I’m leaving the restaurant with Yun’s roommates when Yun and her boyfriend—Yong, Zhenzhen called him—roar past on his motorbike, the smoky exhaust from the tailpipe burning the inside of my nose.
The sun has dropped away, but in the light of the noodle shop window, I see Hong and Zhenzhen flash sly smiles at each other. They throw knowing grins my way, but I can only pull my mouth to a stiff line. I watch Yun getting smaller as the motorbike zooms off down the potholed street.
I trail the girls past the low buildings and construction sites back to the dorm. The halls and bathrooms are crowded as I follow Hong and Zhenzhen to the room and through the routine of getting ready for bed. When we’ve all washed and changed, I slip into Yun’s bunk and watch the other roommates who’ve come off their shift. After Hong explains who I am, the others take no notice of me. They go on chatting with each other, talking or texting on their phones, settling themselves into their bunks. The girl who didn’t come out with us to eat, Dali, is still reading in her bed.
At the Institute, the girls’ room was so very different. There were no photos of movie stars pasted on the walls, no stuffed animals, no clutter of purses, bags, and clothes, no bright-patterned, tumbled bedding. There were only a few of us sleeping in low cots under scratchy wool blankets. All the other girls at the Institute, except Yun, were disabled and much younger than me. I used to help them get dressed and get to the dayroom to eat before I went to school.
I can’t believe that it was only this morning that I gathered together my few pieces of clothing, my comb, and Yun’s letters at the Institute. I collected my identification card from a silent office worker and would have gone through the gates without anyone saying goodbye to me if I hadn’t run into Caretaker Wong.
“Going out now?” she called, her voice ringing across the deserted courtyard, sounding too loud.
I nodded.
“All the young women want to work in the factory now,” Caretaker Wong said. “I don’t see why you would turn down a good position here.” She shook her head, frowning. “You would have had security. So easy for you because you already know what to do!”
It was true I knew how to lug laundry and change diapers and prop bottles up to babies. But I had not liked it there.
She paused at the door to the main building and looked back at me. “Well, come back to visit us sometime. And if you don’t like your work in the factory, maybe we’ll have a position open up again.”
I went through the gates then, and when they clanked behind me, they sounded different than before. I turned to see the green block lettering painted on the building: Gujiao Children’s Social Welfare Institute 17. My legs were wobbly. I had been waiting so long for this day, but I hesitated, fearing the next step.
Now that I’m out, it seems strange that I’m thinking about the Institute. I suppose it’s the newness of all this, and Yun not being here with me—and how different she is, with her girlish manners and her stylish hair. The first time I saw Yun she had a shaven head. Her eyes seemed to take over her face because she had no eyebrows or lashes. She told me later that the caretakers shaved her head whenever she couldn’t stop plucking out her hair. She then picked out her eyebrows and lashes until they were gone too. Everything eventually grew back in, and since I’ve known her, she’s only occasionally yanked out small patches. When I asked her why she did it, she thought for several moments before she shrugged and said it made her feel better.
I try not to be disappointed that she went off with her boyfriend. I listen for footsteps outside the door, jump every time the handle turns and one of the roommates comes in. Hong said it might be hours before she comes back. I try to stay awake, but I’m so tired.
***
The insistent beep of an alarm wakes me the next morning. For a moment I think I’m at the Institute, but then I hear the groaning and complaining of girls around me. I sit up, searching the room, morning light streaming in the window. When my eyes adjust, I see that Yun hasn’t come back.
Zhenzhen offers to show me where the human resources department is. I nod gratefully and go with her to the bathroom at the end of the hall to get ready. It’s crowded with girls coming in and out of the stalls and washing at the long white-tiled sinks that line one wall and the center of the room. Wires are strung over the sinks, and faded colored underwear and bras are clipped to hangers dangling overhead. The smells of damp laundry and cleanser sting my nose. Zhenzhen and I find places next to each other at the sinks. We’re bent over them, splashing our faces with cold water, when I feel a rough tap on the shoulder. I look up. Yun is there, standing between Zhenzhen and me.
Zhenzhen grabs her arm. “Where were you last night? Why didn’t you answer your phone? We were worried. Thought we should tell someone!”
The smile falls off Yun’s face. “You didn’t, did you?”
Zhenzhen shakes her head and arches her brow. “We figured you were with your boyfriend.”
Yun’s smile comes back, and she squeezes her shoulders up but doesn’t say anything. Her face glows, and for a moment I have that odd feeling again, as if I don’t know this person.
Zhenzhen leans in. “What happened?”
Yun glances around the bathroom. The crowd is thinning, but a few girls standing around us have stopped what they’re doing and are plainly listening. She shakes off the question. “I have to change and get ready for work. Besides, I want to see if I can help Luli get a place.”
“I was going early to take her to the Human Resources Department. Better hurry.”
Yun nods. “Okay. Maybe it would be better if you introduced her, since I didn’t do overtime yesterday. Remind them that there’re some openings in my department. Take her to see Ming.” She turns to me. “You remember Ming from school.”
I do remember Ming. He was a couple years ahead of us and took notice of Yun shortly before he finished middle school. He used to trail her as we walked home. At first she was puzzled by it. She stopped on the sidewalk and shouted at him, “Why are you walking with us?” He shrugged and blushed, but just a few weeks later, they were kissing in the alley.
They were still together when Yun went out of the orphanage, but she didn’t mention him in her last letter. I guess they’ve broken up since she’s with Yong now.
Zhenzhen takes me to the canteen, and we wait outside, hoping to catch Ming on his way out. I ate so much last night that I can still feel the food in my stomach, but the smell of fry oil coming through the door as people go in and out makes my stomach rumble. I could eat again, but Zhenzhen makes no mention of it, and I don’t ask.
When she spots Ming, she calls him over. He looks much the same as when I last saw him two years ago—thin, wearing a collared shirt, only now his short hair is cut so that long bangs hang in his face. He’s grown taller, but he slumps with his head and shoulders forward as if he’s uncomfortable with his height. As he approaches, I feel his eyes taking me in, though he doesn’t seem to recognize me. I wonder if I’ve changed so much.
“This is Cao Luli,” Zhenzhen says. “She’s looking for a position. She’s a friend of Yun’s. Comes from that same orphanage. Yun thought you might be able to help her find something. Says there are openings in your department.”
Ming cocks his head when Zhenzhen mentions Yun, and he looks at me more closely, studying my face.
“Where’s Yun? Why didn’t she ask me herself?”
“She’s dragging behind this morning,” Zhenzhen answers. “You know she was sick yesterday—couldn’t do that overtime your department wanted.”
His mouth twists and he shakes his head. Then he turns to me. “I remember you from school.”
“Can you ask your dad, then?” Zhenzhen says. “I have to get on my line now.”
He nods.
Zhenzhen leaves for her building, and I follow Ming, the moths creeping back into my stomach.