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An-Mei Hsu
When I was a young girl in a, graold ther was a ghost. This did not an ther was dead. In those days, a ghost was anything we were forbidden to talk about. So I knew Popo wanted tet ther on purpose, and this is how I ca to reer nothing of her. The life that I knew began in the rge house in Ningpo with thld hallways and tall stairs. This was uncle and aunties faly house, where I lied with Popo and little brother.
But I often heard stories of a ghost who tried to take children away, especially strong-willed little girls who were disobedient. Many tis Popo said aloud to all whuld hear that brother and I had fallen out of the bowels of a stupid goose, two eggs that nobody wanted, not een good enough to crack oer rice pe. She said this so that the ghosts would not steal us away. So you see, to Popo we were also ery precious.
All life, Popo scared . I beca een re scared when she grew sick. This was in 1923, when I was nine years old. Popo had swollen up like an oerripe squash, so full her flesh had gone soft and rotten with a bad sll. She would call into her roowith the terrible stink and tell stories. quot;An-i,quot; she said, calling by school na. quot;Listen carefully.quot; She told stories uld not uand.
One was about a greedy girl whose belly grew fatter and fatter. This girl poisoned herself after refusing to say whose child she carried. When the nks cut open her body, they found inside a rge white winter lon.
quot;If yreedy, what is inside you is what kes you always hungry,quot; said Popo.
Ai, Popo told about a girl who refused to listen to her elders. One day this bad girl shook her head so igorously to refuse her aunties sile request that a little white ball fell froher ear and out poured all her brains, as clear as chi broth.
quot;Your own thoughts are so busy swiing ihat eerything else gets pushed out,quot; Popo told .
Right before Popo beca so sick shuld no longer speak, she pulled close and talked to about ther. quot;Neer say her na,quot; she warned. quot;To say her na is to spit on your fathers grae.quot;
The only father I knew was a big painting that hung in the in hall. He was a rge, unsling n, unhappy to be so still on the wall. His restless eyes followed around the house. Een fro rooat the end of the hall, uld see fathers watg eyes. Popo said he watched for any signs of disrespect. So sotis, when I had thrown pebbles at other children at school, or had lost a book through carelessness, I would quickly walk by father with a know-nothing look and hide in a er of roowhere huld not see face.
I fe our house was so unhappy, but little brother did not seeto think so. He rode his bicycle through thurtyard, chasing chis and other children, ughing oer whies shrieked the loudest. Ihe quiet house, he jued up and down on Uncle and Aunties best feather sofas when they were away isiting ilge friends.
But een brothers happiness went away. O suer day when Popo was already ery sick, we stood outside watg a ilge funeral processi by ouurtyard. Just as it passed ate, the heay frad picture of the dead n toppled froits stand ao the dusty ground. An old dy scread and fainted. My brhed and Auntie spped hi
My auntie, who had a ery bad teer with children, told hihe had no shou, no respect for aors or faly, just like our ther. Auntie had a tongue like hungry scissors eating silk cloth. So when brae her a sour look, Auntie said our ther was so thoughtless she had fled north in a big hurry, without taking the dowry furniture froher rriage to father, without bringien pairs of siler chopsticks, without paying respey fathers grae and those of our aors. When brother aused Auening our ther away, Auntie shouted that our ther had rried a n nad Wu Tsing who already had a wife, two es, and other bad children.
And when brother shouted that Auntie was a talking chi without a head, she pushed brainst the gate and spat on ..is face.
quot;You throw strong words at , but you are nothing,quot; Auntie said. quot;You are the son of a ther who has so little respect she has bee ni, a traitor to our aors. She is so beh others that een the deil st look down to see her.quot;
That is when I began to uand the stories Popo taught , the lessons I had to learn for ther. quot;When you lose your face, An-i,quot; Popo often said, quot;it is like dropping your neckce down a well. The only way you get it back is to fall in after it.quot;
Now uld igine ther, a thoughtless won who ughed and shook her head, who dipped her chopstiy tis to eat another piece of sweet fruit, happy to be free of Popo, her unhappy husband on the wall, awo disobedient children. I fe unlucky that she was ther and unlucky that she had left us. These were the thoughts I had while hiding in the er of roowhere fatheuld not watch .
I was sitting at the top of the stairs when she arried. I k was ther een though I had seen her in all ry. She stood just ihe doorway so that her face beca a dark shadow. She was ch taller than auntie, alst as tall as uncle. She looked straoo, like the ssionary dies at our school who were i and bossy ioo-tall shoes, fn clothes, and short hair.
My auntie quickly looked away and did not call her by na or offer her tea. An old serant hurried away with a displeased look. I tried to keep ery still, but heart fe like crickets scratg to get out of a cage. My ther st hae heard, because she looked up. And when she did, I saw own face looking back at . Eyes that stayed wide open and saw too ch.
In Popos roo auntie protested, quot;Too te, too te,quot; as ther approached the bed. But this did not stop ther.
quot;e back, stay here,quot; rred ther to Popo. quot;Nuyer is here. Your daughter is back.quot; Popos eyes were open, but now her nd ran in ny different dires, not staying long enough to see anything. If Popos nd had been clear she would hae raised her two ar and flung ther out of the roo
I watched ther, seeing her for the first ti, this pretty won with her white skin and oal faot too round like Aunties or sharp like Popos. I saw that she had a long white neck, just like the goose that had id . That she seed to float bad forth like a ghost, dippinol cloths to y on Popos bloated face. As she peered into Popos eyes, she clucked soft worried sounds. I watched her carefully, yet it was her oice that fused , a faliar sound froa fotten drea
When I returo rooter that afternoon, she was there, standing tall. And because I reer Popo told not to speak her na, I stood there, te. She took hand and led to the settee. And then she also sat down as though we had dohis eery day.
My n to loosen braids and brush hair with long sweeping strokes.
quot;An-i, you hae been a good daughter?quot; she asked, sling a secret look.
I looked at her with know-nothing face, but inside I was treling. I was the girl whose belly held lorless winter lon.
quot;An-i, you know who I aquot; she said with a sllld in her oice. This ti I did not look for fear head would burst and brains would dribble out of ears.
She stopped brushing. And then uld feel her long soth fingers rubbing and searg under , finding the spot that was soth-neck scar. As she rubbed this spot, I beca ery still. It was as though she were rubbing the ry bato skin. And then her hand dropp;rk;/rked and she began to cry, ing her hands around her own neck. She cried with a wailing oice that was so sad. And then I reered the dreawith thers oice.
I was four years old. My was just aboe the diable, and uld see baby brother sitting on Popos p, g with an angry face. uld hear oices praising a steang dark soup brought to the table, oices rring politely, quot;g! g!quot;—Please, eat!
And thealking stopped. My uncle rose frohis chair. Eeryouro look at the door, where a tall won stood. I was the only one wh;big;/bigo spoke.
quot;Ma,quot; I had cried, rushing off chair, but auntie spped fad pushed back down. Now eeryone was standing up and shouting, and I heard thers oice g, quot;An-i! An-i!quot; Aboe this noise, Popos shrill oice spoke.
quot;Who is this ghost? Not an honored widow. Just a hree e. If you take your daughter, she will bee like you. No faeer able to lift up her head.quot;
Still ther shouted for to e. I reer her oice so clearly now. An-i! An-i! uld see thers face across the table. Between us stood the soup pot on its heay ey-pot stand—rog slowly, bad forth. And then with one shout this dark boiling soup spilled forward and fell all oer neck. It was as though eeryones anger were p all oer .
This was the kind of pain so terrible that a little child should neer reer it. But it is still in skins ry. I cried out loud only a little, because soon flesh began to burst inside and out and y breathing air.
uld not speak because of this terrible choking feeling. uld not see because of all the tears that poured out to wash away the pain. But uld hear oice. Popo and Auntie were shouting. And then thers oice went away.
Later that night Popos oice ca to .
quot;An-i, listen carefully.quot; Her oice had the salding tone she used when I ran up and down the hallway. quot;An-i, we hae de your dying clothes and shoes for you. They are all whittton.quot;
I listened, scared.
quot;An-i,quot; she rred, now ntly. quot;Your dying clothes are ery pin. They are not fancy, because you are still a child. If you die, you will hae a short life and you will still owe your faly a debt. Your funeral will be ery sll. Our ti for you will be ery short.quot;
And then Popo said sothing that was worse than the burning on neck.
quot;Een your ther has used up her tears a. If you do not get well soon, she will fet you.quot;
Popo was ery srt. I ca hurrying back frothe other world to find ther.
Eery night I cried so that both eyes and neck burned. o bed sat Popo. She would pouol wate;q;/qr oer neck frothe hollowed cup of a rge grapefruit. She would pour and pour until breathing beca soft and uld fall asleep. In the Popo would use her sharp fingernails like tweezers and peel off the dead ranes.
In two years ti, scar beca pale and shiny and I had no ry of ther. That is the way it is with a wound. The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so ch. And o is closed, you no longer see what is underh, what started the pain.
I worshipped this ther fro drea But the won standing by Popos bed was not the ther of ry. Yet I ca to loe this ther as well. Not because she ca to and begged tie her. She did not. She did not o epin that Popo chased her out of the house when I was dying. This I knew. She did not o tell she rried Wu Tsing to ege one unhappiness for another. I khis as well.
Here is how I ca to loe ther. How I saw in her own true nature. What was beh skin. Inside bones.
It was te at night when I went to Popos roo My auntie said it opos dying ti and I st show respect. I put on a dress and stood between auntie and u the foot of Popos bed. I cried a little, not too loud.
I saw ther oher side of the roo Quiet and sad. She waoking a soup, p herbs and dies into the steang pot. And then I saw her pull up her sleee and pull out a sharp knife. She put this knife on the softest part of her ar I tried to y eyes, buuld not.
And then ther cut a pieeat froher ar Tears poured froher fad blood spilled to the floor.
My ther took her flesh and put it in the soup. Shoked gi the aradition to try to cure her ther this o ti. She opened Popos uth, already too tight fr to keep her spirit in. She fed her this soup, but that night Popo fleith her illness.
Een though I was young, uld see the pain of the flesh and the worth of the pain.
This is how a daughter honors her ther. It is shou so deep it is in your bohe pain of the flesh is nothing. The pain you st fet. Because sotis that is the only way to reer what is in your bones. You st peel off your skin, and that of your ther, aher before her. Until there is nothing. No scar, no skin, no flesh.
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