Song of the Silk Road (31 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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BOOK: Song of the Silk Road
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PART FOUR
30
Mindy Madison
I
t took me three whole days to organize myself to pack and be ready to leave—this time for good. Two days before, I went to Keku’s house to inform her of my departure.
“
Aiiya.
” She widened her eyes. “How come so fast?”
“Keku, I’ve been here for almost six months now. It really is time for me to go home.”
“Then when come back, soon?”
“Hmm . . . I’ll try.” In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever come back, but had no heart to say so to those longing eyes.
Just then Mito came in and tugged at my shirt, then extended his hands, his palms two miniature basins waiting to be filled. Smiling down at this child who seemed to have stepped right out of a fairy tale, I placed a bag of candies on one palm and a plastic car on the other. He shrieked with pleasure, popping a candy in his mouth with one hand while grasping his trophy with the other.
Keku looked at her son affectionately, then turned back to me. “Please come back and play more with Mito. He loves you.”
“I love Mito, too,” I said, then stooped to touch the child’s angelic face. “Mito, will you miss me?”
To my shock, he shook his head.
Keku immediately came to my rescue. “Miss Lin, remember, he doesn’t understand Chinese.” Then she translated for her son. After that, Mito nodded his head like a pestle pounding on a mortar.
I laughed.
A few seconds passed and Keku shot me a chiding glance. “
Aiiya,
Miss Lin, now you’ve spoiled rotten Mito. What am I going to do after you’ve left?”
I smiled. “Then spoil him more.”
“With what?”
I sighed. “Sorry, Keku, but I can’t stay here forever.”
“I know, I know.
Aiiya
, very lonely after you’ve gone.”
“Keku, you have your women friends.”
She leaned close to me. “Miss Lin, you spoil me rotten, too. You are so smart, so now I only like talk to you. They stupid, no interest.” She winked. “But don’t tell them!”
We both laughed.
The morning of departure, Keku and her husband, Abu, helped to load my belongings into the waiting taxi. Mito helped by just standing there hanging onto the hem of his mother’s dress and looking as cute as a little Buddha. Other villagers gathered around to watch. I thanked the Uyghur couple and Keku’s woman friends, hugged and kissed Mito, waved to all, then climbed inside the waiting vehicle.
The driver inserted the key into the ignition and the car started to move. Looking back at the tiny village and the waving crowd, I felt my heart swell with emotions so complicated that I had no words to describe them. This was the place I’d spent the most exciting, memorable months of my life. The place where I fell in love with a man eight years my junior and where we made love on the singing golden sand, silently watched and approved by heaven above and earth below. The place where I had created a little home for myself, where I learned about Lop Nor, a good man to whom bad things happened, where I befriended Keku and Mito, now almost like a sister and a nephew. . . .
When the crowd was receding from my sight, suddenly I saw a small child push aside the others, run after the car, and cry hysterically.
I stuck my head out of the window, waving and screaming, “Mito! Mito!”
But the vehicle lunged forward like a leopard. Tears coursed down my cheeks as Mito, waving wildly, was lifted up by his father and everyone else vanished from sight like a mirage. . . .
I wiped my tears as a sigh escaped between my lips. A few years from now this would all seem but a distant dream. Even if I did have the chance to come back, would these people still be here? As a young man, would Mito still remember the Chinese woman who’d doted on him like his own mother when he was a small child? I turned my eyes forward as I hardened my spirit for the journey ahead.
Since by now I’d become used to being on my own, I’d developed swift hands and a quick mind. So in the space of six hours, I accomplished all—taking the train to Urumqi, the plane to Beijing, and a taxi to the city; checking into a one-hundred-
renminbi-
a-day hotel near Wangfu Jing, which was situated pretty much at the center of everything; and settling into my room.
Sitting on the bed, I pulled out my wad of bills from my purse and counted—fifteen thousand and fifty-five plus change. I was happily relieved that I still had so much left. Now I felt entitled to watch TV, eat all my favorite dishes in the hotel restaurant, and lie in bed for one, or even two, days before I made an appointment with the lawyer Lo.
I went to the bathroom for a shower, humming happily when the hot water kissed my bare skin. After that, I wrapped my body in a thick towel, sat down on the sofa, and turned on the TV—a luxury I had been deprived of since my arrival in China (the one with the snowing screen didn’t count). Although a syrupy, tear-jerking soap opera was on, I ignored my brain’s better judgment and left my eyes glued to the screen till its very end.
Afterward, I hated myself for having wasted time.
As I was feeling anxious and lonely, Alex’s image appeared in my mind. Would I see him again soon, or not for a very long time? I had no idea. It all depended on how long, or complicated, my meetings with the lawyer and my aunt would be. I put on my dress, then went down to reception and asked the girl at the counter to dial Alex’s apartment in New York.
After many tries, she told me that there was no answer.
Then I remembered another number Alex had given me and handed it to the girl. But I had no idea if it was Donna’s or Frank’s where each lived with their new spouse.
After ten minutes, the call finally went through and the receptionist handed me the receiver.
“Hello?”
It was a woman’s voice, but to my relief not Donna’s. After I told her who I was and that I wanted to talk to Alex, she spoke in accented English. “Miss Lin, Alex’s parents asked me if you call, tell you not to worry about their son. He will be fine.”
“What do you mean that he will be fine? Is he still sick or not?”
“I don’t know.”
“All right, thanks. May I know whom I’m talking to?”
“Maria, the housekeeper.”
I knew it was futile to ask, but I did anyway. “Maria, where am I calling now?”
“Mrs. Donna Adler’s apartment.”
“Thanks. Is she there? Can I talk to her?”
“No, she’s away.”
I knew she was told not to give me more information about Alex. “All right, thanks a lot, Maria. If you have a chance to see Alex, please tell him I called and that I’ll contact him again. Also, tell him not to worry about me, I’m fine.”
“I will.”
After I hung up, I was left feeling uneasy. Was Alex OK? Maria was so evasive that I actually had no idea about his status. Back in my room, I wrote a letter to Alex, then went back down to the lobby and dropped it into the mailbox. I was worried but could think of nothing more I could do to reach him. So I tried to focus entirely on completing my tasks and getting my three million dollars.
The next morning, feeling tired and empty inside, I went down to the hotel restaurant and devoured a big breakfast of congee, pickled vegetables, salted egg, peanuts, steamed pork buns, and hot tea. After that, I went back to my room, took up my journal, and wrote for a while, then worked on organizing the pictures taken during the trip. I caressed Alex’s face and hair on the glossy photos, feeling sad. Then I lay back on the bed and drifted in and out of sleep.
When I woke up, it was already six-thirty in the evening. I was hungry again, so I called room service and ordered drunken chicken, steamed fish with ginger and scallion, and Tsingtao beer. I couldn’t eat so much, but I wanted to feel abundant and spoiled, since now Alex was no longer there to spoil me.
After dinner, I started to imagine all the possible scenarios of my upcoming meeting with Lo and Mindy Madison. I’d come this far, but when I thought about it, the whole thing still seemed extremely strange. What if it was a scam—maybe my “aunt” didn’t even exist and I would never get my three million dollars.
Two days later in the afternoon, I was in the law firm sitting across from Mr. Lo, Mindy Madison’s lawyer, whom I’d met when I’d first arrived in Beijing six months ago. Like last time, Lo spoke the obligatory meaningless greetings in his cold, officious lawyerly tone. Then I gave him my journals documented with my routes, descriptions of my deeds, and pictures. After that, with no further ado, he plunged into business.
“Miss Lin, it’ll take me some time to read the accounts of your journey before I present them to Miss Madison. After all necessary verifications, we’ll proceed to the next step, and your meeting with her will be arranged accordingly. Please wait for my call at the hotel, and I will come pick you up and take you to see her.”
“Actually, I thought I’d be meeting her today.”
“I’ll let you know when it’s the appropriate time to see Miss Madison.” His tone was quite definite and his expression ominous.
What else could I do but agree?
Two days later, Mr. Lo called and told me that a meeting with Mindy Madison had been arranged for early afternoon. When I asked where, his answer was an annoying, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
To my surprise, the car took us outside Beijing city into an area I did not recognize. I wondered, was my aunt so rich that she lived in a villa in the suburbs? I tried to probe, but Lo stubbornly evaded my questions. Totally absorbed in reading my journal and stacks of other documents, he ignored my efforts to make conversation, polite or otherwise.
Almost two hours later, the car finally pulled to a stop in front of an immense, dilapidated gray building that did not at all resemble a luxury villa. We got out and I followed Lo for five minutes before we reached the building, in front of which, to my surprise, stood several scowling guards. We walked between two uniformed men holding submachine guns and found ourselves in a cavernous lobby. Here we were asked to show our identity documents. I noticed that when Lo handed over his identity card there was an envelope that disappeared quickly as the guard took his papers.
It was then that I realized what this place was.
A prison.
I turned to Lo, my voice shrill and frightened. “Why did you take me here?! I want to leave!”
He put his hand under my elbow and gave it a hard squeeze. “Calm down, Miss Lin, I’m taking you where you need to go.”
“What do I have to do with a prison?”
“This is where Miss Madison lives.”
“What?!”
The guard, tall with a pockmarked face, cast me a threatening look. “Lower your voice!”
The guard led us to a desk, where another guard asked us to write down our names, the name of the person we were there to see, and the time of visit. Judging from Lo’s ease in dealing with the guards, I figured he must be a frequent visitor. One who was generous with hundred-
renminbi
bills, cigarettes, liquor. Next, a third guard led us along to a dim, seemingly endless corridor lined with dingy cells inhabited by lifeless, ghostlike prisoners. A few went up to the bars to stare at us with dead fish eyes. What crimes had these people committed, I wondered as my wobbly feet followed Lo’s down this passage through hell.

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