xiao Cai announced.

  I gasped. How was I supposed to tell our team, who had worked so hard on the last list that they had a new one to incorporate for tomorrow?

  “But Xiao Cai, these are delaying tactics. Unless you solve the problem, we would be updating to pointless lists till kingdom comes.”

  “Well, Official Number Six says he wants it tomorrow and I don’t want to aggravate him any more than he already is. So, let’s have it,” Xiao Cai insisted.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Okay,” Xiao Cai said, without hesitation. “Let’s have it in three days, but that’s all the time I can give you.”

  In a momentary slip of emotional reins after hearing the number three, I slammed the phone down. People were looking up with a mixture of pity and annoyance. Perturbed, I pulled my cardigan closer and started counting. At thirty-three, I’d stopped fuming; at forty-eight, I’d regained my composure; at fifty, I began to write a polite yet firm email response to Xiao Cai’s request; at fifty-nine, Stephanie’s phone started ringing.

  Seconds later, my cell rang and Ben’s grin filled the screen. Seldom had I been so glad to see him.

  “Hey sweetie,” I answered straightaway.

  I turned my back on Stephanie, who was on the phone with her classmate Xiao Cai, and got up to go to the coffee counter with my mug. “Sorry, but I missed that. Say again?”

  “I want to remind you about the trip,” Ben said. “It’s this Friday!”

  “What trip?”

  “Babe, remember Saturday’s dinner a week ago with Yuxi and Sam?”

  I pressed the button for a double espresso. “Yes, what about it?”

  “Remember New York?”

  “Sorry, I’ve been up to my neck in work, but what about New York?”

  “You said you’d come. Ask Yuxi and Sam, they were there.”

  “I did?”

  “Hell yeah. Peggy, my secretary, booked the tickets already, leaving Friday night. She said she texted you the details.”

  “What?!”

  “Come on, Lin! Just tell me if you’re coming!”

  Dazed, I combed my memory for the moment I told Ben I would come along. “Hang on, Ben! Things are in a conundrum here. It seems to be out of my hand.” I leaned backward to gaze down the aisle, but Stephanie was no longer at her desk. “I’ll call you back.”

  Mind you, I needed a break. Stephanie and Xiao Cai were passing the bucket despite Peter’s instructions that Corinth should not get caught up in the politics.

  “Where to this time?” A shrill voice squawked behind me.

  Startled, I turned and found myself face to face with Stephanie.

  “New York,” I squeaked. “For a week. It’s my friend’s art show.”

  Supervisor and subordinate feuds were common, but Stephanie’s and mine had crossed that line far and beyond.

  “It works out fine if the amended master-plan can go out on Friday morning. After that, we shouldn’t have anything else to do but wait for Xiao Cai’s bureau-trotter to submit it to Number six. It will take him some time to respond,” I pleaded. “I still have ten days of leave to clear.”

  Stephanie’s eyes wandered to the other side of the large open office, where Peter’s silhouette was discernible. “Alright, go if you like, but on two conditions. First, ask Xiao Cai what he likes us to do for the n
ext two weeks and discuss it with the whole team. Make sure they know everything.”

  Blood was rushing to my head.

  “That’s getting ahead of ourselves, Stephanie.”

  “Yeah well, I still want you to do it,” she said as, in my eyes, her nose grew to a point, her black beady eyes rolling in their little sockets. “Second, meet with Xiao Cai in Chongqing when you come back, I want you to fix any ill you have with him.”

  Across the office, Suki gave me a meaningful look. I felt like a hamster in a treadmill although Stephanie tried to turn me into a killer rodent, which would not help the project. So, I might as well step away and go to New York.

  “It’s only for ten days,” I said, bringing the news home to the twins that evening.

  Clutching her little hands together, Mimi begged, “Can we come?”

  “You have school, don’t you? Listen, stay here with Maria, who will take care of you, and I’ll bring you back a nice present each.”

  “Oh, Can I have a new aquarium for my tarantulas?” Maxy exclaimed.

  “You can pick one out from the pet-shop tomorrow.”

  Bribery was my most reliable trick in parenting.

  “I don’t know what I want,” Mimi said.

  “Why don’t you pick the destination of our next trip, Mimi?”

  The following day, I took the twins to their favorite restaurant for their cherished comfort food: fried chicken and pizza. After we got home, we played board games for hours. Though the twins had met Ben and they got along, I’d kept these parts of my life as separate as possible. As a habit, I partitioned them off from the rest of my life as well, which suited the twins fine. It made life with them simple and remote from everything else. I knew I shouldn’t shelter them and keep them in the dark about life, but how could I drag them through the disheartening mess I myself wanted to flee.

  Love for the twins sustained me and gave me the will to get out of the conundrum at one stage. How ironic that love was now compelling me back in and to dig deeper. Despite the warnings from Dr. Wen and Niang, my gut was telling me it was the only way.