A Song Everlasting

by Ha Jin

  Tian shook it. Jesse’s grip was firm, but he was amazed that his palm was quite small compared to his burly build. Jesse then explained that actually he’d have to talk with the marketing director, because he himself couldn’t make such a hire. But he was greatly impressed by how enthusiastically the audience had responded to his performance, and he’d love to have him here. He would let Tian know the final decision within a week.

  Tian returned to Quincy in a cheerful frame of mind and told Funi about his visit to Twin Waters. She believed they would offer him a job. “It’ll be like a windfall to them,” she said. “The Chinese employees there must’ve told them how famous you are. You can bring more visibility to the casino for sure.”

  “I don’t know,” he said and sighed.

  Her reference to his former reputation only made him sad, but he told her that if he got the job, he would help her find a boyfriend. She swatted his shoulder and said she could live just fine without a man. Deep down, he was grateful to her and longed for an opportunity to sing every day.

  Now that Funi was taking the subway to work, she let him use her car during the day. He felt exhilarated with a car at his disposal, able to go anywhere with ease. He told his wife about his audition at the casino, but she was unimpressed and said only that it would do as a temporary job. Obviously she still thought of him as a star. She couldn’t see how hard it was to carry on here, how his career was in limbo.

  He also told her that he already had a driver’s license, which impressed her more than the audition. She told him to be careful when he drove, saying he was always clumsy with his hands and feet. If she were here, Tian thought, she would have seen he could be quite handy, able to install ceiling fans, change door locks, repair driveway cracks, set ceramic tiles and wood floors, and make window screens like a professional.

  He remembered that Shuna used to say he could do only two things well: sing and cook. But surely there were other potentialities in him, which nobody, including himself, would find unless he was given the opportunity to tap and develop them. Emigration was surely a way of self-discovery.

  “Do you have a car?” Shuna asked.

  “No, but I can drive Funi’s car. She takes the train to work now and doesn’t need to drive during the day.”

  “Huh, you and Funi really share a lot of things.”

  “Come on, now, don’t be so sarcastic. She’s generous to me. Without a car, it would be hard for me to get around.”

  “I hope you won’t take advantage of her generosity.”

  “Of course not.”

  He was reluctant to exchange words with her like this for much longer. Lately her barbed remarks had been putting him on edge, or on the defensive. “Tell Tingting I love her,” he said, as a signal for ending their conversation for the day.

  On Friday afternoon Jesse called and offered Tian a job. He was to work full-time, five days a week, and the hours would vary depending on their programming needs. On Thursday evenings he’d sing English songs with some professional singers and instrumentalists in Twin Waters Theater, the biggest venue at the casino. The other days he would perform at the Atrium, the bar lounge, and could sing whatever he chose. They’d pay him five hundred dollars a week, but he could eat at their buffet free of charge. There’d also be some benefits, including basic health insurance. Tian was pleased about the offer and accepted it on the phone. Jesse sounded pleased and then told him that initially they had intended to employ him gig by gig or part-time, but some Chinese employees at the casino had convinced them that Tian might bring visibility to Twin Waters, so they decided to hire him full-time instead. “I really appreciate this,” Tian said. “This job means a lot to me.”

  Despite the casual work arrangement, Tian could tell he was a significant component in their daily entertainment program. He performed on the small stage in the bar lounge, except for Thursdays, when he sang in the casino’s theater with some professional performers, even some pop stars. In the lounge there was always a crowd gathering to listen to him. Most of them were Asian tourists who were there to gamble only as a lark or just to accompany their gambling spouses and friends. Once an old Chinese woman told him, “I heard you sing red songs back in China, but I had no idea you could sing pop songs and English songs so beautifully and with such genuine feeling.” He was touched by her compliment and realized he was a different singer now. His Chinese fans even responded warmly to the English songs he managed to deliver, though he was never sure how adequately he did them: “I Won’t Last a Day Without You,” “My Favorite Things,” “My Own True Love.” Jesse and the other American coworkers were encouraging and showered praises on him if they especially liked a song.

  Tian loved Hank Williams and once sang “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” but the result was a minor fiasco—he couldn’t reproduce Williams’s deep guttural voice and his smooth performance of the country song only seemed to confuse his listeners. Jesse smiled and said, “I have to say it’s too sweet.” Tian was embarrassed and didn’t attempt Hank Williams again.

  Within two months after he’d started at Twin Waters, word spread that Yao Tian was working at a casino now. Heated discussions revolved around him. Some people argued that his employment at Twin Waters was a disgrace, while others said it was just a job he needed at the moment so that he could survive in America, where most immigrants must adapt to circumstances. A weekly newspaper in Guangzhou wrote about his presence at the casino. Attached to the article, “Yao Tian’s Plight,” were two photos of him singing, his figure superimposed over a stock image of a garish gambling hall. The article described Tian’s work as a kind of self-degradation—performing purely to make money and to entertain gamblers. The writer also hinted that he’d brought this disgrace on himself, having abandoned an illustrious career in China to become a mere lowly entertainer in America. “Yao Tian has chosen capitalism over socialism,” the article concluded. “We can see his tragedy and also learn a lesson from it: Nobody can thrive if he has deserted his motherland.” Then The Global Post, an international branch of The People’s Daily, published a similar article, singling him out as a warning to all Chinese: “Whoever doesn’t serve our country or even works against her will come to grief sooner or later. Yao Tian illustrates how a small misstep can lead to a disaster.”

  The Global Post article was picked up by numerous other news sites and stirred some controversy among readers. Someone wrote an article, a rebuttal, on Creaders.net, addressing the author of the piece in The Global Post: “Yao Tian himself might not feel the same way you do. Maybe he enjoys living alone and honestly. Maybe he prefers the freedom of a pauper to the ill-gotten luxury of a prince. I can’t see anything tragic in his effort to strike out on his own.” A reader commented on the same site, “Instead of joining the chorus of condemnations, we ought to admire Yao Tian’s personal choice and his courage, and we ought to wish him the best of luck.” But another reader rejoined, “It serves Yao Tian right. Anyone who betrays our country will suffer similar humiliation in the end.” Some pitied Tian for his loss and failure; some lamented how hard it was for any Chinese artist to survive once they wandered beyond the sphere of Chinese culture; some supported Tian’s decision to leave China because they saw freedom as essential, like fresh air and clean water; some declared that nobody was qualified to judge Tian’s situation—like how a foot fitted in a shoe, only the wearer alone could tell.

  A reporter at The Beijing News phoned Tian and asked for his response to the article. He only said, “I’m still an artist. No matter where I am, I can still sing my heart out. I feel liberated because I am singing the songs I love. Back in China, I often sang propaganda that I hated. It made me miserable in spite of my cheerful appearance, in spite of my fame as a star. So I don’t regret having immigrated. My current hardships are a necessary step for my future growth.” He took the opportunity to add, “I’ve been separated from my family for four years. My wife is no
t allowed to come visit me. This is entirely arbitrary, gratuitous—we’re suffering for no purpose. I appeal to those in power to show compassion to my family and allow my wife to come join me!” Of course the newspaper printed none of his words about his separation from his family, though the young reporter did tell him that she liked what he’d said.

  Yabin did his part to defend Tian too. He wrote a long piece on the Literary City website, saying that Tian was simply making an honest living, and people ought to admire his ability to adapt to new circumstances and confront adversity. “You all must keep in mind,” he went on, “that Yao Tian is a husband and a father. How many of you, given the same setback, could also continue doing everything to support your families? We should applaud his integrity and fortitude!”

  After Yabin’s piece was posted, most of the negative chatter faded off, though Tian suspected that people still whispered about his disgrace and downfall.

  32

  Yabin came to see Tian on the last Sunday of August. He was facing a crisis: Laura’s father had been imprisoned in Beijing. The man had been in charge of foreign currencies in a state-owned bank. During the past decade he had received tens of millions of dollars in bribes—kickbacks from helping real estate companies and large corporations secure loans. He had also accepted more than a dozen apartments in major Chinese cities, given to him as gifts. Without an actual charge he was held in custody, but his family couldn’t find out his whereabouts. Obviously his case involved some high-ranking officials who had also taken bribes, so they had kept him in total isolation for now. All his family had been told was that he was being detained by the Party’s Central Commission for Discipline Inspection. They were sure he was being interrogated, if not physically tortured. Laura’s mother begged the investigators to pass this message on to him: Whatever happened, his family would stick by him.

  Tian found the wife’s attitude was quite extraordinary, considering how many corrupt officials, once arrested for interrogation, were abandoned by their mistresses and families and friends. But Yabin corrected Tian when he praised Laura’s mother. They were seated in the Starbucks near the train station, and Yabin said, “This isn’t so simple. There are many ramifications we can’t foresee.”

  “They won’t execute him, will they?” Tian asked. “Laura’s father committed an economic crime, not violence or treason—he might do some years in prison, or at most be sentenced to life.”

  “But Laura is facing the problem of where she should go.”

  “Obviously she can’t go back,” said Tian.

  “Her family is urging her to stay in America and start to apply for immigration.”

  “You mean as an immigrant investor?”

  “Correct.”

  “She’ll have to plunk down half a million dollars for that, won’t she?”

  “That’s not a problem. Tian, just between you and me, her family has transferred a substantial amount to her. I don’t know how much, but it should be enough for the rest of her life. If her two siblings come to North America as well, they won’t need to worry about money either. That’s the impression I got from Laura.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be difficult for her to decide.”

  “Indeed, she should do her best to immigrate, but she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to keep the money in the States. The Chinese government and the White House have been working on an agreement to get illicit wealth back to China. If this pact is made, it might not be safe for Laura to live here.”

  “Rest assured, the White House won’t be that cooperative with the Chinese government.”

  “Of course it will, because the United States can dock thirty percent of the illegal funds before they are returned to China. Money can make the devil grind your grain, and the Americans can be very active in cooperating with the Chinese police.”

  “Does Laura have alternative plans?” Tian asked.

  “Yes, she might go to a third country secretly, taking her money with her. In fact, I suspect she might already have bank accounts in other countries.”

  “In Switzerland?”

  “Also Canada, the Virgin Islands, and elsewhere.”

  “Then she shouldn’t need to worry too much.”

  Yabin sighed and took a large sip of his mocha. “She’s all right indeed, but this puts me in a bind. She wants me to leave this country with her.”

  “Well, do you love her?” Tian felt silly raising such a question. It was already extraordinary that Yabin had been with her for as long as he had. In the back of Tian’s mind lingered another issue: Laura’s money hadn’t been made honestly and should not belong to her. So he wasn’t eager to help Yabin figure out what to do; he didn’t want to see his friend involved with such a woman for much longer.

  “I’m fond of her,” Yabin said. “She’s very generous to me and loves me. I am serious about her.”

  “Can you imagine living with her for the rest of your life?”

  “Frankly speaking, I’m not sure.” Yabin shook his head, batting his large eyes.

  “Do you know where she’d like to take you?”

  Yabin shook his square chin and grinned. Apparently he was reluctant to share the information. He said, “It’s not Paris of course, otherwise I wouldn’t feel so torn. I would head for Paris with her in a heartbeat.”

  “You have already taken root in America, haven’t you? Your real estate business is picking up and I’m sure you’ll become a successful real-estate agent in this area. Can you give up everything you already have here?”

  “That’s the question I’ve been wrestling with.” He heaved a feeble sigh. “She promised me many things.” Yabin ran his fingers through his thick hair, which had a sprinkling of gray.

  Tian didn’t press him for details. His friend had changed quite a bit, no longer a lighthearted ladies’ man—perhaps because Laura had let him taste the luxuries money could buy, or because, pushing forty now, he felt tired and eager to settle down. Nevertheless, Tian was sure Laura wasn’t someone who could possess Yabin emotionally, and it was hard for him to imagine the two loving each other devotedly. Tian felt it unlikely that Yabin would leave America with Laura.

  * * *

  —

  Cindy Wong called one evening in late October. She wondered whether Tian could join the Divine Grace for the holiday season once more. There still lingered a trace of bitterness in him for the way they had dismissed him two years earlier, but he listened to her offer. Cindy said they’d heard about his singing at Twin Waters. People were praising his performances there, saying he sang even better than before. Some Chinese-language newspapers on the East Coast had written about his new style, characterizing it as his artistic development.

  “I know you might still feel hurt, Tian,” Cindy said calmly. “But my colleagues all respect you and know you were wronged, and that the ridiculous accusation two years ago was groundless. Our new accountant here knew the woman—what’s her name?”

  “Freda Liu,” he said.

  “Yes, our accountant said she was a bitch and would bring disaster to anyone who got close to her.”

  He couldn’t bad-mouth Freda behind her back, so he only said, “I’ll have to speak to my employer at the casino first. I have a full-time schedule at Twin Waters.”

  “Understood. You don’t need to make a decision now. I’m just giving you a heads-up.”

  Her offer was good news to him. The troupe was better known now and even performed in foreign countries from time to time. Though without a passport it was inconvenient for him to travel outside North America, he could go to Canada and Mexico on refugee papers. No doubt Cindy’s offer was an opportunity he should seize.

  He spoke with Jesse about whether he could work part-time for Twin Waters. Jesse said the casino actually would prefer to have Tian as a part-timer—some of the musicians on their roster were part-time—but Tian sh
ould be sure that this was what he wanted. Jesse also added that if Tian worked part-time, they’d pay him by the hour, but Jesse would do his best to give him a good rate. If his hours were reduced, he would no longer be entitled to the health insurance and the other benefits. That made Tian hesitant to reduce his hours there. He was healthy and still vigorous, yet he needed some basic coverage.

  After speaking with Shuna—who, still hurt by the Chinese media gossip on his employment at Twin Waters, urged Tian to quit the casino altogether, but he was unwilling to do that because it was yearlong work, whereas the Divine Grace performed only in winter—he spoke with Cindy and asked whether the troupe could cover his travel expenses if he didn’t travel with them, and instead joined them only in the cities where they were to perform. To his delight, she said that was not a problem, since a few members had done that before. As long as he turned up before the show, it would be fine. So he decided to cut his weekly hours at Twin Waters to eighteen. Such arrangements would enable him to go on tours with the Divine Grace. Shuna was pleased to hear this. She always emphasized, “You must treat yourself as an artist. If you don’t take yourself seriously, who will?” Unlike Tian, she usually could see things in a broader perspective and even several steps ahead, but she didn’t really have a handle on his situation here.

  He phoned Cindy and informed her of his decision to rejoin their troupe. She was elated and promised this would be a long-term job, which implied they would book him for every holiday season from now on, from mid-December to late February.

  “The troupe will be thrilled to hear that you’re joining them,” Cindy told him.

  He thought that must be true.

  * * *