Mona in the Promised Land by Gish Jen

Author:Gish Jen [Jen, Gish]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82658-9
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-08-29T00:00:00+00:00

Later it will turn out that this is not exactly the Underground Railroad. Later it will turn out that this is the Underground Railroad remade into a passageway for a bomb shelter. But for now the explorers explore as explorers will, which is to say with their feet firmly planted on what they think they know. Back up on the open lawn, by the brilliant light of the sun, they count the water sprinklers. The eighth one to the northwest of the house does indeed skirt the woods; they dig a little here, a little there, starting from the sprinkler, making their way on out along the feeder hose. The ground begins to look like the acorn pantry of a large forgetful squirrel. Until just when they are about to give up, a piece of ground collapses under Barbara’s foot. Hooray! They do a little dance, until they realize that the tunnel too has collapsed some, and they are collapsing it more by celebrating.

They stabilize the tunnel with two-by-fours. This takes some enterprise. Also they fashion an entrance, with a stepladder down; the door is a metal garbage can lid laden with mossy camouflage. Worried as they are about the dirt needs of the moss, Mona can hardly lift the lid. However, Alfred can, which is what matters. The moisture in the tunnel they soak up with kitty litter; Alfred they equip with a heavy-duty flashlight. And the next thing they know, it seems the most natural thing in the world for Alfred to be popping in and out of Barbara’s basement.

As for his room: Barbara’s house having an annex, there is a series of tiny rooms right upstairs from the garage. These were servants’ quarters at one point, and now are mostly empty, only the last two still house objects once useful to their occupants. It’s as if someone had meant to clean out the whole shebang but for some reason quit three quarters of the way down the hall. With the result that in one room there are lamps and tables; an old phonograph turned into a potter’s wheel; some old dresses with perspiration stains; and a beasty mink stole complete with a beady-eyed head and businesslike claws. Also a girdle. Barbara holds this up.

“I came, I held in my stomach, I conquered,” says Mona.

Alfred occupies himself with the closet door. “This door’s not hung straight,” he says. “I bet it doesn’t close right, either.” He seems pleased when, sure enough, it doesn’t. He sits down on a bare gray mattress, bounces a little, trying it out. There’s no bounce. “It’s all right, I guess,” he says.

“You sure?” Barbara sits down too.

Alfred strokes his smooth-shaved jaw, contemplative. They move on to the next room, expecting more of the same. But, surprise: This room is completely furnished, and splendidly. There is a moth-eaten blue velvet chair; also lace curtains. And children’s toys—the owner before Barbara’s dad had some six or seven kids. But these are small distraction from the lion’s head door knocker on the door, and the full two thirds of a fancy-stitch throw on the bed.

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