The good thing about the adult unit of the Institute is that there’s hardly any staff. At least that’s the way it is on this floor where the wards are silent and harmless. It’s like they’re locked inside their heads.
Luli and I slip through the halls and head downstairs, following Guo. When we get to the back door, Luli hesitates. There’s a rough moment when she looks at Guo. He isn’t grinning like he was yesterday, when they carried me in and we saw each other. Even though I was acting like I was mentally disabled, I peeked open one eye and raised my eyebrows at him. His blank face cracked open like a melon on display at the market. Now he looks dumb again. So much like the foundlings at the Institute, standing in their cribs, waiting for their food. I know he has Down syndrome, but he isn’t as slow-witted as the Institute staff think. Still, we have to leave him behind. We can’t do anything for him.
“Guo, we’ll visit you again,” Luli says. Her voice quavers.
He beams. “And bring the baby with you!”
I flinch but don’t say anything.
Luli and I leave, going out into the wet snow. I take a deep breath. The air smells like metal, like coal and exhaust. With a burst of energy, I speed toward the gate as fast as I can with my heavy belly. I pound on the window in the little door of the guardbox. “Let us out!”
The watchman is startled. I laugh at the expression on his face as he opens it.
“What’s this?” he says, glancing at the swell of my belly. “You’ve been released?”
“This isn’t a jail! I wasn’t arrested. I needed social welfare, but not anymore. My family came for me.” I nudge Luli with my elbow. Her face is a swirling hotpot of fear, amazement, and giddiness. It makes me want to laugh some more.
“I’d better check with the director.” He reaches for the phone.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not a registered ward here!” I stamp over to the gate, feeling the baby turn inside me. Now seems like a good moment to use my trick. I clutch my belly and gasp, faking pain.
Luli cries out. She has an expression of utter horror.
“She’s taking me to the hospital!” I tell the guard. I motion fiercely to Luli, willing her to snap out of her shock. She rushes over. I put one arm around her neck, and we hobble to the nearest big avenue and get a taxi.
***
We have to stop by the factory so Luli can get her money. I wait in the taxi and watch her cross the empty plaza. The snow is more water than fluff, melting when it hits the concrete, the slick places mirroring the white of the sky. I try not to think about what’s going to happen. The other time we went to the clinic, they mentioned pills, cramping, bleeding.
I try to push that out of my mind and gaze at the factory complex on the other side of the gates. Everyone is inside working now. I can see myself in there, bent over my adapter cords and black twist-ties, watching the clock, stiff-necked. I know I won’t be working at this factory, but I hope to be working somewhere soon.
Luli returns, worry written on her face. I give the driver the address of the Modern Women’s Health Clinic.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as I find a position and get my first pay,” I say to Luli.
She waves aside my promise. “Yun, I don’t think this is a good idea. The baby is so big. Are you sure terminating now will be”—she presses her lips together for a moment and glances at my stomach—“safe?”
I turn away from her and stare out the wet-streaked window. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.
The snow has turned to sleet again. It makes a faint pizzle against the glass that I can hear between the tharummph, tharummph of the windshield wipers. The colors of the signs and lights of the stores glow brightly amid the silvery-gray rain. Funny how just a short time ago I was feeling so happy, free. But now, I’m as low as anyone can be. Trapped, scared.
At the clinic, we eventually get shuttled to the doctors’ office and meet with the same one I saw all those months ago, though she doesn’t seem to remember me. I lean forward and mutter what I need so the other doctor in the office and his patient can’t hear. My doctor gives me a look as if she’s been struck by lightning. For a full minute she doesn’t say anything.
“You waited a long time. That wasn’t wise, you know. I’m surprised the Family Planning Council didn’t catch up with you months ago. Sometimes Family Planning forces women to have late-term abortions, but we’re not equipped to terminate a pregnancy this far along. And it’s highly unlikely a hospital would do it either.”
I’m really scared now. There’s all kinds of chaos inside of me. The doctor must see that I’ve started to tremble, but she just says matter-of-factly, “You shouldn’t have waited so long. You’ll have to pay the social maintenance fee so you can get the birth permit. It will cost you a lot. Around 40,000 yuan.”
A hopeless amount. More than I’d earn at a factory job in five years.
Luli stands up. “Thank you,” she says meekly to the doctor. Pulling on my arm, she says, “Come on, let’s get out of here. Don’t worry, it’ll be all right. I’ll help you.”
I let myself be led out.