You should use this system, Dr Zhang said. Try it. It works.
I will, I said. I couldnt see that Id ever want it, but I knew enough to thank him for the gift.
Getting me home proved harder than any of us might have guessed. The streets outside were empty, of people as well as cars, and the four of us walked six blocks to a small guesthouse before we could find a working phone. When the cab Dr Zhang called finally drove up, the driver, who spoke no English, took one look at me and shook his head. Two firm movements, the same movements the driver in front of the Forbidden City had made. In the dim light of the doorway I looked down at my white skirt and saw how inappropriately I was dressed. How inappropriate I was my hair hanging down in a pale sheet, the gold watch on my wrist, the silk scarf draped across the front of my blouse. Everything about me proclaimed my separateness. There were buses leading back to the Fragrant Hills, but I couldnt be put on them. This guesthouse where I stood was forbidden to me. I was very thirsty, but the water dripping from the outside tap might as well have been salt. Like some pale, consumptive child, I needed bottled water and special food and private transportation. Of course the driver didnt want to take me who would want the responsibility?
Dr Zhang placed his hand on the drivers elbow and spoke softly but firmly to him. He doesnt know the hotel, Dr Zhang said a minute later. But he knows the Fragrant Hills can you find the hotel once youre in the park?
My room, calling me again; my room, which was almost as big as their apartment. I think so, I said. I smiled at the driver, trying to look competent and undemanding. Trying not to show my discomfort it was past midnight already and I knew that the Exhibition Hall had long since closed, that Walter and Katherine Olmand and the other scientists whod gone in a group to watch dancers in fake folk costumes and acrobats with flaming hoops must be back at the hotel already, sound asleep. Except that Walter wouldnt be asleep, because of me. Walter would be pacing the carpeted floor and tapping his index finger against the crystal of his watch. I looked at Dr Yu and Dr Yu looked at me. I kept you too late, she murmured.
Rocky stepped forward. Hed said little all evening, but now he looked at his mother and announced his plan. Ill go with her, he said. It isnt safe otherwise.
The family held a whispered conversation I couldnt understand, and Rocky shifted a flat cardboard package under one arm. Hed picked this up as wed left his parents apartment, and I had seen his mother give him a puzzled glance. Wo qu, Rocky said, and then he repeated himself in English. Ill go.
There was more conversation I didnt understand, and then Dr Zhang, glaring at Rocky, said, I accept. You take the bus back.
I slipped Dr Yu my phone number at the hotel and she promised to call me. Then Rocky and I settled into the cabs back seat, which was slipcovered in brown fabric and dotted with crocheted antimacassars. Lucky you, Zillah said. This boy I jumped and Rockys knee touched my thigh.
Go to the clinic tomorrow! Dr Zhang shouted as we drove away. To clinic!
As soon as we left them we were lost, but Rocky and I were so caught up with each other that we didnt notice at first. So, he said to me. Did you have a nice evening? And then he laughed as if hed said the funniest thing in the world. Be more like bamboo, less like tree, he added in his fathers voice. Unbelievable. Did he drive you crazy?
Not at all, I said. He made me sad. All the things that have happened to him
Rocky smiled and touched my hand. Youre so nice, he said. So beautiful. He had less of a Beijing accent than either of his parents, but he had something else I didnt recognize at first. I had to fight off an urge to seize his fingers before he moved his hand away.
I laughed nervously. Im glad you think so, I said. Mostly everyone thinks Im too fat. Especially my husband.
You are kidding, Rocky said. You look like a Rubens. Or a Rembrandt.
He edged closer to me on the seat and I edged away. My palms were drenched again. How do you know so much about Western art? I asked.
That is my dream, he said. I have loved it since I was little. In the country, where we were sent, was a farmer from Manitoba who came here to help the peasants farm better. He made friends with me when I was small he was who taught me English.
His voice, now that I listened again, had a faint Canadian ring to it.
Wilkins, Rocky said dreamily. That was his name. He was an amateur painter, and he used to put his easel in the fields and paint when he wasnt working. He taught me drawing, and also let me look at his books from home. All kinds of art books, that I could look at as long as I wanted. I thought I could be like him when I grew up. I knew nothing about politics then nothing. If anyone had ever told me that Id be selling clothes on the street, and that there would be no good job for me ever
He reached into his cardboard package, which hed laid on the seat between us, and he drew out a Rapidograph and a magnifying glass. He gave me these, Rocky said. My two best things in the world.
Theyre lovely, I said. Where do you get the ink?
I have to grind it myself, he said sadly. Its never as good as the ink Wilkins had I use the ink cake we have here, for calligraphy, and I mix a special formula. But sometimes it clogs my pen.
I looked out the window and couldnt recognize anything, despite all the times Id been driven between the Fragrant Hills and the city. The driver, whod been silent so far, caught my eye in the mirror and quickly looked away.
Where are we? I asked Rocky.
He looked around. No idea, he said. He leaned forward and spoke quietly to the driver and then leaned back against the seat, close to me. The driver says we are west of the airport, and east of Qinghua. He thinks. But do not worry.
Im glad you came along, I said. Id be nervous by now if you werent here. I hate that I cant get around by myself.
Please, he said. I will take care of you. And I felt that he would, somehow; that he had a store of resourcefulness and intelligence that would keep me safe. Why does your husband let you out alone like this at night? he asked. He must be blind.
I turned my face away. Its hard to explain, I muttered, staring out the window at the low, blank buildings. Our marriages are different than yours.
Not so different, Rocky said blandly. I have two friends who work at the Great Wall Hotel have you been there?
No, I said.
You ought to see it, he said. Its very elegant chrome columns, deep carpet, health club, glass elevators. Hot water at all hours. I have not been inside, but my friends say it is much nicer than this place where youre staying. Yours is owned by the government.
Excuse me? I said. My attention had drifted; I was trying to imagine a place more luxurious, more cut off, than mine.
State-run, Rocky said patiently. The Great Wall Hotel is a joint Chinese-American project. My friends who work there, they are paid very well and have excellent uniforms, and they learn proper business attitudes from American bosses. Its a very good opportunity for them they meet many people. One of my friends is trying to get me a job there, so I can make some contacts. The benefits are very good my friends pick up many things the foreigners throw away. Pens, paper, cosmetics half-used, clothes with one small spot or rip, plastic bags; also books. I read the American novels they give me you have divorce, adultery, many problems with couples. Us too. It is harder for us to get divorced, but the situations are the same.
I sighed. Were not getting divorced, I said. Its not like that.
No? he said. Whats it like?
He was six years younger than me, hardly more than a boy, and yet somehow I wanted to tell him everything. His was the face Id been looking for in the crowds Id seen through the minibus windows. His was the sympathetic ear. I imagined my story unrolling before him, stunted and stilted and common and sad; insignificant compared to his fathers; the same old story. Except that he wouldnt have heard it before. I raised my hand and then let it fall onto his cardboard folder. Rocky looked down.
You want to see these? he said.
See what?
My drawings.
He lifted a flap and pulled out a sheaf of papers, which he held up before me. The inside of the cab was so dark that I couldnt make out anything. Wait, he said. From his shirt pocket he pulled a pair of Bic lighters and lit one with each hand. His face lit up, the dark hollows below his cheekbones echoing his dark eyes, dark hair. His hands looked almost transparent. In the yellow glow his drawings sprang to life. Birds, bees, fish, plants, grain, farm implements. A moths antennae grown huge, the mouth parts of a bee; the convolutions of a hummingbirds tongue. No people, not a single portrait. No landscapes. Meticulous renderings of tiny things, beautiful as well as accurate and displaying a naturalists fascination with detail and form. I pointed to the most mysterious one, of a jar filled with bubbling liquid and shreds. Whats that? I asked.
Something my mother discovered, he said. She found this new strain of yeast that digests ground-up cornstalks and straw and sorghum stems so the pigs can eat it she said it is like giving the pigs a rumen, as with cows or goats or sheep. I call it rumen-in-a-jar. It saved the production team lots of grain, but she got no credit for it.
He sighed. I want to be a scientific illustrator, he said. Do you think I have a chance?
He drew like Darwin; he might have done the Galápagos finches justice. Youre very good, I said. I used to do some work like this for my husband, but youre much better. These are as good as any illustrations Ive ever seen.
He sighed and let his lighters go out. I knew it, he said. Last year, in the spring, I took the examinations for industrial art college. My modeling, painting, and drawing were better than anyones and still they wouldnt let me in. Still, I am selling radios, and saving money that does me no good. Even if I could arrange to go abroad, my money would be worth nothing outside.
He pressed three of his drawings into my left hand. Would you give these to your husband? he said. Maybe he can hire me for work where you live.