Chapter 65
Two Sides of a Coin
The next morning Eren went back to the hospital.
The two pouches had stayed against him since he'd settled with the man in black last night, tapping his ribs through the cloth when he walked. He hadn't given the money to anyone. He hadn't gone back to say a word. When it got light he washed his face, changed his coat, and headed over.
The same medicine smell at the door. The corridor was crowded. A stretcher went past him, wheels hitting the potholes, one knock after another.
He didn't go upstairs first. He turned to the payment window.
The clerk behind it was turning a ledger. When he gave Meng Xiangyang's name she looked up.
"Family?"
"Friend," Eren said. "Here to settle what's owed."
She flipped a few pages, stopped on a line, and checked it against the receipt record beside it.
"No need."
Eren's hand was already inside his coat. He stopped.
She thought he hadn't heard. "Meng Xiangyang's balance is already clear."
Eren looked at her.
"Clear?"
She didn't answer. She only turned the page so he could see. Black writing under a red stamp.
Eren's brow drew tight. He didn't ask again. He took his hand out, buttoned the coat, and went upstairs.
The ward door stood half open. Quieter in there than the hall. A cough from the next bed. An enamel cup hung on the curtain edge, a little cold water left in the bottom.
Meng Xiangyang sat against the head of the bed, an old quilt rolled behind him. He had gone thinner. His cheeks had sunk. The blanket covered his legs. Meng Shoucheng sat on the low stool, peeling fruit. When Eren came in the knife paused.
"Eren." Shoucheng stood. "You came."
Xiangyang tried to sit straighter. The color went out of his face at once. Eren put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't move."
Eren didn't ask about the injury first. He only said to Shoucheng, "Step out a minute."
Shoucheng seemed to know what he wanted. He followed him past the curtain. They stood just off the door, a few steps from the bed.
Eren went straight at it.
"How'd the hospital bill get cleared?"
"The work-injury advance came through," Shoucheng said.
"What happened? You sign?"
Shoucheng's lips moved. He didn't answer at once.
"Cousin didn't sign it." Xiangyang's voice came from the bed.
They both turned.
Xiangyang was against the pillow, no color in his face.
"I did."
The room went still.
The cough from the next bed stopped. The curtain swayed. Shoucheng stood where he was, started to speak, and Xiangyang cut him off.
Xiangyang looked at Eren. "When the foreman came yesterday, Cousin wasn't here."
Eren went back to the bed.
"I heard what you said outside last time," Xiangyang said.
"And you still signed?"
"What else? Hospital hounds us every day. You, Sister Lila, the others—you've already put a lot down. You've done enough looking after me. I don't want you worrying about money on top of it."
He didn't rush it. He stopped every few lines to get a breath.
"I know you mean well," he said. "But I'm lying here. Legs don't listen. I can't do a damn thing. And I still make you go around asking people, borrowing, finding a way. I heard Cousin talking low to the nurse. I heard you say you'd find the money."
"You put your name on this, after that…" Eren said.
"Brother Eren, I know. Whatever comes of it, I'll take it. I just don't want you all dragged by me anymore."
Eren didn't have an answer.
Shoucheng pulled last time's papers from inside his coat.
"I only found out when I got back. I put that copy away. Who'd think the foreman would bring another one and call it the latest."
Eren listened and dropped his head. A bitter line sat at his mouth.
The pouches were right there in his coat. He'd risked stealing the load to turn it into money. It sat wrong in him, and worse with Red Tea and the people on the crew. At the ward door, none of that meant a thing.
He pulled the coat open, lifted the two pouches out, and set them down hard on the little cabinet by the bed.
"I went and found the money," he said. "I found it."
The pouches hit the wood dull. Shoucheng and Xiangyang both looked at the bag.
"I told you not to sign yet because the money could be put together. That name shouldn't have gone on the paper. Once it's on, you can't talk your way out."
Xiangyang's eyes caught for a second.
"Eren, easy. The name's already there," Shoucheng said. "And the foreman said it won't touch the compensation later."
"He says it and you take it?"
Once it was out the ward went still again.
Eren knew that one had come out wrong. He shut his eyes a moment, took his hand off the pouches, fingers loosening one joint at a time.
Xiangyang didn't argue. He only said, "I don't buy all of it. But at least we get through right now."
Shoucheng picked it up. "That's right, Brother Eren. You said it too. Getting him healed up is what matters. The rest we can figure later."
Eren's chest rose once. He swallowed what he'd been about to say.
He tied one pouch shut and pushed it at Shoucheng.
"You take this."
Shoucheng pushed it back, voice firm. "No."
"Take it."
"What you and Lila put down first, we ought to pay that back anyway." Shoucheng's voice jumped. "The advance is in. Money isn't the pinch now. We can't take more of yours."
"That wasn't a loan," Eren said.
"How wasn't it? Hospital receipts are still here. I've been keeping count too."
Eren only waved it off. He pinched a small handful of Crystone coins from the open pouch on the table and pushed the rest back with the first one.
Shoucheng looked down at the pouch. "This is too much. Where'd you get it?"
"Don't let the medicine run out. Don't let them take the bed back. Need someone watching him, hire them. Don't carry all of it yourselves," Eren said. "Use this for now."
He buttoned the coat and turned for the door.
By evening, when he got back to the rented room, Lila was already there.
She hadn't gone to the hospital today. She'd only just come in from the plant. Nova sat at the table with school papers spread in front of him, the writing neat and even.
Warmed flatbread sat on the table, half a pot of bean soup, a small dish of pickles.
Eren hung his coat on the chair and washed his hands at the basin first.
Lila spoke first. "How was the hospital?"
Eren sat.
"Bill's clear."
Her hand on the ladle paused. "How?"
"Advance landed," Eren said. "Little Meng signed."
The room went quiet a beat.
Lila gave a small nod.
"Just as well he signed."
About ten days later, the doctor finally let Meng Xiangyang out.
It wasn't dark yet when they reached Shoucheng's place. The house sat on the back street outside the yard. Two old crates by the door, washed cloth strips and a gray-green short jacket drying on them. The room had been narrow to start. Once the wood wheelchair was in, the gap between bed, table, and stove was barely enough to turn sideways.
Xiangyang sat in the chair, something padded at his back. The doctor had said to be careful at home too—no knocks, no cold, no sitting too long, move a little.
His legs were under the blanket. The chair jolted on the threshold. Still no answer from them.
Shoucheng put the medicine packet in the cupboard and weighted a sheaf of papers under an enamel cup. Lila bent and shifted the wood basin to give the chair room to turn. Eren didn't say much. He only stepped on a board that had lifted by the bed, to be sure it wouldn't catch a wheel.
"When you're at work, can Little Meng manage alone?" Lila asked.
Shoucheng shut the cupboard and pointed at the bed. "I put a rail by the bed. Talked to the auntie next door too. He needs something, he calls."
Xiangyang smiled, shallower than before.
"Don't keep watching me. Upper half still works. I can move."
He reached for the kettle at the table. It wasn't far, but the chair had caught on the bed leg, and his fingers missed by a stretch. He stopped, like he'd only then remembered the legs wouldn't give him anything.
Eren brought the kettle over and set it by his hand.
"Money still enough?"
Xiangyang looked at the kettle. After a half-beat he said, "Don't worry. We're not short."
Shoucheng jumped in. "Really not. What you left last time hasn't even been touched."
Lila heard that and glanced at Eren. She didn't ask.
"Good you're back. Home's bound to be easier than the hospital."
Xiangyang looked around the room and smiled. "Yeah. Hospital, you never feel free."
"Want someone to send word home? Or bring his folks over. They could lend a hand," Eren said.
Xiangyang's face closed. "Don't."
He looked up. "I haven't told them."
"A thing this size. How long can you keep it?"
"Keep it for now," Xiangyang said. "Ma and Da aren't well, and the road's far. Them coming wouldn't help much. They'd only worry more."
Shoucheng rubbed his palm. "That's what I think too. Wait till he's a little further along. Tell them now, the old folks come all that way—something happens on the road, then what?"
Lila nodded. "Yeah."
Evening light cut in through the small window and fell on the wood rim of the wheelchair, a faint burr still on the edge. Xiangyang set his hand on it and rubbed once, slow, like he was getting used to the thing he wouldn't get free of.
In the rented room Lila and Eren still weren't back. Only Nova.
Bread was already on the table. A bowl of stew was still steaming. He broke the bread, soaked it in the soup, and ate it wet.
When he was done he took the bowl to the basin, rinsed it twice, set it upside down on the board, and wiped the table with the rag.
After that the room went quiet.
Now and then someone passed outside, steps coming from down the way and going on down the stairs. A child cried next door a while and was hushed. Nova sat back at the table, spread the school pages, and set the dip pen at his right hand.
He went through the drill sheets fast, muttering as he wrote.
"Take care of public property. Check.
In the park, take care of the flowers. Check.
On the bus, give your seat to old people. Check."
"What's a bus?" Nova wrinkled his nose. "People just walk, don't they?"
"And follow the town laws. Check." He put the pen down and snorted. "Too easy. Why's it this again."
He stacked the pages neat and weighted them under the old cup Lila had left. The lamp caught the edge, a few thin sheets bent under the cup. Nova sat a while, heard his stomach, remembered stew still on the spoon, scraped a bite into his mouth, and rinsed the spoon and bowl again.
It was full dark. Eren and Lila still weren't back. He had some number work left, but he didn't want to turn another page, and he didn't want the window. He dug the old phone out of his pocket and turned it in his hands.
The black shell lay in his palm, dead the way it always was. A ring of Crystone grain ran the edge. It felt a little thicker than last time.
Nova put it to his ear.
"Hello?"
Eren and Lila had shown him how people used to call.
No sound in the old phone, of course. Nova smiled and turned the shell over. Then he picked up the dip pen from the corner of the table and set the point in the seam, and pried, light.
It didn't open.
But at the movement a very short sound came from inside, and the black screen flashed—like static—and went dark again.
Nova sat there, the pen still in his hand. He didn't know what that meant. Could the phone still work?
He'd barely started on it again when familiar steps came outside, then the key on the door ring.
He didn't have time to think. He grabbed the old shell and stuffed it back in his pocket.