Atticus Lish - Preparation for the Next Life

Oh, he said. Okay.

You can come inside?

All right.

You don’t mind?

No.

They went inside and it smelled like ginger. There was an island full of dried things in the center of the floor: animals that looked like plants, plants that looked like animals, sheets of horn, cartilage, treelike sprouts of bone, wood, or root. The walls were covered in medication boxes just like Duane Reade, except the medications were different. They sold Goupi Medicated Plaster. There were rows of apothecary jars behind the counter containing abalone. In the back of the store, there was a giant wall of labeled drawers like the card catalog at a library or safety deposit boxes in a bank.

Three men in suit jackets manned the counter, negotiating with a group of customers speaking Chinese. The men had cell phones and keys on their belts. One of them — a balding man in glasses — said, Ten percent off — Ten — and made a cross with his index fingers to indicate the Chinese character for ten.

Another man who had been watching the negotiation turned and looked at Skinner and Zou Lei. His eyes passed over Skinner and he asked Zou Lei, What do you want?

I’ve brought my friend to get medicine. He’s suffered shock. The shock was severe.

But the man put up a finger right away to stop her. He didn’t know what she was talking about, so she would have to talk to Mr. Jia. He indicated him by lifting his chin at him and then turned away with his hands behind his back and walked away to another part of the counter.

She made a loop around the store, passing the male performance enhancers in the case at the back: Hard Ten Days, Hard Black Ant, Street Overlord, German Bullwhip. To her, they weren’t remarkable, and Skinner didn’t see them.

Skinner picked up a handful of gold foil-wrapped candy out of a tray in the center island.

Think these are good?

Maybe, she said.

He smelled the candy through the wrapper. Smell that, he said. What’s that smell?

She hunted for the word. A strip of cardboard, which had been sliced out of a cardboard box, stuck out of the tray, saying Gold Tree Ginger Candy. The characters had been written deftly with a pointed laundry marker.

It’s the ginger.

Should I get them?

I think we need to find something that can help you, not just taste good.

True. He dropped the candy back in the tray. I just don’t know what any of this stuff does.

I don’t know either, but we can look.

She began going through the products on the shelves one after the other, looking at them, turning them over, putting them back: Dacon Pain Patch, Foot Patch, Organic Sorghum Groats, Motherwort Tea, Vita-Kidney, Vita-Hero (Male Enhancement), hawthorn berry, Banlangen Isatis Root Supplement, Chickenbonegrass Abri Tea, Tibet Guava Tea, Fried Semen Coicis (Job’s Tears).

There was a poster on the wall catty-corner to the apothecary jars, showing a very white-skinned woman holding up the OK sign with her long-fingered porcelain hand. She was looking at you through the O of the OK sign. In Chinese, it said: When your monthly is OK, everything’s OK. With her other eye, she was winking.

The other customers went out and Zou Lei went back to the counter to talk to Mr. Jia, who was now free.

What does she want? Mr. Jia asked his associate over his glasses.

She wants to tell you herself.

I’ll tell you.

Good. You tell me! Mr. Jia told Zou Lei over his glasses. He kept his chin lowered and stared at her with a droll expression as if this were a comic situation and he could barely suppress his laughter.

I’ve brought my friend to get medicine, she said, and began to explain what was going on with Skinner. I don’t know what to call it. He served in the army in Iraq. There was too much shock there. There were many bombs that went off constantly. The bombs went off in his ear in an unbroken chain. He suffered shock. Himself, he is very brave, but he has anxiety. He drinks more than amount.

He was wounded?

Yes, he was wounded. His back was wounded. But also he suffered some concussion in his head.

Mr. Jia gestured to Skinner to come over. Let me see your arm. You can push the sleeve up. But Skinner found it easier to take his hoodie off entirely. Mr. Jia looked at the other men and said, The American boy’s muscles are so big, he can’t push his sleeve up. And they all smiled. In English, he told Skinner:

You are big man. Good!

He took Skinner’s arm and felt his wrist pulse for fifteen seconds. Then he told Skinner to open his mouth and stick his tongue out. He moved his hands towards Skinner’s face as if he were going to touch his tongue and Skinner flinched.

Look at that! A soldier is that easy to scare! he said to the other men.

And, in English: Don’t worry. Not touch. Only look.

Mr. Jia squinted through his spectacles at Skinner’s tongue.

I already see it. I already tell. You have disease. The internal body not working right. He called his associates over and told Zou Lei to look as well. You see? He reached out towards Skinner’s face again, and Skinner blinked. You see that reaction? It’s the disorder. A normal soldier is not afraid of the single hand. He would block my hand. Instead he flinches. His pulse is throbbing-surging, a sign of shock.

Oh, yes. We see it, the associates said. It’s very clear. His reactions are disordered.

You see it too? Mr. Jia demanded of Zou Lei.

You get a hit! he shouted at Skinner. Almost the same like punch. Piiyaa! He slapped his hands together. Skinner blinked. Affect body, affect mind. No balance. Right? Now, one day happy, one day sad.

The pharmacist pretended to be sad like a little child, boohooing and rubbing his eyes with his fists.

Right?

Skinner just stared, but Zou Lei agreed that that was it and Mr. Jia burst into a smile.

He told his associate to bring him the Primary Wuzhihuang, an orange box the size of a fifth of vodka. He showed them the gold seal on the box, making sure that Zou Lei read it: National Brand of China.

Return the balance, he said. Look. You read. He pointed at the ingredients: Pure polygonatum, coronarium, angelica sinensis, scutellaria barbata. Pure, he underlined — the one word he tried to say.

The fact that the ingredients were pure was what justified the price of $59.99, he explained.

She hesitated, and asked him if he understood what was wrong with Skinner. She wanted to describe his symptoms again to make sure there was no confusion.

The symptoms come from the cause, don’t they? Then we must treat the cause, not the symptom. That’s what makes Chinese medicine superior to Western medicine. Putting a Band-Aid on a disease doesn’t fix it. The disease is still present. We must treat the inside. His imbalance was caused on the inside. This medicine works on the inside. You have heard of cells, haven’t you? The cells in the body, yes? This medicine powerfully goes into the cells. It cures the cells. Then what do you think happens? Naturally, it cures the body. Fix the cell, fix the entire body.

What about his drinking?

This one. He pointed at the Scutellaria in the ingredients. Toxins out, he said.

He has psychological pain.

He’s schizophrenic?

No. He has sadness.

If his body feels better, his mind will feel better. For his glorious service, I’ll give you ten percent off.

She was going to ask him another question, but the door opened and other customers came in and Mr. Jia went out from behind the counter to greet them. They were Chinese and were already telling him what they wanted.

What’d he say?

He say he will give a discount.

Together they contemplated the orange box stamped with gold writing.

How are you supposed to take this? Is it like MetRx where you just mix it in juice?