The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane(25)
Later, in the forest, I ask San-pa what my a-ba meant. “What does he think he’s heard about you that puts you in such an inky light?”
But San-pa puts his mouth over mine, and we start conversing in other ways.
That afternoon we begin to make a plan.
“We’ll move away together,” I say. “We’ll walk to Menghai. We’ll be married there, and no one will stop us.”
He tucks escaped wisps of my hair back under the protection of my day-to-day headdress. “I am a man,” he says. “You are a woman. It is my duty to care for you. I will make the decision. You will stay here and take the gaokao. I will leave Nannuo Mountain to find work in one of the other countries where the Akha roam—”
“But can’t we stay together? I’ll go with you. Laos is so close. Myanmar too—”
“No!” His voice is surprisingly sharp. “It is not right. Your father would never forgive me. I will go . . . to Thailand.” Does he decide on this country to remind me that he’s in charge? “It’s a long walk—maybe two hundred and fifty kilometers on a map, but much longer through the mountains. But what are mountains to me? I’ll make it in ten days, maybe less. You keep studying and take the gaokao. When I return with my pockets heavy with good fortune, I’ll find you at your college. I’ll join the market economy and make even more money. After you graduate, we’ll ask a village where people don’t know us if we might be allotted a piece of land. I’ll farm, and you’ll be a leader of women.” He stares into my eyes, surely seeking how deep my love is for him. “We’ll tell people I was born on a more compatible day—”
“We could never lie about the lineage!”
“We won’t have to. I’m suggesting the change of just one word from Tiger to Sheep. From now on, that’s what I’ll claim when I meet someone new. It will give us a fresh beginning.”
I’m not sure this fabrication is a good idea or that the false label will change the essence of who he is, but I consent to his plan. He will one day be my husband, and I will be his wife. I must learn to obey, if we are to be happy.
He rips two thick threads from the hem of his tunic. “When going far away, strings must be tied around wrists. I’ll be tied to you, and you’ll be tied to me.” He loops one of the threads around my wrist and makes a tight knot. As I do the same for him, he continues. “This proves we’re human, because spirits don’t have strings. I promise to come back with enough money to buy a rice farm and marry you, a girl I’ve known and loved since childhood. We’re going to your a-ma and a-ba right now to tell them.”
My entire family—all my brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, and my parents—listens to us when we gather in the common room. There is a saying in the Han majority culture about a smiling face hiding bad intentions. That’s what I see when I look at the faces that belong to my family. Their mouths say the correct words, but behind their tongues are deeper truths, and they permeate the room.
“Do you want to give up your opportunity to finish school and go to university?” A-ba asks San-pa, when what he really means is, Go away and never come back.
“Your parents will be proud of you,” A-ma says, but her entire body radiates a message as strong as the sun: You talk like a flying eagle, but your hands are like Chinese sour vegetables, meaning, he can talk big all he wants, but he’ll forever be a pancake stealer in her eyes.
“This will change the direction of your story,” First Brother states, although he could just as easily be saying, Once you leave here, you’ll forget about my sister. So be it.
My family walks San-pa to the village gate, which means that we don’t have a chance for private goodbyes. Still, San-pa says loud enough for everyone to hear, “I promise to come for you, Li-yan.”
He backs away, slowly, slowly, not for a second taking his eyes off me. I’m so blinded by tears that I don’t see what’s about to happen, and my family—curse them—doesn’t call out to warn San-pa until it’s too late. Instead of passing cleanly through the spirit gate, he backs right into it. It’s the worst omen possible and strictly taboo. Even San-pa is startled and alarmed, so much so that he turns and bounds into the forest.
“I hope his parents perform cleansing rituals for him,” A-ba comments.
“It doesn’t matter. The damage has already been done,” A-ma says, barely hiding her contempt. “Come. We must visit the ruma. We need to be cleansed.”
THE GREEDY EYES OF A TIGER
The day after San-pa leaves, I visit Ci-teh. We sit on the floor and talk, as though my coolness toward her when San-pa was here never happened. “We are as jungle vines,” she says, even though I’ve hurt her. “Our roots will forever be entwined in friendship.”
“Our friendship will go on as far as the stars,” I agree, and finally tell her everything about San-pa.
My friend doesn’t warn me about him or criticize him. Instead, she closes her eyes and sighs. “One day I’ll be as happy as you. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could marry out to the same village, come to a head together, and help our children to be as close as we are?”
I squeeze her hand and silently make the same wish too.
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