Misty rain swirls

Author: Qiong Yao
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-09-01
Features: Excerpt:
It's that annoying day again. After dinner, I sat listlessly in a chair by the window, gazing out at the dense, drizzling rain. Water droplets hung from the eaves, forming a string of, like a pearl necklace. On the banana tree by the fence, water was rolling down from the broad leaves, drop by drop, falling monotonously and persistently onto the muddy ground. Outside the fence, a streetlight stood tall in the rain, emitting its dim yellow light indifferently, so aloof and proud, as if it had nothing to do with the affairs of the world. Well, what do the affairs of the world have to do with it anyway? I sighed and stood up from the chair. No matter what, I had to go take care of my own business.
"Yiping, haven't you gone yet?" Mom ran out from the kitchen. Her hands were still wet from washing dishes, and the blue apron with white stripes was still tied around her waist.
"I'm on my way," I said helplessly, searching for my umbrella in the corner of the room.
"When you get to 'that place,' don't get into conflicts with them. Tell Dad that the rent can't be delayed any longer—we're already two months behind."
"I know. No matter what it takes, I'll get the money!" I said, still looking for my umbrella.
"Your umbrella is in the closet," Mom said, taking it out and handing it to me. She glanced at the sky and whispered, "Come back early. If you get the money, take a tricycle home! It's going to rain harder."
Holding the umbrella, I stepped off the tatami mat and sat on the floor of the entranceway, putting on my rain-and-sun-resistant leather shoes. In truth, I didn't have a second pair of shoes. These were the ones Mom bought me when I graduated from high school last year. They had been worn for a full year and a half now. The old cobbler in the alley had repaired them countless times, but every time I took them to him, he would look at them and shake his head, saying, "Still this same pair? They're almost beyond repair."
Now, the soles and uppers of these shoes had split open again. On rainy days, every step I took let mud seep in, making a "gush" sound with each step. But I couldn't bring myself to take them to the cobbler one more time. Fortunately, the house at "that place" was paved with cobblestones, so I didn't need to take off my shoes. I wouldn't have to worry about my muddy feet being seen.
Mom saw me off to the front door, holding the door open and standing in the rain as I walked away. After I took a few steps, Mom called out from behind, "Yiping!" I turned back, and Mom whispered, "Don't get angry with them!" I nodded and continued walking for a bit, then turned back. Mom was still there, her thin and small figure looking so timid and lonely. The streetlight cast a pale yellow hue on her face. I waved at her, and she turned and stepped back into the doorframe.
I watched the door close before turning back, raising the collar of my coat against the cold wind and shivering slightly. I gripped the umbrella handle and walked forward.
The distance from home to "that place" wasn't too far, but it wasn't close either—it took about half an hour to walk, because there was no public transportation along the way, so I always went on foot. Fortunately, I only had to go once a month. Of course, this was assuming things went smoothly. If they didn't, and I didn't get the money on the day I went, I might have to go two or three more times.
The weather was very cold, and the wind felt like sharp blades on my face. Although the road was paved with asphalt, after walking only a short distance, mud seeped into my shoes. With every step, a stream of mud ran out from the seams, while another stream seeped in. The cold seeped from my feet all the way up to my heart, as if my entire body were immersed in cold water.
A car sped past me, and just as it hit a large pothole, splashing mud all over me. Before I could jump out of the way, all the mud landed on the green dress I had deliberately put on—the one I considered my best.
I brushed my hair aside. The rain had gotten heavier, and there was a small hole in the umbrella. No matter how I turned the handle, the rain either leaked down my neck or dripped onto my cheek. The wind swept up my skirt, gradually soaking it until it began to cling quietly to my legs, tracing its way down my calf and into my shoes.
I bit my lip and started calculating how much money I should ask from the man I called "father"—800 yuan for living expenses, 1,000 yuan for rent, totaling 1,800. I might as well ask for a few hundred more to cover winter clothes for me and Mom. It seemed like my shoes couldn't be postponed any longer this rainy season either.