The Cooked Seed (49 page)

The night before his first implant surgery, my father sat on his bed. He said that he was uncomfortable with my spending so much money on him. My watered-down dollar amount was still an astronomical number to my father. I encouraged him to get some sleep. He asked if he could speak to Dr. Barbanell tomorrow. “See if he could do partial implants, not a full mouth.”

“It has to be full mouth,” I insisted. “It’s like building a dike. A few rocks won’t stand the pressure.”

With Lloyd faithfully driving my father to his dental appointments and thanks to Dr. Barbanell and his partner Dr. Delacruze, my old man got his full set of new teeth. My father was a kid again. He couldn’t believe that he was able to eat what he ate as a village boy, things like fried fava beans and dried pears. He loved to chew corn off the cob. He was happy and burdened at the same time. When he showed off his teeth to his friends in China, he would say, “What I have in my mouth is worth a house! I can’t die now, because Anchee’s investment will die with me.”

With his revived health and energy, my father became restless. He started to miss his work in China. Although in his late seventies, Naishi Min was still considered China’s leading scholar in astronomy education. Before he retired, he was director of the Planetarium of the Shanghai Children’s Center. My father’s work included organizing contests in astronomy. The biggest contest he held had sixty thousand participants. My father was the chief judge, and he enjoyed his status and influence tremendously. In the meantime, he became a columnist for the
China Astronomy Magazine
. While waiting for his gums to heal and his implants to set in America, he designed astronomy pop-up books that were published by China Science Publishing houses and the Beijing Planetarium. Lloyd understood my father’s desire to go back to China. “The man’s got to slay the dragon,” Lloyd said. My father wanted to feel needed and useful.

Finally my father returned to China. He has been happy ever since. “No one took me for my real age,” he reported. “Not with my full set of teeth! It helps me look young, not that it’s necessarily good now that I’m having girl trouble.”

At eighty, my father had been invited to lecture on astronomy in China’s elementary and middle schools and universities. His new books were selling and the publishers were printing second editions.

“Have you gone to see a dentist for cleaning?” I asked when I phoned him.

My father went silent.

“You haven’t been going, right?” I continued.

The silence continued.

“You’ve got to go!”

“I always brush my teeth after each meal,” he said.

“But professional cleaning is a necessity. The dentist will go where your brush can’t reach.”

My father was quiet again.

“You still are afraid, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Uh, Chinese dentists can ruin my implants. To them dentistry is about pulling teeth.”

“The times have changed, Dad. China’s dentists have gone through dental school and earned medical degrees.”

“You are talking like an American, Anchee. Too trusting. Anyway, I think I am good for life.”

“What do you mean, ‘good for life’?”

“My teeth were made in America. Dr. Barbanell built a fortress inside my mouth. I can still chew if I was to lose half of my teeth.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. Believe me. I was the one who knew what it’s like not being able to chew rice.”

Looking at my father’s recent photo, the one where he was standing next to a high-speed Maglev line, my heart was filled with joy. My old man’s smile was so free—free of anxiety and gloom. I remembered how he was saddened when I couldn’t get out of bed due to my spine injury. He could do nothing but watch when I coughed blood and my life was withering in front of his eyes. I also remembered his terror after learning that I was trying to go to America. “You will never make it! You will only be doomed and punished for trying to escape to an enemy country!”

Today, life means getting to know myself more, staying in touch with myself, making improvements upon myself, and, most of all, enjoying life. The cooked seed sprouted. My root regenerated, deepened, and spread. I blossomed, thrived, and grew into a big tree.

Every morning as I rise, I count my blessings:

I get to take a hot shower twice a day if I want

I get to brush my real teeth

I get to wear a set of clean clothes, clean underwear, and a clean pair of socks

I don’t have to wait in a line for someone to get off the pot—I have my own toilet, my own bathroom, bedroom, living room, and kitchen

I can say, “I quit!” and look for another job if I want to

I have no worries over where my next meal will come from

I smile every Tuesday when Lloyd goes shopping to buy me what he thinks I need. He stocks the kitchen with fresh-picked vegetables and fruits from farmers’ markets. He buys packs of dental floss and toilet paper, bags of potting soil, and boxes of rechargeable batteries. In case of an earthquake, there are water purifiers and canned and dry goods and an emergency medical kit.

The greatest reward came when I was least expecting it. Lauryann came home on Thanksgiving holiday. She is now a junior at Stanford University. I was surprised and impressed by the independent thinker she had become.

“Mom, it’s your duty to write your memoir,” she said. “Your editor is right—you need to dig deeper. You are not good at examining your own pain. You are good at killing the pain. Okay, you don’t want to visit your past, but you owe it to so many women in the world who are trapped in a similar situation to the one you once were in, and who don’t have a voice or a platform!”

Lauryann sat Lloyd and me down and briefed us with what she had been learning and doing at Stanford. She was passionate and focused, with great purpose and drive. “We want to make a difference,” she said. Her tone was urgent. “And we think we can, because we care.” She talked about a project she had been developing with her schoolmates. “Our billboard will read, PRODUCTIVITY ≠ $.” She told us that she had been taking classes that would prepare her. “I’m determined to be part of the change. The system needs to change. I’d like to find out, for example, why so many primary doctors have abandoned the patients who need them the most for specialty fields. I want to find out what’s wrong and help fix it.”

I told my daughter how pleased I was, and that she was fulfilling my dream. She was my repayment to America.

“Mom, remember the documentary
Doctors Without Borders
you dragged me to see when I was fifteen?” Lauryann continued, smiling. “I was not enthusiastic because it was not my choice. I wasn’t sure that the health-care profession was something I wanted to get into. I didn’t want to just do what my mom wanted. I wanted to do what
I
wanted. Thanks for respecting my space. But Mom, aren’t you glad your wish is coming true? This is what I want to do with my life. I am committed. And I need your help through it. I want your input. Would you be my adviser? I’d like to test-drive my ideas and brainstorm with you. You’re no-nonsense and tough. That’s why I want you on board. Don’t shoot me down too quickly. Go and fix your writing first. Dig deep. I know you can.”

After I finish writing, I take long walks in the hills. As I climb the east side of a hill, I am bathed in the morning sun. I feel fresh air in my lungs. My back is straight without pain. Happiness is in my every cell. Lines, my favorite from
Jane Eyre
, come to mind:

I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! … I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh:—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal,—as we are!

ANCHEE MIN was born in Shanghai in 1957. At seventeen, she was sent to a labor collective, where a talent scout for Madame Mao’s Shanghai Film Studio selected her to work as an actress in propaganda films. Min moved to the United States in 1984. Her first book, the memoir
Red Azalea
, became an international bestseller. She has also published six novels, including
Becoming Madame Mao
,
Empress Orchid
, and, most recently,
Pearl of China
. Her books have been translated into thirty-two languages.

Pearl of China

The Last Empress

Empress Orchid

Wild Ginger

Becoming Madame Mao

Katherine

Red Azalea

Copyright © 2013 by Anchee Min

All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

Some of the names, locations, and details of the events in this book have been changed to protect the privacy of persons involved.

Published by Bloomsbury USA, New York

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA HAS BEEN APPLIED FOR.

eISBN: 978-1-60819-424-7

First U.S. Edition 2013
The electronic edition published in May 2013

www.bloomsbury.com