by Hannah Bent
‘I’m really sorry, Harper.’
Bì Yù said quietly, ‘This is a drop-off area. We can’t stay here for too long.’
I nodded. ‘Come on, Harper,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I think I will try one yam first.’ Harper reached into the bag. ‘Ouch, hot. We have to wait for it to cool.’
Damn it, Harper. I snatched a steaming yam from the bag and blew on it furiously, trying to ignore the heat that seared through my fingertips. As I handed it to her, a man in a uniform tapped on Bì Yù’s window. He pointed to his watch and gestured to say that she had to move on.
Harper inspected the yam. ‘What’s this bit?’ She pointed to a small fleck of black in the orange flesh.
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shout.
‘That’s just the way it is; it’s part of the yam.’ I reached over and removed the fleck.
Harper chewed slowly. ‘Yum. This is very nice.’ She nodded. ‘I’m still a bit mad at you about the hospital, Marlowe, but I have decided to let it go.’ She sat up and held out her hand for me to take. ‘Let’s go now.’
The Shanghai Middle Hospital reminded me of a large shopping mall. Although the shops had closed for the night, the lobby was dotted with makeshift stalls selling items such as wheelchairs and walking sticks.
Mr Zhāng was nowhere to be seen.
After Bì Yù parked the car, she joined us inside. We walked fast. I pushed Harper in her chair. We passed what looked like a closed pharmacy. Its windows were covered with bars.
I looked at Bì Yù for help. She bit her lip.
‘It’s a big hospital; there are four wings. Perhaps we’re in the wrong one?’
I thought about the deposit I had paid Mr Zhāng. What if he had run off with it? Was it possible this whole thing was a sham? Adrenaline surged through my body, making the tips of my fingers and toes prickle.
With Bì Yù leading the way, we headed down a wide corridor, hoping to find another lobby.
‘Where are we going?’ Harper asked.
‘Me and Bì Yù just want to see a doctor to ask him if he can make you feel better.’
Harper didn’t respond. Her silence made me uneasy. I didn’t like the person I was becoming.
Eventually, she turned to look at me. I stopped pushing her wheelchair and kneeled down.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose then took my hand.
‘I tell you what.’ She patted my hand gently, like she knew exactly what was going on. ‘I think I will be all right with seeing the doctor here for a little while, because I think I can look at this with my writer’s eyes and get some inspiration for my story.’
I exhaled. Harper was looking at me sympathetically, as if she felt sorry for me.
‘But, Marlowe, I don’t want to talk about the things we talked about in Hong Kong? No transplants. I want to keep my heart that is in love with Louis, okay?’
‘Okay.’ I looked away.
We began moving again, Bì Yù striding ahead.
‘You sure we’re going the right way?’ I called.
She turned and shook her head, then approached a man in a white lab coat. He pointed to a corridor that led off to the right. We raced through it and soon enough, we were in another lobby, with cherry wood floors and marble walls.
‘There.’ Bì Yù pointed to Mr Zhāng, who was standing with a nurse and the three other patients.
I felt limp with relief.
‘Him?’ Harper shook her head. ‘Why do we need to see him again?’
‘He’s helping us get you in to see the doctor, Harper.’
When Mr Zhāng saw us, he immediately addressed Bì Yù in a torrent of Chinese. Harper looked at Mr Zhāng and shook her head. ‘So rude,’ she said under her breath.
‘What’s he saying?’
Bì Yù frowned. ‘He says we can’t accompany Harper to see the doctor.’
‘What? No way!’ I tightened my grip on the handles of the wheelchair. ‘Tell him we can’t leave her because she has Down syndrome.’
‘Up syndrome,’ Harper corrected me. ‘And I can go places myself. I don’t need you to follow. I’m not a baby anymore, you know.’
Words flew back and forth in Chinese.
Finally Bì Yù told me that he’d agreed to let me accompany Harper, but that she would have to wait behind.
‘Fān yù yuán,’ I said firmly, pointing at Bì Yù.
They both looked at me blankly.
‘Do you mean interpreter?’ Bì Yù asked. ‘Fān yì yuán? I’ve already told him that.’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Harper got up from her wheelchair. ‘I would like to go back to Bì Yù’s house now.’
I shook my head wearily. ‘Harper, you said you’d stay.’
‘No, I’ve had enough.’ She dropped her empty paper bag, tottered forward a few steps, then collapsed.
Harper was helped onto a gurney by white-clad nurses. They wheeled her through double doors into a long room lined with beds. Harper was borne away to a recovery area while Bì Yù and I were instructed to sit in a waiting room nearby.
The room was completely bare, other than a white table with matching chairs.
‘When we get home,’ Bì Yù said, ‘we need to have a serious talk.’
I nodded, anxiety swimming in my belly.
She looked around. There were no windows, not even a sign on the wall. ‘I get a weird vibe about this place.’
Me too, I wanted to reply, but I was too scared to admit it. What have I done?
The door opened abruptly and Mr Zhāng entered with a stony-faced nurse. He addressed Bì Yù, his tone firm, like he was issuing instructions.
‘He says if anyone asks, we have to tell them Harper is being treated for an infection, nothing more.’ Bì Yù shook her head as Mr Zhāng continued speaking. Translating rapidly, she told me that all consultations were to take place in private with the doctor. We would meet him tomorrow at 3 pm at the Red Lantern Hotel. They would run more tests on Harper tonight. All further testing would need to be paid for in cash.
‘Ask him when the surgery will take place,’ I urged.
She relayed my question.
Mr Zhāng was silent for a few seconds. He ran his tongue over his yellow teeth then muttered something in Chinese.
‘He says we’ll find out tomorrow and to bring the rest of the money then.’
Mr Zhāng turned to leave.
‘Where the hell is he going?’ I asked.
Bì Yù shrugged.
‘Wait!’ I shouted.
Mr Zhāng turned to glare at me. The corner of his left eye twitched. ‘Quietly!’ he growled in English.
‘Tell him I won’t leave until I know when my sister will be getting her heart and lung transplants.’
As Bì Yù spoke, her voice was shaking.
I watched helplessly as he left the room without acknowledging what Bì Yù had said. I had no idea if he was coming back.
After twenty long minutes, Mr Zhāng returned. He smiled and began to speak, more slowly this time.
Bì Yù started to say something in reply, but Mr Zhāng cut her off.
‘Bì Yù, tell me what’s going on.’
She turned to look at me. ‘Harper can have a heart and lung transplant on Thursday.’
‘Really?’ My voice rose in excitement. ‘She can have the surgery that soon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, tell him thank you.’ I smiled at him. ‘Thank you!’ Who cared if he was slimy? He was saving my sister’s life
But Bì Yù grabbed me by the shoulder.
‘Hold on, Marlowe – he says he wants you to pay the remaining money. How much did you pay him already?’
‘Don’t worry about it. I… we’re going to save Harper’s life.’
She became very still. I struggled to read the expression on her face.
‘He says not to be late for the appointment at the hotel t
omorrow.’ Before she could say anything more, a nurse entered and said a few words. My cousin stood so I did too. The nurse led us to a room where Harper was sitting up in bed drinking an apple juice. She told us Harper was ready to return home.
‘I’m feeling a bit better now,’ Harper announced. ‘Let’s go. It’s late and I’m very tired.’
She was seated back in her wheelchair and we were led out of the hospital via a different route. We passed several wards lined with beds, all occupied.
‘There’s a lot of people here,’ Bì Yù muttered under her breath. ‘Are they all transplant patients?’ She asked the nurse in Chinese, and the woman replied with a simple, ‘Yes.’
‘A lot of people here have broken hearts,’ Harper said.
As we left the building and walked towards the car, Bì Yù put her hand on my arm. ‘Marlowe,’ she said softly, ‘this isn’t right. You have to tell your dad what you’re doing.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s not an option.’
‘Then talk to my dad,’ she pleaded.
‘We’ve already discussed this,’ I snapped. ‘No one can know.’
Bì Yù glanced at Harper to make sure she wasn’t listening then whispered in my ear, ‘It’s common belief among Chinese that one must be buried with their organs intact, for the afterlife. You know that, don’t you?’
I nodded, unable to look her in the eye.
‘So where are all these organs coming from? There were so many transplant patients in there.’
I shrugged. I couldn’t tell her the truth.
Harper spoke up. ‘All this whispering,’ she said. ‘I just don’t like it.’
Bì Yù’s apartment was on the seventeenth floor of a new building opposite Zhōngshān Park, one of Uncle Bĭng Wén’s new developments. The walls smelled vaguely of fresh paint, the floorboards of varnish.
She showed me to my room and then went to settle Harper in the other spare bedroom.
I started to unpack, shifting piles of neatly folded clothes from our suitcase to the dresser drawers.
After a few minutes, I noticed Bì Yù standing in the doorway, a large duffel bag at her feet.
‘Never again.’
I undid the zipper and the musty smell of money wafted out. The notes were soft against my fingertips.
‘They asked what I was doing with all that money.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I was helping my cousin pay for her university tuition fees.’
‘Thank you.’ I didn’t know what else to say.
‘Harper’s asleep. I’ve made us some tea.’
‘Do you have somewhere safe to store the money?’
‘Shanghai is a safe place. Plus this building is secure. I’d just put it in your room somewhere.’
Why was she so relaxed? I wanted her to be more concerned.
‘Come for tea, we need to talk.’ She left without shutting the door behind her.
The room was small; there weren’t many places to hide things safely. There was the small wardrobe, a single bed and a bedside table. That was it. I opened the duffel bag, lifted up the mattress, then poured the bills from the bag over the base of the bed. It was a clichéd place to hide the cash, but I had no other option.
I left the room, gripping the locket at my chest.
In the room opposite mine, Harper was asleep. I walked over quietly to check on her, adjusting the oxygen tube under her nose.
‘Not long now,’ I murmured.
I watched her breathing. Her lips were curved in a smile as she slept. I envied her serenity.
In the living room, I sat on the floor in front of the sofa and Bì Yù sat behind me. She ran her hands through my hair and started braiding just like Mum taught us to do when we were small.
‘You’re not telling me everything.’
Damn Bì Yù. It was so hard to lie to her. And I didn’t like doing it. I needed her to understand what I was doing, to accept it.
I turned to face her, wanting to tell her everything, but I didn’t know where to start.
‘How do they get the organs so quickly, Marlowe?’ she prompted me. ‘And why do they cost so much?’
I answered her questions as simply as I could, recounting what Anita had told me and then the research I had done on Dad’s computer.
She was very quiet, then, nudging me to turn around, she took my hair in her hands once more and continued braiding. When she was done, she put her arms around me and drew me close.
‘Thank you for telling me the truth,’ she said.
To my surprise, she didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t try to talk me out of it. The relief was overwhelming.
‘Does Olly know about this?’
‘Most of it…’
She bit her lip. ‘I don’t like the hospital and I certainly don’t like Mr Zhāng, but I’ll do everything I can to help.’ She tightened her grip around my shoulders. ‘Whatever it takes to save Harper.’
For a moment, it was as if I could smell Mum’s perfume close by, like a warm breeze carrying the sweet scent of jasmine.
Overcome, I pulled away from her embrace and stood up.
‘I’m thirsty,’ I said as I headed towards the kitchen. ‘Where do you keep your glasses?’
‘In the cupboard to the left of the stove… Marlowe?’
I stopped and turned. ‘Yes?’
‘There were just so many people in the transplant ward.’
Not this again.
‘That’s a lot of prisoners to execute…’
‘I suppose.’ I shrugged.
‘I didn’t know the government executed that many people. And the wait time is so short. How can the demand be met so quickly?’
I would not think about this anymore. I entered the kitchen. With its black-and-white decor and clean lines, it looked trendy and arty, just like Bì Yù. As I reached for the cupboard, something on a nearby shelf caught my eye. Behind handmade mugs, a vase of dried flowers and several cookbooks, I saw a pink Minnie Mouse flask. Minnie’s red skirt with white polka dots had faded with age. I took the flask from the shelf. It seemed so small.
Outside, the occasional explosion of fireworks sounded in the sky as people across Shanghai continued their Chinese New Year celebrations. It was early morning and I longed to be watching the fireworks, but I was stuck in a smelly hospital, staring at Harper from the doorway of her room. She had just returned from surgery; her tiny chest was covered in bandages and there were tubes running everywhere. Her face was the same colour as the snow that lined the streets below. Poor little Harper. Was she in a lot of pain? I wanted to ask, but the words froze in my throat.
Mum, Dad, Wài Pó, Uncle Bĭng Wén and Aunt Lĭ Nà crowded around her bed, but Bì Yù and I stood in the doorway holding hands. My little sister looked so still, so lifeless, that it scared me. Bì Yù must have felt the same way, because she was gripping my hand as tightly as I held hers.
Mum turned to face us. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of, girls. Even though she’s just had major surgery, Harper will be okay. We just have to be gentle with her.’ As she moved slowly around the bed, I thought that Mum looked very thin and tired. A small hole in the back of her tights ran down the middle of her calf.
She stroked Harper’s forehead.
Dad turned towards us. ‘Come on, girls.’ He beckoned us closer, but I couldn’t move.
‘Bì Yù, gùo lái,’ Uncle Bĭng Wén ordered.
My cousin took a deep breath and let go of my hand.
She marched bravely to Harper’s side.
As I watched, she bent over to place an ear to Harper’s chest. Straightening, she turned to face me and smiled. ‘I can hear her heartbeat.’
Quickly, I went to her side. Harper lay sleeping, breathing heavily. I was itching to wake her up, to tickle her – anything to get a response.
Mum stepped closer and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘We have to let her rest now, darling.’
The next morning, my parents and Wài
Pó returned to the hospital, leaving me at home with my aunt, uncle and cousin.
‘Why can’t Harper come home?’ I asked.
‘She needs to stay in hospital until she gets better, darling,’ Uncle explained.
‘I have an idea,’ Bì Yù said as we played in her room. ‘The hospital is only giving Harper western medicine. Let’s make her some Chinese medicine too, so she can get better twice as fast.’
We went down to the kitchen and gathered everything we could find that looked medicinal: goji berries, chrysanthemum flowers, ginger, ginkgo, cinnamon.
‘Now we have to boil it up into a tea,’ said Bì Yù.
When we were done, we poured the concoction into a pink Minnie Mouse flask, ready to be delivered to Harper.
My dad returned home for lunch, leaving Mum and Wài Pó at the hospital, and that afternoon he took me back to visit my sister. I carried a backpack with some of Harper’s toys and put the flask in too.
When a doctor came to talk to the adults, I saw my opportunity. While they were distracted, I took the Minnie Mouse flask from my backpack and began pouring the medicine into Harper’s half-open mouth.
To my horror, she immediately started to gasp and wheeze.
‘Mā ma, come quick!’
The adults turned. When Mum saw the brown liquid streaming from Harper’s mouth, she screamed. ‘What is it? What have you done?’
‘I gave her some medicine,’ I said, ‘to help her get better more quickly.’
The doctor, meanwhile, had rolled Harper onto her side. ‘Quick,’ he was saying to Dad, ‘press the emergency call button.’
As Wài Pó ushered me from the room, I was still clutching Bì Yù’s flask.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my little sister heaving and choking.
I wasn’t allowed to visit Harper in the Shanghai hospital again.
Harper
The morning sun is low and the shape of a half-eaten cookie. Curly smoke comes out of buildings below, moving through the air like long, hot fettuccine pasta straight from a pot.
In my bed, I feel cold. I say Louis’s name over and over again and I close my eyes. I imagine his body is giving warmth to mine. We lie together, like tangled vines whispering floating words to each other. Holding hands, we listen to the sound of two breaths moving at the same time.
