Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party

by Ying Chang Compestine

  A small oil lamp stood lit on the dinner table. Mother sat on a low stool next to it, both hands wrapped around her knees. She stared into the darkness outside the window, looking small and helpless.

  She didn’t notice me until I walked over and touched her shoulder gently. “Momma, I’m home.”

  She looked up, her eyes red and puffy. “Do you know what you have done, Ling?”

  “He called Father an American spy.” I was too proud to tell her that Gao had spit on my face.

  “But, Ling, don’t you know who that boy’s father is, and what he can do to us?” Mother paused. “They accused me of sending you to murder a young revolutionary.” Mother rose from the stool. “Either you apologize or they’ll make an example of us.” She walked to where her nurse’s uniform hung behind the door.

  Anger burned inside me. I squeezed out each word between my teeth. “Apologize? No! Never!”

  With her white uniform in hand, Mother turned toward me. “I know what they’ve been doing to you at school. You haven’t done anything wrong. But I can’t take it anymore—the fear, not knowing what happened to your father, and watching you suffer. I wish you would just bend a little, like a bamboo in the wind. If they send us to a labor camp, we will be treated worse than animals.”

  Words choked in my throat. Mother sighed and walked out. I ran to the window in my bedroom and watched her drag her skinny body through the courtyard. For a moment, I pictured myself apologizing to Gao. But the thought of his ugly face wearing a victory smile made me decide that I would rather die.

  I sat down on my bed and took the belt out of my bag. Using a corner of my shirt, I buffed off the dark blood. With each stroke I felt more determined to fight.

  My thoughts drifted from my fights with Gao at school to the baby doctor underneath the blue sheet and finally to the rope that had been under Mother’s mattress. What would they do to Mother and me if I refused to apologize?

  At last, my eyelids grew heavy. I collapsed into bed. I prayed that a fairy godmother would take me to the Golden Gate Bridge. More than anything else, I prayed that she could bring Father home safely.

  But that night, I didn’t dream.

  Waiting for Daddy

  To my surprise, Gao wasn’t at school the next day or for several days after that. Yu and her gang whispered around me like annoying insects waiting for an opportunity to attack. Had I really injured Gao? If so, why hadn’t I heard from his father? I tensed up each time a stranger walked into our classroom.

  Since Teacher Hui’s disappearance, visitors from the countryside, the army, and various factories came to our classroom every day. They lectured about the importance of class struggle, the misery of the old China, and their happiness in the new paradise China. When I listened, questions filled my head.

  One chubby woman with a sour face came often. She talked about how Chairman Mao had made her life a thousand times better. Frowning down at my patched blue jacket and socks, now poking out the bottoms of my shoes, I thought she must be one of the few survivors from old China. Had she lost her father? Did she fight in the market for food or shop at the back door like Comrade Sin?

  Father had always told me that knowledge was the most important thing in life. Was class struggle an excuse to punish good people? I felt frustrated that I had no one to whom I could ask my questions.

  For the next few days, the weather stayed hot. Cicadas buzzed continuously. Gardener Zong’s dog sat under the big milk tree with his tongue hanging out inches long. The heat added to my anxiety as I waited for Gao’s revenge.

  One night, Mother woke me. The air was muggy, and the bamboo mat stuck to my shirt.

  “Do we need to go to the market?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. The only other reason I thought Mother would wake me was if Gao’s father had finally come to take me away.

  “No.” Mother handed me my clothes. “Hurry. Your father is at the surgery ward!”

  My eyes snapped open.

  “Is he all right?” I jumped out of bed. This was the first news about Father since they had taken him away.

  “He’s operating on Comrade Sin.”

  I quickly pulled on my skirt. My toes hunted under the bed for my shoes. “Why is he operating on stupid Gao’s father? Will they let him come home after that?”

  “I don’t know. No questions. Hurry!” Mother rushed out the door.

  “What time is it?” I asked, following closely.

  Mother put a finger in front of her lips and glanced at Comrade Li’s door. As we hurried down the stairs, I tried to keep my plastic slippers from flapping. Feeling dizzy, I reached for the rail, which was still warm from the day’s heat.

  The burning pavement drilled through my plastic sandals. We tiptoed across the empty courtyard. The moon shone brightly between thick white clouds that swam across the sky. Mother slipped through the air in front of me. In her white cap and robe she reminded me of a ghost from old Chinese stories.

  When we reached the hospital gate, Mother stopped.

  “I have to go back before they notice I’m missing,” she whispered.

  “You can’t come?” I knew how much she missed Father.

  She shook her head. “Hide near the gate of the surgery ward. Take a good look at your father but don’t talk to him; it’ll cause trouble.” Mother made a left turn and dashed toward the emergency room.

  I sneaked straight ahead, following the long outdoor pathway that led to the two-story surgery ward, surrounded by a high brick wall. The air was hot against my face. There wasn’t even a slight breeze.

  A bright streetlight stood over the entrance. As I approached the open iron gate, bugs batted against my face. I slunk past the gate and into the shadow of a magnolia tree. Its big white flowers gave out a sweet fragrance. Broken stone tables and benches were piled up along the short walkway leading to the building. At one time they were nestled among lush bushes and flowering trees in the garden. The building was mostly dark, except for the waiting room at one end of the first floor and two surgery rooms on the second floor. Shadows moved behind curtains. My heart drummed with happiness. One of the shadows was surely Father! Would he recognize me?

  I was about to walk closer to the building when two light beams pointed at the gate. I crouched down behind the tree just in time.

  A police jeep with a red flag hanging on the back pole stopped in front of the gate. Its horn honked twice. Were the police here because of Father? My hands turned clammy. Two men came out of the surgery ward. I held my breath and hoped one of them was Father.

  “Hello, comrades!”

  The high-pitched voice from the jeep belonged to Comrade Li! I had no chance of seeing Father if Comrade Li was here.

  The two men from the ward strode into the light. They wore white shirts and baggy blue pants. One was tall and chopstick-skinny; the other was short with a big, round belly.

  Comrade Li jumped out of the jeep and walked toward the men with his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you have a smoke?” His white shirt was unbuttoned.

  Belly walked up to the gate and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, took a puff, then passed it to Comrade Li. The cigarette gave off a choking smell. I swallowed to stifle a cough.

  “What’s happening in there?” Comrade Li pointed at the building with his cigarette.

  “Chang is almost finished with Comrade Sin,” said Chopstick. “But we wanted him to stay for a while longer to patch up a bunch of Rights. They were ambushed by some Lefts and are cut up pretty bad.”

  Comrade Li grunted. The glowing tip of his cigarette bobbed as he nodded his head.

  My breaths grew rapid. Father was really here! In a sharp voice, Belly asked, “So, Comrade Sin is in bad shape?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Comrade Li. “He’s been sick for some time. But he felt better today and called me over to have a drink.”

  “What happened then?” asked Chopstick.

  “After we ate a few ribs and drank some sorghum wine, he started to
throw up blood. I rushed him right over. That’s why I called you to get Chang here from the jail.”

  Sweat tickled my forehead. I was afraid to lift my hand to wipe it off. I tried to make sense of what they were saying. Was that why Gao hadn’t been in school, because of his sick father? They could bring Father here so quickly since they were keeping him in the city jail on Big Liberation Road. I couldn’t wait to tell Mother.

  Comrade Li let out a loud sigh. Smoke drifted around him. “I could have eaten more of those ribs … .”

  Ribs! Despite my fear, my mouth watered. How I missed Mother’s sweet garlic ribs!

  “What about the Barefoot Doctors? Couldn’t they have taken care of something like this?” asked Chopstick.

  Father had talked about the Barefoot Doctors. They were young peasants with only eight weeks of medical training. Chairman Mao used them to replace the doctors he’d killed or sent to labor camps. They were known for their loyalty to the Revolution but also for making mistakes, like leaving surgical equipment inside patients.

  Comrade Li took a puff on his cigarette. “I thought so. But Comrade Sin insisted that Barefoot Doctors are not ready for things like this. He wanted only Chang to operate on him. He kept saying, ’That’s why we keep Chang nearby, in case a party member needs to be treated.’”

  “After Chang fixes him, don’t forget us when you go drinking,” said Belly.

  “Yes, yes!” Comrade Li interrupted. “Stay here and guard the building. I need your jeep a bit longer. I am going to get more to eat. Let Chang work on the Rights. When I return, take him back to the jail.” Comrade Li climbed into the jeep and started the engine, grinding the gears. The tires squealed and released a burned-rubber smell as the jeep lurched down the road.

  They were going to put Father back in jail after he saved Gao’s father’s life. Shouldn’t they be thankful? Why did the police let Comrade Li boss them around? Was it because he was a friend of Jiang Qing? Would Mao let Barefoot Doctors treat him? Or maybe he never got sick.

  Chopstick swatted at insects attracted by the light. “Bloodsucking bugs! Worse than the bourgeois!” Slap. Slap.

  Belly laughed. “We are better off out here than inside. It’s an oven in there.” He took out his cigarette pack and walked outside the gate. Chopstick followed. Soon small clouds of smoke rose above their heads.

  I decided to sneak around to the back of the ward and see if I could get up to the second floor. Staying in the shadows, I moved close to the building.

  Above me, one lit window stood open without curtains. I saw no one inside, only tall shelves. It was the changing room, where the nurses and doctors dressed and washed their hands for surgery. I used to hide behind the shelves and surprise Father as he came out of surgery. I decided to climb in and wait for Father there.

  I crept toward the back end of the ward, where a narrow iron staircase led to the second floor. Doctors and nurses used it to come down to the garden on their breaks.

  Trash piled around the stairs stunk of rotting vegetables and rice. In the moonlight, scraps of newspaper, empty cans, and half-torn garbage bags looked like they’d been covered with a coat of frosting. I held the back of my hand in front of my nose and breathed between my fingers. Sweat plastered my clothes against my body. My feet became slippery in my plastic sandals. I took them off and tucked them in the back waistband of my skirt before stepping on the staircase.

  When I grabbed the rail, something stuck to my fingers. It felt like a banana peel. I was between the first and second floor when something cold splashed on my head. Blinded, I couldn’t help but give out a shriek.

  “Who is there?” a man’s voice cried out above me. “Hurry! Lefts! The Lefts are here!”

  I wiped my eyes with the back of my wrist. Soggy limp tea leaves stuck to me like leeches. Scrambling down the stairs, I ran toward the bushes near the courtyard wall. Two hands grabbed me from behind and threw me to the ground. Chopstick pulled me up and held my arms.

  “Who are you with? What are you doing here?”

  His raspy voice echoed in my ears. I struggled to free myself from his iron grip. He slapped my face with his greasy hand.

  My ears rang and I felt a knot in my throat. Inside I wept, Daddy, please come out now.

  “She can’t be with the Lefts.” Belly laughed. “She’s too young.”

  Chopstick twisted my arms behind me. “Get inside!” He pushed me into the building.

  Without long lines of patients waiting in the hallway, the surgery ward seemed much larger. I heard moaning before Chopstick pushed me into the waiting room.

  Bright bulbs dangled from bare wires. Two long benches in the middle of the room were crowded with wounded Red Guards. Blood oozed from all parts of their bodies. The stink of sweat and a metallic smell filled the steamy room. The walls began to swim before my eyes. I leaned against the dirty wooden door.

  Two doctors in white uniforms squatted before a Red Guard slumped at the end of one bench, studying a knife stuck in his leg. His left forearm covered his eyes. A cream-colored pail holding a roll of bandages and a few cotton balls sat next to them on the floor.

  “You sure it’s a good idea?” asked a round-faced doctor with a broken front tooth. “If you pull it out, he may bleed to death.”

  “What else do you suggest?” asked the other. “He can’t live the rest of his life with a knife in his leg.” Their countryside accent told me they were Barefoot Doctors.

  The Red Guard stirred and spoke. “Leave it alone. Let Chang deal with it.” The doctors looked at each other and stood up.

  That voice! I had not heard it in a long time, but I was sure it was Niu. Despite the heat, a chill gripped me. Would he die from bleeding? I bit my lip and stared at his leg. Blood oozed onto his shoe, staining it dark red.

  Chopstick turned to the crowd. “Anyone know this girl?” He let go of my arm.

  The doctors stopped arguing. Niu raised his hand and our eyes met. His face was pale, his eyes full of pain. I held my breath.

  “Anyone know her?” repeated Chopstick.

  If he told them who I was, it would bring more trouble to Father.

  Niu closed his eyes.

  At that moment, I realized I could no longer hate him so much.

  “Don’t waste time with her. Lock her up,” said Belly. “Let Comrade Li deal with her in the morning.”

  “Come with me, then!” Chopstick pinched my ear and dragged me to the opposite end of the surgery ward. He let go of my burning ear and opened the last door. As he pushed me through the doorway, I tripped and landed on something soft. Moonlight splashed in through a high, grimy window. I was lying on a filthy mattress. The reek of mold and other foul odors stirred my empty stomach. Chopstick spat on the mattress, closed the door, and locked it from the outside.

  Stacks of stained, smelly mattresses surrounded me. Mosquitoes and other bugs hummed about, attacking my nose, arms, and legs. I stood up and batted at them. Soon, I was too tired to fight. Stepping onto the stack below the window, I noticed the glass was broken. A grille of long iron bars locked me in. Through the bars, I could see the pathway that led to the main gate. All was quiet except for faint voices and footsteps from other parts of the building.

  If I stayed awake, I could see Father when he left the building. I hoped he could remove the knife from Niu’s leg soon. The pain on his face and the image of his bleeding leg made me feel sorry for him. Did he regret what he had done to us?

  Crickets sang short tunes in the courtyard, with three beats between each round. It grew tiring to my ears. I wished Father would walk out of the building now. But with all the wounded Red Guards, it could take hours. I sat down on one of the mattresses and struggled to keep my eyes open.

  A bumping noise from outside the door awakened me. Gardener Zong came in dragging a dirty mattress. His white T-shirt was soiled yellow, and his black shorts were secured above his hips with a belt made of long cloth bandages. Beads of sweat hung on his flat nose and round cheeks
. When he saw me, his eyebrows shot up.

  “What are you doing here, Ling? Your mother is worried to death about you!”

  I was glad to see his friendly face. I knew I could trust him. Busy street noises came from outside. My eyes ached from the sunlight glaring through the window. Thirsty and hot, I struggled to get up. My hair clung to the mattress. “Is my father still upstairs?”

  “Oh, no. They took him back to jail hours ago.” Gardener Zong laid the mattress on one of the stacks. “Go home, Ling. Now!” He waved his hand toward the door.

  How could I have fallen asleep! If I had stayed at the window, I wouldn’t have missed him. But I did have some good news; I couldn’t wait to tell Mother they kept Father close by.

  The hallway was now filled with moaning patients waiting in lines. I ran past a nurse, who pushed a squeaky wheelchair toward me. In it sat an old man folding his hands over his stomach, groaning. Empty soda bottles, smashed cigarette packs, and fruit peels were scattered on the floor. I took shallow breaths as I made my way out of the surgery ward and back to the street. A blue truck loaded with watermelons passed by, throwing up a cloud of dust. I felt dizzy in the hot sun, and my body itched as if thousands of ants crawled over me, especially my scalp. I ran as fast as I could but had to stop often to scratch my legs. They were covered with red bites.

  Mother and I met at the doorway.

  “What happened, my dear?” Mother threw her arms around me. The back of her blue shirt was damp with sweat. I wanted to enjoy this real hug from her, but I was too itchy. I freed my hands to scratch.

  “I didn’t get to see Father, but I know where—”

  “Oh, dear, what’s in your hair?” Mother took a step back from me. “Lice! Ling, you have lice.” She dragged me close to the window and into the sunlight. “Yes, it’s lice.”

  Howling Wolf

  Mother picked up a stack of old newspapers from beside the stove. Carefully, she checked every page before laying it around a stool, setting two sheets with Chairman Mao’s pictures on the counter. Months earlier, a nurse had been sent to prison as an anti-Maoist just because she lit her stove with a newspaper page with Mao’s photo on it.