by Lucy Yam
Shouts and cries were heard in the midst of the storm.
“Good heavens!” Nobul exclaimed and she turned to look at him. He was dressing up quickly.
“What happened?” She jumped to the window. In the grey mist of rain, a boat was rocking violently in the lake. From the passenger’s orange floatation suits she knew they were tourists.
“Boat ride in such weather?” she cried, “Nuts!”
“Must be some adventure-seeking city youth.” He said.
“What’re you going to do?” she felt smothered by fear. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I can’t stand and watch,” he said calmly, “besides, there might be a bride waiting for me in that boat.”
She knew he was trying to hurt her but she was too consumed by worries to respond to that sarcastic comment. She bit her lip.
Not until he had left the room she made her resolution. Quickly dressed up she dashed out of the room.
He was starting the engine of the motorboat when she went to the shore.
“What’re you doing? You’re not coming with me.”
“I am.” She jumped on the boat before it pulled away.
He shook his head and sighed heavily, “Goddess sent you to punish me.”
Chapter 14
Sharon couldn’t believe it was the same lake that she had fallen in love with for the past month. The piece of serene sapphire was nowhere in sight. Instead, surrounding them was a herd of furious animals made of water, they roared and churned, and jumped with unpredictable might. Perhaps the rain and the wind had aroused the water spirits lying dormant on sunny days.
The motorboat swayed in turbulence. Water splashed on to the boat and onto their bodies. Before long both of them were drenched. But they had greater worries. The sight-seeing boat was hit badly by the waves. While they were approaching, the wave snatched one of the oars from a rower and the one oar left could barely keep the boat in balance, no mention moving forward. The caprice of the waves made it hard for the motorboat to get to them. The closing up distance between them was soon widened by a whip of wave. Nobul, standing at the edge of the boat, threw a rope towards the tourists again and again, but they couldn’t catch it. The desperate shouts and hysteric screams of the boaters were swallowed by the roaring of the lake. Sharon saw hands waving and body rocking frantically but all she could do was to watch. There were times the motorboat was swallowed by water. Sharon was drenched before long and thought they would drown before saving others. It was cold and she could hear her teeth grinding. The fog had blocked the view of mountains and the lake at that moment appeared to be the whole space, with unfathomable end.
She must have passed out during the endless chase, which must have lasted for over an hour. Suddenly when Sharon opened her eyes they were inches away from the wooden boat. The sightseers extended their arms frantically. There were four of them on board, two young men and two young women, and none of them were Moso. Nobul got hold of the oar and used it to pull the wooden boat closer. Sharon caught the hand of a young woman and pulled her to the motorboat. They pulled the other woman and a man on board and were going for the last guy when another wave hit them. They lost their grip and the guy was swept into the lake. In an instant he was meters away. Without a word Nobul dived into the lake and swam after him.
The moment he jumped into the lake Sharon’s heart sank to her toe. Shivering, she stared into the curtains of rain that blocked her from following him further. The couple huddled each other while the other young woman went to Sharon and held her hand. No one spoke a word while waiting for signs of human to come into sight.
Sharon understood suddenly how Nobul must have felt the night of her attempted escape. The two situations were frighteningly similar. Last time Nobul had hurt her before the event, and this time, she had hurt him. She clenched her fist tightly. What a cold hearted bitch she had been to refuse his proposal like that! Why didn’t she say something like “I’ll think about it?” How bad would it be to lie in order not to hurt? Now, what if something happened to him? What if he died?
Sharon closed her eyes and whispered in the sound of the rain, “Please Goddess Gemu, Don’t let Nobul die. I’ll do anything if you let him live. I’ll, I’ll marry him.”
The goddess must have heard her. For as soon as her prayer ended there emerged two human heads from the water. When they got close one was pushed high up by the other. And the four of them went ahead to grab the body, which was the last guy on the boat.
When they were placing him on the boat Nobul climbed up, before Sharon could give him a hand, he had swung himself heavily on board.
“Are you ok?” She ran to him. He was pale and his arm was bleeding.
“I’m ok. Some insidious rock got me.” He cursed and went to the cabin.
Sharon went after him. He had taken off his shirt and was tearing up a strip.
“Let me help you.” She said and took the strip. Her stomach cramped in the sight of the wound. The gush was deep and long, it ran from his elbow to his shoulder. He must have free-stroked right on it. She wound the strip tightly around his arm. Holding tears back.
When she was done she said softly, “I know how to steer. Why don’t you rest?”
“I’m ok.”
“No you’re not!” She pushed him away and got hold of the steering wheel. Nobul laid down on the floor next to her.
Nobul was right about the group of sightseers. They were reckless young men from the city. They thought it would be romantic to take have a boat ride in the rain, not expecting the turbulent mood of the lake. They were now like guilty children, hanging their heads to reflect on the horrible experience as they sat in the kitchen next to the fire, and drinking hot tea that Sharon had made them.
While the group was drinking tea silently, Sharon went upstairs to see Nobul, who had refused to speak to her after they had returned. He was asleep in the couch, in his wet clothes. He must have been exhausted, Sharon thought with heartache as she gazed at his weary but still handsome face. She was about to remove his shirt when he groaned, “I’ll do it myself.”
“Why? Let me do it for you.”
“No,” he pushed her with his elbow.
“Ok,” she backed up.
He struggled to sit up and took off his clothes.
“Do you have clean bandages and iodine?”
“No, and I don’t need them.”
“What do you mean you don’t need them? You might get infection like this.”
“Don’t know what infection is,” he said, “I grew up a wild mountain child. Cuts and wounds are everyday life.”
“Oh really?” she said playfully, “Seems to me not long ago you were scared over the scraping on my palm.”
“You and I are different,” he said crossly, “I’m a mountain goat, and you’re a house kitten.”
Sharon wasn’t happy at the analogy but she didn’t retort. She dreaded what he would say next, and he did. “That’s why I can’t have you.”
She bit her tongue to fight her heartache and went searching in her own suitcase. She found some anti-bacterial ointment. This would do. She thought, at least for now. Once the storm receded, she would take him to Shagari-La. Charlene’s medical box had everything they needed to treat his wound. Then she cut a strip off her clean t-shirt. When she was cleaning his wound with a wet towel he asked, “What’re the idiots doing?”
“They’re having tea in the kitchen. Don’t call them idiots.” She said, feeling sorry for the young people, who were at least repentant.
“Then how should I call them? Goddess’ gifts?”
“Not right either. There isn’t nay potential bride for you. They are pairs.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t have a chance. Those two guys are whims. They couldn’t have saved themselves, no mention their girlfriends.”
His arrogant remark annoyed her. She applied the ointment with a considerable force to make him groan, loudly.
She laughed, “I see, a hero whine
s too.”
“You tricky little mouse!”
“Oh, so I’m a kitten and a mouse, and I’m not your goddess anymore?” She wound the strip over his arm tightly.
“Please, my goddess, have mercy. It… hurts.”
She smiled triumphantly, “no wonder they say if you know a man’s wound, you can lead him by the nose.”
While he was growling she teased him, “I say, that group of people is a gift for me.”
“You’re a wicked one.”
“It’s all your fault. A woman has to learn to be wicked before she can be a wife.”
His eyes beamed, “Say that again?”
“No.”
“I heard you. You said you were going to be a wife. To be my wife!”
He grabbed her while groaning with pain. Then he kissed her hard.
“When did you change your mind?” He asked.
“I thought you were going to die.” She blurted out and regretted immediately.
The flames in his eyes dwindled. “You felt sorry.”
“No, that’s not how. I realized that I didn’t want to lose you.”
“That’s a lie. Let me guess the truth. You prayed and made the promise that you would marry me if I lived.”
“How did you know?” A mistake again. She bit her tongue.
He sighed. “Because I did the same when I was looking for you the other night. I promised to Goddess that I would be your slave if I found you.”
“Then you must fulfill your promise. You must be my slave for the rest of my life.”
He shook his head, “Not against your will.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is. The place is a paradise for me, but it might be a prison to you. Guess it’s incomparable to the paradise waiting for you on the other side of the ocean.”
When did he have time to think of all these? While chasing the boat? She shook her head at the fast change.
“Here it is a paradise for me too,” she said.
“Can you say the same thing ten years from now? A year from now?”
She hesitated.
He forced a smile. “I don’t need your pity.”
“What does it matter how I feel in ten years? That’s how I feel now.’
“Now leave me alone. I’m tired.”
He lay down and closed his eyes.
Sharon stood frozen. Tears streamed down her cheeks. A rope that had been tossed to them by the Goddess had slipped from her hands.
“Idiot!” She whispered.
“Who? You or me?” he said lazily.
She threw the towel on his face and started to pack.
It didn’t matter whether the storm was over. She would get out of here tonight. She would take the group of tourists with her and leave this conceited beast.
Towards midnight the stormed finally died down. But the tourists have second thoughts. They decided to stay in the living room for the night. While Nobul was sleeping, Sharon left the island alone on the boat.
Charlene was surprised to see her. “I thought you wouldn’t come back until tomorrow. Is everything all right? Where is Nobul?”
“Sleeping in the island.”
“What a jerk! Letting you come back alone!”
“He didn’t know. Don’t call him a jerk... Call him an idiot.”
Charlene wanted to laugh but seeing her sister’s solemn expression she held her urge. “OK, what did that idiot do?”
“He proposed to me.”
“He did? And what did you say?”
“I said yes, sort of.”
“Sort of? What do you mean?”
“I said yes, but mot until too late.”
“So he changed his mind?”
“Not really. He didn’t believe that I really wanted it.”
“Do you want it?”
“I don’t know. You know I was always afraid of marriage. I was appalled by our parents’ marriage and I didn’t want to be anyone’ slave. So I refused at first. And then I thought he was going to die and I changed my mind. It was just as well he didn’t believe me. I don’t either. Now I’m leaving. Don’t stare at me like that, sis, say something.”
“Are you sure, Sharon?” It took Charlene a moment to really understand what had happened between her sister and Nobul. “You should take some time and think it over!”
“No, it won’t be necessary.”
Chapter 15
“This is paradise!” The taxi driver, a chatty middle age Russian man, exclaimed as he turned into Fleur Dr.
He hadn’t been in the U.S. for long, and wasn’t good at finding his way east of downtown LA. Sharon had to direct him as soon as they got off freeway 110.
“You haven’t been to the real paradise,” Sharon said wearily, “if you had you wouldn’t say that.”
The taxi driver laughed, “You’re right about that, Miss, and I don’t look forward to it yet.”
Sharon apologized, “Oh I don’t mean that. I mean…never mind.”
If she told him that she had just returned from the real paradise, he would probably laugh harder. For who in his right mind would leave a real paradise, and return to a fake one? Look at all the carefully trimmed shrubs and lawns, and painstakingly arranged flowerbeds, she couldn’t help but miss the dense pine forests that covered the slopes of Lugu Lake mountains, the fiercely blooming rhododendron bushes in the valleys, and the untended meadow of the Island. The setting sun threw a surreal light on the empty verandas, shining French windows, and brick driveways, and made her feel that everything was out of a stage set. That she was taking a tour in Universal City. Not a soul was seen in a yard, and theirs was the only car on the street, even though it was about six in the afternoon. She felt not a spark of excitement that a traveler returning home would feel.
What’s the matter with her? She used to love this neighborhood. She had always felt content and proud of her privilege of living in San Marino. She and her mother used to take walks over the weekends around the blocks, and Charlene would join them if she was home from school. The streets were beautiful back then. But not any more. Why? What had changed and when? She looked back and couldn’t find the answer. In fact she had ceased to notice the streets all together ever since she had lived here alone. Charlene would be home no more than a month a year. And Sharon would rather going to the gym than taking walks in the neighborhood and declaring how lonely she was.
The quiet streets depressed her and she longed to shut herself in her house, but the taxi was going about 5mph. Naturally cars slowed down in the area, some drivers were in awe of the nice neighborhood, others were confused about the directions as the streets in San Marino were like a big maze. The taxi driver had both reasons. He was looking at each house with curiosity and admiration. “My goodness, and I thought Hollywood Hills would be a great place to live.”
When he dropped her off, he offered to take her luggage onto her porch. And he lingered awhile to look at the yard which he regarded as a park. He looked at the house and said it was the size of the apartment building in Hollywood where he lived. You should have seen the Empress House, Sharon wanted to say. And this yard, which usually took the gardener a whole morning to mow and to trim, was so pitifully small in her eyes, as she was comparing it to the hilltop of Empress Island. The driver was looking up at the cedar in the yard which reminded Sharon the pines forest in the back of the Empress House, where Nobul and her often took walks after dinner … Sharon wanted to cry, but the taxi driver kept asking her questions.
“Do you live here alone?” The dreadful question rang in the air.
“No! Of course not!” Sharon said quickly, “I have a big family. My dad, my mom, my sister, my grandmother, my uncle, aunt, my cousin, they all live here.” Sharon’s voice trailed off and she avoided the driver’s eyes. It was a lie that a five year old could see through. How come no one came running out of the door to welcome you? Would be the next question the five year old would ask. But driver was either very dumb or not hopelessly rude. He
nodded and said, “Big family indeed!” Sharon wouldn’t mind letting him take a walk in the yard on a normal day but today she was simply exhausted. She tipped him generously and waited patiently for him to leave. And after he had left, she dragged the two heavy suitcases of Charlene’s books into the living room, threw her shoulder bag on the floor, and lay on the sofa.
The taxi driver was right, the house was big, Sharon thought dreadfully, her bedroom was second floor, and so was her bathroom. What she really needed was a hot bath and then she would sleep. But she didn’t feel like moving an inch. She stared at the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, and the corridor at the end of the living room that led to the East Wing of the house, which overlooked the rose garden and where her father would spend his mornings reading newspapers before he went to work. She wondered whether he was keeping that habit of his. She had to call him. She hadn’t had a chance to call him before going to China, and hadn’t bothered to call when she was there. He might be worried…Nay, he wouldn’t. He would be too busy playing with his twin sons and doting on his new wife. He wouldn’t care whether she was dead or alive. Damn it! What were all these silly sentiments about? She had never been like this! She had never missed her old man for as long as she remembered things. She had always been happy about living alone. She didn’t care about a family. It might have been the jetlag. Yes, it must have been.
She got up from the sofa all of a sudden and went upstairs to her bathroom. The jasmine scent welcome her and brought her back to her old life in an instant. “Well, it’s good to be back!” Sharon muttered to her reflection in the mirror cheerfully, ready to put the memories of the past weeks behind her. She filled the bathtub with hot water and dissolved a pack of lavender bath salt before she sank in.