After four turns Nan swerved into the factory's front yard. He sprang out of his car while the pickup was rolling into the parking lot too. He dashed away to the side entrance of the building. His flashlight fell on the ground with a clash, but he didn't stop to retrieve it and kept running. He thrust the key into the lock and opened the door. Rushing in, he snagged his windbreaker's pocket on the handle with a rasp. Without looking at the rip, he locked the door, switched off the lights, and turned left into the dark storage room with windows facing the yard. He saw the couple out there. They seemed puzzled. Their truck was idling, but its front lights were off. They each carried a baseball bat under an arm and eyed the side entrance as if on the defensive. They whispered to each other for a while; then the man crushed his beer can on the side window of Nan 's car. He picked up Nan 's long flashlight and waved it at the building.
The woman cupped her mouth with both hands and shouted at the entrance, "Come out, you dumb prick!"
"We're gonna come in and bust ya!" the man cried, and he kicked the side door of Nan 's car. He spat and blew his nose on the windshield.
Blood thudded in Nan 's ears as he kept his eyes glued to the couple. He withdrew his face from the dusty windowpanes so that they couldn't see him. His mind was in a tumult of anger and fear, which made him queasy and out of breath. Stop kicking my car, you idiot! he shouted mentally. Heavens, what do they want of me? I'm not a sex maniac like they think. Go away! Go fuck yourselves!
But they wouldn't leave. They whispered to each other again and were evidently planning their next move. What should he do if they broke into the building? He wouldn't let them. He'd do anything to stop them. He'd hide in the darkness and knock them down with a steel bar. Yes, he'd lick them if they came in. Go, go, go! But they wouldn't move. Why were they so determined to hurt him? Just because they could? Just because his face was yellow, not as white as theirs? How come they thought he'd like to take part in their monkey business? Crazy! Stupid! They were barking up the wrong tree. Even if they paid him a thousand dollars, he wouldn't join them. Neither would he let them set foot in here. They'd better not mess with him.
They looked quite patient over there, waiting and gazing at the factory. How could he get rid of them? Were they planning to break in?
Finally, Nan pushed open the one-paned transom and cried, "Eef you don't leave, I shall call zer police."
"Oh yeah?" the man barked. "Bring all the cops over and line them up to suck my cock." They both guffawed.
Nan shouted again, "I have a gahn here. I'm shooting if you don't leave right away." With a steel bar he knocked a metal bench, which sent out a dull clang.
That transfixed the couple for a few seconds. Then they scrambled back into the pickup and thunked the doors shut. The front lights came on; the man revved the engine, and after a long honk, the truck swerved onto the road and sped away. Its broad wheels squealed and crushed through dark puddles of rainwater.
Nan heaved a sigh of relief, wondering if they were high on drugs besides alcohol. How frightened he was! Had they grabbed hold of him, they might have dragged him to a secret place and hurt him. He suspected they must have intended to take him either to an orgy or a studio to make a pornographic film. He regretted having gone out at night and having smiled at that crazy woman.
The watchman's clock was still in his car, but for a long while he dared not go fetch it. Not until almost eleven p.m. did he retrieve it. Luckily, the side door of his car wasn't damaged much-just a few dings-but his flashlight was gone.
His fellow worker, Larry, had a pistol like a toy derringer, and now Nan couldn't help wondering if he should get a handgun or a knife. But he remembered his vow to Pingping that, besides shunning politics, he'd never resort to any kind of violence in his life, so he decided not to carry any weapon.
When he told his wife about the incident the next day, she was terrified, though she tried to loosen him up a little, teasing him, "It serves you right. Don't ever eye up a woman again."
"I didn't flirt with her, I just smiled. They must have been stoned."
"They must have smelled something on you."
"What?"
"You're a born lech." "That's not true."
"Of course you are." She giggled and went on sewing up the tear in his windbreaker.
From that day on Nan wouldn't go out on the night shift anymore. He'd bring along an electric pot so that he could cook instant noodles or soup in the lab, but most times Pingping prepared food for him. She'd pack a banana or apple or orange. She made him promise he'd never sneak out of the factory again.
8
THE MASEFIELDS had been back from Cape Cod for three weeks. Heidi's children, Nathan and Livia, ages eleven and eight, had been pleased to see Taotao, especially Livia, who adopted a protective attitude toward the younger boy. The girl, who had a wide forehead and large deep-set eyes, was short and scrawny for her age. She had many friends in the neighborhood and often invited them over, but Taotao wouldn't join them. Neither would he play with Nathan. Most of the time he stayed upstairs in the attic. Whenever Livia found him in the kitchen with his mother, she'd teach him a few English words. "Say 'Thank you, please' when you want something," she told him; or "Say 'Can I have this, please?' " And Taotao would repeat after her. Sometimes she'd hold out her hands with the short fingers raised and ask him, "How many is this?" The boy always answered correctly in English. In every way she treated him like a friend. She seemed eager to please Taotao, who was still timid and quiet. She often said to Pingping and Heidi, "He's really smart. Why's he so shy?"
The Wus ate their own meals separately. They'd enter the large kitchen only after the Masefields were finished with dinner. This meant Pingping had to cook two meals in the afternoons. Unlike his parents, Taotao was fond of American food, which made his mother's cooking easier. Following him, his parents had begun to eat what they wouldn't touch before-pizza, cheese, spaghetti, macaroni, hot dogs. Cheese tasted like soap to Nan at first, but now he chewed it with relish and could tell if the flavor was sharp. Still, he found that milk would upset his stomach, so his wife gave him ice cream instead.
In the evenings Pingping spent most of the time reading aloud to
Taotao. She also taught him arithmetic, which was easier for him since she explained everything in Chinese. She had been a math teacher at a vocational school back in China, but she had hated teaching, a profession assigned to her by the state. Now she was happy to teach her son with the thick textbooks Nan had bought at a secondhand bookstore in Sudbury, a nearby town. She found that American math books were much better written than the Chinese textbooks, more detailed, more comprehensive, and more suitable for students to teach themselves math. Each book was chock-full of information, at least ten times more than a Chinese schoolbook contained.
With his mother's help at home, Taotao did decently at school, though he was still in the lowest reading group. Nan had gone to see his son at school a few times and noticed that a freckle-faced girl named Loreen often read to Taotao. He was moved by the sight in which the girl put her finger on a drawing, saying, "This is a jumbo jet heading for Miami," while his son listened attentively. Nan knew that the girl's father played basketball for the Celtics, and he had once seen him with Loreen sitting on his knee at a PTA meeting. The man was a giant, but somehow his daughter was weedy and frail. Taotao told his parents that Loreen was good to him and even gave him her milk at lunch. Yet not all the students were kind to him, and a few called him Conehead.