【Hao Sisi · Wife】
The movers knocked at eight on the dot. I was still looking for my other slipper.
“Coming, coming, coming, stop knocking, I know the doorbell’s broken, I also know you’re knocking.” I hopped over on one foot and pulled the door open. Two men. The one in front was six-foot-something, grey work vest, a white towel slung over one shoulder, the towel no longer white. The one behind was skinny, hugging a stack of flattened cardboard boxes taller than his face.
“Kuaima Moving. Morning, boss.” the one in front said. “Don’t call me boss, I’m the vendor, the kind of vendor who draws pictures for people, the lowest-ranked species on earth.” I stepped aside. “Don’t bother with your shoes, as of today this floor isn’t mine anymore, stomp wherever you like.”
He glanced down at my one bare foot, said nothing, and came in.
“I’m Hao Sisi, thirty, I do concept art for games, you know those girl characters on your phone who barely wear anything, I drew half of them. Don’t believe that, it’s a tenth, the rest are my coworker’s, her chest is bigger than mine and so are the ones she draws.”
“I’m Da Zhuang, thirty-five.” He pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped his hands. “This is my apprentice Xiao Ma, twenty-two, just out of the army last year, all muscle and no mouth.” “All muscle and no mouth is great, I’m all mouth and no muscle, between us we make one whole person.”
Xiao Ma set the boxes down, nodded at me, didn’t say a word, and went straight to look at the bed in the bedroom.
Lu Yiming came out of the kitchen with the car keys and a document folder. My husband, thirty-two, data ops, doesn’t say many more words than Xiao Ma does. “Hello, Shifu. I’m heading to the property registry for the deed, I’ll get the gas account transferred while I’m there, back before noon.”
“Go on, I’ve got this end.” I said. “What number did you get?” “Eighty-seven.” “Then you won’t be back by noon.”
He gave me a look and tucked the folder under his arm. “The ones that are sealed, don’t let them get tossed around.” “I know. I know better than you.”
The door shut. His footsteps went down two flights in the stairwell and then I couldn’t hear them anymore. Six floors, no elevator, we live on the fifth. The year we moved in he carried me up on his back. He can’t anymore. He says I got heavier, I say he got older.
【Da Zhuang · The Other Man】
I’d come by last week to quote this place. Six-floor walk-up, fifth floor, two bedrooms and a living room, not much stuff, one truckload. The day of the quote she wore a skirt. Today it was a white T-shirt washed until the collar had given out, the hem tied in a knot at her waist, a strip of belly showing, running shorts, and a blue mark down the outside of her thigh, marker pen or something.
The mouth never stopped. From the second I walked in she hadn’t stopped.
Eleven years in this trade, I’ve seen plenty of talkers. Usually it’s nerves around strangers, or they’re scared we’ll break something and they keep an eye on you by talking. Not her. She just says whatever lands in her head, and once it’s out she doesn’t wait for you to answer.
“Let me lay down the rules.” She crouched in the middle of the pile of boxes in the living room. “Anything sealed with tape, don’t touch, that’s my sketches, my drawing tablet, my husband’s hard drives, you drop those and I’m sleeping on the sofa with him. Anything open, carry it however you want, look however you want, there’s nothing worth looking at anyway.”
“The open ones I have to seal.” I said. “They’ll come apart on the truck otherwise.” “Then seal them, but let me look first.” “Fine.”
I took the tape gun, lined it up on the seam of the box, pulled the tape all the way down, rrrip, ran my palm along it end to end, one cut on the teeth. Three seconds.
She watched from beside me, her eyes following my hand. “That tape-ripping sound of yours is nicer than the ASMR on my husband’s phone, he needs that to fall asleep, I need his snoring to fall asleep, we listen to each other.” “Next.” I said.
She pushed another box over, open, folded underwear on top, nude, black, one leopard print. She saw me see it.
“Those are mine, not sealed, look if you’re going to look, they’re all washed.” “I’m not looking.” “If you’re not looking how are you going to seal it.”
I closed the flaps, pulled the tape across, rrrip. She laughed out loud. “What are you blushing for, you’re thirty-five.” “It’s hot.”
It was hot. No elevator, one box after another on your back down the stairs, the vest soaked through and stuck to my back, sweat dripping off my chin onto the cardboard, the cardboard drinking it fast, one dark round dot per drop. On the fourth trip up she handed me a bottle of ice water, the bottle beaded all over, her fingers wet too.
“What about your apprentice, give him one too.” “He’s taking the bed apart. He’ll drink when he’s done.”
She crouched there with her head tipped back, watching me drink. Loose collar on the T-shirt, and looking down from above, small tits, no bra, two points pushing at the cloth. She knew I was looking. Didn’t cover up, kept talking: “Your Adam’s apple moves so hard when you drink, I can never get the Adam’s apple right on male characters, next time I’ll draw it off you.”
“Draw whatever you want.” I crushed the empty bottle and tossed it into the open trash box.
【Lu Yiming · Husband】
The property registry opens at nine. I got there at eight forty. The ticket machine spat out a slip: 87. The screen was calling 41.
I bought a cup of soy milk across the street and sat in the last row of the hall. My phone buzzed. From Sisi: “Take your time, I’ve got this end.”
She wasn’t rushing me. Four years married and she rushes me at everything, rushes me to eat, rushes me to shower, she draws and I play games next to her and she rushes me to go to bed. Today no rushing.
Last week she looked for a moving company, called three, picked this one, reason being “the guy who came to quote talks straight.” The day of the quote she changed into a skirt. She draws at home, there are days she goes three days without changing clothes.
I didn’t ask. That’s the kind of person I am. What I see, I’ve seen. Saying it out loud doesn’t add anything.
When she told me about that mover, she said “Da Zhuang” twice. When she tells me about other guys, it’s “the water-delivery guy,” “the AC repair guy.”
They called 52. I finished the soy milk, crushed the paper cup, didn’t throw it away, kept it in my hand. The gas company was in another building, I still had to go over there after this, any way you count it, it’s the afternoon. I texted her back: “OK.” Normally she complains when I reply “OK,” says it’s like chatting with a robot. Today she sent back a smiley face.
【Hao Sisi · Wife】
Xiao Ma took the bed apart in the bedroom. Screws out one at a time, into a plastic bag, bag knotted, a strip of tape stuck on it with “BED” written on it. His handwriting is nicer than my husband’s. Then he carried the bed boards down one at a time by himself, up and down, up and down, his footsteps in the stairwell going light then heavy, light going down, heavy coming up.
The living room was just me and Da Zhuang.
I crouched to steady a box and the raw edge of the cardboard slid across my index finger, one line, not deep, blood welling up right away. “Fuck.” I said. “Paper’s faster than a knife.”
He didn’t wait for me to find a band-aid. He tore off a strip of tape, pulled my hand over, and wound it twice around my index finger. “Tape stops bleeding. Trade trick.”
His hands were rough. Hard calluses all over the pads of his fingers, an old scar in the web of his thumb, leftover adhesive still stuck to his fingers, tacky, and when it touched the back of my hand it tugged, and the fine hairs on the back of my hand stood up with it.
“Your hands are so rough.” I said. “My husband’s hands are like mine, on a keyboard all day, soft as a woman’s, I don’t mean him, I mean the two of us are the same.” “You mind rough?” “I don’t mind. I’m stating a fact.”
He let go of my hand. The loop of tape on my index finger was yellow, printed with KUAIMA MOVING, once per turn.
“So did you just seal me too.” “Sealed means no touching.” he said. “Says who.” “You. Just now.”
I froze for a second, couldn’t come back with anything. First time since this morning I couldn’t come back with anything.
He turned to carry boxes, a big wet patch on the back of his vest, shoulder blades to waist, stuck to him, two ridges of muscle visible on either side of his spine. My finger throbbed under the tape, throb, throb, and I didn’t know if it was the blood or something else.
By the time the place was empty it was eleven thirty. An empty apartment echoes when you talk. I stood in the middle of the living room and yelled “Hey,” and the echo yelled “Hey” back.
“We lived here four years, that mark on the wall is from my husband’s head, that one fight, he got so mad he head-butted the wall, then said his head hurt, I laughed for half an hour. You married?” “Divorced.” “Oh. So have you ever head-butted a wall?” “No. I butt people.”
“People are better, people don’t hurt.” I said it and then it sounded wrong, so I added, “I mean you don’t hurt.” He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth moved.
“Stop talking.” Da Zhuang said. “Last box.”
The last box was by the bedroom door, open, my pajamas inside, a change of clothes, a towel, the things I’d need tonight. I crouched next to it and pressed the pajamas down a little.
“My mom says when you move, the person is the last piece of luggage.”
He stood in front of me holding the tape gun, waiting for me to move aside. Downstairs Xiao Ma was shutting the truck door, clang.
I didn’t move aside. I took the tape gun out of his hand, then shoved it back into his hand.
“Seal my box first.”