2
SHOWDOWN WITH THE AMERICAN
MAIDEN-IN-THE MOON PLAYS JANE EYRE
This is the day that will supposedly determine my future.
I walk to the teaching building, climb to the second floor, and arrive at the English exam room. Outside the door, students wait, whispering, or practicing English phrases for one last time. My mouth feels dry. Occasionally I find myself holding my breaths. I keep rubbing my sweaty hands on my trousers.
My name is called. I clear my throat and straight my shirt before I walk inside.
“Hello,” the American says, standing up from his seat as I walk towards him. He extends his hand. “I’m Luke.”
His size is the first thing I take notice of. Next to me, he is like a pillar, or a lamp post on the street curb. His shoulders are so thick they bulge from beneath his navy-blue sports shirt. I’ve heard that Americans are generally bigger than Asians because they eat beef every day, whereas we eat vegetables and what little pork we can afford.
“How do you do?” I reply with a phrase I learned from the British textbook in high school. I try to shake the hand extended to me but only catch two fingers. His hand is so big it could clutch a volleyball. The back is covered with brown hair, which gradually becomes furry along the length of the arm—what an enormous length—condensing into a thicket under his Adam’s apple. The most distinctive feature are his intensely blue eyes beneath the well-defined bushy eyebrows. This is the first time I’ve ever seen blue eyes in person, which remind me of blue marbles children play with. I try not to stare at his eyes. He has a typical Westerner’s white skin, heavily tan. His forehead is broad and smooth. His nose is prominent and straight, which gives him a stubborn look. His hair, medium length, the color of chestnut shells, is unruly. He hardly looks like a teacher, more like someone who was recruited on the basketball court where he had invited himself to a local team that was scrimmaging, just because he, sweaty and smelly, spoke English.
I do indeed smell him, a smell that I can only imagine to be a combination of mothballs and hot Sichuan pepper.
He looks younger than I expected, but it’s hard to tell a foreigner’s age.
第二章
和美國人, Luke , 撕破臉
嫦娥扮演簡愛
今天應該是決定我前途的一天。
我走到教室樓，爬樓梯到第二層，來到英語測驗的教室。門外焦急等待的學生利用最後一分鍾練習英文句子。我感到口幹，偶爾不由自主的屏住呼吸，並不停地在褲子上擦手上的汗。
聽到叫我的名字，我清了清嗓子，拽了拽衣角就走進去了。
“你好，”那個美國人說， 從座位上站起來。我走向他時他一直在盯著我看，然後他把手伸給我，“我是Luke。”
我先注意到的是他的個頭。在我旁邊簡直像一個石柱或馬路沿的電線杆子。他的肩膀很寬很厚， 在他的衣服下麵鼓鼓的。 我聽說美國人都長得比亞洲人大， 因為他們每天吃牛肉， 不像我們大多吃蔬菜， 豬肉吃得到也很少。
“你好，” 我背了從高中英文課本裏學來的句子回答他。我去握他的手，卻隻抓住兩個手隻頭。他的手大的能抓住一個排球。手背上長滿了棕色的毛發，漸漸往胳膊上延伸_多麽粗的胳膊_發發到他脖子下麵，簡直就成了一個小草叢。我盡量不去看他的眼睛。這還是我第一次親眼看到藍眼睛， 使我想起小時候玩的藍色玻璃球。 他臉上是典型白人得皮膚，曬得發紅。 他的 鼻子的確挺大，很直，給人一種固執的印象。 他的頭發不長不短， 棕色， 有點亂。 他一點都不像老師， 倒像在籃球場上打球的時候被臨時拉下來—汗流浹背的樣子—借用到學校給我們考試， 僅僅因為他說英文。
的確我能聞到他身上的汗味，怪怪的，我想象 隻有衛生球和四川辣椒麵混合起來才產生的味。
他比我想象的年輕多了，但我還是猜不出他的年齡。
I nearly forget to tell him my name. “I. . . I am Chang-Er,” I hurry to say.
“Chang-Er,” he says awkwardly, scratching his head. Apparently, my name is difficult for him to pronounce. “Please have a seat.”
I sit on the edge of the bench and assume a fight-or-flight position. Sitting behind a desk, he lays his big hands flat on the desk. He makes me think of a giant hawk, but only a paper hawk. Inside there’s nothing but air, I tell myself, recalling VeVe’s words.
I notice a sheet of paper in front of him, likely the exam list. I wait for him to launch the first question, but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to do so. Instead, he stares at me, intently, a little too long. Already nervous, I become uncomfortable under his stare, tortured by my shyness. How long is he going to stare at me? Has he never seen a Chinese girl before?
“What does your name, Chang-Er, mean?” he asks. “I’m very curious. It’s my impression that all Chinese names have meanings.”
He clearly has forgotten to refer to the exam list. Whoever recruited him at the basketball court did not brief him properly. Surely, the meaning of my name is not among the questions on the list. But at least this is an easy one.
“It means Maiden-in-the Moon. Chang-Er is a name in a classic folklore. She is a princess banished to live in the moon alone for disobeying her mother.”
“Hmm, interesting. By ‘moon’ you mean the moon, as in the sun and the moon?” He looks amused, smiling a little. “In my understanding, ‘moon’ can mean different things in the Chinese culture.”
How does he know that much? “Moon means moon. Moon is moon. Sun is sun.” I feel stupid with my answer.
I never liked the name Chang-Er; it puzzles me that Ve-Ve—who does not lack imagination—gave me a name directly from a well-known fairy tale.
Luke chuckles, which annoys me.
“I go by Amei, though. You may forget about the moon from now on,” I say.
I like my nickname Amei, after mei-hua, the flower that blooms before all other flowers, as it begins to bloom in the winter. Though the female name mei is not uncommon, Ve-Ve still likes it for the connotation of nobility, purity, and resilience.
我想起來忘了告訴他我的名字。“我叫董嫦娥，”我匆匆的說。
“董—嫦—娥，” 籃球Luke笨拙地重複， 撓撓頭。 很明顯，我的名字對他有點困難。“請坐下，” 他說。
我坐在凳子邊上，做好了打不過就逃跑的姿勢。他穿著一件藍色帶黃條的運動衫， 坐在桌子後麵， 兩隻手放在桌子上。他的樣子使我想起一隻大老鷹。這時微微的話在我耳邊響起，我又想他隻是一個紙老鷹罷了， 裏麵全是空氣。
我注意到他麵前一張紙，大概上麵是考試題。我等他問第一個問題，可是他好像不著急。他盯著看過我，仔細地看，看的時間有點長。我本來就緊張，在他的凝視下，更加不自在起來。我天生的的羞怯也在折磨我。他要這樣看我多久，沒見過中國女孩嗎？
“你的名字，嫦娥，是什麽意思啊？” 他問。“我的印象是中國名字都有意義。”
他根本不看桌子上的考試題。我的名字什麽意思肯定不在考試題裏。不過這個問題很好回答。
“就是月亮女的意思，”我說。“嫦娥是一個童話裏的名字，天上的公主，因為違背了母王，被懲罰到月亮上獨守。”
“挺有意思。你說的月亮就是月亮和太陽的月亮嘛，”他笑著問我。“我的理解是在中國文化裏好像月亮有不同的象征。”
他怎末知道那麽多？我不知如何回答他，就用糟糕的英文說，“月亮是月亮，太陽是太陽。”我為我的回答感到非常愚蠢。
Luke笑了一聲，使我有點惱火。
“別人都叫我阿梅，”我趕快說，“你從現在起就忘了月亮這回事兒吧，叫我阿梅好了。”
我很不喜歡嫦娥這個名字。微微怎末給我起了這樣一個俗氣的名字？我更喜歡我的小名，阿梅。 取梅花之意。 微微說梅花是百花之首， 唯一在寒冬裏開的花。盡管叫“梅”的人很多， 但我喜歡她的高貴，純潔， 又堅強的品性。 不過眼下我不想把這些都告訴一個陌生的美國人
“Amei,” Luke repeats to himself, slowly.
“The name Amei doesn’t have a meaning,” I say quickly.
I don’t want to explain my nickname to this American stranger just yet.
“Oh, I see.” He nods. “Where are you from?” Another strange question.
“I am from Shanghai,” I reply. VeVe wants me to tell people I originally came from Shanghai, as if being born in the largest city in the country would add to my worth and outweigh our meager lives here in Hesin.
“Why do you want to be in Class Zero?” he asks, finally remembering the exam list on his desk. He sits with a straight back, a little stiff, looking very serious. Trying too hard to act the role of a professor, I think.
Class Zero is a special class intended for future medical professionals to receive rigorous English training so that we will not lag behind modern medicine. Graduates will likely have better job opportunities. But all of this is hard for me to put into English without sounding foolish.
“Well?” Luke the American says.
It was Hesin Medical College’s idea to create this freshman class in the first place. This question is absurd, as if I am being offered an apple and then asked why I want to eat it.
The night before the exam, VeVe and I prayed to Buddha, chanting:
Na mu neo ho lei gen kio
Na mu neo ho lei gen kio
Na mu neo ho lei gen kio. . . ..
I asked Buddha to show mercy on me at the English exam. I doubted that VeVe was praying for the same thing, though I did hear her say “American” several times. She kept her voice low.
“You want to be in Class Zero, because. . . ?” the American repeats his previous question.
He has an accent very different from the BBC English I listen to on tapes, and not quite the same as Voice of America that I steal on the shortwave radio with government-imposed statics in the background—the only thing that comes through clearly is Tom Sawyer tricking his playmate, Ben, into painting Aunt Polly’s fence, which the government probably does not consider Western poison to our minds.
I look around the room. There is a Chinese professor testing other students on the opposite side, and they seem to be enjoying themselves given their smiling faces.
“Well, because it’s the best class with the best teachers,” I say, “and I like the opportunity of learning English. I like the language.”
He seems to relax a little, satisfied, I think.
He refers to the exam list. “How do you like living in Hesin?”
“阿梅，” 他慢慢地重複著。
“阿梅這個名字沒有什麽意思，”我趕快說。
“奧。“ 他點點頭。 你是從哪裏來的呢，Luke 這個美國人又問。我從上海來的，我回答。微微要我告訴別人是在上海出生的，好像從一個大城市裏來會增加我的價值。
“你為什麽要進到零班，” 他掃了一眼桌上的考試題， 第一次問了一個該問的問題。他直了直腰，顯得有點僵硬，挺嚴肅的樣子，好像剛想起他應該裝成一個教授的樣子。
學校自己開這個班，又問我們為什末想進這個班。這有點荒唐。好像別人給你一個蘋果，又問你為什麽要吃它。零班是一個特殊班，為了培養會英文的醫學人員，以至於我們國家的醫學不會落後。畢業後，我們這些人會有更好的工作。但是我不會用英語翻譯這個意思而顯得不愚蠢。
“說嘛，” Luke 催我。
昨天晚上，我跟著微微一起禱告菩薩。南無阿彌陀佛，南無阿彌陀佛，南無阿彌陀佛。我求菩薩在英語考試時發慈悲。我聽到微微說美國人這個字說了幾次，但我不相信她和我求菩薩是一件事。她的聲音一直很低。
“你要進零班是因為。。。？” 籃球Luke重複了一下剛才的問題。他的口音和我經常聽的BBC 英語很不一樣，和美國之聲也有差距。美國之聲是我從AM頻道上偷聽的。背景有好多幹擾。好像連湯姆騙他的夥伴兒替他刷姨媽的牆的故事也被認為是西方流毒，可以汙染我們的心靈。
我看了一下教室的周圍。一個中國老師在對麵測試其他同學。那些同學顯得很從容且麵帶笑容。顯然，老師沒有難為他們。
“怎麽說呢，” 我想辦法回答Luke。 “也許，因為這是一個最好的班，有最好的老師。而且我很喜歡學英文。我喜歡這個語言。”
籃球Luke放鬆了一點，我想他大概對我的回答挺滿意。他又看了一眼考試題，問， “你喜歡在這個城市生活嗎？”
I’m tempted to tell him about my dislike of the dusty wind, the crowded buses, and rude postal workers. Do I dare tell him that I long to explore the outside world? That I picture myself leaving home at eighteen to strike out on my own with nothing but a quilt bundle on my back and Jane Eyre—she was eighteen—in my pocket?
Of course it would be embarrassing to reveal that much to this strange American named Luke—I haven’t decided if I like the name or not—even if I could put them together in English.
“I like Hesin ever so much,” I say, repeating what I’ve memorized, “because it is a glorious city under the great socialist construction. Many victories have taken place under the leadership of the communist party.”
He smiles, as if amused by my seriousness, but he quickly checks himself and puts on a straight face. For the subsequent questions regarding the climate and some geography, I am able to answer without much difficulty.
“Why do you want to be a doctor?” That sounds like an important question.
I bite my lips. Truth is I never wanted to be a doctor. VeVe said that she and my father—on his death bed—reached an agreement that I should be a physician when I grew up. Even though a physician’s income is not much higher than that of a street vendor selling jewelry, VeVe says that a doctor can always count on people getting sick. It is like holding a bowl that is always filled with food. She adds that she has had nightmares of me carrying large rocks in a gravel pit with my chopstick-thin arms. When I asked her about my father’s thoughts, she said that he was concerned with my safety, saying—once again, on his death bed—that medicine had little to do with dangerous politics.
“Well?” The American leans forward.
“I want to be a doctor because I want to serve the people wholeheartedly, especially poor and lower-middle peasants from the remote countryside. I might even volunteer to work in the backward area of the Gobi Desert.”
“The Gobi Desert? Seriously? I like deserts myself,” he looks animated. “The Rocky Mountains and Sierra Nevada are gorgeous. Have you been to any of those?”
I simply shake my head. Does he really not know that traveling is not one of the events in our lives, least of all overseas traveling? As for me, VeVe can’t even afford to buy me a train ticket to Qingdao, a pretty city on the coast not too far from Hesin. But how do I explain this to Luke, the American, whom I’ve decided to be no more than five-years older than I?
不知為什麽，我真想告訴他我有多麽厭惡這個城市的帶灰塵的風，擁擠的公共汽車，和粗魯的郵局人員。我還想大膽地告訴他我一直想到外麵的世界看一看呢，而且除了扛一卷被子，什麽都不帶，隻在口袋裏塞一本簡愛。
我當然不好意思向一個叫Luke的陌生美國人吐露這麽多。何況我也
不會用英文表達出來。到現在我還沒有決定我是否喜歡露Luke這個名字。
我隻好撒謊。
“我很喜歡這個城市，” 我說，“它是在黨的領導下建立的一座美麗的城市。”這些都是我從高中英文課本裏背下來的。
他笑了， 可能被我的呆板逗笑了。 但他馬上意識到了，又換上一副嚴肅的麵孔。下麵的問題是關於天氣啊，還有一些地理問題啊。我都很自如地回答了他。
“你為什麽要當醫生呢，” 他又問。
這像是一個挺重要的問題。事實是我從來就沒想當醫生。微微說，她和我爸爸當初一致決定我長大後當一個醫生。偉偉說當時爸爸正在床上彌留之際，快死了。微微認為當醫生不會失業，永遠會指望生病的人，就像手裏捧著一個滿滿的金飯碗。她還說經常做噩夢，夢見我用像筷子一樣細的胳膊在石曠工裏扛比我還大的石頭。當我問到他我爸爸的想法，她草草的說，他考慮的是我的安全。至於當醫生為何安全他沒能夠解釋，不是躺在床上正在死去嗎。
因為我沒馬上回答，他往前傾了傾身。“沒想過嗎？”他那麽近，我又聞到他身上的衛生球和四川辣椒混合味。
“我想當醫生，是因為我想全心全意的為人民服務，我說，特別是邊遠地區的窮苦人民。我也有心自願去落後的戈壁灘沙漠做一個醫療者。”
當然，這些話都是我在高中英文書裏麵背下來的。隻有戈壁灘沙漠是我自己加進去的。
“戈壁灘沙漠？真的？我也喜歡沙漠。” 他顯得很高興。“我去過咯岐山和四峨螺泥窪達的沙漠。 非常壯觀。你有沒有去過？”
我搖了搖頭。他真的不知道旅遊不是我們生活的一部分嗎？更何況到外國去？微微連一張到我一直向往的上海的火車票都買不起。可是我怎樣向這個美國籃球小夥解釋呢？ 我現在斷定他比我大概大不過五歲。
“Have you been to the countryside?” Luke asks. “What medical care do the peasants have?”
I don’t know if those questions are on the list. By now, I believe he should be pleased with my English and let me go. When his blue eyes pierce into mine, I suspect he might be annoyed rather than satisfied with my good performance, as if it would please him to see me struggle. Fiend! Fiend! I cry inwardly—reminded of this word from Jane Eyre.
“No, I have not been to the countryside. And medical. . . I beg your pardon?” I stammer.
I do not know anything about the medical care system since VeVe cares for both of us with her herbs. I search for all the phrases I have prepared but cannot find one that even remotely fits his question. I lower my head, look at the concrete floor, and twist the hem of my blouse.
“Did you say you were seventeen?”
How does he know I’m seventeen? I haven’t said anything about my age. All the other students are eighteen, except a girl named Fen who is nineteen. I am one-year younger because I started school earlier.
“你去過農村嗎，”他突然問，“農民有什麽醫療？”
我不知道那個問題是否在考試題裏。到目前我以為他應該對我的英文很很滿意而給個高分放我走。但是此刻，當他的藍眼睛盯住我的時候，我意識到我出色的回答，不但沒讓他滿意，反而使他惱火，好像看到我掙紮他才高興。我突然想起了簡愛裏麵的一個詞，惡魔，惡魔，我在心裏麵喊著。
“沒有，我從來沒到過農村。醫療。。。什麽醫療。。。你再說一遍好嗎？”我結結巴巴的說。
任何地方的醫療製度我都不知道，因為瑋瑋使用她自己的中藥來照顧我們倆的。我在腦子裏搜索我準備好的英文句子，但是沒有找到一個能回答，甚至免強回答他的問題的。我低下頭，看著水泥地，開始用手搓我的衣角。
“你17歲對吧，” 他忽然問。
他怎麽知道我17歲，我根本就沒提我的年齡啊。我上學早了一年，其他的同學都是18歲，除了一個叫芬芳的女孩兒，19歲。
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