Chapter 15 — Today, I’m Done Waiting

That was why, when you inflicted wounds upon me, the agony felt all the more profound.

Xie Wanchuan’s eyes were bloodshot.

Then what about hereafter?

From now on, you are the father of Jiamu.

That is all.

I turned my back and walked away. He did not give chase. Three months later, the Late Spring Bookstore reopened its doors for business. I did not lease the adjacent commercial space. I merely repainted the walls and restored the bookshelves. The ground floor was dedicated to books, while the upper level served as my living quarters. Jiamu kept a set of colored pencils in each place—one at his father's house, one at his mother's. From Monday through Friday, the boy stayed with me. Every weekend, he crossed over to spend two days at Xie Wanchuan's residence. In the beginning, whenever he stepped out the door, the child would repeatedly ask the very same questions over and over again.

Mother, are you going to move away?

Will you still come to pick me up next week?

When I return, will my little bed still be there?

Eventually, the boy stopped asking altogether. Xie Wanchuan began attending parent-teacher conferences punctually. He remembered that Jiamu would break out in hives if he ate shrimp. He would switch on the bedroom lamp for his son whenever thunder and lightning broke out across the sky. These were things a father ought to do by right. They were not bargaining chips to be used in winning back a wife. Shen Rou had already departed from this city. Later on, people said that Xie Wanchuan had once gone in search of her, hinting that they might try dating. But Shen Rou refused. Perhaps what she had desired, from the very beginning to the end, was merely a Xie Wanchuan willing to abandon his wife for her sake, rather than a genuine life requiring two people standing shoulder to shoulder to bear its burdens. Qin Manhua still did not care for me. Yet she no longer told Jiamu that his mother's health was too frail to care for him properly. At least she no longer presumed to decide for Jiamu who was best suited to be his mother. On the day the bookstore reopened, I took out a wooden box. Inside lay the very first ultrasound photograph of the pregnancy. A pair of newborn socks that had never been given. And that longevity lock as well. On the day of our divorce, I had not taken it with me. Later, Xie Wanchuan instructed his assistant to deliver it to me. I did not throw it away. That child had once existed. We must not deny the presence of our offspring simply because a marriage had reached its end. I tucked the wooden box away into the deepest corner of the wardrobe. Then I closed the door. Jiamu was sprawled across the cash register, laboring over a sign to announce that we were open. The boy had recently learned many new characters. His handwriting was crooked and clumsy.

Mother, what should I write today?

Write ‘Open for Business.’

The boy bent his head and concentrated fiercely for a moment. Then he held it up for me to see. What was written there was not ‘Open for Business.’ Instead, it read:

Mother is not waiting for anyone today.

I froze for a fleeting moment.

Why did you write it this way?

Because Father came to pick me up yesterday.

Father said he was waiting for Mother outside the door.

But Mother did not walk out.

I smiled faintly. I hung the wooden board upon the glass door.

You wrote it wonderfully.

The sunlight streaming through the window was brilliant and warm. More than half of spring had already slipped away. Though it had arrived very late indeed, at last, it had finally come.

THE END