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Lena St. Cir
When I was little, ther told great-grandfather had sentenced a beggar to die in the worst possible way, and that ter the dead n ca bad killed great-grandfather. Either that, or he died of influenza oer.
I used to py out the beggars st nts oer and ain in head. In nd, I saw the eecutiorip off the ns shirt and lead hiinto the open yard. quot;This traitor,quot; read the eecutioner, quot;is senteo die the death of a thousand cuts.quot; But before huld een raise the sharp sword to whittle his life away, they found the beggars nd had already broken into a thousand pieces. A few days ter, great-grandfather looked up frohis books and saw this sa n looking like a sshed ase hastily put back together. quot;As the sword was cutting do;quot; said the ghost, quot;I thought this was the worst I would eer hae to endure. But I was wrong. The worst is oher side.quot; And the dead n erabsp; great-grandfather with the jagged pieces of his arand pulled hithrough the wall, to show hiwhat he ant.
I once asked ther how he really died. She said, quot;In bed, ery quickly, after being sick for only two days.quot;
quot;No, no, I aher n. How was he killed? Did they slice off his skin first? Did they use a cleaer to chop up his bones? Did he screaand feel all ohousand cuts?quot;
quot;Annh! Why do you Aris hae only these rbid thoughts in your nd?quot; cried ther in ese. quot;That n has been dead for alst seenty years. What does it tter how he died?quot;
I always thought it ttered, to know what is the worst possible thing that happen to you, to know how you aoid it, to not be drawn by the gic of the unspeakable. Because, een as a young child, uld sehe unspoken terrors that surrounded our house, the ohat chased ther until she hid in a secret dark er of her nd. And still they found her. I watched, oer the years, as they deoured her, piece by piece, until she disappeared and beca a ghost.
As I reer it, the dark side of ther sprang frothe basent in our old house in Oaknd. I was fie and ther tried to hide it fro. She barricaded the door with a wooden chair, secured it with a and two types of key locks. And it beca so sterious that I spent all energies unraeling this door, until the day I was finally able to pry it open with sll fingers, only to iediately fall headlong into the dark chas And it was only after I stopped sg—I had seen the blood of nose on thers shoulder—only then did ther tell about the bad n who lied in the basent and why I should neer open the dain. He had lied there for thousands of years, she said, and was so eil and hungry that had ther not rescued so quickly, this bad n would hae pnted fie babies in and theen us all in a siurse al, tossing our bones on the dirty floor.
And after that I began to see terrible things. I saw these things with ese eyes, the part of I got fro ther. I saw deils dang feerishly beh a hole I had dug in the sandbo. I saw that lightning had eyes and searched to strike down little children. I saw a beetle wearing the face of a child, which I protly squashed with the wheel of tricycle. And when I beca older, uld see things that Causasian girls at school did not. Monkey rings that would split in two and send a swinging child hurtling through space. Tether balls thauld spsh a girls head all oer the pyground in front of ughing friends.
I didnt tell anyone about the things I saw, not een ther. Most people didnt know I was half ese, ybe because st na is St. Cir. When people first saw , they thought I looked like father, English-Irish, big-boned and delicate at the sa ti. But if they looked really close, if they khat they were there, theuld see the ese parts. Instead of haing cheeks like fathers sharp-edged points, ne were soth as beach pebbles. I didnt hae his straw-yellow hair or his white ski c looked too pale, like sothing that was once darker and had faded in the sun.
And eyes, e eyes, no eyelids, as if they were cared on a jack-o-ntern with two swift cuts of a short knife. I used to push eyes in on the sides to ke therounder. Or Id open theery wide until uld see the white parts. But when I walked around the house like that, father asked why I looked so scared.
I hae a photo of ther with this sa scared look. My father said the picture was taken when Ma was first released froAngel Isnd Iigration Station. She stayed there for three weeks, until theuld process her papers aerne whether she was a War Bride, a Dispced Person, a Student, or the wife of a ese-Ari citizen. My father said they didnt hae rules for dealing with the ese wife of a Caucasian citizen. Sohow, in the end, they decred her a Dispced Person, lost in a sea of iigration categories.
My ther alked about her life in a, but father said he saed her froa terrible life there, sedy shuld not speak about. My father proudly nad her in her iigration papers: Betty St. Cir, crossing out her gien na of Gu Ying-ying. And the down the wrong birthyear, 1916 instead of 1914. So, with the sweep of a pen, ther lost her na and beca a Dragon instead of a Tiger.
In this picture you see why ther looks dispced. She is clutg a rge cshaped bag, as though soo steal this froher as well if she is less watchful. She has on an ankle-length ese dress with dest ents at the side. And on top she is wearing a Westernized suit jacket, awkwardly stylish on thers sll body, with its padded shoulders, wide pels, and oersize cloth buttons. This was thers wedding dress, a gift fro father. In this outfit she looks as if she were her ing fronoing to sopce. Her is bent down and you see the precise part in her hair, a white line drawn froaboe her left brow thehe bck horizon of her head.
Ahough her head is bowed, hule i, her eyes are staring up past the cara, wide open.
quot;Why does she look scared?quot; I asked father.
And father epined: It was only because he said quot;Cheese,quot; and ther was struggling to keep her eyes open until the fsh went off, teer.
My ther often looked this way, waiting for sothing to happen, wearing this scared look. Only ter she lost the struggle to keep her eyes open.
quot;Dont look at her,quot; said ther as we walked through atown in Oaknd. She had grabbed hand and pulled close to her body. And ourse I looked. I saw a won sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a building. She was old and young at the sa ti, with dull eyes as though she had not slept for ny years. And her feet and her hands—the tips were as bck as if she had dipped thein India ink. But I khey were rotted.
quot;What did she do to herself?quot; I whispered to ther.
quot;She t a bad n,quot; said ther. quot;She had a baby she didnt want.quot;
And I khat was not true. I knew ther de up anything to waro help aoid so unknown danger. My ther saw danger ihing, een in other ese people. Where we lied and shopped, eeryone spoke tonese lish. My ther was froWushi, near Shanghai. So she spoke Mandarin and a little bit of English. My father, who spoke only a few ed ese epressions, insisted ther learn English. So with hi she spoke in ods aures, looks and silences, and sotis a bination of English punctuated by hesitations and ese frustration: quot;Shwo buchuiquot;—Words ot e out. So father would put words ih.
quot;I think Mois trying to say shes tired,quot; he would whisper when ther beca ody.
quot;I think shes sayihe best darn faly iry!quot; hed eciwhen she haoked a wonderfully fragrant al.
But with , when we were alone, ther would speak in ese, saying things fatheuld not possibly igine. uld uand the words perfectly, but not the anings. Ohought led to another without e.
quot;You st not walk in any dire but to school and bae,quot; warned ther when she decided I was old enough to walk by self.
quot;Why?quot; I asked.
quot;You t uand these things,quot; she said.
quot;Why not?quot;
quot;Because I haent put it in your .quot;
quot;Why not?quot;
quot;Aii-ya! Such questions! Because it is too terrible to sider. A n grab you off the streets, sell you to soone else, ke you hae a baby. Then youll kill the baby. And when they find this baby in a garbage , then what be done? Youll go to jail, die there.quot;
I khis was not a true answer. But I also de up lies to preent bad things frohappening iure. I often lied when I had to transte for her, the endless for, instrus, notices froschool, telephone calls. quot;Shea yisz?quot;—What aning?—she asked when a n at a grocery store yelled at her for opening up jars to sll the insides. I was so earrassed I told her that ese people were not allowed to shop there. When the school sent a notie about a polio a;ar..;/aration, I told her the ti and pce, and added that all students were now required to use tal lunch boes, sihey had dered old paper bags carry polio ger.
quot;Were ing up in the world,quot; father proudly ann;bdo99lｉb?;/bdoouhis being the oasion of his protion to sales superisor of a clothing nufacturer. quot;Your ther is thrilled.quot;
And we did e up, across the bay to San Francisd up a hill in North Beach, to an Italian neighborhood, where the sidewalk was so steep I had to lean into the snt to get ho froschool each day. I was ten and I was hopeful that we ght be able to leae all the old fears behind in Oaknd.
The apartnt building was three stories high, tartnts per floor. It had a renoated fa鏰de, a ret yer of white st topped with ected rows of tal fire-escape dders. But i was old. The front door with its narroanes opened into a sty lobby that slled of eerybodys life ed together. Eerybody ant the nas on the front door o their little buzzers: Anderson, Giordino, Hayn, Rii, Sorci, and our . Cir. We lied on the ddle floor, stuck betweeoking slls that floated up a sounds that drifted down. My bedroofaced the street, and at night, in the dark, uld see in nd another life. Cars struggling to cli the steep, fog-shrouded hill, gunning their deep engines and spinning their wheels. Loud, happy people, ughing, puffing, gasping: quot;Are we alst there?quot; A beagle scraling to his feet to start his yipping yowl, answered a few seds ter by fire truck sirens and an angry won hissing, quot;Say! Bad dog! Hush no;quot; And with all this soothing predictability, I would soon fall asleep.
My ther was not happy with the apartnt, but I didhat at first. When we ed in, she busied herself with gettiled, arranging the furniture, unpag dishes, hanging pictures on the wall. It took her about one week. And soon after that, when she and I were walking to the bus stop, she t a n who threw her off bance.
He was a red-faced ese n, wobbling down the sidewalk as if he were lost. His runny eyes saw us and he quickly stood up straight and threw out his ar, shouting, quot;I found you! Suzie Wong, girl of drea! Hah!quot; And with his ar and uth wide opearted rushing toward us. My ther dropped hand anered her body with her ar as if she were naked, uo do anything else. In that nt as she let go, I started to screa seeing this dangerous n lunging closer. I was still sg after two ughing n grabbed this n and, shaking hi said, quot;Joe, stop it, for Chrissake. Y that poor little girl and her id.quot;
The rest of the day—while riding on the bus, walking in and out of stores, shopping for our diher treled. She clutched hand so tightly it hurt. And once whe go of hand to take her wallet out of her purse at the cash register, I started to slip away to look at the dy. She grabbed hand back so fast I k that instant how sorry she was that she had not protected better.
As soon as we got hrocery shopping, she began to put the s aables away. And then, as if sothing were not quite right, she reed the s froone shelf and switched thewith the s on another. she walked briskly into the liing rooand ed a rge round rror frothe wall fag the front door to a wall by the sofa.
quot;What are you doing?quot; I asked.
She whispered sothing in ese about quot;things not being banced,quot; and I thought she ant how things looked, not how things fe. And thearted to e the rger pieces: the sofa, chairs, end tables, a ese scroll of goldfish.
quot;Whats going on here?quot; asked father when he ca ho frowork.
quot;Shes king it look better,quot; I said.
And the day, when I ca ho froschool, I saw she had again rearranged eerythihing was in a different pce. uld see that so terrible danger y ahead.
quot;Why are you doing this?quot; I asked her, afraid she would gie a true answer.
But she whispered so ese nonsense instead: quot;When sothing goes against your nature, you are not in bahis house was bui too steep, and a bad wind frothe top blows all your strength back down the hill. So you eer get ahead. You are always rolling backward.quot;
And thearted pointing to the walls and doors of the apartnt. quot;See how narrow this doorway is, like a hat has been strangled. And the kit faces this toilet roo so all your worth is flushed away.quot;
quot;But what does it an? Whats going to happen if its not banced?quot; I asked ther.
My father epi to ter. quot;Your ther is just practig her ing instincts,quot; he said. quot;All t it. Youll see when youre older.quot;
I wondered why father neer worried. Was he blind? Why did ther and I see sothing re?
And then a few days ter, I found out that father had been right all along. I ca ho froschool, walked into bedroo and saw it. My ther had rearranged roo My bed was no longer by the window but against a wall. And where bed once was—now there stood a used crib. So the secret danger was a ballooning stoch, the soury thers iance. My ther was going to hae a baby.
quot;See,quot; said father as we both looked at the crib. quot;ing instincts. Heres the . And heres where the baby goes.quot; He was so pleased with this iginary baby in the crib. He didnt see what I ter saw. My n to bu into things, into table edges as if she fot her stoch tained a baby, as if she were headed for trouble instead. She did not speak of the joys of haing a new baby; she talked about a heainess around her, about things being out of banot in harny with one another. So I worried about that baby, that it was stuewhere between thers stod this crib in roo
With bed against the wall, the nightti life of igination ged. Instead of street sounds, I began to hear oices ing frothe wall, frothe apart door. The front-door buzzer said a faly called the Sorcis lied there.
That first night I heard the ffled sound of soone shouting. A won? A girl? I fttened ear against the wall and heard a wons angry oice, then ahe higher oice of a girl shouting back. And now, the oices turoward , like fire sirens turning onto our street, and uld hear the ausations fading in and out:Who aI to say!…Why do you keep buggihe out and stay out!…rather die rather be dead!…Why doncha then!
Then I heard scraping sounds, sing, pushing and shouts and then whack! whack! whack! Soone was killing. Soone was being killed. Screa and shouts, a ther had a sword high aboe a girls head and was starting to slice her life away, first a braid, then her scalp, an eyebrow, a toe, a thu, the point of her cheek, the snt of her nose, until there was nothi, no sounds.
I y back against  illow, heart pounding at what I had just witnessed with ears and igination. A girl had just been killed. I hadnt been able to stop self frolistening. I wasnt able to stop what happehe horror of it all.
But the night, the girl ca back to life with re screa, re beating, her life once re in peril. And so it tinued, night after night, a oice pressing against wall tellihat this was the worst possible thing thauld happen: the terror of not knowing when it would eer stop.
Sotis I heard this loud faly across the hallway that separated our tartnt doors. Their apartnt was by the stairs going up to the third floor. Ours was by the stairs going down to the lobby.
quot;You break ys sliding down that banister, Igonna break your neck,quot; a won shouted. Her warnings were followed by the sounds of feet stoing oairs. quot;And doo pick up Pops suits!quot;
I kheir terrible life so ihat I was startled by the iediacy of seeing her in person for the first ti. I ulling the front door shut while bang an aroad of books. And when I turned around, I saw her ing toward just a few feet away and I shrieked and dropped eerything. She snickered and I knew who she was, this tall girl whoI guessed to be about twele, two years older than I was. Then she boed dowairs and I quickly gathered up books and followed her, careful to walk oher side of the street.
She didnt seelike a girl who had been killed a huis. I saw no traces of blood-stained clothes; she wore a crisp white blouse, a blue cardigaer, and a blue-greeed skirt. In fact, as I watched her, she seed quite happy, her two brown braids boung jauntily in rhythto her walk. And then, as if she khat I was thinking about her, she turned her head. She gae awl and quickly ducked down a side street and walked out of sight.
Eery ti I saw her after that, I would pretend to look down, busy rearranging books or the buttons on sweater, guiy that I khing about her.
My parents friends Auntie Su and Uncle ing picked up at school one day and took to the hospital to see ther. I khis was serious because eerything they said was unnecessary but spoken with sole iortance.
quot;It is now four oclock,quot; said Uncle ing, looking at his watch.
quot;The bus is neer on ti,quot; said Auntie Su.
When I isited ther in the hospital, she seed half asleep, tossing bad forth. And then her eyes popped open, staring at the ceiling.
quot;My fau, fau. I khis before it happened,quot; she babbled. quot;I did nothing to preent it.quot;
quot;Betty darling, Betty darling,quot; said father frantically. But ther kept shouting these ausations to herself. She grabbed hand and I realized her whole body was shaking. And then she looked at , in a strange way, as if she were begging for her life, as if uld pardon her. She was ling in ese.
quot;Lena, whats she saying?quot; cried father. For once, he had no words to put in thers uth.
And for once, I had no ready answer. It strubsp; that the worst possible thing had happehat what she had been fearing had e true. They were no longer warnings. And so I listened.
quot;When the baby was ready to be born,quot; she rred, quot;uld already hear hisg inside wo. His little fingers, they were ging to stay inside. But the he doctor, they said to push hiout, ke hie. And when his head popped out, the nurses cried, His eyes are wide open! He sees eerything! Then his body slipped out and he y oable, steang with life.
quot;When I looked at hi I saw right away. His tiny legs, his sll ar, his thin neck, and then a rge head so terrible uld not stop looking at it. This babys eyes were open and his head—it en too! uld see all the way back, to where his thoughts were supposed to be, and there was nothing there. No brain, the doctor shouted! His head is just ay eggshell!
quot;And then this baby, ybe he heard us, his rge head seed to fill with hot air and rise up frothe table. The head turo one side, then to the other. It looked right through . I knew huld see eerything inside . How I had gien no thought to killing other son! How I had gien no thought to haing this baby!quot;
uld not tell father what she had said. He was so sad already with this ety crib in his nd. Hould I tell hishe was crazy?
So this is what I transted for hi quot;She says we st all think ery hard about haing another baby. She says she hopes this baby is ery happy oher side. And she thinks we should leae now and go hae dinner.quot;
After the baby died, ther fell apart, not all at once, but piece by piece, like ptes falling off a shelf one by one. I neer knew when it would happen, so I beerous all the ti, waiting.
Sotis she would start to ke dinner, but would stop halfway, the water running full steain the sink, her knife poised in the air oer half-chopped egetables, silent, tears flowing. And sotis wed be eating and we would hae to stop and put our forks down because she had dropped her fato her hands and was saying. quot;Mei gwansyiquot;—It doesnt tter. My father would just sit there, trying to figure out what it was that didnt tter this ch. And I would leae the table, knowing it would happen again, always a i.
My father seed to fall apart in a different way. He tried to ke things better. But it was as if he were running to catch things before they fell, only he would fall before huld catything.
quot;Shes just tired,quot; he epio when we were eating di the Gold Spike, just the two of us, because ther was lying like a statue on her bed. I knew he was thinking about her because he had this worried face, st;dfn;/dfnaring at his die as if it were filled with wor instead of spaghetti.
At ho, ther looked at eerything around her with ety eyes. My father would e ho frowork, patting head, saying, quot;Hows big girl,quot; but always looking past , toward ther. I had such fears inside, not in head but in stoch. uld no longer see what was so scary, but uld feel it. uld feel eery little ent in our silent house. And at night, uld feel the crashing loud fights oher side of bedroowall, this girl beien to death. In bed, with the b edge lying ay neck, I used to wonder which was worse, our side or theirs? And after thinking about this for a while, after feeling sorry for self, it forted sowhat to think that this girl door had a re unhappy life.
But one night after dinner our doorbell rang. This was curious, because usually people rang the buzzer downstairs first.
quot;Lenauld you see who it is?quot; called father frothe kit. He was doing the dishes. My ther was lying in bed. My ther was now always quot;restingquot; and it was as if she had died and bee a liing ghost.
I opehe door cautiously, then swung it wide open with surprise. It was the girl fronbsp; door. I stared at her with undisguised azent. She was sling back at , and she looked ruffled, as if she had fallen out of bed with her clothes on.
quot;Who is it?quot; called father.
quot;Its door!quot; I shouted to father. quot;Its…quot;
quot;Teresa,quot; she offered quickly.
quot;Its Teresa!quot; I yelled bay father.
quot;Inite her in,quot; father said at alst the sa nt that Teresa squeezed past and into our apartnt. Without being inited, she started walking toward bedroo I closed the front door and followed her two brown braids that were boung like whips beating the back of a horse.
She walked right oer to window and began to open it. quot;What are you doing?quot; I cried. She sat on the window ledge, looked out oreet. And then she looked at and started to giggle. I sat down on bed watg her, waiting for her to stop, feeling thld air blow in frothe dark opening.
quot;Whats so funny?quot; I finally said. It ourred to that perhaps she was ughing at , at life. Maybe she had listehrough the wall and heard nothing, the stagnant silence of our unhappy house.
quot;Why are you ughing?quot; I dended.
quot;My ther kicked out,q;tt99ｌｉｂ?tuot; she finally said. She talked with a swagger, seeng to be proud of this fact. And then she snickered a little and said, quot;We had this fight and she pushed out the door and locked it. So now she thinks Igoing to wait outside the door until Isorry enough to apologize. But Inot going to.quot;
quot;Then what are you going to do?quot; I asked breathlessly, certain that her ther would kill her food this ti.
quot;Igoing to use your fire escape to cli bato bedrooquot; she whispered back. quot;And shes going to wait. And whes worried, shell open the front door. Only I wohere! Ill be in bedroo in bed.quot; She giggled again.
quot;Wont she be d when she finds you?quot;
quot;Nah, shell just be gd Inot dead or sothing. Oh, shell pretend to be d, sort of. We do this kind of stuff all the ti.quot; And then she slipped through window and soundlessly de her way bae.
I stared at the open window for a long ti, w about her. Hould she go back? Didnt she see how terrible her life was? Didnt she reize it would op?
I y down on bed waiting to hear the screa and shouts. A night I was still awake when I heard the loud oiet door. Mrs. Sorci was shouting and g, You stupida girl. You alst gae a heart attack. And Teresa was yelling back, ulda been killed. I alst fell and broke neck. And then I heard theughing and g, g and ughing, shouting with loe.
I was stunned. uld alst see thehugging and kissing one another. I was g for joy with the because I had been wrong.
And in ry I still feel the hope that beat ihat night. I g to this hope, day after day, night after night, year after year. I would watbsp; ther lying in her bed, babbling to herself as she sat on the sofa. A I khat this, the worst possible thing, would one day stop. I still saw bad things in nd, but now I found ways to ge the I still heard Mrs. Sord Teresa haing terrible fights, but I saw sothing else.
I saw a girl pining that the pain of not being seen was unbearable. I saw the ther lying in bed in her long flowing robes. Then the girl pulled out a sharp sword and told her ther, quot;Then you st die the death of a thousand cuts. It is the only way to sae you.quot;
The ther aepted this and closed her eyes. The sword ca down and sliced bad forth, up and down, whish! whish! whish! And the ther scread and shouted, cried out in terror and pain. But when she opened her eyes, she saw no blood, no shredded flesh.
The girl said, quot;Do you see no;quot;
The ther nodded: quot;Now I hae perfederstanding. I hae already eperiehe worst. After this, there is no worst possible thing.quot;
And the daughter said, quot;Now you st e back, to the other side. Then you see why you were wrong.quot;
And the girl grabbed her thers hand and pulled her through the wall.
百度搜索 The Joy Luck Club 或 The Joy Luck Club 本站 即可找到本书最新章节.