Tie Ning - The Bathing Women

“She’ll hear us,” Tiao said.

“I guarantee you that she doesn’t understand Chinese. The language barrier can come in handy — she might think you’re complimenting her even though you’re actually cursing her.” They laughed.

She and Tiao took a walk down the elegant Goethe Street near the lake. She went into a flower shop on their way and insisted on buying a white lily for Tiao to hold. Although she felt that it was a little affected, Tiao’s heart was warmed by Fan’s thoughtfulness. As she held the fragrant lily and walked along Goethe Street, a fluffy puppy ran past them. The owner was a well-dressed thin old lady, but the strange thing was the puppy kept turning back towards them while it ran forward, which made Tiao and Fan keep looking at the puppy, too. Fan said, “Tiao, I think the dog looks like Maxim Gorky.” The comparison surprised Tiao, who just couldn’t imagine a puppy resembling a person, but they did look alike. Then, as if to confirm their conclusion, the puppy turned around to them again. Tiao couldn’t help cracking up, and she laughed so hard that she doubled over. The lily in her hand almost got crumpled and Fan pulled her into a restaurant called Big Shot. Both would remember the walk for a long time, and how they ran into “Gorky” on Goethe Street.

David came home in the evening and the three of them went to eat Japanese food. Time flowed like water with the arrangements, and everything seemed to go very well. Fan stayed in Tiao’s room until late at night, chatting. They hadn’t indulged in any girl-talk in ages, and now Fan started first — with confidences about a couple of brief affairs she’d had. Tiao then mentioned the friend named Mike who had invited her to Texas. “So the friend is a man,” Fan said.

“Yes, it’s a man,” Tiao said. “We met at a conference. His Chinese is very good, and he worked as an interpreter for my paper at the conference. Now he’s studying Chinese at Beijing University.”

“Are you interested in him?” Fan asked. Tiao said nothing. “Then he must be interested in you,” Fan said.

“He’s too young, seven years younger than I am. What does he know about love?” Tiao said.

Fan said, “Here people admire you if you have a lover who is seven years younger than you are. Older sister, I really envy you. I never expected you to be so … daring.”

“Me, daring? But nothing’s happened.”

“He … What colour are Mike’s hair and eyes? Do you have his picture?”

“No, I don’t, but you can talk to him and try his Chinese. I also need to give him my flight information. He said he would come to the airport to pick me up.”

They went ahead and called Mike. Both felt the need to avoid David, so they chose to make the phone call in the kitchen. Tiao and Mike exchanged greetings and talked a little, and then she introduced Fan to Mike. A Chinese who speaks English so well, and an American so fluent in Chinese, wouldn’t it be fun for them to have a conversation? So Fan took the phone and started to talk to Mike.

She insisted on talking to Mike in English instead of Chinese. Mike must have been complimenting her English on the other end of the phone, because Tiao saw her smile proudly. She was smiling, and speaking English at length, ignoring Tiao, who was standing next to her — maybe it was exactly because Tiao was next to her that she insisted on isolating her from them with English. Isolation was certainly what it was, with some condescension and insensitivity. The message seemed to be directed at Tiao, with this graceful and melodious English, that this was America, and no matter what kind of relationship Tiao was going to have with Mike, she was still a person who couldn’t speak. Tiao and Mike couldn’t talk like Fan and Mike could. She rattled on in English, making happy gestures and laughing heartily, as if she had known Mike forever. Her sense of humour and cleverness were enough to make their conversation lively and interesting. “Oh, Mike, why do you have to speak Chinese? Forget Chinese. Don’t try to tell Tiao you love her in Chinese.” She went on and on, maybe starting to feel nervous about the fact that Mike could speak to Tiao in Chinese. What right did Tiao have to be friends with an American? How could she have an American friend, considering her survival-English skills, her bare ability to ask for food on the aeroplane, directions in the street, or to buy simple things at the store? Unfortunately, it so happened that the American fellow spoke good Chinese. Her luck just confirmed the Chinese proverb: “The gods send good fortune to fools.” So she couldn’t have tolerated Mike speaking Chinese to Tiao. If she didn’t hear it, her heart could be at peace. For her not to hear meant it didn’t exist. Once heard, it would have become a reality: an American’s vocal cords could produce the sounds of Chinese, and those sweet words were not spoken to Fan but to this strange Tiao beside her. She couldn’t bear it, and hated her own vulnerability.

This English phone conversation had been going on for too long, long enough to make Tiao suspicious. Finally Fan brought the phone away from her ear and held it out to Tiao. “Mike is asking if you have anything else to say to him.”

For some reason Tiao grew apprehensive about taking the phone. The way Fan had seized control of the phone conversation and that tone of hers, assuming the role of the host—”Mike is asking if you have anything else to say to him”—only brought a single word to mind: cruelty. She lost interest in talking to Mike, and whether out of a sense of inferiority or low spirits, she hung up.

They halfheartedly said good night to each other and returned to their own rooms; both seemed to be trying to maintain a semblance of good relations.

If Tiao hadn’t made a small mistake the next morning, her stay in Chicago might have ended as well as it began. Unfortunately, she had a little accident; she had been having her period and accidentally got blood on the bedsheet, a very small spot, the size of a nickel. Immediately she got up, pulled off the sheet, and went to the bathroom to wash it, where she ran right into Fan, who was brushing her teeth.

Fan’s mood had changed overnight. For some reason Tiao holding the bloodstained bedsheet set her off. “Older sister, what are you doing?”

“I have to wash this spot.”

“You don’t have to wash it. I’ll take care of it when I do the laundry.”

“Let me take care of it.”

“Put it down. Put it down. Can’t you just put it down?”

“Why are you getting so worked up?”

“I don’t understand why you don’t use the tampons. I always do, and it never stains the sheet.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I wasn’t used to tampons?”

“Why can’t you get used to them? Why can’t you get used to the things that Americans are used to?”

“I don’t like stuffing things into my vagina.”

“But your thingies with the little …” In her exasperation, she momentarily forgot how to say winged pads. “They leaked on the sheets.”

“I’m sorry about the sheets, but it’s my choice to use the kind I want. Why do I have to use what you order me to?”

“I’m not ordering you, but I do have tampons at home. Only you refuse to use them. Didn’t I drive to the store to accommodate your habits — the fussiness you brought with you from China to America? What more do you want me to do?”

“You’re right that I’m fussy in some ways. I’ve always known that you didn’t like that about me. My clothes, my luggage, my friends, my job, all of it annoys you, makes you unhappy. You want me to say that only what you do is best, right? Your cat, and your tampons. I have to throw my arms open and embrace everything you recommend, right?”