Beijing Comrades

by Scott E. Myers

  I didn’t have the guts to jump out of the car and follow him, but neither was I willing to turn around and go home. So I sat in my car watching the windows in his building light up one by one as the sun went down, wondering all the while which unit was his. At around eight, two men came out of the building. It was dark at that point, but I could see that one of them was Lan Yu. I was unable to make out the other guy’s face clearly in the darkness, but I could tell he was wearing glasses. He looked a few years older than Lan Yu. Something about him reeked of the intellectual snob type. I gripped the steering wheel and my palms began to sweat.

  The guy with the glasses unlocked his bicycle from the metal bicycle rack in front of the building. He and Lan Yu were standing close to each other, too close, and I even thought—or had I imagined it?—that he reached out and squeezed Lan Yu’s hand before jumping on his bicycle and riding off into the night. Lan Yu stood there for a while, watching him ride away until finally he disappeared, and then went back inside.

  The following day I was a mess. No matter where I went or what I did, Lan Yu occupied my mind entirely. Shirtless, I stood in front of the mirror, shaving as I mentally walked through the reality of the situation. I yearned to see him, but I was too chicken. I kept thinking about the previous day, when we had made eye contact at the expo. What was it I saw in his eyes? Did he hate me? Was he disgusted by me? He seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. He had a job and also, apparently, a boyfriend. The words pulsed through my mind again and again: Leave him alone! He doesn’t need you. I cut myself shaving. “Fuck!” I shouted at the mirror.

  And yet, I reasoned, I have to see him—I need to see him! I stuck a tiny piece of toilet paper to my skin. Then I hatched a plan.

  At five that evening, I drove back to Lan Yu’s workplace at Skytalk. The instant he stepped out of the building, I slammed my foot on the accelerator and drove to his apartment complex, where I stood near the entrance of building number four until the sky was black and it was nearly nine. As I waited in the murky darkness, I thought back to that extraordinary night four years earlier when I sat on the side of the road waiting for Lan Yu to come back from Tian’anmen.

  At last he came home. I fixed my eyes on him as he walked toward the entrance where I stood. Fumbling with a set of keys in his right hand, he held a small leather bag under his left arm. He approached the door and saw me in the darkness.

  “Handong?”

  I stayed planted on the ground, as silent as the moonlight illuminating his face.

  “When did you get here?” he continued. “How did you know I lived here?”

  “I got here a while ago,” I said quietly. All this time I’d wanted nothing more than to talk to him, and here I was with nothing to say.

  “Okay . . . so . . . can I help you with something?” The formal tone of his voice was off-putting, but at least he was speaking.

  “No,” I said awkwardly. “I just—I mean, I wanted to see you.”

  We stood in the dark. A neighbor exited the front door and he and Lan Yu greeted each other. “Hi, hi, have you eaten? Good, good.” When the neighbor walked off, Lan Yu turned to face me, but an awkward silence ensued.

  Finally he spoke. “Well, why don’t you come in?” he said, smiling faintly. I had no idea if he really wanted me to come in or if he was just being polite, but I followed him inside and we made our way upstairs. When we reached the fourth floor, he stopped in front of apartment 419 and unlocked the door. I stepped inside and found myself in a small entry area, where I instinctively took off my shoes. Lan Yu handed me a pair of blue plastic slippers to wear, and I entered the living room. In one corner sat a blue table with chipped paint surrounded by a couple of chairs. In another corner was a couch. To my left and right were two doors, one shut, the other open and leading into a bedroom. At the far end of the living room was a small balcony. Clotheslines hung from the ceiling and a few empty flowerpots sat on the cement floor. Trying to look nonchalant, I peered through the door of the open bedroom: a double bed, two identical writing desks, a bookshelf, and a few empty boxes and suitcases piled up neatly in one corner. The room was small but tidy, and had a kind of Spartan dignity to it.

  I wanted to just come out and ask Lan Yu why he wasn’t living at Tivoli anymore, but decided to phrase the question indirectly. “You rent this place?”

  “Yeah, but I only get these two rooms,” he replied, waving his hand in a circle to indicate the living room and the bedroom on the right. “There’s another guy in the other bedroom.” He pointed toward the closed door on the left.

  “He’s not here?”

  “The landlord says he’s abroad or something. I’m not sure when he’s coming back. Anyway, I was lucky to get this place.”

  We sat in the living room in silence. His movements were stilted and he repeatedly averted his eyes.

  “Would you like something to drink?” He finally broke the silence.

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  He went into the kitchen and returned with two bottles of beer. “This is all I have right now,” he said, giving me a real smile for the first time since seeing me downstairs. He opened one of the bottles, then hesitated. “Oh, right,” he said. “You’re probably driving. I guess you can’t drink.” He put the bottles on the table and walked into the bedroom. When he came back, he had an open pack of cigarettes in his hand.

  “You smoke now?” I asked in disbelief as he handed me the pack. I had never seen him take so much as a puff.

  Lan Yu gave me a sarcastic smile. “You know I’m not prone to addiction,” he said. My heart sank. What was that supposed to mean?

  The cigarettes were apparently someone else’s. I put them on the couch next to me. Lan Yu sat quietly in a chair a few feet away.

  “So . . . you seem to be doing well,” I said.

  “I’m surviving,” he replied. “What’s new? How’s business?” His tone was somewhat mechanical, like a bureaucrat asking questions from a list.

  “Pretty good, thanks.”

  He sighed and looked out the window. “How’s your—I mean, how’s our Ma’s health?” He turned from the window to look at me.

  “She’s great!” I answered, trying to sound chipper.

  This kind of small talk continued until I told him I had to go. “Do you think—I mean, could I have your phone number?” I took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect.

  Lan Yu went into the bedroom and produced a business card from one of the desk drawers. “Page me if you need anything.” He placed the card in my hand.

  We went downstairs, then stopped just inside the front door of the building. He looked like he wanted to say something. “Do you have a kid?” he asked.

  “No.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him I had gotten a divorce. Awkwardly, I mumbled a goodbye and stepped into the night.

  Twenty-Four

  Lan Yu was alive! He was alive and had built a life for himself!

  The last two years of endless fear and anxiety had been a waste of time. I didn’t have to dread the prospect of spending the rest of my days plagued by a guilty conscience any longer. The rediscovery of Lan Yu was my release. I could go back to the life I had before that nagging feeling of culpability had brought me to the brink of annihilation. Back to carefree decadence!

  Lan Yu, on the other hand, had changed. The man I saw at the expo dwelled in the same physical body, but the boy I had once known was gone. There was a time when I would look into his eyes and understand what he was feeling: melancholy, a sense of infatuation, admiration. But now he withheld everything. The esteem in which he had held me was gone, replaced by cynicism, distrust. He was no longer mine.

  I looked at the business card he had given me: Yamato Building Materials Company, Lan Yu, Business Representative. So it was a Japanese company, and the middle-aged man I had seen him with was probably Japanese after all. I no longer cared either way. I gazed out my office window, twirling the card in my hand and wondering what to do next. N
ow that I knew he was alive, did I even need to call him? What did I expect to come of it? Questions like these swirled around in my mind, but before I could answer them I made up my mind to page him. Less than a minute passed and the phone on my desk rang.

  “Wei?” Lan Yu hollered into the phone. “Did somebody page 2345566?” My eyes filled with tears. Lan Yu had dialed my office number nearly every day for four years, and here he was asking who had paged him! I felt betrayed.

  “It’s me, Chen Handong,” I said, deliberately using my full name to create emotional distance. I guess I wanted to punish him for not recognizing my number.

  “Oh . . . What’s up?” he asked curtly.

  “Nothing, I just—”

  “I’m at work.” He interrupted me. “If you want to talk, we can set up a time.”

  A long silence followed. I still wasn’t sure why I had called him, or whether it was a good idea for us to see each other at all. Finally he spoke.

  “Look, why don’t you come over tonight?” An invitation, but not one that was extended with an especially warm voice.

  “Okay, great,” I said, pretending to be oblivious to the cold indifference he was showing me. I hung up the phone, telling myself that tonight would be the only time I’d see him.

  The sun hadn’t quite disappeared into the west when I knocked on Lan Yu’s door. I stepped into the living room, where he treated me with the clinical politeness of a first-time visitor.

  “Have you had dinner?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks.” A small plate with a few cucumber slices was on the table, and I wondered if this had been his entire dinner. “Do you live here alone? I mean, apart from the roommate you told me about.”

  I was no longer nervous about talking with him, and consequently had no fear of how he might answer the question. I had one item on my agenda and one item only: to work up to saying my piece so I could do what I needed to do and leave. But if I was honest with myself, I had to admit I was also curious to know whether the guy I’d seen him with was his boyfriend.

  Lan Yu hesitated. “Well . . . yes and no . . . There’s someone who—he doesn’t officially live here, but he’s here a lot.” It didn’t escape me that he was just as honest and direct as ever.

  “Well, I won’t bother you again,” I said. “I just wanted to see you so I’d know that you’re okay. I’ve looked everywhere for you, Lan Yu. I was beginning to worry something might have happened.” He sat at the table with the chipped paint in the corner of the living room, as far as possible from the couch where I was seated. He had no response to what I had said, so I continued.

  “Lan Yu, I know that what I did was wrong. I owe you more than one man could ever give. I could spend the rest of my life trying and it would never be enough. So let’s just say I owe you a lifetime. I’m divorced now, so if you need anything—I mean, apart from money—just contact me. Anytime.”

  He remained seated, quiet, eyes blank.

  “Anyway . . . take care,” I said, standing up from the couch.

  I reached for the doorknob, but before I could touch it I felt a hand gripping my arm tightly. Turning around I found myself face-to-face with Lan Yu, who stood so close to me that I could hear his breathing and smell the familiar scent of his breath. This was the moment I had waited for, the fateful reunion I had mentally rehearsed each day for nearly two years. In my daydreams, our eyes would lock in a sublime union that no words could describe and felt as though we were peering into each other’s souls. But what was actually happening was very different from that. Instead of looking into my eyes, Lan Yu fixed his stare to my shoulder and shoved his free hand into his pocket as if he didn’t know what to do with it. I pulled him toward me and held him there in the dimly lit entrance hall. Wordlessly he began to cry, and pushed himself deeper into my chest, shoulders, even my armpits, until my upper body was wet with tears. He tried to stifle it, but his sobbing became heavier and heavier until he was biting my shoulder in grief-stricken agony. I had never seen him like this, not even when we broke up. So why was he like this now?!

  I don’t know how long the two of us stood there together in the doorway. There came a point when I tried wiping away his tears and slowly ungluing him from my body. But he wouldn’t let go. A great deal of time passed before he finally peeled himself away and looked up at me with eyes that were as red as a rabbit’s. I pressed my lips against his eyelids one by one to kiss the tears away. His eyelashes were wet and I could taste his brackish tears, but his lips were dry. I moved my lips to his cheek, my tongue periodically darting out of my mouth to touch his skin. He pulled away slightly to look at me intently, but I couldn’t say what emotion I was seeing—was it pain or joy? I closed my eyes and kissed him again.

  I pulled off his T-shirt and, for the first time in two long years, drank in his beautiful dark skin with my yearning eyes. I dove into his neck and chest and then slowly descended until I was on my knees and at eye level with his belt, which I unbuckled while gazing up at him submissively. We were still in the doorway of his apartment.

  Lan Yu looked down at me in a way I had never seen before: controlling, dominant. It was the cold stare of contempt, the look of someone who intended to dominate. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to be the object of that domination. It was damaging to my self-respect, but it was precisely this humiliation that propelled me to further extremes of wanting to be degraded and even abused by him.

  Yes, I thought. I’ll be the bitch tonight. I was going to give him what I owed him.

  Lan Yu entered my mouth and I sucked him with a sense of purpose. Submission, I believed, would repay him what I owed. I sucked longer than I had ever sucked before. I sucked until my knees hurt and my lips were numb, until my mind turned off and my motions were mechanical. It wasn’t long before Lan Yu’s breathing got heavier. I held on to his waist and looked up at him in surrender as he grabbed a fistful of hair. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and a warm shower of cum splattered against my lips.

  As Lan Yu was coming down from the high of his orgasm, I went to the bathroom to clean up. When I came back I gathered my belongings and told him I was leaving. I wanted his last memory of me to be one of conquest, of him possessing me. But instead of applauding my exit as I had expected, he threw on his pants and looked at me in bewilderment.

  “Why are you leaving?”

  I leaned against the front door, trying to look detached. “Remember, I’m indebted to you forever. Anytime you need something, just come to me.” I had completely avoided his question about why I was leaving.

  Lan Yu’s eyes filled with tears again. He threw himself into my arms, peeling off my clothes and kissing me with such intensity that I almost lost my balance and fell to the floor. He took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom, where he pushed me onto the bed. My head spun. He was on his knees now. I didn’t want him to blow me, didn’t need him to, but that’s what he was doing. All I wanted was to say something. Something that needed to come out. Something I’d waited a lifetime to say. At the very moment I reached climax, I looked down at Lan Yu and cried out, “Don’t leave me!” Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Don’t ever leave me! I’m begging you!”

  Listlessly we lay on the bed. I closed my eyes and felt we were in an ocean, rising and falling as wave after wave pushed us to the crest and carried us forward. Then it was calm, and the ocean became quiet. I heard the heavy sound of Lan Yu falling asleep. Then I fell with him.

  The next day I sat in my office thinking again and again about what had happened the night before. My intention had been to offer recompense then disappear from his life forever. And yet, visions of him burned in my mind with a fiery intensity.

  No longer afraid of seeming too direct, I picked up the phone and dialed his cell. He picked up and I asked him, more haltingly than I had expected, if he wanted to get together that night. He said he had plans.

  “What plans?” I asked.

  He hesitated. “Someone’s coming over.” The w
ords were barely out of his mouth when I hung up.

  Twenty-Five

  For several weeks we had no contact. In the beginning I sat by the phone hoping he would call, but by the seventh day it finally sank in that he wasn’t going to. By the end of the third week I broke down and called him to ask him to dinner. He accepted the invitation, but insisted it was he who was taking me to dinner. This, I figured, was his way of asserting his autonomy and financial independence. I insisted, however, and we argued briefly over who was taking whom to dinner until finally he laughed and said, “Fine, forget it! If you’re not afraid of my cooking, why don’t you just come over here?” I said yes.

  When I stepped into his apartment and saw the crude collection of dishes spread out across the little blue table, I smiled. One thing was certain: he hadn’t improved much in the cooking department.

  After we greeted each other, Lan Yu returned to the kitchen and I went into his bedroom, more out of curiosity than anything else. One of the desks was piled high with books, mostly TOEFL and GRE study guides. On the other desk sat a tiny television and, next to that, a portable cassette player. I pressed the eject button and pulled out the tape, then slowly read the English words: Classic Romantic Love Songs. Lan Yu had never cottoned to English-language music, so I figured it must belong to the “someone” he had been talking about. Was the other desk that someone’s, too?

  When dinner was ready we sat down to eat. Lan Yu watched closely as I sampled the stir-fried green pepper he had made. “How is it?” he asked.

  “Awful!” I joked with him.

  “Don’t eat it, then! Spit it out!” We both laughed, then fell silent for a while.

  As usual, Lan Yu was the first to break the silence. “You must have thought I was a mess the last time you saw me,” he laughed. “I have no idea what came over me. I must have looked pathetic breaking down and crying like that!”