Made in China by Amelia Pang

Author:Amelia Pang [Pang, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

15: We Made It

Hesitant to contact his ex-wife, Sun spent his first night in Beijing at a friend’s home. He waited until the next evening to call her.

“Where are you now?” May asked. Her voice held the emotions of years of unsaid words.

“I’m close to home,” he said. “Are you home?”

“Yes,” she said.

They were both quiet for a moment.

“Then I’ll be home soon,” he said.

May opened the door. She had more wrinkles, but still the same elegant eyebrows and porcelain skin. She noticed his hair was white but said nothing. They were strangers again.

Sun stepped inside. He took in the familiar furnishings: the Swiss cheese plant, the empty fish tank, the bamboo wave screen illuminated by an early evening light. A faint fragrance wafted in from the clothes that were drying on the balcony. It was the same fabric softener as before.

The old Pomeranian, Cong Cong, wobbled out, looking up at Sun.

“Our dog is still alive,” he said, moved.

The dog did not jump to greet him.

“He probably doesn’t remember you anymore,” May said.

A pause.

“Did anyone follow you?” she asked. She looked worried.

“Cong Cong has no teeth now,” Sun said, caressing the dog’s jaw. “Why doesn’t he bark anymore?”

“He’s too old,” she said. “He only barks when he’s in pain.”

“Did you check to see if you were followed?” May asked again.

“I wasn’t followed,” Sun said.

He opened the door to his study and turned on the light. Dense cobwebs veiled the room, which had not been touched since the raid two and a half years ago. He watched a spider scramble across the lampshade.

His chair was flipped over on the floor, next to jumbled papers, books, and power cables. The white window screen was gray from dust. Sun knew about the raid, but seeing the residue of violence from that evening unmoored him. “She suffered a lot because of me all these years,” Sun later said. “I don’t know how I could ever”—he paused to search for the words—“make it up to her.”

Sun tidied his office a bit before going to bed. There was a new incense plate next to the TV in their bedroom. Unaccustomed to space, he stretched his arms out slowly. He observed the outlines of family pictures on the wall. He had trouble falling asleep in the dark; the lights were always on in the labor camp. Darkness was the shade of freedom.

By the next morning, May had gotten over the initial shock of his return.

“Are you sure no one was following you?”

“I don’t think I was followed.”

“Then you can live at home?” she said, her expression softening. She handed him a set of house keys. “What did you feel when you read my letter?”

Sun was quiet.

“Never mind,” she said. “I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t want to know,” she said again.

Although Sun and May had divorced to keep May and her family safe, they remained married in their hearts. Unable to lift his left arm, Sun struggled with daily tasks such as showering and walking down the stairs.

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