Mulberry and Peach (24 page)

‘Mrs James strove to preserve the water tower because it was a historic monument. But she doesn't want the water tower to endanger anyone's life. She has now decided to tear the water tower down.'

The lumberjack and I left the water tower. We hadn't planned on living there for the rest of our lives. He wanted to go east. I wanted to go west. We split up. He planned to cut down trees for people as he went, to save money to buy a camper to go to California. I told him the story about Donner Lake. He said he'd certainly pass through Donner Lake on the way to California. I want to find a place to give birth to my child. I'm going to give birth to a little life that's my own flesh and blood. Now I'm alone again.

When I left the water tower I hung a wooden plaque on the iron legs with the following words, imitating what was written on the plaque that the astronauts left on the moon:

Peach
21 March 1970

 

P.S. I enclose Mulberry's diary in America, several letters from Chiang I-po, several letters Mulberry wrote in New York but didn't mail, and several letters from Sang-wa in Taiwan: she has fallen in love with a middle-aged married man. His wife is expecting their fifth child.

(July 1969—January 1970)

 

 

CHARACTERS

MULBERRY, she is now 41. She has applied for permanent residency in the USA. Everything in her life has been destroyed: her past, her traditional values, and her ethics have been shattered. She is schizophrenic.

PEACH, Mulberry's other personality, who plunges Mulberry into a life of promiscuity and adventure.

CHIANG 1-PO, a Chinese professor. He cannot commit himself to anything and cannot choose between Mulberry and his wife. He lives in China's past and is neither Chinese nor American.

TENG, (in his 30s), a Chinese college student. He represents some young Chinese intellectuals in the USA.

BETTY CHIANG, (in her 50s), Chiang's bored, crazy wife.

TAN-HUNG, (in her 40s), Teng's older sister. Married with no children.

JERRY, (in his 40s), Tan-hung's husband, an American born Chinese, a stock broker in New York. He is in love with machines, especially cameras, and is remote and indifferent to Chinese problems.

 

I'm in Room 81 of the Immigration Service. I sit facing the window. The window is shut. The row of windows opposite me, in the tall grey office building, is also shut. The investigator from the Immigration Service is sitting across from me; we are separated by a grey steel desk. He is bald with a sharp chin, and a pencil moustache. He is wearing dark glasses. A red-lipped secretary is sitting behind another grey steel desk. On the desk is an electric typewriter. The man in dark glasses pulls a thick folder out the file cabinet. In the corner of
the folder is my alien registration number: (Alien) 89-785-462. He opens the folder, and pulls out a stack of forms and asks me to look them over.

So many dates, so many addresses. I don't read it all the way through. I pass the form back to the man in dark glasses. He opens the folder and replaces the form. Inside the folder are many more forms. He presses the folder shut with his two hands and shrugs. ‘Helen, are there any mistakes in the form?'

‘My name is Mulberry. I haven't used the name Helen for a long time.'

‘Mulberry - foreign names sure sound funny. Now, let's get back to business.'

He opens the folder, studies the contents, then shuts it again. ‘This is the information we obtained from our investigation of you. If you want to apply for permanent residency, you must go through an investigation. We still don't know the result of the investigation. We want to continue investigating. Now we want a deposition from you.' He motions to the secretary. She immediately poises her hands on the typewriter keyboard.

‘Helen, please raise your right hand and repeat the oath after me.'

I raise my right hand.

‘I, Helen Mulberry Shen, on July 17, 1969, do solemnly swear . . .'

‘I, Helen Mulberry Shen, on July 17, 1969, do solemnly swear . . .'

‘That what I am about to say is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth . . .'

‘That what I am about to say is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth . . .'

‘So help me God.'

‘So help me God.'

‘Or else I will fully submit to punishment by American Law.'

‘Or else I will fully submit to punishment by American law.'

Da-da-da. The typewriter types each word.

‘Now, I want to ask you some questions. What is your name?'

‘Mulberry Shen.'

‘I'm sorry. Please use the name Helen Mulberry Shen. What is your nationality?'

‘Chinese.'

‘When were you born?'

‘October 16, 1929.'

‘What is your father's name?'

‘Sang Wan-fu.'

‘When did he commit suicide?'

‘October 7, 1948.'

‘Why did he commit suicide?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Was he a Communist?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘What is your mother's name?'

‘Sang Chin-chih.'

‘Where is she now?'

‘Mainland China.'

‘Is she a Communist?'

‘She wasn't a Communist when I left the mainland. After that, I don't know.'

‘What did she do before she married your father?'

‘She was a prostitute.'

‘Are you in contact with her?'

‘In the beginning, we wrote several times. Later, we stopped.'

‘What is your younger brother's name?'

‘Sang Pao-tz'u.'

‘When did he leave Nanking to go to the Communist areas?'

‘October 6, 1948, the day before my father committed suicide.'

‘Is he a Communist?'

‘When he was in Nanking, I don't think he was a Communist.'

‘Why did he go to the Communist areas?'

‘He couldn't survive at home.'

‘Are you in contact with him?'

‘No. He died in the Korean War.'

‘When did you leave Nanking to go to Peking?'

‘December 1948. It was after my father died. I don't remember the exact date.'

‘At that time did you know Peking was encircled by the Communists?'

‘Yes.'

‘Were you a Communist at that time?'

‘No.'

‘Did you go to Peking to work for the Communists?'

‘No.'

‘Why did you flee to an encircled city?'

‘I couldn't survive in Nanking. My only way out was Peking.'

‘What's your husband's name?'

‘Shen Chia-kang.'

‘Was he a Communist?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘What did the Taiwan police want him for?'

‘He embezzled government funds.'

‘Why did you hide in the attic as well?'

‘To be with him.'

‘Were you guilty?'

‘I wasn't guilty of any crime I know of.'

‘Do you know a person by the name of Chao T'ien-k'ai?'

‘Yes.'

‘Is he a Communist?'

‘When he was on the mainland, some people said he was a Nationalist. When he got to Taiwan, the Nationalists said he was a Communist. I really don't know which he was.'

‘Why was he sent to prison?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Did you help him?'

‘No.'

‘Someone said you saw him the day before he was arrested.'

‘Yes.'

‘Where did you meet?'

‘In the Little Moonlight Cafe in Taipei.'

‘Why did you see him?'

‘We were classmates from Nanking, and went together for a while. I ran into him on the street in Taipei, and we went to the Little Moonlight Cafe for a cup of coffee.'

‘Did you commit adultery with him?'

‘No.'

‘Whom did you commit adultery with?'

‘. . .'

‘In Taiwan, did you commit adultery with Ts'ai Ch'eng-te?'

‘. . .'

‘Did you commit adultery with Ts'ai Ch'eng-te?'

‘. . .'

‘Did you commit adultery with Ts'ai Ch'eng-te?'

The two black lenses move toward me threateningly.

‘Please answer my question.'

‘I was intimate with Mr. Ts'ai for a time.'

‘I'm sorry. Please answer the question again. You cannot use generalizations like “was intimate.” I am investigating your behavior. “Committing adultery” is behavior. You must use a definite “yes” or

“no” in reply to my questions. Did you commit adultery with Ts'ai Ch'eng-te?'

‘Yes.'

‘Define the words: “commit adultery.”'

‘When a woman and a married man or a man and a married woman sleep together, that's adultery.'

‘You should change “sleep together” to “have sexual intercourse.” Please say it again.'

‘When a woman and a married man, or a man and a married woman have sexual intercourse, that's adultery.'

‘Was Ts'ai Ch'eng-te married?'

‘His wife was dead.'

‘Were you married?'

‘Yes.'

‘When did you and Ts'ai Ch'eng-te first have sexual intercourse?'

‘I don't remember the exact date. I only recall it was after we left the funeral parlor.'

‘What you're saying is, after you saw his wife put in the coffin?'

‘Yes.'

‘So that's how it was. How many times did you have sexual intercourse with Ts'ai Ch'eng-te?

‘I don't remember. That was ten years ago.'

‘How often did you have sexual intercourse?'

‘There wasn't a definite schedule.'

‘How long did intercourse last each time?'

‘I don't know. I'd fall asleep after intercourse. I wouldn't look at my watch.'

‘Have you ever participated in any anti-American activity?'

‘No.'

‘Are you now a Communist?'

‘No.'

‘Are you a leftist?'

‘No.'

‘Are you loyal to the American government?'

‘I'm Chinese.'

‘But you're applying for permanent residency in America. Are you loyal to the American government?'

‘Yes.'

‘Is there anything else you would like to explain?'

‘No.'

The man in the dark glasses signals with his hands. The electric typewriter stops.

‘OK. The Immigration Service must continue its investigation. You'll have to await the final decision.'

‘When will that be?'

‘I don't know. The investigative process must go through related Chinese and American channels. We still have to interview many different kinds of people, and gather information on you from various sources. Only then can we reach a decision: permanent residency or deportation.'

‘Whom are you interviewing?'

‘Some are your friends. Some are people you don't know.'

‘Even if they are friends, they don't necessarily know me.'

‘That doesn't make any difference. What we want to investigate isn't your state of mind, your emotions, or your motivations. I'll say it again: what we want to investigate is your behaviour. And that can be observed by anybody. Now please make a fingerprint on the deposition.'

I make a fingerprint with my thumb on the deposition.

‘Excuse me. I'll have to have you sign this as well.'

I sign ‘Helen Mulberry Shen' on the deposition.

‘Good luck, Helen.' The man in dark glasses stands up and thrusts his hand across the grey steel desk to shake hands.

 

I am running on top of the stone wall in Nanking. The sun is about to set over the lake. Rocks are strewn at the base of the city wall. On each rock perches a white cat with black tail. The city wall is crumbling about to fall, about to fall -
about to fall down on top of all those white cats with black tails. I turn and run toward the Temple of the Crowing Cock. Where is the Temple? And where is the old monk who rings the bell? A man in dark glasses chases me on the stone city wall. First one, then two, then three
,
then four, then five . . . close behind me, a file of men in dark glasses
-
all bald, with pointed chins and wearing dark suits. I turn around again and run toward the lake. The stone wall is about to fall down on the cats' backs. The cats glare at me. The men in dark glasses point at me shouting, ‘(Alien) 89
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785
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462. if you want to run, you'd better step on the cats' backs!' The stone wall collapses, the cats with the white bodies and black tails disappear. Corpses lie in heaps under the stone. My father, my brother, Chia-kang, my mother. Did mother die, too? Uncle Ts‘ai? Did he die, too? He just married a young girl in Taiwan. He can't die! I step on the naked corpses as I run, leaving an imprint of my foot on each soft and pliant body and I babble, ‘I treated you badly when you were alive and now you're dead and I still step on you. But I can't help it
-
I have to get away!' As I step on Chia-kang's body, he suddenly sits up. He doesn't speak but just looks at me laughing silently. Sang-wa stands far off to the side and points at my naked body yelling, ‘Prostitute. The prostitute is going to give birth to a bastard!' ‘I'm your mother. Come over here! We'll start a new life together.‘ I am screaming but no sound comes out. I look up to see Chiang I-po in a little boat on the lake. I call out, ‘I-po! I-po! Come over here and take me back!' I still can't make any sound. I must already be dead. Only the dead can't make any sound. I'm already dead
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dead
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dead . . .