Fishing Dreams

Every week, my mother e-mails me a well-intended Bible verse that often ends with a tone designed to elicit some sort of post-apocalyptic fear. Away from sexual adultery and orgies.

Sometimes I respond. Thanks mom, love you too. But I usually don’t and sometimes try to clear my mind by sitting with Alexander and his wife. They like to practice English and I like their company. So I usually walk into the apartment, quietly pull up a chair and try to decipher whatever Chinese soap opera they happen to be watching.

But today, I give up earlier than usual and walk into the kitchen to find a massive fish flopping in between the ceramic tiles. I panic. This whole episode hammers me with flashbacks from a traumatic dream I had as a child. But unlike the dream, the fish isn’t screaming and I’m able to pull myself together to put it into a nearby basin. Noticing my fit of hysteria (think manly bellows instead of schoolgirl screaming), Shanshan runs in and laughs at me as if this is funny.

She grabs my hand and leads me to the variety of fishing rods and types of bait and explains in detail her hobby of murdering fishing. I muster up the courage and naively ask her how she is planning on killing these fish. With a disturbing grin, she pulls out a knife and explains that in China, a good wife should know how to kill a lot of things. I politely laugh but wonder if she’s talking about every man’s dreams and goals.

When the commotion is over, I retrace my steps out of the kitchen and sink into my seat back to the Chinese soap opera. Alexander is tapping a paper fan on his lap while providing a streaming commentary for every scene.

I do not know if these two hold hands anymore. Or what kind of display of affection is possible between them at such an old age. But whenever a male and female character share a dialogue, Alexander serenely leans forward, eyes slightly glazed, and listens with his jaw slightly open. When the scene ends, he smiles at his wife and his laughter pushes him into the back of his seat.