... and Baby Makes Two Page 25

  The group headed into the Forbidden City Starbucks. It was real. It was in the Forbidden City. Could the Gap be far behind? Did I mention that we saw the Beijing Ikea? We did. It was disturbing.

  James gave us an hour to wander on our own, and then we were supposed to reunite at a designated spot. After an hour and some miscellaneous time went by, everyone had returned except for Ray. James shook his head and said, “Jane, where is your husband?”

  So I shook my head and said, “James, I have no idea.” It was an honest answer. But one more time, I thought of Peter. I wanted to say, “He's married to somebody else, the dope.” But then Ray snuck up behind us, and we were a couple once again.

  Later, James took us all to Tiananmen Square. He was talking about the history of the place, beyond that horrible day in 1989(and now as I write this, it looks like a long time ago). The soldiers in the square do this slow, dancelike march and I think it hypnotized me. I got pulled out of my trance when I heard a pair of Chinese girls nearby. They were pointing and laughing at our group. James heard them, but he only spoke louder and louder. Then all of a sudden, he turned and spoke sharply to the girls in Chinese. They stopped pointing, smothered their laughs, and looked at the sky. Whatever it was, it was still funny to them. They got all subversive and started pointing and giggling again, but they were quieter. I figured out what was amusing them.

  A lot of the people in our travel group are overweight. The girls had been pointing at the heaviest Americans in the group and laughing. I haven't seen any fat Chinese, although I've read about them. For the rest of the day, I noticed Chinese people pointing and sneering at overweight tourists. The overweight tourists said nothing. I don't know if they noticed it, but it would have been hard to miss.

  Day Three

  James wanted us all to go out extremely early this morning. “Come to the park and see how Chinese people start the day” It was painfully early and I'll confess here that I hesitated. It will probably be years before I can ever sleep in again. And I love sleep. I told Ray “I might want to sleep some more.”

  And he said, “How can you even think about missing this!” He sounded really shocked.

  So I was duly embarrassed, but then I told him, “I guess you got all that extra sleep while I was waiting for you to go to the airport.”

  He stopped lecturing me. I plan to use this line until it stops working.

  I'm so glad I decided to go. James had us walk to this beautiful park, and on the way we saw people sweeping spotless streets with tiny straw brooms. Some kind of government works program in progress. Cleaning clean streets.

  The first group we saw in the park was doing tai chi. It was silent and graceful and serious. Mr. Annoying Video Guy started shouting, “Wax on! Wax off!” until his wife pinched him really hard. I had this vague sense of shame at the discipline I was seeing in front of me. And it only got worse. Then came the calligraphy writers. They dipped large brushes in muddy water, they bent down at the waist, and wrote on the pavement. The floor became a mosaic of Chinese characters. Their work would dry get washed away, and they would re-create it all the next morning. They did this on purpose.

  But today's big event was the Great Wall. I have now climbed the Great Wall of China. James told us that the Great Wall can not be seen from the moon, but maybe it can be seen by people like John

  Glenn who orbit the earth. That's not a lot of people. The best way to see it is to go to it and climb it, and I speak from experience here. I don't know how to describe something this grand, so I'll paste some pictures in the journal here. I got a certificate that announces that I did indeed climb the Great Wall, so lucky, silly me.

  When it was time for lunch, James had another great restaurant lined up for us. But some members of the group started shouting out:

  “Can't we just get pizza or something?”

  “I'm dying for a burger.”

  And, the one that made me grimace at my fellow travelers: “Please, anything but Chinese. I'm so sick of Chinese!”

  Maybe James has a high pain threshold. If it hurt, he showed nothing. He took us to eat exotic foods instead, promising that it was “tasty, so tasty” Most of the group grumbled, ate rice, and declined a great many dishes. I wanted to compensate for their rudeness by eating everything James ordered. This included things that really didn't want to go down my throat. There were strange sauces, things with bones, and flora and fauna I have never seen before, even on Canal Street. But I ate it just to show the others that it could be done. And my reward, every time and for every dish, was a second helping.

  It reminded me of Peter and the new foods he used to get me to try. Peter. Again. Why am I writing about Peter when I'm on the other side of the planet?

  Peter is gone and I am in China.

  Peter is gone and I am in China.

  Peter is gone and I am in China. There.

  For the afternoon, James wanted to show us how real Chinese live here in Beijing. The noise, the energy, the commerce all dropped away as we walked. He took us to a courtyard in a residential district. And that's when the smell hit us. If you're eating right now, put it down. Because this was an outhouse smell, amplified by stadium speakers. That's the nicest way to describe it.

  Teresa just had to ask, “What is that?” And Karen was covering her mouth, but I could tell that she was gagging. It was really that bad.

  James told us that this was the public bathroom, and it seemed the obvious answer. A few hundred people use it every day. After we passed it, the smell began to dissipate, or maybe we grew some tolerance toward it. I stopped worrying that Karen was going to be sick.

  “This is middle-class Beijing.” James sounded like a professor. “They have no indoor plumbing. They come here, and that is what you smell. It is bad, isn't it?”

  There was a girl, several blocks ahead of us. She was walking toward the group, carrying some small items. Her clothes were light and casual. I thought that she was wearing pajamas. She was. And she was carrying a towel and a toothbrush. How long had she been walking?

  James told us, “She is going to the bathroom. Imagine if she is sick in the night. How far must she go?”

  He stopped at a gate in a stone wall. He entered and spoke to the residents, leaving us Americans outside for a bit. We barely had time to say, ewww, gross, about the bathroom situation, when James opened the door and signaled us in. We were in a Chinese courtyard.

  The ground was paved with a kind of cobblestone. It looked as if we were in a fraction of some grand and wealthy person's ancient home. There were three doors, forming a semicircle around the courtyard. There were plants, bean sprouts, and other vegetation winding around the pillars of some of the entrances. The paint was peeling badly on every door and wall. We skipped the first door. Maybe no one was home. But we were invited to the next home.

  It contained two rooms. A living room/kitchen and a bedroom. The living room/kitchen had a yellow velvet couch that was worn but well cared for. A little boy, eight years old, maybe nine, sat there, doing homework. He was too shy to look up. His mother was a tiny woman with high energy. She had a computer; she had nice things.

  The bedroom was filled with a giant mattress, where the family slept.

  In the next house, we met a small, elderly lady. She was not frail, and her house was not as accessible. The Americans backed away. She consented to photos with the Americans. She took a few pictures of us too.

  Is this the life my daughter might have had? Would she have been happy? What would she have grown up to be here? What will she grow up to be? Someone stop me before my head explodes.

  I felt like such a spoiled, pampered American. And I thought of Pete— I mean, I thought of you know who. P. When he left, it was like someone amputated a limb. But let's be honest here—my life is easy-peasy So the guy left. So what? Get a little sense of perspective, Jane. And grow up.

  For the record, the people in the courtyard were happy. They seemed to like their lives. Peter would argue with
me here—just for the sake of arguing, because that's how he is and now he's arguing in my head: “What, should they move into condos and eat McDonald's?” No. But they should have flushing toilets. That's all I'm saying.

  Shut up, Peter.

  Day Four

  Today we flew to Guangzhou, where we were to be united with our children, and oh, my God. I didn't tell anyone, but I was praying that we would not get the babies that day. I need one more day to get ready. Just one. Please.

  James was sweet and kind with us at the Beijing airport. He gave us detailed instructions about how to board a flight, as if we were idiot children. We had a lovely short flight from Beijing to Guangzhou, on Shamian Island. This was the spot where the Chinese used to stash all the foreign traders, pirates, and other suspicious

  international characters. Parts of it looked like New Orleans to me. Maybe I'm crazy.

  When we checked into the hotel, the White Swan, everyone was looking left, looking right, looking for a room full of babies. I was relieved that we didn't find one. But then I was upset to be relieved, so I'd look for more babies. And then I'd be relieved. And then I'd be upset. And that is the worst kind of vicious cycle.

  While we unpacked, I turned on the TV, and can you believe it? They were showing Bringing Up Baby. Ray was worried about me when I got all weepy at the scene where Katharine Hepburn climbs the dinosaur and Cary Grant kisses her at last. He doesn't think people should cry at screwball comedies. Critics …

  The Chinamoms gathered for dinner, and it felt like the condemned eating a hearty meal. No one said anything about being scared out of their wits. Am I the only one? Teresa said that she almost pushed Mr. Annoying Video Guy off the Great Wall. So we gossiped about our fellow travelers for a while. We argued about life in the courtyards of Beijing, and we were pretty much our same, original selves. This could have been a Melting Pot dinner, but we were on the other side of the world. Was this the last time we would be our old selves? Ever? I think so. You can count it down in hours, but I don't want to.

  Tomorrow, we go get our babies.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Jane woke up, Ray was still asleep in the next bed. The sun was almost up. She should sleep while she can. She turned over and saw the crib. She turned back.

  After the Last Supper, she and Ray had giggled their way back to their room. But then the hotel staff wheeled in the crib, and there was a lot of general gulping from the Americans in the room. It was small, but it vacuumed the air right out of the room. Jane and Ray both reached for the minibar.

  But now, she wanted to fall back asleep.

  …

  Ray was making her late. Again! He wanted to go back to the room and make sure that he had his camera. Oh, and extra rolls of film. Oh, and the toy he wanted to give to little Beth. Oh, and Jane was inches away from spontaneous combustion.

  They were inches away from the breakfast bar when one of the mothers-to-be in the group found them and announced her need for a group hug and Jane broke away in an obvious break-away style.

  “Oh,” she said. “Somebody gets cranky without a little breakfast, huh?”

  Bitch. Evil bitch. Jane raced to gather some food that she didn't want. Why were there pigs in a blanket in the breakfast buffet? It was upsetting in every way. She wrapped banana bread in a paper napkin and stashed it in the diaper bag. Already, she was a selfish mother. They raced to catch the orphanage bus. James waved them on.

  “It's Christmas!” Karen shouted, and a handful of people looked like they were wishing for guns. “We're getting our girls! It's like Christmas!”

  Is it? Christmas wouldn't be so hot and so sweaty and so damn scary. Christmas wouldn't be so polluted and gray and wouldn't start so early and wouldn't happen on a bus and wouldn't include Jane wanting to strangle Karen with her hands if she said “Christmas” again.

  Karen started singing, “Did you know we're riding on ba-a-by express?”

  It was so much worse in person. Karen had her video camera at hand to capture every precious moment. She taped the gray scenery through the dirty bus window. Jane watched as Karen put the camera in her bag while it was still recording, capturing lengthy stretches of the interior life of a camera bag.

  Ray bounced a toy bunny, but with no musical accompaniment. Maybe he was starting to figure out that Jane was just a bit tense. Jane caught him watching her sideways. She worried about being the object of his worry.

  The ride was ugly. Teresa and Beverly sat far from Jane and Karen, and Jane was jealous. They were quiet and exuded a kind of calm that could only come from people who actually knew what the hell they were doing. Or were hungover. Jane wanted to throw up. The scenery was so damn ugly. Haozhou seemed to consist only of tire shops. How could that be? Was this a town where you stopped only if you had a flat?

  The ride took two hours. It was too short. Jane wanted to drive the length of the Great Wall and wave to John Glenn. She smiled weakly at Karen whenever she held up the potentially blackmailing video camera. Ray was quiet, dancing the toy bunny in a rhythmic, comforting way.

  “Here we are,” announced James.

  It was a big wall. Wooden and dirty. They walked into a small parking lot/courtyard/open space.

  “Does anyone need to go to the bathroom?” James asked.

  Oh, God, yes. They needed to go. A pride of women followed an orphanage worker up several flights of stairs to a bathroom.

  “Oh! No! Oh, ick! I can't do this!” squealed the first woman. This was a traditional, Eastern, squat bathroom. No toilets here, not like she was expecting. This was essentially a hole in the floor where one had to squat and go.

  Jane decided to remain upstairs and accompany a mother who was openly nervous about the day.

  “I bet they brought out the babies,” said Jane as they found the stairs again.

  “No!” said Nervous Mother. “They wouldn't do that!”

  “They would.”

  They descended the stairs and found bedlam in the small courtyard. There were babies, parents, and every kind of noise.

  “I held your baby already!” Teresa shouted. “I held her! Where have you been?”

  While they were upstairs, a parade of nannies had brought the babies to all the waiting parents. This was the result.

  Jane scanned the crowd and saw Ray holding the doe-eyed beauty whom Jane had studied for months in a tiny photo with a red background. Beth. That was Beth. Jane would know her anywhere. Jane's chest felt like a door that was opening, rusty and old. It was Beth, and she loved her.

  “Hi, baby girl. Hi. Hi. Hi.” She said that a lot. And she said, “Oh, you're so beautiful. You're so sweet. Look at you. Hi.”

  The baby clung to Ray. Jane wanted to snatch her and run. She wanted to pull her away and shout, “This is my baby!” but that would be unwise. Right? Better to wait. Take it easy. Take it slow. She waited. Finally Ray couldn't justify holding the girl anymore.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Hi. Are you okay?” Jane said to the fifteen pounds of panic and fear in her arms. The baby didn't cry, but she dug her fingers into Jane's arm and held on. Jane read “whoever you are, don't let go” in her body language. There was an ocean of eleven babies and who knows how many grown-ups cavorting about this tiny courtyard where Jane and Beth held on to each other. Jane was having a Tony and Maria experience: Everyone else was a gauzy soft focus as these two danced and discovered how much they loved each other. It would be a while before the Jets and the Sharks came into focus. There was no noise in their misty world, only quiet colors and soft textures.

  Years might have passed before Jane looked up from the baby. When she finally did, she saw that the grown-ups were the ones crying. Most of the babies were quiet. One was wailing enough for the whole zoo of infants. It was Karen's baby Ariel. She was frantic to comfort the baby. Nothing was working.

  James held Karen's crying baby, and the crying stopped instantly. He whispered to her in Cantonese, and the baby even managed a smile. But she screamed and crie
d when she was handed back to her new mother. Karen's face was red, she was sweaty, she was an inch away from crying herself. How could a baby reject her so quickly and so completely?

  “It's okay,” James reassured her. “Baby has strong ties here. This means that she knows how to love. She will love you just as much. You will see.”

  The whole crowd was summoned into a large room. Jane found a seat far from the madding crowd and sat Beth on her lap to get a look at her child, beyond the wisps of hair and the cherubic face. Despite the heat, Beth was wearing a long-sleeved terry cloth sleeper. It was blue and had some stains on it. It may have been a little small; she seemed to be working hard to straighten her legs and push her feet through the terry cloth footsies. She felt substantial and real. She looked good.

  The room had two old couches and some large folding tables, now covered in diaper bags and other goods. Everyone had brought a clothing donation for the unseen children who would remain in the orphanage. There were bottles everywhere, filled with a heavy, lumpy knd of formula. Jane took one. It was very hot, and the bottle's nipple had been widened to accommodate the thick meal inside. Beth grabbed it and chowed down.

  Ray was crying. He had taken dozens of photos and hoped that they were in focus. He couldn't see.

  Teresa's face had changed. She looked softer, more available. A set of muscles around her mouth unclenched. She was bouncing her girl, Grace, on her lap and singing to her. Karen was pale. She was rocking Ariel, who maintained a steady cry until she had her bottle.

  Mrs. Wu, the orphanage director, stepped forward. She was warm but very serious looking. She had a lot of information for the new families, and she launched into it. She described sleep schedules and eating schedules and described general living conditions for the girls during their time here at the Haozhou Social Welfare Institute. She was on the other side of the room, and Jane missed every word of it. Ray was trying to take notes, but he still couldn't see very well.