[story] Mother
PART 1
It is raining outside.
The rain hits onto the window. At first there is one drop sticking on the window. Then there is another drop… and another drop… Finally the small droplets become a large one, and it slides down along the window.
I am counting the raindrops.
I look at the window blankly. I count the raindrops mechanically.
There is a swimming pool outside our house. How would it feel if I just jump into it? Would I catch pneumonia this way? I wish I were dead.
Mrs. Anderson knocks on the door and comes in with a cup of tea. “Darling,” she says, “Have some tea. Why would you torture yourself by sitting in front of the window, alas?”
I say nothing. I keep on counting the raindrops.
Mrs. Anderson sighs again, and she closes the door for me.
Mrs. Anderson is a nice person, but she wouldn’t understand… How would she understand it? I don’t even understand it myself…
Another drop on the window.
This rain doesn’t seem to end. What if the rain turns red one day? My mother used to tell me that if a person cries too much, then the tear would become blood. If the sky has been crying for such a long time, would the rain turn red too?
Oh, mother, do you know?
I am staring at the window. I wish I could just sit here staring at the window like this for my entire life.
Oh, my entire life! How long would that be!
I am only seventeen.
I wish I were seventy. Then tomorrow I might be dead.
Would there be any difference for me as a dead person? My heart is already dead.
Oh, mother, do you know?
PART 2
They called me back when it was too late.
I was sent to a boarding school in Britain when my mother married Sir Lo ten years ago. I remembered the wedding day: my mother wore that pretty beige dress. Her hair was styled as a bun. There was a pearl necklace around her neck. I had never seen her that beautiful before. She was the most beautiful lady on that day.
I didn’t feel unhappy for her second marriage. She had the right to be happy. Sir Lo was a kind gentleman. He was rich and he was nice. Even I was only seven that year, I knew that Sir Lo would care for and love my mother.
After the wedding, I asked them if I could study in Britain. The adults were obviously very shocked that a seven-year-old kid would say such words. But I had a classmate who would soon immigrate to Britain, so I know that I could study there as well.
Mother didn’t want me to go to Britain, so I stopped eating and just sat in front of the window. After two days she gave up. Mother loved me more than herself.
She came into my room and sat down on my tiny bed, “Lily, are you trying to protect me?” Her voice was full of sadness.
We hugged together for a long time. And soon I left for Britain.
My mother was Mrs. Lo now. It would be embarrassing for her to have a daughter with the surname Chow. Besides, I would not be happy living together with the three kids of Sir Lo. I was certain that I had done a right thing.
The three kids of Sir Lo were about fifteen to twenty years old. Although they seemed nice to me on the wedding, who knows if they would put a frog in my backpack some day?
Sir Lo chose a school in a quiet neighborhood for me. He said to me, “You’re a courageous child, Lily.” During the school days I lived in the dormitory, but during weekends I lived in the house prepared by Sir Lo. The housekeeper was Mrs. Anderson. Mother usually visited me when it was holiday, and we would travel around Europe.
I kept all the souvenirs we bought in a big box. It was my treasure.
Every year when I sent back my school report, Sir Lo would send me a bouquet. A photo of mother and me was always attached with the flowers. Behind the photo he wrote, “I’m very proud of you. Love, Albert”
Sir Lo was a nice gentleman.
PART 3
But even a gentleman could not live forever. After marrying my mother for six years, Sir Lo passed away.
One day in class I was called out. Mrs. Anderson came to the school and handed me a telegraph. It said that Sir Lo was very ill and asked me to go back immediately. Mrs. Anderson had already bought me a ticket and packed my luggage. In the airport she told me, “Be courageous, Lady.”
Sir Lo was lying on the bed when I saw him. He was thinner than before but he still looked neat and tidy.
“My child, you’re your mother and my angel.” he said.
I held his hand.
He continued saying, “You protected your mother by sacrificing yourself. But I’ll soon compensate your loss…”
“I don’t mind, as long as mother is happy. And I know she’s happy with you. Will you keep her happy too?”
“I wish I could…” he closed his eyes, “One afternoon I saw Beatrice in a tea party. There was a maple tree and she was standing under it. She was wearing a white dress and the red shades reflected on her… I couldn’t forget her afterwards…”
Three days later Sir Lo passed away. Mother became a widow.
Sir Lo left half of his wealth to mother and me. The three kids of Sir Lo got the other half.
I returned back to Britain after the funeral was over.
Mrs. Anderson picked me up in the airport. She was now my housekeeper. Sir Lo had given me the house in Britain.
But I didn’t feel happy at all.
I kept worrying about mother – who would take care of her now?
Mother chose to stay in Hong Kong. She said she didn’t want to alter my life in Britain.
We kept writing to each other. I always read her letter twice before I put it back into the envelope. And then I would read it again before I slept.
My roommate always thought it was a secret love letter. And I always smiled as a reply.
PART 4
Mother liked writing about arts and music. In her letter she would say, “I went to a concert yesterday, the violin concerto was very smooth and sad.” Or “I learnt making pottery today, but it was too fragile and it broke after I took it out from the oven.”
On the other hand, I always wrote with the slightest detail of my life. Sometimes I felt like I was writing a dairy instead of a letter, but I still filled up every page with “I had a burger at school today, but they put pickle in it again…” or “During geography class today, I learnt that Papua New Guinea is a country near Australia…”
We both filled our lonely lives with endless letters.
The first time I didn’t travel with mother during school break was two years ago. I took an archaeology class and there was a field trip in Turkey during summer vacation.
I wrote to mother, and expressed that I was very sorry. She told me to enjoy myself and wished me good luck in digging a piece of fossil.
Of course I didn’t dig a piece of fossil that summer. But my skin was tanned after staying under the sun for fifty days.
My schoolwork had become busier and busier. The public exam was coming soon.
Mother’s letters were less and less frequent, but I was too busy to complain anything.
After I had finished the exam of the last subject, a telegraph was already waiting for me.
It simply stated, “Mother ill. Be back.”
I couldn’t feel the sunlight any more at that moment.
Mrs. Anderson held my shoulders and said, “Be courageous, Lady.”
Yes, I could not but be courageous at that moment. I nodded, took my passport and got on the plane.
Twelve hours of flight was as long as twenty years.
I couldn’t sleep at all. And I couldn’t eat either. I picked up a magazine to read, but every word was jumping in front of my eyes.
I threw up on the plane. And I cried, “Mother, mother…”
The plane finally landed. I almost rushed out to the airport. A car was waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to see mother.
PART 5
But it was too late. They already covered mother with a white cloth.
I became hysterical and I screamed, “Let me see her! She’s my mother! She’s my mother!” They stopped me and I started kicking.
“She’s my mother! She’s my mother!” I kept on screaming until they gave me an injection.
Once I woke up, I started screaming again.
She is my mother. And how could they just take her away from me? Just like that?
She gave birth to me. And what should I do now, when she has left me forever?
Oh, mother, do you know? Do you know?
Mother’s funeral was on a warm afternoon. There were maple trees around the cemetery. The red shades were reflected on her.
I couldn’t forget her forever and ever.
I returned back to Britain. Mrs. Anderson was waiting for me in the airport. She wore black that day.
We arrived back at the house. I wanted to find a place to sit, but I didn’t know where I should sit. Finally, I went back to my room and sat in front of the window.
Since then, I have been sitting in front of the window.
Mrs. Anderson knocks on the door every day and brings me some tea. But I always leave the tea untouched.
I like looking at the window. A pale shadow is reflected on the glass, and I could see my mother.
It is still raining.
Would the rain turn red one day?
But my heart is already bleeding.
Oh, mother, do you know?
Mother.
