Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (10 page)

She could tell the exact moment that Max saw them too, as his stride increased with purpose. He quickly left her behind, and she slowed even more, giving him the distance he needed. When she saw a bench, she moved to it and sat down.

Max continued until he was at the trees, then he stood between the two spindly trunks. As Mari watched, she saw the slump of his shoulders and the dip of his head, almost as if he were praying. She wondered again why his daughter didn’t come with him to make this pilgrimage, especially since he’d said she was so entranced with China and her own history. But as Mari knew, children grew into adults and then had their own agendas—schedules that were much too busy to fit in childhood dreams. That was probably the case with Max’s daughter, but still, it was sad to see him experience such a special moment alone.

Finally he turned. She waited as he made his way back to her.

“How old was your daughter when she became yours?” Mari asked, her curiosity overcoming her good manners. Immediately she thought of the scolding her mama would have given her and she wished she could take the words back.

“She was officially declared my daughter when she was nine months old, but I think she belonged to me—or I belonged to her—the second she was born. It just took a few months, and many miles, for us to find our way to each other.”

He said the words so sincerely and solemnly that Mari believed it too. It could only be true, for the man’s love for his daughter shone through his very being. She wondered if perhaps that was the way her own baba felt about her, even though she was not made from his own flesh and blood. They’d always been close, but she had to admit, she hadn’t shared any of her recent troubles with her parents for fear that they’d think less of her for her failure to make her marriage thrive.

“Do you want to see more of the hutong?” she asked, ready to move on to a safer subject.

Max smiled. “No, I’ve seen all I need to see. We can go.”

Mari was relieved. She really needed to get up to the shed to check on Chu Chu.

“Can I leave you at the street? I need to go see about my husband’s camel.” They walked closely together as the lane narrowed.

“How about I go with you?” Max asked. “I’ve nothing better to do.”

Mari considered it for a moment. She looked at her watch. She still had a few hours before Bolin expected her home. If he was even awake enough to see the time.

“That’ll be fine, if you’re sure you don’t mind. It’s a long way up there.”

He took the lead, guiding her out of the hutong and back onto the street. “I don’t mind. And you need to tell me how much I owe you for today. And if you’re free again tomorrow, I have somewhere else I need to go.”

Mari waved at a taxi, and the driver hit his brakes, then backed up to them on the curb. Max opened the door for her and they climbed in. She didn’t have an answer for him, as she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. She thought of An Ni again, then her landlord. She needed to get her priorities in place—if she didn’t earn more money, she and Bolin might be joining the girl on the street soon.

One stop at the farmer’s market for a bundle of hay that Max insisted on paying for, and a half-hour taxi ride to the small dirt road that held the shed that housed Chu Chu, and Mari was exhausted. Max knew the way, and she let him take the lead and carry the hay as they walked.

“I probably shouldn’t ask, but where in the world did you find a camel to buy for your picture-taking business?” he asked.

Mari laughed. “We bartered for him with a neighboring farmer in my husband’s village. The old man used Chu Chu to carry heavy loads, but when Bolin presented a fat cow, he gladly traded.”

“Should I ask where you got a cow?”

“It’s fine. I know, this isn’t India—you don’t see cows just walking the streets. Bolin grew up in the country and his father is a farmer. Our wedding presents were few, but from his parents, the cow was one—and to Bolin, she represented a new venture and the city life he’d always dreamed of.”

“And you? Did you also dream of city life?” Max asked.

A vision of the hutong in Wuxi, her hometown, came to mind, and Mari shook her head. “I would’ve been happy staying close to my family, but a wife’s place is to follow her husband and support his dreams. I want Bolin to find success. I want to build a family with him.” She kicked at a few rocks in the road.

“Well, I for one can’t wait to see that stubborn camel of yours. I think he’s got quite a personality,” Max said and hurried his pace.

They walked another few minutes until the shed came into view. Usually, when Mari got near enough that Chu Chu could hear her, he started to snort and make some noise—usually to show his impatience. Today she heard nothing.

“That sure is a sturdy-looking shelter you have for your camel,” Max said.

Mari agreed. “It’s been here for ages. During Mao’s early reign, he didn’t care about the Great Wall, and the guards turned their heads when the peasants and farmers foraged it for raw materials. Many a farmhouse, barn, and reservoir were built with its stones.”

“That’s a shame,” Max said, and Mari could tell he meant it.

“It is, but the upside is that those structures built long ago with the strong materials of the wall remain standing, for the most part. We were able to rent this one for a fairly decent price.” She walked up the trodden path to the double doors and pulled her keys from her bag. After a few seconds of rifling through the ring, she opened the padlock and removed it from the bracket, then opened the doors.

“Chu Chu?” she called, wondering why he was so quiet. She walked into the dim building, and immediately she could see that he wasn’t standing in his stall, which meant he was lying down. “Oh no, he’s down. He must be sick.”

“Maybe I should go first,” Max said from behind her.

“No, he doesn’t really know you,” Mari worked her way over the messy floor, stepping over soiled boxes and old towels, pushing away a wave of irritation at Bolin for using the shed as a dumping ground for everything. “Chu Chu, what are you doing lying—”

She stopped mid-sentence. The camel wasn’t in the stall. She was dumbfounded. Where was he? Bolin couldn’t have been there, and she had the only key.

“What is it?” Max asked.

She finally found her voice. “He’s not here. He’s gone.”

“How can he be gone? Is there another way out of here?” Max put his hand on her shoulder.

Mari looked toward the back of the shed. “There is, but it’s bolted too.”

Max strode past her and to the far wall, pushing against the double doors. Mari felt another jolt of shock when they opened right up, and the light from the blue sky flooded in.

“…But—how—”

Max disappeared outside and then in seconds was back, holding up the padlock for her to see. “They cut it with bolt cutters.”

That much was obvious, but Mari couldn’t form a reply. All she could do was stand there as thoughts of their financial demise floated around her head. She and Bolin had no other way to make a living. He was temporarily—maybe even permanently?—disabled, and she didn’t have any other skills. The camel was their one link to building a business to cater to foreigners—and everyone knew with enough time, any business that dealt with
waiguorens
would flourish.

What would she do now? Work in a noodle shop? Sweep the streets? She felt a wave of dizziness. They’d lose everything.

“Mari, are you okay?” Max was coming at her.

She was still struck with disbelief.

“Mari!” he called out to her, then he was there, his eyes filled with concern.

She looked up at him and shook her head. He’d never understand. He came from a country that was known for abundance—complete with easy ways to get help from their government when people fell on hard times. Being absolutely alone and helpless wasn’t something he’d ever know. How
could
he understand?

“I’ve got to go home. My husband will be crushed.” Mari turned, her mind on nothing but the look she knew she’d see on Bolin’s face.

And she should feel guilty. It was her fault. She was the one to blame for leaving Chu Chu alone, and probably gave the thieves ample time to get far enough away to never be found.

Chapter Nine

T
he flights of stairs felt longer than they’d ever felt before as Mari trudged her way to the third floor. She thought of An Ni and wished again the day hadn’t gone so wrong. She’d wanted to look for her, had even planned on doing it that evening on her way home. But she wouldn’t have done it with Max beside her, and he’d refused to let her walk home alone. After he’d accompanied her to the local police precinct to file a report, Max had insisted on seeing her all the way to the door of their building, saying she was in no shape to navigate the city alone. He was right. She was shaken, and she really didn’t want to face Bolin. He’d depended on her to step up and take care of things as he tried to get a grasp back on life. But she’d let him down—she’d let them both down. If she hadn’t been gallivanting around town with Max, their camel would’ve been with her. Instead who knew where he was or if he was being cared for? For all she knew, he was being used to carry too-heavy loads, or even worse, being butchered.

She shuddered, then stopped to get her breath. Bolin never would admit it, but he loved that camel. Mari knew he saw it as a symbol of his independence from his family. And he’d also never admit that it hurt him when his parents refused to support his decision to go to the city. Bolin wasn’t the only child, or he’d have never gone. A farming family was allowed more than one child, and Bolin was born after a sister. He was the heir his father had prayed for, but his sister was the one with farming in her blood, not Bolin. He’d told her that it was clear his sister was born to be a farmer and he’d hated the country life. But their father couldn’t see past his son’s need to do something different. They hadn’t spoken in years.

Mari dropped to the stair, sitting down with her head in her hands. The image of his parents swam in her head. Bolin always thought he’d make it big, then show up in his tiny town and make them proud with gifts of red envelopes stuffed with money, to get them to change their minds about disowning him. His dreams just hadn’t happened for him, and Mari knew that was part of his depression. He felt like a failure. She didn’t understand, though, why he couldn’t let her in to his thoughts—share his disappointment with her, instead of shutting her out. He didn’t grasp the fact that she’d also left everything and everyone she’d ever known behind to come with him to Beijing. It was sad, but the truth was that they were together but both alone.

She stood and took a deep breath. Time to face him, because she wasn’t going to hide behind reality as he’d been doing. Her baba and mama had always taught her to take hardship by the horns and wrestle it to the ground.

Their floor arrived sooner than usual, and Mari felt as if she was taking the walk of shame, passing other apartments with open doors, happy voices, tantalizing smells of pork simmering and vegetables steaming. Signs of normal life—a life that she couldn’t have, as she made her way to her own too-quiet home to give her husband news that would only make him feel worse.

At the door she hesitated only a second, then unlocked it and turned the knob. The house was quiet as usual. Only the television droned on, a soap opera blasting dramatic music as a scene between two lovers played out.

“Bolin?” she called out as she dropped her bag on the table.

She looked over the kitchen counter at the couch. There he was, his back to her, like always. Mari didn’t know how he spent hour after hour sleeping, day and night, only waking up to medicate once again, then going back to it.

He moved, and Mari knew he was awake. She went to him and sat on the small piece of couch his body and blanket hadn’t claimed. Putting her arm on his back, she leaned down. She caught a whiff of his odor and knew he hadn’t even left the couch to bathe that day. “Bolin, are you awake? We need to talk.”

He turned over, surprising Mari that she didn’t have to coax him.

“I’m out of pills, Mari. You have to go to the doctor.” He handed her the empty bottle that he’d been clutching against his chest. His hair stood up in tufts, much too long and in need of a haircut. Another expense they couldn’t afford. “Did you hear me? I need you to go get me more.”

Mari sighed. She did have some money, thanks to Max and her impromptu tour guide job—but she’d planned to use that for their rent. It wasn’t time for him to be out of medication. “You took all those today?”

He nodded, looking like a scared little boy. Mari didn’t have the heart to even yell or scream. It was done. But she was disappointed beyond belief.

“You told me you were an adult and could hold on to your own medicine. Remember, Bolin? You acted like I was the bad guy, treating you like a child. And now look—you took it all.”

He shook his head in denial. “It’s not my fault, Mari. I just got confused last night. And I need a bigger dose anyway. Those aren’t helping me. I’m still in pain, and I can’t sleep.”

Mari stood up. She didn’t want to fight with him. But she knew the doctor was not going to give him anything stronger. She already got the feeling that the doctor thought her husband was milking his injury and should’ve been up and around by now. A part of her—the unsympathetic part that she tried to squash—tended to agree.

There was only one way to do it and that was to just put it bluntly. “Bolin, I need to tell you something. Chu Chu was stolen.”

She jerked back when Bolin sat up as if a string was attached to his head and someone jerked it upright.

“Stolen? What do you mean? Stolen right out from under your nose?”

Now for the kicker. Mari felt small.

“No, stolen from the shed. I didn’t have him with me today.” She pulled her shoulders back, ready for his attack.

Bolin’s eyes narrowed until she couldn’t even see his pupils. “What were you doing, Mari?”

“I had a different job. It’s been difficult lately getting customers for photos, and I was offered a good fee to be a guide.” She kept the irritation out of her voice, hoping he’d drop it. But she also didn’t want to tell him more about Max.

Bolin picked up a throw pillow and buried his face in it. He mumbled something and rocked back and forth.

“What? I can’t understand you,” Mari said, trying to pry the pillow from him.

Bolin dropped it, then screamed at her. “
I saw you
!”

“What do you mean, you saw me?” Mari felt the earth shift under her.

“I saw you with
him
—the
waiguoren.
He had his arm around you, Mari. You were out with some foreigner and let Chu Chu get taken!”

Was Max’s arm around her when he walked her to the door? Mari couldn’t remember. If it was, she sure hadn’t known it. But of all things for Bolin to see, nothing could be worse. He had a serious dislike for the relationships that local girls forged with foreigners, feeling as if they were selling their souls—their heritages—for a sum.

“It’s not like that, Bolin. He was with me when I went to the shed to check on Chu Chu, and I was—”

“See! Why did you take him to the shed? What were you going to do there?” He pointed his finger in her face, and Mari saw rage. She’d never been afraid of Bolin before, but now—this was a new side of him.

“Bolin, please calm down. You aren’t being rational. He’s just a customer—someone wanting a guide to help him get all the details so he can write a story about China. I swear.” She pleaded with him now, begging him to hear the truth through his haze of anger.

Bolin took some deep breaths, then put his hand to his head. He lay back down and turned to face the back of the couch. He was shutting down again. “My head hurts. I need my pills. Please.”

Mari got up, grabbed her backpack, and left the apartment. They hadn’t put together a plan. She didn’t know how they’d pay their rent, and it was due in two weeks. But her husband’s pills were more important than the roof over their head. He obviously cared for nothing other than getting his fix.

For a second, she thought about calling her parents. They’d do what they could, but Mari knew their life was a struggle, too. She would not add to it. She’d just have to figure it all out herself, just like she’d been doing for months.

Three hours later, she’d had no luck scoring any street drugs for Bolin. In her defense—not that anyone was accusing her, but she did feel guilty—before she’d hit the streets, she’d called the doctor, and he’d refused to refill Bolin’s prescription for more pain pills. He insisted that she get Bolin to see him so he could be re-evaluated.

Mari knew from the doctor’s tone that if she pushed him, he’d declare Bolin an addict. Then where would they be? The doctor had the authority to have her husband committed, or even jailed if he felt it was warranted!

She turned the corner, tired but anxious to see if An Ni was there. From her days on the street as a child, she remembered that if she didn’t make her quota of coins, many nights she was forced to keep begging late into the early morning hours, hitting up the patrons leaving bars and parties, encouraged to pull at their drunken heart strings.