Tie Ning - The Bathing Women

The adult Fan presented her seven-year-old self as a hero who was about to save someone; but who could prove she really meant to perform the rescue when she stepped forward back then? If she had truly dashed forward, Tiao would not have been able to restrain her. She had taken Tiao’s hand herself, and maybe she had done that out of fear — they stood, hands clasped, almost shoulder to shoulder that day — though all her life she refused to remember it that way. It was a fact that Fan couldn’t digest, either through her conscience or her intellect. Only a pragmatist would attempt to make such matters appear reasonable, which was Fan’s unconscious strategy now. Maybe she didn’t feel too guilty about long-dead Quan; what she wanted more than anything was to keep Tiao down — the pull on her hand twenty years ago was originally Tiao’s shame, and Fan wanted her sister to know that there was no chance that she had forgotten. Only when the discussion returned to the basic “Did you like Quan?” did Fan’s evasiveness begin to emerge, and she said nothing about it. But Tiao told her frankly, “I didn’t like Quan.” She almost told her the real reason behind her dislike, which certainly didn’t resemble Fan’s instinctive jealousy. She couldn’t tell her what it was, though. Other than Fei, she couldn’t tell anyone the real reason.

Fan envied Tiao’s complete frankness. She suddenly realized that freedom did not lie in transferring responsibility onto others; in fact, freedom meant facing one’s own responsibility directly. When Tiao felt the overwhelming approach of the dark cloud, she had actually started to free herself, but Fan had lost this opportunity forever. That was why she had no sense of victory, although Tiao had been so defeated by this subject. Tiao sat there staring off somewhere with her large, dispirited eyes, and her body seemed to have shrunk in on itself. How was it possible for Tiao to judge Fan’s life in America with calm and detachment? How could Tiao enjoy her easy, secure life? That was the crux of the matter — Fan’s annoyance with those who could live that easy, natural way in their native place.

As the separation approached, they tried to be polite with each other, but it was futile; the pretence was suffocating. Tiao flattered Fan. “Fan, your figure seems to be getting nicer and nicer. Does that have something to do with scuba diving?”

Fan said condescendingly, “Older sister, all your clothes are so much prettier than mine.” No sooner was it said than each attacked the other’s hypocrisy. Later, to ease the tension between them, Tiao bought for Fan from the Friendship Store a boy rag doll in a red flower-patterned cotton jacket and infants’ split trousers with a traditional watermelon cap. The doll’s manufacturer was obviously pandering to foreigners’ taste. Clearly, it was especially designed for them. Tiao remembered Fan saying that she wanted to buy a gift for David’s little niece. What was more suitable than this Chinese doll who wore split trousers? Fan immediately named the doll Wang Dagui and was particularly amused that Wang Dagui could even have his little tool exposed, which was two inches of cotton thread.

Fan’s China trip ended with Wang Dagui. When she brought the doll with her to Beijing International Airport and said goodbye to Tiao, she abruptly grimaced and burst into tears. When she finished checking her bags, confirmed her ticket, and was about to go through customs, she suddenly turned, waved at Tiao, and called out to her, “Older sister, I always miss you.”

Tiao would probably remain the person she’d miss most in the world.

Tears welled up in Tiao’s eyes and her feelings were as tangled as a bunch of twine. Looking at Fan, who was disappearing from her view, she suddenly felt she had abandoned her. Fan had come home especially to tell her this long-past incident, to denounce her, with a victim’s deep compulsions. She had abandoned her sister on that long-ago Sunday, when they stood behind Quan and she pulled Fan’s hand, providing this American citizen in her red wool coat a chilling excuse to torment her anytime she wanted.

5

From then on, it seemed to Tiao that every time Fan came home, her purpose was to make her family suffer — and she had made many trips back since then. The international company she was working for did business with China, and as a departmental manager, she had to travel every year — Beijing, Paris, Toronto, and Tokyo. She always set aside some time to visit her family on these business trips. Having accused Tiao of corruption, she could hardly ask her to drive the publishing house’s car to Beijing to collect her. Forced into a corner, she turned to Chen Zai for help. He had his own car and Fan was willing to ask him to pick her up in Beijing. A hundred times more calculating than Tiao, Fan was determined not to spend any money on car rental.

Or maybe there were other reasons. In America, every time she talked to Tiao on the phone, she would call Chen Zai afterwards. Not that she was checking up on Tiao and Chen Zai or trying to find out how intimate they were. Nothing in particular, she just wanted to chat and hoped that, during her stay in China, she could spend a few hours with Chen Zai, on the drive from Beijing to Fuan, say.

Twice, Chen Zai drove to pick up Fan. On the highway, Fan even asked to try his car for a while. Here in China, she said, she hadn’t dared to drive. When she was in high school, she’d bicycled very well but was now even afraid to ride a bicycle. She just couldn’t get used to so many people anymore; it made her nervous. She drove beautifully, and her long, elegant hands, with their fingernails polished in glossy red, rested confidently on the wheel, looking very stylish. Constantly she’d bring her hand up to tuck back the hair that fell in front of her ears — she wore her hair long. Every move, and every gesture of hers, the rhythm of her speech, the control in her voice, and the expression on her face when she tilted her head to observe Chen Zai, all displayed the manner of a worldly American. She asked Chen Zai casually, “What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re very smart and capable,” Chen Zai said.

Then, again in a casual tone, “And compared to my sister?” Smiling, Chen Zai turned his head to look out the window and said nothing. Perhaps he felt the way Fan asked the question was naïve, and because of the naïveté, she seemed pushy. His smile and avoidance of talk about Tiao gave Fan another sign of the important place Tiao had in Chen Zai’s heart. She was not for casual mention; he didn’t intend to allow her to be a topic of conversation. Here was an intriguing man, Fan thought. She couldn’t see through him. He was not as easygoing as he appeared. To be fair to Fan, she wasn’t really attracted to Chen Zai, but she vaguely wanted Chen Zai to be attracted to her. She wanted to make the men who liked Tiao like her better. Whether it was because she wanted to compete with Tiao or just out of a sense of mischief, she didn’t know.

Once she stayed for a few days in an apartment Tiao had recently moved in to. She liked her sister’s new place, particularly the furniture. She asked about the price and manufacturers, and all of it had been made in China. China now really had everything, and things were very inexpensive. She clearly remembered in the early eighties how people even prized plastic bags and the way many families would save and reuse them. In a few short years, the bags had become white pollution. Paper bags replaced plastic as a status symbol; only, unlike America, China still couldn’t replace all the plastic bags with paper. Once, Fan was watching TV at Tiao’s place, the news on Fuan’s local station, when the mayor called on the residents of Fuan to make a little bit more effort when disposing of the plastic bags, to tie them in a knot before discarding, to protect the environment, to prevent thousands of these little bags from flying all over, falling into treetops and dropping into the food containers of the animals at the zoo, many of which died from accidental ingestion of the bags. Fan was not much interested in politics or current events, but it was from such details that she gauged the progress China had made, even though the mayor didn’t even speak good Mandarin and had stained teeth. He probably didn’t know to clean them; many well-dressed officials in China had stained teeth.