Tie Ning - The Bathing Women

Tiao said, “All my colleagues say I would definitely look good in short hair. Why do you have to say I wouldn’t?”

Chen Zai said, “You don’t have thick hair, and cutting it short would make it look even thinner.”

“What makes you think my hair is thin? It’s your hair that’s thin.”

Chen Zai said, “Okay, okay. My hair is thin. Happy? But you still shouldn’t cut your hair.”

Tiao said, “I’m going to cut it anyway. What can you do?” She didn’t know why she had to be so unreasonable with Chen Zai, as if it were her birthright. After she got her hair cut, everyone said she looked good, but the compliment she most wanted to hear was Chen Zai’s. She’d cared about him so much and for so long, it had become a part of her consciousness.

Now he wanted to come to her place to see her, but she forbade him. She had a hunch that she was going to say something very important to him, and this very important thing made her jumpy about their meeting. She’d never felt that way about seeing him, but now she did, and it made her more nervous to think about seeing him at her home, so nervous that she felt cornered, so that she had to go out somewhere, to go out with him. In the evening, he drove to her place to pick her up, and they drove around and around Fuan in the middle of winter. Tiao said, “When I was in America this time, other than attending the conference, I also visited Texas for a few days.”

Chen Zai said, “Yes, you stayed in Mike’s home.”

Tiao said, “How did you know?”

“Fan called me.”

“She called you? Just to talk about this?”

Chen Zai said, “What’s wrong with that? Can’t she call me?”

Tiao swallowed her anger and said, “Of course she can. Anyone can call you. Anyone can report my whereabouts to you, particularly Fan. I left Chicago after a big fight with her. She made me feel cold. I needed warmth, and Austin is warm.”

Chen Zai said, “Yes, Austin is in the south, and the temperature is higher than Chicago’s.”

“I didn’t mean temperature, though.”

“You meant people?”

“Yes, people.”

Chen Zai went quiet. Tiao asked, “Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t you know whom I meant?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying. You know. You know I meant Mike.”

“Oh, it’s Mike.”

“Yes, it’s Mike. Didn’t Fan mention him to you? She must have told you that it was Mike who invited me to Austin and that I was happy to go, that Mike is seven years younger than I am and that we had a chance to become lovers. Well, Mike is certainly seven years younger than I am, but he’s not as naïve as I imagined, and much more mature and sincere, too. Our meeting in Austin wasn’t a coincidence. He didn’t just happen to be home on vacation during my trip. He arranged to take a leave from his school to wait for me there. His parents were extremely nice to me, and I felt very comfortable with them. We took a trip downtown and went out at night — to Sixth Street for a wild night. I’d never wandered around the streets late at night. I remember you telling me how hard you worked when you studied in England and that you didn’t have much entertainment. What a boring and serious life our generation has lived! Why could I stay up all night when I was with Mike? The next day we drove to San Antonio. Let me tell you, Mike is very clever. He can drive with his knees, which allowed him to put his arm around my shoulder — all the way to San Antonio. We ate the famous Mexican food there, and how particular he was. There were a lot of customers, and we had to wait in line to get a seat. It was a restaurant on the river, with half of the seats indoors and half of them outdoors. On a nice day with bright sunshine and a warm breeze, people prefer to sit outside. A long wait makes people less choosy, but Mike gave up many chances to be seated, insisting on getting one of the small tables facing the water until we finally did. He ordered Lone Star beer, Mexican mashed potatoes, corn cake, and a kind of barbecue meat that was extremely tasty but also extremely spicy, spicy enough to administer a jolt. He even taught me a Spanish word: Thanks— gracias !”

Thanks— gracias !

“I learned. He told me, ‘When the muchacho brings you the wine, you just say thanks in Spanish. Spanish is the official language in San Antonio.’ The muchacho brought the wine to us. When he was pouring me the wine, I, who had been quiet while Mike ordered, suddenly smiled at him and said, ‘Gracias!’ The muchacho was very surprised, so surprised that he actually knocked over my wineglass. It seemed normal to him that I, the Asian, couldn’t speak, and when I suddenly came out with Spanish, it was like a mute found her voice. I repeated ‘Gracias’ to him, he kept saying, ‘De nada, de nada,’ and then rushed to replace the wine. Mike said, ‘Do you know why he was so surprised? It’s because your pronunciation was perfect. He must think you speak Spanish. I really want to teach you. You definitely could learn it.’ I told Mike, ‘It’s impossible. I’m too old to learn Spanish.’ Mike said, ‘Don’t say it’s impossible. Never say impossible to life.’ Mike seemed to have made me see the path back to happiness, and Mike seemed to have given me the courage to return to it. I almost forgot I had been happy before. That was when I was three, climbing tentatively with my bottom out onto the sofa with broken springs. That was my happiness — innocent, flawless happiness — happiness without history, happiness without any events. We didn’t go back to Austin until dark. That was the night Mike told me that he loved me. Did you hear me, Chen Zai? Mike told me he loved me.”

Chen Zai said, “Yes, I heard you. Mike said he loved you. Do you love him?”

Tiao said, “I want to love him. I really want to love him. I really want to tell him that I love him. I … I … I simply love him and I must love him. The problem is … the problem is, I’ve said so much to you and I want to know what you think of it all. Before … I told you everything about me before, so I want to hear what you think of it.”

Tiao rambled on, but this speech of hers wasn’t sincere. It was not the “most important thing” that she wanted to tell Chen Zai, but she couldn’t lead the conversation to the most important thing no matter how hard she tried. She didn’t know why she would babble about Austin or why the more she loved Chen Zai, the more she praised Mike. It was probably also a kind of timidity, hypocrisy and timidity. Again she repeated what she’d just said — timidly and hypocritically—”I want to tell him I love him. I must love him …” Her heart felt such pain that she was at the point of tears.

Chen Zai slowed down and parked his car on the side of the road. He rolled down the window as if to get some fresh air. He said, “Tiao, if you really love him, other things, like age, are all secondary.”

Tiao said, “Is that your opinion? Is that what you want to say to me?”

Chen Zai was quiet for a while and then said, “Yes, that’s what I think.” Tiao’s face suddenly changed toward him — Chen Zai knew it even in the dark. Her expression was grim, resenting herself as well as Chen Zai. “Tell me again what it is you think.” Chen Zai turned his face to the darkness outside the window. “If you really love him, other things aren’t important.”

Tiao questioned him sharply, “Do you really think like that?”

“Yes, I really do.”

Tiao said, “You’re talking nonsense. You always talk nonsense. Deep down, that’s not really what you think. You said it because you think that is what you should say. You’re hypocritical through and through. You’ve always been hypocritical through and through. Why do I bother to talk to you? Why am I talking crap to you? I hate you. I’ve never hated you as much as I do now … You … you! Now I should go. Goodbye!”