Ha Jin - A Free Life

"You bet, or I wouldn't have had him invited over and paid three thousand dollars."

"Reelly! He made mahney so easily? He just worked two or three hours and made more zan Pingping and I can make in a month."

"Life's unfair, isn't it? But that's the price for poets of his stature."

"How about you?"

"I'll be lucky if a school invites me just to read. Occasionally I get five hundred dollars for a visit." "Zat's not bad."

"No, I can't complain. I can't think of money and power at this point in my career."

"You're right," Nan said sincerely. "If you reelly like power, you should run for zer governor."

Dick chortled. "I'll remember that." He turned his fork to twist some noodles into a bundle, then added, "Because what's at stake is so piddling in the poetry world, the competition is all the more fierce. In fact, it's a rough-and-tumble territory. Also, most poets live in cliques, otherwise it would be hard for us to survive. The network is essential."

"So you belong to Sam's group?"

"You can say that."

To some extent Nan was disillusioned by what Dick said. To him the poetry world should be relatively pure, and genuine poets free spirits, passionate but disinterested. Yet according to Dick, many of them were territorial and xenophobic. Could someone like himself ever belong to a coterie? Unlikely. He couldn't imagine being accepted by any clique. Besides, above all, he wanted to become a self-sufficient individual.

Dick lifted the teacup and took a swallow. He grinned at Nan while dipping his pointed chin. He looked secretive and leaned forward, whispering, "I want to show you something, Nan." He fished out of his hip pocket two small tubers like shriveled ginger roots, dried thoroughly. They looked familiar to Nan, but he couldn't remember what they were called. Dick asked, "Do you use this herb too?"

"What are these?"

"Dong quai, a kind of aphrodisiac. I thought you Chinese all used it."

Nan broke into laughter, which baffled his friend. "What's so funny?" Dick said.

Instead of answering, Nan asked, "You have used Tiger Balm for sex too?"

"Sure, but that's not as good as Indian God Lotion and burns your skin like hell."

Nan cracked up again, his eyes squeezed shut. "To tell zer truth, in China women use dong quai to regulate menstruation. It nurtures zer yin in your body, not zer yang. I've never heard zat any man eats zis herb to strengthen a dick."

Dick was amazed, then grinned. " Nan, you're a poet."

"How so?"

"You just made a pun with my name."

"Oh yes." Nan was surprised by his unintended feat.

"To be fair, this is powerful stuff," Dick went on. "I've used it for a while and it has really improved my performance and made me feel strong. It helps my writing too. As for Tiger Balm, I've removed it from my medicine cabinet."

"People in China mainly rub zer balm on zeir foreheads to prevent sunstroke, or on their temples to sooze headaches. Even kids use it too. We call it 'fresh and cool ointment.' Nobody trits it as somesing zat can increase sexual pleasure."

"Ah, this is a case of significant misunderstanding in cultural exchange, don't you think?"

"Of coss it's meaningful. It reflects zer core of American culture zat's obsessed with two s's."

"Two s's? What are they?"

"Self and sex."

"Very true." Dick's eyes lit up as he gave a hearty laugh. "Where did you get this idea? Is there an article or book on this?" "No, just my personal impression." "That's excellent."

After that conversation, Dick came to the restaurant more often, though Eleanor rarely accompanied him. He seemed fascinated by Nan, by the kind of off-kilter humor Nan had. Also, Nan always offered him something free along with his order-a couple of steamed dumplings, or a pair of egg rolls, or a scallion pancake. Ping-ping once asked Dick why Eleanor hadn't come with him. He shook his head and said, "She wants to play the field."

Pingping didn't understand that idiom. When she asked Nan, he said, "Eleanor wants to see as many men as possible."

"No wonder Dick has such a sad face these days," she said thoughtfully.

"He's lonely, I guess. He said I was his only friend here." Nan was surprised by his own words, because he had never believed Dick felt isolated in Atlanta.

"I don't think that's true. He has a lot of colleagues at Emory."

"But that doesn't mean they're his friends."

"He's just a big boy, inside weak."

"Anyway he's my friend." Nan looked at Pingping, who smiled at him quizzically. "What?" he asked.

She said nothing. Nan took hold of her ear, tweaking it, and ordered, "Confess."

"Let go!" she shrieked.

The instant he released her, she grabbed a flyswatter from the counter and set out to chase him. Nan was running around the table in the middle of the room, clockwise or counterclockwise, opposite the direction she moved in. Both of them seemed to have forgotten what had caused the pursuit, and despite their panting and red faces, they looked happy. Niyan laughed and watched them while shaking her head.

PINGPING felt uneasy about Nan 's going out with Dick, though he generally did so at most once a month. Together they had gone to a Shakespearean play, a puppet show, and a reading given by John Updike. She understood that Nan needed some diversion once in a while, but the work at the Gold Wok would get hectic without him around. Shubo could cook a few things now, but Pingping would have to bustle about in the kitchen most of the time when Nan wasn't there. What's worse, Nan 's absence would make her fidgety and make the place feel as strange as if it belonged to someone else. Why does he have to spend so much time with that frivolous Dick? she often wondered. Will they go elsewhere after the reading? Will they be alone, just the two of them? I really don't mind that they're friends, but I want Nan to stay here. He shouldn't act like a bachelor and ought to pay more attention to our family. He should spend more time with Taotao.

Whenever Pingping complained about Nan, Niyan sympathized with her. One day Niyan said to her, "Why don't Nan and you go to church on Sundays? You can meet lots of interesting people there and have fun too. You won't feel isolated or insecure once you belong to a church."

"In fact," Pingping said, "a number of people have shown up on our doorstep to invite us to join their churches, but we're not Christians, so we don't go."

"Aiya, why have only a one-track mind? You don't have to be a Christian to attend Sunday services." Niyan fingered her drop earring while biting her bottom lip. Her eyes, slightly bulging, were fixed on Pingping.

"We don't believe in Jesus Christ yet," Pingping said.

" Why so serious about that? How many of us are real believers? The church is a place where you can meet people and make friends. It has night schools and dance parties for singles. It can make you feel better with so many Chinese around."

"We're not singles."

"All I'm saying is that once you join a church, people will help you and your life will be safer and easier." "Do you really feel that way?" "Of course, why should I lie to you?" "All right, I'll talk to Nan about this."

"Tell him that Shubo and I have had a great time in our church. You can attend the sermons on Sunday mornings. That will make you feel good, calm inside."

Pingping agreed to persuade Nan, mainly because she had something else on her mind. Dick Harrison had just broken up with his girlfriend, and Pingping was afraid he might be a bisexual and start an affair with Nan. She couldn't understand why Nan was so attached to that flighty man. There must have been some mutual attraction between them. To prevent her husband from turning gay, she even gave him several vitamins every day, since she had read in an outdated book that many cases of homosexuality were due to vitamin deficiency. She dared not express her concerns explicitly to Nan, who just swallowed whatever pills she gave him, never raising any question about them.