Vertical Motion. Can Xue
the debt that I owe him.” With that, Father resumed walking in his old-fashioned shoes.
Following behind, I observed his footprints. Because he walked so gingerly, his footprints were always even. Not like mine—one footstep heavy, the next light: mine weren’t at all uniform.
When we got home that day, a lot of guests were there. They were all Father’s old friends who had come in a group to see him. Father was heavy-hearted as he entered the room. He waved at everyone and said, “The debt is due now.”
The guests seemed uneasy about him. With one voice, they said: “Isn’t there any room for delay?”
“Unfortunately no.”
Dispirited, Father lowered his head. His expression was anguished. The guests gestured to one another and quietly left.
After they left, Father raised his head and looked at me in a swivet and said, “Rushu, in fact, the debt doesn’t have to be paid now. I can keep putting it off. You can repay it for me in the future, okay?”
Afraid, I retreated to the door. I didn’t know if I was afraid of really assuming the debt or if I was afraid that I didn’t grasp what he meant. Actually, I didn’t understand what he’d said at all, and I was all the more afraid because I didn’t understand. I held on to the door, preparing to run off.
“I was kidding you. Don’t you want to help Papa at all?”
“No,” I blurted out.
“Okay. That’s good. I feel reassured.” He looked as if he’d suddenly seen the light.
=
Father died in the harsh winter. His large body was bent into a curved bow. One hand turned into a firm fist placed on his chest. I stood at the head of his bed, my inner curiosity rising little by little: What was he holding in his hand? The people from the funeral home hadn’t arrived yet, and the other family members were outside preparing for the service. Taking advantage of their absence, I hurriedly knelt in front of the bed and seized Father’s cold fist and tried my best to open it. I tried for a long time, but it wouldn’t open. I felt Father moving. I sat down on the floor and trembled. From behind, I heard someone say coldly: “Truly diabolical.”
I looked around: my brother was standing at the door.
“Who are you talking about?”
“You, of course! You scared him to death! And even now you won’t let go of him! Ah, I saw through your plan a long time ago. Why didn’t I stop you? It’s only because of my selfishness! Sometimes, I’m weak, but I’ve never hurt anyone. Ah, Father! Father! This was all her scheme . . .” Choked with sobs, he was having hysterical spasms.
All the family members assembled, and my brother was carried out. Nishu quietly squatted down with me.
“That night, I shouldn’t have gone to your room and talked about Father.” She said, “I was always estranged from him—not like the relationship between the two of you, with so many personal feelings. It was because I was having insomnia and the rain was really irritating that I wanted to talk with you. So I just made up an excuse to see you. Actually, I hadn’t seen anything and even if I had, I wouldn’t have gossiped . . .”
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