Tie Ning - The Bathing Women

Tiao posted the letter at the post office, then went to the grocery store and bought a big live carp. The grocer tied the fish’s mouth shut with a string of iris grass and handed it over to Tiao. She always remembered the price of that carp: ninety-five cents. She would forget many things over the years but not the ninety-five-cent carp. Her mood at the time was also memorable: she walked home carrying the swinging fish, straining a little bit, but feeling happy, confident, and proud. She liked having Wu back to prop up the family; she also wanted Wu to see that Tiao was not an ordinary girl in her parents’ absence. She wasn’t only capable of buying things, but she also knew how to cook them. She returned home, put the fish in the sink, removed the scales, cut open the belly, rinsed the cavity, drained it, picked up the cleaver and made diagonal cuts on the fish’s body, then patted a thin layer of cornstarch onto the fish and fried it … In the end she produced a braised carp and took it to Wu. Her little face was red from the heat of the greasy smoke, and the sweat made her fringe stick to her forehead; the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up, revealing her tiny arms.

Fan ran around and cheered; she was proud of her older sister. She also took the opportunity to show off her own cooking tips, saying, “Mum, do you know what to do if you accidentally break the fish’s gallbladder when you’re cleaning it? You pour some white wine right away into the fish belly …”

Tiao’s braised carp took Wu by surprise. She felt a lump in her throat, yes, a lump, and then she began to cry. It was the first time she had cried since getting home; the tears came from the kind of guilt that can’t be eased with an apology. She realized then that she hadn’t asked about the two children’s lives since she came home, how school was, what they ate every day, and whether they were being bullied or not. She really wanted to hold them to her breast and hug them tightly, but she didn’t seem able to. Not every mother is capable of loving her child, although every child in the world longs to be loved. Not every mother can give off the maternal glow, although every child in the world longs to be bathed in it. Tiao always guarded herself against possible closeness with Wu, including the occasions when her mother cried. When tears threatened to bring them closer to one another, Tiao got embarrassed. This would be their regret, as mother and daughter, all their lives: they almost never could laugh or cry at the same time; either the mother was half a beat slower, or the other way around. That was why Wu’s tears now couldn’t move and comfort Tiao; Tiao just tried her hardest simply to understand her mother, and felt proud of herself for the effort.

They began to eat the fish. Wu said, “I’m going to knit a jumper for each of you.” She said it eagerly, as if knitting jumpers were another form of embrace. She couldn’t hug them, so she was going to knit for them. Tiao said, “Knit one for Fan first. Rose is the prettiest colour, isn’t it, Fan?”

Fan said, “Rose is the prettiest colour and it’s the only colour I want.” This loyalty of hers to Tiao, this enthusiastic response, made Tiao feel like it had been a dream whenever she recalled it later. Next, as if to go along with the pleasant atmosphere, Wu talked about her plan to invite a guest over for dinner. She said that during her stay in hospital, she had been really fortunate to have Dr. Tang. So, to express her gratitude, she wanted to invite him over for dinner. She said, “You’re both young and don’t know how hard it is to see a doctor.” If there hadn’t been this Dr. Tang, her life might have been in danger, not to mention the sick leave. She deliberately said the words “sick leave” softly, under her breath, but Tiao still heard her. If there hadn’t been this sick leave, she wouldn’t be able to stay at home for a month. Tiao said she didn’t understand. “Didn’t you get the sick leave because you were sick? Why was it because of the doctor that you got the sick leave?”

Wu said, “Not every patient could get permission to rest. To put it simply, Dr. Tang is important and someone we should thank.”

So they thanked him. It was a Sunday and Wu broke her routine and got up early. She asked Tiao to help her in the kitchen and was busy for almost an entire morning. She hadn’t cooked for a long time and was out of practice, and her sense about salt, sugar, soy sauce, and MSG was off. She was intimidated by the kitchen, the way she was by the Reed River Farm. But as she bustled around, the one tiny advantage of the Reed River Farm occurred to her: they didn’t need to cook there; they ate in the canteen. She made several odd-looking dishes, asking Tiao over and over again where the seasonings were. Spicy soy sauce and fennel — she had completely forgotten where they were. Finally, she planned to make a dessert: grilled miniature snowballs. She mentioned it to Tiao and Tiao said, “That’s my dad’s dish. No one knows how to make it when he’s not home.”

“Why can’t we make it? Aren’t fresh milk, eggs, and sugar all we need?”

“We also need vanilla and citric acid. Without citric acid, milk will stay liquid. It won’t become miniature snowballs.”

Wu looked at Tiao with surprise and asked, “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen Dad make it.”

Wu said, “Find citric acid for me and I’ll make grilled miniature snowballs.”

“We don’t have citric acid.”

Wu believed Tiao, but she had a vague feeling that Tiao wanted to keep the recipe for miniature snowballs to herself.

Later, candied apple was substituted for grilled snowballs. Tiao despised this dish from the bottom of her heart. She had never liked any kind of “candied” dish, thinking it was neither hygienic nor civilized for people to pull out the apples with their chopsticks, trailing syrupy tangled candied strings, and then everyone dipping them into the same bowl of cold water, meanwhile faking the same amazed and satisfied expressions as they ate. Besides, what was so amazing and satisfying about eating sugarcoated apple? Furthermore, when Wu made candied apple, she always overdid the sugar, so there weren’t any sugar strings to be pulled no matter how hard you tried. There were just gooey pieces and chunks that would stick to your teeth and palate. Tiao would keep licking the roof of her mouth with her tongue and sometimes had to put her fingers into her mouth to pry the stuff free. However, it passed as a dessert. With the way Wu cooked, who could blame Tiao for telling her that they didn’t have citric acid?

When the dinner was ready, Wu began changing her clothes, going back and forth between the few outfits she had, whose styles were almost all the same, but in different colours like grey, green, blue, etc. But Wu looked good, her face glowing with excitement. She kept looking at herself in the mirror and also lowered her head and asked Tiao to smell her hair. “Do you think my hair smells of grease? Smell it again. Maybe I should wash my hair.”

Tiao sniffed at Wu’s hair and smelled a little grease smoke, but wasn’t in a hurry to say anything. She asked Wu suddenly, “Is Dr. Tang a man or a woman?” Wu was startled for a moment and then straightened her back, her hair falling over half of her face. She said, “It’s … it’s uncle. You should call him uncle. What’s the matter?” “Nothing,” Tiao said. For some reason she didn’t want to tell Wu that her hair smelled of grease smoke; she didn’t want Wu to wash her hair one more time for this thank-you dinner. She felt Wu had spent too much time preparing for the dinner and was taking it too seriously. She had never seen her mother so serious about anything, including Tiao’s and Fan’s business. Wu ignored Tiao’s reservations and washed her hair once more, as if she’d known that Tiao hadn’t told the truth. Her dark, shiny hair matched her fresh, lustrous face — with the two soft, delicate, faultless eyebrows — it all looked very beautiful to Tiao, but she never said so to Wu.