Women of the Silk

by Gail Tsukiyama

  This scene slowly gave way to a quieter, less populated region. Pei saw the fertile farmlands where farmers worked to produce sugarcane and rice. It was the same flat, red earth of her childhood, and seeing it again provoked memories of the lost childhood Pei thought she’d buried.

  Lin’s familiar voice brought her back again. “It’s beautiful isn’t it? I never really noticed before.”

  “Yes.” Pei smiled. “It feels strange, like a long-lost friend.”

  “Is it similar to where you grew up?” Lin asked.

  Pei turned slowly toward Lin. She had said all that she could to Lin about her family life; that her father had fish ponds and they all worked in the mulberry groves.

  “Yes, it’s very similar,” Pei finally said.

  An older woman dressed in white wheeled a cart down the aisle; she was selling tea and sweet buns.

  “I was always getting into trouble,” Pei continued, “doing things I wasn’t supposed to, like asking too many questions, and going out to play and coming back filthy.”

  Lin laughed and said, “We weren’t allowed to dirty our clothes. Our amah had to change my youngest brother six times one day because he dirtied his clothes. It made my mother very angry.”

  “We wouldn’t have had any clothes if we’d had to change six times!” Pei laughed. “We only had two sets of clothes, one for summer and one for winter. If one was being washed, then we’d wear the other. I was always getting dirty. Sometimes, when the ponds were low and no one was around to see me, I’d wade into the water as I’d seen my father do when he harvested the fish. There were hundreds of fish back then, and they felt like tiny bristles of a brush swimming against my legs, strong enough to knock me into the water if I didn’t plant my feet securely in the muddy bottom. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt!”

  “It must have been wonderful.”

  “No,” Pei said quickly. “Those times were few and far between, and I had them only in secret.”

  “But what about your sister Li, didn’t she share these secrets with you?”

  Pei shook her head slowly. After all the years, it still stung. “We were very different. Li was more like my mother, very quiet and obedient. Most of the time she kept to herself, and never found trouble. I always wondered if there was something wrong with me, because I couldn’t be more like them.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you,” Lin said gently. “Don’t ever think that just because you do things differently, you’re wrong.”

  Pei lifted her head and smiled at Lin. Voices hummed all around them. She turned and looked out toward the overworked red earth, and suddenly felt like crying. From the distance, the land moved up and down along the waves of white heat.

  More than six hours later the boat groaned and slowed as they approached Canton. Once inside the busy harbor they were surrounded by dozens of other boats. Pei looked around, wide-eyed. The port was bursting with movement; small sampans moved back and forth with dexterity, avoiding the larger Chinese junks with their flapping sails. Massive wooden ships stood large and imposing, with bold foreign writing on their sides. Pei had seen nothing like it before. The excitement of different people and strange voices surrounded her. The more pungent odors of salted fish and stale oil filled the air. Pei was quickly overpowered by the enormousness of Canton as the boat slowly made its way to dock. A crowd of people stood along the wooden pier and watched them approach. Many waved and shouted words Pei couldn’t make out. She turned to Lin, who was watching just as intensely as she was. Neither of them spoke as the boat jerked and bumped heavily against the stone wall. Pei’s heart beat faster as the horn sounded a low moan of arrival.

  They slowly battled their way down the ramp through the thick and foreign crowd. Pei knew it would have been a nightmare for her if Lin hadn’t taken her hand and led her through the maze of wooden piers. For the first time in her life, Pei saw the white-devil traders who came from faraway lands. Many of them were tall and heavy, with strong smells and hairy faces. They spoke in a coarse, vulgar fashion, and laughed and jeered at the young women as they walked quickly by. Shirtless coolies, glistening from the thin film of sweat that covered their lean bodies, jumped to the orders of the white devils, lifting heavy loads onto the large boats. And all around them, clustered in small groups, were Chinese soldiers dressed in gray uniforms, watching the coolies work.

  “Who are they?” Pei asked, careful not to be caught staring.

  “They’re soldiers in the Kuomintang army of Chiang Kai-shek. My brother told me they are everywhere now, looking for Communist supporters who might be slipping in or out of Canton.”

  “Are many caught?”

  Lin shrugged her shoulders. “Some, I guess.”

  Pei glanced over at them. Many of the soldiers were still so young they did not yet fit into their cotton uniforms. They stood proudly, showing themselves off. Some of them whistled and made rude comments.

  “How much, sweet thing?” one young soldier called out.

  “I’ll teach you a thing or two!” another yelled.

  Pei blushed and grew hot as she followed Lin’s quick lead.

  Voices seemed to buzz from every direction. Families that lived upon the docked boats went about their daily routines of living and selling their wares. They waved their arms and called out to them: “Missy, here, I have the best deals!” “Missy, the best jade in Canton!”

  Women were perched upon their rocking boats, some with babies hanging from slings around their backs. They tried to sell Lin and Pei everything, from jade trinkets to dried fish and steaming bowls of noodles. Their older children, barefoot boys and girls dressed in dirty, tattered clothing, played beside them, oblivious to the world which revolved around them.

  Pei sighed in relief when they finally emerged from the crowded pier and onto a wide, open street. Lin moved directly towards a line of sedan chairs waiting in a row at one corner of the street. The carriers sat beside their chairs. Several jumped up as they approached, while others sat glassy-eyed, smoking something sweet-smelling in thin, long pipes; still others, shoving rice into their mouths from small bowls, simply stared up at Lin and Pei and waved their chopsticks for the girls to move on. Farther down the street another group of carriers continued gambling, with no intention of leaving their game.

  “What’s that funny smell?” Pei asked.

  “They’re smoking opium,” answered Lin.

  “Why?”

  “It helps them to forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  “Their lives.”

  Without further explanation Lin stepped forward and spoke to two of the more eager carriers. They wore beige tunics and short trousers, which exposed their muscular calves and the veins swollen from the constant pounding of their feet against the hard-surfaced streets.

  When Lin settled on a price, she turned to Pei and said, “Let’s go. I’ve talked them into letting us ride in one chair together.”

  The two men were already positioned at the front and back of the sedan chair. Between the poles was a small wooden structure with sliding windows on each side. Pei stepped between the poles and entered first, followed closely by Lin. She moved as much as she could to one side of the rough, flat seat so Lin would have enough room. Immediately Pei felt the chair being lifted. The chair bearers moved forward and broke into a half-trot as the girls sat snugly in their seat, floating several feet above the ground.

  Pei slid open the wooden board as far as it could go and leaned out of the window. They were traveling down a broad street, crowded with other sedan chairs, a few monstrous vehicles Lin called cars, soldiers on horses, and merchants’ carts filled with fruits and vegetables. Pei marveled at all the people and shops, especially the fancy-dressed white devils strolling down the street. They walked straight and erect, ignoring all the begging children who cried and followed them.

  The busy street led to an area with larger buildings, which housed storefronts and factories with ornately decorated exteriors unlik
e any Pei had seen. In the flat open land of her childhood, Pei was lucky to have seen so much as another farmhouse miles from where they lived. Even the buildings in Yung Kee appeared miniature compared to these, whose massive walls seem to grow upward toward the sky.

  A quick turn of the sedan chair suddenly sent Pei colliding into Lin, laughing. The bearers continued their steady trot for quite a while, passing numerous large gray houses, which, Lin said, belonged to visiting white devils. Then, before Pei knew it, they made another sharp turn onto a smaller, tree-lined street. Pei could barely see the large houses hidden behind the tall hedges and iron gates. There was something mysterious and almost menacing about their neatly manicured fronts. Pei felt a cold fear move through her, but kept this to herself.

  The sedan chair slowed. It finally came to a stop in front of black iron gates. Pei nervously looked toward Lin, who was already climbing out of the chair. The strong smell of eucalyptus floated heavily through the air as Pei climbed out after her. While Lin paid the sedan carriers, Pei looked around at the lush greenery that imprisoned each house. The feeling of discomfort grew inside her. Pei stepped back and watched the sedan carriers swiftly lift their chair, leaving them suddenly alone.

  “Come this way,” Lin said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Pei, I promise.”

  Pei tried to smile.

  Lin rang the bell on the gate without hesitation.

  Through the gate Pei could see the brown house of Lin’s childhood. It looked large and imposing, like some tired beast. She looked hard beyond the last barrier that separated them from the house and Lin’s family, but no one was in sight.

  Without saying a word, Lin kept her finger on the bell. Pei swallowed hard and waited. She knew how much this day meant to Lin and her family. After more than twelve years, Lin had come home.

  Chapter Ten

  1928

  Pei

  “It’s Missy come home! Missy come home!” the short, rotund woman shouted to the others as she struggled to open the heavy gates. “Missy, you have finally come home,” she said joyfully to Lin, her face pressing through the iron bars.

  Lin reached through the gate and touched her hand. “It’s you, Mui,” she said to the old servant.

  Mui finally flung the gate open; Pei moved quickly out of the way as Lin rushed into Mui’s open arms. Pei saw that Mui was older and grayer than Lin had described her, yet she still possessed the quick, light movements of a younger woman. Only Pei knew how much Lin had missed the old woman’s maternal comfort during her years away. When Mui finally released Lin and was introduced, she hugged Pei with equal vigor.

  By the time they walked through the garden to the house, Lin’s brothers had gathered at the entrance, but her mother, Wong Tai, was nowhere in sight. The house itself was very old and large, made of wood and concrete; years of neglect showed on its fading brown surface. But when they entered the cool, dark interior, Pei saw that the house still maintained some of its past glories, with its large, dark furniture and ornately decorated vases. Lin looked all around in great excitement. She had told Pei that many of their better possessions, such as the rosewood cabinets and carved ivory vases, had to be sold after her father’s death. When Pei looked up, she saw the most beautiful crystal chandelier hanging directly above them. She leaned over to Lin and whispered, “It’s much more beautiful than the one at the sisters’ house.”

  To the left of the entrance stood the majestic staircase which once played such an important part in Lin’s childhood. It appeared just as Pei had imagined it; the polished, intricately carved dark wood curved flawlessly upwards. She could almost envision young Lin and her brothers peering down from the top of the stairs as their parents greeted the many guests dressed in tall hats and fancy clothes.

  Pei was so taken with the house that she barely noticed Lin’s two younger brothers standing to one side. They wore dark, serious suits with starched white collars. The younger, Ho Yung, looked hot and uncomfortable in his Western clothing, and shyly lowered his gaze when he was introduced to Pei, while Ho Chee, whom she had met once before at the girls’ house, greeted her with familiarity. At first meeting, Pei had been so captivated by Lin’s mother she hadn’t even realized she stood a good inch or two taller than Ho Chee. The brothers now watched her closely and seemed as intrigued with her height as she was with their clothing.

  Lin appeared surprised and happy to see her younger brother Ho Yung again. After so many years, it must have been like greeting a stranger. Gone was any resemblance to the small child she had once described to Pei. She stood back and laughed at his height. He had grown to be the taller of the two brothers, and easily the more handsome. With his straight, even features and dark serious eyes, he bore a closer resemblance to Lin than Ho Chee did.

  “Come, come, you must go to greet your ma ma; there will be time for your brothers later,” Mui said, clapping her hands. “You two find something else to do. The girls must rest after their long journey.”

  Then Mui, in all her excited happiness, guided them upstairs to Lin’s old room. As they moved soundlessly down the long hallway, Pei stepped carefully on the soft red woolen carpet that covered most of the shiny wood floor. Mui stopped, opened the door to Lin’s room, and motioned the girls inside.

  “You see, Missy, nothing has changed since you went away,” Mui said happily. “Everything has been kept the same as when you left.”

  Mui had managed to keep the original contents of Lin’s room. Everything stood as she had once described it to Pei. Lin’s doll collection sat erect and dusted on the bureau; her books were in order on the white shelves; even her childhood clothes were still neatly hung in her black lacquer wardrobe. And there, to one side of the room, was the four-poster bed Lin’s father had ordered from Europe. Its smooth white satin cover awaited Lin’s body once again.

  As Lin surveyed her childhood, Pei stood stiffly beside her. Every small detail seemed to be in place, yet for a moment Lin seemed surprised, as if she were seeing everything for the first time.

  Then Lin smiled and gave Mui another hug. “No, nothing in this room has changed at all.”

  Mui nodded her head. “We have been waiting such a long time for your return, this room and your old Mui,” she said, patting her own chest with the palm of her hand.

  “So have I,” Lin said.

  “I know that everything will be as it was now that you’ve returned, Missy,” said Mui.

  Mui fluttered around the room, touching objects and reminiscing about Lin’s childhood. Then, with the same air of busy happiness, she left to bring them tea and some fresh towels.

  “I’m sorry,” Lin said, turning toward Pei. “I’m afraid she’s excited at seeing me home again.”

  Pei smiled. “I would be too, if I were she.”

  Lin looked around the room slowly, then turned back to Pei and said, “I have to go and see my mother for a short time. Why don’t you rest here for a while?”

  “Will you be gone long?”

  “No, it shouldn’t take long.” Lin paused, her face pale and weary. She smiled anxiously and then asked, “Are you sure you’ll be all right here?”

  “I’m fine,” Pei said.

  Pei felt childlike standing in the crowded room. She picked up one of the many dolls sitting on the bureau, a doll with lightcolored hair that felt soft and silky. It was so fine compared to her own thick, coarse hair. Pei rolled the doll over carefully in her hands, her fingers lifting the pink frilly dress to see if it was real lace, then stroking the smooth golden hair in disbelief.

  She walked slowly around the white room, her fingers touching the neat line of books on the shelf. Very carefully she opened a drawer and found several intricately embroidered silk vests, and in another, a neatly folded stack of girl’s underclothing made of wool and cotton. Pei sat down hesitantly on Lin’s large white bed, and didn’t dare move. Everything about Canton seemed so large and confusing. Pei felt that if she were to leave Lin’s room, she would easily be lost in th
e big dark house with its soft floors. Although Lin had told her all about her childhood, Pei still found it hard to imagine Lin having to leave all this for the girls’ house. What must she have felt walking through Auntie Yee’s bare, sterile rooms for the first time? Yet never once had Lin asked for more, or even made comparisons. Always, when Pei questioned her about her childhood, Lin simply said, “They’re two different lives; you can’t compare a chicken and an egg.”

  Pei let her hand sink into the soft cover of the bed, so that the dark of her skin disappeared into the white. Her head was still spinning from all that she’d seen since leaving Yung Kee. Lin’s family, and this house with all its wealth and beauty, frightened her. Unlike Pei, who could never have returned home to her family, Lin could easily have come back to this comfortable life when her mother’s health was restored. With her great beauty, Lin would have had little trouble marrying a man of wealth and power, bringing great honor to both families. Her mother would have certainly seen to it.

  The sound of the door opening jarred Pei from her thoughts. For a moment she thought Lin had returned. Instead, it was the old servant, Mui, humming to herself and carrying a tray of tea and biscuits to the table beside Lin’s bed.

  “Missy has gone to see her ma ma?” asked Mui, her quick eyes darting around the room.

  “Yes,” Pei answered. Then gesturing toward the tray Mui had set down, she said, “Thank you.”

  Mui stood there, solid and smiling, intent on staying. She looked Pei over quickly, and then said proudly, “We are very happy Missy has finally come home. Did you know it’s because of my Missy that this family has survived?”

  “Yes, I know,” Pei said in a voice so filled with admiration that it brought a toothless grin from Mui.

  “I see you know my Missy well.”

  Pei smiled awkwardly. The truth was, sometimes she was frightened that Lin might no longer want to be with her. Because of her tall gangly body, Pei felt she must be an embarrassment for her friend when they walked down the street. And all her questions would tire anyone, even someone with Lin’s patience. Pei didn’t dare to think of life in Yung Kee without her.