Last Kiss in Tiananmen Square (36 page)

Concerning Mingming, the issue is much more complicated than you can imagine. Societal pressures are too great. She could suddenly become the center of attention at school, be trashed as an evil, illegitimate child.

I think maybe we should meet sometime and talk. How about next Thursday, five O'clock at the Lidou Subway Station? You can write me to say whether that suits you or not.

Fondly, Weiming

I picked him out easily from the crowd around the subway station. His face had not changed much, high cheekbones, long straight nose and sharp eyes. His unusual curly hair made him stand out among Chinese. Age had turned him from a pale young man into a stout man with a slightly bulging belly and weathered skin. I ran toward him. When I had nearly reached him, I stopped, and said, "Uncle?" He was smiling at me, his swarthy face glowing in the dusk. I did not want to shake hands, the gesture seemed awkward to me. A hug was even more out of the question.

Finally I uttered, "It's nice...nice to see you." I cast down my eyes shyly.

"It's nice to see you! Just like your mother, what a big girl!" He came forward and shook hands with me. "Oh!" I nearly cried out. His big hands almost crushed my fingers. Then he threw his arm around my shoulders. We walked into the subway.

"How are you?" Turned, he looked into my eyes, and sounded so sweet.

"I'm Ok."

"How is your mother?"

"As usual."

"What's new with your father, your brother and sister?"

"As usual."

"How is the family situation in general?"

"As usual."

"What is it about all these 'as usual's?"

"Don't you remember? Don't you remember anything about them? Don't you remember how horrible it is? You walked away scot-free. You walked away!" I snapped at him. Before he could react, I bolted toward the train. He followed me. We sat next to each other on a bench as the train rattled down the track. He was quietly looking at the window on the opposite side. In the reflection I could see his solemn face. No longer able to hold them back, my tears streamed down.

Uncle passed me a handkerchief. "I know life has not been easy for you. But I want you to know how lucky you are. You are in college. You should appreciate what you've got." He paused, embracing my shoulders with his arm. "I used to dream of going to college. But I never got the chance to."

Uncle's father was a banker before the Communists took over. He was in high school when the Cultural Revolution came along. After wandering for a few years without a job or home, he was assigned to work in "Beijing Automobile Parts factory", which was a good luck compared with thousands of high school graduates who were forced to spend their lives working in the countryside.

He sighed and continued. "Now it's too late for me to go to college. I'm old and have forgotten most of the things I learned in school." He gazed out the subway window. His tone implied some kind of grief and repentance that I had never heard from him before. In my memories, he had always been a young and happy person.

By the time we left the subway station, it was already dark downtown. In the lighted streets, people rushed back and forth, bicycle bells ringing around us, stores closing.

Uncle walked me to the bus stop. As we were waiting, the question finally burst out. "Are you going to take Mingming away?"

A gust of wind blew my question past his ears. He did not respond.

"I know I shouldn't get into this. Please take her away, please!" I snatched his coat, pulling and shaking violently. "She's twelve years old and has already got into drinking and smoking." I cried.

"Meihua, your bus is here." He pushed me through the door. "Goodbye, college student! Write to me!"

The bus lunged. I did not answer him and cried all the way home.

I went back to school after winter vacation was over. My college life had been very quiet. Nothing went on except for studying. Students had become very diligent after ten years wasted during the "Cultural Revolution". We did not have a choice anyway. No dates or parties were permitted on campus except for special occasions. We had to be in our dormitories before eleven O'clock at night. Therefore, I had plenty of time to satisfy Uncle's expectations --- studying hard. But things did not progress wholly that way. It was impossible to keep my mind working on physics and mathematics 12 hours a day. Although I made myself sit in the library after classes, my mind was often miles away, fantasizing romantic relationships.

I kept writing to Uncle from time to time. His answers were usually short and matter of fact, mostly about his work and his new job in the purchasing department. He rarely mentioned his family. I was not eager to see him again. He had acquired a different image after I had met him. It was hard connecting the Uncle of reality with the Uncle of my memories. First of all, he seemed not as handsome as earlier. After many years of cultivation, he had changed into an ordinary workingman from a rich playboy. Somehow, I had felt responsible for finding Mingming's real father, although his disinterest toward her had surprised me. In the back of my mind, I probably needed him too. But I had not figured out how. I did not confide in mother until I received a letter from Uncle one day.

It was Sunday afternoon. After taking the mail out the mailbox, I found Uncle's letter and tore it open.

Dear Meihua,

I have not heard from you in a while. My new job in the purchasing department is very challenging. I realize how much I have to learn. Last Sunday, I visited the area where your family lived. I rode my bicycle down the street, hoping to encounter you. But I was disappointed. Then I went to the apartment building. I saw your shadow, outlined on the curtain. I tried to imagine you laughing, joking. I stood there for two hours until my hands were frozen, my legs numb......

Fondly, Weiming

The letter made me realize that he was still the old romantic of eight years ago. Since I was so lonely and unhappy, I thought he was the one who truly liked me and needed me. I folded his letter, went to the bathroom, and read it over and over, until mother knocked on the door, to see whether I was all right. I came out, red-eyed and face full of tears.

"What happened?" Mother asked. "Are you all right?" Then she spotted the letter in my hand and snatched it away. After reading the letter, mother sighed and took me into her bedroom. "What's all these about?"

"I went to see Uncle Weiming, and then..." I told mother the whole story.

"Jesus, why do you do that for? He is history. He is gone!"

"Mother, I'm sorry."

"No, I just don't want you to make the same mistake your mother have made. He is very good at flattering girls. If you believe it, you are in trouble." Taking a deep drag of the cigarette, mother sank into deep thought. The cigarette almost burned to the end. Ashes fell on the floor.

"He was always interested in you, you know? He didn't want to be stuck with an old married lady like me. But you were still too young." She blew out smoke slowly, as though she wanted to breath out a painful memory. Then she stubbed the cigarette butt into the ashtray, twisting it hard as if to kill it.

"Stop writing to him! Stop the whole thing! Ok? I beg you. I beg youuuuu..." She grabbed my hands, bursting into tears.

"Look at your mother. Look at your mother. Am I beautiful? Am I smart? Yes. But I was much prettier, and I was smart. Please don't waste your time on someone like him. You have much more important things to do. Study, study hard!"

"Dammit! What are you guys yelling about?" Father sauntered over and pounded his fists on mother's half opened bedroom door.

"We're not talking about you."

"Then don't screaming and shouting. You're going to wake up the whole neighborhood! You don't care about your face. I do." He turned and added, "I know you guys are always plotting about murdering me. Hey, I'm going to live longer than any of you!" He wobbled away.

Mother had never revealed to me that Uncle actually had been interested in me many years ago. I was shocked. I also felt sorry for myself. If only I had known, if only I had known...... It was too late now. He was married. But still he could be my friend, maybe boyfriend. Why not, mother had done it. Having a boyfriend might solve my problems. Lately I often dreamed to be hugged and kissed by someone. I longed for someone who would care about me and listen to my complaints. But I did not like those young men in college. They might be good looking and good students. But they were too simple minded. Could they understand I had acted like a mother for my brother and sister when I was fifteen? Could they understand my mother's boyfriend and my father had lived under the same roof for many years? I was not normal. It was not easy to find someone to understand me.

Without telling mother, I had accepted an invitation from Uncle to visit his home.

On Saturday morning, I took the bus according to the directions he gave me in his letter.

It was a newly developed area. Several grey concrete apartment buildings lined the road. Others were under construction, and their naked skeletons and innards were exposed, bare and ugly.

I walked into a side street, which was the only old-fashioned alley left in the area. The third door on the left was Uncle's. I went though the squeaky wooden gate between two stone-lion sentinels. It was a traditional Chinese house, with a square "four-corner" courtyard in the middle and rooms surrounding it on all sides. An old gray-haired man with darting eyes brushed his teeth in front of the shared outdoor sink. He smiled at me while letting the toothpaste drip from his mouth. I gave him a smirk.

I knocked at the door I thought was Uncle's. A middle-aged lady appeared.

"I am Meihua. I have come to visit Uncle Weiming."

"I am Wuhua, Weiming's wife." She took my hands, "Come on in." I followed her.

"It's nice to see you. I remember you when you were a little girl." Wuhua glanced at me, and smiled.

Good! I thought. She did not mention my mother.

Their daughter Qinmei was just getting up. Uncle was braiding her pigtail, which reminded me of the past.

"Could you fix your own pigtails now? Oh!" Uncle looked at my freshly trimmed short haircut, shook his head. "Do you still remember what I told you? Girls should have pigtails, boys have short hair."

I smiled quietly. Wuhua handed me a basket full of delicious "Big Rabbit" candies from Shanghai. After dressing Qinmei, we left for the subway station. We were going to take a ride around the new subway system.

Uncle's wife, Wuhua, was a typical workingwoman. She had short straight hair and dark skin. She wore an old semi-transparent polyester blouse, a pair of faded pants, and a pair of not-so-clean, soft walking shoes. Uncle carried Qinmei on his shoulders. She spun her head.

"See, Mommy, I am taller than you are!" She shouted proudly.

Wuhua and I followed quietly. I stared at the ground, counting my steps. I did not know what to say to her. She also worked in the same factory and knew a lot about mother and Uncle. To my surprise, she was very nice to me. I asked myself, "O.K., what am I doing here?" Uncle had finally given up his crazy oath to "never marry in his life". He had found a wife, had a daughter, and lived like everyone else. Why should I not leave him alone?

A gust of cool air swept my face as we walked down the stairs in the subway station. The guards, wearing winter down-coats in the late spring, with their hands in the coat pockets, walked back and forth. Their faces were shadowed, backs slightly hunched.

"Dad, tell me a story." Qinmei whispered into his ear, while we all sat together in the train.

"Which story do you want to hear?"

"I want to know what happened after the 'little cloth boy' got lost from Linlin's pocket." She stared at Uncle with two wistful eyes.

"Ok. After the 'little cloth boy' slipped out of Linlin's pocket during her primary school graduation party..."

While Uncle was talking, the window on the other side of the train turned into a mirror against the dark. The mirror reflected Uncle with his child, and his wife watching them.

Then the scene changed to one that had happened fifteen years earlier when I was seven years old. Sitting on Uncle's lap, I listened to him tell the same story. Mother sat next to us, holding a cigarette. The clanging of drums outside the window during those noisy "Cultural Revolution" demonstrations still rang in my ears.

Gradually, the scene shifted to my home when I was fourteen. Mother and I sat around the pot-bellied coal stove, listening to Uncle narrating a banned story about Mrs. Mao's illegal activities right before the fall of the "Gang of Four".

Then the scene switched to another that had occurred in the same room.

After staring at me for quite a while, Uncle said, "Meihua, do you know you have a pair of very beautiful eyes?"

"Thank you, Uncle." I put down my head and nodded shyly. Mother sat next to me, smiling. "Just like mother's." I added. I honestly thought mother was prettier than me.