River of Dust A Novel

Twenty-eight

M ai Lin lugged a bundle after her over the cracked ground of the marketplace and up the road to the shop that in better times had been the heart of Fenchow-fu. She yanked it across the threshold and was aware of the old ones crouched on barrels and the young ones who lounged against the counter and lay splayed on the floor. She could not be bothered with such lazy bums and wanted only to do her business and get back to the compound. The mistress was waiting for her and most urgently wanted to leave for the unfortunate village of Yao dao ho. It was a foolish plan, but Mai Lin took it as her duty to help the young woman fulfill her destiny. The river was flowing fast now, no longer with water but with dust. Who were they to try to stop it?

With some effort, she lifted the heavy bundle onto the countertop and untied a lace corner of the white linen tablecloth. American forks, spoons, and knives tumbled out. Ridiculous utensils, she thought, far too complicated and fussy. But the sterling silver was of the highest quality and had to be worth something, even in these bare times.

A young fellow with a big swagger and a white scar under one eye stepped forward. He lifted a spoon and then let it drop again onto the pile with a clatter. The cocky man did not bother even to look closely or confer with one of the grandfathers who stood nearby. He simply turned away.

"I know, senseless things," Mai Lin tried, "but you can melt them down. Real silver!" She lifted a spoon with a florid W engraved upon the handle and bit it with hard gums.

One of the grandfathers shuffled closer and inspected a spoon. "Very fine," he said, and Mai Lin thought that at least the old man had not lost his sense.

The younger man glanced again at the gleaming treasure— all of the Watsons' place settings sent to them after their wedding, mailed in a wooden crate all the way from the town of Cleveland in a province called Ohio. Mistress Grace had cried the first time she had shown Mai Lin how to polish it. Such a sentimental and homesick girl, her mistress had been back then.

"What do you want for this junk, old woman?" the young swaggerer finally asked.

Mai Lin bristled at his rudeness and sucked harder on her betel quid to keep from mouthing back. "A camel."

The fellow let out a deep laugh that echoed against the empty shelves. His friends in the back of the store paused over the gambling table, but when they saw that their leader was only dealing with an old woman, they returned to their mah-jongg.

Mai Lin placed her eye upon the young man, and although it took a few moments, he stopped his foolish laugh and grew quiet. He placed a finger to the white scar under one eye. It glistened, and Mai Lin knew that it now burned. She stared harder, and Swagger blinked several times.

"I have a camel," he said. "But it's not for sale."

"I will borrow it, then," Mai Lin said.

He started to chuckle again, then caught himself. As he considered her proposal, she reached into one of the deep pockets of her skirts and pulled out the child-sized skull. She placed it on the counter and turned it to face him.

"What is that thing, you witch?" he asked as he shifted so the hollow eyes would not find him. "Get it away from me."

The grandfathers moved closer. They nodded and muttered to one another, but none reached out to touch it.

"Fine," she said. "I will put it away."

And she did. The grandfathers watched her carefully now, and Mai Lin wondered why none of them spoke up and told the young man who she was. They knew, the elders knew, but they were cowards, every one of them.

She had seen the pistol tucked into the young man's belt. That thing wasn't worth her concern. Her time had not come yet, she knew this. But these grandfathers had lost all of the old understanding. They were too intimidated by the new generation to teach them as they needed to be taught. No wonder the young thought they could rule, when really all they could do was swagger.

"I will borrow your camel for one day in exchange for all this silver," she announced.

The young man, finally coming to his senses, looked at the elders. Although still mongrels and rogues, they nodded their approval.

"Good," Mai Lin said.

Then she turned and started toward the door, avoiding the indolent women sleeping on the floor. She had barely noticed them on her way in and now could see that they were not worth seeing. Pathetic creatures who sold themselves for men's pleasure, they deserved to be spat upon, but Mai Lin refrained. Several lay sprawled on a thick carpet of fur. Mai Lin paused and knelt down to touch the flea-bitten hide. Her ancient eyes did not deceive her this time.

"Get away from us, you old hag," cried a girl who showed too much flesh.

Another said, "Don't let her touch you with those disgusting hands!"

Mai Lin chewed on her lips to keep from spewing forth at the nasty girls. She sensed young Swagger standing over her now, his hand on the pistol. Mai Lin pushed herself to stand, and of course the rude fellow did not help her up.

"I want this wolf hide, too," she said.

"You want this, you want that," Swagger said, pointing the gun at her. "You better leave before you get something you don't want."

The girls tittered at this, but Mai Lin studied the young man with calm eyes. She could see that his time was soon to come, maybe not this day, but soon. She shuffled over to one of the other empty counters and yanked a satchel off her shoulder. She reached inside with both hands and poured out onto the dusty wood many bars of lye soap. On top of the heap, Mai Lin tossed wads of toweling material torn into small squares. Washcloths, the Americans called them.

"What useless things are those, old one?" young Swagger asked. He laughed, and the girls laughed, too.

"You smell worse than cattle," Mai Lin said.

Swagger stepped toward her and puffed out his chest. "You are one to talk, foul woman."

"That's right, I am an foul, old woman. Not a handsome young buck like you, who should not be covered by filth and lice."

He glanced down at his pistol and spun the cylinder, but Mai Lin could tell he was listening.

"And these lovely ladies," Mai Lin could not help spitting that incorrect word in their direction, "they should not be disgusting like me. They are not rancid old women. Not yet, anyway."

"All right, all right," he said. "I will keep the bars of soap. Now, get out of here before I decide you have lived too long."

Mai Lin glanced at the grandfathers and grandmothers who slouched on the barrels and benches around the edge of the room. None of them even looked up, that was how far things had gone in this land. Mai Lin turned back to Swagger.

"I will take the dead animal hide for the soap and rags. That is a fair trade."

He raised the pistol and pointed it directly at her forehead. Mai Lin did not flinch or turn away or say a word. His hand trembled ever so slightly, not enough for the others to notice. After a long moment, she reached out and gently pushed the gun aside.

The young man waved it toward the girls reclining on the rug and shouted at them, "Get up, lazy bitches. Bath time outside, now. Move!"

Their robes fluttered after them as they scurried out the door.

With his pistol, he pointed at the hide. "You can see by the bullet holes that it didn't do what it was supposed to do. My idiot brother thought this mangy thing would protect him. He was a romantic fool and got what he deserved. Go ahead, take it, old witch."

"And you will get what you deserve, too," she could not help saying.

Then she sucked on her quid and made herself stop speaking. Instead, she hobbled to the hide, grabbed a tattered corner, and dragged it over the dusty floorboards.

Outside, she gave the last bar of soap to a boy who helped her up onto the camel. His thin arms strained as he heaved the wolf hide over the emaciated animal's back. As she set off for the compound, she glanced back and saw that the boy was biting into the lye. There was no end to human ignorance, she thought. It was rampant all around and surely meant to drive her mad.