Five Spice Street

‘‘She also told me a story of another friend of hers: This woman used to have the bad habit of always running to the public toilet and talking with people there. As soon as she started talking, she forgot the time: she stank from spending the whole day in the toilet. Her husband was absolutely disgusted with her and wouldn’t let her get into the bed. She had to sleep in the corridor. The husband couldn’t put up with her: he simply kicked her out and threatened that if she dared go into the house, he would chop her to pieces! One day, X ran into this woman on the street, squatting in a pile of garbage looking for something to eat. X went up and chatted with her and taught her how to plait locusts from palm leaves. The woman learned quickly, and in the blink of an eye she became addicted to this hobby. She gave up chatting at the public toilet. Her husband took the woman back, and the whole family enjoyed a wonderful reunion. Of course I understood why she told me this. But her husband, my woeful friend, didn’t. He stood to one side with a big smile. He nodded at each word his wife said, and then walked over and patted me affectionately on the back and stupidly assured me that everything his wife said was true. A nitwit, even an idiot whose eyeballs can’t move, needs only slight inspiration from her in order to gradually become intelligent and normal. They echoed each other: the more they talked, the happier and more intimate they were. The husband was tightly encircling Madam X’s waist with his hands, not letting go even a little. Later, X made an absurd suggestion: ‘Why don’t the two of us jump up onto the desk?’ Sitting on top of the desk, holding hands and swinging their legs, they were even whistling at me!

‘‘This shocked me greatly. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out what had happened. I just felt ill and nauseated, and didn’t want to go on living. Taking stock of this vast world with old, bleak eyes, I pondered: since people don’t need you, and even your close friend treats you like a piece of shit-asking you to come and then driving you away whenever he wants-and behind your back makes fun of all your efforts, tramples all your good intentions underfoot, and blindly takes his wife’s side, then what kind of role are you playing in a world like this? What good are all of your efforts, except to make you a laughingstock? I tossed the idea back and forth: it was really painful. I made up my mind to end my life in its prime with a knife on a fine moonlit night. I already had the knife ready and had also chosen the place-the patio behind my house.

‘‘Just then, X and my friend came to my house, bringing their incomparably solicitous regards. They sat down clumsily and bashfully beside my bed and snuggled close together. After a while, my friend began taking an oath, saying that he would be my closest friend forever; he had no desire to betray me. He treasured every one of my favors and wouldn’t forget them in a million years. If there was any small misunderstanding between the two of us, it must have been instigated by the villain who always tries to turn the world upside down. I should never change my opinion of him because of this. He gestured as he talked. Leaning against his shoulder, his wife swayed violently with his movements and closed her eyes tight as if hypnotized. He mentioned again the story from last time. He said they certainly weren’t insinuating anything. If I lost my life because of this misunderstanding, they would be terribly grief-stricken. They had never doubted my intelligence and wisdom. Not long ago, his wife had also said that I was the most intelligent man in the world. He could vouch for her really having said this. Thinking they doubted my intelligence and wisdom was truly a huge injustice. He also often thought: if they lost such an intelligent and capable friend as I, how could they go on living? Who else would be as trustworthy? By the time he finished talking, his wife was sound asleep. She didn’t even wake up when he shook her. He had to carry her home.