~~~
In the courtyard, Fourth is sweeping the ground.
Our small compound only houses our two families. SanNe’s is larger with all red bricks and four rooms. VeVe and I have three rooms besides the kitchen and the bathroom. Facing north, SanNe’s house has better feng shui than our south-facing house. Both houses have a narrow hallway that opens to the courtyard.
The courtyard seems larger than it is because it’s empty. Other than SanNe’s ceramic flower pots strewn here and there, there are only two other fixtures: SanNe’s storage shed and the gigantic mulberry tree. The mulberry tree is tall and bushy. Normally mulberries don’t grow in the cold North, unless it’s in a shielded, temperate environment. Our compound is enclosed by tall, brick walls, which softens the harsh winter and allows the mulberry tree to thrive. The mulberries can be yellow, red, and purple, all at once.
But there is something haunting about the tree. SanNe says that a wealthy opium merchant’s wife planted it and later hung herself from its heaviest branch. I think of the story more often this summer, because the tree is acting so strangely—there is not a single mulberry on it, unlike in previous years when it was so fertile that Fourth, SanNe’s only son, and I always ate ourselves sick.
Fourth is now sweeping the courtyard with a large broom, though there is nothing to sweep. This is a way for a slow-witted eighteen-year old to earn some change, SanNe, says. In fact, it is her trick to keep him occupied. A communist cadre with extensive social connections, SanNe lacks nothing, and eats better than other families. I catch whiffs of cooked pork from her house right now.
Fourth’s dull eyes light up when he sees me. “Amei, I waited for you, waited for you,” he says, drooling.
“You are a good sweeper, Fourth. I don’t see a single twig on the ground.”
He giggles and scratches his shaved head. “Want to see? See?”
When I nod, he drops his broom, grabs my hand, and starts for the shed. We are used to holding hands, even when we are out in the alley. No one lifts an eyebrow or spits on the ground when they see us, as if Fourth’s slowness makes his sex insignificant.
The shed is a small room made of cheap wood. As soon as I step inside, a strong animal odor floods my nostrils. There are rabbits, seven of them, hopping around or nibbling the cabbage leaves scattered on the floor. Six of them are gray and one is white with red eyes. Fourth and I have agreed on naming this one Purely. He catches her and hands her to me. She easily settles in my arms.
“Is there sand in school rice? School rice?” he asks, stroking a gray rabbit’s long ears with his stubby fingers.
“There’s sand in rice everywhere,” I say. It’s true. Farmers mix sand into rice to add extra weight. VeVe has to swirl the rice in water to clean it.
“Is the mulberry tree high enough to jump off and die? Jump off and die?” Fourth asks, his thick eyelashes fluttering.
“You stop talking nonsense. I have enough on my mind.”
“On your mind?”
“A foreigner came to my school.”
“Foreign devil. Foreign devil.” He giggles. “Big nose. Big nose.”
Sometimes Fourth listens to me, sometimes he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. I can say almost anything in front of him. He is my walking diary, a safe one. The only thing I can’t do is cry, because he will cry with me, only harder and more loudly.
“The foreigner is going to test my English,” I say, stroking Purely’s fur. “I don’t think he will be nice. How should I act in front of him? Should I be a meek girl casting my eyes down and twisting the hem of my shirt? Or a sassy one with both of my arms on my hips and roll my eyes once in a while? One thing I won’t do is giggle—VeVe tells me never to giggle in front of men. So tell me: should I laugh if this foreigner says something funny?”
“Should you laugh. Laugh,” Fourth says.
“I’m scared.” I give Purely back to Fourth. “VeVe is scared, too,” I murmur to myself.
Fourth lifts his head with a pitiful look on his face. “You are scared? No. No.” He starts to cry.
“Don’t cry.” I touch his cheek. “Shush.”
But his tears and snot keep running down his bumpy face. I grab Purely from his hands. “I’ll throw her out the window if you don’t stop crying.”
