by Ha Jin
—
Finally Yabin made up his mind. He would leave with Laura for Canada before Thanksgiving and might settle there permanently. He wouldn’t disclose his exact destination, which Tian suspected must be somewhere in Quebec, since in recent months Laura and Yabin had gone to Montreal several times. Tian knew Laura’s money was tainted, but money was money and didn’t smell and could help one live comfortably and even move ahead in the world. He wondered whether he’d have made the same decision if given Yabin’s opportunity. Probably not. Didn’t he turn down four million dollars three years ago?
Then he wondered what he would have done if they had offered him forty million instead of four. He had to admit that might have tipped the scale. He knew that his integrity wasn’t limitless, so he mustn’t feel morally superior to Yabin. Like everyone else, the man had been struggling with the same problem: how to achieve security.
Yet Tian remembered Yabin had told him long ago that the price for freedom was uncertainty. To that Tian had echoed, “Of course certainty isn’t the human condition.” Just three or four years back they both had seemed to possess the willpower and strength to find their way in America, to fulfill the promise of their lives, and to reach their destinations they had envisioned: Tian was to become a great singer and Yabin a self-made man, a reputable activist in fighting for human rights in their native land. Reflecting on those hopeful days, Tian felt saddened by his friend’s change of direction.
Tian had always suspected that money was a corrosive force that could undermine one’s resolve to pursue one’s vision. Clearly Yabin had chosen money over struggle. He even told Tian that he’d have no use for his real estate license anymore. In his heart Tian knew that an effortless life would be a meaningless life, but he couldn’t tell his friend this. He just reminded himself not to become lost in making money as Yabin had.
Still, Yabin and Laura’s departure threw him into a mild depression. Yabin had been the only genuine friend he could turn to whenever he ran into trouble. Now he felt more lonesome, more isolated, and as if unready to face his future alone.
PART FOUR
33
Life had become more stable since Tian restarted touring with the Divine Grace. When he wasn’t traveling, he’d ride the bus from Quincy to Twin Waters two or three times a week. Usually he worked on Wednesdays and Saturdays. With two incomes now, he managed decently, sending a thousand dollars home every month. His bank account had grown considerably during the winter. He could afford to find an apartment for himself, something he’d wanted for a while, but these days he’d been having second thoughts. He liked sharing the place with Funi. Her presence gave him some feeling of companionship, however vague and illusory that might be. He was rather mystified by such an emotional change in himself—he had always enjoyed solitude and independence.
Despite moving in different circles, Funi and Tian got along well and had no major disagreements. He didn’t use any of her things without telling her beforehand and paid his share of the rent and utility bills promptly. Sometimes they didn’t see each other for three or four days in a row. On holidays, such as the New Year and the Moon Festival, they would share a simple meal, either cooked by both of them together or bought from an eatery or restaurant. Funi had plain tastes and liked to eat almost anything—“a typical Cantonese,” as Tian often joked about her. She celebrated Christmas and the Spring Festival at Frank and Sami’s home. Frank, Sami, and Funi were all Buddhists, and also observed Wesak and Kuan Yin’s Birthday. But two months ago she had quarreled with Sami and stopped visiting. Tian had no idea what had happened between them.
One evening he asked Funi why she’d fallen out with her cousin. She said vehemently, “Sami’s a greedy woman, a fake Buddhist. She’s been playing stocks and lost tens of thousands of dollars. Frank tried to stop her, but she’s gotten so addicted to day-trading that she won’t quit. The more she loses, the nastier she gets. She even wanted Frank to sell their house in Watertown so she could have more money to trade online. These days she’s been talking about buying Bitcoin.”
“That’s awful. There’s no way to stop her?” he asked.
“Don’t even think about it. I once suggested to her that she go see a shrink, but she only blew up and lashed out at me. She accused me of making eyes at Frank and trying to flirt with him. She said he liked women who had more flesh. I told her that was bullshit. If I could seduce a man like Frank, I’d have married long ago.” Funi laughed. “She ought to cherish what she has—a home with a husband and three fine kids.”
In recent weeks Funi wouldn’t even answer the phone when Sami called. Once Tian picked up, but Funi made him say she wasn’t in. According to her, the less involved she was with Sami, the better it would be for everyone. “I just hope she wouldn’t trade away their home and marriage,” Funi said and sighed.
That seemed unlikely, though. Tian knew that Frank was strong-willed and wouldn’t cave to Sami in business matters. Perhaps Frank had already managed to take their bank account and trading funds from her.
One night in May Tian came back late, around eleven. The light in the living room was still on, but Funi was already in bed, her room completely dark, no slit of light under the door. As he was pouring boiled water to make licorice tea for his throat, he heard her moaning. At first he thought she was suffering from her pollen allergies. Then she moaned again, her voice low and smothered.
He knocked on her door and asked, “Are you all right, Funi?”
“No,” she gasped. “Come in, I need your help.”
He entered her room and flipped on the light. She was lying on her bed, her face buried in a pillow. He froze in his tracks, seeing her body writhing a little. Then he stepped over and patted her neck. She lifted her head, her face sweaty and pale.
“What happened?” he asked. “Where do you hurt?”
“My belly,” she said weakly. “I peed blood. Go to the bathroom and take a look. My belly was burning inside and it hurts like hell.”
He rushed into the bathroom and saw the bloody liquid in the toilet. Good heavens, she was bleeding! He ran back into her room and said, “We must go to the hospital at once—to get you treated.”
He returned to the kitchen and brought the licorice tea to Funi. He knew that licorice was anti-inflammatory and might reduce her pain a bit.
“All right, let’s go now,” he said firmly.
“Are you sure they’re open at this hour?” she said, and sipped the tea.
“Positive. Every hospital here has an urgent-care center. Can you walk?” he asked as he helped her get out of bed.
“I can.” She put her feet into her sneakers and stepped gingerly to the door. On the stairs he supported her, holding her left arm and elbow with both hands. She was bent a little due to the abdominal pain.
He parked at the side of the hospital and helped her toward the colossal brick building. A receptionist greeted them the moment they entered the automatic doors and reached the counter. Funi couldn’t completely understand the questions the woman asked, so Tian translated for her. She produced her health insurance card, then was given a plastic bracelet with her name and birthday on it. In the waiting room there were four others, and the sight of them calmed Funi and Tian down some.
In no time a copper-haired nurse came and led Funi into an exam room. Tian went with her so that he could interpret. After getting her vitals, the nurse gave her a small plastic cup and asked her to provide a urine sample. The woman said to her, “Sweetheart, we have a special suite for you here.” She pointed at the restroom within the exam room.
Funi went in with a folded patient gown under her arm. A few moments later she came out with half a cup of pink urine, wearing the light blue gown tied in the back. She looked pleased about the lighter color of her pee and said to Tian, “I feel better now. I should be all right.”
Within ten minutes the test results came
back. Funi had a common urinary tract infection. Tian was impressed by the speed of the work. Dr. Kim, a man in his late thirties with a swarthy and energetic face, said they shouldn’t be too concerned and he’d soon have Funi’s condition under control. Tian translated for Funi. As the doctor was palpating her abdomen with his hand, he asked if she’d ever had such a problem before. She shook her head no.
“I’m going to prescribe for you Keflex, a very good antibiotic drug,” the doctor said. “You take it three times a day. Usually in four days the symptoms go away, but I want you to take it for a whole week. This is to prevent the infection from spreading to your other organs, like the kidneys. For the first time you take two pills, a double dose. Afterward one pill at a time.”
Able to understand some basic English, Funi nodded gratefully, and Tian felt relieved.
“Are you Chinese or Korean?” Dr. Kim asked Funi.
“Chinese,” she said.
“Some Koreans also have ‘Yu’ as their family name.”
The doctor turned toward Tian a bit, but spoke to both of them. “You mustn’t have sex during the next week,” he said earnestly. “Urinary tract infections are sometimes caused by sexual activity, so abstain until the antibiotic is finished.”
Tian grew embarrassed and Funi blushed, turning her face to the wall. Evidently she caught the drift of Dr. Kim’s instructions.
The nurse with copper hair gave Funi a cup of water and two Keflex pills, each half turquoise and half apple-green. Funi tipped her head and swallowed the medicine. The woman told Tian, “Pick up the prescription at your pharmacy tomorrow morning and have her take one pill at a time, three times a day.”
They thanked her and headed out toward the parking lot. The traffic on I-95 was droning faintly. The moon was like a giant banana. In the distance a helicopter bobbed through the starry sky, thumping yak-yak-yak-yak and setting the air pulsing.
The next morning Funi called in sick, but her abdominal pain was already nearly gone. Her urine looked clear and normal too. Tian went to the pharmacy next to Shaw’s supermarket and got the Keflex pills for her. She told him she felt fine now, already on the mend, so he shouldn’t worry.
On his way to the casino, he went on thinking about their hospital visit. Dr. Kim had assumed that he was Funi’s partner and obviously thought he’d had a hand in making her sick. Such a realization made Tian uneasy and he wondered whether he should talk with Funi.
The next evening, the two of them had tea in their kitchen. Tian asked her, “Do you have a boyfriend now?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”
“Dr. Kim thought I’d made you sick and that your urinary tract infection must have been caused by sexual activity. I hope he was wrong of course.”
She lowered her head and said, “I heard him urge you to abstain from sex for some time. You must’ve felt embarrassed. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t feel bad about it—I just don’t want to be mistaken for your man.”
She grimaced and asked, “Am I that awful, an embarrassment to you?”
“Of course not. I have a family and don’t want to be misunderstood by others.” He paused. “Did you have sex with someone recently?”
“Are you interrogating me now?” she cried. “Get out of here!”
“If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. It’s all right with me. Just don’t tell anyone that you peed blood. People can stretch it wildly.”
She sighed, then said almost tearfully, “I was sleeping with someone for a while. Do you want to know more about him?”
“No need for me to know, but I wish you good luck,” Tian said sincerely. “I hope your boyfriend loves you.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Dennis is just someone I met and liked. He used to work for Frank and then left for a job in Chinatown. He’s married and has a baby.”
“That’s dangerous, Funi. You shouldn’t be a man’s mistress. Does he have some power over you? Do you work with him?”
“No, he’s a cop, and his beat is in Chinatown. That’s why he and I often ran into each other. I know I shouldn’t be with a family man like him. But I just can’t help myself. Whenever he came to the warehouse and invited me out, I just went with him. He made me feel so cheap. Every time afterward I would blame myself, but then I just couldn’t break up with him. I know he’s been using me.”
“But such a relationship can never go anywhere. You must get out of it soon.”
“I wish I could, but I’m sort of desperate.”
“Desperate about what?” Tian was flummoxed by her confession. She had always given him the impression of being carefree and at peace. When she was at home, she hardly made any noise, and sometimes he didn’t even realize he wasn’t alone.
“Honestly, I want to find a man,” she told him. “I feel I’m getting old and soon will become an old maid nobody wants. I’ve just been trying to grab whatever I might get.”
“You’re still young and mustn’t rush to have such a relationship.”
“You’re so kind, Tian. You understand how a woman like me feels. Can you keep my secret?”
“Of course, I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“Not even to Shuna.”
“It will stay with me only.”
“Thank you for all the help and for your kindness. I felt like I was dying the other night.”
“We’re friends and ought to help each other.”
Her confession made him a little wary afterward. When he came back from work at night or from a long trip, he would check his room and other areas of their apartment, searching for traces of Dennis. But he never found anything. Probably they had a room that they went to in downtown Boston. Funi seemed as unflappable and vivacious as before. However, Tian noticed she was friendlier to him now. She began to keep his mail in order when he was away, and would jot down messages from people who phoned him. She stacked his Boston Globe on the storage shelf in the kitchen after she read the news. She had been learning more English and could read the paper now. If he was away for longer than a week, Funi would keep his room clean.
Once she said that after his family arrived to join him, she’d be happy to serve as a maid, cooking and keeping house, if the Yaos ever hired one. Tian laughed, surprised, and said he was unlikely to get rich or famous again. The two of them should be friends and equals. He asked what made her have such an idea. She explained, “I feel safe when I’m with you. You put me at peace.”
“But how can you tell I’d be a good boss?”
“I know you’re a decent man.”
What she said moved him in a peculiar way. There is a saying in China that goes: “No woman loves a man who isn’t bad.” It means that a man’s goodness and honesty tend to be viewed as weakness and stupidity. At least Funi took him to be a fine man. That pleased him, though seldom did he show his appreciation. In spite of their friendship, he meant to keep some distance between them.
34
Although the Divine Grace didn’t tour during the summer, Tian received invitations to sing in other cities. This pleased him and made him feel like a professional again. In recent months he had often run into Tan Mai, who also gave more public performances now. Once in a while the two of them even shared a stage. Her mastery of the pi-pa was universally praised—she was regarded as an artist who had expanded the range of the instrument, which in her hands had become more expressive and could even play contemporary music. Her performance was usually the headlining act. Sometimes she’d give double encores and often got standing ovations.
However, all of Tan Mai’s success was beginning to make her a target. A newspaper based in Vancouver, funded by the Chinese government, revealed that Tan Mai had been “so outrageous and so arrogant” that she had refused to play at the White House the year before, when China’s paramount leader Hu Jintao had visited President
Obama. In response, many people voiced criticisms and condemnations of Tan Mai, both online and in letters printed in newspapers. Some said she had too high an opinion of herself. For all her success, she mustn’t forget she was merely an entertainer, no different from the minstrels of old, or storytellers with their bamboo clappers in teahouses. Without the motherland’s years of nurturing support, she would have been nothing. Yet there were others who applauded her for her artistic integrity and for her position against the Communist regime. Tan Mai seemed to be caught in the crossfire but never broke her silence. The state media’s disclosure seemed intended to make an example of her to other Chinese artists in the diaspora, implying that they should serve China unconditionally no matter where they were. Such a demand was later expressed overtly by an editorial in The Global Post, which went so far as to claim, “You must remain filial children to your motherland.”
Tian had read about Tan Mai’s trouble in newspapers and online. What had happened with the White House performance was that a Chinese official had approached Tan Mai before President Hu’s visit and invited her to perform at the state dinner, sharing the program with an American jazz band. Without thinking twice, Tan Mai, feeling honored, accepted the invitation. But when she saw the list of pieces, she was appalled to find she was to play “In Praise of Our Motherland.” The song had originally appeared in a 1950s movie about the Battle of Triangle Hill in the Korean War, and its lyrics were embedded with anti-American sentiment: “If friends arrive, we have good wine. / If wolves come, we have hunting guns.” Tan Mai asked if she could play another song in its place, but the Chinese official responded rudely, telling her that she was not in a position to choose. As a protest, she canceled her appearance. They then invited the pianist Lang Lang to play the song in the White House instead, and he was delighted to oblige. The Americans at the banquet were completely unaware of the song’s connotations, and they applauded Lang Lang’s virtuoso performance. President Hu was so pleased by the resounding success that he even hugged the pianist. Later a newspaper in Taipei reported China’s hoodwinking of the Americans with the headline: “A Brief Communist Takeover of the White House.”
