The End of Eden (Water Worlds 1)

Chapter 3

3

We drove all day in our smelly little van, slowly descending the hills. The lifeless rock around us gradually became green, first with moss and scrub brush, then with pine trees and firs. It was thrilling to see life refresh the land. We crossed the Jiang River on a narrow wooden plank bridge, and the air turned warm and moist. The sun shone steady, now, high in the sky, and the little van kept rolling as the roads gradually thickened with pony carts and motorcycles.

With the sun setting and our battery nearly spent, we arrived in a small village in a low flat valley. The driver rolled the van through narrow streets and into a small open square. People crowded around. We seemed to have been expected. Father was excited.

"This is your Father's Mother's village," Mother whispered to me as we stepped out of the van.

We were suddenly caught up in a whirl of people and there was laughter and plenty of welcoming talk, although I couldn't understand much. My Chinese was not very good back then. The women took Mother, Joo Chen and me to freshen up, and I was beginning to feel much better now that I was out of the car.

That night, in a common hall warmed by a great cooking fire at one end and lit with harsh, blue-white reflectors hanging high above, there was good food to eat and hot tea and sweets, too. It seemed like such great wealth at the time but it may be that I was just very hungry and very tired.

Lots of people shook Father's hand and there were many toasts made throughout the night. The people laughed and smoked cigarettes and drank and sang songs until very late. The songs were beautiful and I recognized many of the melodies, but few of the words.

An old man who was sitting alone off to the side the whole night, nursing a plate of tea and looking uncomfortable in the company of so many people, suddenly perked up when he heard one particular old song. He pulled two bamboo pieces from his coat pocket and fit them together. It was a dizi! He began playing along with the lively melody, stopping only at times to sing the chorus, loudly and off-key.

Everyone laughed but he didn't seem to mind. Still, I felt sorry for him.

Later I saw Father talking to him for a long time, gently cupping the old man's hands in his.

I don't remember falling asleep or being carried away, but I woke to the sound of a wall clock, ticking off the slow seconds.

Click, click, click.

I was on a small cot in a beautiful, light-filled room.

Are we home? I thought, as I struggled up to consciousness, for this room reminded me of our little flat in Wonsan.

Except, something didn't seem right. Then I remembered everything. The border crossing, our arrival at the village, the grand celebration the night before.

As my eyes focused, I saw Mother seated at a low, round table in the center of the room, tapping her pad. Joo Chen was on her lap, as usual. There were spring flowers in a clear vase next to a bowl of green apples.

The clock continued to tick off the seconds. It was the loudest sound in the room. That, and Mother's tapping.

Mother saw me wake and smiled. Father was nowhere to be seen but still, with her there I felt safe. Maybe really for the first time in my short life.

We stayed in that little room in Yanjiang for three weeks. Father was away much of the time, and Mother wouldn't tell me anything.

"When is Father coming back?" I asked one evening, after an especially long absence. I was beginning to miss him.