A Map for the Missing(101)

“Hi, ma’am. We’re here because we heard from the police that a man came in here?”

“What?” she cupped her ear at them.

“I said, we heard from the police that a man came in here. I think I might know him.”

“Oh! Yes, yes, Officer Ju said someone might be coming. We were wondering what was taking you so long.”

“We just got the news—”

“We were worried about him! We thought someone should have come and helped him immediately. In fact, I wanted to, but then he never came back! And now, how many days have passed?” She opened her hand and counted off the days on her fingertips, marking each one with a mutter. “Eight! Eight!”

“I would have come sooner. I didn’t hear about this until yesterday.”

“What took them so long to tell you? Sometimes I really wonder about what the police are doing.”

“Tell us about this man,” Yitian’s mother interrupted. He could see she’d grown impatient.

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there,” the old woman said. She leaned her elbows against the cashier stand, appearing to settle in. “Well, eight days ago he came in, and he seemed to be very confused, obviously. I thought, someone needs to help him! I wondered if he was one of the old people who’d lost their minds, to be honest with you. You know the kind?”

“What puts you in a position to judge that? Are you a doctor?” his mother snapped. She pulled on Yitian’s hand, ready to leave.

“Just hold on one second,” he said to his mother. And then, to the shopkeeper, “Auntie, was this the man?” He passed her the photograph of his father.

She squinted into the picture. Then her face broke into recognition. “Yes, yes, this is definitely him!” She tapped furiously at his father’s face.

“Are you sure?” He winced at the deep creases her wrinkled hand were already pressing into the photograph. “It’s an old picture, but it’s all we have.”

“Even I can hardly recognize your father in that picture,” his mother whispered.

“Do you remember anything else? His height?” Yitian asked.

The old woman bit her lip, then said, “It wasn’t notable. Probably about average.” After Yitian’s mother sighed in exasperation, she added, “But there was something—he had a limp, I think.”

“A limp? You’re positive?”

“Well, I don’t know if it was a limp, but he was walking strangely. At first I couldn’t tell why I thought something was off. He was pretty good at hiding it. But when he turned around to leave, I noticed. It would have been pretty hard for him to walk any farther by himself. That’s why I was worried for him, you see?”

“Do you remember which leg it was on?”

“I think . . . left? No, left, I’m sure. Because when he walked away from the counter, he bumped into that pile.” She pointed. “We had to rearrange the stack after he’d gone.”

“It was him.”

“Who?”

“My father.” He felt his mother’s hand clench around his. It made no sense. Why would his father come this way, and for a bookstore, of all places? But a second thought toward logic fought this first—everything about the description was too close to his father’s.

“Oh, this man you’re looking for, it was your father! Well, I see now why you came, although, honestly—you should have come sooner. Now that you mention it, he did speak of a son.”

“Really? What did he say?”

She chewed at the insides of her mouth, sinking her cheeks even deeper. “He said his son was very strong, very capable. He said you were the most powerful person in the village, the one who worked the most during every harvest. But even then I thought, this man is bragging—you know how the old men like to brag about their children? No offense, but look at you. You can’t be the strongest man in the village, right?”

Then it was Yishou his father had tried to search out. Yishou who it had always been. Even in that final haze of the corridors into which his father’s memory had been transformed, there his older brother was, at the end of each one. When he’d learned of his father’s disappearance, Yitian had been so shocked that there’d been no room left in his heart for sadness or any other emotion. The feeling at this new understanding was nothing like that. He’d never be able to write a new story that would replace the one his father told about him.

“Are you all right?” the shopkeeper said. She peered at him with genuine concern, and Yitian felt a stab of affection for this old woman he’d only just met. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Your father must have really cared for you, to go out there and look for you. He said he was walking from your village all the way to Hefei City, just to go talk to his son! That’s a long walk, I told him. Why don’t you take a bus? That’s how I knew something wasn’t right in his head. And also, if his son was farming like he said, what was he doing out in Hefei? I could tell you guys had gotten into some fight, is that right?”

“Was he asking you for directions? Is that why he came in here?” His head still swam with unanswered questions.

“No, no! Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying? You haven’t understood me. He knew he was going to Hefei. That wasn’t what he was confused about. No, he came in here because he said he was looking for a book, and he knew our town was known for its old library. He wanted to give a gift to his son when he saw him, your father said. That’s when he started talking about you. How you loved to read, but he never bought you any books when you were younger. How interesting, I thought. He has this son who’s so good at farming but also loves to read. No offense, but that seems like a wasted talent to me. Take my advice,” she leaned closer to Yitian. “If you’re farming, stop! Why would you do that if you could get an education? Move to the city, get an urban hukou. That’s where all the real money is.”