Chapter 2 Joy Luck Club

Joy Luck Club ——Wu Jingmei's story one My dad wanted me to take the place of my late mother at the Mahjong table at the Joy Luck Club.She passed away two months ago.Since then, the seat next to the mahjong table has been vacant.Pa thought Ma was tortured to death by a thought in her own mind. "A new idea came into her head," said my father, "but before she could explain it in detail, it swelled and exploded. It must be a bad idea." According to doctors, she died of a brain aneurysm.Friends in her Joy Luck Club said she went quickly, like a rabbit whoosh and was gone.Originally, my mother had agreed with her friends that she would be the host of the next round of Joy Luck Club gatherings.

A week before her death, she said to me quite complacently: "Last time at the party at Aunt Lin's house, she cooked a pot of red bean soup, this time I will cook a pot of black sesame soup for you." They try." "Stop showing off," I said. "I'm not boasting," she said, "these two soups are pretty much the same." "Almost," or what she really meant to say "different," is a completely different concept.This is a Chinese-style phrasing, a wording technique—it’s actually confusing a certain basic concept. In China, people pay great attention to wording and words, and try to make them as tactful as possible. I will never learn this. .

two My mother had the idea of ​​having a San Francisco Joy Luck Club two years before I was born in 1949.It was this year that my parents left China with a broken leather suitcase, which was filled with only a box of beautiful silk clothes. It wasn't until after boarding the boat that she explained to her father that it was too late to stuff other items into it.Still, my father fumbled in vain among the cool piles of silk, trying to find his cotton shirt and woolen trousers. When they got to San Francisco, her father made her hide the shiny clothes.From then on, she just wore the brown checked middle suit until the refugee shelter group gave her two old clothes.However, these clothes were American sizes, and they dangled on her body.The refugee holding group was started by a group of white-haired American ladies from the First Chinese Baptist Church in the area.As a result of accepting their alms, my parents had to follow their advice and start going to church.Of course, their persuasion is very affordable and pertinent, but one of the big factors is that the Bible reading class every Wednesday night and the chorus practice on Saturday morning can help them improve their English.That's how my parents got to know the Xu family, the Gong family and the St. Clair family.My mother could feel that these women also had their own hidden pains, their lost dreams and hopes in China.However, their poor English made it difficult for them to express this quickly.Or, at least, my mother has read something from their indifferent and melancholy faces.So when she suggested to them to start a Joy Luck Club, they immediately agreed.

The name The Joy Luck Club originated from my mother's first marriage, before the Japanese occupation of Guilin.So whenever the Joy Luck Club is mentioned, it reminds me of her Guilin story.Every time she wiped the dishes clean, the plastic countertop had been wiped back and forth twice, and my father had started smoking his Black Cats one after another with his face hidden behind the newspaper—often a The warning of "don't disturb", this is when she feels that she has nothing to do, so she will tell me about her past.That's when she always pulls out a box of old sweaters that a relative we've never met in Vancouver gave us.She picked out a sweater from among them, opened the hem, and pulled out a piece of wool from it. Then, with the momentum of breaking bamboo, the sweater quickly turned into a crooked wool, and her story also followed the same rhythm. pour out.Over the years, she has repeatedly told the same story, but the ending of the story is getting darker and darker each time, like a heavy shadow in her own life.Now, this shadow has also seeped into my life.

three My mother always begins her narratives in Chinese: "Before I went to Guilin, I dreamed about it several times. Surrounded by mountains, a small river meanders, with blue duckweed floating on the river.The sky is lined with jagged mountains, layer upon layer, surrounded by white clouds.If you float on the river and live on duckweed, you can climb the mountain without any difficulty.If you accidentally slip and fall, you will just fall into a big bed made of soft duckweed.Once you climb to the top, you will be ecstatic with all that is exposed in front of you, which will cleanse you of all troubles and unhappiness, and sweep away all filthiness.

"In China, it is said that Guilin's scenery is the best in the world. Everyone dreams of Guilin. However, when I got there, I realized that my dream of Guilin was so petty, and my imagination was so narrow and poor. When I saw I laughed and trembled at the real mountains of Guilin. These mountains are like a pile of fried fish trying to jump out of the frying pan. There are layers upon layers of mountains and mountains, shadows flickering, as if there is no end.But at the slightest movement of the clouds, the mountains suddenly changed again, sometimes like a herd of approaching elephants.Can you imagine?The foot of the mountain is full of mysterious cave dwellings. Inside the caves are grotesque stalactites, like cabbage, wax gourd, radish and onion carved in stone. They are in various forms beyond your imagination, like a large garden carved out of stone.

"But I didn't come to Guilin to enjoy the mountains and rivers. I have no time to enjoy her beautiful scenery. My man brought me and two babies to Guilin to escape the flames of war. He thought it would be safer here. He It was an officer of the Kuomintang. After he put us in a small room in a two-story building, he went to Chongqing alone. "We know that the Japanese are advancing and the national army is retreating, although the newspapers never say so. At every hour of the day, tens of thousands of refugees pour into the city, crowding the sidewalks, looking for shelter They come from all directions, rich and poor, Shanghainese, Cantonese, northerners, and not only Chinese, but also foreigners, missionaries, monks and nuns. Of course, there are also Kuomintang officers and soldiers. The posture is self-proclaimed.

"It's just a hodgepodge. If it wasn't for the Japanese, all these people mixed together would be a mess. Just think about it: Shanghainese and northern bumpkins, bankers and barbers, rickshaw drivers and Burmese refugees …Everyone doesn't buy into each other. Even though everyone is spitting on the sidewalk, everyone is spitting their stomachs, and they all smell the same, but everyone is complaining about other people's body odor, but they can't smell themselves The smell. Oh, I hate those USAF officers and soldiers, their Chinese accent of "okay, ok" makes people angry. But the worst is the northern redneck, they dig Nostrils, blowing your nose, and pushing the people next to you with that hand that blows your nose, it's dirty.

"So as you can imagine, Guilin lost all of its charms for me very quickly. I no longer wanted to climb the mountains, as lovely as they were. I doubt they had been trampled by the Japanese. I just sat there all day In a dark corner of the room, with a swaddled baby in one hand, her feet are always on alert; as soon as the air raid siren goes off, I go straight to the cave like an animal. But you can't stay in the dark for long Yes, it doesn't take long before your heart starts to sag and you long for the light, and in the cave you can hear the deafening bombardment outside, and then the gravel rains down. Sitting in the cave, I'm never going Admiring the hanging stalactites and stone gardens, I just stared at the ceiling of the cave - the bottom of an ancient mountain that would have collapsed from the top of my head. Can you imagine? The hope of life, neither in the cave In, but not outside the cave, and I don’t know where it is? It’s a kind of depressing and hopeless waiting.

"So once the sound of the bombing faded away, we would be like kittens that just came out of the ground, clawing and scrambling on the road back to the city. I was often very surprised to find that the mountains reflecting the burning sky were still intact , without damage. "The idea of ​​the Joy Luck Club came to me on a scorching hot night. It was so hot that the moths were fainted by the heat and fell to the ground. Their wings were almost steamed by the humid heat. So that I can no longer shake it. Anyway, there is a foul smell everywhere, and no room can breathe a little fresh air.

The stomach-turning stench came out from the gutter downstairs, diffused in all directions, and hit my window lattice on the second floor.They get in everywhere, even my nostrils.Throughout the whole night, there were bursts of sharp and piercing howls that did not subside. I don't know if it was the peasants who were killing the pigs, or some officials were beating up the unfortunate country bumpkins who stood in his way in the street. I don't want to go to the window to see what's going on, even if I understand it, what does it matter to me?It was at this very moment that I really felt that I couldn't go on like this, I had to do something to distract myself, I had to find something to pass the time. "I came up with this idea: invite four women to play mahjong. I know exactly what kind of people I want to invite: most of them are young and energetic like me. One of them is an officer's wife like me, The other is a lady from a rich family in Shanghai, and she has a very good manner. When she escaped, she only carried a little money with her. The other is a lady from Nanjing. She has very thick black hair. I have never seen such black and thick hair. Her family status is low, but she is very lively and lovely. She was married to an old man, and then the old man died, leaving her a fortune enough to make her pampered property for living. "We take turns to be hosts every week. The hostess must prepare some special food that can win the praise - such as sesame cakes called money cakes, noodles commonly known as longevity noodles, groundnuts that are a metaphor for a precious son, and Yes, there are oranges called Fuju. "Look, with our meager economic power, we can eat such good things! We don't care that the stuffing in the money cakes is made of rotten fruit. The so-called Futangerines are covered with moldy spots. What we eat We are limited, not because there is not enough food to save money, but because we really can’t eat. From the early morning of the party day, we started to eat. Everyone knows that we are lucky, and the whole city can be like us It is very rare to live such a luxurious life! "After the food was full, we filled a large bowl with money and put it in a conspicuous place, and then everyone took their positions at the mahjong table. My mahjong table was moved from my hometown, and I used a kind of The high-quality red wood is of course not the rosewood you see, but mahogany. This is a very luxurious furniture, but unfortunately there is no proper term for it in English. The table is covered with A thick layer of padding, so that when the mahjong tiles are upside down, only the muffled "pop" sound of ivory blocks colliding with each other can be heard. "When playing mahjong, everyone was concentrated and no one spoke. Except for a short 'touch' or 'eat' when the cards were taken, everyone was silent. Everyone wanted to be the winner. But after sixteen rounds , we are going to have a good time again, in order to win some good luck and get some luck. After eating, we began to chat all over the world until dawn. We told stories, nostalgic for the good old days, and looked forward to the good future time. "Oh, those gossips are really funny, there are so many strange things in the world, we all laughed half to death, a rooster broke into the room, jumped on top of a bowl and crowed, but the next day When it entered the room again, it was already lying quietly in the bowl. There was also a young lady who sent love letters to two friends. In fact, those two letters were both addressed to one person; The silly foreign woman fainted from the sound of firecrackers when she was going to the toilet. "People accused us of our weekly gatherings. When so many people in the city fed on rats—and eventually the rats themselves had nowhere to eat but rubbish—people thought we were all bewitched, and even When we ourselves are all facing the shadow of family collapse and the separation of wives and children, we are still in the mood to talk and laugh freely. "Actually, it's not that we turn a blind eye to pain and are insensitive. We are also afraid, and we all have our own pain. But what is disappointment? The so-called disappointment is looking forward to the return of something that no longer exists, or , but to prolong those unbearable tortures. When your house burns down, along with your parents, you will miss a coat that you love so much that hangs in the closet of the house Can you still keep your mind clear when there are remnants of human hands and legs hanging on the telephone poles, and hungry dogs roam the streets and scurry around, dragging a half-gnawed human hand in their paws? How long? We ask ourselves, instead of waiting for death in sorrow, it is better to welcome death happily. What is wrong with this? "Therefore, we decided to turn our weekly gathering into a New Year's festival, so that every week has a chance to forget the past. We don't let ourselves think of any unhappiness and sorrow, just want to eat, drink, and find happiness. We Gamble money and tell the best stories. Every week, we look forward to a joy, and this anticipation becomes our only comfort, which is why we named our party the 'Joy Luck Club'." My mother, usually, always ends the story on an optimistic note.She always likes to show off how superb her poker skills are. "I'm lucky and always a winner. People jokingly call me 'thief threshold'," she said. "I won tens of thousands of dollars. But I didn't make a fortune. At that time, banknotes were worthless, even straw paper. .I once said that a bill with a denomination of several thousand is not enough to wipe one's ass!" I have always thought that my mother's Guilin story is nothing more than a Chinese myth.The ending of the story is often changeable.For example, the banknote with a face value of one thousand, she said, she used it to buy half a cup of rice, cooked the rice into a pot of porridge, and then exchanged the pot of porridge for two pig's trotters with others, and then exchanged the two pig's trotters for six One egg, six eggs that hatched and six chicks... her story was continually developed and added to. One night I asked her to buy a transistor radio, and she refused, so I sulked for an hour and didn't say a word.She said: "Why do you always miss something you never had?" So she told me another ending of the Guilin story. "A military officer came to my house one morning," she said, "and he came to tell me to go to my husband's place in Chongqing immediately. I understand that he wants me to leave Guilin.Once the Japanese hit Guilin, we military families will have nothing to eat.How can I get to Chongqing?Guilin is no longer going out of town.Thanks to that Miss Nanjing, through an acquaintance, she got me a small wheelbarrow for transporting coal. "I put my luggage and the twins on the wheelbarrow. On the fourth day after I left Guilin with the cart, Guilin fell. Along the way, among the fleeing crowd, it was heard from time to time that the Japanese were killing Guilin. It was really terrible. Until the last day of Guilin's fall, the Kuomintang said solemnly that Guilin was safe and protected by the national army. Just after the Japanese soldiers invaded Guilin that day, the streets were still scattered Abandoned the numbers that reported the great victory of the national army, and on top of them, the corpses of innocent people were lying like fish on a chopping board. Most of them were women, old people and children, which was really horrible. The problem is The reason is that they have always had hope in the national army. As a result, you see, even their lives were lost. Hearing such tragic news, I just gritted my teeth and hurried on. Every time I took a step, I asked myself: Are they Are they stupid? Are they brave? "I hurried towards Chongqing until the wheel finally gave up and I had to throw away the gorgeous mahogany mahjong table. I couldn't even cry at that time. Later, I tied the scarf into two The hanging bag ring is on the shoulders, with a child on each side, and a bag in each hand, clothes on one side and food on the other. I carried them on foot and walked. Walking and walking, the wrists were strangled to blood Blurred, the blood trickled down the wrist to the palm, and the greasy finger slipped, I couldn't hold anything anymore, so I let go of my left hand, and then let go of my right hand... "Everyone is like this along the way, giving up the last hope in their hands. The road surface is like precious treasures, priceless. Pieces of exquisite brocades, ancient books, ancestor statues, wooden furniture... and a whole cage of small Ducks. At first they were chattering and chattering, then they finally calmed down, and finally, they were completely motionless. There were silverware thrown by people along the way. But the exhausted people didn't even glance at these eyes, desperate People in China are not tempted by anything. In the end, when I arrived in Chongqing, I was completely naked and empty-handed, except for the three beautiful silk clothes on my body." "Ziran?" I panted nervously, doubting the veracity of this story. "Then... what about the two children?" Without looking up, the mother simply stated that there is no "after" in this story. "Your father is not my ex-husband, and you are not one of those two children." Then again, tonight's Joy Luck Club will be held at Xu's house.As soon as I walked in, the first thing I saw was my dad. "She is here and never punctual," he said as if announcing to the crowd.This is true, everyone else has already arrived.Most of the members of the seven families are in their seventies or eighties.They slowly turned their eyes to me. In their eyes, I was a 36-year-old boy. I tried to keep myself calm.The last time I saw them was at my mother's funeral.At that time, I was so distraught that I could hardly contain myself.They must be muttering, how can a person like me replace my mother?A friend once said to me: I look a lot like my mother, with a gentle manner, a little girl's crisp and melodious laughter and a coquettish gaze.Once I told this to my mother shyly, but she pleaded as if she was insulted: "You are far from me, how much do you know about me? I'm afraid you don't have one percent of it! How can you be like me? "She was right.So how could I qualify as my mother's stand-in at the Joy Luck Club? "Auntie, Uncle." I greeted everyone present with a nod, and walked over to stand beside my father. Usually, I address my friends in these families as "uncle and aunt". Dad is looking at photos of the Gong family's recent trip to China. "Let's take a look." He said, pointing to the group photo of the tourist group standing on the wide stone steps.This photo doesn't show any Chinese background at all, it looks like it was taken in San Francisco or some other city.But my father seems to be just browsing these photos absent-mindedly.In fact, he was not like this before. He used to be very careful and serious.But at some point, he became different. I think it's because of my mother's death. "Look at this one." He said, pointing to a photo that didn't explain anything. ①Westerners commonly call Mrs. Mrs. ——Translator's Note In Xu's living room, there is always a strong greasy smell.Cook too many Chinese dishes in a small kitchen, and oil and gas can easily accumulate.I still remember that whenever my mother went to other people's houses or restaurants, she would wrinkle her nose and say softly, but everyone could hear: "I feel like my nose is stuck with oil!" I haven't been to Xu's for several years.But the living room remained the same as I remembered it, unchanged.Since Aunt An-mei and Uncle George moved to Sunset from Chinatown five years ago, they bought a new set of furniture.It's still the same set of milk yellow plastic veneer, which is still almost new after maintenance.It’s still the same blue-green Scotch cloth corner couch, and the colonial-style table is made of maple wood. The chandelier is still the fake porcelain with cracks. Only the roll of calendar presented by the Bank of Guangdong is changed every year. . I still remember all these furniture.Because when we were kids, Aunt Anmei never let us touch all of her furniture unless it was covered with plastic sheeting.Every Joy Luck Club activity day, my parents would take me to Xu's house together.Because I am a guest, I also have to watch other children. There are so many children here, it seems that things like bumping their heads and feet every time will happen. "You've got to keep them," my mother said to me, which means, if somebody breaks, or burns, disappears, breaks something, gets dirty, whoever it is, anyway. It's all my fault. At that time, she and Auntie Anmei were both wearing interesting stiff Chinese-style shirts with stand-up collars and flowers embroidered on the front. Such clothes were too fashionable for real Chinese people, but they were too fashionable to wear at American parties. It looks too weird. At that time, before my mother told me the story of Guilin, the Joy Luck Club I imagined was a society with special ceremonies, such as the meetings of the Ku Klux Klan and the ceremonies before the Indians in TV films. A set of mysterious and eccentric rituals. But tonight, everything seemed normal.The aunts at the Joy Luck Club wore trousers, brightly colored shirts, and sturdy running shoes of various styles.We sat around a table over which hung a Spanish chandelier.Uncle George put on his bifocals and began to read the minutes: "Our book capital is 24,825 yuan, about 6,206 yuan per couple, about 3,133 yuan per person, selling Lombaro shares and losing 6 3/4 of it, and buying 100 shares of Smith International Stocks, I would like to thank Linda and Ding Tong for eating this batch of stocks for us. Spray, the red bean soup is delicious. We had to suspend the Joy Luck Club party in March. It is a pity that our dear friend Suyun Leave us and express condolences to Canning Wu's family. Joy Luck Club Chairman and Secretary George Hsu." I thought that everyone would talk about my mother for a while, talking about all the good things about her.It is precisely because of this that they asked me to replace my mother on the mahjong table, as a kind of sustenance for everyone, to continue the enlightenment my mother got from that summer night in Guilin. Unexpectedly, everyone just nodded indifferently to express their approval of the contract, including my father.To me, it seems that some new things have filled the vacancy left by my mother. At this moment, Aunt Anmei got up slowly and went to the kitchen to prepare food, while Aunt Linda, mother's best friend, walked over to the green sofa and sat down, folded her hands, and looked at those who were still sitting around the dining table. the men.Aunt Yingying—almost every time I saw her, I noticed that she had added a few wrinkles, so she took out a small blue dress from her knitting bag and started to work. The Joy Luck Club uncles started talking about the stocks they were interested in.Jack, the younger brother of Aunt Ying, is quite keen on the stocks issued by a Canadian gold mining company. "This is the best way to deal with inflation: cut tofu with a knife and shine on both sides." He said quite authoritatively.His English was the best among these people, and there was nothing artificial about it.Among these people, my mother's English is the worst, and she always emphasizes that her Chinese is the best among them.She can speak standard Mandarin. "Are you still playing mahjong tonight?" I asked Aunt Ying loudly, she was a little deaf. "In a little while," she said, "after midnight." "Ladies, please come here for a while?" Uncle George greeted everyone. When everyone unanimously agreed to subscribe for the shares of the Canadian Gold Mine, I went to the kitchen and asked Aunt Anmei why Xifu would do the stock business. "We play mahjong all the time. The winners get the money, but the winners are always these people, and the losers are always those people." Aunt Anmei said while wrapping wontons.She took a chopstick of minced meat mixed with shredded ginger and put it on the thin leather, and fiddled with her fingers briefly, the leather was pinched into the shape of a nurse's hat. "When there are a few mahjong masters present, you won't have good luck. Because we decided to invest in the stock market many years ago, it doesn't matter any skills, it's just luck. This move, you Mom agrees." Aunt Anmei counted the plates piled with wontons.She has done five rows of eight. "Five to eight makes forty, eight people eat ten each, and they have to make five elements." After talking to herself, she began to wrap again. "Everyone has become smarter. Now, we can all win and lose equally. We go to the stock market to find luck and find fun in mahjong tiles. The wins and losses on the mahjong table are small, and the winners get money, and the losers get money on the table. The rest of the dishes, everyone is happy. Are you smart? Haha." Aunt Anmei had more and more wontons, and she made them quickly and proficiently, as if she didn't need to bother at all. That's how my mother used to tell Auntie An-mei that she never really thought about what she was doing. "She's not stupid at all," my mother said to me once, "but she has no guts. I gave her an idea last week. I said, let's go to the consulate to apply for an ID card for your brother. When she heard that, she immediately It was as if I could not wait to do it. Later, I heard her complaining to others: "Who knows the details of this family?" At that time, the person told her that if she did this, her brother in China would be offended. Troublesome. He also said that the US industrial federal government will put her on some kind of register, which will make her face some kind of trouble in the United States. For example, they will not let you enjoy a mortgage because your brother is a Communist Party member. I said to her: what are you afraid of. You already have a house of your own. But she is still timid." "Don't look at Auntie Anmei being so busy all day long," my mother said, "but she doesn't know what she's busy with." The Auntie Anmei I see now is a short, shy old lady in her seventies.She was depressed and busy with her bony legs.She had the flat, soft fingertips of an old woman.I couldn't understand what Auntie Anmei had done to cause my mother to be so harsh on her.In fact, not only Aunt Anmei, other friends, even my parents felt that there were all kinds of deficiencies, flaws and imbalances.She has always judged the people around her by the deficiency of the "five elements". The understanding of "Five Elements" is based on her own understanding of organic chemistry.She told me: If the "fire" is too strong, you will have a big temper, like my dad.Mom often blamed him for his bad habit of smoking, which often made Dad furious.I think the reason why he often feels guilty towards his mother now must be because he realized that at that time, he never listened carefully to what his mother was holding back in his stomach. People with less "wood" are less assertive, and their ears are too soft, such as Aunt Anmei. People with too much "water" flow in many directions, and it is difficult to concentrate, such as me: I studied half-baked biology, then turned to art, and then became the secretary of a small advertising agency. At this time, whether it is me My biology class or art class is just halfway.And now, as a freelance writer. In the past, I never cared about what she said, and regarded it as a superstition of the Chinese people, and that method was only suitable for China's social environment.When I was in my twenties, I chose to study psychology, and I tried to convince her not to be too demanding on people, which is not a good way of education. "There is a school that specializes in the study of human psychology," I said, "Parents should not criticize their children all the time. On the contrary, they should encourage them a lot. You know, the reason why people rise up is to cater to the world. Commitments and expectations, and when you just criticize, it seems to mean that all you want is to fail." "That's the problem," Mom said, "You never get up, and you're too lazy to get up, so how can you meet other people's trust and expectations?" "It's time to eat." Aunt Anmei brought out a pot of steaming wontons and yelled happily.There is a lot of food on the table, and the dinner is in the form of a buffet, just like the party in the Guilin story.Dad is picking fried noodles for himself.The chow mein was served in a large aluminum pot surrounded by small plastic packets of soy sauce that Auntie Anmei must have bought from Clement Street.The wontons exude a tantalizing fragrance, with a layer of green onion floating on the surface.And a big dish of chowder, sweet roast pig cut into dime-sized pieces, and those good things I call "fingers," rolled in rolls with thin flour skins, The fillings are different: there are minced pork, minced beef, shrimp, and some I can't name, which are "nutritious mouths" that my mother often processes. The way these people eat is really indecent!It seems that everyone is in a state of hunger, gobbling one by one. The roast pork was fed into their stomachs piece by piece.They are different from those women in Guilin, their food is much more delicious. They ate quickly, and when they were done, the men got up and left their seats.So, like the three chapters of the covenant, the women stayed at the table and finished the remaining delicacies in a gentle manner. Then, they took the dishes into the kitchen and piled them in the sink, and then washed their hands one by one. They rubbed their hands vigorously. .It is not known who initiated such a ceremony.I also put the dishes into the sink and washed my hands.The women were talking about the Gong family's trip to China as they walked towards the back of the apartment.In another room, the Joy Luck Club uncles were already seated at the poker table.It used to be the bedroom of the four sons of the Xu family, and the bedding boxes and the ladder with peeling paint are still in it.Uncle George was dealing the cards with such skillful gestures that he seemed to have been in a casino.Father took out Black Cat cigarettes to treat the guests, and naturally he also put one in his mouth. We came to the back room, which used to be the bedroom of the three girls of the Xu family.We played together since we were young, and now they have their own families, and I return to play in their room again.Nothing seemed to have changed, except for a strong camphor smell.It seemed to me that Rose, Ruth, and Galice, would walk in right away.The white thread-woven bedspread was frayed almost translucent.At that time, Rose and I used to lie on it and talk about boys, while plucking the little tassels on it.Everything remained the same, except for a mahogany mahjong table in the center of the room.Beside the table is a floor lamp with a black stem.Three egg-shaped spotlight bulbs are protruded from the pole, like a broad-leaved rubber tree. No one pointed out to me: "here, this is your mother's seat." However, even before everyone took their seats, I had a feeling that this seat by the door was my mother's.That's the east end of the table. The East is the origin of all things.My mother said that this is where the sun rises and where the wind originates. Aunt Anmei took a seat on my left, then dumped the mahjong tiles onto the green table and said, "Shuffle the tiles." Everyone reached out to wipe the tiles, and the dominoes collided with each other, making a muffled clattering sound. "Is your mother as good at poker as you are?" Aunt Linda, who was sitting across from me, asked me sullenly. "When I was in college, I played a little bit with some Jews." "Oh, Jewish mahjong!" She draws her voice disdainfully. "That's totally different." My mom used to say that too, but she never explained why. "Maybe I shouldn't just go to the table tonight, I should check it out first." I suggested. Aunt Linda got angry and felt that I was ignorant like a child: "There are only three of us in total, how can we rub it together? It's like a table with only three legs, and one of them is missing. Aunt Ying's husband passed away, so she called Her brother. Your father called you here for the same reason." I once asked my mother what is the difference between Jewish mahjong and Chinese mahjong.However, her answer confuses me. Is she referring to the difference in the way mahjong is played, or the different views on the Chinese and the Jews themselves? "That's a completely different thing," she explained in English. "In Jewish mahjong, you only need to memorize the cards in your hand. To play Jewish mahjong, you only need to use your eyes." "As for playing Chinese mahjong," she said, "you have to use your brain, it's very skillful, you have to memorize what other people have played. If you don't know how to play at all, it becomes like playing Jewish mahjong. What's the point? You don't need to use your brain, just watch others make a fool of yourself." Her explanation made me feel that, just as we often speak to each other, I speak my English, and she answers in her Chinese. I asked Aunt Linda: "What is the difference between Jewish mahjong and Chinese mahjong?" "My God," she snarled artificially, "didn't your mother ever tell you?" Aunt Ying patted my hand: "Come on, good girl, follow our example, here, stack the cards into four walls." I followed Aunt Ying to pile up the cards, and at the same time kept sneaking eyes on Aunt Linda, she had the fastest hands and feet.My hands and feet are not slower than others.映姨开始掷骰子，琳达姨是东风，我则是北风，最下家，映姨则是南，而安梅姨是西。然后再掷骰子，根据骰子上的点数，来决定麻将列上抓牌的切割处。我开始整理我的牌：一串索子和筒子，还有好几对万子，其他零星的杂牌，是不能配上去的。 “你妈的麻将打得真好，都成专家了。”安梅姨一边笃悠悠地理着牌，一边说。 每排列一张牌，她都慎重地掂量过。 现在开始了。大家一边从容地抓着牌，一边开始聊天，有一搭无一搭的。她们用她们自己特殊的语言谈天：一半是洋不洋腔不腔的英文，一半是她们自己的中国方言。映姨讲起她买了半价的毛线，好像就是街上挑来的便宜货。安梅姨则夸耀着自己给女儿露丝的小毛头织了一件这般好的小外套，“大家都以为，这是在店里买的。”她得意地说。 琳达姨则讲到，她怎样对一位售货员大光其人，因为他竟不让她退一条拉练已坏的裙子。“吃！”她一边捞进牌，一边还余怒未息地说：“我都给气死了。” “哦，琳达，你并没有死，你还好端端地坐在麻将台边呢。”映姨挪榆着她，一边咯咯地笑着。琳达姨突的一声“碰！”然后啪啦一声，她把牌往台上一摊，“和啦！”她一边数着自己的“段头”，一边讪笑着瞥了一眼映姨。大家重番洗牌，瞬时没人讲话，一片静默，我不禁觉得有点厌烦，而且也累了。 “呵，告诉你们一件事，”映姨冷不丁开口，她的嗓门很大，把大家都吓了一跳。映姨常常就是这样让人捉摸不透，有点自说自话。妈就常这么说她：“映姨倒不是听不到什么，而是她根本难得倾听什么。” “上礼拜六，埃默森太太的儿子给抓进去了。”映姨的口气，颇有点为自己的消息灵通而得意。“那是张太太在教堂里对我说的。说人家发现，他汽车里藏着大量电视机。” 琳达姨接口道：“哎呀，埃默森太太可是个好人呢！”言下之意，可惜摊上这么个不肖之子。现在想起来，她讲这话，也是为着顾全安梅姨的面子，不至令其大难堪。两年前，安梅姨的儿子因盗卖汽车音响而被捕。此刻安梅姨似乎正在认真琢磨什么牌，看上去挺不好受的。 “在中国，现在几乎人人都有电视机。”琳达姨换了个话题。“我们在大陆的亲戚，家家都有电视机——不单是黑白机，还有彩色和遥控的。他们什么都有，因此当我们问，需要带些什么回去时，他们则说什么都不要，只要回去看看他们就足够了。但不管怎么总得带点什么回去，比如录像机和索尼的'行路人'，给小孩子们玩玩嘛。尽管他们说不用啦，但我想他们会喜欢的。” 可怜的安梅姨，这时更似在苦思冥想着她的牌，一个劲地挨次捏摸着她的牌。 我还记得妈跟我谈起过许家三年前的中国之行，那次安梅姨几年来好容易积攒下来的两干美元，全在她娘家兄弟身上花了个精打光。我妈见识过她那沉甸甸的行李：一只箱子里塞满了各种干果和口香糖，糖衣腰果，速溶咖啡和果汁软糖。而另一只箱子则塞满了可笑的衣物，全是崭新的。有色彩鲜艳的加尼福尼亚式的海滩装，垒球帽，宽紧腰的棉布短裤，投弹手外套，斯丹福T恤和水手袜。 我妈曾劝告她：“谁要这种华而不实的玩意？他们只需要钱。”但安梅姨却说她的兄弟很穷，相比之下，她却富有多了。因此，她还是坚持带着这么一堆东西及省吃俭用攒下的两千块钱去中国了。当他们所在的旅行团最后抵达杭州时，她在宁波的全部亲友，都拥至杭州去接他们，这里不只包括安梅姨的小弟，还有弟妇的同母异父的兄弟姐妹，一个远房的堂妹及堂妹夫及那妹夫的叔父，他们各自还带了岳母和孩于，甚至他们村里的那些没运气有海外关系的朋友，一大群人都拥到杭州。 正如我妈说：“安梅姨在没到中国前，曾以为她将给她弟弟带去财富和幸福，将让她弟弟在中国过上生活水平中等的好日子。然而待她回来后，则哭丧着脸说：人人都伸手向她要这要那，她是旅游团里唯一给洗劫一空而离开的一个成员。” 我母亲的估计给证实了：不会有人要那种T恤和花哨的衣服，那些糖果给抛在空中不及落下就不见了。当箱子给掏空时，那些亲戚还在一个劲问：“还有什么？还有什么？” 安梅姨和乔治叔叔被敲诈掉的不仅仅只是价值两千美元的电视机和冰箱，还有计六个人在环湖宾馆一夜的房钱，在餐厅的三桌外宾规格的筵席，以及给每位亲戚的三份特殊礼物，最后，还把五千元外汇券“借”给一个堂妹的“小叔”，他说要买一辆摩托，然而这人最后连钱带人都不见了。待第二天他们坐火车离开杭州时，许家夫妇发现，他们竟花了九千美元来应付这些亲戚。几个月后，在第一中国浸礼会的一个心情激荡的圣诞礼拜上，安梅姨作见证说：“施较之得，更令人感到幸福。”她只是以此来平衡自己受伤的内心。我妈对此也颇赞同。反正，她的老朋友安梅姨所作的施舍，已够修好几个来世了。 现在，琳达姨在麻将台上如此津津乐道地称赞着她的大陆亲友的种种通情达理之处，我想，她应该明白，这会伤了安梅姨的心的。琳达姨是在使小心眼？也许，我妈只跟我一个人讲过，有关安梅阿姨夫妇在大陆被敲竹杠的倒霉事。其他人对此，或者还蒙在鼓里呢？ “精美，你还在读书吗？”琳姨问我。 “她叫琼。她们都有美国名字。”映姨说。 “叫琼也好。”我说。我倒宁可叫琼。事实上，如今在美国出生的华裔用中国名字，倒变成时髦之举了。 “我早已不读书了，”我说，“我离开学校已有十几年了。” 琳达姨的眉毛扬成了弓形：“可能我把其他朋友的女儿与你搞混了。”她说。 但我马上觉得她在撒谎。我知道，妈肯定已跟她说过，我打算回大学读完我的学位。 因为约半年前，我与妈又争辩了一次，她认为我是个失败者，一个大学的流生，坚持要我回校去把学位读到手。 我又一次哄了她：“你讲得对，我得考虑一下。” 我一直假定，我们母女间，持一种心照不宣的默契，即她并不真的认为我是个一事无成的失败者，而我，确也从心里觉得，要多多尊重她的见解。但今晚琳达姨又一次提醒我：我们母女俩，从来没有互相了解过。我们只是在注释着彼此的见解。 可我听人耳已打了很大折扣，而母亲听入耳的，却比我说的内容要多得多……所以，她才会跟琳达姨说，我打算回学校去读个博士学位。 琳达姨与我妈，既是好朋友，又在明争暗斗。她们花了整整一生，拿各自的孩子攀比着。我比琳达姨的宝贝女儿薇弗莱大一个月，打从我们襁褓时代起，我们的母亲们就开始比较我们肚脐的折痕，耳垂的形状，跌破的膝盖愈合时间的长短，头发的密疏与深浅，穿破鞋子的多少……后来，就是薇弗莱的棋下得有多好，又捧回了多少奖品，多少报纸刊出了她的名字，她游览过多少城市…… 我妈一听琳达姨提到薇弗莱，心里就不舒坦，自觉无法与她攀比。起先，妈是挺想培养我的。她替楼下一个退休教师做清洁工，而请他做我的免费钢琴教师，并借用他的钢琴让我练琴。然而我还是成不了独奏钢琴家，哪怕在教堂的青年唱诗班上伴奏也没有资格。她将此解释为，我是个大器晚成者。比如爱因斯坦，在他发明原子弹前，大家都以为他智力迟钝。 这圈麻将是映姨赢了，各自数好“段头”后，又开始新的一圈。 “知道吗，丽娜搬到树林区了？”映姨以一种大明星的自负口气说，一边看着她的牌，似乎不过随便说说的样子，一边迅速地收敛起那副得意的笑容力图作出谦虚的姿态：“当然，这还谈不上是一流的住宅区，也不属百万级的宅第，但这总归是一笔上算的投资，好过付房租，免得不意中被某人用手指弹出去。” 我这下明白了，映姨的女儿丽娜，一定已把我在俄罗斯公寓——一个层次较低的宅第，被房东赶出来的事告诉她妈了。不管怎么说，丽娜和我还是朋友。我们都长大成人了，相互说了太多的悄悄话，而且，同一件事，颠来倒去要讲上好几遍。 “时间不早了。”当这一圈完了后，我起身说。但琳达姨却把我按四座上。 “再坐一会，我们再聊聊，让大家重新认识一下你。”她说，“我们已有好久没有接触了。” 我清楚喜福会的阿姨们的这些客套：比如心里明明希望你可以告辞了，嘴上却还一个劲地挽留你，就像现在对我这样。“不，我真的要走了，谢谢。”我说，并且很高兴自己还记得应付这种客套的惯用托词。 “不，一定要再坐一会，我们有要紧事要跟你说，这与你妈妈有关。”映姨的大嗓门叫住了我，其他人的神情看上去也有点尴尬，好像这并非她们的本意，要在这里，触及一个多少令人伤感的话题。 我坐了下来。安梅姨旋身出去一会，端来一碗花生米，随手掩上门在桌边坐下。 霎时众人鸦雀无声，似乎不知该怎么打开一个话题。半天，映姨开口了：“我想，你母亲的死，是因为她冒出一个强烈的欲望。”她以不连贯的英文说着，渐渐改用中文娓娓地说开了。 “你妈，是个非常要强的女人。她很爱你，更甚于爱自己的生命。所以你就该明白，这样的母亲，是怎么也忘不了她另外两个孩子。她知道她们还在人世，还活着，在她去世前，她就打定主意去中国找她们。” 我立时想到，桂林的那对婴孩！我不是她们中之一。她们被她用吊带吊在双肩。 她的另外两个女儿！瞬时我觉得自己仿佛就置身在硝烟弥漫的桂林空袭之中，我看见，两个婴孩躺在路边嗷嗷啼哭，她们吮得通红的拇指，在我眼前晃动。她们的哭声感动了路人，她们被抱走了，她们得救了。然而现在，妈妈已永远离开了我，她回中国去照看这两个孩子了！在我神情恍惚之际，远远飘来映姨的声音： “……她找了多少年啦，写了一大堆信……”映姨说，“去年，她终于打听到了她们的消息，她打算马上跟你爸说……哎呀，真说不过去，哎呀，真不好受，把自己孩子活生生地扔了，难为情呀！” 安梅激动地打断了她：“因此，我们就按这个地址发了封信，”她说，“我们就说，你母亲，想要见见她们，现在，对方，你的姐姐们，回信来了，是你的姐姐呀，精美！” 我的姐姐！我机械地重复了一下。这两个字音在我，还是第一次发出。 安梅拿出一张薄薄的纸笺，上面整齐地由上至下，用蓝墨水写着一行中国字，中间一个字的墨水洞开来了，是眼泪吧？我用颤抖的手接过这张纸片，奇怪我的姐姐们，竟能书写如此流利的中国字，她们还能读中国字。 阿姨们对着我嘻嘻笑着，就像我是个死而复活的人一样。映姨又递给我另一只信封，里面是一张一千二百美元票面的支票，接受者是我。我弄糊涂了。 “我的姐姐给我的？”我问。 “哪里。”琳达姨嗔怒地说，“每年，我们将赢来的钱积起来，然后去一流的餐馆享用一顿。你母亲赢得最多，所以这里的钱多半是她赢来的，我们只添进了些许零头。这样你就可以用它作为去香港的费用，再乘火车去上海看望你的姐姐们。 至于我们，实在已经吃得太多了，要减肥节食了。 " “去看我的姐姐。”我漠然地重复了一遍。我有点害怕这样的会面，想象不出，这将是怎样的一个场面？阿姨们编造的那个有关年终宴会的谎话，令我窘迫不已，我哭了，哭着哭着，又笑了。我见到了母亲那颗拳拳之心，但又实在对她一点也不了解。 “你必须去看看你的姐姐，把你母亲的死讯告诉她们。”映姨说，“然而最要紧的是，你必须告诉她们你妈的身世。对这个母亲，她们是一无所知的，但她们必须知道。” “去看望她们，跟她们讲讲妈妈。”我连连点头答应，“但是……我该怎么说呢？关于妈妈，我能对她们说些什么呢？对她，我一丁点也不了解。” 阿姨们面面相觑了半天，好像我说了什么神智不清的话语。 “你，竟然一点都不了解自己的母亲？”安梅姨怀疑地嚷起来，“亏你说得出口。你必须了解自己的妈妈！” “跟她们讲讲，你在这里的家，讲讲你妈，是怎么撑起这份家业的。”琳达姨给我出了个主意。 “还有，跟她们讲讲，你妈给你讲的那些故事，她教你的那些做人的道理，她的一部分思想，已经钻入你的脑子里了，”映姨说，“你妈，真是个能干的女人。” 刹那间，“跟她们说……”“跟她们讲”，就像一曲多声部合唱，直冲我的耳膜。 “她的能干。” “她的活络。” “她那能干的持家之道。” “她的希望。” “她烧的那一手好菜。” “想想看，女儿竟然不了解自己母亲！” 细细想想，她们的种种叮嘱，她们对我的吃惊，其实只是，由我联想到她们自己的女儿。她们的女儿们，也像我这样，对自己母亲带至美国的准则和企望一无所知，而且漠不关心。她们发现，自己的女儿们不耐烦母亲们的汉语交谈，而当母亲们用结结巴巴的英语向她们解释，或注释某种意图时，女儿们则耻笑她们的英语，认为她们脑子不大灵活。母亲们认为是快乐和幸福的，在女儿眼中却不一定。对这些根本没见过世面的美国出生的脑袋瓜，“喜福会”三个字是空空然，毫无意义。 她们无奈地看着这些女儿们长大成人，生儿育女，将来还会儿孙满堂，繁衍下去，却看不到将母亲们的准则和期待代代相传的可能和希望。 “我会把一切都告诉她们。”我一口答应着，然而阿姨们却以疑惑的目光看着我。 “我会把我所知的一切，都告诉她们。”我十分肯定地重复了一遍。 终于，她们渐渐漾起微笑，一边轻轻拍着我的手。虽说她们的神情看着还有点怅然，若有所失，但目光充满了期待和希望，她们相信我会兑现我所说过的话。她们还能再要求些什么？我还能再允诺些什么呢？ 于是，又重番开始吃那酥烂的煮花生，一边开始讲述她们自己的故事；她们又变成一群年轻的姑娘，怀旧，梦想，憧憬着未来；那个宁波弟弟虽说很伤了姐姐的心，但或许他会把那九千美元连本带利还给姐姐的，这多少令她有点欣慰。某人的儿子，对立体声音响和电视机有浓烈兴趣，一旦他改邪归正，他可索性从事修理电器的事业，说不定，他还可以把这生意做到中国去。某人的女儿，她会生下个健康的婴儿……不论现实是如何千疮百孔，一切都会好起来的…… 我则端坐在麻将桌上我母亲的位置上，那是东首，万物起源之处。