Li Bai's Shadow

Start writing hLi Bai

Being in this world is like a dream,

What’s the point of toiling our life away?

That’s why I’m drunk all day,

Lying flopped by the reception hall from the pillar

I do not dwell on the reasons for my current state as it is too complex for even a genius such as myself to comprehend. It is better to enjoy all of the moments in one’s existence and the little instances like these, oh and a little wine can be very helpful along the way. Perhaps the final lines from my old friend Du Fu’s poem are most appropriate:

Fluttering from place to place

I resemble the seagull between earth and heaven

As the seagull doesn’t question the path it flies, it simply soars above, in the blues of the sky and twirls down below into the depths of the sea, so I have accepted my destiny and here I am, beholding my Caitlin as she glares at me with that slight grin, brushing her brown hair from her pale face, just like she has always done since I arrived in her world, when she was but an infant. I fondly reminisce, being delivered to her like I was a rolled up message wrapped around a pigeons’ leg, miraculously gifted with celestial hearing, I could understand every word her tiny mouth uttered. It was not long before we were dancing around her soft green dwelling, bathing in the bright sun, carefree and joyous. I did enjoy the tea parties with her toys, as I struggled to squeeze into her elaborately decorated doll house and the ghost stories in her little pink hut, where she would shine a light on her face and speak in a deep voice in an effort to sound frightening. But they are all just memories now, fading away into blackness between the stars. Thirteen dull winters have disappeared into that blackness and now we stand together at the edge of a river of change, where the cold wind meets the end of the sky.

You may be wondering why an old poet like myself has been gifted with such an odd but wondrous fortune. Perhaps it is something to do with my timeless contribution as I am the great Li Bai. There is of course no need reiterate my importance as I am the greatest poet who ever lived, praised by the Emperor himself as a genius! If you are poorly informed and lack a proper poetic education then you may have not heard of me. It is as true as the rising and setting of the sun that I am an everlasting poet and have clearly been placed here for a reason. I know not of the reason, but I have lingered here with her all this time, watching her grow into a woman, bearing witness her uniqueness in her habitual counting and repetitive mumbling. Yet her oddities are a part of her and now she distinguishes herself from her school mates, most of whom follow foolish songs of lust and improper pompousness in senseless jingles through their musical devices. She does not concern herself with the major banalities of this modernity and has always embraced my poetry with open arms. She has grown naturally inquisitive and eventually questioned me about my golden wine bottle, however I could not educate her on something I didn’t quite understand myself. That is, until now. I have gradually uncovered the secrets of this spiritual liquor and learned that it must be consumed in very small portions. It is like drinking life itself so one must withstand the temptation to indulge. Caitlin is no longer the giggling infant who loved to pull at my beard and who would climb onto my shoulders and tug my ears. She has blossomed into a rather independent and complex individual and her eagerness to venture out into the wide world has grown. So, as she wishes, I will go with her, into the shadows of these murky lands. Her time has come to drink the blessed wine and experience the rich senses of my homeland.

Caitlin

Stop acting so crazy Caitlin, you have to grow up. Nobody your age acts like this. Stop with this Li Bai nonsense. Crazy, Caitlin. Crazy Caitlin, grow up, grow up. 4534 2343 3402 2320 cv number: 122. 4534 2343 3402 2320 cv number: 122. 4534 2343 3402 2320 cv number: 122. That’s Dad’s credit card number. I memorized it thirteen months and two weeks ago out of boredom. I’m actually going to use it this time. I need to get ready quickly, without a sound and go to the computer room. Log on to the Flight Centre website and book a flight to Shanghai. Write down my flight times and booking number. Log off the computer. Act like everything is normal. I can do that. Then I can see Danny again. I’m eighteen and I can make my own decisions. Besides I won’t be alone, I will have Li Bai. I’m sure he will be a fantastic guide. I’ve finished all my exams, but I have to go behind Dad’s back. I know he won’t let me. He just wants to hide me away because I’m so weird. I’m always talking to myself. So there is nothing to worry about now Dad, I’m going back to China, a place I know you hate.

Plus I can’t forget what Dad said. He shouted, ‘Stop with all that Li Bai nonsense! You’re too old for that. It’s time to act your age.’

I’ll show him how an eighteen year is supposed to act. Eighteen year olds can be independent and they normally leave anyway. He can’t stop me. And as for Li Bai, how can I refuse to see my best friend, a friend who has been with me since I was little, just so I can seem normal? I think I was about five or six when we first met. Dad had bought me this pink plastic toy-house, complete with a square window and a purple door. I used to play in it a lot, just imagining I was Mummy, cooking dinner. I remember playing there on a sunny afternoon when I looked out my little window to find that it was suddenly dark. I was looking at all the shadows on the lawn from the trees. I turned back around and there was Li Bai, squashed into the corner with a big grin on his face.

He might have thought that I was shocked to see him because he said, ‘Do not be afraid young child. I wish you no harm. I am merely lost. Could you please tell me where I am?’

I told him, ‘You’re in my new house. Do you like it?’

Then I remember Li Bai looking around confused. He then smiled and said, ‘It is quite an odd-looking house. Oh, where are my manners. I should introduce myself. I am Li Bai, the great poet.’

He’s been with me ever since, following me around at school and slouching in the corner of my bedroom singing his poems. When I was little, he recited all his poems over and over and I grew to love them. The more I read about him later, the more real he became. I read about all those towns and mountains he visited during the Tang dynasty and the poets like Du Fu and Meng Haoran that he either met or wrote about and he would describe them to me like it was yesterday. Now, I recite his poems to him or join in when he sings them to me. So, my best friend is actually the Li Bai, the classical Chinese poet, born in the year 701 AD, somewhere in Sichuan or Central Asia. He is the poet who wrote the famous Quiet Nights Thought poem that all my cousins in Zhejiang had to memorise in primary school. He is definitely a wine lover too; always going on about some wine he had in some town or city. For the most part, over all this time, he has been sort a great comic relief, especially through Year Eleven and Twelve exams, acting all drunk, flopping over the ground in the library, singing, ‘We must have three thousand cups to start our binge.’

But he never really distracted me too much. I’ve had a lot of help at school with Susan, (I used to call her Miss Windgate but ever since year eleven she let me call her Susan) my teacher’s aide. She sits in with me in class to help me manage my OCD. I’m not sure how severe my OCD is compared to others, but I do know I am a counter. I used to count everything out loud, shouting when I was nervous, but since being with Susan, I’ve learned how to tone it down to a whisper. I count my steps, the seconds, hours and minutes of anything from the time to the end of a class, to the time it takes to go to the toilet. I also repeat things, like my class timetable, important dates and, of course, Li Bai’s poetry. When I say repeat I mean repeat hundreds of times until I start to get a sore throat and can barely breathe, but that hasn’t happened in a while, so I guess I’m getting better. Susan’s exercises have helped me to control it. The deep breaths and trying to think about something else so I’m grateful for Susan and I’m going to miss her when I’m in China.

Li Bai is leaning over the side of my desk as usual, chuckling away again. He shouts, ‘So, you mean we’re going back to my homeland? This is wonderful my young Caitlin. Please don’t tell me we will be staying in Shanghai.’

I reply, ‘Yes, we’re going to Shanghai. I’m not sure if we’re staying. It depends on Danny.’

Li Bai laughs and says, ‘So, you are blindly following this young man to China for love?’

I tell him, ‘I’m not sure it’s love, Li Bai. We’ll see what happens. It sounds so simple when you put it that way.’

I’m whispering: 4534 2343 3402 2320 cv number: 122. I log on to the Flight Centre website and find the flight to Shanghai. I click the ‘one way’ icon. 4534 2343 3402 2320 cv number: 122. I enter the numbers. I click ‘finalise purchase’. I read the itinerary. The flight is booked. I print the itinerary and read the date and time over and over again.

Departing Sydney Airport, November 28th, 6:30 am

Arriving Shanghai Pudong Airport, November 28th, 7:00 pm

I tuck the printout into my bag and leave the computer rooms with Li Bai dawdling behind me. I take fifty-seven steps down the hallway, up the stairs and into my English room. Susan is there, twisting her curls in her fingers. She looks up and me and smiles. I nod and take out my notebook, making sure to keep the print-out of the flight to Shanghai unseen. This is so exciting, holding this secret with me. I barely notice Susan sitting beside me. She has no idea what is making me so happy. I have to act normal but I start whispering the departure and arrival times.

Susan asks me what I’m whispering.

I tell her, ‘Susan, there are fifty four minutes left until the end of my last class ever.’

She smiles and the space between her eyes wrinkles up, ‘Yes, I know. It’s so exciting!’

She squeezes my shoulders. It is exciting, High school is finally over and I’m free.

Li Bai is dancing around, waving his cloak and singing, ‘If heaven didn’t love wine there would be no wine star up in the sky. If Earth didn’t love wine there’d surely be no wine spring earth. Since Heaven and Earth both love wine, there is no disgrace for lovers of wine in Heaven!’

That golden bottle of his is tucked into his cloak. He doesn’t drink it very often but I wonder what it tastes like. He definitely seems a lot livelier after taking a sip. I guess now that I’m eighteen he might finally let me have some.

Li Bai

My Caitlin is not her typical methodical self. She puts on a mask of confidence and good will and speaks of her new-found love with vitality and hope. However, as I watch her tears dry on her cheeks as she drifts off to sleep, I know she dwells on darker thoughts just like the trembling petals of the water lilies as the wind murmurs through.

Even as she whispers the oddly translated lines of my poem, Face Wine, ‘The slender woman from Wu only fifteen, with indigo eyebrows and scarlet boots, on horseback sings along the road, of a drunken man under lotus cover,’ there is sorrow in her eyes.

I’m slouching, resting my heavy head on the corner of her desk, recalling the sounds of the river; the light splash hitting the boat below calms my senses. The last gulps of wine are now fading away and I finally feel at ease and weightless. However, my poor Caitlin is not as fortunate as me. I’m relieved she has finished her studies at that strange educational institution filled with frightfully noisy young men and women. This week, a shadow looms over her as she dwells on father’s harsh remarks.

He shouted at her, ‘Stop being crazy. Stop with this Li Bai thing already. You are eighteen.’

As I have long grown accustomed to him overlooking me and disregarding my work, I didn’t bother to protest, but it was my dear Caitlin’s reaction, that was most heart breaking. She froze, her wide eyes already showing the shock and hurt from his comments. Then when he tried to apologize, she seemed to turn to stone, morphing into an emotionless statue, oblivious to his words. Following this, she spent the afternoon reading my poetry, not saying a word. This was most frightening as she usually repeats it out loud.

In the evening she suddenly proclaimed, ’I’m going to see Danny in Shanghai.’

This is quite surprising; despite her clear love for the young man she calls Danny as I know her now to be a young woman comfortable in her daily routines. She rises every morning, chanting the times, dates and days, keeping to her orderly nature, counting away as she does, in her unique manner. Yet now, she is beaming with hope as she anticipates her reunion with the young man. Though this may very well end in further sorrow, I will not be the one to stand in her way. I have been with her since she was an infant and here she is, a young woman on the verge of a new discovery. Therefore, she has both my blessing and my company.

Steven

Listening to Tupac on the toilet at work is becoming a regular thing for me now. I just hide here and hum away, trying to forget for a second that I am single Dad with a teenaged daughter. Doing all the usual Daddy crap normally goes unrewarded. All the special things are just a waste of time. I’m no Father of the Year candidate by any means, but I have double the responsibilities because her mum’s not around anymore, plus there is the whole OCD thing. On Caitlin’s eighteenth birthday, I took her to Pizza Hut and got the staff to surprise her with a birthday cake. She smiled under the sparkling candles and started whispering again, counting the candles that I made sure there were eighteen because of how she is, but it didn’t matter, she still kept whispering from one to eighteen, even after I cut her slice and handed it right to her. Then she got louder, which hasn’t happened in a while and people were looking around at us, trying not to freak out. Then she knocked over her glass of Pepsi so I had to get her out of there. In the car, she calmed down but was still whispering one to eighteen all the way home.

That night I called Susan to tell her about it and she said, ‘Well, you can’t surprise her like that. She has her routines you know. You have to plan everything with her weeks ahead so she can prepare for it.’

Susan is right, it was a stupid thing to do. Surprise birthday parties just don’t work for kids with OCD so I have to remember that for next year. I know she might be in university then and Susan is pressuring me to make some changes but how can she make it out there on her own if a simple thing like birthday candles sets her off? No, I’ve decided she is staying with me for the next few years. She can study online, where I can keep an eye on her because she’s obviously not ready for all that independent stuff that Susan is always going on about. The only time I can relax is when she’s asleep and sometimes I peek in and watch her. She’s still my little girl with her eyes closed, breathing slowly with her pillow tucked under chin. Though sometimes, when she leaves her curtain open and the streetlight is shining down on her face from outside, she looks just like her Mum and I can’t look at her anymore.

Susan

It’s the same people on the train again, heading home after work. There is the bald man in the suit, who normally reads a newspaper, the old woman with those black thick rimmed glasses on and that skinny Filipino woman who always wears mini-skirts. I guess everyone is just accepting into their comfortable gender roles.

The old lady gives me the usual grin and says, ‘Hi, love.’

The other regulars are silent, checking their phones or gazing blankly out the window. I have my laptop open as I do every day, researching something on OCD, or something related to gender studies. All of this is normal but I feel so different because my work with Caitlin is ending. I check my phone every couple of seconds to see if I’ve missed a call. That’s a common behaviour of an OCD sufferer, but it’s also common among the rest of the phone obsessed population. Why can’t I stop tapping my toes?

The Filipino woman taps me on the shoulder and says, ‘Hey, didn’t you just miss your stop?’

I look up to see the Riverwood station sign blur by. I stand and smile awkwardly at her, nodding. She is wearing that tiny denim skirt this time and I notice the bluebird tattoo on her coffee brown leg. I’m pretty sure that this is the first time she has ever talked to me. I have been taking this train for six years back home from central and we haven’t said a single word to each other. I wait for the next stop and she is looking at me, grinning, brushing her short black hair away from her face. I feel my phone vibrate and pick it up. It’s Terry.

He says, ‘Hey, really sorry, I’m going out with the boys tonight. Max just finished uni, are you cool with that?’

Yes, of course I am cool with that but it’s strange for him to call me like this. Normally when he goes to the pub after work he gets home at about ten and doesn’t even bother with an excuse. I’m not sure why this is bothering me so much now as I’m normally totally fine with it. I slide my laptop into my bag and step off the train onto Holsworthy platform. My phone starts vibrating again. This time it’s Steven.

He asks, ‘Hey, Susan, sorry to bother you. Any news on the universities?’

This is strange too as Steven has been reluctant to discuss where Caitlin might be studying next year. I’ve been suggesting universities all over the country since the beginning of last year and he has basically shown little interest in any of them. I assume he wants her close by and he normally says she is too young or she should study online. But anyway, I haven’t heard back from all the universities that she applied for on early entry.

So, I tell him, ‘No, nothing yet. We will be able to apply with her UAI score in about six weeks. I’m sure she has done well. She put in the work.’

He replies, ’Yes, you’re probably right. It’s come up so fast hasn’t it?’

His voice sounds a little shaky. He must be really worried. He’s been gradually getting tenser about this all year. He really needs to let the protective father thing go. Caitlin needs to go out and make her own mistakes.

I tell him, ‘Well, I have to go. I just missed my station.’

He says, ‘Oh, really? OK, talk to you soon.’

A train slowly approaches and I get on thinking about Caitlin. This train is pretty empty, but there are two girls in the Riverwood high school jacket and skirt uniform, twiddling their fingers on their phone, in front of me. One of them looks up at me and smiles. She has eyeliner on and has twisted her blonde hair in a neat pony tail. She could be a top student, I have no idea but the smell of vodka is coming off her blazer tells me she is not likely to make wise decisions. I look down at my phone and see that I have a calendar reminder. I open it up and it says END OF HSC EXAMS. I didn’t need a reminder for it as there is no way I would forget the last day I’m with Caitlin.

I hear the announcer say, ‘Stand clear, doors closing.’

I see the two Riverwood High girls walking off, passing the Riverwood station sign. I have missed my station again.