Su Tong - Madwoman On the Bridge and Other Stories

‘Did the other driver get out and help him? There’s the rural hospital in Siqian.’

‘Help him? He didn’t even get out of his truck, he just took off! I was right behind him and didn’t know what to do. It was one of those situations where you can’t really win. I just gritted my teeth and kept driving. I hadn’t counted on the old man still being alive, though, and as I drove past he suddenly popped up, his whole body covered in blood, and tried to flag me down!’

The proprietress gave a frightened shout and said, ‘That is scary! You mean he wasn’t dead? Is he dead now?’

‘How do I know? I was scared half to death myself.’ The driver had started eating his food. As he chewed he said, ‘I’m guessing he didn’t survive. He was walking from the fields on to the road. The raindrops were big as soya beans, you couldn’t really see for them. He was an old man from a village and his reflexes were slow — you know how they all walk along the road with their heads down, as if the national highways were built for their personal convenience. He was carrying a basket full of chilli peppers. When he was hit, there was a bang, like a firecracker, and the peppers flew all over the place. I’m not kidding, the guy and the peppers both flew up, just like a big firecracker.’

They had been talking very loudly, annoying Xue sitting over by the counter. ‘Look, please keep it down. I can’t hear a thing. Ms Fang is writing a suicide note. She wants to kill herself!’

The proprietress looked over to where Xue was sitting, and craned her neck a little to see the screen. Obviously she too was preoccupied with the series. ‘I thought she was going to die in yesterday’s episode — so they dragged the suicide note out until today.’ The proprietress said to the driver, seemingly in apology, ‘It’s a really good show. I watch it every day.’ Then she lowered her voice and whispered in his ear, ‘In a minute I’ll set Xue to work on your back, and then you can get nice and relaxed. Xue’s not bad-looking is she?’

The driver hesitated for a second and said, ‘She wants to watch the programme. Let her watch. I’ll go into the back rooms and have a snooze.’

‘Now how could we just let you snooze?’ The proprietress gave the driver a knowing nudge. ‘Never you mind. When you’re as tired as that, you should get some proper relaxation. I’ll tell her what to do for you.’

The driver looked at the girl in front of the TV and then glanced out of the window. The rain had stopped briefly, but now it was back. There were no vehicles on the highway and with the rain falling it looked peaceful, like a black river, with little glittering lights. A chicken or duck belonging to the restaurant had ventured on to the highway and was taking a leisurely walk. The driver looked out at the sparsely planted mahogany and pagoda trees lining the road — they were only about half the height of a man — and he reckoned they had just been planted when he last called here about a year ago. He suddenly recalled that the place was called Weeping Willow. How come there wasn’t a single weeping willow to be seen?

‘Why is this place called Weeping Willow?’ he mumbled, but the proprietress didn’t hear. She’d already resumed her place in front of the TV and was staring at the flickering screen while spitting out sunflower seed shells. The girl called Xue was now sitting on the counter. Apart from her black silk stockings and the little pearls embroidered on them, the driver could see only the side of her face and her back; her rounded breasts were carefully concealed by her sleeveless top, like corn in its husk. She had put her hands underneath her legs and was sitting on them, and it seemed to him that he had seen this posture before — surely the Xue he remembered had sat like that? Maybe she was the same girl he had met last time after all. Or maybe he was mistaken; after working as a long-distance driver for so many years, the girls he knew from roadside inns were beyond counting. What perplexed him was Xue’s attitude towards him; if it was the same girl, she ought to have recognized him. Last year in Weeping Willow the Xue he had met was a tearful country girl; totally clueless, like a lamb being led to the sacrificial slaughter for eighty bucks. He hadn’t even done anything to her; her tears and meek acquiescence had moved him to compassion. He had done nothing, but he had still paid, and even given a tip. He remembered how Xue had clumsily kissed him on the face to express her gratitude, saying, ‘Mister, I’ll never forget you all my life. You’re a nice man.’ Of course he was a nice man: he hadn’t done anything, but had still paid, and he felt satisfied when he thought of that. He had been positive that Xue in Weeping Willow would remember him, and so he felt a double sense of loss now: he couldn’t be sure if it was the same girl, but she didn’t seem to know him.

The room’s furnishings were shabby and rustic: an old-fashioned slatted bed, a washstand and basin; walls covered with posters of stars from Taiwan and Hong Kong. The plastic matting had just been scrubbed and was slippery to walk on. He saw they still had the kind of mosquito net that had long since disappeared from the big cities hanging from the ceiling over the bed. It all felt very familiar, although he didn’t remember there being any such net last year, but that might have been because it was autumn then. The driver crawled under the mosquito net and checked everything with his hands; the bedding seemed clean and had been sprayed with perfume. Slowly he lay down and heaved a sigh; he knew what the proprietress was going to fix up for him, what it was he was waiting for, and while he waited, he combed his hair back with his hand. What was different from other times in similar roadside inns was the heaviness of his heart. This time, he was waiting for something without really knowing whether he wanted it.

Xue came into the room carrying a Thermos. It was obvious that she had been hectored inside by the proprietress as she didn’t look willing and the smile on her face was stiff. ‘Have a wash first,’ she said from outside the mosquito net, ‘orders from the boss. She says you’re to have a wash.’

‘What am I going to wash? You mean my feet?’

Xue stood there awkwardly, saying nothing. It was clear from her expression that she was being forced to attend to him.

‘What do you want me to wash? Come on, tell me.’ The driver pushed his face out of the net. He lowered his eyes when he saw that she had no intention of answering, pulled his head back and said, ‘I won’t wash. I’m not dirty, so why should I wash?’

Xue said, ‘It’s not my business if you want to be filthy. In any case, I’ll tell you straight out, I’m not on night shift, I don’t do that stuff.’

‘What stuff is it you don’t do?’ the driver chuckled inside his net and said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like you before. If you don’t do anything, why are you here? Get me the boss.’

‘No! I didn’t mean to offend you.’ Outside the net, Xue’s voice had suddenly grown milder, more defensive. She put the Thermos on the edge of the bed, and seemed to be pondering something. Then, hesitantly, she said, ‘Look, if you don’t want to wash, then don’t. I’ll wash your feet for you, I’ll massage your back, I’ll even scratch you where it itches if you want, but you have to promise me something, OK?’

‘What are you making such a big deal of it for? I just want to relax. I’m hardly going to romance you, am I? What am I supposed to promise you anyway?’

‘Fifteen minutes,’ Xue said. ‘Fifteen minutes, OK? After that I’m going next door to watch TV, and you won’t tell the boss.’

‘No way.’ The driver, having now understood what she was after, could not suppress a smile. Mimicking the girl’s voice, he repeated, ‘No way!’ And then, ‘Fifteen minutes, enough to relax me? How about I only pay half, then?’