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This is the first time Joy has asked me to do something since I’ve been here. (Those dinners for the three of us have all been Z.G.’s idea.) I can tell she really wants me to come. And that, even though I’m nervous about going to the countryside, convinces me to join them.
AFTER A LENGTHY interview, Superintendent Wu gives me a travel permit. I break down and change some of my dollars into special certificates at the Overseas Chinese Affairs Commission. Before I leave Shanghai, I write a last short note to my sister. I know it will hurt her. I was going to tell her the truth sometime, but I didn’t think it would come out like this.
Z.G. and I are taking Joy to the countryside.
I imagine May in our home as she reads that line. She’ll think the worst of me. I know she will, because that’s what I would do. (And, if I’m honest, she’ll be right. This is the chance I’ve never had to be with him. Yes, Joy will be there, but who knows what could happen … I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.) May has always been easy with tears. This time I imagine them coming from a deeply scarred and tragic place. Her older sister has gotten revenge. No thrust into the heart is greater or more harmful than that from one who says she loves you the most. I know, because my sister drove that knife into my heart many times.
I’m sorry I haven’t told you about Z.G. before. Forgive me. Nothing has happened. I’m still just your jie jie, wishing I could have something of yours that I could never have and certainly don’t deserve. I will write from Green Dragon Village, our first stop, but I don’t know how good the mail service will be. I love you very much, May. Always remember that.
Joy
A SMALL RADISH
WE’RE ON THE bus taking us from Tun-hsi to the drop-off point for Green Dragon Village. Baskets of produce and pots of cooked food have been placed by the side of the road, sending the message that the Great Leap Forward has been so beneficial that people can give away food to anyone who passes. Eat! We have plenty! I see lots of small children—another of Chairman Mao’s gifts. Have babies! Have more and more babies!
Z.G. and my mother share a bench across the aisle from me. My mother has pulled her body into something small and taut, as though that will protect her from the other passengers, the chickens and ducks, the smells, and the cigarette smoke. Every once in a while, she fingers the little leather pouch that hangs around her neck. It’s identical to the one that Aunt May gave me before I went to college and that I wore when I came to China. I hope my mother isn’t going to keep grasping the pouch and acting like the end is near. I won’t let her take away my happiness, because …
We’re going back to Green Dragon and I’m going to see Tao again!
Shanghai has not been at all like what my mother and aunt described, but there’s a vitality t
hat can’t be resisted. I loved Z.G.’s house. I liked his three servants, although they sometimes looked at me strangely and argued among themselves about things I couldn’t figure out. But apart from that tiny unpleasantness—which Z.G. told me to accept because you can’t stop servants from gossiping—this was the good life, better than anything I’d experienced in Chinatown.
My father is very important. His position—plus a few packs of cigarettes passed to the right person—got me to the front of the line at the doctor’s office when I had a sore throat in the spring, and it’s placed us at the best tables at banquets. I’ve listened to jazz bands play familiar tunes: “You Are My Sunshine,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” and “My Darling Clementine.” Yes, it doesn’t sound very communist or socialist. And yes, everything I’ve been doing since Z.G. and I left Green Dragon months ago is a betrayal of my ideals, but to help China I had to know more about it. The meals—whether cooked at home by Z.G.’s servants or at a banquet—have been delicious. Food in Shanghai is sweet. I remember my mom always liked sugar and she put it on the craziest things, like sliced tomatoes. Now I understand where she got that. Even the fanciest banquet comes with a platter of French fries sprinkled with fine white sugar. There have been so many things to taste, see, and learn. It’s been fun.
Except I could never escape the fact that Shanghai was once my mother and aunt’s home. I don’t want to be them, like them, or reminded of them, and yet I couldn’t avoid any of those things. Just look at the way Z.G. wanted me to wear the clothes from his attic. They were beautiful and all, but the whole thing was kind of creepy. And, of course, my mother was in Shanghai. Z.G. insisted that we see her once a week. I can’t believe how often I had to listen to Mom and Auntie May go on and on about how big and elegant their home was, but I didn’t think it was so great. It was big all right, but dirty and filled with too many people. And what about Cook and the way he kept calling my mom Little Miss? No one’s supposed to talk like that anymore, but he did.
My mother? She’s tried her best—I know she has—but I came to China to get away from her. I don’t want to be reminded of the past. I don’t want to think about my father Sam. When my mother looks at me with her sad eyes, when I hear the reproach in her voice, when I feel her tentative touch on my arm, when I glimpse her hiding in the shadows watching me, I want to get as far away from her as possible. Then a way out of Shanghai happened, but not as I’d hoped, because Z.G. insisted that we ask my mother to join us. But then, the more she balked, the more I wanted her to come. I want to prove her thinking is wrong. I want her to see the glory of the Great Leap Forward. If she can see how happy I am in Green Dragon, then maybe she’ll let me go—release me, like she did when I went away to college.
I stare out the window as the bus nears the drop-off for Green Dragon. Up ahead, several people cluster together, cradling sheaves of rice or carrying welcome signs. From a distance, Kumei waves. Her little boy stands at her side. Ta-ming has grown a lot this past year. Party Secretary Feng Jin and Sung-ling strike straight and dignified poses. There are others as well, but I’m not sure who they are. The one I’m looking for—Tao—has placed himself in front of the group to make sure I see him.
The bus wobbles to a stop. Someone helps my mother down. She says thank you, smoothes her hair, and then clasps her hands and waits. People unload our bags. I grin like a fool. Tao looks just as handsome as when I left—strong, brown from the sun, with a radiant smile. I want to hug him, but of course I can’t.
An unfamiliar bald man steps forward. “I am Brigade Leader Lai,” he says. “I’ve been sent by the district to run the Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune.”
He’s a one-pen cadre, which is only so-so for someone who looks to be about forty. On the other hand, he’s already bald, which is considered a sign of wisdom. All in all, the commune is lucky to have someone of his stature to make sure it meets the goals of the Great Leap Forward.
“Come,” he says. “We’ve prepared a tour and dinner for you.”
He leads the way and we follow. The heat is harsh and white hot. We have a few miles to walk. My mother pulls out an umbrella to shield herself from the sun, and the others look at her in amusement. Eventually, we come to the hill that serves as the natural barrier to Green Dragon. My mother sets her face, adjusts her suitcase in her hand, and determinedly trudges forward. At the crest of the hill, Green Dragon spreads out below us. A new sign has been mounted by the side of the path.
WELCOME TO GREEN DRAGON VILLAGE
MEMBER OF THE DANDELION NUMBER EIGHT PEOPLE’S COMMUNE
1. PLANT MORE.
2. PRODUCE MORE.
3. WORK POINTS WILL BE AWARDED ACCORDING TO PHYSICAL STRENGTH AND HEALTH.
4. ALL PRIVATE HANDICRAFTS AND PRIVATE ENTERPRISES ARE FORBIDDEN.
5. EAT THREE MEALS A DAY FOR FREE.
Brigade Leader Lai babbles about all the changes that have happened in Green Dragon in the last year. “A generator supplies power to loudspeakers that are hung in the trees,” he says, “and in every house not only in this village but in all thirteen villages that make up the Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune. Ours is a small commune—a little over four thousand members. I have a telephone in the leadership hall.”
“I’ve not only seen the telephone,” Kumei brags, “but also heard Brigade Leader Lai speak into it. He’s staying in the villa, and he let me see it one day.”
