The House of Life 1
Page 3
“Don’t cry. Elise. Whatever that is you've lost, I am going to find it for you.” Michael pulled her into his arms and tucked her into closer to his chest. She let herself dived into it without any resistance. “It’s okay.” He stroked her hair awkwardly. She sobbed and chocked on her own tears, the sound of it piercing Michael’s ears and wrung his heart into a tight knot. He felt so sympathetic for her despite the ridiculousness of the situation. “It’s okay.” Elise slumped heavily on Michael and he found his heart nervously palpitating from the closeness between them.
Although the music of the restaurant was quite loud, the sight of a sobbing girl contrasted sharply against the merry tunes in the background, causing a commotion in their section of the restaurant. A waiter felt compelled to look into it.
“Miss, are you okay?” He asked gingerly. Seeing no response, he whispered to Michael: “Is she okay? Do you want me to bring you a cup of hot water?” Hot water was the cure-all in Chinese culture.
“No, we’re fine.”
“You’re sure?” At that, Elise raised her head from the rugged chest of the fine young man. As her eyes caught the light coming from the candles on the table, she finally realized that she was embarrassing herself in the public.
“I am sorry.” She said weekly. Eyes smudged with mascara. “I…”
“Her dog just died,” Michael chirped in just in time with a reason he just made up to save Elise the pain of recounting the truth. He was saying it loud enough that almost everyone could hear him. “But she’s fine now.”
A collective and sympathetic ‘Awwww’ was heard at his reply from the women in the restaurant.
“Honey, you’re gonna be okay.” The thirty-year-old looking woman sitting next to their table said, who was starting to recount to her dinner partner the unfortunate departure of her beloved pet called China.
“I will take you to the restroom to clean your face. When you come back out we will go back to the office to look for it for you, okay?” Michael gently helped Elise to stand up on her feet.
When Elise has finally got inside the ladies’ room, Michael leant against the wall next to the closed door. He sighed. Deeply. He felt himself weakened by the vulnerability that this girl had shown. He, as satisfied with the life he’s been leading up till the moment he met Elise, he had never found himself yearning for a woman’s company in such dire need. He had lived most of his life working in solitude. Responsibility was loaded on his shoulders ever since he was born. This was not the time to think about that, he told himself. He shook himself free from the imaginary claws that his career and his family had over him. This was the first time in his life that something other than perfection of his job had not only occupied his mind but also draining it for all its resources — he had never dealt with a crying girl before — did I say the right words? Should I be lending her my shoulders? Was it appropriate for me to give her a hug? Do I walk her to the restroom or do I stay behind? He used to think he was slick but he was utterly dumbstruck in front of Elise’s beautiful teary eyes that were as exquisite as the mother of pearl. For a moment he indulged himself in the beauty of Elise in his own mind. Just like a little boy with a crush on a girl, he felt a great insurmountable urge to learn all about her and of course, find out what’s bothering her so much. Why does the diary meant so much to her? He thought. What’s in the diary? Why is it so important to her? And why did she take it with her ‘on the way’?
Just before Michael has enough time to ponder over the details, Elise walked out of the ladies’ room, all freshened up with a delicate yet bright smile. Once she saw Michael, however, she screamed:
“Oh, no!”
“What’s wrong again?” Michael asked, baffled.
“I smeared makeup all over your shirt!” Michael looked down at his shirt now stained with a medley of black from the mascara, nude from the foundation and pink from her lips color. Instead of feeling angry, he stood right there, amazed.
“I am so sorry, Michael! I will get you a wet towel.” She turned into the restroom again, feeling extremely embarrassed.
“It’s okay.” Michael pulled her back by the wrist. “I like to keep some souvenirs from you, the great artist who drew on my shirt.” He joked. “Let me go talk to the waiters and let him know that we are leaving.”
“To where?” Elise asked.
“To look for your Diary. I’m sure you will find it in the office, don’t worry.” He was starting to walk towards the front desk when Elise pulled him back around.
“I think you are right. It’s probably in the office. I don’t want to ruin your dinner anymore. Let’s sit back down and enjoy the meal.” She gave Michael a big smile telling him that she’s okay. With a little pulling and pushing, Elise got Michael back to their own table.
“Michael, I think I owe you an explanation of what just happened.”
“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”
“I am so sorry about losing my nerves. It just happened that this diary was a gift from a very close friend of my grandmother, and he was, possibly, my grandfather, although the family tale that survived tells a different story,” Elise explained, sucking back the tears that threatened to come out as her voice trailed off when the thoughts of the giver crossed her mind. Nevertheless, before the surge of emotion could take over her, she decided that she should stay calm and enjoy the moment, the now, the happiness that was tangible, at least this time so she could repay Michael’s tolerance for her, instead of dwelling in the past and letting life flit by her. She recovered from the shock and continued. “I found it some time ago, tugged away in a forgotten storage unit at home. My parents had no idea where it came from, and they dispelled my theory about my grandfather, being a German soldier stationed in China during World War One and all. That was what I have realized after reading all my grandmother’s diary entries and the letters she received from the man, called Maximilian.”
“Fascinating,” Michael searched now for a hint of Germanic features on the girl in front of him.
“No one believes me, of course. It’s perhaps just the romantic fantasy of someone who wished for an extraordinary family history. My parents said we were one hundred percent Chinese. It’s all very foolish, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. I promise I will help you search for it, Elise,” Michael pledged.
Elise thought about the proposal and nodded a thanks to the man.
On a mission to patch the damage she’s done to this date and to ratify the neurotic psychopath impression she made on Michael, she attempted to appear as cheerful as she could be. She liked the man.
“Good choice of restaurant. Its view is beautiful.” She smiled at Michael.
“It’s only because you’re here.” Michael said, letting the most private of all feelings he had now to be exposed to his seducer.
“You don’t have to butter me up because I have no plan in paying for your meal.” Elise joked and she raised her glass up in the air. Following the cue, Michael clinked hers with his wine glass.
Just then, a waiter in a spectacular white gown came over to their table and informed that there was a message for Michael and asked him to go to the front desk to receive it.
He made a quick sip of the wine, put it down on the table and assumed a rather stern expression on his face that he had not shown Elise before.
A message, again.
A Lost Diary
It was mahogany red and leather bounded. Binding its two worn out covers together was an old golden elastic band. The notebook was almost an inch thick and he could imagine that its owner must have tucked a great deal of secrets in it. The curled corners of a few envelopes tucked between the pages were poking out from the sides.
It had been sitting on his desk for two or probably three hours already. In the meantime he had already finished a barbecued pork lunchbox and taken a shower. He has given a great deal of thought regarding the notebook but he was still hesitating whether he should open it up to reveal the
mysteries hidden inside or simply take it back to the same MTR station’s Loss and Found in its original condition as any upright citizen should.
It had belonged to the girl he saw today in the train, he was sure. He saw it laying on the floor helplessly on the spot where the girl was resting her legs a moment ago before she hastily got off the train at the Tsim Sha Tsui station. Instinctively he picked it up and ran towards the closing doors. He managed to force them open and squeezed through the gap, which created a slight commotion in the train. It aggravated a MTR assistant officer in florescence orange suit who came running towards him to give him warnings. He waved the officer off by pretending that he couldn’t understand his badly spoken English and quickly scanned every corner of the station for the girl, but she was nowhere in sight already.
Ian sighed. If he could just picked up the notebook a split-second earlier, or ran a tad bit faster, he could have caught her. She would thank him profusely and they would exchange their mobile numbers so she could invite him for coffee to thank him properly. Then coffee would turn into lunch. Lunch would turn into dinner and dinner would turn into a nightcap on his bed. Ian couldn’t help hyperventilating a little when the arousing image came into his mind. But reality snapped back in again as he heard the clinked of the door out in the living room. It must be mom. He threw the red notebook into his backpack and quickly went out of his room to greet her.
***
The clinking of wine glasses overlays the sensuality of the Spanish singer singing in the back of the restaurant. The soft, warm glow of the candlelight decorated on the tabletop had made Elise’s cheeks redder than the rogue she put on. A kaleidoscope of faces swirled in front of her eyes as she downed another dollop of red wine. She never had any tolerance for alcoholic drinks. As she sat there in such a nice elegant restaurant, aged red wine poured into the glass in front of her with perfect execution, she wondered why her mother had never trained her like the kids from rich households who were given glasses of wine each night for months ahead of their eighteenth birthday to amp up their alcohol resistance well before they began the colorful social lives of their own. It was indeed better to be drunk at home than to embarrass your folks outside, Elise thought.
“Deep in thought already,” Michael interrupted her idle speculation.
“Just enjoying the atmosphere,” she replied. “Thanks for taking me here. It’s really beautiful.” They took the seat next to the window that overlooked the matrix of streets down below. Fireworks of neon signs exploded themselves before them. As she looked down she caught a glimpse of her handbag resting next to the leg of her chair, appearing to be unusually unsupported. Something was missing.
“Hmm. I think I’ve lost my diar...” She stopped herself. “umm...notebook.” She now glanced down at the empty space in her handbag where her red leather bound diary should be.
“You keep a diary, huh?”
“It doesn't belong to me, it was something I inherited from my grandmother. Something that passed down to me.”
“Interesting,” Michael said, noticing the nervous edge in her voice. “Why would bring something like that with you to work, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t know. Things happened like a dream today. I am not totally sure myself…” She bent to look under her chair, then the table. Perhaps it had dropped out of her handbag, but she had found nothing.
“Do you remember when was the last time you’ve seen it?” Michael asked, trying to be helpful.
“I put it in here this morning, as usual as it was, I am pretty sure of it.” She started to ruffle through her bag even though it was pretty apparent that an eight by eleven inches leather book cannot possibly be hidden behind her coin bags or her pressed powder case.
“Oh my God. Oh my God….” Elise thought to herself. “I can’t possibly lose it.” She started to pray in the back of her mind that she didn’t make such terrible mistake as she rummaged through the documents in her bags from today’s work, and dug her hand deep in between scores of cosmetics and miscellaneous objects that she now wish she didn’t have. Her mind blacked out for a second at the horror of losing something she held so dear to her heart, oblivious to Michael’s concerning inquiries about the diary. Whatever he asked, they didn’t register at all. Her eyes started to swell with tears but she couldn’t care less. They poured out of her into the black velvet lining of her bag as if it was a black hole that had sucked in her grandmother's diary, a precious gift from someone called Maximilian, her lover, someone she met before she was married to grandfather.
“Calm down, Elise.” Michael tried to soothe her as she poured out all her belongings into the porcelain plate in front of her, making loud clatter as they landed on the hard surface. That turned a couple of heads in their immediate surroundings. “It’s not in there, Elise. Maybe you should calm down and think.”
“No! I put it here. It’s IN here!” She bellowed. "This is the only thing I've left from her!" A few more heads turned towards their direction.
Michael looked nervously at the girl crying hysterically before him, wondering what he should do next. “Elise, I am sorry. I am so sorry…”
Elise stared into the dark velvet felt that she wanted to tear off from the core of her bag, begging for forgiveness from some unknown entity. Suddenly a pair of hands clasped her arms. She looked up in shock to see they belonged to Michael. He was kneeling next to her chair. Elise’s eyes met Michael’s. Through her blurry vision, she could see that his eyes were reddened, just like hers, but from distress of a different sort.
“Don’t cry. Elise. Whatever that is you've lost, I am going to find it for you.” Michael pulled her into his arms and tucked her into closer to his chest. She let herself dived into it without any resistance. “It’s okay.” He stroked her hair awkwardly. She sobbed and chocked on her own tears, the sound of it piercing Michael’s ears and wrung his heart into a tight knot. He felt so sympathetic for her despite the ridiculousness of the situation. “It’s okay.” Elise slumped heavily on Michael and he found his heart nervously palpitating from the closeness between them.
Although the music of the restaurant was quite loud, the sight of a sobbing girl contrasted sharply against the merry tunes in the background, causing a commotion in their section of the restaurant. A waiter felt compelled to look into it.
“Miss, are you okay?” He asked gingerly. Seeing no response, he whispered to Michael: “Is she okay? Do you want me to bring you a cup of hot water?” Hot water was the cure-all in Chinese culture.
“No, we’re fine.”
“You’re sure?” At that, Elise raised her head from the rugged chest of the fine young man. As her eyes caught the light coming from the candles on the table, she finally realized that she was embarrassing herself in the public.
“I am sorry.” She said weekly. Eyes smudged with mascara. “I…”
“Her dog just died,” Michael chirped in just in time with a reason he just made up to save Elise the pain of recounting the truth. He was saying it loud enough that almost everyone could hear him. “But she’s fine now.”
A collective and sympathetic ‘Awwww’ was heard at his reply from the women in the restaurant.
“Honey, you’re gonna be okay.” The thirty-year-old looking woman sitting next to their table said, who was starting to recount to her dinner partner the unfortunate departure of her beloved pet called China.
“I will take you to the restroom to clean your face. When you come back out we will go back to the office to look for it for you, okay?” Michael gently helped Elise to stand up on her feet.
When Elise has finally got inside the ladies’ room, Michael leant against the wall next to the closed door. He sighed. Deeply. He felt himself weakened by the vulnerability that this girl had shown. He, as satisfied with the life he’s been leading up till the moment he met Elise, he had never found himself yearning for a woman’s company in such dire need. He had lived most of his life working in solitude. Responsibility was l
oaded on his shoulders ever since he was born. This was not the time to think about that, he told himself. He shook himself free from the imaginary claws that his career and his family had over him. This was the first time in his life that something other than perfection of his job had not only occupied his mind but also draining it for all its resources — he had never dealt with a crying girl before — did I say the right words? Should I be lending her my shoulders? Was it appropriate for me to give her a hug? Do I walk her to the restroom or do I stay behind? He used to think he was slick but he was utterly dumbstruck in front of Elise’s beautiful teary eyes that were as exquisite as the mother of pearl. For a moment he indulged himself in the beauty of Elise in his own mind. Just like a little boy with a crush on a girl, he felt a great insurmountable urge to learn all about her and of course, find out what’s bothering her so much. Why does the diary meant so much to her? He thought. What’s in the diary? Why is it so important to her? And why did she take it with her ‘on the way’?
Just before Michael has enough time to ponder over the details, Elise walked out of the ladies’ room, all freshened up with a delicate yet bright smile. Once she saw Michael, however, she screamed:
“Oh, no!”
“What’s wrong again?” Michael asked, baffled.
“I smeared makeup all over your shirt!” Michael looked down at his shirt now stained with a medley of black from the mascara, nude from the foundation and pink from her lips color. Instead of feeling angry, he stood right there, amazed.
“I am so sorry, Michael! I will get you a wet towel.” She turned into the restroom again, feeling extremely embarrassed.
“It’s okay.” Michael pulled her back by the wrist. “I like to keep some souvenirs from you, the great artist who drew on my shirt.” He joked. “Let me go talk to the waiters and let him know that we are leaving.”
“To where?” Elise asked.