Sun and Moon! Am I sick! I’m so sick going around the curves and over the bumpy roads that I think I might die. I hang my head over the edge of the truck, and everything pours out of me. This is so much worse than Mr. Huang’s mountain vehicle, which was small and I could sit in the front seat. Even when I’m empty, the nausea doesn’t leave.
For every kilometer, I feel the past stalking me. As we veer ominously close to the edge of the steep mountain road, I recall yet another mistake I’ve made. At every jolt over rocks or dip through rain-eroded holes, I have to accept in my bones the price I’ve paid. A-ma said, “Always follow Akha Law,” but all my errors have stemmed from ignoring the very principles that make me who I am. I’ve learned and been scarred by the inevitability of pain and defeat. Now that I’m totally alone, I feel the blessings of my culture feeding me strength. I gave birth to a daughter and lost her. I married the man I loved and lost him—in so many ways. I may be separated from my family, my village, and my mountain, but in my heart I’m connected to them more than ever.
We finally arrive on flat land. The truck grinds past the Social Welfare Institute. My daughter is not there. She’s journeyed afar. This knowledge gives me the last bit of courage I need to find the bus station after I’m dropped off, buy my ticket, and suffer more sickness all the way to Kunming.
The bus pulls into Kunming late at night. I thought Menghai was big, but it is a fleabite compared to Kunming. Most of the roads are paved with cobblestones or asphalt. The crooked lanes are crowded. Concrete buildings six stories high loom over houses made from mud. I find my way to the trade school, show the letter from Teacher Zhang at the guard gate, and am escorted to a dormitory, where beds are stacked two high, side by side, down both sides of the room. I lie on top of the blanket. I hear other girls breathing. Teacher Zhang comes into my mind. Over the years, as he tutored me, I realized how much he lost by being sent to Nannuo Mountain. I also remember how Ci-teh and I used to speculate about why he never returned home to Beijing and what he possibly could have done to have been forever exiled. But what if remaining with us was his choice? Maybe he understood that he could never go home. What if that happens to me?
I roll over and cry into my pillow, hoping no one will hear my misery. That thought moves in a new and even sadder direction: perhaps they hear me but don’t care enough to inquire if they can do anything to help. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. I won’t allow them to see me ache. I won’t allow them to see me suffer.
PART III
THE OUTSIDE WORLD
1996–2006
Selected e-mail correspondence over eight years from Constance Davis to her mother November 24, 1996
Mom,
Haley’s first birthday party was a huge success. A true celebration of life, good health, and thankfulness. I wish you and Dad had been here.
Haley’s doing extremely well. What a difference it makes to read Goodnight Moon in her room instead of in the hospital! And you should see Dan. He’s got her in the backyard all the time, talking to her about trees, as though she understands every word he says. We’re so happy. She’s a miracle that’s come to make our lives joyous. I wish she’d sleep a little, though. What an insomniac! (I can practically hear you laughing. What goes around comes around.) I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past months without your help and support. I bet Dad’s glad to have you home, but I sure miss you.
Constance
* * *
September 20, 1997
Mom,
We’ve joined a group called Families with Children from China—just in time for us to celebrate the Moon Festival. Everyone in FCC has adopted baby girls from China, now ranging in age from a few months to around ten years old. There are another four families with daughters Haley’s age. Seeing the way the kids’ eyes light up when they see each other makes me realize that Haley—and we—will never be alone. I’m so grateful for this community, because I now know we’ve got a rougher road ahead of us than we imagined.
A policeman came up to me the other day and asked what I was doing with Haley. He thought I was a kidnapper! I was totally shocked. Then he tried to make up for his mistake by asking if I had any children of my own. Haley is my own! I’ve already told you how total strangers ask, “Where did you get her?” like she’s a purse or something. And you should hear what people have said to some of the other moms.
“Are you the babysitter?”
“Does this one belong to you? I thought she might be lost.”
“How much did she cost?”
“Is it hard for you to love her when she doesn’t look like you?”
People can be so cruel and unthinking. But here’s what bothers me the most. Haley doesn’t yet realize what they’re saying, but she will. What will I tell her then? How will I comfort her? She’ll always know she was adopted, because she doesn’t look like us. I don’t want her to be hurt. We went through so much to get her. And all the medical stuff. We almost lost her five times. If I punch out some dope in Trader Joe’s, will you come and bail me out? (Just kidding. Or not. We’ll see.) I’m really missing you right now.
Constance
* * *
June 3, 1998
Hi, Mom,
Sorry I haven’t answered your e-mails, but I’ve been bogged down with end-of-the-year stuff—grading finals, writing recommendation letters, etc. Dan’s also been busy. It feels like half the women in Pasadena have been calling him to deal with a new invasive mite from Mexico that’s attacking everyone’s citrus trees. Haley tags along with Dan everywhere he goes. She’s inherited his love of trees. There’s magic in that, don’t you think? (I know. I know. I’m a scientist. But still . . .) Now that Dad’s fully retired, why don’t you move out here? Maine is so far away. Don’t you want to see your granddaughter grow up?
Constance
* * *
October 31, 1999
Dear Mom,
Today Haley’s preschool celebrated Halloween. The other girls did all the usual things—princesses and the like—but Haley wanted to be an astronaut. She said, “Girls can be astronauts too, Mom!” I’m so proud of her! (See attached photo.) Hugs and kisses to you and Dad,
Constance
* * *
March 15, 2000
Mom,
Haley’s having a recurrence of her C. diff. Dr. Katz has been great. Dr. Siegel too. We’re all working really hard to keep her from having to be admitted to the hospital again. God damn superbug. Oh, Mom, it’s just so scary.
Constance
* * *
August 21, 2001
Dear Mom,