Madwoman On the Bridge and Other Stories Read Online Free

keep her in
suspense. ‘Last time I made you bell-bottoms, but I
haven’t seen you wearing them.’
    ‘How do you know I haven’t worn them? I don’t wear
them for you ,’ she started in a bullying tone, then suddenly
switched back to sweetness and light. ‘Oh, what does it
matter anyway? First, you’re not my boss, and second,
you’re not my husband. You’re my tailor, so your place is
just to do the job. Besides, where is it written that if I have
clothing made I have to wear it outside the house?’
    ‘I make clothes for you, and then you’re too scared to
wear them? I suppose you want to be named a model
worker, afraid of being criticized by your superiors?’ the
tailor said. ‘You mean you’ll only wear it at home? Just for
your husband? What a waste!’
    ‘You dirty old hunchback! What business is it of yours
who I wear it for?’ Wenqin picked up a piece of chalk and
threw it at him. ‘Let me tell you something: a lot of the
clothes I’ve ordered are stored in my chest. Even if I don’t
wear them, I can still take them out and look at them.
They make me feel better.’
    ‘After all the work I put into that clothing, you let it
rot away in a chest? When I think how demanding you
were when I was making it: if the end of a thread was
too coarse you kicked up such a fuss! And then you
take it all home to stick in a box?’ The tailor looked as
if he couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh. He stared at
Wenqin, and suddenly his face hardened. ‘Well, I won’t
make clothes for you, not any more. The money I earn
off you is like a traitor’s reward: I end up holding myself
in contempt.’
    ‘Oh, yes? Or maybe you don’t even know how to make
a cheongsam!’ Wenqin was clearly irritated. She held it in
check for a moment, and then went on baiting him. ‘And
here was I thinking you were the best tailor in the city!
Best tailor my arse, if you can’t even make a cheongsam.’
    ‘I never said I was the best in the city, did I? In a
profession like this, it doesn’t matter who says they’re the
best; it’s the clothing that does the talking in the end.’ After
clowning about, the tailor grew more serious. Avoiding
Wenqin’s eyes, he squinted sideways at the madwoman,
sizing her up as she stood by the shop window. ‘Has the
lady comrade come here to stroll around? Why doesn’t
she take a seat?’ Still the madwoman stood by the
window, stretching one of her hands into the window
display to fondle something.
    ‘Never mind her,’ said Wenqin, ‘she can’t sit still. Just
tell me how we should go about taking the measurements.’
    ‘You’re a little fuller than she is. Chest, waist and
hips will all be different. What choice do we have? Get
her to take her cheongsam off and put it on yourself.
That’s the only way to do it if you want accurate measurements.’
    The madwoman raised her head and walked daintily
around, pointing at the clothing hanging on the racks
with her sandalwood fan. She pointed at a tawny army
uniform and said, ‘The People’s Liberation Army.’ Then
she pointed at a white shirt and said, ‘Red Guards.’ Then
it was blue trousers: ‘Junior Red Guards.’ A black skirt:
‘Old women.’ In the course of pointing at all the clothes
she reached a dress with blue polka dots that reminded
her of her daughter, Susu. She turned around and asked
Wenqin, ‘What time is it? Shouldn’t Susu be on her way
home?’
    Wenqin glanced at her wristwatch and said, ‘No rush,
no rush.’ But her body tensed, and with a glare at the
tailor she said, ‘I’m not in any mood to chatter the day
away here. Hurry up and get started. I have a million
things to do at home and I must get back.’
    The tailor chortled and said, ‘You want me to get
started? On whom? Shall I help you undress?’
    Wenqin raised one finger and tapped herself on the
forehead. ‘Tricked me again! Every time I come here I’m
swept up in your chatter. You flirt away without my even
noticing.’
    Wenqin lured the