By Ning Liu
Fall 2012 Kaplan Award Winner
“Household Register is the register brochure that keeps record of members of a household including their names, native places, birthdates, address; and has the legal power to certify citizens’ identity status and family members’ mutual relations.”
—The Ministry of Public Security of P.R.C
My phone showed 11 missed calls when I woke up in bed on a sunny afternoon in late August. It was my father, I called back with a bad feeling about things. “Your aunt wants a divorce from me.”, said my father with a low voice. “My aunt”, that’s what I call the person I am supposed to call “stepmother.” I have my mother and I don’t need another, even though there is a “step” before “mother”. She was Okay but I just didn’t like her. I guess this kind of dislike comes natural to most sons and daughters in a similar situation to mine.I was legally under my father’s custody but I personally decided to live with mom because I could no longer feel the liberty and the pleasantness I used to have with him before my aunt came into his life. It wasn’t his problem: one just simply can’t make everyone happy.
Upon hearing the news, I ought to have been relieved. After all it was my father who had been paying most of my tuition. She was never happy about it, although she never expressed her dissatisfaction, at least not to me. I was superficially polite to her and she was the same to me. I was good at hiding my feelings because aggression was the last thing I wanted to see, forever.
Anyhow, money was not what they fought over this time. It was the Household Register. Why would I care? Oh yes I would because it was in my mother’s possession, and she would not give it up.
My parents really picked a “good” time to get divorced, a time when I was neither too innocent to understand what was going on, nor was I so strong that I could just live with what was going on. I was 14. And I was affected so much that I played truant for over a month and lost myself in another reality: World of Warcraft. Marriages, even if they have to be put to an end, are expected to end harmoniously. I didn’t have the privilege to see them become friends after their divorce. You know, like sitting down together and discussing what’s best for me. All there was left was rancor between them, an unrepairable divide.
My father and his wife needed the Household Register to sign a contract for purchasing an apartment property and to apply for permission to give birth, which my mother would never want to happen. My mother could turn very paranoid and angry when things about my father were brought up. Even the slightest mention of my father was an absolute taboo in our conversation. I had dropped the childish thought of bringing them back together a very long time ago. I just prayed that their lives had no intersections because it just messed with my life. But that kind of prayer turned out even more childish because I was their intersection. And I always will be!
“What for?”, you may ask. The conflict even after their divorce was about taking back their lost pride in that unsuccessful marriage. Well, let me put it in a simple way. Eventually, this war for pride was after all a war for money. My mother thought that giving my father and his wife the Household Register and letting them buy the house and breed their child equated to giving them 1000 reasons to not spend money on me. A very evil thought but it’s true. Mom was so hurt with that marriage and so mad at my dad that I couldn’t debate this issue with her because that would hurt her even more. My mother would listen to me in everything else but she would not compromise on this matter. No matter how reluctant I was, I just had to comply with her will.
Through the window I saw Dad standing on the street before my mom’s house, looking pale and exhausted. My father had requested the Household Register several times already. I promised him I would help him get it in my own way: to reason with my mom. And mom said it was out of the question no matter what. Thus every time dad called me on the phone, I stalled and told him to give me more time. I guess this time, he ran out of patience, or rather my aunt lost her patience.
The reason that my father and my mother couldn’t have separate household registers after the divorce was because my father didn’t own a house. A household register stays with the house. Only after he purchased an apartment could he have one and that could take months. But before that, he would need the available one to sign the contract for the apartment. I could have hated mom for making things difficult for Dad, and for me. But I also know that she remained single to provide what my Dad failed to provide: home,a place where I wouldn’t have to say something with courtesy. Thus I suspended that ungrateful thought immediately.
I walked to dad and saw some scratches on his neck. God, why is he obsessed with violent women all the time? “She hit you?” I asked. Dad nodded. “Did you hit back?”, I asked like I really gave a damn. “No, I wouldn’t do that.” Dad explained. So much for the greeting between father and son. What happened next is that dad reviewed two options with me:
- I continue to comply with my mom’s will. Then dad gets divorced again, becomes unhappy and grandpa sheds tears.
- I walk upstairs and get the register for dad, upset my mom and she loses her temper.
“I don’t want to break her heart,” I said in a low voice. “Would you break mine?” Dad asked.
“She is a woman and alone after all. As a man, you can bear more.”
“I don’t owe her, not since we separated. Plus I have compromised so much: I gave up the house to her; I paid your tuition; and you decided to live with her and I didn’t say a word about it. All of this I can live with, but she cannot take control of my life just because she hates me. What’s past is past and now we each have to move on and live our own lives. There is no way she can interfere with mine!”
Well, what could I say? That just shut me up. At least one thing my mom and dad have in common is that they are both good at shuting me up with their seemingly fair enough reasons. I guess I’m just too kind to be an arguer. But I have to admit that I was not an unbiased son: I showed more concern to my mom than my dad because my mom was the more vulnerable, although she always tried to appear strong and independent. I shouldn’t have ignored dad’s feelings. He too wasn’t as strong as he seemed. Neither was I. None of us were.
“If you don’t help me this time, I will do it my way. You’ll get back into my custody and your mother will not see you until I say she can.”
“Don’t do that! It’ll crush her. Look I’ll just call her right away.”
I dialed mom’s number. The beep of calling seemed to be frozen in time. Mom picked up the phone in a light voice:”What is it, my dear son?”, not knowing what I was about to tell her.
7 or 8 minutes later…
“Please mom, please! I’m begging you. Just give it to dad and I promise he will return it as soon as he finishes using it, for my sake!” But I did not tell her about dad threatening to take me away because that would have made the situation even worse. My mom was not the type of person easily scared by threats, especially not from dad.
But she was not a cruel person either. To my delight, she finally agreed to lend it to dad: “Okay son, go to the second drawer under the television in my room and you’ll see it. But just this one time, for your sake. And he has to promise to give it back in a week.” “Yes, mom. Trust me. Thank you so much!” I guess she did not want to see me in sorrow after all.
Handing it to dad, I felt relieved. But what dad told me next brought me back to the cruel world again:”You know I won’t give it up so easily once I have this in my hand, right?” “What, what do you mean?”I asked. “Your aunt and I just got married not long ago, and there will be a lot of occasions where we’ll be needing it. I really appreciate you getting it for me. But the way the Household Register took so much strength to obtain from your mom, I seriously doubt she’ll give it to me next time I need it. Thus I’m going to keep it until I feel I’m done using it, which could take up to half a year.” “But I promised her she would have it again in a week.” “I’m afraid that’s unlikely. You are gonna have to talk her through it. This is our mutual property and my name is on it. After all she has no right to selfishly keep it in her own possession.” “You are telling me to talk my mother through a promise I will break. Without the promise, you wouldn’t even have it now.” “I understand. But part of this Household Register belongs to me and I’m just using it for legal purposes. Think about all the burden I have taken to keep you studying in America. You are a grown-up now and you need to take some responsibilities as well.” Again, that shut me up.
Dad left. It was just me standing there, looking into the charming sunlight in the late afternoon. Anything that beautiful was a luxury for me.
After sunset, mom came home. While she was cooking, I saw this very beautiful sunset glow in the sky. “You’re sure he’s going to give it back next week, right?” Mom asked.
“Right.” I said. And I swear it was the most gorgeous sunset glow I have ever seen in my life.