Chen Wen-to turned restlessly. He dreamed he was in prison - a narrow, oblong cell. Cold, gray-black walls of angular bricks were bulging out; unfriendly eyes were moving toward him, steadily add menacingly.
He turned again, moaning. There was a struggle going on. He wriggled, made meaningless motions with one of his arms. Abruptly, he knocked his, head against the bedpost and woke up.
Somehow a little surprised, he found the room half bathed in sunshine. It was a bright Sunday, even as he had wished. He leaped out of bed. The breeze was blowing the curtains. From its caress, he knew the weather was fine and dry. His smile broadened. It was his day.
Pulling on his trousers, he thought of his plans for this day. His schoolmate, now the editor of a magazine, had called and asked him for a contribution, a short story or a piece of lyrical prose. It was a natural request. He had majored in literature and edited the class monthly for three semesters. How could he turn down an old schoolmate? So he had sat at his desk for two hours, but with no result. He was discouraged, wrapped in a dead crust like an aging cicada. How to break into light and air and spring once more? How to create, again, something besides his children? He had decided yesterday. The answer was to get away. from others and commune with the muse and himself. Today he would go to the country, to Shih Tou Shan, and be as one with nature and the universe.
The realism of Sunday descended. He began to fear that his wife's objections would scuttle his trip. She was a good and lovable wife. Once her mind had been on him. Now he had to share it with their two children. How often their needs seemed to differ from his! Last night he had almost despaired. When he first broached the subject of his outing, she hadn't said no, and he was elated. But, then the rain clouds gathered. Maybe his wife even controlled the weather.
Now all that was past. It was a wonderful day after all. In all his 36 years, could he remember a more beautiful, a more auspicious day? It was a cooperative day, too, and the nightmare of the night was gone.
Smiling and whistling, he opened a drawer, rummaging for a pair of socks. When he saw the twain did not meet, he burst out laughing, recalling his old French teacher, who not only mixed her colors crazily, but even her footgear. Once it was a black calf pump on one foot and a white satin sandal on the other.
"Trivialities!" he thought. He was free for this day—no office, no one to criticize. How could conflicting socks interfere with his ability to create? He laughed again.
His elder daughter, Chien Chien, hearing Daddy's pleasant voice, came bounding in, followed by her sister, Hsiao Ying. The three-year-old stood by a small table, studying Daddy with beady eyes, thumb in mouth. Chien Chien was intent on her invented service —the choice of his necktie. Proud to be useful, she climbed cautiously upon a chair, examining with calculated eye the colorful lot. Finally, she chose one and handed it to him—a gray one with green stripes. The color was not as bright as the day. But Chen accepted his daughter's choice without a word. Soon he was dressed and adjusting the tie. Nothing could bother him this day. Hsiao Ying upset a dish of watermelon seeds. Chien Chien started whacking younger sister with a picture book. The waste basket went over and the two were at each other, giggling and screaming.
Still, it was a beautiful day. Father was busy grooming himself and took no notice of what was going on. He had decided to take the 8:20 bus ... no time for the kids. He sorted out a ruby pin to go with Chien Chien's dull choice. The mirror told him it was not so bad. He was not so particular about clothes, yet was not altogether displeased with the smart-looking image that looked back at him.
Even Chien Chien had stopped whopping small sister long enough to look at him. "Okay, Chien Chien," he said, patting her on the head, "Tell Mamma, Daddy is ready." He would have a bite and put a few things in his bag. He did not have to kiss her goodbye in the Western way, but he would tell her what time he would be home.
The children vanished and Chen began to look for his pen and notebook. The children had turned everything topsy-turvy and he couldn't find them. He called his wife. No answer. He toured the house and the yard. The mistress of the house was gone as surely as his fountain pen and notebook. He resumed the search, adding his small canvas bag to the list of quarry. By now the closet was a mess, and he was dragging out the treasure trove from under the bed. Still no luck except that Hsiao Ying returned, ready to be unhelpful.
Chubby hands flying, she dove into the mess he had made. She found a broken doll, but some old carbon paper won the popularity contest. Soon she was smudged over face and hands, and Daddy's fresh towel was grabbed to rub it in. Somehow his clean underwear became involved, too, and he rushed to the rescue. His own things went to the top of the book case, out of Hsiao Ying's reach. He had his reward, though. Underneath everything were his pen and notebook.
Then he looked at the clock—8:15 already, and he couldn't catch the bus. Still "helpful", Hsiao Ying climbed atop a chair and began reaching. Father raised his hand, but the blow wasn't necessary. There, at last, smiling and composed, was his wife, Chien Ying, who made Hsiao Ying into a demure statue with a mere gesture.
She had been out for the milk and breakfast was ready. Would he please come and eat?
Quickly, deftly, everything was put to rights without a question or word of comment. Even Hsiao Ying was plucked up, then banished with scarcely a word. He asked for his bag and it was magically placed in his hand.
"I'll catch the 9 o'clock bus," be said.
"Where to?" she asked.
"Shih Tou Shan!" he replied without explanation.
Only her eyebrows went up, and those almost imperceptibly.
"Why didn't you say so?" she asked. He might as well have said Damascus. What did she care? Indifference was reflected in her voice.
Chien Ying recalled that her husband had said something about a trip at supper last night. She had been preoccupied at the moment. Chien Chien was about to throttle Hsiao Ying and that had seemed to take precedence over her husband's announcement. Chien Ying didn't mention it now, however. She was not one to quarrel with a ruffled husband. Men, after all, were only children, and there was no use arguing with them. Nonetheless, she was sorry, and smiling, she promised she would have him ready for the 9 o'clock bus. "Better eat your breakfast first," she said. But why, she thought, shouldn't he wait until 9: 30; it was such a lovely day to sun the clothes that were mildewing in the closet. He could watch the children for just a little while.
"All right, all right, just don't be too lang." Chen waved her off to the clothes line. Chien Ying was always an able bargainer. Already, she had taken an hour of his precious day.
Chen sat down to wait. Life is like this, he thought. What you think to get done, you don't, and what you didn't expect seems to come your way. What a way to write his small masterpiece!
When his wife returned, a basket dangled from her arm. Reward there was, however. She handed her husband a package of cigarettes, and said: "Just a few minutes more, dear, Mrs. Li can't shop for me today, and we have nothing for your dinner. I'll be right back."
The cigarettes were to keep him quiet. Unfortunately, he couldn't give one to Hsiao Ying, who now erupted because Mamma had taken Chien Chien to market and left her behind with Daddy. Candy and sugar-coated words were no consolation for loss of the market place. She writhed in Daddy's arms, kicking and struggling. Exhausted, she finally went to sleep. He smoked three cigarettes and watched the whirring hands of the clock, stealing away his day. The clock struck 10 and Chen said "Damn” at the same time. He stuffed towel, cigarettes, and notebook into his bag. He would take his trip anyway, if only to show that Chien Ying.
Warm April breezes stirred the leaves of the trees and brushed the mop of his hair. The ruby shone brightly against his well ironed white shirt. He whistled, lighted a cigarette, ,and quickened his pace. He was almost at the bus stop when it happened.
"Chen, what luck to meet you!" It was a good friend-too good to be easily shaken.
"Why the rush?" his friend asked.
Chen mumbled his reply.
"To Shih Tou Shan, alone? Ha! What's her name?"
"Now, listen ... " Chen protested.
"Okay, okay, forget it. No blushing. Everyone know you are the best husband in the world. What else could you be with such a charming wife. Too bad Chien Ying doesn't have a sister. I'm ready but no Miss. However, that's not why I'm here."
"You coming to see me, Yang?"
"What else would bring me all this way? You remember our talk about the reorganization of our company. When I recommended you to my boss he said: 'Wonderful idea, Yang. If your friend knows all those people, he's just what we need.' How about it—only a few hours a week and top pay? Let's go to your place and talk it over."
Yang didn't have to drag his friend home. Chen had already turned around. He was glancing at his wrist watch and thinking, thinking of Hsiao Ying, whom he had left fast asleep on his bed. His wife wasn't always a fast shopper. She might spend 20 minutes bargaining for a new tooth brush. The neighbor's maidservant was supposed to keep an eye out—but these young girls, all they thought of was boys, the movies or this new TV.
Chien Ying returned with her basketful of meat, vegetables, and eggs. Chen was in the living room with his friend. On the floor was ,the bag. Hsiao Ying was working hard at the zipper, determined to find out what was inside. "You are the best destroyer in the world, Hsiao Ying," Mamma said, then turned to greet Yang with just the right amount of warmth. Of course, the guest stayed for luncheon, and it was almost 2 before he said good-bye. He had been so polite, suggesting he should leave early because they might want to go to a movie.
After the usual battle, elder daughter was down for her nap. Hsiao Ying followed. She had pestered Daddy about the bag. "What's in it?" She kept asking. Questions ceased under his rhythmic patting and the lullaby he whistled.
Chien Ying tiptoed into the room. "Why don't you go now?" she asked. "I'm sorry it's so late."
"Oh! I guess not today," Chen said. "Maybe I'll write some letters."
"A movie?" she asked. It was a rhetorical question. She knew he didn't care much for movies, and never went alone.
"I ran into Mrs. Chang Wan-lin at the market," she said casually.
This reminded Chen that he owed Chang, his section chief, a visit. Chang's younger brother was to be married in June, and Chen was supposed to be keeping his eyes open for a suitable house. He asked Chien Ying to get supper ready a little early so they could call on the Changs.
So they went, the girls in their best dresses. When they were home again, it was well past nine. Hsiao Ying went to sleep in the taxi, head buried on Daddy's shoulder. Chien Ying quickly put the children to bed.
"Wen-to, I have good news for you," she told her husband. "Mrs. Chang told me, not point-blank, but just sort of hinting, that Vice Chief Liu in your office will be transferred. He has recommended you 'to the Director to fill the vacancy."
Chen clasped his hand behind his back and casually observed that all this was nothing new, that the promotion was only a possibility, and that no one knew who the Director had in mind.
"To tell the truth," he said, "I don't give a damn. Here I am a writer, not an errand boy and fixer, and another week-end has slipped away."
Chien Ying, who had been looking out the window at the stars, turned sympathetic eyes on him, and said: "Next week-end will be different. I'll have everything ready for you and you can write the whole day."
Wen-to had lost interest somehow. Sensing this, she turned the conversation to Hsiao Ying, who was more boy than girl after her latest haircut. Imagine! That Mrs. Ting had refused to believe their daughter was a girl.
Just then a neighbor came in to borrow a can opener. Chien Ying handed it over, and returned to the topic of the outing.
"I mean what I said, Wen-to. I hope with all my heart your dream will come true next Sunday." Then she giggled and said, "But be careful of those tigers in the mountains. And don't get lost in the woods."
"In that case, I'd better take Hsiao Ying along," he responded. "She'll protect me with her water pistol." A smile creased the corners of his mouth.
"No, no, Wen-to; we'll all go, all four of us. The girls will guard us." She opened the door and vanished into the darkness of their bedroom. He shrugged. Well, at least, something could be salvaged from a "lost" Sunday.