Allen You
The Beach
Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
My mother is on a spiritual journey. She’s been on this journey for half a year now. She said that she needed to take a break from everything, so she was going to take a trip to calm her nerves. She gave me life and a little bit of love and that was all she could do. I didn’t need to bother with her anymore, because I’m a big boy. Big boys don’t need mama. Big boys can take care of themselves. My baba can hold his own. I can rely on my baba. I’m 18 now. No such thing as custody for adults. My baba is a good man, and she didn’t need to keep wasting his time, asking for things all the time, bothering him all the time. My baba should start new. She needed a change of pace. A change of scenery, too. Get a little sunshine. Go and smell the roses.
Success in Circuit lies
I asked her where she was going. She said the beach. I asked which beach. She said the beach. I asked what she meant by the beach. She said the beach, you know, the beach.
Too bright for our infirm Delight
I asked what she planned on doing at the beach. Hang out. Drink a little something. Something of the sort, you know? I don’t. I don’t know. Mom, what do you mean you want to go to the beach? It’s okay, Baobao, your mom will be fine. The beach is a happy place.
The Truth’s superb surprise
Knock, knock. Answer the door.
As Lightning to the Children eased
Is this is her family?
With explanation kind
I’m sorry.
The Truth must dazzle gradually
She’s been found.
Or every man be blind —
The beach is a happy place.
Auntie, please
“Too small,” I say to the slippers. They’re my grandma’s. She’s trying to give them to me in exchange for my shoes. You don’t wear shoes in the house.
“Oh,” she replies. “I’ll find you some other ones.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” she chuckles and disappears. I walk back inside with my shoes on, where my dad sits on a couch that isn’t really a couch, but a bench with padding on it. A pretty comfortable bench, though. Uncle Little sits on the chair nearby. His name isn’t really Little. He’s just my dad’s younger brother, so by relation he was dubbed Uncle Little to me.
My dad counts the red, Mao-faced bills. Ten make their way into the fabled red pouch, the hongbao. He folds the packet recklessly in half and shoves it in his back pocket. The other bills go back into his wallet.
“Should be enough,” Uncle Little says. Not life-changing, certainly. He turns to me. “Are you hot, Baobao?”
“Not hot,” I say.
“I can turn on the fan if you want.”
“Not hot.”
“You sure?” To which I nod. “Okay,” he says in between drags of his cigarette. Smoke sprays out of his nose. My dad is also holding a pack, but refuses to smoke.
My grandma arrives again with a new pair. They seem to fit. She bends down to put them at my feet, and I take my shoes off to replace them with the slippers.
“Good,” she says before turning to her only sons. “You’re going to your auntie’s?”
“Yeah, Ma,” my dad replies. “Well, not Little Brother. I’m taking Baobao.”
“Mm,” she grunts. “You have to eat first.” Uncle Little sighs a breath of smoke.
“Don’t cook too much, Ma,” he says.
“Baobao needs to eat,” she says while smiling at me somberly. It’s not like I eat sparingly, so yeah, I get to say that she does cook a little too much.
After lunch, I swap out my slippers for shoes. Outside is the pastoral, charming Chinese countryside. This is my dad’s domain: dirt roads and dilapidated homes, tea trees and ponds and the Sleepy Dragon River. He always preferred the river, a body never stagnant, always there. He left for university all those years ago and comes back a familiar, as one of them. For those who doubted it even for a second, he would voice the hometown dialect, prided for being unintelligible to the city dwellers, and the lost brother was rediscovered. So he returns, Apple Watch on his wrist and Ralph Lauren polo on his back, to kiss the land once more.
We walked some half a mile. After which, the shade of the house was a welcome break from the summer heat.
“Auntie!” my dad calls out. Out waddles an aged woman, skin wrinkled and worn but hands tested and strong. “Say hi to Grandma Second, Baobao.”
“Oh, he’s really a little monkey now!” she exclaimed when she saw me. I bow and greet her. Like Uncle Little, her real name wasn’t actually Second. She was my grandma’s sister, so by relation, that’s her dubbed name. She sat on her bed, a straw and bamboo structure with no pillow, no sheets, nothing. It was more like an elevated table, but with the straw being flexible, it looked surprisingly comfortable. My dad and I grab stools for ourselves. He leans his arm on a nearby table.
“How are things?” my dad asks. The house’s white walls were decaying, and in the room hung a photo of the late Grandpa Second. He died in a farming accident a couple years back, replacing the portrait of her mother.
“Things are coming along,” she says while swatting a fly. “The boys aren’t around as much.”
“Is that so? Where are they?” my dad prods further.
“Well, one of them went to the city to try and buy a house with his girlfriend. They couldn’t, so they settled in an apartment somewhere and I haven’t seen him since. Another is still around, though distant. He’s always out and about, fooling around and drinking.”
A drained look occupies her small, failing eyes.
“That’s sad to hear,” my dad says.
“Yeah, and with Grandpa Second gone, I’m doing all the farmwork, buying my own food, taking care of my own health. I’m 87 now,” she says before looking to me. “Are you hot? I can turn on the fan.”
“Not hot,” I reply waving my hand.
“He’s not hot,” my dad quickly echoes.
“I suppose this summer isn’t so bad. The harvest is mostly over. Your father’s tea leaves came out well, I saw,” Grandma Second continues.
“They did, and they’re better than the ones in America,” my dad says. “American tea is no good. It’s tasteless. By the way, you’re getting old. You don’t need to be pushing yourself so hard on the farm. There’s family around here to help you, even if your kids aren’t.”
“No, no, I can manage on my own. I don’t need the attention,” she says as my father reaches for his back pocket. “I can go on.”
The folded red envelope appears in his hand, bloating with Maos and promises of prosperity. Upon laying her eyes at the unmistakable color, Grandma Second sits straight up.
“I’m going to give you this money —”
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I can’t take that,” Grandma Second instantly protests.
“Hey, please take it, I’m going to leave it right here,” my dad launches back. He lifts up a small clock on the table and places the money firmly under it. Grandma Second stands up to reach for it, but my dad gets in the way. He knows that if she gets in possession of it, she will surely command it back to him.
“I can’t. I won’t.” She sprung into a sudden energetic vigilance when she stood, as opposed to her lethargic contemplation earlier.
“You must. This is my first time coming back in four years, and it’s not that much. Four years, I haven’t been here, so think of it like four years of gifts.”
“I don’t care that it’s been four years, I can’t accept this.” She moves to grab the money. My dad shifts right in time.
“Aye, sit, sit,” my father pleads. She remains upright.
“Look, I can take care of myself. I don’t need this money. Use the money on your son. I’m old. He’s young. Look at him.”
“I can take care of my son and give you something at the same time. Your kids don’t even help you, so I’m making up for them, okay?”
“No, you’re not responsible for them. I’m not taking this money.”
“Sit, sit.” He puts a soft hand on her shoulder and pats it, comforting her enough to sit. He sits with her, hunched slightly to fully meet her sight.
“I can’t take money from you, you understand?”
“Auntie, I’m not just some stranger. I am your nephew. I’m allowed to give you this money, right? And besides, you’re like a mother to me. Of all the elders in this town, it’s down to just you, Ma, and Ba — you three. Everyone else is gone. Uncle is gone. Beibei is gone. I have to take care of you like you’re my own mother. Please have this money.”
“I won’t. I won’t eat until you take back the money. Stop worrying about me.”
“Auntie, you having the money will make me worry less. You having what you need will give me peace of mind.” My dad stands again, hands on his hips.
“No, no.”
“I’m leaving this money here and I’m going. I have business to attend to. Spend it on cigarettes or wine for all I care. Keep yourself happy. That’s your gift to me. Then, we’re even.”
Grandma Second falls silent. My dad returns to his seat. He notices a handheld fan and places a hand on it.
“Are you hot?” she quickly instigates, even looking to me.
“Not hot,” I say. She paces to switch on the ceiling fan anyway.
“Auntie, it’s okay, we’re about to leave,” my dad says and stows away the fan. “Baobao, let’s go.”
I get up and approach Grandma Second. She looks like she’s crying without tears. As she holds both her hands out, I give her a hug. My dad and I walk out, leaving Grandma Second in her bed. I imagine her examining the cash, alone, her problems just a little more absent despite the slight indignity of it all.
Dear Baobao
You are so strong my Baobao. Please do not think this is at all your fault. I was always never satisfied with this situation of mine. Know that even if I wasn’t always happy, it was my greatest joy to raise you. Baobao, please understand. Mom loves you. Mom loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. When my mother died last year, and I could not talk to her anymore, I started to hear her in my dreams. Baobao, she was calling to me. Like an angel. I could hear her calling to me. I needed her. I needed to see her again. Baobao, please forgive me. I’m leaving for a long time. But you will join me someday. We will talk about things there.
I remember holding you when you were first born. I felt at that moment that I had a duty. As your mother, I felt like the world was all around you, and that I needed to keep you safe from the world before it could swallow you. Baobao, I have spent 18 years in your life. After your baba and I got divorced, I didn’t see you very much. It was hard. But I still loved you. I held hope that we would reconnect and I would be happy. Long years of that wore me out. I realized that you were swallowed by the world, and I was no longer a part of it. You kept smiling, though. You didn’t need me. I felt as if a burden was lifted from me. I didn’t need to be your mother anymore. My life’s purpose was fulfilled.
I needed a way out, Baobao. I thought at first I could escape the plight. I tried going back to church. It was no good. I tried going to see my brother. He was very depressed and could not help me. I even tried drugs, Baobao. The only thing that I felt would make me happy was seeing you. But you were so far out of reach, Baobao. I missed you, but you didn’t need me coming back, because I am a pathetic mother.
This is the way. I give you my things to inherit. You are my only baby. You are my baby. You are my love, Baobao. You came from my womb. You are my whole heart. I am so proud of you. I love you. I’m doing this because I love you. I’m doing this so you can unchain yourself from all the terrible things I am. I will not burden you anymore. Be free, Baobao.
This way, we will both be free. I have found a way that is not very painful. I will pass peacefully to the next world. My own mother must be waiting. She will be so happy to see me. My father too. Brother’s baby, your cousin, will be there. I have a lot waiting on me, so I must go quickly! Baobao, you are probably crying or in shock. But you don’t need to feel bad. This is what is best. The beach is a happy place.
Allen You is a freshman studying journalism and data science. In his free time, he loves to listen to the loudest, noisiest, and most absurd music in circulation. Otherwise, he can often be found napping in his bed.
