Howard Goldblatt (Editor) - Chairman Mao Would Not Be Amused – Fiction From Today

Oh, Mama, the ocean isn't blue! Mimi raised her pudgy arms, threw them around Mama's youthful long neck, and floated lightly upward, the weight of twelve years seemingly as light as a feather. Mama scooped little Mimi out of the water, cupping her like a living heart. Watery eyes spread open, a rose. You're twelve years old today. Taking you swimming in the ocean is Mama's present to you, because you never enjoyed the love of a father…

Mama! Two wet faces pressed together; a childish heart grew suddenly solemn. A ferocious wave crashed over them. Mimi swallowed a mouthful of seawater, brackish and salty. Mama staggered back to the beach, cradling Mimi in her arms. She looked at the stunned expression on Mama's face and felt resentment, sadness. She never swam in the ocean again.

The first time Mimi saw him was on her second trip to the sea-shore. She was sitting alone on the beach, staring up at the moon, a sheet of red paper stuck onto the canopy of heaven above the sea. She was laden with sorrow. He walked up and sat down beside her. The beach was deserted, the sand unbearably cold and cheerless. He spoke to Mimi in a disbelieving voice. You look just like Her, the same sadness, the same purity. She loves the moon, the early morning sun, Beethoven, Spinoza…

A poet?

No, unemployed. Gets by by doing odd jobs. She published a story when She was eighteen; at twenty, She had a solo vocal recital, as a coloratura. But like ordinary women, She gleaned scraps of coal and carried manure buckets, all for the sake of Her son… His voice quickly faded out. Mimi's heart leaped into her mouth. The sea was unbelievably calm; all she could hear were the softly lapping waves and the violent beating of her heart.

Do you love Her?

I adore Her. My only goal in life is to make Her happy.

Mimi's heart crawled; her narrow chest began to swell. The broad expanse of the beach was nearly unbearable. She headed over to a shaded path that led to the shore. The thick branches of the towering kola-nut trees were intertwined, their thick shade forming a dark umbrella over Mimi's head. He followed quietly behind her, as still as a shadow.

Who is She?

My mother.

Thunder roared; the moon was gone. In the pitch-darkness, he grabbed Mimi's hand and drew up next to her, purring like a cat. Her suspended heart settled back down, dissolving into millions of pearls of tribute. The "motherhood" memorial arch screened out the last traces of jealousy. All the emotions in the world could be written with only the word affection or filiality ; otherwise, it would be blasphemy. A bolt of lightning flashed between them; two twisted faces drew together. In the space of a minute, countless driven raindrops crashed into two bodies and two hearts consumed by flames at the base of an ancient tree. They saw nothing, they heard nothing. There was only the driven rain and the mud and an inextinguishable fireball. Tens of thousands of years ago, the heavens had opened up angrily, just like tonight, and a pair of lovers had died for love beneath the branches of this ancient tree. After tens of thousands of springs, tens of thousands of summers, two carnal-colored seeds had formed deep beneath the roots of this gnarled, ancient tree. Maybe the vows would be answered on this rainy night, and the two love seeds would finally germinate and sprout forth. As the rain fell, they exchanged their burning hearts, which sizzled with each raindrop. A chill wind brushed past, whipping up flames of joy. Thunder roared angrily; the gigantic canopy of the tree rose into the air, then crashed to the ground. Their souls flew out of their bodies. The fire was out, but gray smoke continued to curl upward. The wind died down, the rain stopped, a cluster of rice-colored stars was set free to cleanse the canopy of heaven. They stared silently at each other like a pair of clay statues, gazing into each other's expression, all genuine feelings now lost.

Come to my place, and change into some dry clothes.

No, Mother's waiting anxiously for me to come home.

They held hands tightly in the darkness, then let go. No words of comfort, no good-byes as they parted.

He knew it had been an extraordinary rainy night and that he'd given her an even more extraordinary love. Mimi knew it had been a soul-stirring rainy night and that she'd relinquished soul-stirring emotions to the rainy night. The rainy night had incurred a heavy debt. What they'd taken from the rainy night could never be easily abandoned. Love had turned their hearts into a scorched mass, but they remained fused together to avoid the pain of being ripped apart.

Mother wants to meet you.

Why?

She has to give Her permission for me to marry. I know She'll like you.

On Sunday, he climbed the Great Wall, Mimi holding his left hand, Mother holding his right. He used up a roll of color film beside the North Sea, his left arm around Mimi's shoulder, his right hand gripping Mother's arm. Mimi let him hold the parasol; She handed him her feather-light handbag. Mimi took off her jacket and put it over his shoulders; She put her half-eaten Popsicle up to his mouth. Mimi could see resentment in Her eyes; She could see superfluousness in Mimi's face. He tried to please Mimi by buying a Popsicle; he tried to please Her by buying a soft drink, all the time panting like a cat in heat.

At dusk, Mimi's first glance took in Her thick black hair, oppressive, impenetrable. Three pink moles at the corner of Her mouth were so close together they were almost one. From then on, unlucky omens began to appear in Mimi's dreams. Bright red, meaty growths appeared. Countless pink eyes hidden in Her thick black hair, shedding tears like blood… Mimi often woke from her dreams in terror; in the surrounding blackness, she refreshed her image of him by looking through photographs.

How about this one?

No, you can't see Ma's disposition in it. This one's no good, either. You can't see Mother's grace in it. Um-um, these are even worse…

This one's pretty good.

Her hair isn't dyed.

Gray hair's a sign of kindness.

No, She looks too old. Mimi, under no circumstances are you to let Mother see this photo!

Why?

If She sees Herself looking so old, She'll be upset. From now on, you're not to call Her an old lady to Her face. His words were strings of waterdrops that seeped into Mimi's heart like poison. Mimi's nerves felt raw; she was trembling. She walked out of the house and wandered aimlessly. She walked up to a shop where people were selling all kinds of diapers; countless wrinkled, chapped feet stepped over pudgy babies lying on the ground as they fought over the colorful diapers. Mimi reached out. Four huge cats' eyes bit down painfully. She pulled her hand back and realized that her face was still pressed up against the icy window. She stared at the orange moon as it scurried in and out of a jumbled mass of clouds. Another daydream! Mimi dragged her stiffened legs out the door. What was this, a blanket of stars in the sky above and on the ground below? Heaven and earth, everything was all jumbled up! Her face was soaked; water filled her eyes. She stepped in a puddle shattering it as an orange moon landed on her instep. She kicked it away and walked up to the room, stepping in one puddle after another. Mimi stood in the doorway, oblivious to the passage of time. His broad, heavy back blocked her view of the reclining chair. They couldn't see Mimi, but Mimi could see his limp, boneless hand massaging a mound of withered, yellowed wrinkles. Amid the wrinkles, countless stringy mammary glands converged to form two dark-purple nipples, like overripe squishy grapes.

The pain in my chest started when I was pregnant with you. Her voice seemed to float up from the depths of a dying well, then sank slowly back down. Mimi could see Her parted lips, Her half-closed eyes, the three pink moles quivering in a red tide.