Three Sisters (21 page)

She burst out crying. "I've been a terrible sister and I'm so sorry."

"Have you no feelings for family?" Yumi said. "Not this family, our family?"

Yuxiu sobbed as she let go of her sister's legs and listened carefully. Guilt and remorse told her that this time she'd really and truly grown up and had become an adult. She vowed she'd never again do anything to disappoint her sister, no matter what. She buried her head in Yumi's bosom and said what was in her heart. "Everything, it's all been my fault, and I swear I'll never disappoint you again. If I do I know I'll die a horrible death."

The sun at noon that Sunday was blazing hot, so Yumi decided to air the winter clothes—which had been stored in a chest during the rainy season—since fastidious homemakers always aired their clothing under the summer sun to prevent mold.

Yuxiu rummaged through closets and opened chests, adorning the yard with lines of colorful clothing and filling the air with the smell of mothballs, an odor that Yumi had actually liked in years past. But this year was a little different—the smell did not please her, probably as a result of her morning sickness. Almost everything smelled different these days. Sitting in the living room, hands resting on her belly, she felt good about herself, perfectly contented now that she had claimed final victory. By the look of things, she would have the last laugh.

What she had to concern herself with now was how to get Guo Jiaxing moving in the right direction to find a job for Yuxiu. She sat in his rattan chair all afternoon, half asleep, lazily fanning herself with a dried palm frond and gazing through half-closed eyes at the clothing in the yard. Eventually her eyes closed and the fan dropped to the floor. Yuxiu rushed over, picked it up, and waved it over her sister for a while until she woke up.
Life is not perfect,
Yumi thought.
But everything is going smoothly—like a lovely maiden's features—so why not enjoy my pregnancy? This is my chance to take it easy.

Yuxiu kept going back out into the blazing heat; the shimmering sunlight was harsh and blinding. She squinted as she turned the pieces of clothing in the yard with light, nimble movements. Standing amid the piles of clothes with the weight of the heat on her, she smelled the powerful odor of mothballs that permeated and spread under the sun. She breathed in deeply as her spirit soared. That feeling came not only from the mothballs, but from something else as well. After years of contending with Yumi, she had fallen to her knees before her sister in the end. Her unconditional surrender had brought happiness, a different kind of bliss.

When it gains the quality of habit, submission can be addictive and can make a person content with her lot and turn her into someone who is willingly compliant. And it feels better with the passage of time. Qiaoqiao's absence from home, of course, played an important role, and the longer she stayed away, the simpler life became. Yuxiu assumed that Qiaoqiao would not be returning anytime soon, certainly not until the blowup over being sent down to a production unit in the countryside had died down. But even if she did come home, it wouldn't be long before she was off to work in the textile mill. So Yuxiu allowed herself to envision a hopeful future. She began to hum a song she'd heard in a movie and a few tunes from a local opera.

Shortly after three in the afternoon, a knock at the gate interrupted her reveries. Most of the time the gate was left open, but Yumi had decided it wasn't a good idea for the people who worked in the government offices to see all that nice clothing—expensive woolens, fine silks, khakis, and an array of knitting yarns—displayed out in the open. So she'd closed the gate and bolted it. It's always best to get rich quietly.

Since the clothes had belonged to Guo Jiaxing's first wife, Yumi had every right to own and wear them. Even if she chose not to wear all of them, she could send some back to Wang Family Village to be altered and handed out as new clothes for her sisters. They would be the beneficiaries of nice things to wear, and Yumi would gain considerable face. The sisters would enjoy the fruits of her magnanimity.

Yuxiu went up to the gate and opened it. A young man she'd never seen before stood there; a faux leather briefcase with the word
SHANGHAI
stamped on it was sitting on the step beside him. He was good-looking and obviously cultured; his shirt, with a pen in the pocket, was tucked into his pants. To still be so neat and trim on such a hot day spoke of a rare vitality. Yuxiu and the young man stood on opposite sides of the gate sizing each other up for a long moment.

"Big sister," Yuxiu called out, "Guo Zuo's home." By the time she'd reached down and picked up the briefcase, the young man was standing beneath the eaves next to Yumi, who stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Aiya," she blurted out finally and stepped down into the yard, where she managed another "aiya."

"You must be Yumi," he said with a smile. He looked to be roughly the same age as she was, which caused her embarrassment. But he treated the situation better than she had imagined he would. She waved her fan in front of him a couple of times. By then Yuxiu had walked up with a washbasin. Yumi dipped a towel in the water, wrung it out, and handed it to him. "You're sweaty. Here, wipe your face."

Guo Zuo had called Yumi by her name, which she found pleasing. That eliminated the possibility of all sorts of awkwardness and introduced an instant rapport that would make it easier for them to get along. He appeared to be a couple of years older than she, and while their roles in the family were mother and son, they were actually of the same generation. Yumi liked what she saw; he had made a good first impression.
There is certainly something to be said for sons,
she told herself.
Qiaoqiao was a strange, unpleasant girl who did not know what was good for her. This one was much better behaved.

Once he'd wiped his sweaty face, Guo Zuo looked cool and fresh as he sat in his father's rattan chair, picked up his father's cigarettes, and lit one. He took a deep drag as Yumi told her sister to gather up all the clothes in the yard while she went into the kitchen to make a bowl of light soup with noodles. However one looked at it, Yumi was a mother, so she needed to act like one. By the time Yuxiu had steeped some tea for Guo Zuo, he was quietly reading a thick brick of a book. Yuxiu, who had been in a decent mood to begin with, was now feeling even better. So good, in fact, that the seductress abruptly resurfaced. It had been a long time, and she welcomed the return of her old self. She might not have been able to put these feelings into words, but there was no mistaking the sense of delight they brought.

She wasn't singing now, but there were songs in her heart, and the arias from the local operas were accompanied by gongs and drums. Her spirits were on the rise, thanks to this happy turn of events. On each of her repeated trips in and out of the room, she cast a glance in Guo Zuo's direction, intentionally or not. It was an impulsive act that she couldn't resist.

Guo Zuo noticed. He looked up at Yuxiu, who was standing just beyond the door under the blazing sun, wearing a straw hat with a wide brim on which a saying from Chairman Mao was printed:
MUCH CAN BE ACCOMPLISHED IN THIS VAST WORLD.
When their eyes met, Yuxiu smiled at him for no apparent reason. She was happy and exuberant, and this seemingly vacuous display was a genuine expression of the feelings that flowed from her heart. The sun, which had migrated to the western sky, lit up her teeth and made them sparkle.

There have been so many changes,
Guo Zuo thought.
It no longer seems like my house. The place feels so full of life.
When his mother died, Guo Zuo ought to have come home for the funeral and stayed for a while, using up his accumulated vacation days. But his father was busy delivering the body to the crematorium the day after she died, and when he returned home, he wrote a long letter to Guo Zuo, filled with serious philosophical issues. Guo placed great importance on expounding upon materialism and the dialectics of life and death. So Guo Zuo did not return home.

But now he was back, not for a vacation, but to recuperate from a work-related injury. During a training exercise for an outpost team he had suffered a concussion and was sent home to recover.

When Guo Jiaxing returned from the office, father and son greeted each other with simple nods of the head. Guo asked his son a question or two; Guo Zuo replied in the same perfunctory manner, and that was it—nothing more was said.

What an intriguing family,
Yuxiu said to herself.
Blood relations who
treat each other as comrades. Even their greetings are in the same hurried manner as if they were making revolution or promoting production. There can't be many fathers and sons like this.

Guo Zuo stayed close to home, spending his waking hours walking or lying around or sitting in the living room with a book.
An enigma like his father,
Yuxiu thought. But it took only a few days for her to see that she was wrong. Unlike his father, Guo Zuo had a penchant for conversation and enjoyed a good laugh. On a day when both Guo Jiaxing and Yumi were at work, Guo Zuo sat in his father's chair with a book resting on his knees as he smoked a cigarette, the blue smoke curling into the surrounding silence then fanning out until only a tail was left, which flickered briefly and then disappeared. After a nap, Yuxiu walked into the living room to straighten things up and pour Guo Zuo a cup of tea. He appeared to have just gotten up from a nap himself; marks from the straw mat still creased his cheek like patchwork corduroy. That struck Yuxiu as funny, but she smothered her laugh in the crook of her arm when he looked up.

"What's so funny?" he asked, puzzled.

Yuxiu dropped her arm; the smile was gone, replaced by a look of innocence, as if it had been nothing at all. She coughed.

"I haven't even asked you your name," Guo Zuo said, closing his book.

Yuxiu blinked a couple of times and, with her dark eyes fixed on his face, raised her chin and said, "Guess."

For the first time Guo Zuo noticed that her eyelids were as wide as leek leaves and deep—utterly bewitching with their double-folds.

"That's a tough assignment," he said, looking stymied.

"Well," Yuxiu said to help him, "my sister's name is Yumi, which means I have to be 'Yu' something. The 'mi' in her name means 'rice,' so you wouldn't expect me to be called 'da mi'—big rice—would you?

Guo Zuo laughed and struck a thoughtful pose. "So, it's 'yu' what?"

"Xiu," Yuxiu said, "as in 'youxiu,' you know, 'outstanding.'"

Guo Zuo nodded and went back to his book. She had assumed he was in the mood to talk. But he wasn't.

How can a book be that engrossing?
Yuxiu wondered. She took a corner of the book between her thumb and forefinger, bent over, cocked her head, and read "Spar—ta—cus." She kept staring at it, knowing the Chinese characters, but having no idea what she was reading.

"Is that a translation from English?" she asked.

Guo Zuo smiled, but didn't respond.

"It must be," she said. "Otherwise I'd understand it."

Again he smiled, but this time he nodded and said, "Yes, it is."
The girl's not only pretty,
he thought.
But she possesses a sort of unlettered intelligence and a bit of unsophisticated cunning. Very interesting and quite amusing.

With the scorching sun shining in the yard, it had been an enjoyable afternoon, but the weather changed abruptly. Gusts of wind rose up, followed by a rainfall that quickly turned into a downpour. Large drops bounced off the ground and the kitchen roof, and the house was promptly shrouded in a dense mist that formed a watery curtain just beyond the living-room door.

Yuxiu reached out through the curtain; Guo Zuo walked up and stuck his hand out next to hers. The insane torrent stopped as quickly as it had begun; it had only rained for four or five minutes. The watery curtain was replaced by beads of water that fell one at a time, creating a tranquil, lingering, dreamlike aura. The brief rainsquall had cooled the air, a welcome respite from the heat. Yuxiu's mind wandered, her arm still suspended in midair. Her thoughts were miles away; she seemed to be staring at her hand, but saw nothing, although her dark curly lashes blinked rhythmically in concert with the beads of water dripping from the roof and also created a tranquil, lingering, dreamlike aura. Then she came back down to earth.

She smiled at Guo Zuo through a veil of embarrassment that seemed to come out of nowhere, reddening her face, deeper and deeper, and forcing her to avert her eyes. She had, she felt, just taken a mysterious journey somewhere.

"I guess I should call you aunty," Guo Zuo said. That simple statement reminded her that there was an established relationship between her and Guo Zuo—aunt and nephew. An aunt at her age? The question was: Did becoming his aunt bring them closer together or increase the distance between them? She mulled over the concept of "aunt"; to her it implied intimacy, and as it wound its way around her mind, she began to blush again. Afraid he would notice, but secretly hoping he might, she experienced feelings of elation mixed with threads of sadness that made her heart race.

Once the ice is broken, conversation comes more easily. And so it did for Yuxiu and Guo Zuo, who were able to talk comfortably about many things. Her favorite topics were urban life and movies, and he always had ready answers to her questions. She was bursting with curiosity. Guo Zuo could see that even though she was a country girl, she was ambitious and had an expansive mind—she was a bit on the wild side, having the sort of impudence typical of someone who has no desire to spend the rest of her life in farming villages. There was a deep yearning in her dark, exceedingly soft eyes, which were like the feathered wings of a night bird that, having no feet, does not know where to land. Yuxiu, who spoke only the local dialect, wanted him to teach her how to speak
Putonghua,
the national language.

"I can't speak it either," he said.