Gugu popped out of the surgery, looking anxious.
What’s your blood type?
Type A.
How about her?
Who?
Who do you think? Gugu’s anger showed. Your wife.
Type O, I think.
Shit!
What’s happened?
Gugu’s smock was coated with blood, her face was ghostly white. My mind went blank
She went back inside and shut the door behind her. I tried looking through a crack in the doorway, but could see nothing. I didn’t hear Renmei’s voice, but I did hear Little Lion shouting into a telephone, ordering an ambulance from the county hospital.
I pushed open the door and immediately saw Renmei… saw Gugu with her sleeve rolled up and Little Lion drawing blood from her arm through a thick needle… Renmei’s face was the colour of paper… Renmei… hang in there… a nurse pushed me back out of the room. Let me in there, I said, goddamn it, I want to be in there. People in white smocks came running down the corridor… a middle-aged doctor who smelled like cigarette smoke and disinfectant sat me down on the bench and handed me a cigarette. He lit it for me. Don’t worry, he said, the county ambulance is on its way. Your aunt gave her 600 ccs of her own blood… everything’s going to be fine…
The ambulance shrieks bored into me like snakes. A man in a white smock with a medical kit. A bespectacled man in a white smock with a stethoscope around his neck. Men in white smocks. Women in white smocks. Men in white smocks carrying a collapsible gurney. Some went into the surgery, others stood in the corridor. Their actions were brisk, but their faces looked calm. No one paid me any attention, no one even looked my way. The sour taste of blood filled my mouth.
The people in white smocks emerged listlessly from the surgery and stepped back into the ambulance, one at a time. The gurney went in last.
I burst through the surgery door and saw Renmei, hidden from me by a white sheet. Covered with blood, Gugu slumped in a folding chair looking crestfallen. Little Lion and the others stood around like wooden statues. The silence in my ears was broken by what sounded like buzzing bees.
Gugu, I said, didn’t you say there’d be no problem?
She looked up, wrinkled her nose, her face ugly and frightening, and sneezed violently.
12
Sister-in-law, Elder Brother, Gugu said numbly in the yard, I’m here to apologise.
An urn with Wang Renmei’s ashes stood on a table in the centre of the main room. There was also a white bowl filled with wheat seeds to support three sticks of incense. Smoke curled towards the ceiling. In my uniform, with a black armband, I sat beside the table holding my daughter, who had on mourning garb and frequently looked up at me to ask a question.
What’s in the box, Papa?
I couldn’t say anything as tears wetted the stubble on my face.
How about my mother, Papa, where is she?
Your mother has gone to Beijing, I said. We’ll go see her in a few days.
Will Grandpa and Grandma go with us?
Yes, we’ll all go.
Father and Mother were out in the yard sawing a willow plank in half. The plank was tied at an angle to a bench. Father was standing, Mother was seated. Up and down, back and forth the saw went — shwa shwa — with sawdust floating in the sunlight.
I knew they were sawing the plank in half to make a coffin for Renmei. Even though cremation had supplanted burial in our area, the state had yet to set aside a place to store funerary containers, and so the locals chose to bury them under a grave mound. If a family could afford it, a coffin was made for the ashes, and the container smashed. Poor families simply buried the container.
I saw Gugu standing out there with her head down. I saw the grief on my parents’ faces and the mechanical repetition of their movements. I saw the commune Party secretary, who had come with Gugu, along with Little Lion and three commune cadres. They had brought fancy boxes of pastries and sweets, which they placed alongside the well opening. Beside the boxes was a damp cattail bag that gave off a strong odour. I knew the bag contained salted fish.
No one could have anticipated such a turn of events, the Party secretary was saying. Experts from the county hospital have determined that Chairwoman Wan followed all the appropriate protocols to the letter, and lifesaving attempts were carried out properly. Dr Wan even gave the patient 600 ccs of her own blood. We are deeply saddened and wish that more could have been done.
Are you blind? Father scolded Mother angrily. Can’t you see that black line? The saw is a half inch off, and you should have seen that. Can’t you do anything right?
Mother got to her feet, began to wail, and went inside.
Father threw down the saw and, with a bent back, walked to the water vat. He picked up the gourd ladle, tipped his head back, and drank, some of the water spilling down his chin to his chest, where it merged with the sawdust. He returned to the plank, picked up the saw, and recommenced sawing with a vengeance.
The Party secretary and cadres went into the house, where they bowed three times to Renmei’s ashes. One of the cadres placed a manila envelope on the stove counter.
Comrade Wan Zu, the Party secretary said, we know that no amount of money can make up for the terrible loss this unfortunate incident has caused you and your family, and this five thousand yuan is merely a token of our respect.
Someone — apparently a clerk — said, Three thousand of this is public money. The additional two thousand was donated by Secretary Wu and several leading cadres.
Take it with you, I said. Please take it back. We don’t need it.
I understand how you feel, the secretary said sadly, it won’t bring her back, but the living have to continue on the revolutionary path. Chairwoman Yang telephoned from Beijing to express her sadness over Comrade Wang’s death, to pass on her condolences to the bereaved family, and to inform you that your leave has been extended two weeks to give you time to take care of the funeral and matters at home before reporting back to work.
Thank you, I said. You may leave now.
The Party secretary and his retinue bowed once more to the funerary container and then walked out, still bent at the waist.
I gazed at their legs and at their backsides, some fleshy, some bony, and my tears flowed again.
A woman’s wails and a man’s profanities emerged from the lane, and I knew that my in-laws were coming.
My father-in-law was carrying a pitchfork. You bastards, he cursed, give me back my daughter!
My mother-in-law was making all sorts of wild gestures and bouncing on her bound feet, looking as if she was about to pounce on my aunt. But she fell before she could get there. She sat there beating the ground with both hands and howling. My poor daughter, why have you left us like that… how are we going to live without you…
The Party secretary stepped forward. We were on our way to your house, he said to my in-laws. What a tragic affair. This has saddened us deeply.
My father-in-law pounded the ground with his pitchfork handle. Come out here, Wan Xiaopao, you son of a bitch, he growled.
I walked up to him with my daughter, whose arms were wrapped around my neck, her face tucked up against my cheek.
Father, I said when I was right in front of him, you can take it out on me.
He raised his pitchfork, but his hands froze above his head. Teardrops dotted the grey stubble on his chin. His legs crumpled and suddenly he was kneeling.
But she was alive… He tossed the pitchfork aside and wept openly. As he knelt in the dirt, he said, She was so alive, but you people had to go and kill her… you evil people, aren’t you afraid of heavenly retribution?