“Are you at home?” by Liu Ying, translated from the Chinese by Michael Day

Are you at home?

Her: “Are you at home?”

Me: “I’m at a café.”

Her: “It’s nine at night. What are you doing at a café?”

Me: “There’s the smell of fresh bread and coffee and the warm sensation of strangers all around. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. Safer that way. It’s like a big, open living room, no need to talk to anyone. The café closes at ten. I can stay a little longer.”

Her: “So you can’t stand being at home alone, either?”

Me: “No. Since last summer, home is such a cold and lonely place. Lots of nights, I can’t sleep. It’s like I’m trapped inside a damp, dark cave. I’m so helpless, so powerless. I’ll curl up in bed or on the sofa, feeling empty, like I’m floating on a cloud, like the connection between me and the world is cut, like the power is out and I’m bathing in blackness. So I’ll force myself to go outside, someplace with people, someplace quiet. The café is a new find of mine, just opened in the neighborhood.”

Her: “I’m in Sicily.”

Me: “Oh, fun. It’s your first big trip in years.”

Her: “Four years, yeah. I got pregnant, married in a hurry, had the baby, got divorced, and switched jobs again. The baby is two now, and my mom is at home babysitting. The company laid some people off, and new hires like me with kids at home were the first to go. I panicked, went right to work looking for a job, but my mom said, no, why don’t you take a vacation? I wavered for a few days, then made up my mind. I’d go out into the world, take a breath of fresh air.”

Me: “I never even knew you were divorced.”

Her: “I barely told anybody. Everyone around me knew he was never home. They never saw him anyway. No one even noticed. At first, I thought we could make it work. When we found out I was pregnant, we got married right away. But life after the baby was born wasn’t like I thought. He still went out drinking with his buddies. He said friends were important, but they were a bunch of trash-talking bums. He never helped with the housework. He’d come home drunk and complain, say the house was a mess, I was fat, I smelled bad. My body had been through pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding. I’d become a mother, but he was still a boy. We got into a fight one time, and he even said he was too good for me. He said his mother and father had always thought that. I was better-educated, made more money, and stood just as tall. The only way I didn’t measure up was my mom didn’t make as much money as his parents. My dad died young, you know, and my mom was a teacher, so we may not have been rich, but we lived clean, decent lives. When the two of us were in love, there were movies, there were restaurants, there were museums, there were little trips, there was passion, but it turned out none of it meant a thing. As daily life drags on, surrounded by baby’s cries and the smell of milk and yesterday’s dinner, you come to your senses and realize he’s crude and rude deep down to the core of him, he’s a selfish chauvinist, an egotistical, loudmouthed complainer.”

Me: “Yeah, lots of men don’t want to grow up and face reality, so they hide.”

Her: “Right. I could have kept going like that, keeping my mouth shut and my eyes shut, keeping myself busy, but it would have been like falling forever down a bottomless pit. Let’s get divorced, I said, and he agreed right away. His family owned a few houses, but they were in his parents’ names. There were no assets to split. He took back the necklace, a wedding gift from his parents, and he was out the door.”

Me: “What did your mom say?”

Her: “My mom said, if you’re going to get divorced, do it now. There’s no future in this thing anyway. It isn’t like the old days, when for the sake of having a husband you would hold hatred silently inside you, pitted against him in your heart but tied together forever. I could take care of myself and the baby on my own, and I wouldn’t have to hold in all the hurt. Life would be easy and free.”

Me: “It’s best to make a clean break. Don’t let the past leave a mark. Each day is a new beginning. Bon voyage. Keep your heart set on being happy.”

Her: “Yeah. This girlfriend of mine from my first job got married and moved to Italy. Her husband is a university English professor, and there’s a vineyard in the backyard. She spends her days tending the grapes, and she runs a little gift shop in the village, selling handmade crafts from China and things by local artists. In winter, she teaches Chinese lessons at home. She’s always been so sweet and full of life. Now that she’s simplified her relationships with people, she seems even healthier, even more herself. Her cheeks have a rosy glow. I stayed with her for two days, soaking in the good vibes. It had been so long since I’d had a good laugh. I’ve been laughing a lot these days.”

Me: “Laughing is good for you. Laugh more. Squeeze out tears. Keep it up. Fill your heart to bursting with joy.”

Her: “Yeah. I called home a minute ago, but no one picked up. My mom should be home this time of day. Maybe she took the baby and went for a walk in the neighborhood.”

Me: “Don’t worry. If anything was wrong, she’d call.”

Her: “Good thing is, I’ll be home in two days. Well, I’m gonna catch up on some sleep.”

Me: “Have a nice nap.”

✶

Her: “Are you at home?”

Me: “Yeah. Getting ready to jump in the shower.”

Her: “Terrible news—have you heard?”

Me: “What?”

Her: “I just got back from Jimei’s place. They’re gone, all of them. I can barely believe it.”

Me: “Who’s gone?”

Her: “Jimei got back from Italy to find her mom had passed away suddenly, and the baby had starved.”

Me: “Oh, my god.”

Her: “After Jimei left, I went to the house to check on her mom and the baby, dropped off some fruit and a hot meal. Then I twisted my ankle running in the neighborhood one night, so I didn’t go back. I called her mom and she said not to worry, she was fine. Her mom did seem healthy, like she said, loud and full of laughs. Jimei texted me one day, said no one was picking up the phone at home, maybe her mom had gone downstairs to take a walk with the baby. I told her, don’t worry, I’m sure they’re just out for a walk. The next day, I called her home phone, but no one picked up. My ankle was sprained, and my husband was away on business. I couldn’t work or even walk on my own, and with a baby to take care of, things at home were a whirlwind. I was sure her mom was just gone to the grocery, and anyway, Jimei would be back the next day. It was nothing to get bent out of shape over.”

Me: “Then the sky fell in.”

Her: “It hurts so badly. I blame myself. My heart is twisted with agony. I feel like my body is floating, like it’s all a dream. I only wish.”

✶

Her: “Are you home?”

Me: “Just got back from work. It’s six in the morning over there, isn’t it? You’re up early.”

Her: “Jimei is gone.”

Me: “Gone? How?”

Her: “Suicide.”

Me: “Good God. Weren’t you staying in a hotel with her?”

Me: “At the funeral, her husband let her have it, started shouting, said she was a killer, said she’d gone prancing around the world without a care and let his child die. Her ex-husband, I mean. I only found out at the funeral they’d been divorced for half a year.”

Her: “And where was he when this happened? Interesting time for him to show up and run his mouth off.”

Her: “Since the day she came home and found her mom and baby dead, she’d been out of it. She shriveled up into herself in an instant. Her eyes were empty and her face was blank. She didn’t cry. She didn’t say a word. Her soul had left her body, and she was hollow. I made the funeral arrangements for her. I watched over her during the days and evenings. I let my husband take care of the house. I was worried she’d do something dumb.”

Me: “I should have flown home right away, but I couldn’t get away from work. I was just going to finish this project and then go be by her side. Later, I’d take her to New York and we’d stay a few days. A bunch of excuses, I know. I should have gotten on the very next flight.”

Her: “Seems to me she’d made her mind up. The evening of the funeral, she barely ate anything, but she did drink a yogurt drink. Before bed, she said she wanted me to go once a year and lay a bouquet on their graves. She said her mom had loved beautiful things, and the baby had, too. She wanted me to buy a big bouquet of red roses, the kind that puts a burst of joy in your heart. I woke up in the middle of the night, saw her lying on her side, and went back to sleep, relieved. In the morning, there was no one there, and I panicked. I’d barely slept for days, and as soon as I fell into a deep sleep, she slipped out. I called her cell, but no one picked up. I ran to the lake and looked all around. On the way, I called my husband and told him to go to her house as quickly as he could to take a look. It didn’t take long for him to find her. The doors were unlocked, and she was at home, collapsed on the living room sofa. She’d swallowed a bunch of pills. She was already dead.”

Me: “Did she leave a note?”

Her: “She did. It said not to be sad for her. It said her heart had turned to ashes long ago. Now, with her mom and the baby gone, she had even less reason to live. She would go to be with her mom and the baby. It was the best way.”

Me: “I can’t get my mind around it. Did she have any other family?”

Her: “She was her mother’s only child. She had an aunt and uncle, but they’d never been close. There was no one in the world she could rely on. From high school to college, the three of us were always together. You and me, we were like her sisters. But I blame myself for this. I’ll be living in her shadow for the rest of my life. The pain is almost too much to bear. It feels just like a dream. The dead are dead, and those of us left living will never be the same.”

Me: “Only the good blame themselves. Bad people put the blame on others.”

Her: “No one knew she was divorced, not even me. You know, everyone and her sister is divorced these days. But when a marriage breaks down, a woman has to bear all kinds of pressure from the outside world, and on top of that, she has to bring up her kids by herself. Men come around quickly from the shock. Before you know it, they’ve married younger women and started new lives. Her dad died young, leaving her mom and her alone, and then she got married, and now this. She never said a word, but inside she was hurting. She wasn’t like her mom. Her mom was always laughing. The baby was always laughing too, going quack quack, like a little duck.”

Me: “In Italy, she said she didn’t know how long it had been since she’d had a good laugh, but for a few days anyway, she laughed a lot.”

Her: “I’m glad to hear that, to know she laughed a lot, once upon a time.”

✶

Me: “Are you at home?”

Her: “Yeah.”

Me: “I just woke up from dreaming of her.”

Her: “I can barely sleep through the night. I’ll drift away, and she’ll be standing there in front of me, and she’ll try to speak, but it’s like she’s mute, no words will come out. It’s so painful to watch.”

Me: “I just dreamed of her standing in the vineyard, eating grapes, juice staining the crooks of her smile. The sunlight was shimmering, and she stood there squinting into the light, smiling. You know, when she smiled, it was so beautiful.”

Her: “Yes, when she smiled, it was so beautiful.”

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你在家里吗

她：“你在家吗？”

我：“在咖啡馆。”

她：“晚上九点，这时间还在咖啡馆？”

我：“这里有面包香，咖啡香，有陌生人的温暖人气。我不认识他们，他们也不认识我，陌生即安全。这里就像是一个开放的又互相都不用说话的客厅。咖啡馆十点关门，我还可以再呆一会。”

她：“你怕一个人呆在家里？”

我：“嗯，从去年夏天开始，总是觉得身体冷。经常性地失眠，似乎有个潮湿的黑洞，我被困在其中，时常觉得无助无力。蜷缩着在床上、沙发上，仍觉得虚寂，如身置浮云，很难与外界连接，断电了似的，一片黑暗。后来，逼着自己出门，呆在有人的又相对安静的地方。这家咖啡馆，是我最新的发现，就在家附近，刚开的。”

她：“我在西西里岛。”

我：“好好玩，你似乎有几年都没出远门。”

她：“是的，有四年了。怀孕，匆匆结婚，生子，离婚，重新换工作。现在孩子二岁了，母亲在家帮忙照看着。最近公司裁员，我这类新去的、家里又有孩子的，就成了最先被裁掉的。急着想找工作，母亲却让我趁机出来走走。我也是犹豫了几天，终于下定决心，出门透口气。”

我：“怎么就离了？我一点也不知道。”

她：“我几乎没和任何人说起，周围人知道他常不在家，即使见不着他，也没人当回事。起初还觉得可以一起过的，知道怀孕后就匆匆结婚了。生了孩子，发现完全不是那么一回事。他依旧在外与朋友喝酒，混他那所谓的、有用的、事实上完全胡扯瞎扯的圈子。帮不上一点忙，反而酒后回来抱怨家里不干净，抱怨我胖了，抱怨我身上有怪酸味。我的身体经了孕育、生产、母乳喂养，已经是个母亲了，他依旧是个少爷。有一次吵起来，他甚至说，我配不上他。他说，他的父母一直就觉得我配不上他。我学历比他高，工资比他高，个子和他一样高。惟一配不上的，也许就是我的母亲没他的父母有钱而已。你知道，我父亲走得早，母亲教书，虽不富，但日子过得挺安稳洁净的。谈恋爱时，电影、餐厅、博物馆、短途旅行，有小激情小情趣，似乎什么都不是重要。一起经了有婴儿啼哭、有奶味、有烟火的日常之后，你才会发现一个人骨子里有多俗、有多自以为是、有多大男人主义、有多自私、有多会指责和埋怨。”

我：“嗯，很多男人不想跟着现实一起长大，一直逃避。”

她：“是的。我可以永远这样将就着过下去，一个人闭嘴闭眼地忙里忙外，但这会是个没有尽头的无底洞。我提出离婚，他一口答应。他家的几套房子，全登记在他父母的名下。没什么财产分割的问题。离婚后，他还要回了结婚时他父母送的一条项链，然后快速闪人。”

我：“你妈怎么说？”

她：“我妈说，迟离不如早离，肯定是过不长的。现在已不是当年，不用为了表面上有个老公，暗地里恨着、互相敌人着，却还非得捆绑在一起。自己有能力养活自己和孩子，离了至少不用受气，自在清净。”

我：“之前的事，缘起缘尽，尽量不着痕迹才行。今日事，如新生。旅途快乐，痛快地玩。

她：“我第一次参加工作时相识的女友，她后来嫁到了意在利，先生是大学里的英文教师，家里有葡萄园。她除了在家里照顾葡萄园，还在附近小镇上开了家礼品店，卖她从中国寻来的各种手工艺品，也卖本地艺术家的作品。冬天的时候，她竟然还在家开中文课。她向来性格好，活泼。因为人际关系简单，她现在比之前更加纯粹和健康。脸红扑扑的。我在她家住了二天，再次受到她的感染。我不知道自己有多久没有开怀大笑了，这些天，我笑了很多次。”

我：“笑能治病。多笑。用力笑出泪来。继续心无旁骛地玩。”

她：“嗯。我刚才打电话回中国，家里没人接。平常这个时间，母亲应该是在家里的，也许抱孩子去小区散步了。”

我：“放心，有事她会电话你的。”

她：“好在还有二天就回去了，我得接着睡了。”

我：“好觉。”

✶

她：“你在家吗？”

我：“在。正准备洗澡。”

她：“你知道吗？出大事了。”

我：“怎么了？”

她：“我刚从季美家回来。她们都走了，太可怕了。”

我：“谁走了？”

她：“ 季美从外面旅行回来，发现老人家因突发病走了，孩子活活饿死了。”

我：“天呀。”

她：“季美出门后，我还去她家看过她的母亲和孩子，买了些水果和熟食。后来因傍晚在小区里跑步，扭伤了腿，就没再去了。中间还打过电话给她母亲，老人家叫我别担心，她好着呢。她母亲身体确实看起来没什么问题，人也直爽，笑起来一串串的。那天她季美发短信来，说是打家里电话没人接，可能母亲抱孩子下楼去散步了。我还告诉她，不用担心，肯定出门散步了。第二天，我打过一个电话去她家，也没人接。当时腿伤了，先生又出差，自己走路干活都不利落，孩子又小，家里忙乱，心想着她母亲可能去菜场了，又想着她第二天就从意大利回来了，所以也就没当回事。”

我：“真是天塌下来了。”

她：“我难受的要命，自责的要命，心脏一直揪心的痛，身体却是虚浮的，做梦似的。真希望是一场梦啊。”

✶

她：“在家吗？”

我：“刚下班回来。你那边应该是早上六点，怎么醒那么早？”

她：“季美走了。”

我：“什么意思？”

她：“自杀了。”

我：“天哪，你不是和她住在酒店的么？”

她：“葬礼上，她先生对她大声叫嚣。骂她是凶手，顾自出门享乐，害死了他的孩子。不是，是前夫。我是葬礼上才知道，半年前他就已经是前夫了。”

我：“他平时干嘛去了，这个时候出来用嘴杀人。”

她：“季美从回来那天看到死去的母亲与孩子后，就傻了似的，整个人快速瘪了下去。她目光痴痴的，表情寂寂的，不哭也不说话，完全失了魂魄，空心人似的。家里的后事全是我替她操办的。我白天晚上守着她，整个家都扔给我先生了，就怕她出事。”

我：“我应该飞回去的，公司实在走不开，想着忙完这个项目，再回去陪陪她，然后带她来纽约住些事日。不过都是借口，我应该当即就飞回去的。”

她：“她或许早就决定好了的。葬礼回宾馆的晚上，她几乎什么都没吃，就喝了点酸奶。入睡前，她说，让我每年买些鲜花去母亲与孩子的坟上看看。她说她母亲喜欢美，孩子也喜欢美。她让我买大红的玫瑰花，看着欢心喜庆。半夜里，我还醒了一次，看她侧卧着，就放心睡了。早上发现屋里没人，当时心里就急了。这些日来，几乎没怎么休息，一觉睡得熟，竟然不知道她是什么时候出去的。打她手机，一直无人接。我跑去附近的湖边四处找。同时打电话先生，让他快速去她家看看。很快就接到消息，她家门没锁，她在家，吞了大量的药片，躺在客厅的沙发上，已经走了。”

我：“她有留什么字么？”

她：“留了，说别替她难过。很长一段时光里，她内心都是灰的，如今没了孩子和母亲，更没任何动力活下去了。找母亲与孩子团聚，是最好的方式。”

我：“太难承受了。这世上，她还有什么亲戚么？”

她：“她母亲就她一个。她有个姨和叔，来往都不多。世上，没什么可以牵挂的人了。你和我，从高中到大学，算是她的姐妹了。可是，我太自责了，我这辈子，都将活在她的阴影里。太痛苦了。实在像是一场梦。走的人走了，活着的人仍旧惊魂末定。”

我：“善良人自责。恶人责她。

她：“她离了婚，竟然连我都不知道。你知道，周围到处都是离婚的人，但婚姻不顺，对女人来说，还是要格外承受些来自外界的压力，除此，她还得独自拖带一个孩子。男人翘起屁股摇摆几下，轻松的就又有了年轻的女人、新的生活。她父亲早走，与母亲两个人过日子，结婚后又遇上这些事。她什么都不说，但内心是压抑的。她不像母亲，她母亲倒是会时常发出咯咯咯的笑。她孩子笑起来像小鸭子 ，也是咯咯咯地。”

我：“她在意大利时告诉我，她不知道自己有多久没有开怀大笑了，那些天，她笑了很多次。”

她：“真是高兴，她曾笑了很多次。”

✶

我：“在家么？”

她：“在。”

我：“刚从梦里醒来，梦到了她。”

她：“我每天都睡不好。一睡着，她就站在我面前似的，想与我说话，但痴痴的，什么都不说。太痛苦了。”

我：“我方才梦到她站在葡萄园里，吃着葡萄，嘴角挂着葡萄汁，阳光明晃晃的，她就在光里，眯着眼，笑嘻嘻的。你知道，她笑起来的样子，真的很美。”

她：“是的，她笑起来时，真的很美。”

✶✶✶✶

Born in the 1970s in Zhejiang, China, Liu Ying is the author of the novels Abu, A Little Heaven, Light Like the Color of Skin, Deep Inside Me, and Sister, as well as the story collections Attic and Delicious Mushrooms, among other works. Her story “Attic” was made into a Chinese motion picture. She currently lives in Manhattan.

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Joyce Polance is a Chicago-based painter working in oils. Polance was born in New York City in 1965. She attended Wesleyan University and received a BFA from the Fashion Institute of Technology. She has exhibited internationally and has work in many private and corporate collections. Polance is represented by Judy Ferrara Gallery in Three Oaks, MI and Elephant Room in Chicago. She may also be contacted directly for purchase of paintings.