Waiting

by Ha Jin

  “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “Geng Yang.”

  “Really? I think I know him.” She explained how she had met him the previous year when he came to Muji to accompany Commissar Wei to the border. “As I remember, he was very healthy, as rugged as a horse. How come he’s here?”

  “He has TB, but he’s all right now.”

  “Maybe I should go say hello to him.”

  “Yes, why not?”

  Then she regretted having suggested that, as a pang stung her heart and reminded her of the humiliation inflicted by Commissar Wei.

  “You should go see him,” Lin insisted.

  It was getting more overcast, so they turned back to the building. The ground was dusty, as it hadn’t rained for weeks. Dark clouds were gathering in the distance, blocking out the city’s skyline; now and then a flashing fork zigzagged across the heavy nimbuses. As Manna and Lin were approaching the building, a peal of thunder rumbled in the south; then raindrops began pitter-pattering on the roofs and the aspen leaves. A line of waterfowl was drifting in the northwest toward the Songhua River, where sunlight was still visible. Because Lin shouldn’t strain his lungs, he and Manna didn’t run and merely hastened their footsteps toward the front entrance.

  Lin’s room, on the third floor, had a single window and pale-blue walls. Two beds and a pair of small cabinets almost filled the room. Geng Yang was peeling an apple when Lin and Manna arrived. At the sight of them, he stood up in surprise. “Aha, Manna Wu, I’m so happy to see you again.”

  He put down the apple and the jackknife, wiped his hands on a towel, and extended his hand, which she shook gingerly.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked after they all sat down.

  “Almost two weeks.”

  “Really? Why didn’t we run into each other?”

  “I don’t know. Still, this is a small universe, isn’t it?” He laughed and resumed peeling the apple. He looked thinner than the previous year, but still very robust. He now wore a thick mustache, which made his face look rather Mongolian. Manna noticed his sinewy hands and felt that they were not made to handle fruit.

  Lin said to him, “I mentioned your name just now, and she said she knew you, so we came in to see you.”

  Geng Yang looked at Manna and then at Lin with a questioning smile. Lin said, “Oh, I forgot to mention Manna was my girlfriend.”

  “You’re a lucky man,” he said firmly, then looked at her again. His eyes were doubtful, as though asking, Really? How about Commissar Wei?

  She realized the meaning in his eyes, but without flinching she said, “How are you now?”

  “I’m okay, almost cured.” He stuck the knife into the peeled apple and handed it to her. “Have this please.”

  “Oh, I just had dinner.” She hesitated for a second as she remembered he had tuberculosis. “Can we share? I can’t eat the whole apple.”

  “All right.” He cut it in two and gave Lin and her each a half.

  The wind roared outside and the rain was falling, soon mixed with tiny hailstones. White pellets were jumping about on the window ledge and striking the panes. Geng Yang said, “God, what weather we have here! It hardly ever rains. But when it does, it shits and pisses without stopping like all the latrines in heaven have lost their bottoms.”

  Manna looked at Lin, who too seemed surprised by his roommate’s language. She wanted to laugh but checked the impulse.

  Then Geng Yang began telling them what the weather was like on the Russian border, where thunderstorms or showers were rare in summer. When it rained, it would drizzle for days on end and everywhere were mud and puddles. No vehicles could reach their barracks until at least a week later, so for days they had to eat mainly salted soybeans as vegetable. But the rainy season was short, as snow began in early October. By comparison, the short fall was the best season, when the dry weather would enable them to gather mushrooms, day lilies, tree ears, nuts, wild pears and grapes. Also, boars were fat before winter.

  After finishing the apple, Manna had to leave for her night shift in the Medical Ward. She put on Lin’s trench coat and went out into the torrential rain.

  Because Lin was well read in chivalric novels, the two roommates often talked about legendary heroes, knights, swordsmen, beauties, kung fu masters. Sometimes Geng Yang would comment on the young nurses who worked in the building: this one walked like a married woman; that one looked so dainty; another was handsome but not pretty, her face was too manly; the tallest one, whose behind was too wide, wouldn’t make you a good wife—she was a girl a man should play with only. On such occasions, Lin could say little because he didn’t know how to talk about women. He couldn’t help wondering why his roommate was so knowledgeable about female charms.

  In the beginning Geng Yang mistook Manna for Lin’s fiancée, since the word “girlfriend” could be understood in different ways, but later he came to know Lin had a wife in the countryside. “Boy, you’re in trouble,” he would say to him. “How can one horse pull two carts?”

  Seeing him too shy to answer, Geng Yang would add, “You’re such a lucky man. Tell me, which one of them is better?” He was winking at him.

  Lin wouldn’t talk to him about his wife and Manna, though Geng Yang pressed him. Tired of his questions, one morning Lin said to him, “Stop being so nosy. To tell you the truth, Manna and I never went to bed together. We’re just friends.”

  “Well, does this mean she’s still a virgin?” His broad eyes were squinting at Lin.

  “Heavens, you’re hopeless.”

  “Yes, I am hopeless where women are concerned. Tell me if she’s a virgin.”

  “She is. All right?”

  “Doctor Kong, how could you be so sure? Did you check her out?”

  “Stop it. Don’t talk like this.”

  “Okay, I believe you. No wonder she has a slim butt.”

  Despite being annoyed by his unrestrained way of talking, Lin was somehow fond of this man, who was so different from anyone he knew, straightforward and carefree. What is more, Geng Yang seemed to always speak his mind. As they got to know each other better, Lin began to reveal to him his predicament—he had tried to divorce his wife, but hadn’t succeeded. He was eager to seek advice from him, because apparently Geng Yang was a man full of certainty and capable of decisive action, a real go-getter.

  One afternoon, after a two-hour nap, Lin told Geng Yang that in the past summers he had asked his wife for a divorce, and she had agreed, but later she had changed her mind in the court, saying she still loved him.

  “What did she want, do you know?” Geng Yang asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Why did she say that after she had agreed?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “There must’ve been some reason.”

  “I think my brother-in-law was behind everything. He’s the source of the trouble.” Lin was too ashamed to tell him about the scene outside the courthouse.

  “If so, you should keep him out of it next time.”

  “How could I do that?”

  “There must be a way.” Geng Yang lifted a honey jar he used as his drinking glass and took a sip of tea.

  Lin went on, “You know, in the villagers’ eyes my wife is perfect. I can’t do anything too awful.”

  “I know.” Geng Yang chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Divorces are of course rare in the countryside. I heard of only one divorce in my hometown—the woman was caught in bed with the master of the elementary school by her husband. The husband took both the adulterer and adulteress to the commune administration. The militia broke the schoolmaster’s leg, and he was jailed for three months. So the husband divorced his wife. If you’re really concerned about losing face, you shouldn’t try to divorce your wife.”

  “But I’ve already started it.”

  “To be honest, if I were you, I wouldn’t think of leaving my family. I’d just keep Manna as my woman here. A man always has more
needs, you know.” He grinned meaningfully.

  “You mean I should have her as a mistress?”

  “Good, you’re learning fast.”

  Lin sighed and said, “I can’t do that to her. It would hurt her badly. Also, it’s illegal.”

  Geng Yang smiled thoughtfully. A trace of disdain crossed his face, which Lin didn’t notice. Outside in the corridor, an orderly was wiping the floor, the mop knocking the baseboards with a rhythmic thumping.

  “Forgive me for my candid words,” Geng Yang said. “We’re army men and shouldn’t talk and think too much about a decision that has already been made. If you’ve decided to divorce your wife, you must carry it out by hook or by crook. What’s the good of being a good man? You can’t be nice to everybody, can you? In this case, damage is unavoidable. You have to choose which one of them to hurt.”

  “I can’t.”

  “To be honest, Lin, I don’t think the divorce is that hard, but you’ve made it hard for yourself.”

  Lin sighed again. “I really don’t know what to do.”

  “You’ve been shilly-shallying and made yourself miserable. I’ve handled hundreds of men for many years. I know your type. You’re always afraid that people will call you a bad man. You strive to have a good heart. But what is a heart? Just a chunk of flesh that a dog can eat. Your problem originates in your own character, and you must first change yourself. Who said ‘Character is fate’?”

  “Beethoven?”

  “Yes. You know so much, but you can’t act decisively.” He closed his eyes and recited another quotation. “ ‘Materialist dialectics holds that external causes are merely the condition of change whereas internal causes are the basis of change.’ Who said that?”

  “Chairman Mao in On Contradiction.”

  “See, you know everything, but nothing can make you steel yourself. If you really have the will to change, you can create the condition for change.”

  “But my case is not so simple.”

  “Chairman Mao also said, ‘If you want to know the taste of a pear, you must change the pear by eating it yourself.’ Trust me, my friend, sleep with Manna. If you find her good in bed, you’ll be more determined to get a divorce.”

  “No, that’s crazy!”

  Although the talk didn’t help Lin find a solution, by chance Geng Yang confirmed to Manna that Lin was still trying to leave his wife. One evening the three of them ate muskmelons together, sitting on the stone curb at the front entrance to the hospital, where vendors from the suburban villages were selling fruits and other foods. Geng Yang would not chip in for the melons, insisting that since he wouldn’t be able to attend their wedding after Lin divorced his wife, the future bride and groom ought to give him a treat in advance.

  He said to Lin, “I know your wife will say yes in the court next year. Don’t worry about that. I’ll help you figure out a way to end your marriage. Be a generous bridegroom now.”

  Both Lin and Manna were pleased with this accidental revelation, which corroborated Lin’s claim that he was still looking for a way to obtain a divorce. The previous year, when he showed Manna the article in the county newspaper about the attempted divorce, she had been heartbroken, wondering whether Lin would give up his effort altogether. After three months’ consideration she had decided to let the judge have her name if necessary. Lin was touched by her determination and courage, saying he would do everything he could. Still, sometimes she couldn’t help feeling that he had been using her—just to keep a woman around and make her work for him, although afterward she would check her thoughts and remind herself that he was a good-hearted man and wouldn’t hurt her purposely. Now, she was so glad he had been seeking advice from his roommate that she bought a pound of strawberries from a fruit vendor.

  “Help yourself,” Manna said to Geng Yang pleasantly, and placed the paper bag containing the strawberries on the curb.

  “Your treat?” He grinned at her.

  “Yes.”

  8

  Lin’s condition improved rapidly. His face returned to its normal paleness. After two months’ treatment, the spot on the upper lobe of his left lung had shrunk to the size of an almond. The prognosis was that it would calcify soon. His recovery was mainly due to the newly invented herbal drug named Baibu, with which the hospital had treated some of its tuberculous patients. Whereas streptomycin remained more effective on most of the patients, some of them reacted to the herbal drug miraculously. To Lin’s amazement, the injections he had received, along with cod-liver oil and vitamins, had cured his arthritis as well, although both sides of his hips were now covered with painful swellings, which gave him a slight limp.

  Toward the end of November, when he had entirely recuperated, Lin was ordered to go to Shenyang to attend a program designed for officers, studying Marx’s Theories of Surplus Value. He was eager to go, not because he was interested in the book but because his alma mater was in that city. He wanted to revisit some places he remembered.

  Officially Geng Yang was already discharged from the army, but he was still waiting to be released from the hospital, which had to make sure his tuberculosis was fully cured. His departure for home was imminent. So a few days before Lin left for Shenyang, he and Manna decided to treat Geng Yang to dinner in a restaurant. They asked Ran Su for permission to go to town, which the commissar granted them, but the three of them had to be together outside the hospital.

  They took a bus downtown. It was Sunday and the streets were crowded, vendors shouting and greasy smoke rising here and there on the sidewalks. They arrived at Four Seas Garden at about noon. After entering the restaurant, they climbed the dingy concrete stairs and found an octagonal table on the second floor, where diners were fewer and less noisy than those eating and drinking downstairs. Geng Yang removed his fur hat and hung it on the ear of an iron chair. So did Lin and Manna. The moment they sat down, a middle-aged waitress in a red apron came and took their orders. They would have a few cold dishes—pork head, pickled mushrooms, baby eggplants, and salted duck eggs. As for the entrée they ordered dumplings stuffed with pork, dried shrimps, cabbage, and scallions. In spite of Manna’s admonition, Geng Yang added a liter of stout.

  First came the beer in a huge mug, fizzing faintly. Geng Yang lifted it up and said with a smile, “Cheers!” Lin and Manna raised their smaller mugs containing merely hot water.

  “You don’t want your lungs anymore?” Manna said to their guest as he swallowed a gulp.

  Geng Yang grinned, displaying his square teeth. “My lungs are rotten already.” He dashed a lot of chili oil onto his plate, while Lin and Manna spooned some mustard onto theirs, waiting for the dumplings. Outside, four sparrows perched on the window ledge, which was coated with soot that looked like rat droppings. The birds were chittering and shivering with the blasting horns of the automobiles passing on the street. One of them had a blind eye, whose corner carried a drop of frozen blood. It was snowing lightly, a few snowflakes swirling beyond a pair of power lines slanting across the window. The sky had grown overcast, shimmering a little. A male voice cried below the windows, “Fresh pike, just out of the river this morning.” A woman chanted, “Fried dough twists, sweet and warm, fifteen fen apiece.”

  The cold dishes and the dumplings came together; for a moment steam obscured the tabletop. Lin was glad they didn’t have to wait long. Geng Yang picked up a chunk of pork ear and put it into his mouth. Munching it, he said, “This is delicious!”

  With chopsticks Lin and Manna raked a few dumplings onto their plates. They exchanged glances, and he realized she was thinking the same thought—this was the first time they had eaten together in a restaurant. A miserable emotion surged in him, but he remembered they had company and made an effort to take hold of himself. Meanwhile, Manna kept her eyes on the table, as though not daring to look at either man. Lin tried to be cheerful, urging their guest to eat to his heart’s content. That was hardly necessary, since Geng Yang was helping himself comfortably.

  Halfway through
dinner, the guest claimed that it was too bad he wouldn’t be able to drink their wedding wine. At the word “wedding,” Lin and Manna fell silent, their faces gloomy.

  “Come on,” Geng Yang said, “don’t be so sad. We’re still alive and should enjoy ourselves.”

  “If only I knew what to do.” Lin massaged his forehead with his fingertips while chewing a garlic leaf that served as garnish for the sliced pork head.

  “Try again next year,” Geng Yang said. “If I had a beautiful woman like Manna with me, I’d do anything. Cheer up, Lin, remember you’re lucky and you should be grateful.”

  “Grateful for what?”

  “For everything you have.”

  Lin shook his head while Manna’s eyes were moving back and forth between the two men’s faces.

  A moment later she asked Geng Yang, “Can you give us some advice?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t like the idea of divorce. But if you two really want to live together as husband and wife, you’ll have to go through this thing.”

  “We know that, but how can I bring about the divorce?” Lin asked, cutting a dumpling in half with his chopsticks.

  “There must be a way. Even if a goose has an iron neck, it must have a spot where you can plunge a knife in.”

  “Tut-tut,” Manna said, “don’t brag. Say something specific.”

  “I’m not in your shoes. But one thing I know for sure: if you spend some money, it will work. Say, give Shuyu two thousand yuan.”

  “No, no, you don’t understand,” Lin said. “She doesn’t want any money. She’s a plain, simple-hearted woman.”

  “I don’t believe that. If you spend money on the right person, I’m sure it will help. With money you can hire the devil to grind grain and cook dinner for you.”

  Neither Lin nor Manna said another word, surprised by his assertion.

  Geng Yang continued, “Come on, don’t look at me like I was a zombie or something. I can prove what I said is true.” He pointed his chopsticks at Lin’s chest. “For example, three years ago a regimental commander in my division had a young woman, a journalist from Beijing, detained in his barracks and wanted to spend a week with her. Then her colleagues sent a telegram to the Shenyang headquarters, and the officer was ordered to release the woman immediately. He had no choice but to let her go. Afterward we all thought this man would be either demoted or discharged. There was an internal report criticizing him severely, and we all believed he was a goner. Do you remember that bulletin?”