I make my way inside the Wild Insect Kingdom. It looks a bit tacky, not to mention creepy. The entrance area is confusing, with giant figurines of popular cartoon characters. I’m not sure how they relate to insects, but who am I to criticize their branding strategy? Part of mine just got completely removed from the internet.
After paying the entrance fee, I look at my watch. I have a solid fifteen minutes before I meet Henry, so I decide to walk around, mostly to distract myself.
Seeing young children running about playfully puts a smile on my face. I think back to when I last felt that carefree. It feels like ages ago. Going to college makes you grow up fast. Now I understand why I wanted to come here. Being close to nature forces me to look at the bigger picture; in the grand spectrum of life and the universe and the internet, my blog is just a speck of dust. I’ll survive this.
I head straight for the butterfly section. They’re fascinating creatures, the way they travel and migrate and, most remarkably, transform into spectacular beauties.
I like to think that I’ve also undergone a massive transformation in the last year or so, from an insecure teenager to a more mature young woman with her feet on the ground. I’m proud of my accomplishments, of trying to show a different side of fashion. It’s too bad my efforts are being hindered.
I move on to a different section, where bees are buzzing about. I’ve read that in China, the bee symbolizes vocational advancement. How ironic, given the situation I’m in. I try to look on the bright side: bees also represent sweetness, abundance, and opportunity. And in every major challenge, there’s an opportunity for growth.
I walk back toward the entrance and see Henry sitting on a large rock in the far corner. He’s lost in thought.
“Hi, Henry.” I take a seat next to him, resting my blue suede boots on the fake moss that covers the floor.
“Hey.” He looks at me and then looks down at his shoes. He seems to be at a loss for words. I feel the same way, but I find the courage to speak up first.
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous. And thanks for meeting me. I know you’re really busy with school and stuff.”
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Are you talking about my WeChat account or the kiss?”
“I’m sure you’re more concerned about your online presence than me kissing you.”
“Both have been on my mind, actually.”
“I feel like a bloody fool.” He runs his fingers through his hair.
“Don’t worry about the kiss, okay? I’m flattered. But it can’t continue. I have a boyfriend. I love Jonathan, and I miss him. A lot.”
He sighs loudly and crosses his arms. This conversation is making us both uncomfortable.
“Right. That’s not exactly what I hoped to hear, but I had a feeling that’s what you’d say.”
“We can still be friends, can’t we?”
He looks away. “I don’t know …”
“Come on, Henry, we have lots in common, we like to hang out, and we’ve shared some pretty personal stuff.”
“I know. I wish I could pretend nothing’s changed, but I just don’t think I can.”
I can hear crickets in the background.
Henry stands up, takes my hands in his, and pulls me up off the rock. He moves in close. “Are you sure we can’t try to make this work?”
I can’t believe he’s doing this. I really thought he’d understand. “No, Henry, don’t.” I push away from him.
“But —”
“No, I have to go.” I turn my back on him.
“Clementine, there’s something else I need to tell you —”
I feel his hand on my shoulder, but quickly slide out of his reach. “Forget it!”
As I storm off, I hear him say something about my blog, but I’m too upset to turn back. I rush out of the Wild Insect Kingdom, feeling more like a squished bug than a butterfly.
On my way home, I come across a street vendor selling giant teddy bears. These are all over the city; vendors wheel around racks of almost life-sized bears, and you can buy them pretty much anytime and anywhere, including in the middle of the night, in bars and in nightclubs. Nothing oozes love like a bear nearly as big as you are.
I consider buying one. It would temporarily fill the void in my heart and bring me the comfort I crave. But I decide against it. My down comforter and flannel PJs will do for now.
Chapter Thirty
IT’S NEARLY DARK when I arrive at Sandra’s apartment. After leaving the Wild Insect Kingdom, I went for a long walk to get some perspective. At first, being close to nature and animals soothed me, but now it’s brought out a primal part of me instead. I went back to my apartment and tried to work for a few hours, but I just couldn’t. I finally called Sandra, and she invited me over.
I generally try not to bite my nails, but times of crisis like these bring out my worst habits. As I chew on the blue sparkles at the tips of my fingers, I think of my WeChat account and all the months I spent building it, picture by picture, post by post — and I feel furious. I start in on the other hand as I chew over how badly things went with Henry. I can’t deal with any more tension right now, I just can’t.
I am so glad Sandra invited me over. I just know she’s the right person to talk to. Thank god she responded to my SOS.
Her high-rise building, located in the Jing’an neighbourhood, is very swanky. The doorman calls up to announce my arrival, then waves me in. He’s grinning and nodding and making friendly gestures as though I’m family. I’m not sure what she said to him over the intercom — maybe something like what she said on the plane, that I was like a daughter to her? The thought of it warms my heart.
I ride up the tall windowed elevators, and my breath nearly stops when I catch the spectacular views of the city below. The sea of bright lights, the majestic river, and the futuristic cityscape are almost surreal. The scenery lifts my mood as the elevator takes me higher and higher.
I just need to find the strength to face my challenges head on.
I knock on Sandra’s door and hear footsteps. I already start to relax, reassured that someone mature, loving, and kind is coming to my rescue.
“Hello, dear Clementine! Please, come in. I’ve made some tea.” Sandra looks comfortable in a blue V-neck sweater, lounge pants, and beige slippers. “Let me get your coat.”
I hand over my motorcycle jacket and she looks at it with a glint in her eye. I wonder if she would have worn something like it in her younger days.
I follow her down the narrow hallway decorated with antique rugs and blue and white vases holding branches covered in blooming cherry blossoms. We pass a room filled with contemporary art and the sweet smell of jasmine. There are books everywhere: paperbacks, rare editions, and coffee table books on art, design, and home decor. Her collection makes me drool.
“All right, I’m ready to move in!” I say, joking to try to lighten my troubled mood.
Sandra laughs and gives me a curious look. She probably thinks she’d like the company. But not in the state I’m in, she wouldn’t.
We make our way to a sitting area where a silver tea set is waiting. A painting on the far wall catches my eye. It’s a portrait of Sandra when she was younger. In it, she’s very attractive with her red lips and dreamy eyes.
“Wow, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you. My father had it commissioned after I graduated from college. He was so proud.”
This gives me goosebumps. I look at her with much admiration. Sandra is grand. Sandra is solid. Sandra is wise, and she’s supremely romantic. I want to be like her when I grow up. But more importantly, Sandra gives me hope, something I need right now.
“And your apartment is stunning. It could be a set for a film.”
“Horror or romance?” she shoots back wryly.
“Romance, of course!” We both laugh at that.
“Thank you. I had an apartment in Hong Kong, but I sold it and bought this place when I decided to li
ve here part-time, so I could be closer to my brother and his kids. And now to my sister, who’s in the hospital. It does the trick nicely.”
“Yes, I’d say so,” I say, admiring the beautiful paintings on the walls. “It must make you so happy to look at these.”
“Yes, very happy. This is where I spend my mornings. I like to read, reflect, and gaze at the art.”
“Reflection is a good thing. I could use some of that right now,” I say, staring into my cup of tea.
She pats me on the shoulder gently. “You’re in the right place. I call this my reflecting room.”
She offers me some cookies on a plate, but I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ve kind of lost my appetite after today.”
“Oh? Something about the young man who was waiting for you at the airport?”
“Henry. Well, yes and no. He kissed me the other night, and I feel terrible about that.”
She takes a long sip of tea, leaving a trace of lipstick on her cup. “Is that so bad?”
“I have a boyfriend in New York, remember? Jonathan.”
“And who is it that truly makes your heart sing?”
“Jonathan. I miss him so much. It was a terrible mistake,” I admit, holding back tears.
“Okay, well, now you know. Focus on the future, not what’s behind you. Consider it a learning experience.”
“You’re right. I just wish he were here so I could tell him how I feel. He’s been avoiding my calls, and I feel terrible.”
“Don’t worry, Clementine. It’ll blow over, for sure. You never told me much about Jonathan. What is it about him that you miss the most?”
“Lots of things: his kindness, his loving presence, his comforting touch, his unconditional support. I also miss his creativity. He’s a very talented photographer.”
“What kind of photography?”
“Portraits, fashion, some corporate work, too.”
“I’ve been asked to help promote a local exhibit on international photography. I’d love to see the type of work that he does. Can you send me some links to his work? Maybe I could get one of his pieces in there at the last minute.”
“Oh, Sandra, that would be amazing. Thank you! I’ll send you his media kit. I’m sure he’ll be very grateful.”
“Now why are you still looking so sad?”
“There’s something else going on. My WeChat account has been suspended.”
“Oh dear. Does this have a big impact on you?”
“As a blogger, pretty major.” I feel tears coming up. “And I’m still in the dark as to why it happened.”
Sandra squeezes my hand like the caring friend I need right now. “Is there any way to fix it?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t really know what else to do …”
“Here, sweetie, let me get you a tissue.” Sandra goes out, and by the time she comes back with a tissue box, I’m a blubbering mess.
“I feel really comfortable talking to you, Sandra. I guess that’s why I’m here.” I blow my nose in a tissue — not the most elegant gesture, but hey, it’s the medicine I need. “I told you that you’re like the mother I wish I had … That’s because my mom has been involved in some un-motherly behaviour in the past.” I blow my nose again.
“That does happen.”
“Yes, it does, but with her, it happened a lot. How often does a typical mother make out with her daughter’s boyfriend while her daughter is in the next room?” I blurt out angrily. It just had to come out. At this point, I don’t care — I need to vent. “But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. She made me promise never to tell my dad, making me an accomplice to her behaviour. And I agreed, just to protect him,” I say, as tears run down my cheeks.
Sandra looks away with a pained expression, as though this is too much to take in. “Oh, Clementine, I’m so sorry. What an awful thing to go through.” She opens her arms and I nestle my head against her chest and sob. Total waterworks. And although I must sound awful, it feels good.
“I know someone who could help you deal with your painful past. Help you heal, open your heart, and make the right decisions.”
“Who?”
She smiles, with a twinkle in her eyes. “A Chinese herbalist.”
I envision myself sitting in an old Chinese apothecary, surrounded by mysterious ingredients and potions. It gives me goosebumps.
“Do you believe in the power of healing therapies like herbs, Clementine?”
“Sure,” I say half-heartedly. I have always wanted to believe in stuff like that. I’m willing to try anything.
“Why don’t you stay over tonight, and we can see him tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great,” I say with a smile. “Thank you so much for being here for me. It means the world.” I blow my nose one last time and decide to try a cookie. It may not be as powerful as ancient Chinese herbs, but it’ll lift my mood. That’ll have to do for now.
Chapter Thirty-One
I ONCE READ a magazine interview with a professional athlete who said that every morning, his dad had him look in the mirror and repeat, “Today is going to be a great day. I can, and I will.”
Reading this made me jealous; I wished my dad had done something like that for me. Now, whenever I’m feeling anxious or insecure, no matter what’s going on, I repeat those same words to myself.
I wake up in the morning, comfortably ensconced in an uber comfortable bed with high-thread-count sheets and designer pillows, surrounded by books, artwork, and fresh flowers, and wearing pyjamas by Olivia von Halle, who apparently once lived in Shanghai. They’re made of the softest silk, with navy and cream stripes, and were apparently inspired by the pyjamas Coco Chanel wore. Like those slightly eccentric pyjama-wearing Shanghai locals, I’d have no problem prancing around town in these sumptuous creations. They make me feel like one of those glamorous Hollywood starlets with a big online following … except that I’ve completely lost mine in Asia, and my life is in shambles.
But I try to forget about it for now. Sandra’s here to support me, and soon some herbalist’s potions will dissolve all my troubles. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I see my cell looming on the dresser next to Sandra’s beautiful bottles of French perfume. There’s also a framed photo of a younger Sandra standing in front of a train with a dashing Asian man behind her. He’s looking away from the camera, but holding her by the waist. Sandra has clearly had more than one big romance, which is not surprising given how warm and magnetic she is.
I pick up my phone. Maybe losing my WeChat account is the best thing that could have happened. I can just call it a day, begin again with a new concept, new title, and new life. Maybe the lesson is that my self-esteem shouldn’t be attached to the number of followers I have, because they can all be taken away in a heartbeat.
I think of Jonathan. I miss his sweet texts and his unshakable support. As I turn on my phone, I’m hoping that I’ll finally have a message from the man I love … and I do.
As soon as the phone powers up, messages flood in from Jonathan, Jake, Maddie, and Henry. My heart is beating fast as I open the first text:
Hi there,
Sorry for being so lame and not writing sooner.
I’ve been in meetings with some pretty difficult people. Lawyers and businessmen who want to tear me down. All this fighting and confrontation is zapping my energy.
I miss you. I miss us. But we both need to focus on our priorities right now. Jake told me about your WeChat situation. I know how hard you’ve been working at it. You’re a star, Clem, and it sounds like somebody or something wants to take you down. Don’t let them. Okay?
It will work out for each of us, and for us.
Stay strong. Let the storm blow over.
I’ll see you on the other side.
J. XO
What a relief to finally hear from him! His message may be a bit distant, but I’ll take this over the silent treatment any day. I’m just happy that he still cares. I can’t wait to go
back to the way things were. And I’m optimistic that we’ll get there.
I read Jake’s message next:
I tried contacting WeChat. No luck, sorry. You can’t let them shut down your account! No, no, no! You need to appeal this and fight for your rights. Do not let this affect your online reputation, okay? You’ve invested way too much time in this! You need to deal with it now!
Jake always makes me smile. He really is supportive of all that I do. What would I ever do without him?
Maddie’s message provides still more support:
Clementine! Jake sent me an email about your WeChat account. So sorry to hear about that. Call me when you have a sec, okay? I’m worried about you! XOXO
There’s a string of texts from Henry that leaves me feeling torn and perplexed:
I’d like to talk to you again. I hope you can forgive me.
Whatever you do, please don’t shut me out, I’m so sorry about everything. You mean a lot to me.
I tried calling last night. Please don’t give me the silent treatment.
There’s something important I need to tell you.
I’m not sure what to do about Henry. Should I talk to him? I’m not sure I want to. At least not yet. I need to let things blow over a bit before I can face him again …
I think about Sandra, her warm hospitality, her kindness, and I decide to put on a brave face for her sake and mine. I type up a short post for my blog telling my readers that my WeChat account was deactivated, and I’m investigating the matter. I assure them that I’ll be back soon.
Bonjour Shanghai Page 16