The days slowly moved on. Mother and I struggled to get enough to eat, coal for our little stove, oil for the lamp, and water for cooking and washing. Yet we rarely spoke to each other.
Outside, green buds quietly turned to full leaves on the milk trees. One morning after work, instead of going to her room, Mother sat down at the table. “Come here, Ling. I need to talk to you.”
I was so pleased that she wanted to talk. There were so many things I wanted to say to her. I wanted to tell her she was the only person I had left in the world. And I wanted her to know I even forgave her for trading my precious blouse.
“Listen carefully.” Mother placed a list on the table. “You’re almost twelve now, and you need to
learn how to do these chores.” Her bloodshot eyes stared at me like a pair of daggers. I looked away.
She paused for a moment, rubbing the button on her jacket, as if deciding how to tell me the rest. “In case I am gone—”
“What do you mean, in case you are gone? I’m too young to be by myself.”
Mother’s glazed eyes stared at Chairman Mao’s portrait above the fireplace.
“Answer me, Mother … please!” I started to cry.
She continued. “Soak the dirty clothes first before putting on the soap. Use the washboard—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I’m too young to learn.” I ran to my room and closed the door.
I shivered with fear. My mouth let out all the bad words I knew. Outside my window, three sparrows drummed their wings. I wished I could fly away from this miserable place. What did Mother mean by “in case I am gone”? Were they going to take her away, too? Or was she going to try to kill herself by walking into the river like Mr. Ji?
The sparrows shot away. Someone staggered into the courtyard. I recognized her as the doctor known
for delivering babies. On one side of her head, the hair had been cut close to the scalp and the other half was shoulder-length. A streak of blood flowed from her forehead. One of the sleeves was missing from her white sweater, showing her bare arm. She was approaching the three-story building across the courtyard when Mother joined me at the window.
“Oh, no! They gave her a yin-yang haircut at today’s public criticism meeting,” Mother whispered. Her fingers reached again for her button.
Fear and pain stirred in my chest. What crime could the baby doctor have committed? I’d always seen her either holding a baby or walking with a pregnant woman. Were they afraid she would turn babies into antirevolutionaries? An awful thought filled me. Would Mother be strong enough to endure a public criticism meeting? Did she tell me “in case I am gone” because she believed something was going to happen to her?
Soon, the doctor’s two teenage sons and their grandmother rushed into the courtyard from the street. The skinny grandmother stumbled on her tiny
crippled feet. Mother had told me that in the old days girls were forced to bind their feet to keep them small.
The older boy had a little black mole on the left side of his chin and was half a head taller than the younger one, who had a wide face and flat nose. They both were strongly built. The family had moved in about a year ago. I had overheard that their father had died of cancer.
Now the boys were on each side of their grandmother, helping her along. Their faces were pinched with worry. A moment after they went in their building, I heard the grandmother’s wailing. The older boy ran out screaming, “Help! Help my mother!”
Mother clutched my arms with both her hands. Just when I was trying to decide if I should break away from her grip to help the doctor, Comrade Li ran into the courtyard, followed by Pink Cheeks, Short Legs, Pimple Face, and Mouse Eyes. His amplified voice shrieked through the loudspeaker at the boy. “Get your antirevolutionary mother down here now!” The boy froze for a second, then ran back
inside the building. Short Legs, Pimple Face, and Pink Cheeks chased after him.
Mother let go of me and ran into her room. I hurried after her and found her shivering on the floor, leaning against her bed, eyes closed. “They are coming for me! They are coming for me! It’s my turn now!” she murmured.
Hiding my fear, I cupped her face in my hands and said gently, “Mom, Mom, they are coming for the baby doctor, not you! Not you!” She slowly opened her eyes and looked at me without blinking.
“Everyone report to the courtyard at once! To the courtyard now!” Comrade Li’s angry voice cut through our closed windows. Mother let me move her about like a puppet. I helped her put on her jacket and go down to the courtyard.
To our horror, there in front of the doctor’s building lay a stretcher covered with a blue sheet, a body outlined beneath it.
What was underneath the sheet? The baby doctor’s body? How could that be? She had just run across the courtyard. I didn’t want to believe what I saw.
The two sons supported the unsteady grandmother, standing next to the stretcher. She wept vigorously, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She seemed about to fall to the ground if not for the two boys. The older boy kept wiping his puffy eyes with the back of his free hand. The younger one stared into the distance, as if his mind was far away.
My heart trembled with fear and sadness. If they took her to the hospital now, could she be saved? I pushed my tears back. I didn’t want Comrade Li to see them.
Surrounded by Red Guards, Comrade Li stood next to the older boy, smoking his cigarette as he waited for everyone to assemble. When he noticed us, he gave me an evil leering grin. Mother kept her eyes half closed.
About twenty neighbors stood silent in the cold spring wind. It had rained the day before, so the ground of the courtyard was muddy. Small puddles had formed in a few places. Branches stretched to the sky like desperate arms, pleading for help.
Comrade Li shouted through the loudspeaker. “Everyone, take a close look at the number one traitor!”
He pointed at the figure beneath the sheet. “By committing suicide,” he continued, “she refused to be reeducated and showed her hatred for Chairman Mao and the Revolution!”
Why did the doctor kill herself? Did she do it because they cut her hair and tore her clothes? Could I have done something to save her? My vision blurred.
“Show your love for Chairman Mao. Draw a class line between yourselves and this traitor,” Comrade Li shrieked at the doctor’s family.
“Never!” The older boy thrust up his fist and spat at Comrade Li’s face. “You drove her to this. You killed my mother!” The black mole on his chin moved up and down as he cried. Surprised, Comrade Li backed up a few steps and wiped the spit off with his sleeve. The whole courtyard fell silent. I could hear Mother’s heavy breathing. From the river, a boat sounded its horn and gave out several short blasts. My head pounded.
“You antirevolutionary insect!” Comrade Li lifted his metal loudspeaker and smashed it down on the boy’s head. It gave out the clanking sound of metal
hitting rock, followed by a short squeal of static. Blood gushed from a cut above the boy’s ear. He fell to his knees, dragging down his grandmother, who struggled to remain standing and then collapsed on the ground beside him.
It felt like someone was kicking me from the inside.
“I’ll teach him a lesson.” Pimple Face furiously kicked the boy as he fell flat on the ground, groaning. Mouse Eyes stomped on his chest. Blood flowed from his mouth. His arms and legs stretched in and out as if pulled by invisible ghosts.
Tears welled in my eyes. Shivering, I gasped for breath. A young nurse standing next to me began sobbing. Mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder. I could feel her weight on me. I wished someone would stop the beating. If Father was here, he’d save the boy like he saved Mrs. Wong.
Suddenly, the grandmother threw herself over the boy. She pleaded in her high-pitched voice, “Please, please forgive us. We will draw a class line between us and my antirevolutionary daughter. Forgive my grandson. I will take my daughter’s place to be re-educated.”
The beating stopped. The air smelled of blood. A
few drops of cold rain fell on my face. How could they cruelly beat the boy after he had just lost his mother? The grandmother must have felt so desperate to denounce her daughter to save her grandsons.
Looking around me, many women had their eyes shut like Mother. Three young doctors stood in a far corner, their faces tightened with anger. I wished they would do something to stop this! But no one moved. They must be afraid to bring trouble to themselves and their family.
Pimple Face wedged his club between the grandmother and the wounded boy. He stabbed her chest with his stick until she fell backward. Now the older boy lay there motionless, covered with dust. The younger boy lifted his grandmother to her knees. Tears trickled down his face.
The hair on my arms bristled, and I tried hard to push down the lump in my throat.
As the Red Guards dragged the two boys away, the grandmother threw herself on top of the body on the stretcher and wailed, “Why did you have to do this? Didn’t you know your boys would have to pay for your death?”
It was then I realized that death could not end the suffering. Would the baby doctor still have killed herself if she had known what would happen to her family?
As Short Legs and Mouse Eyes dragged the grandmother away, she gripped the blue sheet, and it trailed along behind her, revealing the baby doctor’s body. An old man broke into long howls of despair, sounding like an injured wolf. It echoed around the courtyard. The ground underneath me swayed. I gripped the milk tree for support.
A long white rope, just like the one under Mother’s mattress, was tied around the baby doctor’s neck. Her eyes were wide open.