"Let's see what the driver looks like." Dick floored the gas pedal. With a jolt his Mustang charged forward, passing the Volvo. He slowed down a little so that they could get a better look at the authorial driver. A stout woman with heavy makeup and a big bouffant hairdo was steering absentmindedly. Her head was bobbing and jerking, perhaps to music.
"Did you recognize her?" asked Nan when they had passed the car.
"No. She looks like a freak."
"Maybe the car is not hers."
"If she's an author, she must write romance novels."
They tipped their heads back and laughed. Dick said he should have a bumper sticker designed for his car, proclaiming published poet aboard! That might attract a lot of women.
Also men, Nan thought, but he didn't let that out.
11
FINALLY Edward Neary wrote back to Nan, saying he liked his poems, particularly the one entitled "Pomegranates." But the poems were unfinished yet and needed "some tightening." He didn't return the poems and instead said he'd like to discuss them with Nan in person. In September he was going to conduct a workshop at Key West, so he hoped Nan could attend his class there. He had enclosed a brochure that described the Key West seminars taught regularly by distinguished writers.
At first Nan was excited by the personal attention the poet had paid to him. Then, reading the letter again, he found something strange between the lines. At one point Mr. Neary wrote: "I vividly remember the night we spent at the bar outside Emory. Your sweet smile impressed me greatly. In fact, it comes to mind from time to time. Please go to Key West, where we can meet and talk about your work. Clearly you have a good deal of talent, but you need tutoring. You're still a diamond in the rough. So do make the best use of this opportunity. I wish to know you better."
Nan wondered if Edward Neary was making a pass. In the Gold Wok's bathroom he observed himself in the mirror and found his face quite masculine, with a squarish chin, a broad nose, and wide-spaced, shining eyes. He couldn't see how he could be attractive to men. Yet several times in the bank and bookstores he had caught men's furtive glances shot at him. This had never happened in China and was troublesome to him. If only those stealthy eyes had belonged to women. That would have boosted his confidence considerably. Now Mr. Neary's suggestion perplexed Nan, who was uncertain whether he should go to Key West. Probably he shouldn't even think about it, because Pingping would enter the third trimester of her pregnancy in September and he must be around. Also, he couldn't afford to be away from his business for more than two days, let alone an entire week. Still, it was extraordinary to have such an offer from a famous poet, and Nan couldn't stop musing on the invitation.
When Dick came the next time, Nan showed him Neary's letter. After reading it, Dick put it on the table and grinned mischievously. "What?" Nan asked. "What do you make of it?" "I think he's an old lech." "You mean he's gay?"
"No, everybody knows Neary is an inveterate womanizer." "Zen why did you smile like zat?"
"He remembered you wrong and took you for another person." "I don't get it."
"Remember Emily Choi, the Korean girl at the bar? He must've gotten you and her mixed up."
Blushing, Nan muttered, "Zat's ridiculous." He recalled the young woman, who had indeed had a sweet face and also bright, smiling eyes.
"Look, your name Nan must have suggested to him a female, like Nancy and Nanny and Nanette. As a matter of fact, Nan is a diminutive of Anne and Anna."
"Actually, Nan means 'male.' My name means 'martial man.' "
"But Neary doesn't know Chinese."
"I see. He just wants to sleep wiz me, right?" Nan burst out laughing hysterically.
Dick looked startled, staring at his friend, whose face was distorted by the laugh. When Nan had stopped, Dick said, "Forget about this letter, okay? You can always show me your poems, and I'll tell you what I think honestly."
"I will do zat, sanks." Nan felt better, though his cheeks were still twitching. He remembered that when he was at Brandeis, he had once received a small package containing a pair of tampons mailed to him as a target consumer. Over the years he had run into many Chinese who had transformed themselves into Barry, or Harry, or
Mary, or Larry, or Carrie, and he had wondered whether he should have changed his name too, but he had always chosen not to.
Having translated the Blue Stars article on Bao, Nan mailed it to his friend. To his surprise, Cathay Herald, a Chinese-language newspaper circulating in Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida, published the article two weeks later. The translator's name wasn't given; that bothered Nan a little. He was also annoyed by the author's new tone, which had been altered quite a bit from the English, more formal and more authoritative now. Evidently, either Bao or the editor had tampered with his translation. In the space of a month the same piece was reprinted in a magazine called Art World. Obviously Bao had been busy promoting himself. Why did he take his student's article so seriously? The original publication was only in a new, obscure journal. Why should Bao be so obsessed with such an amateur piece of writing? He was too vain. No wonder he couldn't concentrate on real work.
Then Nan realized that in this case his friend had indulged his fraudulence more than his vanity. Bao tried to utilize the gap between the two languages-since few Chinese were familiar with the journal Blue Stars and Tim's writings, they could be misled into believing that it was a magazine as reputable as any major Chinese-language publication and that Tim Dullington must be an established art critic. Art World is a top-quality magazine printed outside China, so the transferring of the original article into such a major publication would present Bao in a different light, as if he were already a celebrity in America. In short, the whole misleading process helped to raise Bao's image to a higher level to the Chinese audience.
It was clever chicanery. Bao would have been better off, Nan thought, if he had spent the time working on his art.
A few days later Nan received a painting from Bao, a bizarre piece in which Sakyamuni, the founder of Buddhism, was riding a white horse and leading a batch of his disciples. It was signed as a gift for Nan. Nan didn't like it because it looked dark and muddy, lacking in life. Without his friend's explanation in the note, he could hardly have figured out what it was about. Still, the piece was an accomplished painter's work, so he was glad to have it. Then the thought came to him that Bao must have meant to pay him for his translation with this painting and wanted him to keep mum about the original article. This realization further dimmed his interest in the gift, and he didn't even bother to write back to thank Bao.
12
PINGPING'S diabetes was under control through her low-carb diet. By late June she had been pregnant for five months. Dr. Walker, her obstetrician at the Norcross Medical Center, suggested that Pingping go to the headquarters of their medical group in Dunwoody to be examined regularly, since that clinic had more advanced equipment and eventually the baby would be delivered there. It would be better for the Wus to acquaint themselves with the people at that place. Nan phoned the clinic and made an appointment with Dr. Smith.