An Encounter at the Snack Bar
Original Text （原作）by Lau Yee-Wa
Qi walked toward where Ch’i was seated with faltering steps, unsure if he would hand over the slip of paper.
It had already been two months since Ch’i had spoken to him. Any message he sent, she left on read. They worked in different departments: Ch’i taught Chinese and Qi taught chemistry. They did not interact much, but saw each other other almost every day. When Ch’i walked past him her face completely changed, as if she were looking at a stranger.
Qi knew why Ch’i was mad at him, but after some reflection he decided: he is a good guy. He puts in the work every day. One day he’s going to reach the SGM level, and from there it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump (okay maybe two years of hopping and such) to have enough for a down payment on a house. Then he can marry Ch’i. Even if he stays at the GM level, he only spends 3,000 yuan a month, so he has already saved quite a lot. Qi looked inward: he is not a beggar, and what’s more, he is completely and absolutely devoted to Ch’i. When he walks down the street, he doesn’t even look another woman in the eyes. Someday, he will buy Ch’i a three bedroom apartment and transfer the apartment to her name. However many kids she wants, that’s how many we will have. If she doesn’t want to work, I can support her, no problem. There aren’t many guys like me in this world. Yet somehow, Ch’i still isn’t satisfied. She says I haven’t actually self-reflected. Says I can’t admit that I was wrong. But was I really wrong?
It’s just that she has emotional problems. Things have gotten worse since she had her abortion.
These past three months, Ch’i has been very moody. When she saw Qi from afar, she immediately felt nauseated–not unlike her morning sickness. When she first got pregnant, she had been happy. She wasn’t thinking about marriage. She hadn’t considered buying a house. She just wanted a healthy baby and to make a family with Qi. Who cares if they didn’t own a house? They could rent. What’s a marriage certificate but just a piece of paper? When Ch’i told Qi that she wanted to keep the baby, he looked back at her with a stern face. He did not say a word. She pleaded with him, and he patiently, coldly, said that you should think more rationally. Think about the reality. We have nothing to our name. It is not befitting of a baby. You’re being impulsive, not thinking logically. He talked like he was totally in the right and she was clueless. When she went to the family planning center and got rid of the baby, her love for Qi left too. She couldn’t help but mull over the million other grievances. Like when she passed by Qi sitting in his spot and she just wanted to exchange some kind words, and he would impatiently stare back at her. If it wasn’t his studies, then he was hunched over a ledger. He was always busy, always running in and out of the department office attending to some matter or another. He would go days without texting her. When she got sick, he didn’t wish her well. And once, after not seeing him for a month, she asked him to dinner, only to have him respond that they should get together over summer break. He said by then he should be SGM and on his way to an administrative post. Things will be slower then, and they can get together to talk then.
Get together to talk then. When is “then”? And my child? My disappeared child. That’s a history that can not just be destroyed.
At the start of it all, Ch’i had thought that Qi was an exceptionally good man. When he first started his job, he put his head down and worked hard. One day, when they were still getting to know one another, Ch’i saw him at the snack bar surrounded by a group of female students. She could not make out what they were saying, she just saw that the girls were plucking strips of roasted cuttle fish and smiling and giggling. And Qi, his face red, stood among them and brushed away their questions without answering. A red-faced boy always stimulated Ch’i’s maternal instincts, especially a red-faced boy she had just started feeling some interest for. It was time for the next class, and the girls left him. Ch’i bought a package of cuttle fish strips and walked right over to Qi. She opened the bag and invited him to eat. With a dopey smile on his face, he grabbed a large strip and put it in his mouth. She wanted to laugh. Very good. You’re very hungry. Eat slowly now. Ch’i preferred to savor the strips, rip them in half and chew slowly, to really get all the flavor.
Qi’s face reddened even further. He swallowed the strips in one gulp and didn’t say much. Ch’i looked at him thinking that he was really cute. But now she only has hatred for him. He still has no words for her. Not even a single apology. That’s just who he is.
Ch’i keeps looking for an apology from me. She keeps saying that I just care about saving face. But this isn’t about saving face. And if I say sorry, is that actually going to fix anything? If words could actually bring about a better future, I would happily say ten thousand of them. We are both from poor backgrounds; we lived in public housing. I still have family expenses to pay for. I’ve only been teaching for a few years. If I have a kid now, it’ll be so expensive that in the future it will be too hard to buy a house. Half of my salary goes to rent. How can I afford the things a kid needs? That’s a happy childhood? We are both teachers. We both see the limits on students that come from poor families. How many kids get into good schools when they have to rely on themselves? Fine, I don’t want this kid, but someday we can have lots and lots of kids. Why is she so hung up on the past? I just want to give her the best future possible. Why can’t she understand this? Why can’t she just endure a little bit longer?
Endure a little bit longer? How can someone be so uncaring? So lacking in empathy? Why would somebody erase the past like this? He wasn’t the one who had to go through with the abortion. That was me. Our past has not yet been resolved, so how can we possibly go on? Every time I ask him about what’s going on in his head, it’s not that he just ignores the question, but more that he doesn’t recognize that what I have said is a question at all. He just impatiently responds with one word, “So?” I just want him to reflect on the hurt he’s caused me, but–in his eyes– he has not done anything wrong. He’s just like the government official, who in service of the motherland can do no wrong. Of course nothing happened, no one died in the Square. I remember recounting some news to him, and his face was just a bit dumbfounded. I kept going and he stopped me saying the world is just like that, huh, and then changed the subject: What should we eat tonight? But, history is history. A child gone is gone forever. The next child will not bring the first one back. I just want to unpack the past with him and resolve some of these questions in our relationship. He thinks I’m annoying him. He thinks it’s hormones. After the abortion, I asked him, “You’re the kid’s father. Don’t you feel any guilt?” He responded with that same word: so. I burst into tears and he did not say another word.
So?
This was her response when Qi finally gained the courage to give her the slip of paper. His heart was all out of sorts, but he just wanted to see Ch’i and tell her that today the principal was finally going to promote him to SGM. He told Ch’i the moment she needed to wait for just got shortened from three down to two years.In two years Qi would marry her. But when he placed the slip of paper on the desk in front of her, all Ch’i gave was an uninterested, “So?” Qi kept his cool. He placed a pack of the cuttle fish strips she loves so much on the table. She gave a cold laugh and rolled her eyes. She stormed out of the classroom and headed to the snack bar. Qi, like a child in trouble, silently followed her.
After the morning break, the snack bar is quiet. With only Qi standing in front of her, the two words “leave him” were etched into her heart. But she couldn’t do it. Crossing her arms, staring at him, she wanted to hear what he had to say. Qi looked back at Ch’i, her face was like a moving image–it at one time expressed numerous emotions, but she did not speak. This silence was the same as before. Ch’i let out a humph from her nose and looked as if she were about to open her mouth. But she did not. As if he were aware of what she was about to say, Qi clumsily grabbed for the cuttle fish strips. Ch’i couldn’t hold in her laughter. He hadn’t changed. This made her heart hurt. She took the strips out of the bag one at a time. Since she was a kid, the packaging on Ladybird cuttle fish strips has not changed. Ladybird…lady…Ch’i ripped open the bag, tore one in half and said, “Ah, how disgusting.” It was bitter and tart. Was it expired? Ch’i looked at the packaging. No, not expired. They still had two years. Two years. Wow, like a metaphor popping out at her. She forced herself to eat them. One after another. You have nothing to prove to the past; the present is painful enough. The tears fell out as she ate. Qi stared helplessly at the crying Ch’i. Are the cuttle fish strips really that gross? Or is she thinking again of our kid, ready to blow up at me. Qi took one and put it in his mouth. Ah, it’s gross enough to make me throw up. Why are they so terrible? He saw that she was sad and wanted to jump up and go buy her a fresh bag. But standing in front of Ch’i, he examined her upturned face, and he suddenly realized that he was exhausted. These past few years, he slept like four hours a night. Food had lost its taste. He had a cavity that made him feel nauseated. Is existence always accompanied by nausea? He did not know, only that this nausea was inescapable. He put his hand over his mouth and ran to the bathroom, where he emptied his body of its contents.