Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (14 page)

“You went to sleep again, An Ni. And you were panting like you were running. Please stop doing that.” Mei threw aside a small piece of something and swung her legs over, then hopped down from the desk. “I’m sorry; I didn’t want to lie on the floor. I kept hearing something scurry around.”

An Ni looked around, squinting as she searched the dark corners of the room for any stray visitors. She couldn’t see anything. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry, she almost choked. It felt as if she’d swallowed a bucket of sand. She reached down and held up a corner of the material draped on her, then looked at Mei.

“Rice sacks. I found them in the cupboard. At least a dozen, and one even has some old rice in it. They make good blankets.”

An Ni nodded, pleased with Mei for thinking smart. The rice sacks were huge, probably at one time holding thirty pounds or more of raw rice. Someone using the shack had gone through a lot of rice—that much was sure.

“Water?” An Ni asked weakly.

Mei went to the lowest cupboard, opened it, and brought out a dented tin bowl. “There’s only a bowl but no water.”

An Ni thought. Why would there be rice if they didn’t have water? And someone probably used the shack for days or weeks at a time. They had to have had access to water. “Mei, go outside and look beside the shack; see if there’s a pump out there.”

Mei looked her way, and though An Ni couldn’t see her face clearly, she felt the reluctance.

“I promise I’ll stay awake, and if you don’t come right back, I’ll come out there.”

Mei snorted, telling An Ni she had her doubts about that, but she went. The door obviously had a lock, as An Ni could see when Mei reached up and turned it to the left, then pulled open the door. She stepped out and disappeared from view.

An Ni sat up, ignoring the flash of pain, and listened, hoping to hear Mei holler out something positive. She tried to swallow again, pushing the lump of pain down her throat. But it was hard. She knew she needed water badly.

Suddenly she heard a rusty-sounding creaking, then a swoosh. Mei’d found water!

It ran for a moment, then there was another creak and it stopped.

Mei appeared in the doorway. “Here, An Ni. It was muddy at first, but then it turned clear.” She held the bowl out, balancing it carefully with both hands.

“You first, Mei. You need to drink too.” An Ni could almost taste the wetness on her tongue, but Mei was probably thirsty too.

“I already drank some out there,” Mei said, gently placing the bowl in An Ni’s hands. “It tasted kind of weird, but it was okay.”

An Ni lifted the bowl to her lips and drank quickly, surprised at how much her hands shook. As she drank, she tried to think how long it’d been since she fell off the train. One day and night? Two? She didn’t know, and Mei probably didn’t either.

Her stomach growled, and Mei went to the corner, picked up two of the plastic food trays, and gave one to An Ni, then dropped down to squat on the floor with the other in her hand.

“
Xie xie
, but maybe we should share one. We don’t know how long we’ll be here and need to be careful and ration the food.” An Ni pulled the plastic back and used her finger to mix the chunks of meat into the compartment that held the rice. Then she lifted the tray to her nose and inhaled deeply.

“Is it still okay?” Mei asked. She set the tray she held down on the floor in front of her.

An Ni nodded. “That’s one plus to it being so cold—our food will stay good longer.” She handed the tray to Mei. “Eat half of everything.”

Mei took it, and using her fingers as a scoop, she ate quickly. An Ni realized she’d probably been hungry for hours, but after months of being the youngest in the group and waiting for approval to perform any function whatsoever, she’d waited for An Ni.

Finally, the little girl handed the tray back to An Ni. “Here, your turn.”

An Ni ate so quickly, she didn’t even taste the food. Once again, she felt thankful Mei had grabbed it so that they’d have something. Mei was a smart girl—much smarter even then the older boys in their group.

“What’re we going to do, An Ni?”

“Somersaults?”

Mei gave her a strange look, letting An Ni know her joke fell flat. With a last swipe at the tray, An Ni set it aside. “I’m not sure, but Mei, next time if I’m asleep and you’re hungry—just eat. You don’t have to wait for me to tell you what to do.”

“I’m cold.” Mei grabbed one of the rice sacks An Ni had lain with and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“In the morning, we need to try to get back to the train station. Maybe someone will set their cigarettes down and we can swipe a lighter, then we can bring it back and make a fire in the corner over there.” An Ni didn’t know how she’d ever make it there, but it was the closest place to find people, and she had to give Mei some hope. In their different sleeping areas on the streets, they’d usually have a fire, even if only in a barrel. On cold nights, Tianbing or whoever was in charge would sometimes start one for them to stand around, then later to sleep by.

An Ni looked up when she heard Mei making a strange noise. “Mei? What are you doing?” She squinted, trying to see her face more clearly in the dim moonlight.

Mei didn’t answer, except for a small sniffle.

“Are you crying? Oh,
bu ku le
. Come here.”

An Ni scooted back until she was leaning against the wall and held her arm out. Mei came to her and snuggled in, bumping against An Ni’s leg. Clinching her teeth together, An Ni breathed slowly until the sharp pain subsided back into a low throbbing. When she reached down, her hand moved over a bulge in her pocket. Then she remembered.

“Oh, I have something, Mei.”

She dug in the pocket and came out with the wallet she’d found in seat of the train. She’d forgotten all about it.

“Where did you get that?” Mei asked, sounding bored. Coming up with random wallets wasn’t anything new.

“On the train. But look what I found in it.” She opened the wallet and pulled out the paper with the white man’s face on it. She set that aside, then plucked the photo of the little girl from the inside fold, then set the wallet down beside her. She held the photo where Mei could see.

Mei reached for it, then held it up, squinting in the dark. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But she looks like she’s happy. Like maybe she lives in a warm house and has a mama and baba, and probably goes to school.”

Mei was quiet and An Ni could just see her imagination in motion, wondering what it would be like to again be part of a real family—to have someone to feed and protect you.

“I wonder what her name is,” Mei said softly.

“I don’t know what this says, but it’s probably right here.” An Ni took the photo from Mei and turned it over, then traced the letters with her finger. She’d learned the English alphabet early in school, in her old life. She couldn’t put together words, but she did know her letters.

“I’m scared, An Ni. What if Tianbing comes to find us?”

An Ni squeezed her in and pulled the rice sack over them both. She wished they had something to lie on top of to separate them from the cold floor. She’d also thought many times of the boys leading Tianbing to the train, and then them hunting until they found her and Mei. It terrified her, but she wouldn’t let Mei know that. “Don’t worry. He won’t come. But would it help if I told you a story?”

She felt Mei nod beside her.

“
Hao le
. You hold the picture.” She handed it to Mei. “Have you ever heard of Guanyin?”

Mei gazed at An Ni’s face and mumbled she hadn’t.

“Guanyin is the goddess of compassion and protection. She was named Miao Shan and was the third daughter of a king, and she was the only one who defied him when he picked a rich suitor for her to marry.”

“Why didn’t she want to marry a rich man?” Mei asked.

“Because she wanted to be with someone who was kind and helped others. None of the men her father chose fit what she felt the gods wanted for her. So to punish her defiance, the king sent her to a monastery and ordered that the monks make her work hard on a barren part of the grounds around his palace. His daughters weren’t accustomed to physical labor, so he thought he’d break her of her defiance. Soon, she attracted the help of animals who were drawn to her gentle spirit. Within months, the land she worked looked like a garden of paradise, even in winter. What her father thought would break her actually made her very content.”

“Then what?”

An Ni smiled. Mei knew that couldn’t be all to the story. “Then her father became sick, and the healer told him he’d try to save him. He went out into the kingdom to find all he needed to make his magic concoction. When he’d made it and gave it to the king to drink, it saved his life. The king wanted to know what was in the tonic, and the healer told him it was the ground-up arms and eyes of a saint.”

An Ni glanced at Mei in the dark and could tell she was entranced by the tale.

“So the king asked to be taken to the saint so he might thank him properly. After a day of travel, he was taken to the monastery and found the saint was actually his own daughter, Miao Shan.”

“She didn’t have any arms or legs?”

An Ni shook her head. “No, but she didn’t mind. She gave them out of love for her father, without a thought for herself. Her father was overcome with gratitude and a realization that she really was special. He went to bow down at her feet, but she disappeared in a sudden cloud.”

“Where did she go?” Mei asked.

“It is said that she reappeared later in the clouds, with a thousand arms and eyes in each hand. The people named her Guanyin, god of compassion and mercy. Her many arms are to support those in need, and her eyes are to help her find them. In homes all over China, there are statues of her, and people light candles to show their respect and beckon her into their lives.”

“Maybe Guanyin is looking at us right now. Maybe it’s this girl.” Mei handed An Ni the photo and turned over.

An Ni held the picture to her chest, then snuggled Mei closer. “I think she is, Mei. We have our very own Guanyin, and that means she won’t let anything else bad happen to us. So go to sleep, and don’t be afraid. Tomorrow, we’ll try to make a plan.”

Chapter Thirteen

F
inally Mari felt cold enough that she headed home. Even with all of her procrastinating, she was still only going to be a little over an hour later than usual. And this morning Bolin didn’t even ask how she was going to pay their bills, so she hadn’t volunteered that she’d be working with Max again. Not only did his silence make her feel that he didn’t care, but her own reluctance to volunteer the information felt devious, as if she were lying—even though she wasn’t.

She knew she lingered mostly because she didn’t want to be questioned by Bolin. And if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t even want to see him. After a day spent with Max, someone who appeared to enjoy her conversation and company, going back to her life and what her marriage had become felt more depressing than she could bear. It was past dinnertime, but what of it? Bolin probably wouldn’t eat anyway. She also wanted to walk a few streets to see if she could spot An Ni. The night before, she’d dreamed of her, and that told Mari that fate intended for them to be more than a passing meeting.

She picked up her pace. She’d go in and make Bolin get up and act like a man. She couldn’t take it anymore, his lying around like he was. She just had to get stronger, even meaner. For his own good, and for the good of their marriage.

She opened the bag and ate the rest of the tiny buns she’d picked up that morning and carried in her bag all day as she waited for her appetite to kick in. She thought of An Ni as she swallowed. She’d held onto a few just in case she ran into the girl, but walking up and down the streets hadn’t done any good. The girl had moved on, obviously. Now Mari felt more guilt. She should’ve done something that very night, instead of walking away.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen plenty of street children, before and after meeting An Ni. It was just something about her—that one little girl—that pulled at Mari and wouldn’t allow her to forget her face.

Finally at her apartment building, Mari raced up the stairs and past the many other doors, not wanting to peek in or talk to anyone. She fumbled with her keys, then burst in.

The scene before her made her stop in her tracks.

Bolin was sitting at the table, calmly eating celery sticks.

“Mari, come sit down,” he said and waved her over.

Mari was at a loss for words. Bolin was awake and off the couch? Could this mean he’d turned a corner? She set her bag down by the door and took off her jacket. She hung it on the coat tree then went to the table, pulled a chair out, and sat down.

“Bolin.”

“Mari.” He smiled, raising an eyebrow.

A smile! Mari couldn’t believe it. He was still disheveled, and still wearing the same baggy and musty clothes from the day before, but he was up. And he was smiling. It was a victory, as far as she was concerned.

“I’m glad you’re up. Let me fix you some real dinner.” Mari stood quickly.

Bolin raised his hand to stop her. “No, please. We can worry about dinner later. First, though, I’d like to get cleaned up. Would you help me?”

Mari nodded. “Of course. Let me go get you some clothes ready, and you can take a shower.”

Bolin pushed the dish of celery away and stood. He held onto the table for support, and when he swayed a little, Mari rushed over to him.

“Here, let me help you. I know your back is hurting.” She wouldn’t mention that he was probably dizzy from the pills combined with a lack of nutrition. They both knew it. Neither had to say it.

Together they shuffled to the bathroom, and Bolin leaned on the doorframe while Mari got out a towel and the soap. She was cautiously optimistic that his interest in washing his body was a turning point, but she carefully hid her emotions while moving around the bathroom.

She turned to him. “There’s a towel and the soap. Want to call me when you’re done?”

Bolin stared at her for a moment, then came into the bathroom. He leaned on the sink. “I don’t think I can do it, Mari.”

What was he talking about? “Do what?”

“Shower. Can you help me?”

He was right. He didn’t have the strength to even shower. “Sit down there on the toilet, and let me go get out of these clothes. I’ll help you.”

In their bedroom, she changed quickly into a short nightgown. It would get wet, but it’d be easy to change out of when they finished. She looked at their bed, and a longing came over her, a longing that Bolin would sleep there tonight. With her. Even to simply hold her and help her feel less alone. She pulled down the covers and plumped the pillows, then went to the closet and got Bolin a clean set of pajamas and underwear.

She went back to the bathroom. Bolin was standing at the mirror, leaning in and staring at his reflection, a puzzled look on his face. He looked up when Mari came in and set the clothes on the counter beside the sink.

“I don’t want pajamas. I want real clothes. Bring my lucky shirt, and can you find my belt?”

Mari was taken aback. Bolin hadn’t worn real clothes in weeks, maybe months. But instead of arguing, she picked up the clothes and went back to the bedroom. She exchanged them for pants and his red shirt he used to love to wear on their occasional nights out to dinner, then returned to the bathroom.

“Are we going out?” she asked as she set the new clothes down.

Bolin shrugged. “First let’s get through the shower, and then we’ll see how I feel.”

Mari was all for that, and she turned on the water. He stood and let his pajama bottoms drop from his skinny frame, then peeled off his shirt. Mari didn’t comment that he wasn’t wearing underwear. She didn’t want to nag when he was finally coming out of his daze. When the water was just hot enough, she turned to him and smiled, then slipped out of her nightgown. Why get clothes wet when not needed?

Bolin smiled back weakly. “I wish. But Mari, I barely have the strength to do this. It’d be better if you put that back on.”

Mari felt her face burn with shame, and she slipped the gown back over her head and let it drop. She hadn’t really meant she wanted to do anything—she just thought it’d be easier to help him shower without dealing with her own garments getting wet.

Bolin came over to the corner and stepped up on the small step, then leaned against the shower wall. He only stood for a moment, then he crouched down in a squat and covered his knees, reminding Mari of a child cowering in the corner after being scolded.

Mari began spraying him with the hot water, hoping it would bring him comfort. When he was finally soaked, she turned off the water and set the sprayer down. She picked up the soap and using it, started to cover his back with a smooth coating of bubbles.

He held out his hand. “I’ll do that.”

She turned away and fiddled with her hair while he washed his body. When he gave her the signal, she picked up the sprayer again, using it to rinse him off.

“Aren’t you going to wash my hair?” Bolin mumbled.

“I’m going to do that in the kitchen, over the sink. I think you need a long and relaxing head massage, and I can’t do it in here.”

Bolin sighed visibly, and Mari felt a rush of pity for him. He didn’t ask for much—he just wanted to be out of pain and left alone. How had they come to this? How had her once strong and robust husband shriveled into this smaller, weaker man? It broke her heart.

When she had him rinsed and smelling good, she turned off the water, then reached for his towel. He stood and took it from her, and she turned away to give him privacy. It felt weird to see him naked, as if they were strangers and not intimate partners any longer. Mari wondered if he felt it too.

“Get dressed and come to the kitchen,” she said. She picked up the bottle of shampoo and left the room.

In the kitchen, she pulled the kitchen chair up to the sink and draped towels over the back.

Bolin shuffled in and sat down. He looked so different with real clothes on. He wasn’t wearing the belt he’d asked her to find, but he’d tucked his shirt into his pants and was wearing shoes. Mari was impressed.

He smiled sheepishly, looking as close to happy as he had in a long time. “Can you cut my hair, too?”

Mari nodded and felt her eyes fill. He was making an effort, and that made her heart soar. Maybe they’d be okay after all. She waved him over, unable to speak from the lump in her throat. She’d cut his hair and do so gladly. For months he’d looked like a beggar with his long, shaggy locks. She’d finally stopped bothering him about it, so the fact that he asked her didn’t go unnoticed.

He came and sat in the chair and leaned back. “Do you think Chu Chu’s happy, wherever he’s at?”

That came out of nowhere. So his camel was on his mind. Mari thought maybe he was more of a farmer’s son than he thought. Only someone who’d grown up close to animals would have such a connection to a creature like their stubborn camel.

“Chu Chu is still young enough to work, and that makes him worth more than just the meat any thief could sell him for. I think he’s probably being taken care of better than even we did. Don’t worry about him, Bolin.” Mari leaned over him and adjusted the water until it was hot. His hair was still wet from the shower, so she squeezed some shampoo onto it and began rubbing it in. Then gently, with his face resting against her chest, she massaged his head. She looked down to see him close his eyes, a look of rapture on his face, and it made her smile. “I’m so glad you’re awake, Bolin.”

He nodded, then was somber again. “Mari, I just want to say I’m not mad at you about the foreigner anymore. I know you had to do what you could to pay our bills. And I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through.”

She kept her fingers moving and was glad he didn’t see the tears as they started to rain down her face. When she could speak without her voice trembling, she said, “It’s okay. Maybe now we can get back on track.”

Bolin shook his head and reached out and lightly grabbed her wrist. She stopped moving for a moment, relishing the feel of his touch on her skin. His words were sad, but ironically, his voice wasn’t. He sounded as if he’d finally made peace with the truth. “No, it’s not okay. I wanted to do more for you.
Be
more for you. I just wanted to be able to prove to everyone that I’m not just a farmer’s son. But I’ve failed.”

Her fingers moved harder, pressing against his neck now. She’d wanted him to take accountability for his actions for such a long time, but now that he was, her heart broke for him.

“Never say that, Bolin. You haven’t failed. It’s not your fault you got hurt.” She wouldn’t mention it was his fault he got addicted to the pills. He was on an upturn, and she wouldn’t ruin it by pointing out the obvious.

“No, but it is my fault that I can’t overcome it. I’m weak, Mari. My father was right—I should’ve never left the countryside.”

Mari stopped massaging and began rinsing the suds from his hair, using gentle, repeated motions to comfort him. She didn’t know what to say. It was clear now that everything Bolin had ever done was to prove to his father that he could do it. His current circumstances were more about the father-son battle than they were about her marriage. He carried so much resentment against his father. How was she to help him through that? Her words were going nowhere, that much was clear.

“If you want, we can always go back,” she said softly. Maybe the clean country air and simple life would return him to health, get his mind straight again, even help him break his addiction for good. And it could be possible that, to bridge the gulf between father and son, they needed to be pushed together. She was willing to do whatever it took, even to labor on a farm again.

“Going back would be my last resort. My father would love to see my defeat—see how I’ve lost face. But Mari, I need you to know this, you are the one bright moment in my life. No other man from our village has ever or will ever have a woman like you. It was me—I won you over when my father told me I couldn’t. I won the pretty girl who laughed like music.” A smile of satisfaction lit up his face.

Mari urged him to sit up, then wrapped the towel around his head. She went to get the scissors from the drawer on the other wall. When she returned, he was staring at his hands, and his expression had changed to one of sadness again.

“Look at these, Mari. Why did I ever think I could be a businessman? These are nothing but farmer’s hands. He was right. My father said all I was good for was laboring in the fields.”

She crossed the room and took the towel from his head. She would not let him feel sorry for himself anymore, but his moods, switching from happy to sad so fast, were starting to worry her. “He wasn’t right, Bolin. And don’t talk like that. You are going to be the man you want to be. You just have to get back out there. We can figure out a new business, and we can make it happen. You think like an entrepreneur, and sometimes entrepreneurs fail at many things before they find just the right formula for success. We’ve just got to figure out the next thing.”

She started combing and cutting his hair, letting it drop around them onto the kitchen floor. They stopped talking as she moved around him, trimming even faster. As she worked, the distance that had grown between them over the last several months got smaller and smaller, until Mari finally felt comfortable enough to lean against him, to feel her body touching his once again.

Bolin looked up at her when she’d finished. He stared into her eyes, and Mari realized it was probably the first time in months he’d really looked at her. She felt self-conscious for a second, wishing she’d taken more time that day to make herself pretty.