Women of the Silk

by Gail Tsukiyama

  When Lin emerged, Pei slowly moved farther up the stairs, so that she was partially hidden, but could still hear what Lin was saying.

  “Will you be returning to Canton directly?” Lin asked. She stepped closer to her mother.

  “We’ll pass the night here and return tomorrow,” her mother answered curtly.

  “I’m glad; it’ll be a much easier trip for you.” Then Lin leaned over and let her lips quickly brush her mother’s smooth cheek. “I don’t want you to get too tired.”

  Her mother’s face softened. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind? There’s still plenty of time.”

  “I’m certain of my decision,” Lin answered.

  Lin moved toward her brother and, with a smile that carried some childhood secret, kissed him on the cheek. Then, as if knowing Pei was there, Lin looked up toward her on the stairs. For a moment Pei was frozen with fear, until Lin broke the spell and motioned for Pei to come down and meet her mother and brother.

  “This is Pei,” Lin said. “Pei, this is my mother, and my brother, Ho Chee.”

  Ho Chee nodded his head shyly.

  Pei felt something cold and sharp move up her spine as Lin’s mother eyed her from top to bottom. Pei was not sure if this was a nod of acceptance or not, but she tried to smile, and whispered a hello that sounded hollow and childlike.

  “Pei will be coming to the marriage ceremony with me,” Lin continued, “if that’s all right with you.”

  “If that’s what you wish,” her mother answered coolly. With a sideways glance, she seemed to take note of Pei’s presence without actually looking at her.

  “Yes, it is.”

  In Lin’s voice there was a slight edge of defiance Pei had never heard before.

  “We’d better go, then,” her mother said sharply, turning toward her silent son. “There’s still a great deal that must be done, and it’s getting late.”

  Ho Chee turned around once to catch Lin’s eye, then took his mother’s arm possessively. Pei watched mesmerized as Lin’s mother slowly walked out the door and down the front steps in her tight, glittering dress. Her perfume lingered even after she was gone, a sweet, flowery smell that was new and quite different from anything Pei had ever smelled before.

  Pei’s own mother had never smelled so sweet, only of the sweat that came from the long hours toiling in the small, endless world of the mulberry groves. After dark, her mother would slowly make her way back to the house, her figure concealed beneath the coarse white clothing she wore. This was the rank, spare world of Pei’s childhood, which now felt so far away.

  Pei hoped Lin’s mother would turn around once more. She wanted to see her flawless, milky-white skin, which seemed to glow in the dark. Her eyes burned from not blinking, but Lin’s mother never turned back. When they closed the gate behind them, it was like blowing out a candle.

  Lin took Pei’s arm and led her back inside. Moi was filling a bowl of rice for each of them when they entered the dining room. Pei had forgotten all about eating when she learned Lin’s family was in the reading room. Now, she was starving. Moi didn’t like it when girls came in late for evening meal, and she dragged her bad leg with exaggerated heaviness to make her point. When Lin and Pei thanked her profusely, Moi mumbled, “Quick, quick, eat then, before it gets cold!” and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Pei and Lin ate quickly without words. When they finished eating, Pei leaned back and asked, “What ceremony did you tell your mother I would go with you to?”

  “My brother’s marriage ceremony.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t go!” Pei said, half-rising from her chair.

  Lin laughed. “You can and you will. It will give you a chance to see Canton. Besides, I’ll need the company.”

  “I won’t know what to do in a big city like Canton,” said Pei. The thought provoked more excitement than fear in her.

  “You’ll do what I do.”

  “Is that why your mother came here? To talk to you about the marriage?”

  “Partly. She also hoped I might have changed my mind about the hairdressing ceremony.”

  Pei remained silent.

  “You have to understand my mother. She believes that a husband will be my savior, and that only through the right marriage can honor and power be restored to our family.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “That I’m past the age of marrying well, and that no honorable family would want me.”

  “That’s not true!” Pei quickly said.

  Lin smiled shyly, and simply answered, “Honor is everything to my mother.”

  “What about me?” asked Pei. She had wanted to say something else, but the words slipped from her mouth before she could catch them.

  “You have time.”

  “Why can’t I go through the hairdressing ceremony with you?” Pei asked. It was a question she had grown tired of asking, and it hung in the air, flat and tasteless.

  “You can’t,” Lin answered wearily.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t really understand,” Lin almost whispered. Then she said loud enough to fill the room, “It means choosing not to have a husband and children.”

  “I don’t care about any of that!” Pei said, realizing for the first time that she was angry at Lin for not taking her seriously. “Don’t you think I’ve thought it all through? I’ve made my decision, I know what I’m saying!”

  “You don’t know,” Lin said tenderly. “You’re only just sixteen, the age when most girls are chosen for marriage. There could be a good marriage waiting for you.”

  “What makes you think I want to marry?”

  “How can you be certain you don’t?”

  Pei looked away from her. Lin stopped, and waited for Pei to turn back and face her. When she didn’t, Lin stood and began to gather their bowls.

  “I just want you to take some more time to think this over, to be really sure of what you want,” Lin finally said.

  “I want to go with you.”

  “That isn’t reason enough!” Lin drew a breath. “When and if you decide to go through the hairdressing ceremony, it has to be because that’s what you want, and you alone.”

  “Don’t you care about me anymore?” Pei asked.

  “Of course I care about you—why do you think I’m telling you to wait? We’ll still see each other afterward.”

  “It won’t be the same.”

  “Don’t you understand? The sisterhood isn’t for everyone. It’s a commitment for life and there’s no turning back!” Lin looked down at Pei. “I don’t think you’re ready to make that kind of decision.”

  Pei felt hurt, almost crushed, by Lin’s words, but she wouldn’t give in to them. Instead, Pei remained silent. Only time could show Lin how much she was really committed to the sisterhood. It would have to come slowly, like a wind from far away, but when it did, Lin would know.

  The Meeting

  Mei-li knew Hong was waiting for her. When her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor she wanted to cry out, but she remained careful not to make a sound to wake Pei, or any of the other girls. The murky light of morning was just entering the room, which meant Mei-li would have to move quickly before the house awoke. In the past month, she had learned to dress and undress in quiet, swift movements. But this morning there wasn’t much time. She wouldn’t be able to braid her hair, so instead she gathered it up into a waist-long ponytail, tying it together with a red ribbon.

  Downstairs a light was already shining from underneath the kitchen door. Mei-li could hear Moi’s movements as she began preparing their morning meal, humming quietly to herself. Above, the heavy footsteps and creaks began to announce another day. In a matter of moments Auntie Yee would be coming downstairs, pulling open the wooden shutters that kept the house dark and cool. Auntie Yee had become suspicious, and Mei-li was running out of excuses for why she was leaving the house so early and returning late. The excuses of work and Su-lung wouldn’t go any further, and Pei was a
sking more and more questions. There were so many times Mei-li wanted to tell Pei everything, but the words caught in her throat, and she could hear Hong’s words threaten her into silence. Her stomach felt queasy, then calmed. Everything would be taken care of soon enough, when she and Hong were married. The thought soothed her. Mei-li didn’t have any answers this morning, but it was just a few more steps before she would be safely out of the house without being caught. “Hong is waiting for me,” she told herself over and over again, as a flush of energy moved through her. Mei-li opened the front door and slipped out into the morning light.

  Mei-li could find her way to Hong’s house even with her eyes closed. They met once or twice a week when time permitted, when he could take time away from his precious studies. Hong was the smartest person she had ever known.

  Most of the time they would go to small, squalid rooms that belonged to classmates of his. They were all dark, damp-smelling holes resembling the first room he took her to. But when Mei-li was with Hong nothing else mattered; if he was unable to get a room, then she suffered not seeing him at all. Lately, they hardly spoke, and when they did, she always said something wrong or wanted too much.

  But what Mei-li felt with Hong was close to perfection. He had taught her how to make love, what to do to please him. There were times when Mei-li knew she was making him happy. Afterward, he would lie back and stare at the ceiling with a quiet smile on his face. At those moments, Mei-li would know what he was thinking. And then, Hong would turn and stroke Mei-li’s hair, or kiss her lightly on the neck. They would be all hands then.

  Mei-li lived for those moments, which always seemed to end too soon. Afterwards, Hong would return to his sullen, silent self, barely acknowledging her presence. Mei-li wondered if she had been dreaming to be so happy. Sometimes, she was terrified at the thought of never seeing Hong again. Mei-li knew she would die if that happened. And when she thought of her mother and father, Mei-li got so angry she couldn’t catch her breath from the choking sensation. They had absolutely no interest in what she felt. It was as if she had been born an empty box, only to be filled by their desires. Mei-li had decided to let her parents think she was happy with the match, to let them proceed with their marriage plans, though she knew that that marriage would never be her fate. Very soon she would tell them about Hong, even if she had to suffer the worst punishment.

  Mei-li leaned heavily against the wall across from Hong’s house, waiting. Hong was unusually late. She stayed half-hidden in case Su-lung suddenly emerged and saw her. Hong had told her over and over again that they must be very careful about being seen together.

  Lately Mei-li had not been feeling well. A twinge of queasiness moved through her again, just as it had for several mornings. She could no longer deny the child growing inside of her. Mei-li had heard horror stories of girls who grew big with child and then died in terrible pain at childbirth. This scared her, but she tried not to think about it, knowing a child belonging to Hong couldn’t hurt her. Sometimes when she closed her eyes she felt better. Mei-li had heard other girls speak of bitter herbs, sold by old women at the market, that might put an end to this feeling, but thinking about that only made her sicker to her stomach.

  It seem an eternity before the battered wooden door finally opened and Hong’s tall, familiar figure stepped out into the street. As always, he clutched a book tightly under his arm. The first thing Mei-li wanted to do was call out his name and run up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, but she knew it was impossible. Mei-li watched as Hong looked cautiously from side to side and walked across the street toward where she was waiting. A feeling of warmth filled her, but it disappeared quickly when Hong hesitated and stopped, then turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

  Mei-li leaned against the wall, her heart beating furiously. She couldn’t understand what was happening. She had seen Hong only two days before, when they had set this day and time to meet. Could she have been mistaken?

  Then, not knowing what possessed her, Mei-li began to follow Hong’s quick, long strides. She found herself pursuing him with a vengeance, though she didn’t dare call out for him to wait for her. When Hong turned into the marketplace Mei-li could almost reach out and touch his back. But as they moved deeper into the square she began to lose him in the crowd of men and women bargaining at fruit stalls, or eating their morning meals of jook or dumplings in noodles. The greasy, stuffy air made Mei-li feel sicker to her stomach.

  Mei-li found Hong waiting in line at one of the stalls. She moved quickly next to him, but when he still didn’t notice her, Mei-li tapped him lightly on the arm.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. His stare was stonelike.

  “Don’t you remember, we planned to meet this morning? I was waiting outside your house. I have to talk to you,” Mei-li found the courage to reply.

  “Not here.”

  “It can’t wait any longer,” she pleaded.

  Suddenly Hong grew angry. He grabbed her arm and pulled her away, squeezing so hard it hurt.

  “Don’t you want to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry anymore,” Hong answered.

  Not until they were well out of the marketplace did Hong stop and look at her. But it wasn’t with a look of happiness that he gazed down upon Mei-li. Hong was so angry his dark eyes narrowed, and his face seem to belong to a stranger.

  “Why are you following me?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to see you so badly, like we planned.”

  “About what?”

  “About …” Mel-li began, but then stopped when she saw Hong coldly looking down at her. She shifted from one foot to the other, and decided then against telling Hong she was with child.

  “What?” he angrily asked.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Hong began to pace back and forth. Each time he crossed a small patch of water on the ground, he barely missed being hit by water dripping from the laundry hanging above.

  “Anyway,” he said, suddenly calmer, “I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”

  “You have?” Mei-li was surprised by the quick change in his behavior. There were very few occasions on which Hong let her know he really did care for her.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Hong then said, clearing his throat, “that we should stop seeing each other. It’s not because of you, but my exams need my total concentration if I’m going to pass them. I just can’t do it any other way.”

  Hong let out a small sigh of relief when he was done. At first Mei-li couldn’t say anything. She could only think of this as being the most Hong had said to her in the past few weeks.

  “Do you mean until your exams are over?” Mei-li finally asked.

  Hong began pacing again. “You really don’t understand, do you? I think it would be better if we stopped seeing each other for good. There’s no future in it.”

  “I love you!” Mei-li blurted out, still not believing what she was hearing.

  “But I don’t love you,” Hong said, without turning around to pace back toward her.

  Hong’s words were like ice. Mei-li could hear her own voice pleading at first; then she began to cry and couldn’t seem to stop. When Hong placed his hands on her shoulders, she suddenly felt sick at his touch. Without thinking, she turned and swung, hitting him as hard as she could. The force of her blow was so unexpected Hong fell backward and onto the ground. Through her tears, Mei-li could see the surprise on his face as he struggled to get up. Then, before anything else could happen, she turned and ran as fast as she could away from Hong.

  “Mei-li! Mei-li!” she heard Hong yell after her, but she couldn’t stop running. Even when his voice grew fainter until it disappeared, and a sourness rose in Mei-li’s mouth, she didn’t stop.

  Mei-li walked for miles. Hong’s voice continued to haunt her. Her body felt numb and stained forever by his touch. She kept moving until she could go no farther. The rancid, stale smell of the Pearl River reached Mei-li a
nd sucked her toward its murky waters. On the river, sampans and barges moved rhythmically toward their destinations, as the high-spirited voices of the boat people filled the air. Mei-li was calmed by the sight of the water and open space. Everything felt so light, even the child she knew was growing inside of her. She followed the river’s edge, walking with renewed energy until slowly the people disappeared and the narrow strips of land became barren. Finally, the river belonged just to her.

  For a moment Mei-li felt comforted. Then voices began to grow loud in her head. Her own weak voice seemed smothered by Hong’s sharp words and the foolish words of her father. Mei-li covered her ears with the flat palms of her hands, and the voices dimmed but didn’t leave. She slowly walked down to the river’s edge, letting the cool water absorb her tiredness. The life inside of her was so quiet, wanting only to sleep, just as she wanted to sleep. Mei-li walked deeper into the water, feeling nothing, neither sorrow nor fear. The slight current rocked her back and forth, pulling her evenly forward. Very calmly at first, Mei-li began to laugh, her laughter echoing off the surface of the cool water. She suddenly felt free of all restraints. As the water filled her body and stifled her last breath, all the other voices died, and she was alone at last.

  Chapter Eight

  1927

  Pei

  Mei-li wasn’t discovered missing until the spinning and grinding of the machines began at the silk factory. Lin noticed Mei-li’s empty spot at the reeling machine and went immediately to Pei.

  “Have you seen Mei-li?” Lin asked, her voice rising above the steady grating.

  “No, isn’t she at her machine?” Pei answered, looking toward the other end of the room.