A hairpin, a flute, a brave face. Those were the things that Lotus brought with her when she moved into the Chen household as the fourth concubine. Her throat tightened as her bridal palanquin was lowered, the veil jerked open.
#
When I drop a teacup, Grandma says, at your age, I was married and raised your Ah Ma and five children. I sweep the broken pieces into a dustpan, not letting a word slip from my tightened jaw.
#
A brave face. Lotus’s body turned into stone as her old husband lifted the blanket, slid next to her. Lotus’s face betrayed nothing. The old man laid his gnarly hands on his fourth and freshest possession.
#
Ah Ma asks: When will you have children?
I wrap my arms around my breasts: My body is mine.
Ma scolds me for being selfish, too American, not Chinese enough, not propagating Ba’s family name that will die with me.
#
A hairpin. Silk bed sheets, a servant to massage her feet. It could have been worse for a woman like Lotus. Whose days at the university were interrupted. Whose father lost all the money in his tea business. Whose only friend was Coral, the third concubine, who shared the name of her secret lover, someone to wipe away the old man’s stench from her bedlinen.
#
Grandma asks: When will you get married?
I look up from my sketchbook, and say: I won’t be tied down!
Grandma’s eyes grow wild. She can’t find her words. Gulps air like a goldfish.
I draw the contour of her eagle nose, like Ah Ma’s nose. Mine is upturned like a rebellion. Thin lines have appeared in my forehead, the corners of my mouth.
#
A flute. A treasured pastime broken and burned by a jealous old man. Who suspected Lotus had fallen in love with his elder son. Who ordered his men to take Coral from her room and throw her in the well. Who drove Lotus to insanity. Whose life didn’t offer her choices. Whose story resembled Ah Ma’s. Whose marriage was brokered to save herself and Grandma from the Great Famine.
#
What will you do? You’ll die alone, Ah Ma says, twisting her arms. Why are you so stubborn?
Happy Birthday, Ah Ma, I tell her.
Grandma shakes her head, sighs.
Ah Ma stares at the voucher I gift her for a spa day. She flips the paper with her fingers; she smells the rose-scented card, unsure of what to do with a body that’s never been hers.
Notes:
Raise the Red Lantern was a novella by Su Tong, which was adapted to a movie in 1991 by Zhang Yimou
The Great Famine in China (1959-1961)
