Home Renovation
by Huina Zheng
Setting out
towards our old house with Sheng and Jun today, I think about a proposal from
six months ago. Jun suggested renovating the two-story red brick building with
a courtyard to make it more comfortable for us and to better accommodate Sheng,
who has mobility issues. Honestly, I am not opposed to the idea of living
together again, especially since I was the one who forgave Sheng for leaving us
when Jun was just a child.
The old
house, I note, is completely transformed—the courtyard now boasts artificial
hills, flowing water, and a pond stocked with koi; the ground floor is
primarily occupied by Sheng’s bedroom and shared spaces, while the upper floor
contains bedrooms for Jun and me.
Jun, Sheng,
and the designer thoroughly discussed the details of the renovation, and Jun
hinted that they had prepared a surprise for me. I think maybe they have
finally come to appreciate the sacrifices I’ve made and the effort I’ve put in.
After Sheng left us for another woman, I raised Jun on my own. Two years ago,
the hospital called Jun and told him his father had become paralyzed from the
waist down and needed care. That woman disappeared. Jun, overwhelmed with his
job, placed his father in a nursing home. However, due to Sheng’s frequent
outbursts, Jun was forced to bring him back to our old home. After cycling
through four nurses in just two months due to Sheng’s difficult behavior, I
couldn’t stand by and watch my son struggle with the stress of caring for his
father. So, I took over, sacrificing my freedom and my passion for dance to
provide full-time care. I hope they’ve set aside a large room for me with one
mirrored wall, spacious enough for dancing. I’ve even packed a dance outfit and
shoes in my handbag, ready to revive my long-missed dance routines as soon as I
can. It would truly be a wonderful surprise. It is, after all, my lifelong
passion—I used to dance for hours a day—though I don’t remember the last time I
did it.
I vow to
myself: If they have transformed a room into a dance studio for me, I will stay
and care for Sheng indefinitely. Even if Sheng scolds and curses every day, I will
never leave him. I will remind myself that Jun hopes we could live together as
a family. I will endure his tantrums, like when he throws his plate on the
floor if he dislikes the food, his biting sarcastic remarks, and his
domineering commands. Next year, Jun will marry his girlfriend Lan; we will
live together. I will help take care of our future grandchildren, and I’ll make
pumpkin cakes with them, letting them stand on stools to mash the steamed
pumpkin, and after frying, Sheng will sprinkle sesame seeds on the pumpkin
cakes. We will not remarry, but I will continue to care for him until the end.
We walk
into the old house. The dining room is spacious, furnished with a solid
black-glazed wooden table, adjacent to Sheng’s personal suite, which includes a
lounge area and a card and chess entertainment space. The bathroom is designed with
a lowered washbasin to accommodate Sheng’s needs. At the foot of the stairs
leading to the second floor, there was a Chinese-style villa crafted for the
cat. On the second floor, Jun and Lan’s room features a modern, double-height
design; the lower level is a lounge area, and a few steps up leads to a
spacious, separate office area. Then, I am led to my room—a simple, small space
with just a bed and essential furniture. Jun points to a dance poster hanging
above the bed, telling me this is the surprise they’ve prepared for me. They’ve
also prepared an even bigger “surprise”—a washing and drying machine set up in
the room, for my convenience in continuing the laundry.
I open my
handbag, take out the dance outfit and shoes I’ve prepared, and gaze at them.
Then, I realize I don’t have to keep my vow, feeling an unprecedented sense of
relief.
* * * * *
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