A Good Fall by Ha Jin Page A

lunch for him early in the morning. These days, however, she’d leave the moment she finished breakfast and wouldn’t return until evening. Both of them had agreed that she should avoid staying home alone with his mother, who lectured her at every possible opportunity.
    Around six thirty his wife came home. She hung her parka in the closet and, stepping into the kitchen, said to Tian, “Can I help?”
    “I’m almost done.”
    She kissed his nape and whispered, “Thanks for doing this.” Then she took some plates and bowls out of the cupboard and carried them to the dining table. She glanced into the living room, where Meifen, her mother-in-law, lounged on a sofa, smoking a cigarette and watching the news aired by New Tang Dynasty TV, a remote control in her leathery hand. Connie and Tian had told her many times not to smoke in the house, but the old woman ignored them. They dared not confront her. This was just her second week here. Imagine, she was going to stay half a year!
    “Mother, come and eat,” Connie said pleasantly when the table was set.
    “Sure.” Meifen clicked off the TV, got to her feet, and scraped out her cigarette in a saucer serving as an ashtray.
    The family sat down to dinner. The two women seldom spoke to each other at the table, so it was up to Tian to make conversation. He mentioned that people in his company had been talking about layoffs. That didn’t interest his mother and his wife; probably they both believed his job was secure because of his degree in accounting.
    His mother grunted, “I don’t like this fish. Flavorless, like egg white.” She often complained that nothing here tasted right.
    “It takes a while to get used to American food,” Tian told her. “When I came, I couldn’t eat vegetables in the first week, so I ate mainly bananas and oranges.” That was long ago, twelve years exactly.
    “True,” Connie agreed. “I remember how rubbery bell peppers tasted to me in the beginning. I was amazed—”
    “I mean this fish needs soy sauce, and so does the soup,” Meifen interrupted.
    “Mom, Connie’s allergic to that. I told you.”
    “Just spoiled,” Meifen muttered. “You have a bottle of Golden Orchid soy sauce in the cabinet. That’s a brand-name product, and I can’t see how on earth it can hurt anyone’s health.”
    Connie’s egg-shaped face fell, her eyes glaring at the old woman and then at Tian. He said, “Mom, you don’t understand. Connie has a medical condition that—”
    “Of course I know. I used to teach chemistry in a middle school. Don’t treat me like an ignorant crone. Ours is an intellectual family.”
    “You’re talking like an old fogey again. In America people don’t think much of an intellectual family, and most kids here can go to college if they want to.”
    “She’s hinting at my family,” Connie broke in, and turned to face her mother-in-law. “True enough, neither of my parents went to college, but they’re honest and hardworking. I’m proud of them.”
    “That explains why you’re such an irresponsible wife,” Meifen said matter-of-factly.
    “Do you imply I’m not good enough for your son?”
    “Please, let’s have a peaceful dinner,” Tian pleaded.
    Meifen went on speaking to Connie. “So far you’ve been awful. I don’t know how your parents raised you. Maybe they were too lazy or too ignorant to teach you anything.”
    “Watch it—you mustn’t bad-mouth my parents!”
    “I can say whatever I want to in my son’s home. You married Tian but refuse to give him children, won’t cook or do household work. What kind of wife are you? Worse yet, you even make him do your laundry.”
    “Mom,” Tian said again, “I told you we’ll have kids after Connie gets her degree.”
    “Believe me, she’ll never finish school. She just wants to use you, giving you one excuse after another.”
    “I can’t take this anymore.” Connie stood and carried her bowl of soup upstairs to the master bedroom.
    Tian