Nan tried to appear natural but felt his jaw go stiff whenever he attempted to smile. He kept lifting the tall teacup to his mouth so that he didn't have to face her all the while. He didn't talk about himself and just listened to her. She said she envied him because he had gotten a green card without spending a fortune on an immigration lawyer. If only she and her husband had come to the States before the Tiananmen massacre. That way they too could have been granted permanent residency automatically. Nowadays it was so hard to get the papers that she wasn't even sure if their lawyer could really help them.
Then she offered to take Nan to McDonald's, where they could talk over lunch, but he declined, saying he ate restaurant food every day and the cup of oolong tea she'd made for him was good enough. Also, he'd have to hit the road soon. "Do you like it here?" he asked, hoping she'd say something negative.
"I don't know-I guess I do. Hongbin, my husband, is studying toward his degree, so I have to work to support my family."
"What's he studying?"
"Public health."
"Related to Japan?"
"No, he has almost forgotten his Japanese, which he doesn't use here."
"I see. Does he help you in this studio?"
"No. I do acupuncture by myself, just to make a couple of dollars. I spent a whole year learning how to do it before we came to America, so I passed the exam and got the license here. How about you? I heard you owned several restaurants."
"We have only one, very small, and I don't like running it. I've been writing."
"Nan, I can see you haven't changed much, still a dreamer. Your heart is still young." She smiled and shook her head as if in disapproval.
"I guess so. Besides dreams, what else can I have?" He said that as if to himself, realizing he could no longer share his thoughts with this woman for whom he had almost lost his mind sixteen years ago.
She lifted her teacup and took a sip, then went on telling him more about her life in this town. "Hongbin and I won't mind settling down here. The town has good public schools, well above the average in the state. On top of that, real estate is cheap here. For a hundred and fifty thousand dollars you can buy a big house, even with a pool in the backyard. You saw my mother-in-law just now. She's all right and takes good care of my kids, especially the younger one, just two years old. Did you see my son Michael, the younger boy?"
"No."
"He's absolutely adorable. The problem with my mother-in-law is that she's too stingy and always translates dollars into yuan when she spends money. She can never get accustomed to American life. But she loves my kids and I appreciate that. My kids are the center of my life. Now I know what parental love is like and why Confucius taught people to be filial to their parents. I would do anything for my kids, even die for them. See, I'm a dutiful wife."
"Also a good mother."
"You're right."
"Still, you must rule the roost at home." He managed a smile as a twinge tugged his insides. He raked his fingers through his thick hair.
"Tell me, why did you come to see me?" She curled her lips, her round cheeks coloring a little.
"To see if you're like the Beina I often dreamed of."
"Well, you came too late, to be honest. Eleven years ago I asked you to help me come to the United States, but stupid you, you didn't seize the opportunity. I had no children then and I was thinking of leaving Hongbin. "
"You mean, you might have come to join me here?"
" Well, that was a possibility. I always had a soft spot in my heart for you because you hurt me." "I hurt you?"
" Yes. You gave up on me too easily, as if I was not a woman worth your effort to compete with Hongbin. Worst of all, you burned all the poems you'd written for me. That's like you gave me a gift and then took it back. You humiliated me, you know."
"Wait a minute. I was a poor man you despised, and I couldn't buy you anything like the red scooter Hongbin got for you from Japan. "
"But later you came to America. Couldn't you promise me a red car? Even just lie to me?" She forced a titter in an attempt at levity, her thumb rubbing her ring finger.
" I see. I became a man of means to you, but what made you think I'd be willing to buy you a car?"
"Because you loved me."
"So you believed I would abandon my wife and child for you?"
"Wouldn't you? Didn't you come all the way just to see me? I bet your wife has no idea where you are." Her eyes flashed, and for the first time since he came a familiar vixenish look crept on her face. Then she lifted her chin with annoyance, apparently aware of Nan 's eyes riveted on the pocket of flesh hanging under it.
He said in a half-flippant voice, "Don't assume I'll come and slobber over you whenever you whistle from far away. I'm too old to be a slave of love anymore. Besides, how can you be sure I'm still smitten with you after so many years?"
"I'm your first."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"For a man like you, the first love is always the flame consuming your heart. You cannot stop your torch song."
"You've underestimated me. I know what true love is like now. You've never loved any man devotedly, whereas my wife loves me and is always ready to suffer with me."
"Still, you don't love her, do you? I'm pretty sure you'll come to see me again. But don't take this as an invitation."
" Well, you think you still have your hooks in me?"
"Try to get them out."
"We'll see." He chortled but couldn't laugh it off. His chest tightened.
Deep down, he knew this trip was a mistake-all the years' longing and anguish had been caused by a mere illusion, and all his pain and sighs had been groundless, wasted for the wrong person. What an idiot he had been!
But this disillusionment was perhaps necessary for him to sober up and begin to heal. Indeed, he didn't feel the old numbing pain anymore despite sitting so close to Beina. Something tickled his throat and made him want to laugh, but he checked himself lest he go into hysterics. He felt as if there were a wall between her and him. Probably she had already set up such a barrier in her mind before he came, or such a wall might be just another ploy of hers. Even without her doing that, he could no longer imagine getting closer to her.
A few minutes later he took his leave. A wind swept through the empty street and tossed up a tuft of his hair from behind. He stepped into his car and pulled away. Beina hadn't asked for his phone number or address but had given him her business card, on which a pair of cranes was flying to the realm of longevity. In his heart he knew he wouldn't contact her again. Coasting along the on-ramp to I-74, he rolled down the car window and flung out her card, where it blew into the wild grass.
18
NAN had been ill for several days, though he went to work as usual. The trip to Iowa had plunged him into a depression, also a bone-deep exhaustion. In a way he hated Beina, who had changed so much, or was so different from whom he'd imagined, that she had shattered his vision of her. He felt sick at heart, but he began to be extraordinarily considerate to his wife. Pingping was alarmed by his sudden change and urged him to get some medical attention-at least go see an herbalist, who wouldn't charge a lot. She feared he might be having an early midlife crisis, a sort of male menopause. But he replied, "I have a heart problem no cardiologist can diagnose and no drug can cure. "
Despite his despondency, he resumed working on his poetry, with greater effort. He mailed out another batch of poems to a small journal called Yellow Leaves, which he had noticed published some Asian American authors. He had no hope of acceptance and just submitted his work routinely. He called Dick and told him that he wouldn't be coming to study with him because he preferred to stay with his family. Dick said this would be a huge loss to Nan, who was already forty-one, and that it would be too late to develop his talent if he didn't concentrate or make the necessary sacrifice soon. Nan thanked him, but was adamant about his decision. He knew that from this point on he'd have to be on his own, and that probably Dick and he would drift apart in the future, since as a famous poet Dick always had a crowd around him. In other words, Nan would have to accept isolation as his condition and write for no audience, speaking to emptiness.