Petals from the Sky

by Mingmei Yip

  “Very nice apartment,” I exclaimed. “But I think I really should go home. Michael may call anytime.”

  “Meng Ning, would you compassionately grant a lonely chap the pleasure and honor just to have an after-dinner drink with you?”

  Feeling completely powerless, I muttered a weak, “Yes, of course.”

  After he led me to sit down on his huge ivory leather sofa covered with colorful pillows, he went inside the kitchen and soon returned with a lacquer tray. He put down the tray and handed me a glass. After that, he sat next to me on the sofa, took off his jacket and tie, then started to sip his drink thoughtfully. Although he was not very near to me, instinctively I moved away a bit.

  We started to chat about various things-music, films, art, museums, and his practice. I was surprised when he told me that some of his patients were Hollywood stars.

  “I’m very tempted to tell you who they are, but I can’t.” He took another sip of his drink and looked at me with eyes soft and tender like blue silk. “But you know what? None of these stars can compete with your beauty.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, Philip, but please don’t exaggerate.”

  His expression turned serious. “No, not a bit. Their beauty is all skin-deep. I’m the one who fixes their skin so I know. Meng Ning, none of them can compete with your natural beauty, your naturalness, your mystery. It must be because of your Zen study.”

  “Oh, Philip, you’re overpraising me.” Now my face must be the same color as his blood-streaked steak!

  “With you, I only speak from my heart. I’d never have the heart to lie to this innocent face of yours,” he said, reaching to touch my cheek.

  “Philip…” My cheek was hot, and so was his hand.

  He murmured, his voice soaked in alcohol, “Meng Ning, I can’t help it; I just can’t. I’m in love with you, helplessly and desperately.”

  “But this is only the third time you have seen me.” I tried to act calm, but my heart was beating like a door frantically knocked upon by a debt collector.

  “Time is irrelevant,” he said, then pulled me close to him.

  “Philip, please don’t…”

  “Shhh…be quiet.” In no time, he sealed my lips with his. His hands held my waist tight. Then he pulled my whole body against his, warm like an oven.

  I felt his body heat gradually penetrating my clothes, my skin, then trying to grope its way into my heart. His kisses, like the lava of a volcano, melted my lips. I felt my body plunging right into this dark, fiery pit of passion and danger.

  Suddenly a sadness hit me so hard that I pushed him away. I started to weep, then sobbed involuntarily. My whole body shook like a tiny boat in a merciless storm.

  Finally Philip let go of me. “Meng Ning, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did I…offend you?”

  “I don’t know. Philip, I’m just engaged to Michael and now I feel strongly attracted to you. That’s not right!”

  “Love has nothing to do with being right or wrong.” He tilted my chin and his penetrating eyes peered into mine; their expansiveness reminded me of the vast blue sky, the fathomless ocean. His voice was soft and tender like a feather. “Do you love Michael?”

  I remained silent, overwhelmed by his mere presence and desire.

  “If you don’t, feel free to love me. I’m all yours.” He kissed my hand, then pressed it against his chest. “Feel my heart, Meng Ning. It’s beating for you.”

  “Philip, just let me go home.”

  He kept staring at me, but didn’t say a word.

  “Please, Philip.”

  He pulled my face close to his. “Meng Ning, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.”

  “Sorry, but I…can’t. I’m very confused. I should’ve stayed with Yi Kong and been a nun!”

  “No, you’re not going to be a nun,” Philip said, starting to kiss me again.

  I had to use sheer willpower to push him and my desire away. “Please, Philip, I really have to go home.”

  “All right, if that’s what you really want.” He planted a kiss on my forehead, stood up abruptly, and held his hand out to help me up.

  The next day I woke up late with a splitting headache, dry lips, and aching all over my body. Scenes from last night with Philip kept spinning in my head. I tried to listen to music, read, and meditate. But nothing worked. Philip’s hot kisses still seemed to linger on my lips, melting my heart and my body. Was I betraying Michael? Did I make the right choice to be his fiancée, or should I return to Hong Kong to take refuge with Yi Kong? How could I be attracted to another man so quickly? Was I becoming a slut?

  The air felt a bit chilly and I rubbed my arms. The Guan Yin pendant that I’d laid down on the sofa now seemed to be smiling at me, whether at my misgivings or ignorance I could not tell. This was the amulet that Yi Kong had dropped down to me in the well seventeen years before. Then the Goddess of Mercy had come toward me in the subterranean darkness, riding on a fish. I had found peace of mind for the first time in her spiritual presence, amidst the stink of rotten vegetation and mildew. Later in Golden Lotus Temple, I had admired the nuns’ kind faces and compassionate deeds…

  I felt an impulse to bare my thoughts and pour my soul out to a female. Since the Goddess of Mercy was, after all, but a gold-plated miniature painting, I needed a woman friend to turn to, but I had none here except…

  21. Why Don’t You Try It with a Woman?

  When Lisa opened the door, I felt instantly soothed by the fragrance of wild ginger flower. Her face, framed by the half-closed door with the light flooding at her back, looked soft and inviting. I followed her inside her apartment as if in a trance.

  “Make yourself at home, Meng Ning. I’m going to get us something to drink.”

  I looked around. The walls were painted white and the floor partly covered by dark green, intricately patterned rugs. The furniture included two bookshelves, a coffee table, and a reddish-brown wooden chest with bronze drawer handles. The feeling of simplicity and cleanliness pleased me. But what caught my attention were the paintings covering the main wall. They were huge, and I could now feel the strong yet disturbing energy emanating from the many circles and lines. Though impressive, somehow the whole effect still didn’t look quite right to me. Was Lisa deliberately striving for confusion?

  “Lisa, your paintings are very…powerful,” I said, lowering myself onto the sofa next to a large window.

  “Thanks.” She was busy with the refrigerator in the small kitchen, her dress straining at her hips. Then she came to put down on the coffee table a tray with two glasses and handed me one.

  “It’s your Coke-with a squirt of rum in it.”

  She sat down on the sofa opposite me and crossed her legs. Her toenails, painted a phosphorescent bronze, gave out a few sparks as she flicked her toes. The silver filigreed ankle bracelets twinkled in response.

  It had started to rain outside. We sipped our drinks in silence while I studied her-the tawny motes flickering in her dark amber eyes, the curves of her long lashes matching those of her nose. I had always been fascinated by women, though my feelings were not at all erotic.

  The beautiful female sex.

  I never have thought that beauty is merely skin deep. I was sure even Yi Kong, as a nun, agreed. The novices she’d picked to be around her were all pretty. Not to mention her exquisite art collection. Beauty always whispers mystery, and how can mystery just be on the surface? Maybe that was the reason I was now attracted to Philip?

  Lisa looked at me curiously. “Meng Ning, what is it? Please tell me.”

  “Hmmm…just a bit confused, so I need someone to talk to.”

  “So, what’s your problem, a fight with Michael because of me?”

  I remained silent.

  “Meng Ning, you should open yourself more to the world. And to men, too.”

  Did she already know what had happened between me and Philip last night?

&n
bsp; “Are you mad that I was Michael’s fiancée?”

  I shook my head. “No, there’s something else on my mind.”

  “You’ve been sheltered too long by the nuns, and now by Michael. That’s not healthy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She stood up and came to sit down next to me. Then her hand started to stroke my hair, tenderly, as if I were her little sister. The rhythmic touches were soothing, almost hypnotic.

  “You’re a very attractive woman, so I think maybe you should date other men besides Michael. You know, now Asian women are hot among American men. What do you think about Philip?”

  My heart started to pound. I blurted out, “Do you already know what happened yesterday?”

  “You mean you already had sex with Philip?” She didn’t look surprised, but amused.

  “Oh no, not like that, but…” I took a big gulp of my drink.

  Suddenly I noticed Lisa’s hand had already moved from my hair down to my collar bone, then shoulder. Now she leaned her face very close to mine, staring at me long and hard. “Tell me, Meng Ning, do you think sex is bad?”

  “No, hmmm…” I put down the glass.

  “It’s nothing wrong, right?” She tapped her head. “It’s only wrong in people’s heads.”

  Seeing that I didn’t respond, she continued. “Even Buddhism teaches that sex is good. For Tibetans, sex is the way to enlightenment.”

  She refilled my drink. “When you come, there’s no place for the mind, only the experiencing of the moment. There’s no separation-you become truly one with your partner.” She went on, a mischievous smile on her face. “The guy is famous for seducing reluctant women and giving them unprecedented pleasure.”

  “Lisa-” I was slowly absorbing the shock. “Do you think what I did was wrong? Being engaged to Michael and attracted to Philip?” I took another gulp of my Coke.

  “So what? That doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Meng Ning, you’re taking things too seriously. Relax. Life should be a party!”

  “Then does it mean that when you were engaged to Michael you also had a little fun?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t bat an eyelid. “That’s why we split up. Michael’s just like you; he can’t relax.”

  “But I think you told me he left you for someone else.”

  “Take it easy, Meng Ning.” She was playing with my hair. “You know Michael’s past. That’s why he’s always starving for affection.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. Then suddenly I noticed her hand, like a predator, was now perching on my breast.

  I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “Lisa, what are you-”

  “Meng Ning, relax, it’s no big deal.”

  “But-” I realized that it was already the umpteenth time that I’d used the word “but.”

  “You’re a Buddhist, right? So let go of your inhibition, detach from your puritanical rules and live in the moment. Rules are not made by God, but people, and most of them are pricks anyway.” Now she studied me as if I were an elementary school student. “For Christ’s sake, Meng Ning, I’m just trying to educate you!” Then her tone softened. “Believe me, it doesn’t hurt to give it a try.”

  “Try what?”

  She handed me my glass. “Have more; it’ll help to relax you.”

  I took a long swig under her scrutinizing eyes.

  “Every woman should try it at least once with another woman. I’m sure you’ll like it. It’ll feel much more open and free than with a man-”

  “Lisa, stop that. I’m not a lesbian!”

  “You don’t have to be. Are you an American, because you speak English?”

  I was speechless.

  “Me neither,” she said, then, as if I didn’t understand, added, “I’m not a dyke.”

  “Then why do you want-”

  “There shouldn’t be any distinctions. I like both.”

  “Both what?” I felt my vision blur and a headache coming.

  She lowered her voice as if to tell a secret. “Both sexes. As long as I find them attractive.” She paused to sip her drink, then added, “You know what, Meng Ning? I had a crush on you the instant I saw you at the Met. Do you know when you leaned your delicate head against Michael’s broad shoulder, you looked so damn cute and vulnerable? I already imagined making love to you-”

  “Lisa!”

  Oblivious of my reaction, she went on, searching my eyes, “Ahhh…Meng Ning, you’re still like a little girl. That’s why I’m here for you.” She paused for a few moments before she went on. “Innocence is irresistible…” she almost sang, while her hand lightly pressed my nipple.

  “Lisa, please stop-”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be very gentle.” She drew close to me and began to lick my neck; her voice sounded as if it were coming from a deep, delirious dream.

  I was trying to resist, but her kissing was becoming ardent. She shifted her weight and moved her leg to lock mine. It was then that her loose cotton slacks slid up, revealing her legs-one muscular and the other shriveled. While tears stung my eyes at the pathetic sight, somehow I also felt strangely moved.

  “It’s OK, Meng Ning. Feels good, doesn’t it?” she purred, misunderstanding my tears of compassion for something else.

  Quickly she peeled off my blouse, then slipped her hand under my bra. I was still staring at her leg, feeling both too intrigued and appalled to respond. Then I felt her unhook my bra, and her fingers slowly traced around my nipples.

  Now seemingly in a state of complete intoxication, her eyes closed; she began to lick the inside of my ears. This time the tickling became so unbearable that I involuntarily jerked.

  “Feels wonderful, eh? I know you like it.”

  I tried but failed to speak, or think. Her moist, ginger-flowered breath was all over my face. The sight of her shriveled leg struck something deep inside me that I had not known existed. Then the tickle became so intense that I involuntarily closed my eyes, letting shudders escape me like a fish released back to the sea.

  Lisa became more aggressive in her advances. She moved her burning lips all over me. When she was pressing her tongue on my collarbone, I opened my eyes and saw her full breasts, now completely bare, pressing against mine. This was the first time I had actually seen another woman’s breasts naked, except, of course, my mother’s when I was a child. In Golden Lotus Temple, any contours would be either hidden under loose, thick robes as if they didn’t exist, or flattened under layers of cloth as if they were diseases trying to break out.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Lisa’s swelling flesh tipped with large nipples like embroidered plum-blossoms. Bits of perspiration glowed there like pink dew.

  Suddenly she squirmed; my hand jerked and brushed against the plum-blossom. Wisps of her hair touched my face; her warm skin sent a tremor down my spine. I remembered after the fire when I’d accidentally stroked Yi Kong’s shoulder. But the touch felt different, because Yi Kong was a nun, while Lisa was a worldly woman, who now shifted and moaned breathlessly, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her head falling to the side.

  I snapped, “Lisa, stop it-”

  But I was not able to finish my sentence, for she had already sealed my lips with hers. The wild ginger flower fragrance coiled around me like a heavy net into which I helplessly plunged…

  22. The Dying Kitten

  After I’d left Lisa’s apartment feeling totally confused, angry, and sorry for myself, I was not in a mood to go back to the empty apartment and so I headed for the comforting aromas of Chinatown.

  The rain had nearly abated as I strolled along Mott Street. I walked past an eatery where an oily-faced man was cooking dumplings with a pair of long, thick, wooden chopsticks. The dumplings looked fat and juicy in the bubbling broth, but they didn’t rouse my appetite. I passed a noodle shop from which wafted the fragrance of meat, ginger, garlic, and Chinese scallion, then a café window hung with roasted baby pigs, soy-sauce chickens, and crispy ducks glistening with oil. The
animals’ clouded eyes stared at me as if hungry for life. Just then I heard a loud chuuup! I turned and saw a chicken’s head fly off from a blood-stained chopping block.

  I continued walking aimlessly, trying to clear-or maybe numb-my mind. I walked past a café, an open street market with fish squirming in wooden buckets, then a grocery where Cantonese opera tunes blared from the sound system. A teenager kicked away a crushed can; a greasy-haired man flicked a lighted cigarette butt right into the middle of the street. Cartons, crates, Styrofoam containers, scraps of newspaper lay strewn all along the curb.

  Still feeling sick, I jostled my way through the pedestrians and passed a narrow opening from which a sad, feeble cry startled me. My senses were awakened at once and I traced the sound into a back alley.

  It was a kitten. Her hair was matted to her bony body and her eyes had the look of a person dying an unexpected death. Beside her lay a piece of rotten-looking meat. As I approached her, two Chinese boys around eight years old appeared from nowhere. One, heavy, wearing a stained T-shirt and torn blue jeans, held a bamboo stick. The skinnier one, in shorts frayed at the hem and sandals that revealed mud-caked toenails, cheered the other on as he tried to snap the kitten’s tail.

  Right then a back door swung open and a Chinese man, wearing a blood-stained apron and with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, strode out to dump a huge plastic garbage bag onto the curb. When he saw the kids and the kitten, a hateful grin split his face. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and flicked the lighted butt onto the kitten. “Dead cat!” he spat, then stalked back, slamming the door with a loud bang that seemed to make the ground shiver. The kids roared with laughter; the kitten jerked. The rotund kid dropped his bamboo stick and picked up the cigarette butt while his comrade cheered him on. “Yes! Poke it in the eyes, the eyes…”

  “Stop that and leave her alone!” I shouted. My voice sounded surprisingly intimidating to my own ears. Both kids halted, the fat one’s hand hanging in midair. They looked up and studied me with eyes full of spite. Fat Boy gave me a dirty look and spat, “Bitch!” while Skinny made a gargoyle face by stretching his mouth with his filthy fingers and dropping his tongue. He shouted to Fat Boy “Let’s go!” and the gang of two dispersed noisily, feet splashing in puddles.