Shanghai Girl Read Online Free Page A

Mother was at work in the factory. We didn’t have a telephone.
    As the men searched and ransacked our place, one of them threw an English engineering textbook on the floor as if smashing a rice bowl, shouting, “Imperialist trash!”
    "Careful! These materials in stinking foreign languages are evidence of his crimes against the people," the older man warned.
    After the men bundled up Father’s books and handwritten notes with my parents’ bed sheets, they shoved Father toward our apartment door. "Father! Father! No! No!" I screamed. He could not speak, but his eyes looked painfully wronged.
    As if a circus had arrived, the entire neighborhood rushed out to watch my father being whisked away in the unmarked jeep. Out of the crowd of agitated and gossiping onlookers, a deep voice yelled, "Everybody go home. Let’s all go home, comrades. What’s there to see? It’s a good thing that our community is cleared of a class enemy!" It was Master Worker Wu.
    With stiff faces, the neighbors stopped talking and dispersed. There were a few minutes of frightening silence before life in our building resumed its usual chaos. I was left scrunched up under the building’s staircase, where I sobbed uncontrollably for a couple of hours. With the Wus in proximity, nobody dared to come near me. It was as if I had suddenly contracted leprosy . . .
    Some of the same people are so interested in today’s letter to Father from abroad. How things have changed since the days of the Cultural Revolution. Stepfather’s words resound in my ears: "It’s the 80’s now. China is opening up to the world." If Father were alive today, he would never be accused of being a spy for the U.S. but instead be eagerly courted. A connection with America is seen as a godsend to most people now.
    "The past is history, Aunt Cheng," I say. "What’s there to benefit from?"
    "What kind of attitude is that, Sha-fei girl?” Aunt Cheng exclaims. “We saw you moving in here, a chit of a girl in that lacy pink fairy dress. We remember how you had to be stripped down and change into those split-crotch pants to look more like the kids who lived in this area. We all shared your family’s happiness and sorrow. Now that you have some good news, you think you can hide it from us?" She swallows with effort and comes up with a little saliva, which she promptly spits into the sink. "Pooh!"
    Teacher Gao puts on a mediating smile. "Come on, Comrade Cheng. We’re all happy for Sha-fei. Let Sha-fei tell us the details of the news from America." She motions to Aunt Cheng, and then grins at me.
    "You both seem to know more than I do. All I know is that Father’s long-lost friend might be visiting Shanghai. I don’t even know what to do yet."
    Aunt Cheng’s face lights up, revealing her tea-stained teeth with years of lack of toothpaste. "Ai-ya!" she shrieks with delight. "Our Sha-fei will go to America and become Mrs. Americana. Once you’re there, you mustn’t forget all of us here, Sha-fei girl!"
    I reply with a forced smile. "Aunt Cheng, what you’ve said is all in your imagination. I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen. And I don’t know where this notion about a rich American husband comes from."
    With the chopsticks she used for cooking hanging out of her mouth like two long cigarettes, Aunt Cheng retorts, "Come, come, Sha-fei. Nowadays, who doesn’t want to marry an American? Look at my husband’s cousin twice removed. To go abroad, the girl even married a Chinese-American in his late sixties with grown children older than herself. But her letter home says that Meiguo is paradise, just as the written characters themselves promise – ‘Beautiful Country.’ Everyone drives a car. Nobody uses bicycles. Their garages are larger than our apartments!"
    "I’m not surprised," says Teacher Gao. "Some of my former students write to me from America saying the same thing. Over there, warm water flows from the tap. American women don’t have needles pinching