A Cello In Abstract
Page 21
They had been walking so slowly that they eventually came to a complete stop. Nearby, a little boy was riding a tricycle with a little girl standing on the crossbar behind him, under the watchful eye of a grandparent.
Lin Ming continued on about her father and his insistence that she marry Mr. Wang. There was a profound sadness in her voice as she talked about the arrangement. Money was supposedly the reason that her father insisted on the marriage, but there was another unspoken reason. Her father knew that she was attracted to Redding, and he wasn’t about to allow any such relationship.
She turned her head to watch a breeze send leaves scattering down the street, and then in the direction of the two children who were now arguing over possession of the tricycle.
“What kind of a marriage is that?” Ling Ming asked rhetorically.
Redding didn’t answer. He just put his arms around her and pulled her in close. She laid her head on his shoulder.
The little boy and girl had taken to yelling at each other as they fought in earnest over the tricycle. Redding had had enough of the fussing children, so he and Lin Ming continued walking.
They turned onto a small but busy street. He tried to find the right words to comfort her, but everything in his head sounded wrong. If it had been any other time, he would have told her everything that he held inside. There were a lot of things he wanted to say but couldn’t, not while she was struggling with so much uncertainty. When they had walked far enough, they stopped unintentionally and directly across from an old hotel.
Chapter Thirty
The Savory Hotel stood at the end of the long street. Splayed across the entrance was a marquee in both Chinese and English that proclaimed its existence. The hotel was something of an albatross both in appearance and location. Situated well outside the commercial district, it seemed like an unusual fit for the neighborhood. It was only five stories in height, but it dwarfed the neighboring buildings. At one time the stately building may have been some exclusive resort, but that was no longer true. Aside from peeling paint and its portico’s missing tiles, the façade was long overdue for some cosmetic maintenance.
“There’s something unsavory about the Savory Hotel,” Redding said.
“No, no! You must understand my situation,” Lin Ming protested. She knew full well what he had in mind. “Everything is already so complicated and that will only make things worse for me.”
He reached for her hand, but she immediately pulled away. She had said no, but he knew what was in her heart. He held his hand out to her and she paused for a long moment before taking hold. Any resistance that she had summoned quickly fell away. He led her across the street and into the hotel.
* * *
Unlike the exterior of the hotel, the lobby was in immaculate condition, although the décor was utterly outdated. Most of furnishings could have been classified as antiques, and it seemed likely that they had been part of the hotel’s original furnishings.
The man behind the reception desk said the room charge was one thousand yuan, paid in advance, and he didn’t ask any questions. He knew why they were there. It seemed kind of expensive for the few hours of use, but Redding would have paid any amount just to spend some time alone with Lin Ming.
* * *
The room was clean and neat, and the bed was fairly new, but just like the lobby, everything else was outdated. He didn’t mind and Lin Ming didn’t seem to notice. The sun was low in the sky but daylight continued to seep into the room, so he closed the drapes.
In the darkness they found each other under the covers. Redding put his arms around Lin Ming and pulled her close. Her scent was light, sweet, and familiar. It was the scent of gardenias and it reminded him of the first time they made love. The first time had been about discovery and letting themselves become lost in each other. This time it was different, as if they knew this time would be their last. It started intensely the moment their lips met and continued until both were consumed by an indefinably deep passion. In a fervor that seemed to have no end, it was as if nothing else in the world had ever mattered. Just like the first time, there had been an unexplainable depth of feelings. This time, however, there was also an unspoken realization of love. Something they both sensed would fade away before it ever had a chance to deepen. When it was over, they lay against each other in the darkness trying to catch their breath.
“One night, I dreamed I was the cello in the painting.” Redding said, as Lin Ming raised herself up on an elbow and traced the contours of his face with her hand.
“You mean the man playing the cello?”
“No, I mean I was the cello.” He moved his arm back and forth as if he were holding an imaginary bow against his chest.
“Yes, I can see you as a cello.”
It was irksome that his own imagination had already cast him as a cello, but to hear those words from Lin Ming made the cello image even more unsettling. He shrugged off the letdown and continued.
“And I could only play one note, D-flat. Just like the cello in the painting, forever playing that one dull and dismal note.”
“D-flat is dull and dismal?” Lin Ming asked.
“No, not really. It’s just another note on the scale, but it seems like it should be. D-flat, there is no excitement in it. Anyway, you enter my dream and take hold of the cello, and it becomes me.”
“And what does all of this mean?”
“I think it means that my life, up until now, has been just like that cello playing D-flat. My life, my business, hell, everything about me, it’s all D-flat.” Redding took a deep breath before continuing. “What I am trying to say is that I want you to be part of my life.”
Lin Ming laid her head back on the pillow but said nothing. She just stared at the ceiling. That wasn’t the response that he had hoped for or expected.
* * *
Redding had purposely darkened the room, allowing only a wisp of light from under the bathroom door. Shapes and distances were distinguishable, but details were not. As much as he wanted to see Lin Ming, he had to make sure that she didn’t see his welts and bruises. They had taken the room for only three hours, and already it was nearly time to leave. The small bathroom had provided an ample excuse to shower separately. He stayed under the covers while she made first use of the facility. When she had finished, he managed to slip into the bathroom without her noticing the welts. Throughout the day he had felt the pain and soreness of his injuries, but not so much as a twinge while they had been making love.
He had wanted to watch her as she dressed, exposing her soft body and subtle ways. He rushed through the shower and exited the bathroom wearing a shirt, but she was already fully clothed.
“You didn’t tell me. Did you get your painting?” she asked.
She had little interest in the painting and he knew it. Her query was only an attempt to distract him and offset any additional advances.
“Sort of; there’s not much to tell,” Redding said. He had hoped to avoid the subject completely.
“You sort of got the painting?”
“Well, it is kind of complicated.” He paused. “Lin Ming, I just want…”
“Redding, please don’t!” She already knew what he was about to say. “You will be leaving for America soon. You will have your friends and your business, and very soon, you will forget about us. About me.”
“I can find a place for you to live so you won’t have to be under your family’s thumb. They won’t be able to tell you what to do and I’ll take care of the rent.”
“You would keep me from my family? They are all that I have!”
A chasm had opened between them and he had all but fallen in. He tried to back his way out of the conversation with an apology, but it did little to help. He even tried to put his arms around her but she backed away.
“Let’s just say goodbye and leave it at that,” she said, reaching to wipe the tears that were forming in her eyes. “Please, don’t make this more difficult.”
* * *
“I was wrong. I never should have come to see you,” she said. “I was wrong to let myself become involved with you. My life was good and I was happy, but now I will have nothing but emptiness and misery. I don’t blame you. I only blame myself.”
Her words seemed unfairly harsh. Although she attempted to shoulder the blame, Redding couldn’t ignore the underlying meaning in her words.
“You’re not being fair to yourself or to me. There’s nothing wrong with two people loving each other.”
“Please, don’t say anymore,” she said. There was a profound sadness in her eyes, but strangely, there weren’t any tears. “You will leave China soon and I will still be here. There’s no future for us.”
She climbed back into the taxi and pulled the door closed before he had a chance to say anything else. If there was something he could have said that would have made a difference, he didn’t know what it was. He watched as the taxi disappeared into traffic, but her fragrance, her touch, her skin, and everything about her was still fresh in his mind.
As he waited for a taxi, images of the past few hours ran through his head absent of any intensity. The images offered of their shared passion seemed empty when contrasted with Lin Ming’s goodbye. Suddenly, he was startled from his thoughts when a motorcycle revved up. He spun in the direction of the motorcycle and instinctively assumed a defensive posture only to face a false alarm. It was a young couple with a toddler sandwiched between them. He relaxed his posture, although every nerve in his body stood ready. He knew better than to become complacent about his surroundings. Still, he wouldn’t have traded the distractions of the afternoon for anything. He made a quick assessment of all activity in his vicinity and there wasn’t anything that he considered threatening. He buttoned his coat against the biting wind and waited, but there wasn’t a taxi to be had anywhere.
Chapter Thirty-One
The thought had taken root in Sam’s head even before they had possession of the painting. Steal what had already been stolen. He knew any discussion with Ting would have been premature. His leanings were conservative, if not suspicious, while she was somewhat liberal and impulsive, so he just kept the thought to himself. A number of factors had to be considered before raising the subject with Ting. The primary one centered on the finder’s fee. The exact amount of the finder’s fee was unknown, as were the individuals willing to pay. Still, there were other concerns, such as transporting the article out of the country, and what if the painting wasn’t even genuine? He had turned the thought over in his head a dozen times but the practical issues were overwhelming. Stealing the painting also presented a sizable negative. If anything went wrong, they would collect nothing, or worse, they might even be arrested. Without ever saying a word to Ting, Sam discarded the idea. He would settle for Redding’s assurance that they would collect twenty-five-thousand dollars when the exchange was made.
* * *
After the morning crowd had dissipated, leaving the teahouse virtually empty, Ting finished in the kitchen and then sat with a cup of tea. The only thing on her mind was collecting the twenty-five thousand dollars. She was irritated that Redding still hadn’t delivered the money and she couldn’t imagine what was taking him so long. Two whole days had already passed and that should have been more than enough time.
She was still fuming over the delay when the thought first popped into her head. Steal what had already been stolen. Whether it was morally right or wrong wasn’t even a consideration. As far as she was concerned, it was only business. She spent a good portion of the day thinking about it. They could steal the painting outright or they could renegotiate with Redding. She wasn’t exactly sure how they should handle the finer details. Those decisions she would leave to Sam, but first, she had to convince him. She fully expected some resistance, so she rehearsed her argument in advance.
* * *
That evening, Sam was his usual self, complaining about school administrators and the indignities he had to suffer. He settled into his table at the back of the teahouse and waited for dinner to be served. Ting only had to listen in order to soothe his ego, but that wasn’t her intent. With his favorite meal of macaroni and cheese mixed with slices of Italian sausage, she lulled him into a satiated and quieter mood. Then she offered her thoughts, doled out piecemeal as arguments, as if they were the final course. There wasn’t anything complicated about her idea. They only had to steal the painting, which they already had, and collect the finder’s fee for themselves. That’s when Sam’s resistance surfaced.
“I’ve already given this a lot of thought. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop for the last two days. We don’t even know if the painting is real. Not to mention all the other reasons we don’t want to do this. We don’t know anything about the finder’s fee, like who’s going to pay it, or what happens if we get caught with the painting. What are we going to say? ‘Oh, we just happened to find it.’ We never should have gotten involved with Redding, anyway. So, let’s just collect our twenty-five thousand and say goodbye.”
“He’s cheating us,” Ting said. “We took so much risk and we only get twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s really unfair. Without us, he wouldn’t even have the painting.”
She argued vehemently that the painting was already stolen and they had been key participants. At the very least they were entitled to two-thirds of the finder’s fee. Her logic may have been flawed, but she was determined not to back down. Under constant haranguing Sam finally folded, but with one stipulation. He said he would reconsider the idea only after he had done some research. Ting interpreted that to mean that she had won.
Before they made off with the painting, there were some basic issues that couldn’t be ignored. The first was their lack of knowledge regarding the finder’s fee. They didn’t have a clue as to who had offered the reward, nor did they know the amount. The only thing they did know for sure was that Redding was keeping a larger percentage for himself. He had mentioned something about a museum that held an option on the painting, but he never actually said which museum. That one vital piece of information he had kept to himself. Their only real option would involve a comprehensive search of museums on the Internet. If that failed to produce the desired results, then they would have to settle for the original twenty-five thousand.
The only other complication stemmed from not knowing when Redding planned to exchange the twenty-five thousand for the painting. It could happen as soon as that night or even the next day. If they had not uncovered the specifics surrounding the finder’s fee by the time Redding came for the painting, then their efforts were pointless.
* * *
Well before closing the teahouse had all but emptied. Sam was sequestered at his table, methodically perusing the Internet. So Ting left an employee to watch the service counter while she dashed out on an errand. In the ten minutes that she had been away, the teahouse had nearly filled to capacity. Her employee was frantically trying to keep up with the surge in business but already customers were complaining. Ting had no sooner entered the café than she realized what was taking place. She immediately dropped a cardboard box, some pieces of foam, and a roll of box tape that she had been carrying on the floor and headed for the service counter.
In dumping the packing materials she had caused such a disruption that nearly everyone in the teahouse took notice, including Sam. He sh
ook his head and winced in disbelief. It wasn’t likely that Redding would have stopped by, but if he had, they would have been found out. The cardboard box and foam pieces all but announced their intentions. Sam collected the packing materials and found a temporary home for them behind the service counter. He would move the supplies to the school in the morning.
* * *
After closing the teahouse a half hour early, Ting sent her employee home. Then she busied herself by wiping down the tables and service counter while Sam continued the search. He had refined his parameters, but the heavy traffic on the Internet had stalled any real progress. He had been searching for more than four hours and hadn’t generated a single solid lead for the finder’s fee. When Ting finished cleaning the teahouse, she sat down next to Sam. She watched and waited as he navigated his way through site after site.
Half a dozen individuals had arrived by motorcycle. They lingered outside the café, arguing and flicking their lit cigarette butts at each other. One of them continuously pulled on the locked door as if expecting someone to let them in.
“You stupid people, we are closed!” Ting yelled in their direction. She started toward the door, waving her hands over her head to indicate that Tae House was closed.
The refused individual backed away from the front door, but the group continued to mill around outside. In spite of their loud and disruptive behavior, Sam ignored them. His whole attention was mired deep in the search, sampling site after site.