The Garlic Ballads

Mustering all her strength, Jinju staggered to her feet. The cold autumn-night air had chilled her to the bone, numbing her limbs with the dampness of the ground. She was suddenly reminded of something her mother had told her: sleeping on damp ground in misty night air is an open invitation to leprosy. Mother’s face flashed before her eyes, giving rise to remorse: no heated kang to sleep on, no scurrying mice in the rafters, no crickets chirping in the corner of the wall, and none of Elder Brother’s talking in his sleep or Second Brother’s snores in the next room. She stood as if her body had ceased to function, her thoughts fixated on her cozy, smoky kang. Frightened by thoughts of the night around her and of the day to come, she suddenly saw herself as absurd and Gao Ma as loathsome.

Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and now stars shimmered brighdy, some of the light turning pale green as it reflected off of the jute leaves and stalks. She looked at Gao Ma, who was sitting up only three paces away, his hands clasped around his knees to pillow his head. He neither moved nor made a sound, like a figure carved of stone. At that moment they were separated by an immense gulf, and she felt alone as, one by one, the green eyes around drew nearer and nearer, and the crisp tramping of dry leaves by tiny paws rattled in her ears. Behind her lay a blanket of cold air, as icy snouts nuzzled the nape of her neck. A scream tore from her throat — she couldn’t help herself.

Gao Ma leapt to his feet and ran in a circle; the jute crackled like burning oil, and a line of little green lights flew around him like a spinning hoop. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

This was a man, not a cold, dark rock on a reef, and his panic snapped her out of her imaginings. Waves of cold air behind her drove her into his arms; into the heat from his body

“Elder Brother Gao Ma, I’m scared, and I’m cold….”

“Don’t be scared, Jinju, I’m right here.”

He held her tightly, and the strength of his arms rekindled long-dormant memories. Only months before he had held me like this and pressed his bristly mouth against mine. But now she had neither the will nor the strength to answer the call of his burning lips, which reeked of moldy garlic.

She twisted her stiff neck around and hugged him tightly. “I’m cold … numb all over.…”

Gao Ma loosened his grip, and her knees buckled. He picked up her coat from where she had lain, and as he shook it out, green flashes spilled into the surrounding jute, swelling and shrinking, brightening and fading.

Gao Ma draped the coat over her shoulders. Made heavy by the wet night air, it gave off the rank odor of a foul dogskin. He laid her down on the ground to massage her limbs with his callused hands. Each finger and toe, every muscle and tendon was rubbed and massaged, her joints pinched and prodded. Electric currents spread from each spot his hands touched. A warmth flowed from her feet to her head and back down to her feet. Closing her eyes to mere slits, she reached out to catch the green sparkles that floated about his naked back, which was thin and bony. But what she found most enticing were his dark, pea-sized, manly nipples, which she suddenly felt compelled to pinch.

Sometimes he kneaded her muscles with strong pressure, sometimes his hand barely brushed her skin; sometimes he pinched her joints hard, and sometimes he scarcely prodded them. Her breathing grew heavier, her heart began to race, and she purged her mind of things she had been thinking about only a moment earlier. His body felt cold and damp next to her heat. His breath came in chilled puffs, now with a slight minty odor. She was tense with anticipation.

As his fingers peeled away her skin, she reacted with a mixture of fear and curiosity, raising her arms as if wanting to protect something. But his rough hands were now caressing her breasts, sending shivers up her spine and pulling her skin taut, as jolts of electricity coursed through her body.

All around him green dots flickered; they stuck to the jute bushes, they danced, they flew, they described wobbly, dense, lovely arcs…. He was nearly encased in those green sparkles, which showed up even on his teeth.

She heard herself moan.

So many green sparkles, so many fireflies. They sizzled as they flew through the air. She arched her spine, grabbing at his back as if she were snaring the sparkles fighting on him. “They’re not green all the time. Watch them change color: now they’re a deep scarlet… now green … now scarlet … green again … and finally a shimmering blanket of gold….”

They didn’t wake up until the dark few moments before dawn. Only nesded in his arms did she feel real; as soon as she left his embrace, everything had form, but no substance.

“You must be exhausted, Elder Brother. Are you feeling all right?”

His mouth was next to her ear, into which he breathed puffs of minty air.