by Amy Cheung
“What’s the matter?” Chui Yuk asked me.
“I was just thinking about how hummingbirds can fly backwards.”
“How do hummingbirds fly backwards, anyway? I’ll ask Yu Mogwo,” Chui Yuk said.
“Hummingbirds go berserk—that’s how they fly backwards. All birds fly forwards!” I said, laughing.
“Who’s going berserk?” Yau Ying said as she entered.
Ever since she’d started wearing her push-up bra, Yau Ying was a changed woman. There was a little extra sassiness in the way she now carried herself.
“You arrived just in time. Let me introduce you two. This is Chui Yuk. She’s a good friend of mine. This is Yau Ying. We were best friends as kids, and we recently met up again.”
“I know you!” Yau Ying said to Chui Yuk. “I’ve seen you before in bra ads!”
“She’s a model,” I said.
“You have such an amazing figure,” Yau Ying said admiringly.
Chui Yuk couldn’t help grinning. “Not really. I’m only a 36B. My figure isn’t as nice as Chow Jeoi’s,” said Chui Yuk. “She’s a nice, average 34B!”
“I really envy you both. I’m only a 32A,” said Yau Ying.
“Why are you free today?” I asked Yau Ying, changing the subject.
“Daihoi has to work late tonight. I wanted to see if you were up for dinner.”
“How about if we all go?”
“Sounds good,” Chui Yuk said.
Once we were settled in at a nearby restaurant specializing in Shanghai cuisine, Yau Ying turned to us.
“I have a story to tell you guys about a certain 36C,” she said.
“Tell us. Who is she?” I asked.
“She just so happens to be a female intern at the law firm. Her name is Olivia Wu. Ever since she came along, the male employees haven’t been able to take their eyes off her.”
“Does she always wear plunging necklines?” Chui Yuk asked.
“Her breasts could rest on the table,” Yau Ying said with an icy laugh.
“Sounds like you really hate her—I’m guessing it’s because she flirts with Daihoi, am I right?” I asked.
“Recently, she became a laughingstock,” Yau Ying said. “She was wearing a loose-fitting dress, and everyone could tell that her strapless bra had slipped down underneath. She managed to yank it back up, but she’d already made a complete fool of herself!” Judging by the look on her face, Yau Ying seemed to be taking a sadistic pleasure in her colleague’s moment of distress.
“Maybe she was wearing a cheap bra,” I said.
Yau Ying talked about Olivia Wu all evening, and I sensed something strange about her hatred for Olivia. She kept making fun of Olivia’s figure—laughing to the point of tears—and yet no tears fell. I began to think it was more a matter of jealousy than hatred.
When Chui Yuk went to the restroom, Yau Ying said, “I want to get breast implants.”
“What?”
“Do you know a good plastic surgeon?”
“I’ve never had plastic surgery,” I said, embarrassed for her.
“As you know, Daihoi likes big breasts,” Yau Ying said dejectedly.
“But you have that push-up bra now.”
“That’s exactly what gave me the idea. I’d never have to wear a push-up bra again. I want to make him happy.”
“Well, it’s your body, but breast implants can come with lots of side effects. Hasn’t it been proven that there are problems with silicone implants?”
“But modern medicine has made all kinds of advances.”
“I just saw in the news how an implant ruptured inside the chest of this one Turkish actress. The whole thing collapsed.”
Yau Ying looked frightened. “Really?”
“Besides, even if you do get surgery, you can’t hide it from Daihoi. If he loves you, he’s not going to want you to take such a dangerous risk. Even if your bust is a little on the small side, what’s the big deal? Like they say, bigger isn’t always better. And implants don’t necessarily look beautiful. I’ve seen a few customers who’ve had surgery, and when I accidentally brushed up against their breasts, I realized they were hard. They don’t feel real at all.”
Yau Ying seemed to take my words to heart. Laughing, she said, “It was just a thought. I don’t really have the courage to go through with it.”
Just then, Chui Yuk returned from the restroom.
“Guess who I just ran into?”
“Who?”
“Sissy Wong. She used to be a model, too. You’ve met her.” I remembered Sissy Wong being a rather well-known fashion model whose claim to fame was that she was flat-chested.
“So it turns out that she got married,” Chui Yuk said.
“Did she marry well?” I asked Chui Yuk.
“Her husband is a very highly regarded plastic surgeon. Lots of celebrities go to him. She gave me his business card.”
Yau Ying’s face lit up. Chui Yuk had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.
“A plastic surgeon? And he’s highly regarded?” Yau Ying took the business card from Chui Yuk’s hands.
“Sissy Wong looks like she’s had breast implants herself. She used to be totally flat-chested, but now she’s quite well-endowed,” Chui Yuk said.
“Can I have this?” Yau Ying asked Chui Yuk.
“You want to have surgery?” Chui Yuk asked.
“You’re not serious, are you?” I asked.
A few days later, I called Yau Ying.
“Please don’t go through with the plastic surgery,” I pleaded.
“I thought about it all night, and I still couldn’t muster up the courage. You’re so lucky. You don’t have to go through this kind of mental strife,” Yau Ying said.
“I have my own mental strife to deal with,” I said.
“Do you want to meet Daihoi?” Yau Ying asked me.
“Can I?”
“Why wouldn’t you? I’ve already told you all about him!”
Yau Ying planned to meet me for lunch in Central. When Daihoi appeared, he didn’t strike me as the type who liked big-breasted women. He was about five foot ten and had finely chiseled features. When Yau Ying had told me he liked big breasts, I had imagined that he’d look sleazy. But that wasn’t the case at all.
Daihoi was a criminal defense lawyer, and we started talking about a recent case of his.
“Remember the case where a woman dismembered her husband? Daihoi represented her,” Yau Ying said.
“I only handled her case in the initial stages. One of the partners represented her when the case went to trial,” Daihoi corrected her.
“She dismembered her own husband, then cooked and ate him. Yet she only got six years in prison. Don’t you think that sentence was too lenient?” I asked Daihoi.
“Lawyers don’t pass judgment on whether a certain person did a certain thing. They show whether there are reasonable grounds to believe that person did that thing. That woman was mentally disturbed,” Daihoi said.
“She and her husband didn’t sleep together for twenty years,” Yau Ying said.
“Isn’t it agonizing to defend someone and deny their actions if you know full well they’re guilty?” I asked Daihoi.
“The entire legal profession is more or less agonizing,” Daihoi said.
“I’ve heard that divorce is an agonizing ordeal, or something to that effect,” I said.
“Not being able to get married in the first place is an agonizing ordeal, too.” Yau Ying suddenly piped up, casting a bitter glance towards Daihoi.
Daihoi seemed completely deaf to her words.
“Being human is an agonizing ordeal,” I joked.
“Ah! True, true,” Yau Ying nodded vigorously.
When Yau Ying laughed, she accidentally spilled a few drops of lemonade onto her clothes. Daihoi took out his handkerchief and blotted up the stain. Daihoi seemed rather attentive to her needs. It was just that most men didn’t want to get married.
“Would your wife ever tur
n you into minced meat sauce in your sleep?” I asked Sam over the phone when I got back to the shop.
“It’s bound to happen sooner or later,” Sam said.
“She must love you intensely, if she’d even think of devouring your flesh.”
“Hating my guts would produce the same outcome.”
“So there’s no love, only hate?” I asked, feeling anguished.
“Would you ever turn me into minced meat sauce?” Sam asked me.
“I don’t like minced meat sauce,” I said.
“But if such an unfortunate turn of events were to occur, would you even be able to recognize that it was me?” Sam asked.
I suddenly felt petrified. The thought that this woman might actually turn him into minced meat sauce horrified me.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore!”
“That might be the fate of a man who’s unfaithful—not just to be made into minced meat sauce but to have his whole body made into minced meat sauce.”
“Can we not talk about this anymore? Please?” I begged him.
“If you find out that I’ve been turned into minced meat sauce, don’t worry. That was the price of loving you.”
I couldn’t hold back my tears. If he were going to be turned into minced meat sauce because of me, I’d rather give him back to the other woman.
That evening at my fashion design class, I thought so much about minced meat sauce that I lost my appetite. When Chen Dingleung invited me to join him for dinner after class, I didn’t have the heart to turn him down, though. He picked a nearby Italian restaurant.
When he ordered the pasta with meat ragout, I almost threw up. I could hardly watch as he eagerly devoured it.
“I ran into my ex-wife yesterday,” Chen Dingleung said.
“The two of you must really be karmically intertwined,” I said.
“She’s pregnant. She already has a bit of a baby bump.” Chen Dingleung gestured with his hands.
“Does that make you happy or sad?” I couldn’t tell from his expression.
“Both. We were together for five years, and we never were able to conceive. She hasn’t been with her new husband for very long, and she’s already pregnant.” He laughed bitterly.
“Do you like children?”
“No, I don’t. The idea of them scares me.”
“So what do you have to be jealous of?”
“She’s having someone else’s child!”
“It’s something you couldn’t have, so you never imagined that someone else actually could. Isn’t that so?”
“You’re not like that?” He shot the question back at me.
“I’ve never experienced anything like that,” I said.
“You sell lingerie, don’t you?” he asked.
“Are you thinking of buying some as a gift?”
“Is there such a thing as lingerie designed for pregnant women?”
“Yes, there is. Because their bellies are so big, they can’t get regular panties on anymore. Plus most pregnant women have to move up to a bigger bra size because their breasts swell up and their old bras don’t fit anymore. After childbirth, the pressure in their chests subsides, so you have to use bras made of firmer material. And after giving birth, new moms have belly flab, which they can get rid of by wearing a postpartum girdle. Pregnant customers just mean more business for us,” I said.
“I didn’t know that being a woman was such hard work.”
“Why are you so interested in pregnant women? Do you still think about your ex-wife all the time?”
“No, it’s just that I felt strange when I saw her pregnant. I knew her body so well when we were married. If something about her body changed, I’d be curious as well as concerned.”
“Is this how men think? After you split up, you still long for her body?”
“A man doesn’t long for every woman’s body,” Chen Dingleung said. “Even if a man didn’t love a woman, he can still remember her body, as long as her body made him happy.”
“If what you’re saying is true, then men can remember sex without love,” I said.
“Are you saying that women aren’t the same way?”
“Women need love in order to remember,” I said.
“You’re kidding!” He laughed coldly.
“Why do you think I’m kidding?”
“How can a woman only remember sexual relationships with certain men?”
“Because she loves that man,” I said emphatically.
“Memories of sexual relationships are what they are. There’s nothing more to them.”
Chen Dingleung was scaring me. He was so self-assured, so convinced that he understood women perfectly. Of course a woman would remember only certain sexual relationships. But for a woman to admit such a thing was clearly too much for him to handle.
“A woman told me so,” Chen Dingleung said.
“She told you that she remembered her sexual relationship with you, but that she didn’t love you?”
“You love poking fun at people, don’t you?”
“It’s my forte.”
Chen Dingleung drove me home in his jeep.
“When’s Yu Mogwo’s second book coming out? I promised I’d design the cover for him,” said Chen Dingleung.
“He’s doing a short study abroad program in the States. He and Chui Yuk were having problems, but now it looks like things are going to be OK.”
“What kind of problems?” he asked me.
“The kind of problems all couples have!”
“What’s this nonsense you speak of?” Chen Dingleung said, laughing.
“Is it fun driving a jeep?” I saw that he looked euphoric.
“Do you have a driver’s license?” he asked me.
“I do. I took the driver’s test five years ago, but I haven’t driven since.”
“Do you want to try driving this thing?”
“No, I haven’t been behind the wheel in years.”
“You’re licensed—there’s nothing to worry about!” Chen Dingleung said as he pulled over to the side of the road. “C’mon. It’s your turn to drive.”
“No!”
“C’mon! Don’t worry. I’ll be sitting right beside you.”
Gathering all my courage, I climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Do you still remember how to drive?” Chen Dingleung asked me.
I nodded.
“Great! Let’s go!”
I started the engine, and off we went.
“Hey, not bad!” he said. “You can go a little faster.”
I accelerated, and we sped down the highway. I don’t quite know what happened next, but the jeep suddenly swerved off the road, and Chen Dingleung and I found ourselves roughly bumping along the shoulder. As we lurched to a stop, my skirt flew up over my legs and Chen Dingleung saw everything—probably even my underpants. I was mortified. I didn’t know what I thought of this guy—the last thing I needed was him knowing what kind of underwear I wore.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
I gave a small nod as I hurriedly pulled my skirt back down, unable to look him in the eye.
“It’s a miracle we didn’t flip over. How about if I do the driving from now on?” he said, getting out of the car to walk to the driver’s side.
“Did you know we have the same birthday?” I said, desperate to change the subject from my bad driving and my clothing mishap. I didn’t want to hear a word about either one.
“We have the same birthday?”
“Yes! November third.”
“That’s a coincidence,” he said, starting up the car.
When we arrived at my place, I thanked him for the ride and offered to pay for the damage.
“As long as it starts up, I’m not taking it to the shop. This car has always been covered in scars, just like me.” He laughed sardonically.
“Well, see you later,” I said.
“I hate to leave you so soon.” With those words, he started up the engine and drove off. I di
dn’t have a chance to see his expression, but he probably wanted to see my expression even less. The boldness of his words took me by complete surprise.
When I got inside, I took a look at myself in the mirror. I was in an unusually good mood. As it turned out, a woman needed to be admired. Only then did I realize my necklace was missing. I didn’t have Chen Dingleung’s pager number, so I went and scoured the street outside. Just when I was about to head back inside, Chen Dingleung pulled up in his jeep.
“Looking for this?” He lowered the window and extended his hand. He was holding my scorpion necklace.
“Oh! Thank you.” I grabbed it back.
“I found it inside the car,” he said.
“Thanks again. See you later,” I told him.
“See you,” he said.
He still hadn’t started the car by the time I stepped back into the building.
“Aren’t you leaving?” I asked.
At that very moment—as if he were snapping awake—he abruptly waved good-bye. I felt uncertain about how I should have handled that. I had no intention of inviting Chen Dingleung up to my place. And yet I still felt bad. It turned out that rejecting someone was really hard. Maybe he didn’t love me, and he was just longing for a woman’s affection this evening, and I just happened to be a woman who sold lingerie, and he’d wrongly assumed that women who sold lingerie were loose, and therefore he thought he’d try to see if I’d sleep with him.
I called Chui Yuk. I wanted to see what she thought, but she piped up first. “Yu Mogwo is back. In fact, he’s right beside me. I want him to talk to you.”
“Chow Jeoi, how are you?” Yu Mogwo asked, sounding cheerful.
“I’m great. How are you? Did you just get back?” I asked him.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about Chui Yuk,” he said bluntly.
Chui Yuk then got back on the line. “He didn’t say a word to me about coming back. I was shocked when he showed up at the door. We’re going out for a midnight snack. Do you want to join us?”
“No thanks. I don’t want to get in the way of your reunion.”