Petals from the Sky

by Mingmei Yip

  “Not exactly a fight. I was just so frustrated that they wanted to give me an injection I didn’t need. So maybe I raised my voice a little.”

  A silence, then I touched his cheek.

  “When I woke up this morning, they served me some kind of meat porridge, so I refused to eat. Then when I asked for something vegetarian, no one understood me; they thought I was just being difficult. I felt completely helpless and scared. I’m a total stranger here and no one seems to care about me.”

  “But I’m here with you now, Michael, so you’ll be all right.”

  He went on as if talking to himself. “I remembered how my parents died when I was young, leaving me all by myself. Meng Ning”-he put my hand to his lips-“the thought that I might lose you was so unbearable…”

  “But, Michael, I’m here and I’m all right!” I squeezed his large hand, which now seemed so vulnerable in mine. Then I felt something shift in my mind, something that perhaps I’d sensed but pushed out. I was no more the little girl protected and pampered in Golden Lotus Temple, but had to be a strong woman to help Michael recover in a place where he could not even speak to anyone but me. Overnight, our roles seemed reversed-now I was his guardian goddess, and he the child thrust under my protection.

  One tear fell from the corner of Michael’s eye and spilled onto the sutra.

  “Damn,” he groaned, picking up the book.

  “It’s all right, Michael.” I took the book from him and examined it. The tear smeared right at the phrase “reflecting that all the five elements are but emptiness, transcending all sufferings.” I showed it to him. “See, Guan Yin says we’ll transcend all sufferings.”

  “I hope so,” Michael said, looking lost in thought.

  “I’m sure we will.”

  For the first time that day he smiled and the dingy hospital room seemed brighter.

  At that moment, I felt overwhelmed with love for him. Suddenly I was almost glad about the car accident. I finally saw a place in his life-for Michael was not totally self-sufficient as I’d thought. Maybe nobody is. Even Yi Kong needed Sunny Au, the fat, vulgar protector of the Dharma. While I looked down at his now almost boyish face, the fortune-teller’s words popped into my mind:

  Inside you there’s a spring of young yin energy that you should put to good use by helping your friend… He not only needs you, he needs the woman in you, not the little girl.

  Just then Old Mother poked her head toward us and asked, “Miss, can you now ask your boyfriend if he can teach my daughter English?”

  Her comrade pulled her back and chided her. “Old Mother, stop your nonsense and let this miss talk with her boyfriend.”

  “My fiancé.” This time I corrected him.

  Although Michael didn’t understand Chinese and had been in a rotten mood, he nevertheless smiled warmly at the two and said, “It’s all right.”

  Old Mother threw another unexpected, irrelevant question. “Miss, you find everything you need?”

  There was some silence before I said, softly, “Yes, and more.”

  36. The Missing Temple

  Before we left for Hong Kong, Michael and I decided to visit Master Detached Dust and Eternal Brightness in their hidden temple once more.

  We took a taxi and went by the place where we thought we’d first seen it. But it wasn’t there. In one place, thinking we could see a corner of the old temple through a gap in the dense bamboo, we asked our driver to stop. Yet when we got out, to our disappointment, there was no sign of the path we had taken before. Unwilling to give up, we went back to the hospital to try to find our taxi driver. But he was not there. When we asked the porter at the hospital, he told us, “He left and we don’t know where he is. Anyway, even if you could find him it’s still no use, because I’m sure his license is already suspended because of the accident. Maybe they put him in jail.”

  PART FOUR

  37. Bad Karma

  After a few more days’ rest in Hong Kong, Michael felt well enough to go back to the States. Before he left, we’d talked about our wedding plans. Now I wondered why I had ever thought of breaking the engagement and leaving him!

  Suddenly there were all kinds of things to do. I knew I would have to ask Yi Kong to officiate at our Buddhist marriage ceremony, but in the meantime I occupied myself making arrangements: printing of invitation cards, trying on bridal dresses, ordering the banquet at a vegetarian restaurant. I was also desperate to see Dai Nam. Once back in Hong Kong, guilt welled up in me that my own karmic entanglements had kept me from doing much to comfort her after her attempted suicide.

  One morning I took the MTR to Mong Kok, and from there changed to the train out to Golden Lotus Temple. I hurried past the stone garden and headed straight to Dai Nam’s dormitory. To my surprise, I found her room empty. Alarmed, I half ran to the temple’s new office compound to look for Enlightened to Emptiness. The young novice was arranging photographs of Guan Yin paintings on the desk. After we’d exchanged greetings and pleasantries, I plunged in and asked her about Dai Nam.

  “The week after I came back from Chengdu, Wonderful Countenance Shifu left for China.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “Nothing special. Shifu refuses to talk.” She frowned. “Shifu told us-in writing, I mean-that she wanted to go back to China to practice closed-door meditation.”

  “Did she say exactly where she was going?”

  “No, you know Shifu…but don’t worry, Miss Du. I’m sure she’ll turn up again someday.” Then she pointed to a photograph depicting a white-robed Guan Yin leaning on a rock by the river and asked, “You like this? This is Yi Kong Shifu’s favorite Guan Yin painting. She’s now in Suzhou. She said she’d see you later.”

  I was not really listening and barely glanced at the picture. My heart started to pound. I hoped Dai Nam was not trying to imitate the now mummified Revealing Mystery, who hadn’t spoken, eaten, nor slept for her last fifteen years.

  I thanked Enlightened to Emptiness, quickly left the office, and strolled to the stone garden. To relax, I inhaled the smell of the lush vegetation, appreciated the smoothly shaped stones, and listened to the poetic murmuring of the fountain. Then I realized I was not alone in the garden. The old woman, Chan Lan-Dai Nam’s great-aunt-was sitting on my favorite carp-viewing bench. My heart raced. Maybe she knew where Dai Nam was. I hurried to sit down by her side. A trail of bubbles spread out along the water as a fat carp surfaced and flapped its tail as if to greet me.

  “Ah-po, how are you today? Why aren’t you practicing qigong?” Energy exercise.

  Chan Lan smiled her toothless smile. “Just finished.” She leaned close to stare at me. “Are you the pretty, unmarried girl?”

  “I’m unmarried, but…I don’t think I’m-” I patted her hand. “You have an excellent memory, Ah-po.”

  She shook her head. “No good now, used to be excellent, can remember my grand-niece’s birthday, the date she arrived in Hong Kong, the date I paid one thousand dollars to buy her passport…” She stopped.

  I seized the chance to ask, “You mean Dai Nam? How is she? Where is she now?”

  “No good. Doesn’t talk and went to China.”

  “Because she wants to practice meditation on the mountain?”

  “No.” Chan Lan chuckled. “She went back to see her boyfriend.”

  This was not what I had expected to hear.

  “Ah-po, I think you’re mistaken, for she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s a nun!”

  Chan Lan nodded emphatically, like a child trying to prove her innocence when accused of lying. “She does; he died long time.”

  I muttered to myself, “Dai Nam went to China to see her dead boyfriend?”

  Chan Lan turned to stare at the fountain, her gaze becoming abstract. I forced myself to keep quiet and wait for her to speak again. Only the sound of water and an occasional croaking of a frog interrupted our silence.

  “She was nineteen, the boy much younger, only fifteen. Poor couple! No good!” H
er voice sounded as shrill and excited as a five-year-old’s.

  I asked softly, fearing that if I acted too eager I’d scare her out of talking, “I’m so sorry…how…did this happen?”

  Chan Lan looked at me; her eyes flickered mischievously. “You don’t know?”

  “No, I don’t. Please tell me. I’m her friend from Paris.”

  “Ah, Ba Li, yes, of course, my niece hates Ba Li. She said no good, too cold, no friend, no money, only arthritis-”

  “But, Ah-po, you were telling me about Dai Nam’s boyfriend.”

  Chan Lan’s shrill laughter pierced through the humid air. “Ah, yes. See, my memory no good now. I used to remember my niece’s birthday, my daughter’s death day, my-”

  “Ah-po, Dai Nam’s boyfriend, how did he die?”

  “Ah, sad, very sad.” Chan Lan scratched her scanty white hair with her clawlike fingers. Then she hid her mouth with her hand and whispered into my ear, “Drowned.”

  My heart flipped, then suddenly something connected. “Was he drowned while swimming with Dai Nam to Hong Kong?”

  “Yes, yes, miss, you’re so smart.” Chan Lan turned to look at me directly. “Swam seven times together and failed, succeeded at the eighth.”

  I was confused again. Was that boyfriend of Dai Nam’s dead or alive?

  “But, Ah-po, didn’t you just tell me that he was drowned?”

  Again she nodded emphatically. “Yes, but body arrived.”

  “You mean…” I felt a small explosion inside me as I spat out, “Dai Nam carried his body all the way to Hong Kong?”

  “Yes, strong girl, eh?” Chan Lan touched my arm with her bony claws. “Carried body and swam for many miles.” She leaned close to whisper into my ear, “Not only that, only half body arrived.”

  “How come?”

  “Other half eaten by sharks. Bad sharks!”

  My eyes stung. “Then how come the sharks didn’t attack her?”

  “Dai Nam lost him midway. Swam back for him but only half was left. Half still better than nothing, right, miss? So Dai Nam carried the shark’s leftover dinner to Hong Kong. Hard trip, eh? But she had to because she’d made a promise.”

  “What promise?”

  Chan Lan chuckled, then covered her mouth. “Miss, do I have bad breath?”

  “No, Ah-po, you’re fine. Please tell me what promise Dai Nam made to her boyfriend.”

  Something like a giggle wheezed from the space between her few teeth. “Ah, you don’t know?”

  Now I was starting to think of throwing this centenarian to the sharks. But then she spoke in time to relieve my frustration. “They took an oath that they’d swim together to Hong Kong. If one died, the living one would still carry the other to freedom.” Suddenly Chan Lan looked sad. “Ah, shouldn’t have sworn like this-bad luck-so it did happen!”

  I patted her hand. “But it’s all over now, Ah-po.”

  “Hai!” Chan Lan sighed. “If the man hadn’t died, my niece wouldn’t have become a nun.”

  Of course. Then Dai Nam would have gotten married and had children, many many.

  “Is that why she became a nun?”

  “You bet. She said very painful. She told me if she is a nun, she won’t attach.” Chan Lan studied me for a few seconds. “Miss, you’re smart; do you think they should make that promise?”

  I didn’t respond. I was immersed in my own thoughts. Now all the puzzles about Dai Nam seemed to be falling into place. The strenuous cultivation of nonattachment. The agitation behind her seemingly emotionless face. The attractiveness hidden under her plain, oversized clothes and thick glasses. The cold demeanor to seal in her mental turmoil. Burning off her fingers to show nonattachment. Forcing open her third eye to be able to see ghosts-perhaps her boyfriend’s ghost. Her black-painted room. Her awkward squatting poses. Even her suicide attempt was not because she’d broken her vow by eating the wrong cake, but because she was still suffering.

  Only at the moment she had pushed herself to the threshold of death was she relieved of her pain.

  Buddhists say “to die in order to live.” Suddenly I felt a swell of great compassion for my friend, together with admiration for her love and courage.

  I turned back to Chan Lan. “Ah-po, since Dai Nam’s boyfriend is dead, how can she go to see him?”

  “Yes, yes, of course she can!” Chan Lan nodded her head like a pestle hitting on a mortar. “Boyfriend’s grave overgrown with weeds. She went back to tend to it. Gone-three years’ mourning. Also, my nephew-her father-died.”

  Now I understood. Chan Lan must have confused Dai Nam’s departure for China now, with her departure a few years ago.

  I put one of Chan Lan’s stray hairs into place. “Dai Nam must have loved her boyfriend very dearly.”

  Chan Lan spoke again in her shrill, girlish voice. “Yes, yes. She told me the only man good and bad to her in China.”

  “What do you mean, good and bad?”

  “Ah, you don’t know?” Chan Lan’s eyes twinkled. “He ruined her face when he was a kid; then he repaid his bad karma by being nice to her.” She made a face. “But then he was drowned, so still too much bad karma unpaid!”

  I felt a jolt inside. So Dai Nam’s lover was the little boy who’d slashed her face for no reason and left her with the big scar?

  Right then a nun approached us, smiling generously and beginning to tease her. “Ah, Chan Lan, you’re gossiping again. Don’t you know it’s time for lunch? The other ah-pos are all waiting for you.” The nun turned to me, still smiling. “Sorry, miss, it’s time for lunch; maybe you can come back and talk to her later?”

  As the nun helped Chan Lan to leave, I put my hands together and bowed slightly to both of them.

  Chan Lan waved her bony hand, chuckling. “Miss, get married soon and have children, many many.” When she was a few steps away, she turned back. “When you grow old, it’s still better than talking to the four bare walls!”

  The nun chided her affectionately. “Ai-ya! Chan Lan, stop lecturing others all the time!”

  Watching the nun’s and Chan Lan’s receding backs, I felt tears roll down my cheeks. Michael’s image emerged clearly in my mind. Again the clouds vanished and the full moon shone, silently reminding me that life is fragile and true love hard to find.

  I swore that I would never let go of Let-Go-and-Be-Carefree.

  38. Confessions

  The next day after my meeting with Dai Nam’s great-aunt, I asked Mother to sit down with me to plan for the wedding.

  She looked uncomfortable.

  “Ma, aren’t you happy that I’m getting married?”

  “Of course. But…” She sighed. “I worry because he’s a gweilo.”

  “Ma, stop being racist! What’s the difference, as long as Michael’s a nice person? Besides, don’t worry that you can’t get along with him. He knows more about Chinese culture than most Chinese do.”

  Mother still looked upset.

  Then I told her about Michael’s erudition in Chinese philosophy and art, that he was a good doctor, and finally, how he had saved my life during the fire in the Fragrant Spirit Temple.

  “Ah! This gweilo saved your life?”

  “Ma, I’ve told you his name is Michael.”

  “All right, Mic Ko! So this Mic Ko saved your life and you’ve never told me that.” She paused, seemingly in deep meditation; then suddenly her eyes widened. “But you know what? I think it’s because you’re a lucky girl. Remember the villagers in Yuen Long regarded you as the reincarnation of Guan Yin? That’s why nothing can harm you. First you fell into the well, then this fire. Ah, so lucky, the Goddess of Mercy!” Mother looked at me admiringly while putting a strand of hair on my forehead in place. “So I think you’re the one who saved his life.”

  “Ma, don’t be ridiculous, how-”

  “Why do daughters never listen to their mothers?” Mother sighed, shaking her head. “Because your aura protected him and made him do the right thing, that’s how.”


  I wanted to argue, but stopped myself. If that was what she would like to think, why shouldn’t I just let her enjoy her own notions?

  “All right Ma, I saved his life.” I chuckled. “Now why don’t we start to plan for the wedding?”

  Without answering me, Mother shot up from the sofa, dashed inside the bedroom, returned with a book in her hand, and plopped it down on the coffee table in front of me.

  “What’s that?”

  “Tong Sheng, silly girl,” Mother chided affectionately. “You think I’m not thinking about your wedding? I’ve got everything ready.”

  I flipped through the book-Tong Sheng, literally “Sure Win,” is the most popular almanac for Chinese astrology. Mother always kept it in the house so she could look up and pick auspicious days, sometimes even moments, to do things right.

  For Chinese, picking the right date is essential: for getting married, naming a new baby, starting a business, even starting a fire in the stove or getting a haircut.

  “Thank you, Ma,” I said, and, to show my respect for her, helped her to sit down on the sofa.

  Then Mother and I, two generations with the same face yet different temperaments, sat beside each other in a respectful manner and turned the pages of destiny.

  For the first time we became of one heart and one mind.

  “Wait just another moment,” Mother said. This time she hurried into the kitchen and returned with a tray.

  She generously covered the coffee table with snacks, her favorites: roast melon seed, fried shrimp chips, pig-fat sweet cake, egg tart; and my favorites: Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut milk chocolate, peanuts coated with fried fish skin, and preserved plums. To my surprise, she even brought out a dozen of my adored ginger flowers.

  “To purify the air for relaxation,” she said as she inhaled deeply from the velvety white petals.

  “Ma-” I felt tenderness swelling inside. “Thanks for preparing all these.”

  Mother chuckled. “Ha, don’t think that your mother is stupid. I’m not. You think I won’t realize that after all, gweilo or not gweilo, you’re getting married?”