I followed her right away. Kuan stood there with the cup in his hand, as if he didn’t know what to do with it.
Then he finally collected himself, quickly put it down on the table; a little tea splashed over the rim. He noticed it and hesitated.
Was he going to waste time wiping it up? No. He straightened up quickly and followed after us.
She went first, Kuan and I did not look at each other, the huge thing would have to remain unsaid. We just kept our eyes on her. Her back was erect in the white coat. She moved quickly and lightly. Her hair was put up in a ponytail and it swung like a young girl’s.
She opened a door and we entered a gray room. A room without personality. No pictures of children adorned the walls, just a telephone on the desk.
“Have a seat, please.”
She indicated two chairs and rolled her own to the other side of the desk, so it didn’t separate us. Perhaps that was something they had learned during their studies, that the desk gave them authority and when they were going to speak about serious matters, it was best to come across as much like a fellow human being as possible. She was going to say something serious. Suddenly I wished that she were seated elsewhere, not so close. I leaned back, away from her.
“Can we see him?” I asked quickly. Suddenly I didn’t dare ask the other questions. How is it going, what’s happening to him, what has happened to our son?
She looked at me. “I’m afraid you can’t see him yet… and I have unfortunately been relieved of responsibility for your son.”
“Relieved of responsibility? But why?”
“We have worked with a number of hypotheses in connection with the diagnosis. But it is still unclear.” Her gaze wavered. “Anyway, the case is so complicated that it lies outside of my field.”
I felt a weak sense of relief. The worst words were not used. She didn’t say departed, dead, passed away. She said it was complicated, that they had hypotheses. That meant that they hadn’t given up on him.
“OK. Fine. Who has taken over?”
“A team was flown in from Beijing yesterday evening. I will give you their names as soon as I receive word myself.”
“Beijing?!”
“They are the best.”
“And in the meantime?”
“I’ve been asked to tell you that you must wait. That you can go home.”
“What? No!”
I turned towards Kuan. Wasn’t he going to say something?
Dr. Hio fidgeted in her chair. “He’s in the best hands.”
“We will not leave here. This is our child.”
“I’ve been asked to say that it will take time before they know any more. And there’s nothing you can do here now. Wei-Wen’s case was very special.”
I stiffened. Was.
The words could scarcely be heard when I finally opened my mouth.
“What are you trying to say?”
I turned to Kuan again for help, but he sat without moving. His hands lay motionless in his lap. He was not going to ask any questions. I turned to face her again.
The words came from deep inside me: “Is he alive? Is Wei-Wen alive?” She leaned forward slightly, ducked her neck and lifted her head towards us, like a turtle peeking out of its shell. Her eyes were round, pleading, as if she were begging us not to pester her anymore and she showed no signs of answering.
“Is he alive?”
She hesitated. “The last time I saw him, he was being kept alive through artificial means.”
Beside me Kuan gasped. I saw that his cheeks were wet, but it didn’t concern me.
“What does that mean? That he’s still alive, that means that he’s still alive?”
She nodded slowly.
Alive. I held on to the word. Alive. He was alive.
“But not without help,” she said in a low voice.
It wasn’t important. I forced myself to think that it wasn’t important. The most important thing was that he was alive.
“I want to see him,” I said loudly. “I am not leaving until I’ve seen him.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“He’s my son.”
“As I told you, I’m no longer responsible for him.”
“But you know where he is.”
“I’m truly sorry.”
I got to my feet abruptly. Kuan raised his head, looked at me in astonishment. My eyes did not meet his. I turned to face the doctor.
“Show me where he is.”
Chapter 18
GEORGE
I sent Rick and Jimmy home around five o’clock. Just one-third of the hives were left. I could manage the rest by myself. Couldn’t afford to pay them for hours that weren’t necessary.
Around sunset I’d almost finished. At about the same time, the field was attacked by some extremely tenacious flies. Where they went during the daytime, I had no idea. But at dusk they appeared, huge clouds of them, impossible to get rid of. It seemed as if they liked people, because they were all over me, following my every step.
There was nothing to do but go home. I was on my way to the car when Tom called. I hadn’t saved his number, honestly didn’t know how, but I recognized it.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi.”
“Where are you?”
“Why do you ask?” I said and chuckled.
“I don’t know.”
“Used to be people started conversations with how are you. Now, since cell phones, people ask where you are,” I tried to explain.
“Yes.”
“I’m out in the fields. Doing quality control.”
“Oh. Does it look good?”
“Terrific.”
“Good. Good to hear. That makes me happy.”
That makes me happy? The words sounded awkward in his mouth. Was that how he’d started talking?
“What do you think that means, by the way?” I asked.
“Means?”
“About society? That we ask each other where we are, instead of how it’s going?”
“Dad.”
“I’m kidding, Tom.” I tried to laugh. As usual, he didn’t laugh back. We were silent for a couple of seconds. I laughed louder, hoping it would help, but just when I was standing there with my mouth open like the church doors on Sunday, a fly flew right into my trap, all the way in. I could swear that it hit my uvula. It tickled something fierce. I didn’t know what I should do, whether I should try to cough it up or swallow, so I tried doing both at the same time. It didn’t work.
“Dad,” Tom said suddenly. “You know that thing we talked about the last time I was home?”
The fly wriggled and tickled in the back of my throat.
“Are you there?”
I coughed again. “Yes, last time I checked.”
He was silent for a moment.
“I got a scholarship.”
I could hear him inhale. The line between us crackled, as if the phone signals were objecting to the entire conversation.
“It won’t cost you a cent, Dad. John has taken care of everything.”
“John?” My voice was husky, the fly was good and stuck in my throat.
“Yes. Professor Smith.”
I cleared my throat, coughed violently, but neither the fly nor words came out.
“Are you crying, Dad?”
“I’m sure as hell not crying!”
I coughed again. Finally the fly came loose, sliding across my tongue, but it was still in my mouth.
“No,” he said.
Another silence.
“I just wanted to tell you.”
“Now you’ve told me.”
I couldn’t spit now. He would hear it.
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“So long, then.”
“So long.”