Peter Liu - Bald New World

If I were to die, was there anyone I would contact, anyone I would have anything left to say to? It relieved me to know the answer was a no . Even with Linda, nothing had gone unspoken. We’d said too much to each other, which had always been the problem. We analyzed everything to death, every stupid word.

It was too bad I didn’t have a child. There were so many things I could have taught him, like how everything everyone tells you growing up is bullshit. Don’t believe anyone except your own experiences. I could tell him about how insane my biological family was, how cruel and selfish they were and how even after all they did, they still couldn’t let go, only thinking about themselves. He wouldn’t have to have a chip on his shoulder about family the way I did, ashamed of the way I was, eager to please, afraid of censure. He’d be more confident, do things with ease that I struggled to achieve. He would know how to treat family with respect and thoughtfulness, the little things I never knew when I married Linda because no one ever treated me with kindness and respect. Instead, I grew up learning family was a terrible thing, wanting never to go home, wishing they would all disappear so I could have my freedom. I even resented elderly people in my youth because they rebuked me for my terrible family, telling me to stay away from their children (my “friends”) as I was from a bad family. When I first met Linda’s family, I was so taken aback by their kindness, I got suspicious. Why were they being so good to me? They were much wealthier than I was and there was nothing I could give them. Had they mistaken me for someone else? Were they secretly going to get rid of me while smiling in my face? Linda laughed at my wariness and assured me, “This is what family is.”

No yelling, no beating me when I didn’t want to do something, no castigations saying I deserved death for not listening. Instead, an inexplicable kindness and thoughtfulness, calls asking after my health. I’d endured a poverty-stricken childhood and thought I could bear anything. But I wasn’t prepared for this sort of kindness. I felt undeserving, unworthy. Was that the beginning of the end of our marriage?

My unborn child, you’ll never have to worry about my illogical fear of death. You’ll never have to grow up being told every day that if you didn’t please your biological father, you would be beaten to pulp and die a dog’s death. You’ll never have to have a dumbly narcissistic mother who only chased after other men and didn’t care what happened to you as long as she was happy. You won’t have to have a brain-damaged sister who took pride in lacking common sense and never listened to the fact that I wanted nothing to do with my biological family and insisted on bringing them back into my life even though I asked her a thousand times not to do so. You won’t have to rely on fake friends you thought were family because your definition of family was so pathetic and then get disappointed when they left you over nothing and then came crawling back when they found out you were famous. You would think me pathetic for the way I sought so eagerly to call people who didn’t have the faintest idea about relationships family. It’s all right though. I won’t hide my foibles. You should know the truth about your father .

Linda broke my heart, but she also liberated me in ways you couldn’t imagine. She’s my only family. Larry was family too, but he’s dead now . In the end, I failed him just like I failed Linda. I let him go alone when every instinct in me told me not to let him go by himself.

I deserve everything I’m going to get for the next few days .

III.

“Have you no shame?” Mardi asked as the light caused my eyes to cringe. I hadn’t slept, but I hadn’t been awake either. “Get a hose in here.”

Two men entered with a hose and fired water at me. The spray hit me like a kick to the chest and they wiped the feces away with the water blasts. I stuck my tongue out, trying to get a lick. The water was sweet and tasted better than any nectar.

“This is a special town,” Mardi told me. “Divinely inspired 30 years ago to be a bulwark against the madness of this world. Yillah was our prophetess, the great messenger who brought us hope by creating a village here to be protected from the outside world. She taught us that the only chance for salvation was cutting away the cancer, chopping off our arm if we needed to protect ourselves against iniquity. There’s no hope in the world you’re from. Nothing is sacred. Everyone would damn the world rather than sacrifice just a little bit of themselves.”

Like all zealots, he was a preacher and he loved hearing himself speak. He went on and on, first about the strange miracles Yillah performed. Then he proceeded to lecture me about how evil the world was. According to him, Yillah was God reincarnated in womanly form and one of the proofs was that she never had a period.

“Son, I have a job today, a mission if you might,” Mardi explained. “Have you heard of the Inquisition?”

“Don’t call me ‘son’,” I said.

He ignored me and leaned on his staff. “The Inquisition was a nasty, but essential, part of the Church. Guillotines and other tortures were brutal, but nothing compared to the executions developed in China over 5000 years. There used to be a death manual for executioners and killing was an art. I have no interest in killing you. We are in the business of saving souls. But we’ve adapted various punishments to help temper stubborn spirits. Spare yourself the agony. Bare your soul before Yillah so that you can be forgiven your transgressions. That is the only way you will be allowed to stay.”

“Stay? Who said anything about staying? I have to get back to Beijing.”

“Out of the question. After you are redeemed, you will never want to leave.”

“What if I don’t want to be redeemed?”

“Either you seek mercy from Yillah through us, or you will present your case to Yillah directly in person.”

“I have too many transgressions and I’m guilty of all of them.”

“Let’s be more specific.”

“How?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you divorced your wife?”

“My relationship with Li—” and I hesitated, not wanting to tell him her name.

“Linda Yu. I know her name. Don’t try to hide it from me.”

“My relationship with Linda is none of your business.”

“It is every bit my business. You come from a broken family, is that not correct?” he asked. “Families often get into a cycle they can never break. The children learn from watching their parents that marriage is not inviolable. They learn bad habits that they repeat. Even if you didn’t know it, they influenced you negatively. You divorced Linda because your parents never taught you that—”

One of the most unbearable things for me was when people brought up my past to condemn my present. How many people had done that to me growing up? I could feel my teeth chattering and my fingers quivering. Breathe deeply, Nick. Breathe 1, 2, 3 . “My parents had nothing to do with my relationship with Linda.”

It had everything to do with my belief in the American Dream, the idea that any man or woman could reshape their destiny regardless of their background. In a world full of false idols, it was my one true belief.

“If you had come from a healthy family, do you think you would have divorced Linda?” he asked.

“Define ‘healthy family’,” I replied.

He took his staff and poked me in the shoulder. “You were one of those clever lonely boys growing up, weren’t you? Compensating for your insecurities with a smart lip. I know your type. It’s sad that such intelligence is wasted. I’m not your enemy. I just want you to come to terms with who you really are.”