The way Henry sways to the music sets my mind and body spinning. He sings so well, it blows my mind. I think of the gorgeous video he created for me before I arrived, the care he took to make sure I arrived safely at my apartment, the kindness he showed in introducing me to his friends and classmates, his impressive creativity, the way he took charge of the eco-fashion panel with his commanding presence, and the vulnerability he showed in opening up about his father.
He holds my gaze. The alcohol is making me lose my inhibitions. I begin to dance beside to the sofa. Masha dims the lights and encourages me to take off my shoes. All three of us sing along with Henry, dancing in the Purple Rain.
After an impressive finish, Henry takes a bow, and my two new female friends lift their beers high above their heads. Henry walks past them toward me.
“So what did you think?”
“It was stupendous.”
He grins. My knees go weak.
I take a last sip of my beer and tell everyone that I need to leave. I’m facing a slippery slope. I can feel my resolve melting and my attraction growing by the minute.
Henry follows me out the door and into the street. “Why are you leaving so soon? I organized this whole night just for you …”
I just stare at him blankly. What am I doing? Guilt washes over me. Did I purposely create distance from Jonathan to make room for this? Or was it the other way around — did Jonathan push me away? If I did it, then what’s wrong with me?
I put my hands over my face, unable to look at Henry. He removes my hands slowly, places his hands on my cheeks, and looks at me for a long moment. A scooter rushes past us and hits the curb, sending me sprawling into Henry’s arms. I linger there for a moment, then he kisses me, right there in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the KTV bar. My blood is pumping fast. I let myself melt in his arms, feeling both elated and conflicted. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but delicious at the same time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I OPEN MY EYES, then shut them again. Sunlight is peering through my bedroom blinds, but I can’t face the day just yet. I try to brush away the memory of last night, but I can’t. I feel elated, ashamed, and confused. Nothing makes sense.
I stretch out my arms, jump out of bed, and go to the window. As I look out over the plane trees, I see people strolling through the park and a young couple kissing on a bench below. Shanghai really is the Paris of the East, inspiring romance all around.
I remember Sandra’s words. You will know. You will just know.
But the truth is, I just don’t know.
I shower. Usually, I get strong insights under the flowing hot water, but not today. All I can think about is Henry, Prince, and “Purple Rain.” My mind wanders back to the kiss and how painful it was to extricate myself from, because it was, well, so damn good. I did manage to pull away when a taxi stopped in front of us. Henry tried to pull me back toward him, but I just had to go. And now I’m swimming in remorse.
I put on a bright-yellow peasant blouse with pink and blue embroidered flowers and a pair of flowy paisley pants. After a quick breakfast, I decide to write a post for Bonjour Girl. It’s time to get back to blogging more consistently. It’ll help me get my mind off of things, at least for a while.
Brian’s advice about thinking outside the box keeps replaying in the back of my mind, and so does Henry’s. Maybe they’re both right: I should be more open to other people’s suggestions. What thought-provoking local topic could I write about? What would my friends back home like to read about?
After staring out the window for a few more minutes, I get a flash of an idea. What about a New York vs. Shanghai story, comparing and contrasting the two different cultures and their fashion styles? Shanghai fashionistas are quickly becoming much bolder in the way they dress. It’s all very exciting. It would be fun to highlight these differences.
I begin by looking at pictures on my phone of young women in New York, including some of the highly colourful characters I’ve come across on my many afternoon walks in Central Park. My favourite pastime is checking out and taking pictures of cool streetwear. That’s where I find the best style inspiration, both for myself and for my blog.
One photo catches my eye: a young woman dressed in black with high platform shoes, purple leggings, and matching hair. In another, a young couple with lavender and pink hair stroll arm in arm. They’re wearing pastel colours — yellow shorts, striped pink shirts, and lime-green socks — and looking like a double scoop of sorbet. They were a sight to behold. I draft some commentary about each of the photographs.
I find another picture on my phone that I’d almost forgotten about. It’s a selfie I took with the young woman I met in the women’s change room at the Song Liung boutique. She was trying on this magnificent dress by Victoire & Sophie, a famous Parisian designer. After we exchanged pleasantries and took our picture together, Henry told me that the French designer is planning a runway show in Shanghai in a few weeks. It’s going to be a mega multimillion-dollar production, with tons of local celebrities, media, and fashionistas. He also suggested that I might get invited to the event if I post something about them on Bonjour Girl with links to their page.
I’ve heard of this label. I’ve also read about how one of the designers has a reputation for being gauche on social media, so I’m a little hesitant to post anything about their work, but since both Brian and Henry have suggested linking to designers on my blog, and because that woman’s dress really was spectacular, I decide to hop on the bandwagon and promote their upcoming presence in Shanghai. I send an email to the head of their marketing team in Paris to see if they’d be willing to pay me for affiliated links and draft a caption for the photo so I can add it to my post.
Then I add some photos from my shopping trip with Henry, including one of Mark at Song Liung and one of Julia and Ting at Annata, and write some text about them, too, discussing how the cultures of New York and Shanghai appreciate each other’s style of dress.
I notice a notification on my phone. It’s Henry on WeChat, wondering if I have time to meet up. Remorse bubbles up to the surface. I wish that kiss had never happened — I don’t want to lose him as a friend. That would be a major loss. I ignore his message for now. I’m in the middle of writing. And one thing I know for sure is that when you discover your passion and purpose, it’s like being in love. Nothing and no one can distract you from the object of your professional affection, even when your mind is still buzzing.
I’m knee-deep in a homework session when my phone vibrates. Wei has sent us a writing assignment about digital media, and I’m determined to do a good job. Actually, stellar is what I’m aiming for. I’d love to be published on her website. That would be terrific for my visibility and my resumé, not to mention do wonders for my bruised ego. I heard back at last from the French design company agreeing to make me an affiliate, so I was able to publish my blog post with all those great photos, but all this stuff with Henry is making it really hard to concentrate. I look at my phone — it’s Jake. It’s three in the morning in New York. I text him back.
FaceTime?
Sure. Lemme jump on.
Meet you there in five.
I run to the bathroom and pour myself a glass of cold water before our chat. I just hope Jake has some good news.
I log on to FaceTime, and relief washes over me as soon as I see his face.
He’s wearing his signature hipster glasses and a funny baseball cap with the words I Don’t Givenchy a Duck. He’s sipping iced coffee through a straw, so I guess all is not so bad in the world. I let out a loud sigh of relief.
“I’m so happy you reached out. I need to talk.”
“Oh? What about, dearest one?”
“Henry kissed me.”
“Well, I knew that was coming.…Was it good?”
“Hmm … yes.”
“Did you kiss him back?”
“Yes. It happened so quickly …”
“You’re in major trouble now, sister.”<
br />
“I know. I feel really, really shitty about it. I can’t believe I let it happen. I’m a bad person and I definitely don’t deserve to have a boyfriend.”
“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together,” he quotes between sips of his iced coffee. “Marilyn Monroe,” he adds.
He must recognize the look of panic on my face. I don’t want things to fall apart.
“Listen, just play it cool, kiddo,” he says. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, all right?”
“I don’t know what to do. Should I tell Jonathan?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not right now. He’s under enough stress as it is. I’m afraid you’ll kill the poor guy. Wait until things get resolved in your head and in your heart.”
“I feel especially weird about it after Henry’s big announcement yesterday.”
“What announcement?”
“He’s launching a new blog about eco-fashion. It was really strange, the way it all came about.”
“Is he copying you?”
“I don’t think so …”
“Whoa, Clem. This guy sounds unpredictable. Maybe that’s why you’re so attracted to him, he keeps you on your toes.”
“Could be.”
“Things will play out the way they should. Give it some time.”
“Right … What about you? Any dates?”
“Oh, a few nocturnal exchanges with a few guys, nothing worth talking about.”
“And what else is happening? Are you okay?”
He looks away, then lifts his glasses and wipes away a tear. For the first time since we’ve logged on, I notice that his complexion is pale and drawn, as though he’s lost weight, which is definitely worth worrying about.
In typical Jake fashion, he tries to put on a brave face.
“Things are rough. I’m still in the red, and those thugs keep harassing me. That’s why I keep my phone shut off. They’ve been calling me day and night. It’s a fricking nightmare. I can’t sleep, Clem. All I think about is them coming over and finishing me off.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Um, have you seen The Godfather?”
“Come on, stop it.”
“That’s what these people do, Clem. They’re evil.”
I don’t realize I’ve gone silent until Jake’s voice booms through the computer. “What are you thinking, Clem? That I’m a big fat loser?”
“Stop that! You’re not a loser. You’re one of the most inspiring people I know, okay? Don’t get down on yourself like that. And you’re not fat. You’ve lost weight — and you need to stop that, too.”
This shakes him up a bit, and he gives me a tearful smile. He doesn’t do skinny — he’s all about that bass. And every inch of him is what makes him so adorable.
“I just need to get out of this funk. I’m working on it. Don’t give up on me, okay?”
“Never.”
“So can you tell me about some more local street food? That’ll help build up my appetite.”
“Yes, of course. Let’s see … Well, river crabs are a big part of Shanghai’s food scene, but since they’re only available seasonally, crab shell pies are all the rage here. They’re crispy buns filled with savoury ingredients, very yummy.”
“Thanks, love. I feel better already. And famished.” He takes a deep breath, like he’s gearing up to say something important. “So … Ellie talked to me and helped me realize I have an actual problem … She took me to one of those anonymous group meetings.”
I can’t believe I ever thought badly of Ellie, once upon a time. She’s a heaven-sent angel.
“And?”
“It was eye-opening. It’s tough to admit that you have an addiction, Clem. I feel broken.” He begins to cry. My heart aches for him. Jake’s one of the most authentic, big-hearted people I know. I shed tears, too, as I watch him weep.
“Listen, you’re not broken, okay? The important thing is to manage it, heal, and recover. You have a brilliant fashion career ahead of you — you can’t let this gambling problem get in the way of that. There’s far too much at stake. These meetings will help you get better, I just know it.”
He lifts his head and smiles again, wiping the tears from his cheeks. I see hope flare in his eyes. “All right, got it. Thank you, ma’am!”
“Now why don’t you get back to that sewing machine, where you belong?”
“Okay, okay. I got it. I’ll get cracking first thing in the morning. For you, Bonjour Girl, I’d do anything.”
“Same here.”
“All right, gotta go. I have a mission to accomplish.”
“Love you, Jake!”
“Me, too, love. Mwah!” He puckers his lips and kisses the screen. I do the same and then sign off, my heart full of optimism.
I’m about to head back to my desk, where I’ll likely be working for the rest of the afternoon and into the night, when the doorbell rings. Surprised, I look through the peephole and see a delivery man holding a towering bouquet of flowers. Oh my. I already know who they’re from. My heart does somersaults. The flowers are drop-dead gorgeous. I thank the delivery man and bring them inside. I’m tempted to call Jake right back to tell him about this surprise delivery, but think better of it. He needs his sleep.
I pull out a vase from the kitchen and admire the variety: irises, roses, and white lilies. I inhale their sublime aroma. I’m flattered by Henry’s thoughtful gesture. I open the little envelope that accompanies the flowers and read the note.
I hope this will help dispel any doubts you have about me …
I smell the flowers again. The truth is, I’m not sure that it does dispel my doubts. I head back to my computer and my writing project, while the delicious floral aroma still emanates from the bouquet. I have to try to forget about what happened with Henry and focus on what I was made to do. After all, if that advice is good enough for Jake, it’s good enough for me, too.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I HAVE A HUGE GRIN on my face as I reread the piece for Wei’s class that I finished last night. I was up really late finishing it, then I slept through most of the morning. Unfortunately, my good feeling doesn’t last long. I brew some tea, turn on my phone, and log in to WeChat.
The screen is blank except for a message: Your account has been suspended.
Holy merde.
My mouth goes dry. My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. I can hardly breathe. My hand flies to my mouth and I knock over my cup, spilling tea onto my desk and my laptop. Has my account been shut down? I’ve worked so hard to build my page in China — I have tens of thousands of followers! Merde! What on earth is going on?
I wipe the laptop dry and use it to log in to my account. It doesn’t work there, either.
I have a nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach, an icy cold feeling that tells me something is wrong, colossally wrong. But what? Was I hacked? Did I do something?
I begin to pace frantically. This can’t be happening. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it’s bad, like really bad.
I need some answers. I begin to fidget, imagining worst-case scenarios.
I follow WeChat’s prescribed troubleshooting protocol to no avail, then try searching online to find out what could be happening. Maybe it’s a simple glitch or a misunderstanding.
Or maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m a non-resident of this country. Something about local internet restrictions? I wish I could call Jonathan to tell him what’s happening, but he’s still shutting me out. Besides, the reason he won’t talk to me is he thinks I’m involved with Henry … and I can hardly deny that anymore. I’m riddled with guilt over the kiss. I want to be open, to tell Jonathan everything so we can move beyond this. But now’s not the time.
I try to focus on solutions, not the problem, but I’m getting more frantic by the minute. Just when I’m about to lose it, I get a text from Jake.
What happened to your
WeChat account?
No idea! I think
it was shut down
Whaaat? Just like that?
Yup. Trying not to freak out
Let me look this up and get back to you, see what I can find out
I’m trying my best to keep it together. What have I done wrong?
Thanks, Jake. I really appreciate your help
My pleasure, Clem. Always happy to help
After running various scenarios through my mind about how to deal with the situation, I finally muster the courage to call Henry. I need to face him like an adult.
“Hey, can we talk?”
“Sure. Is this about me kissing you or your social media crisis?”
I let out a dry cough, and there’s a long, awkward silence. He knows about my account being shut down. That’s embarrassing.
“Um, both. We really need to chat.”
“Okay, I’m all ears.”
“Not over the phone. Let’s meet in person.”
“Where?”
“The Wild Insect Kingdom?”
“I thought you said you hated insects?”
“I had a change of heart. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I EXIT THE SUBWAY station closest to the Wild Insect Kingdom. I walk quickly in my blue suede boots, vintage flowered dress, and pink motorcycle jacket. My hair is stacked up on top of my head in a high chignon, the style I’ve been wearing since I got here. I like it that way — it helps to keep my neck cool, especially when I’m feeling hot under the collar.
There are pedestrians and cars zooming everywhere. The exhaust fumes make me feel even dizzier than I was feeling already.
I wonder if anyone on the street will recognize me — Bonjour Girl: the disgraced blogger — and point me out. I’m no novice when it comes to facing online issues, but being in a different country without my tribe sends my insecurity skyrocketing. I just wish I had some idea what’s going on.
I walk past a lovely square where a group of older people are dancing in sync to music coming from an old boombox. I stop for a moment, entranced by the beauty of this scene, where time seems to stand still. Couples are ballroom dancing in the middle of the city, looking as though they have no cares in the world. The idea of growing old with someone you love, who has your best interests at heart and wants to spend afternoons dancing in the park with you, is so romantic to me. And at the same time it’s so foreign — my parents’ marriage was nothing like that. But, deep down, it’s what I yearn for. I just need to stop whatever it is in me that pushes love away. I’ve become a master at it, or so it seems. I miss Jonathan more than ever. I need to clear things up with Henry. It’s the right thing to do.
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