RongJun

Written on July 22, 2006

RongJun had a smile that, when she let it shine, could set an entire room aglow.  Perhaps this is why, when I first saw her peeking around the corner on the day of our arrival, I liked her more than reason decreed I should.  I can’t say for certain, but it was filled with such joy that it could make anyone feel as though the world belonged to them if they allowed it to work its magic and she always seemed to have it waiting for me. 

I shouldn’t have been intimidated by her.  She’d given me no reason to hold her at arm’s length, yet I was terrified.  Only when I realized that I wasn’t an annoying little burr in her side which she was trying to shake off, did I fully admit to myself that my fear of losing her was causing me to willingly surrender to the idea of walking away from her. 

I kept trying to convince myself that she’d rather me leave her alone.  If I could accept this, I wouldn’t feel so cowardly, but there was no escaping contact with someone who worked in the Laundry Room, unless of course, one fancied the idea of running around naked in the middle of winter, an option I was not terribly keen on, so every afternoon, I’d march myself downstairs to face whatever lay in wait.

My apprehension was silly really, a childlike fear of “what if” and try as I might, I could not seem to wrestle it to the matt.  It was so much bigger than I. 

We seemed unfairly matched, my insecurity and myself, but she would smile at me and I could feel a bit of the weight lift from my shoulders. 

Still, I considered myself somewhat trapped between my growing attachment to RongJun and the fact that I couldn’t speak to her.   I couldn’t even say “hello”, “goodbye” or “thank you” and, as I would sit on the edge of this communication ravine staring out at the silhouette on the horizon, I’d often wonder what was wrong with me.  Why did I always push and pull people simultaneously?  Why couldn’t I get along with my Husband’s coworkers and their wives?  And why did I possess such an incredible yearning to forge a connection with the local inhabitants of the villages around the Airport? 

The bitter truth is that, if I had connected with the English speaking crowd, it would have been all too easy to stay adrift in the status quo, but I hadn’t found a friend there.  In fact, I felt as much of, if not more so, a foreigner when sitting in their midst than I did when completely surrounded by Chinese.  Further more, I couldn’t allow myself to treat the people around me as though they had nothing better to do than serve my every need.  They were people after all, good, hardworking people who I greatly admired. 

So why was I still too scared to approach RongJun?

I’m sure the fact that I’d suffered a fairly dramatic miscarriage which had landed me in the hospital, that my Mother lost her final battle with cancer the following week, and that these events occurred within the span of our last month Stateside all played a large role in my reluctance to reach out to RongJun, or anyone. 

I’d been hurt badly by the state in which my Mother’s and my relationship had been left and the loss of the baby complicated these emotions, but the fact that I seemed to be running from RongJun due to wounds she had not helped create seemed foolish.  However, try as I might, I felt lost as to how to handle myself when in her presence and needed something or someone to push me in the right direction. 

The instant which accomplished this task still upsets me.

A person, whose presence, aside from this one span of five minutes, has become little more than that of an irrelevant detail in the shadows of a few unimpressive memories, approached the place where I stood with RongJun.  He unabashedly shooed her away, looked at me pityingly, then proceeded to tell me that she was nothing more than a worthless little washer woman.  He asked why I, a “Rich American” was wasting my time with such a poor peasant…  He would never trust someone like her with his children, and warned me that she would be a bad influence on them. 

He rambled on for some time, but I couldn’t believe my ears, so I shut them off. 

Furious and offended, I felt so many emotions rear their heads at once that it was all I could do not to begin screaming obscenities at the narrow-minded imbecile. 

How dare he say that about her?  How dare he say that about anyone?

I clenched my teeth in an attempt to retain my composer and looked around frantically for RongJun, desperate to make eye contact with her, but all I caught was a glimpse of the back of her head as she disappeared around the corner.

Not knowing what else to do, I turned my attention to the one who had given voice to such absurdities.    

He too was watching her exit and something about his oily grin told me that he was one of those individuals who derived some sick pleasure from making others feel badly about themselves, but his sneering rapidly dissipated as I bore into him with my eyes.

I left the Lobby merely to rid myself from the sight of him, but as I climbed the stairs and the venom in my demeanor dissipated, I could not stop the tears which began to pour from me, nor, upon my arrival home, could I adequately explain to Rod what had happened, or why I’d returned in such an emotional state, but how I cried! 

I wept for our lost child, for my Mother, for so many reasons other than the one which had triggered this onslaught of grief that I had no tears left that night to shed on RongJun’s behalf.   

I’m not sure how clearly she understood the words spoken, or what her take on the whole situation was, but the man’s disapproval had been palpable and I found that, suddenly, the smile which I’d come to depend on was absent from our daily interaction.  In its stead, an overwhelming sense of disappointment seemed to taint the beauty in her once joyful visage. 

I would often hear laughter echoing down the hall as I approached, but find myself greeted by apologetic smiles from the others present and a very good view of the part in RongJun’s hair because she wouldn’t look up.  For days on end, she refused to look at me.

Her eyes would meet mine for the split second in which it took for her to recognize me, then she’d shift her line of vision to someplace on the floor, hand me my sack of clothes, nod a vague acknowledgement to my muttered “Thanks”, return her attention to her work and leave me standing there feeling a little idiotic and unsure of what to do next.

I wished I could ask her if the way that man had dismissed her so easily had anything to do with this sudden change in her behavior, or if I had done something to cause it?  If only I could speak to her…  If only I could understand… 

If only, if only, if only…  This phrase plagued my thoughts.  My initial fear seemed so trivial and selfish in the light of the passed week.  I had been terrified of losing her, but now that it looked as though I actually had, I felt as though someone had ripped a hole in my heart, but, since she continued to play with the kids when Josh, Sam and I ventured into the Lobby, I hadn’t yet lost hope of rebuilding the bridges which, at present, appeared to have been targeted by arsonists. 

However, after a full week passed without her speaking to me or venturing out from the depths of the building to see the kids, I felt that it was final.  She was gone.  I’d somehow messed things up so badly that this wonderful person, who I’d come to dearly care about, was lost to what ever realm of misunderstanding had initially divided us.

My tears for RongJun caught up to me that night, and as they flowed forth, my husband offered me this bit of encouragement, “Just keep loving her, Elizabeth.  Even if she can’t understand a word you say for the rest of your life, she’ll understand that.  It’ll be alright.  Search your heart.  You know this to be true.”