At the End of That Road, He Was Still Seventeen

Two days ago, I returned to my rural hometown. The house we built when we were newly married is now falling apart. The paint is peeling from the walls, moisture has spread mold everywhere, and everything looks worn and abandoned. Years ago my family moved away and no one lives there anymore. The house stands empty, barely holding its shape.

My husband and I walked along the narrow ridge between the wheat fields. I was wearing a dress, and at this time of year the wheat heads hang low and full. The sharp awns brushed against my legs as we walked. When he noticed, he kept reaching out with his hand to block them for me.

We went to the elementary school we once attended. It used to be called Hope Primary School, but now it’s called Jianye Primary School. We still walked the same old road. That was the road I took when I went to his house for New Year visits as a child, the road he walked when he came to find me for school, the road I secretly walked to meet him for our hidden teenage dates, and later the road his parents walked when they came to my home to ask for my hand in marriage.

Later we struggled through life together, growing from small-town exam kids into people with a modest fortune. In the hardest years we were cheated by others and had almost nothing. The windows of the rental apartment we lived in wouldn’t close properly. During typhoons the wind and rain poured inside and the whole room turned into a pool. In winter the wind cut through the cracks. When it was coldest we couldn’t bear to turn on the heater, so we slept on a narrow single bed and held each other tightly for warmth. At night, as long as one of us spoke, we could talk until midnight.

Back then it was the deepest kind of love. The kind where you would buy a small bag of roasted chestnuts for ten yuan and still wait for the other person to eat first before you touched one. Those hardest years were also the years we loved each other the most.

At the beginning I worked in his company, doing the accounting, working as a secretary, handling purchasing, reception, and logistics—whatever needed to be done. He worked hard too. The company grew bigger and bigger. As he became stronger his temper actually softened. When conflicts happened he rarely argued with me the way he used to. Instead he would silently grab his keys and leave with a dark face. I understood what he meant: if this place didn’t keep him, there would always be somewhere else.

He bought me a house, and the cars he drove became more and more expensive. Occasionally I would visit the company and someone would receive me politely. His chief secretary was always courteous and attentive. Sometimes that reminded me of the first year when he closed a big deal and rushed back to tell me excitedly, “Wife, I did it.”

I immediately stood up and joked, “Hello, President Lin.” In that tiny company with only the two of us, we laughed until we cried.

Later he had more and more business dinners. At first he brought me along, but later he said he was afraid I would be too tired. Someone told me he had hired a beautiful secretary. At that time I was pregnant. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with it. He said the company really needed someone like that, and added that after so many years together, didn’t I know where his heart was. I chose to believe him.

Later I met the secretary once. She came to my daughter’s one-month celebration with a gift. Very naturally she reached out and straightened the crooked boutonniere on my husband’s suit.

I know nothing happened between them. At least not at that time. I have shares in the company and receive money without doing anything, holding only a nominal position. I can go to the company whenever I want. I have people there who tell me things, and he knows that. No one ever reported that he had done anything wrong. But I knew. I knew everything.

One night when our daughter was a little over one year old she had a fever. He rushed to the hospital to meet us, but his shirt buttons were misaligned. He is a very meticulous man and would never dress like that unless something unexpected had happened. What situation would make someone hurriedly put on a shirt again in the middle of the night?

I asked him to replace the secretary. He did it immediately. She was replaced in the company, but not in our bed.

I asked for a divorce. He didn’t agree, and as time dragged on the feelings between us slowly disappeared.

He said, “What more do you want? You understand the accounts. All my money is with you.”

I said he knew what I wanted. He said women are always sentimental, that men putting on a show outside is normal, and that all the bosses around him were the same and their families were still fine. I told him we were different.

In the end no one could persuade either of us. He insisted we shouldn’t file for divorce and instead accompanied me back to my hometown. On that same road, as we walked, he suddenly said he finally understood what I wanted. He said he was sorry. His voice sounded hoarse. He said it was his fault and reached out to hold my hand.

But I quickly walked a few steps ahead. Just a little further and we would pass the small hill. When we were young I used to sneak out from home to meet him, climbing over that hill. On the other side, seventeen-year-old him would always be there, smiling as he waited for me.

And this time, when I saw him again in my memory, he looked at me and said, “Don’t forgive him.”