Off to America
Weiwei was married. She took all her clothing away with her, leaving the dresser half empty, and also the chest. Twenty-three years Wang Qiyao had spent raising Weiwei, and now her daughter was gone — and all she had left was her gray hair. Her skin and figure still looked young; it was only recently that she had begun to dye her hair. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she had an adult daughter, no one would have guessed her age. She also used her daughter to remind herself about her own age, or else she would have never believed how old she was either. Dyed hair is even darker and shinier than natural hair, so it made her look even younger. Wang Qiyao gazed at herself in the mirror, a bit disoriented, wondering just what era she was living in.
Once Weiwei was gone, there were days when Wang Qiyao ate only a single meal. Sometimes she would go to sleep in the afternoon and not wake up until the same time the following day, when she would finally get up at one or two o’clock in the afternoon. The sun would be exactly where she had left it the previous day. But all this changed on Sunday, because that was when Weiwei and Xiao Lin came to visit. They would arrive in the morning and leave after dinner — it was only then that Wang Qiyao’s life regained a semblance of normalcy. But the very next day everything would start to slip away again; the power of her daily routine was obviously far from enough. But at least she had Sundays to add some rhythm to her disorganized days; otherwise her entire life would have dissolved into chaos.
Now that they were married, Weiwei and Xiao Lin became guests. Wang Qiyao would ply them with food and liquor, making full-course dinners; when the evening was done, they would go home, leaving her with a pile of dirty plates and bowls. As she stood by the sink washing the dishes, she would heave a sigh of relief that the day was finally over. Once she was finished straightening up, she would turn on the television, take out a pack of cigarettes from the drawer, and light up. Sitting down, her elbow leaning on the table, she inhaled, slowly and deeply. The smoke clouded her vision, and her heart was clouded too. One cigarette was enough. After putting the pack of cigarettes away, she needed to sit for a while longer, listening to all the sounds of the changing seasons coming from outside. The sounds crept in from between the cracks in the concrete, and one had to be extremely quiet to hear them. They were but whispers of sounds, enmeshed in smoke and mist. Who understood time better than Wang Qiyao? She may have passed her days in a muddled haze, but that was only because she wanted to. When the window curtains moved gently, you might say that what you saw was the wind, but what Wang Qiyao saw was time. When small holes appeared in the wooden floor and staircase, you might say that what you saw was the work of termites, but what Wang Qiyao saw was time. Sunday nights, Wang Qiyao was never in a hurry to get to bed. It wasn’t that she wanted to hold vigil over the lonely night: she was floating on time.
There was no reason to keep track of the days. The winter clothes came off and then out came the spring clothes, which before long began to feel heavy. Xiao Lin got his visa and would be leaving for America in August, just in time for the fall semester. In the days leading up to his departure, their schedule was quite erratic. For a while Xiao Lin and Weiwei ceased their Sunday visits, and then there was a period during which they came over almost every day. The reason they visited so often was to get Wang Qiyao’s advice about what Xiao Lin should take for the trip. The impression they had of America was that it was one big nonstop party; how could he not bring along a few nice outfits? At the mention of clothing, Wang Qiyao would spring to life. She took Xiao Lin to Baromon to have a suit made, giving him tips about the proper way to wear a suit along the way. Wang Qiyao grew animated when she talked about clothing. What are clothes? she would say. Clothing is like a diploma, providing conclusive proof as to what is inside so that it won’t get buried. Xiao Lin found her ideas about clothing interesting and amusing.
“Don’t laugh,” Wang Qiyao warned him. “I’m not exaggerating one bit. At the very least, for a woman, clothing is her diploma — and it’s a much more important diploma than any earned in school!”
Xiao Lin laughed and turned to Weiwei. “Do you have a diploma?”
Wang Qiyao made a wry face. “Weiwei’s diploma is the kind anyone can get from a few years in school. What I’m talking about is something you have to work on all your life. Don’t bother asking Weiwei about that — she’s too spoiled to understand. Go ask Zhang Yonghong.”
“Zhang Yonghong may have a ‘diploma,’” replied Weiwei. “But even now she still can’t find a ‘job’!”
Those were harsh words, the kind spoken only by one who is blinded by her own happiness. Even someone as resilient as Wang Qiyao felt the sting.
“You don’t need to worry about Zhang Yonghong,” she retorted just as they were arriving at Baromon. “She’s stronger than you!”
They started by looking at fabrics and then moved on to pick out a style. Another clash seemed inevitable. Weiwei was leaning toward the double-breasted jacket with wide lapels that was the latest thing. Wang Qiyao, on the other hand, insisted that he go with a more traditional style, which she felt would be more appropriate. If he went with the more conventional suit she suggested, he would be able to wear it on virtually any occasion, whereas the more modish style was only good for the moment and would quickly go out of fashion; moreover, just because it was popular in Shanghai didn’t mean it was popular in America. Although Weiwei didn’t have a convincing argument, she still stubbornly insisted on her choice. With her natural aversion to anything old-fashioned, she was always drawn to the newest and latest fashion; also, because she lacked vision and couldn’t see what was coming in the future, all she knew was to follow the current trend and so she always looked at things out of context. Weiwei grew quarrelsome and was on the verge of yelling at her mother.
“Let Xiao Lin decide for himself!” Wang Qiyao had no choice but to declare.
Xiao Lin followed Wang Qiyao’s advice.
Weiwei was so angry that she turned and headed for the door. Xiao Lin chased after her, leaving Wang Qiyao alone. It was awkward for her to stay in the store, but equally embarrassing to follow them outside, so she stood there for a while before deciding simply to go home. She got on a public bus, thinking how pathetic it was that the three of them had gone out together and now she was going home alone. The bustling excitement on Nanjing Road seemed to be mocking her. It was almost noon by the time she finally arrived home. The other two didn’t return until much later that afternoon. They pranced in, giggling and carrying a bunch of shopping bags, all the unhappiness of the morning long forgotten. Wang Qiyao didn’t even bother asking about what had transpired with the suit. She pretended not to care, although she did notice Xiao Lin wink at her when Weiwei wasn’t looking — that was his way of trying to smooth things over. Wang Qiyao felt misunderstood. Why should I care about what kind of suit you get anyway? she thought.
For Xiao Lin’s upcoming trip, nothing but the best would do, as if anything less would be an embarrassment to the Americans. He didn’t take any of his old clothing; everything he packed was brand-new. He cared for quantity as much as quality, buying everything by the dozen, as if he were preparing for a long career in the remote countryside, where nothing could be purchased, rather than going to study abroad. However, it was indeed a rare opportunity to go to America. Everyone thought it must be a wonderful place, although no one really knew what made it so wonderful. All Xiao Lin could do was prepare as best he could. It was a bit like preparing a trousseau — something tangible you could do against a bewildering future; whether or not it would ever come in useful was another matter altogether. As those two humongous suitcases gradually filled up, Xiao Lin began to feel more at ease.