Brother Chapter 52

Fifty-two

Though leaves are many, the root is one;

Through all the lying days of my youth

Now I may wither into the truth.

–Percy Bysshe Shelley, Coming of Wisdom with Time

It was a bit late by the time they returned to the cottage.

Auntie Lin had prepared dinner and left it on the table. She also had left a conventional note saying Ah-Qiang would come at noon tomorrow to drive them to the airport.

He stood up and smiled to his brother. “You take your time. I’m going to take a shower.”

He reached around and touched the skin there. He probably got burnt by the sun after the afternoon on the skerry.

On the table were empty bowls and plates, and his brother was on the couch watching television.

“What are you watching?”

Xu Ping didn’t mind.

Every minute, every second, was precious because he could stay with his brother, even if it was watching television together or making small talk.

He watched as the light from the screen tinted his brother’s face.

A decade old film, Scent of a Woman, was playing. Al Pacino played a blind lieutenant colonel who was dancing with a woman on the dance floor in a restaurant.

“I think I’d be a little afraid.”

“Afraid of making a mistake.”

Xu Ping gently touched his brother’s face.

Xu Ping leaned in and kissed his lips.

In the graceful music, Xu Ping shifted away and rested his head on his shoulder.

He didn’t want to let his brother see his tears.

The room was dim, and the television screen projected waves of light into it illuminating half of his brother’s handsome face.

He pulled him by the hand up from the couch. “Would you like to dance with me?”

“That’s fine,” Xu Ping whispered.

“Follow my lead.”

His brother’s strong arms were stiffly wrapped around him, and his feet were completely out of sync.

“Gege…”

“Shhh…”

The music gradually faded away, but no one paid any attention to that.

They spun round and round like the rainy ripples on a lake.

Xu Ping cried in silence into his brother’s shoulder. The dark hid all signs of it, just as rain fell unbeknownst on the boundless ocean – silently it fell, and silently it disappeared.

Xu Ping awoke from his slumber. The digital clock by the bed told him it was only ten past four in the morning.

He lay in bed. The sky was still black, and he could hear the waves hitting the beach and the ocean breeze whooshing between the coconut tree leaves.

Xu Ping turned his head and called softly, “Xiao-Zheng.”

Xu Ping turned to his side to face his brother and touched his brother’s forehead.

The window was open, and the breeze sneaked into the room through the tiny crack and brought the white curtains to a delicate dance in the air.

Carefully, he eased himself off of the bed, and as though he were performing a mime, he picked up the clothes on the floor and dressed himself.

He began tidying the clothes in the bathroom, folding each and packing it into the luggage.

Xu Ping rearranged the couch and then rolled up his sleeves to man the sink.

A tiny, frightened bug fled from the leftover bits of food and circled about unsteadily before disappearing into the darkness.

Squeak. The tap was twisted shut. Head bent, Xu Ping scrubbed at the counter with a dishcloth, and after he finished he wrung it dry and hung it on the cupboard handle.

Head down, Xu Ping waited patiently.

Xu Ping knew dawn was coming.

The water in the kettle began bubbling, so Xu Ping turned the kettle off and poured the boiling liquid into a cup.

The white steam rose up like a screen in front of his face, but before anyone could notice it vanished without a trace.

Some three seagulls were already flying above, circling near the water and cawing brightly.

Standing on the beach, Xu Ping waited for sunrise.

Xu Ping couldn’t remember the last time he watched a sunrise. He had been busy all his life, waging a war against himself, against the world, everyday – busy going to work, busy getting off work, busy taking care of his brother, busy buying groceries and preparing meals, and busy struggling to stay alive.

Slowly he lowered his head into his hands.

His life had died in its womb before it could actually begin, for he had dreams in the past and they, like blossoms that came forth from the soil of his heart, were crushed by the wheels of destiny before he could ever water them properly.

Someone once told him it was just bad luck. He struggled to piece himself back together but in that process lost many things. He no longer believed fate and held no hope.

He thought his life would end in toilsome dreariness, but even this lowly thought was going to be taken from him.

The sun rose above the horizon. A golden light, one that nobody could face directly, shot out in all directions chasing away the darkness. And in that moment, the world seemed brand new.

Xu Ping reached out his hands and watched the dawn light shine on his palms and the grooves grow like branches across the surface. He slowly flipped his right hand over and watched the light dance off of his hand like little elves.

A tiny crab shuffled out from a hole in the sand, shook the sand off from its shell and raced for the water. In a few waves’ time, it was gone.

The sky was completely light now. His brother would soon wake up, and they would eat the last breakfast and clean the dishes. And then Ah-Qiang would come pick them up with that white van of his, gladly carry their luggage for them and drive them to the airport.

But that was not what he did.

He wanted to take one last swim by himself before his brother awoke.

He felt the seawater gently lifting him up.
He tilted his head to the side and began to paddle.

Xu Ping did not know where he was going or how far he wanted to go, but he just kept swimming.

The waves surged around his body, as if the whole world was trying to stop his advance.

He could smell the light sting of the seawater which burned his back.

He recalled his brother learning to speak very late and all the times he called him “Gege” while pulling the edge of his shirt; he recalled his dad leaving the city for work and the five-year-old Xu Zheng sitting on a mazha waiting intently for the nine-year-old Xu Ping to start cooking; he recalled his brother getting acute enteritis in the middle of the night, his taking him to the hospital on the back of his bicycle, and Xu Zheng lying on the cot holding his hand whispering, “Gege, it hurts.”

Xiao-Zheng, Gege is probably going to die soon.

The white cottage stood in silence against the morning light. The beach was deserted.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He felt as though his insides were broken down by the angst, but he couldn’t get a single syllable out of his mouth.

He had never begged any person or any entity for anything. He didn’t believe in God or Buddha; he didn’t revere the demons and spirits. Even during the days of physical turmoil in prison, he had grit his teeth and borne through it by himself. But here and now, Xu Ping truly wished that someone or some entity could listen to his plea, come to him, give unto him hope and courage and guide him through this treacherous milestone.

To his surprise, he sank beneath the waves and drank mouthfuls of saltwater before he could make his way up again.

“I don’t want to die. I want to live! Xiao-Zheng needs me. I need to live!” he thought frantically while he struggled to stay afloat.

His arms flapped furiously as he bobbed up and down.

Water gushed in through his nostrils scorching his lungs, and his body temperature dropped.

He reached out in attempt to break the surface once more.

I’m going to die, he thought.

He thought of his brother fast asleep in the cottage and how much he wanted to give him one last kiss.
“Xiao-Zheng.”

Chapter end