The Hundred Secret Senses. Amy Tan
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Название: The Hundred Secret Senses
Автор: Amy Tan
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780007385690
isbn:
Hell yes, I’m furious with my mother. This morning she asked if she could drop by to cheer me up. And then she spent two hours comparing my failed marriage with hers to Bob. A lack of commitment, an unwillingness to make sacrifices, no give, all take – those are the common faults she’s noticed in Simon and Bob. And she and I both ‘gave, gave, gave from the bottom of our hearts.’ She bummed a cigarette from me, then a match.
‘I saw it coming,’ she said, and inhaled deeply. ‘Ten years ago. Remember that time Simon went to Hawaii and left you home when you had the flu?’
‘I told him to go. We had nonrefundable airline tickets and he could sell only one.’ Why was I defending him?
‘You were sick. He should have been giving you chicken soup rather than cavorting on the beach.’
‘He was cavorting with his grandmother. She’d had a stroke.’ I was starting to sound as whiny as a kid.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘Sweetie, you don’t have to be in denial anymore. I know what you’re feeling. I’m your mother, remember?’ She stubbed out her cigarette before assuming her matter-of-fact, social worker manner: ‘Simon didn’t love you enough, because he was lacking, not you. You are abundantly lovable. There is nothing wrong with you.’
I gave a stiff nod. ‘Mom, I really should get to work now.’
‘You go right ahead. I’ll just have another cup of coffee.’ She looked at her watch and said, ‘The exterminators flea-bombed my apartment at ten. Just to be safe, I’d like to wait another hour before I go back.’
And now I’m sitting at my desk, unable to work, completely drained. What the hell does she know about my capacity for love? Does she have any idea how many times she’s hurt me without knowing it? She complains that all that time she spent with Bob was a big waste. What about me? What about the time she didn’t spend with me? Wasn’t that a waste too? And why am I now devoting any energy to thinking about this? I’ve been reduced to a snivelly little kid again. There I am, twelve years old, facedown on my twin bed, a corner of the pillow stuffed into my mouth so that Kwan can’t hear my mangled sobs.
‘Libby-ah,’ Kwan whispers, ‘something matter? You sick? Eat too much Christmas cookie? Next time I don’t make so sweet. … Libby-ah, you like my present? You don’t like, tell me, okay? I make you another sweater. You tell me what color. Knit it take me only one week. I finish, wrap up, like surprise all over again. … Libby-ah? I think Daddy Mommy come back from Yosemite Park bring you beautiful present, pictures too. Pretty snow, mountaintop … Don’t cry! No! No! You not mean this. How you can hate you own mother? … Oh? Daddy Bob too? Ah, zemma zaogao. …‘
Libby-ah, Libby-ah? Can I turn on the light? I want to show you something. …
Okay, okay! Don’t get mad! I’m sorry. I’m turning it off. See? It’s dark again. Go back to sleep. … I was going to show you the pen that fell out of Daddy Bob’s trouser pocket. … You tilt it one way, you see a lady in a blue dress. You tilt it the other way, wah! – the dress falls down. I’m not lying. See for yourself. I’ll turn on the light. Are you ready? … Oh, Libby-ah, your eyes are swollen big as plums! Put the wet towel back over them. Tomorrow they won’t itch as much. … The pen? I saw it sneaking out of his pocket when we were at Sunday mass. He didn’t notice because he was pretending to pray. I know it was just pretend, mm-hmm, because his head went this way – booomp! – and he was snoring. Nnnnnnnhhh! It’s true! I gave him a little push. He didn’t wake up, but his nose stopped making those sounds. Ah, you think that’s funny? Then why are you laughing?
So anyway, after a while I looked at the Christmas flowers, the candles, the colored glass. I watched the priest waving the smoky lantern. Suddenly I saw Jesus walking through the smoke! Yes, Jesus! I thought he had come to blow out his birthday candles. I told myself, Finally I can see him – now I am a Catholic! Oh, I was so excited. That’s why Daddy Bob woke up and pushed me down.
I kept smiling at Jesus, but then I realized – ah? – that man was not Jesus but my old friend Lao Lu! He was pointing and laughing at me. ‘Fooled you,’ he said, ‘I’m not Jesus! Hey, you think he has a bald head like mine?’ Lao Lu walked over to me. He waved his hand in front of Daddy Bob. Nothing happened. He touched his little finger light as a fly on Daddy Bob’s forehead. Daddy Bob slapped himself. He slowly pulled the nasty pen from Daddy Bob’s pocket and rolled it into a fold of my skirt.
‘Hey,’ Lao Lu said. ‘Why are you still going to a foreigners’ church? You think a callus on your butt will help you see Jesus?’
Don’t laugh, Libby-ah. What Lao Lu said was not polite. I think he was remembering our last lifetime together, when he and I had to sit on the hard bench for two hours every Sunday. Every Sunday! Miss Banner too. We went to church for so many years and never saw God or Jesus, not Mary either, although back then it was not so important to see her. In those days, she was also mother to baby Jesus but only concubine to his father. Now everything is Mary this and that! – Old St. Mary’s, Mary’s Help, Mary Mother of God, forgiving me my sins. I’m glad she got a promotion. But as I said, in those days, the Jesus Worshippers did not talk about her so much. So I had to worry only about seeing God and Jesus. Every Sunday, the Jesus Worshippers asked me, ‘Do you believe?’ I had to say not yet. I wanted to say yes to be polite. But then I would have been lying, and when I died maybe they would come after me and make me pay two kinds of penalty to the foreign devil, one for not believing, another for pretending that I did. I thought I couldn’t see Jesus because I had Chinese eyes. Later I found out that Miss Banner never saw God or Jesus either. She told me she wasn’t a religious kind of person.
I said, ‘Why is that, Miss Banner?’
And she said, ‘I prayed to God to save my brothers. I prayed for him to spare my mother. I prayed that my father would come back to me. Religion teaches you that faith takes care of hope. All my hopes are gone, so why do I need faith anymore?’
‘Ai!’ I said. ‘This is too sad! You have no hopes?’
‘Very few,’ she answered. ‘And none that are worth a prayer.’
‘What about your sweetheart?’
She sighed. ‘I’ve decided he’s not worth a prayer either. He deserted me, you know. I wrote letters to an American navy officer in Shanghai. My sweetheart’s been there. He’s been in Canton. He’s even been in Guilin. He knows where I am. So why hasn’t he come?’
I was sad to hear that. At the time, I didn’t know her sweetheart was General Cape. ‘I still have many hopes of finding my family again,’ I said. ‘Maybe I should become a Jesus Worshipper.’
‘To be a true worshipper,’ she said, ‘you must give your whole body to Jesus.’
‘How much do you give?’
She held up her thumb. I was astonished, because every Sunday she preached the sermon. СКАЧАТЬ