Marlowe

Harper had been in a short, deep sleep on the couch beside me, and as her chest rattled away, it was incredible to me that she seemed oblivious to the struggle that was taking place in her body. And then I caught myself, as I thought about this more, I wondered if in fact she wasn’t so oblivious. There was a strength to her that I often overlooked. Despite everything she had been through, she held onto joy and optimism. I thought about a long chambered heart of a butterfly, spanning from its head through to its thorax, diffusing gooey hemolymph around its body efficiently. Such a fragile creature that in many ways is so robust. If only humans were made in this way. If only Harper could have been made in this way.

The phone rang, snapping me into the present. I held my breath. It had to be Dad. Or was I being paranoid? I had turned off my mobile phone so he couldn’t contact me. Yet, I still lived in fear that he would find us before I had got Harper her transplant. I let it ring out, but after a pause of only a few seconds it started to ring again.

Harper woke up. ‘Who’s calling?’ she asked groggily.

‘It’s a wrong number.’ I got up and took the phone off the hook. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’

We sat at the dining table sipping tea from Bì Yù’s hand-crafted ceramic mugs and nibbling on sesame crackers. The cleaner still hadn’t finished her work; she was now mopping the floors. Her presence was irritating me.

‘Let’s go to Zhōngshān Park,’ said Harper. ‘I want to see the plum tree.’

I looked at my watch. We would have to leave for the Red Lantern Hotel in a few hours. I was reluctant to let Harper get any more exhausted than she already was.

I shook my head. ‘It’s way too cold today. We shouldn’t take any chances with your health.’

‘But, Marlowe, you promised.’ She stood up, her breathing laboured from that small effort. ‘I’ll go on my own then.’

‘Wait.’ I grabbed several wedding magazines Bì Yù had bought for Harper. ‘Don’t you want to have a look at these together? I think you would look stunning in this one.’ I opened to a page of a woman wearing a puffy white gown and held it out. Harper was immediately transfixed. She sank back onto the couch and started leafing through the magazines.

I had Bì Yù’s laptop in front of me, but just as I was about to open my emails the cleaner entered the room and began dusting. Hadn’t she already done that? Why was she still here?

‘Her name is Ān Chén,’ Harper announced as she cut out magazine clippings of women in both Chinese and Western wedding dresses and stuck them into her notebook. Every so often, the rasping of her breath would overcome the sound of scissors slicing paper.

‘How do you know?’

‘I asked her. It’s nice to know people’s names.’

She smiled at the cleaner, who smiled back.

‘Do you like this one?’ Harper pointed to a photo of a woman with pink flowers in her hair. She was standing in a field of daisies, the afternoon sun glowing behind her. One hand was lifting the skirt of her dress, and the delicate silver embroidery was illuminated by the golden light. She looked like she might be stuck in a dream.

I quickly turned the page. ‘I like this one.’ I pointed to a woman wearing a clean, simple dress that clung to her curves, it had a qí páo-style top and I thought it was very elegant.

‘No, that dress is boring,’ Harper declared. She turned back to the previous page. ‘Don’t you see?’ She ran her fingertip over the dreamy lady. ‘This dress is all about the magic of love.’

Ān Chén moved into the kitchen and I heard the clatter of dishes in the sink.

I logged into my email.

‘Marlowe?’ Harper asked, as I was waiting for it to load, ‘Do you think you will have a wedding one day?’

I shook my head.

‘I wish I could come to your wedding one day.’

Her words hit me in the gut. As if she could sense this, she stretched out her hand for me to hold.

‘If I ever got married, my wedding wouldn’t be much fun,’ I told her. ‘I’d keep it small and simple.’ If I ever got married? Since when was I going to get married?

I opened a message from Olly. We’d spoken briefly last night when Bì Yù and Harper had gone to bed. Our conversation was tense. Despite promising he would try to understand and support my actions, it seemed he was finding it hard to.

Marls, please call me. Please. I really need to talk to you about something.

I told him everything that had happened, even Harper telling me she didn’t want a transplant and that I never listened to her. Of course he was concerned. I shouldn’t have told him so much yesterday. I was sleep deprived. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I closed his email and opened a new message from Professor Lipin.

Dear Marlowe,

I hope your sister is recovering. I’ve been getting updates from Olly, who said that you may have found the appropriate treatment for her. I am keeping my fingers crossed for you all.

I’ve tried to call the Hong Kong mobile number you left me several times without being able to reach you. I was disappointed to learn from your last email that you would be leaving the PhD program. If the reasons are primarily financial, I’d like to assure you that there are funding options available to you – especially now. We’ve had a call from the Devon pesticide and insect control authority. Thanks to your hard work, they’ve agreed to stop using insecticides.

We are starting the arion conservation program again this summer, and I would like to offer you a paid position as my assistant. Since it’s still a few months away now, and from what Olly has said there’s a chance that your sister will have recovered by then, I thought there would be no harm in asking.

Finally, I have saved the best news for last. It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you have won the Royal Zoological Award. Marlowe, this is such an honour and it couldn’t have gone to a more deserving candidate. The results have not been announced publicly yet, but you should be receiving formal notification from the Zoological Society of London shortly.

The award ceremony will be held next month. I do hope you’ll be able to attend.

I look forward to hearing from you as soon as possible.

Best regards,

John Lipin

I stared at the computer screen until the words became blurry and reality sank in. All my hard work over the last few years had finally paid off: the conservation program was going ahead; there was hope for the arion.

An image of Grandpa came to mind, his hand on my shoulder, his face pink with pride. Although I’d been dismayed to learn that I had been entered for the award, now that I had won it, it felt damn good. And being invited to work with Professor Lipin on the conservation program was a huge honour. A new feeling swelled from my torso, making me stand tall. I didn’t feel the need to hide anymore.

I would have to ring Olly.

‘What’s so funny?’ Harper asked.

I became aware of my face – my cheeks were tight from smiling.

‘Come on, what is it?’

I took her hand. It was cold; too cold. I felt myself deflate. Suddenly I was finding it difficult to breathe. It was as if I was feeling what she was feeling, as if I was suffering from the very same heart defect.

‘Oh, nothing.’

She shrugged and returned to her wedding magazine. ‘You always say that.’

The realisation hit me then. I wouldn’t call Olly because I wouldn’t be returning to London to collect my award, finish my PhD or take part in the conservation program and bear witness to the revival of the brilliant blue butterfly in its natural habitat.

‘You thief! Nĭ zhè gè zéi!’ I was holding a wad of bills in my hand, waving them at Ān Chén as I shouted in a mix of English and broken Chinese. I had counted the money and we were one hundred renminbi short.

‘Give it to me!’ I demanded, holding out my hand. ‘I know you took it.’

She threw her arms into the air, screaming.

‘Nĭ fēng le ma?!’ Her fringe clung to her sweaty forehead.

‘Marlowe… Marlowe.’ I heard Harper’s voice close by. The sound of her sobbing. ‘Leave her alone. Stop it.’

But I couldn’t stop. My body was thick with heat. My hands were shaking. I wanted to empty her pockets myself. I was breathing in short, fast gasps. Furious words spilled out of me. The room was becoming a blur.

The front door opened and shut, footsteps ran through the apartment.

I felt hands on my shoulders. It was Bì Yù, urging me to sit on the bed.

‘Marlowe, you have to breathe.’ Her voice was calm.

I closed my eyes. Opened them again. I could see Harper standing in the doorway, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ān Chén was standing beside her, one arm around her shoulders, the other at her chest. Money scattered at my feet.

Bì Yù was rubbing my back while talking very softly, very calmly to Ān Chén.

‘Duì bù qĭ, duì bù qĭ,’ she was saying.

‘Why are you apologising?’ I demanded. ‘She took my money! Money for Harper!’

‘Marlowe, look.’ Bì Yù took an envelope out of her bag and passed it to me. ‘Ān Chén has nothing to do with this. I realised this morning that we were short because of the transfer fees and took out the remaining amount from my account today.’

I looked inside the envelope. Sure enough, the money was there. My world became still.

What was happening to me?

‘Oh…’ I was light-headed.

I stood unsteadily and made my way across the room to Ān Chén, but she backed away as I drew near.

‘I’m so sorry.’ But as I spoke, I realised my apology would be of no use.

The Red Lantern Hotel was situated directly opposite the hospital. An overpowering scent of floral detergent filled the lobby, which had mauve-tiled floors and large urns of fake roses.

We took the elevator to the eleventh floor, as instructed by Mr Zhāng, and walked down the corridor to room 1109. I gripped the duffel bag tightly. Harper had refused to sit in her wheelchair and was leaning heavily on Bì Yù’s shoulder, oxygen tank in hand. I could hear her sucking in breath. It made my insides turn.

‘No hospitals today, right?’ She had been asking me this every five minutes during our journey over here.

‘Right,’ I promised.

‘Good.’ She sighed. ‘I really don’t like the hospitals here, you know.’

Mr Zhāng answered the door at our knock and we entered. The curtains were drawn and the room was sparsely furnished, apart from more fake roses next to a large TV. I scanned the room for the surgeon we were supposed to meet, but there was no one else in the room.

‘Where’s the surgeon?’ I asked, and Bì Yù translated the question for Mr Zhāng.

He looked away as he spoke. ‘That’s good news,’ Harper said.

‘The surgeon is unable to make it,’ Bì Yù told me.

‘What? Why?’ Suddenly, I felt as jittery as if I had just downed four shots of espresso.

Harper plonked herself on the bed and turned on the TV.

Mr Zhāng gestured for Bì Yù and I to sit on the hard wooden chairs arranged on each side of a small table.

The broker put a new toothpick in his mouth before responding to my question.

‘He said the operating surgeon is a very busy man,’ Bì Yù translated. ‘I asked him the surgeon’s name but he said he could not reveal it.’

Surgeons were busy, I understood that, yet I couldn’t ignore the sense of foreboding building in me.

Mr Zhāng gestured to the duffel bag.

‘He says if you want to lock in the surgery tomorrow, you have to pay now.’ She paused. ‘Marlowe, before you hand over all that money, let’s stop and think about this for a minute. The whole thing feels like it’s getting out of control.’

I felt myself becoming irritated.

‘I don’t have a minute! Have you seen how sick Harper is?’

A small crease formed on her brow. ‘Of course I have, I –’

Mr Zhāng interrupted, tapping a long fingernail on the shiny face of his Rolex.

I thrust the duffel bag at him, trying to quell my apprehension.

He counted the money in front of us. When he was done, he nodded.

Bì Yù, who sat at the edge of her chair, spine erect, spoke to him in Chinese.

The broker replied.

I looked over at Harper, who had fallen asleep on the bed. The oxygen tube under her nose had come loose and was nestled in the crease of her lip. I quickly got up and fixed it in place as gently as I could.

‘Ask him what time the surgery will be scheduled for tomorrow?’ Bì Yù listened to his response, then reported, ‘He says he will call us in the morning to let us know. But Harper needs to return to the hospital today for more tests so they can prepare.’

‘Does she need to fast tonight?’

Bì Yù asked him, and I saw Mr Zhāng shake his head.

‘Tell him she’s always needed to fast before any significant procedure.’ Air felt hard to grasp.

Mr Zhāng’s voice got louder, faster.

Bì Yù said, ‘He insists she doesn’t need to fast. Not tonight. He repeated that we have to keep this whole thing a secret.’ She added, ‘I don’t like this, Marlowe. I don’t like this one little bit.’ She leaned in and whispered, ‘Are you really sure we should have given him all that money? Now he’s asking for more for these new tests.’

I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t about to admit it. ‘Yes, damn it,’ I snapped. I took Harper’s hand in mine. I had to put my doubts aside. The only way Harper was going to get her transplants was if we followed Mr Zhāng’s instructions.

Back at the Shanghai Middle Hospital, I sat alone in a small waiting room off the transplant ward, rocking back and forth. The sounds of Harper’s screams echoed through the hall.

‘Don’t touch me, leave me alone! Fàng kāi wǒ! Fàng kāi wǒ! Leave me alone! I don’t like this place. I want my Louis – someone please get me my Louis.’ And then, ‘Marlowe, where are you? You promised no more hospitals!’

My insides felt hot. I swallowed bile as it churned up into my mouth. I was trying not to imagine how betrayed she must be feeling – conned into coming to this awful hospital against her wishes. It was cruel. I knew it was cruel.

I stood and shut the door. Her muffled screams tore through my chest. It was as if there was no boundary between us. Her pain was my pain. Her desperation, her frustration, her dependency – the feeling of being trapped, of having her free will harnessed by me. I placed my headphones into the small tunnels of my ears, as far as they would go. Although they were attached to my MP3 player, I did not listen to music. Silence enveloped me like a soft, cotton blanket. I sat on the floor and leaned my back against the wall. I brushed the tears from my cheeks, but they just kept coming.

I opened my handbag and rummaged for some tissues. It was a mess in there: hair ties, lip balm, Panadol, old receipts, my scarf, a notebook… and Dad’s letter. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and opened it.

Dear Marlowe,

I’ve had much on my mind that I’ve wanted to share, but when I’m with you, I struggle to find the words to express myself. I’ll try to say what I need to in this letter, but please forgive any clumsiness.

Most people thought it was me who had trouble accepting Harper’s birth. I fit the stereotype of the stiff-upper-lipped Brit who couldn’t handle emotion. But when I held her for the first time, looked into her eyes, the fact that she wasn’t ‘perfect’ didn’t disturb me at all. It made me want to wrap her up and tie her to my chest so that I could keep her close and safe.

As your mother lay in her hospital bed, listening to the doctors tell us we had a ‘retarded child’, I saw her eyes turn glassy. I knew then that she was stuck in a nightmare, waiting for her ‘real’ daughter to be born instead of this ‘flawed’ one. She will never learn to read, never learn to write…The doctors rattled off a list of things she would never be able to do.

When they left, I sat next to your mother and took her hand. I suggested we name our baby Harper, after Harper Lee – as you know, she is one of my favourite authors.

Your mother didn’t smile. She looked away and reminded me that the doctors had said Harper would never be able to write.

I wish she could see Harper now, sitting at the table, writing furiously, words spilling from her in a language that knows only love.

You see, my darling girl, my love for Harper is as strong as yours.

I do hope one day you will be able to understand my position in all of this.

Yours always,

Dad

My body felt weighed down by Dad’s words. I put the letter to my nose, searching for the scent of home, but all I could smell was ink. Suddenly I felt like a small child, desperate for her father to come and make it all better. Silly. I took a breath and folded the letter, slipped it back into the envelope and slid it into the side pocket of my bag.

‘Marlowe?’ Bì Yù was standing in the doorway, panting. ‘Why aren’t you with Harper?’

I shook my head and looked at the floor between my knees.

‘Did you get the money for the tests?’ I asked.

She nodded.

‘But I can’t keep doing this – I’ll run out.’ She sighed, then held out her hand. ‘Come on.’

Harper was asleep when we entered her cubicle. The nurse attending to her told us she had been given a sedative to calm her down but we could take her home now.

She then handed me the bill. Bì Yù peered over my shoulder. Every item that had been used in Harper’s care, including cotton buds and the thermometer, was listed.

‘What the hell?’ Bì Yù grabbed the bill from my hands. ‘This is daylight robbery.’

I felt a flutter in my abdomen as I handed over the cash my cousin had given me. The woman took it and hurried off.

It will be fine, I told myself. This is all part of the process. Mr Zhāng had warned me from the beginning that there would be extra costs. The important thing was that tomorrow my sister would be given the new heart and lungs that would save her life.

I turned to wake her.