The Bottom Line

Yongming Wang

          “You know. I have my bottom line,” declared the girl sitting next to me. Then she looked at me, waiting for the inevitable. Several people around us stopped talking.

          “What is that?” asked I.

          “I never touch certain parts of my client’s body,” she said clearly, emphasizing on “certain parts.”

          Our conversation came to a halt. I didn’t know how to continue. Also as if by an agreement, everybody in the room became quiet at the same time, a room of twenty-odd people. After a few awkward seconds the hostess cleverly started a new topic. The room resumed its usual buzzing and humming. But I was intrigued by this brave girl. I knew she’d come to America from China just a couple of months ago. And she had already started working. She had no relatives in this country except a distant cousin whom I knew of. In other words, she was alone on herself.

          Her name was Hong. It was the first time I met her. I sat next to her for the rest of the night talking to her; and tried to look at her face from different angles. She was by no means beautiful. You could say she was not even pretty. However, under the warm soothing yellow lights of the house, she was serene, mystic, and attractive. She was small in size, with a slim waist and black long hair in a ponytail style. She sat there with her back straighten up, feet on the ground next to each other, and hands on her laps. Whenever she looked away from me, my eyes could not help glancing at her hands.  I felt like a thief. I told myself several times: stop looking at the hands. It’s improper to stare a lady’s hands. But I could not control myself.

          Such a pair of hands!

          Small and delicate, with fairly long fingers and tiny round knuckles. The skin was milky white, like the surface of white jade. I could clearly see the thin blue vein running under the half-transparent creamy skin. Any man who sees such a pair of hands wants to touch them; me no exception. But I knew that was next to impossible. I envied those who were lucky to be touched by such beautiful hands.  And I knew there were a lot of lucky guys out there, so long as they paid.

          When I was back at the dormitory after the party finished, I casually mentioned Hong to Michael, my American roommate. He said, half jokingly, “I think you like her.” Of course I denied furiously. But when I lied in bed that night, I could not go to sleep for a long time. In front of my eyes hung a pair of hands.  

          Next day at the lab, I called Ping, Hong’s cousin. Ping was a graduate student, like me, but in the math department. I studied chemistry. I asked Ping if he wanted to go to hiking this weekend. It was October; it was the time for foliage watching; it was beautiful here in Boston in October. He said yes and we started chatting away. At the end of our conversation, I casually mentioned that he could bring his cousin along. He immediately said that was not possible because Hong had to work on weekend, every weekend. I was disappointed but I showed no sign of it.

          Christmas was drawing close to us. I decided to throw a Christmas party in our dorm. I told Michael about my plan. He was all for it. Michael loved Chinese food, and I was a fairly decent cook. So we started to act. I called and invited people, including Ping.  “How about your cousin? Can she come this time? I don’t think she has to work on Christmas Eve,” I asked him. “I don’t know. Let me ask her,” answered Ping.

          Two days later, Ping called me back.

          “Hong can’t come,” he said.

          “Why?” I asked.

          “Well, I’m not quite sure. All I know is that she won’t work that day. But it seems that she has to go to another place.”

          “Who else does she know except you?” I did not believe this.

          “Believe it or not, she told me she had some American friends who invited her over.”

          After putting down the phone, I told Michael I wanted to cancel the party. Michael strongly disagrees. He did not know the reason for my sudden mood change but he tried hard to persuade me and to cheer me up. Finally I gave in. We busied ourselves with food shopping and preparation. On the day of Christmas Eve, I spent a whole day to cook. Michael simply couldn’t sit still. Starting from the morning, he constantly snooze his nose, and tried hard to peek what I was doing --- I didn’t want him hanging around when I was cooking and I even refused his volunteering to be my assistant. I couldn’t trust his work. Simple like that. Six o’clock, almost everyone was here. We started our party. I tried hard to put my mind and my heart into it. But for the whole night I couldn’t concentrate on what other people were talking about. I felt something missing inside me. I looked at Michael. He was the happiest person in the room. He kept complement on the food and me. Ping sat next to me. He didn’t say much. He seemed knowing what I was thinking. I wanted to talk to him about Hong but I didn’t know what to talk about, or what to ask. Think of it: a girl I only met once. What could I say?

          The new year, in February 15 was the Chinese New Year. The College Chinese Students Associations, of which I was a member, was planning a big party in the campus student center.  Everybody was excited. It was the only holiday we Chinese really celebrated in this country. Even though this year it fell on a Tuesday, even though there was no parade on the streets, no fireworks in the sky, no day-off for us, but it did not matter. We got everything ready on the last Weekend. Sharp at seven o’clock of the night, the party started. We had invited our American friends, of course. The majority, however, were Chinese, students and faculty members, spouses, children. We chatted; we sang Karaoke; we even danced a little. But the most sacred thing that occupied us that night was eating. The food was fantastic! We asked everybody to bring at least one dish of their specialty to the party. The result? A banquet of all kinds of traditional, authentic, delicious Chinese food, from the hot and spicy Sichuan food, to delicious Cantonese seafood, to northern Chinese Beijing style, southern sweet Shanghai style.   Here was the partial list: double cooked pork, ma po tofu, shrimp dumplings, steam buns stuffed with roast pork, sesame seed balls, roasted duck, Beijing duck, beer duck, crispy skin duck, fish in hot source, spring rolls, fish ball soup; it went on and on.

          We were enjoying ourselves tremendously, telling each other the story of our childhood; how unforgettable was the way our moms or grandmas cooked; how delicious those memorable food were when we thought of them now! We were nostalgic; we were savoring our past.

          I was drinking a little over my head, and I bounced around and felt boisterous. I decided I needed more beer, and walked over to the wine table and reached for a bottle of Tsingtao beer, when suddenly out of my blurred eyes I saw a small, white, jade-like hand reaching for the same beer. So familiar! It was exactly the same hand I had envisioned frequently for the past several months. I looked up. Right in front of me stood no one but Hong, smiling and waving at me by her right hand. She remembered me. She was wearing a long blue skirt with a red belt around the waist. She looked at me, waiting for me to say something. But my mind was in some kind of haze. Finally I squeezed some words out of my mouth, “I don’t know you will be here tonight.” She smiled again. “My cousin told me about this party and I asked my boss to give me half day off. So here I am.” She paused a little and continued, “I want to thank you for inviting me for your Christmas party, even though I couldn’t come.” “Can we find a place and sit down?” suddenly my mind became clear. “Okey, how about over there?”

          We walked over to the corner and sat down. Both of us held a bottle of beer. We slowly sipped the beer over our conversation.

          “How long have you been here, six month?” I started.

          “Yes. I can’t believe it’s been six months, seems to me both a blink and an endless period,” Hong’s mood changed a bit.

          “Is it hard, your work?” I asked.

          “I don’t want to talk about my work,” she said.

          “How did you come to the United States?” I changed the topic.

          “Didn’t my cousin tell you already?” she said.

          “”Eh…” I staggered, “he told me a few things about you.”

          “What’s about me?” she asked.

          “That you broke up with your boyfriend in China; that you had a license in massage in China; and that you applied and got a working permit from Canada Embassy. When you stopped in New York to change the plane, you decided to stay in U.S., instead of going to Canada. Is that so?” I asked.

          “That’s mostly right,” she answered. “Two things need to be corrected, though. One is that my boyfriend broke up with me, not my breaking up with my boyfriend; second: when I stopped at New York, my cousin came from Boston to New York to meet me. He told me I can stay in U.S. if I want; and he also said that U.S. has more opportunity than Canada. So I stay.”

          “So your status is ‘black’ now?” I meant she was an illegal immigrant.

          “Yes. I’m black. I can’t go to school; I can’t find a decent job; I can’t even get a driver’s license. Anyway, my English is so bad that I don’t think I will ever learn to drive.”

          We stopped talking, both sinking into a deep contemplation. We watched the big crowded hall. People were talking, laughing, and dancing. The music changed to fast and loud piece. I felt headache and suffocated. “Would you like to go out to have a walk?” I asked her. “Sure, let me get my coat,” she said.

          We were outside. Nobody in the party noticed our departure. It was a clear and starry night, chilly but no wind. We walked along the campus walkway. The cold air refreshed me. I breathed deeply. We walked slowly. For about five minutes both of us did not say anything. Then Hong broke the silence. “Oh, it’s such a beautiful night. Look at the sparkling stars, and the white snow around us. It looks yellow under the lights but I know it’s white.”

          We walked aimlessly. Stepping on the snow under such a beautiful sky made me feel so lighted-minded. Or it was the beer’s effect; or, it was because there was a girl walking besides me. I did not have a girlfriend. Never had. In other words, I never fell in love in the twenty-six years of my life. I did not know what it felt like when in love. But why tonight my heart beat somehow faster than usual. I felt I could walk like this forever. Just like this. Keep walking. No need to talk.

          Hong quivered. She must be cold. I took off my jacket and gave it to her. She refused.

          I suddenly realized that we came to the front of my dormitory building. I did not know how we ended up there.  I suddenly got an idea. I said to Hong, “Here is where I live. You look tired and cold. Would you like to go up to take a rest and warm up a little?” She hesitated a couple seconds and said okay.

          My building was a seven-story, red-brick building. My room was in third floor. I looked at my watch. It was almost eleven. The whole building was very quiet. We did not take the elevator. We walked up the stairs. All the way we do not meet a single soul. We did not talk. The only sound we could hear was Hong’s high heel shoes knocking the concrete floor with a clear and crispy rhythm: tee, tar, tee, tar. It was like every beat of the sound was pounding my heart. “Hong, you were stepping on my heart,” I joked. She glanced at me, smiling, saying nothing.

          We entered the room. It was empty. Michael must still be at the party. I asked her to take off her coat and sit down at the sofa in the corner of the living room. I walked over to the refrigerator, and found some oranges inside. Without asking her, I took out two oranges, cut them into pieces, and put them in a plate. I walked over to the sofa, gave the plate to her, sat down next to her.  It was a small, purple, two-person love-set. Our bodies were close to each other. She smiled at me, and gave me a piece of orange. When I reached out to receive the orange from her right hand, my hand somehow touched her hand.  Even though it was a very slight touch, my heart trembled violently, as if electrified. We started eating orange. I tried hard to find some interesting topics but I could not think of anything. I still felt the impact of beer. My head was heavy and light at the same time. But I had to say something. This was my room. Hong was my guest. I should not keep silent.

          I said, “Your skirt matched the sofa so perfectly. I don’t have a camera. Otherwise I’d like to take a picture of you.”

          She just sat there and smiled.

          I continued, “You know, I have been thinking of that night when we first met at the party.” Suddenly I became bold.

          “Really? I don’t believe it. My cousin said you are a PHD student, and going to graduate soon. You must be occupied with your study and research stuff. I don’t think you still have time to think other things.” She was a little serious now, but still with that smile lingering on her face. She spoke slowly, as if every word was a jewel, or bead, rolling out from her small and delicate mouth.

          “I’m also a human,” I half-joked. At this moment I noticed that both our hands were on the sofa. My left hand was just less than one inch away from her right hand. As if attracted by a magnet, my hand started moving, slowly. First the skin heat, then the electricity. I could feel it now. But suddenly her hand withdrew.

“I just think of your hands all the time,” I ventured. I couldn’t believe what I just said.

          Silence.

          “I think of you all the time,” I didn’t give up.

          More silence.

          I came to a dead impasse. The room became silent again. The room door suddenly opened. Rushed in Michael. Obviously he was drunk because he just ignored both of us, as if didn’t see us at all. He stumbled to the sink, and put his head under the tap, and started drinking water. Hong stood up and said she had to go. I nodded and we walked out and back to the party and found Ping. He was worried about her. When he saw both of us walked into the hall, he squinted his eyes, seeming to know some secrets. I didn’t say anything more. Just said good-bye to Hong. Then I walked back to the dorm.

          It was my last year of my PhD study. I was in the final stage writing my dissertation. There were only three months left. I decided to put away everything unrelated to my writing, including Hong. So since that day, I buried myself in my research and writing, juggling between the lab and the library, only went back to dorm to sleep.  Then finally the day to defense my dissertation was here. I passed it without much hassle. I was happy to tell the news to Michael. He was thrilled. He insisted to throw a party to me. “Of course the usual,” he excitingly pronounced, “I buy all the things, you cook.” “No, No, I shouldn’t cook this time.” I protested. “OK, then, I’ll order out. Wait, I’ll gather a few people and we chip in. Let’s have a party right here.”

          A party. Suddenly something came up from bottom of my inside. A figure materialized slowly in front of me. For three months I hadn’t thought of her. But now her image stubbornly reappeared. I shook my head, trying to get rid of that image. “Ask Ping to come.” I said to Michael.

          It was a nice gathering. All my good friends came to congratulate me. They half jokingly called me Doctor Zhang. After dinner, we just scattered around and chatted away. I found a chance to talk with Ping. In the middle of our conversation I casually asked how Hong was doing. She is doing alright, he said. He must sense something because he said to me, “You guys didn’t see each other since the Chinese New Year?” “No, Why did you ask that?” I played innocent. “Because that night I saw you two came back together from outside. I thought you two ...” He didn’t finish. “No, we just took a walk. That’s all. We did have a little talk though. She told me her story, briefly. Why and how she came here. But how is her life here in America? I don’t know much. I know that her job as a massage girl is not an easy one.”

          Ping sighed. “Yes, I don’t know much detail. But I do know that her life at the massage place is not easy. Especially for the first six months, she often called me and complained to me. You know how hard for a young girl at that kind of place. Plus there is language barrier. She told me many of her clients are blue-collar, big men. She doesn’t understand much what they say to her. But she knows what they want in addition to mere massage. It is not easy to keep her bottom line.” Ping paused, then continued: “She is a woman. You know. There is something she can’t tell me. But I can sense it.”

          “But last year around Christmas you told me she got some American friends.” I said.

“Yes. The thing got much better since then. I think. You saw her at the Chinese New Year party. You can see she was not bad, aren’t you?”

          “Yes. Do you know anything about her American friends?”

          “No, I’m curious. I asked her several times but she always dodged it.”

          I got an idea at that moment. “Give me her phone number. I’m going to call her.”

          “I can give you her phone number. But it’s not convenient to call. Even I seldom call her unless absolutely necessary.”

          “Why is that?” I asked.

          “Because her schedule is odd, working late, and get up late. It’s definitely not a good idea to call when she is working.”

          I came up with another idea. “Do you have the address for the place where she works?” I asked.

          Ping was obviously stunned by this. “Yes, I do. But I’ve never been to that place. You want to go there? What for? It’s not a good idea.” Ping started to shake his head.

          “Just give me the address.” I insisted. “I don’t know. I may go, may not.”

          Involuntarily he took a small notebook from his pant pocket, and turned to the page. He gave me the address. But he didn’t forget to warn me. “Be careful. Environment can change a person greatly. I don’t know how much my cousin changed. But you watch out for yourself.” I was moved by his concern for me. I padded his shoulder and we didn’t say anything anymore that night.

          It turned out that I neither call nor go.

          I was in the middle of deciding what to do now. I got my PhD degree. Should I stay in the school to become a postdoctoral or go outside to find a job? My major was in pharmaceutical. It was not hard to find a job, to earn a decent living and find me a girlfriend, and maybe settle down. But I also wanted to continue my scientific research. I discussed that with Michael. He strongly suggested that I should find a job. He said I already spent more than fifteen years in the school. I should get bored. He especially stressed that I was such a nerd that all I knew was just study, study. I even didn’t go to the bar for once since I came to America six years ago. He laughed at me. I had nothing to defend myself. He was right. For the past six years I even never went to the movie theatre; I seldom watched television. I didn’t have any girlfriend. I tried once but she rejected me. I was twenty eight now. Maybe I should settle down. So I said to Michael OK I would look for a job.

          I found a job easily. It was a pharmaceutical company not far from the school. But I couldn’t live in school’s dorm anymore. I moved out there and rent a small apartment. Michael was sad to see me leave. He complained that nobody would cook good Chinese foods for him. I said you only had yourself to thank for that. It was you who told me to find a job. He had nothing to say. “I’ll come to visit you on every weekend,” he threatened me.

          The first few months of my new work gave me a heck of hard time. I was so used to the college life: at night you could stay as late as you want and in the morning got up as late as you like. Freedom. Now I had to be in my office at eight in the morning, every day. It almost killed me. At night, I tried to go to sleep early but often I found myself looking at the clock when it already past midnight. I tried to think nothing. But occasionally the image of Hong or her hands would rise in front of me. I was debating with myself whether I should pay her a visit at her work place on some weekend. But I was always busy on weekends. Only on weekends I felt like I was back at my college life. I got my freedom back. Plus, Michael really kept his word of visiting me. At least twice each month he would drop by my place. When he came he always brought the stuff he bought at Chinatown on the way here. So I had to cook. I didn’t have much complain about it because I could also temporarily forget about those fast food I had to eat from Monday to Friday. After dinner, he would bring me to all these places he called entertainment: movies, bars. Of course I paid for all these because I had a job now, he said.

He even tried to fix me up with an American girl, who was a friend of his. Her name was Tanya. She was good looking, fun loving and energetic. Tanya and I went out a couple of times. But no sparks between us. We stopped seeing each other at both parties’ will.  Tanya later complained to Michael that I was dull and no fun. I complained to Michael that she was not serious at all, just for fun. I am not a toy, I told Michael, if she is just looking for fun, then get a toy to play with. Michael was laughing at me. He said he foresees that I will become an old virgin someday, live alone in this world. I retorted that I will find a nice girl to marry and have a family and children. “A nice girl means a boring girl,” he said. “You wait and see.” I said. When I said the above I knew I still didn’t forget Hong. But I also knew I would never go to that place to see her. As she said, she and I had two different life tracks, which would never interact again. The only thing I could do now was: wait. “She, whoever might be my life companion, will eventually come into my life.” I comforted myself with such thought.

Then one Saturday night, I was alone at my apartment, reading, when the telephone rang. It was Ping. I haven’t talked with him for several months. I was a little surprised. I had a foreboding about what he was going to tell me. Maybe something about Hong. I was right. In the middle of our conversation he suddenly said to me, “Do you know that Hong is getting married?”

I was utterly shocked by his question. “What? What did you say?” I heard myself repeated my question on the phone.

“So you don’t know,” Ping said. I could hear a slight sigh in his voice. “I didn’t expect, but I thought you guys may be in touch somehow. So you two didn’t. She is going to marry an American.”

I couldn’t stand this anymore. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? What on heck this is? You must tell me anything.” I almost shouted to the phone.

“I just got the news myself this morning.” Ping paused a little then continued, “I didn’t hear from Hong for a while. Then she called me this morning and told me the shocking news. I was pressing her to tell me more, especially about the person who she is going to marry. She didn’t say much. Only told me he is a white American, retired from government job, about sixty years old. I thought I should let you know it.”

I hang up the phone. I was in a state of extremely unrest and pain. How could this happen so sudden? But why it disturbed me so much. I thought I’d already forgotten about her. Then why the news stabbed my heart like a knife? I made a decision at that moment. I had to go to see her tomorrow, no matter what. I had to dissuade her from making such a huge mistake, marrying a sixty-year-old OLD man. In return for what?

Next morning I got up with a headache, from last night’s lack of sleeping. I didn’t have any appetite for breakfast. I set off immediately.

I found the place without any difficulty. It was located in the south part of the city, in a busy business area with many small stores and restaurants.  Dynasty Massage, that was its name, was on the second floor of a gray brick building. The first floor was a pizza restaurant. Today was Sunday. The streets were empty. Both the restaurant and the massage place were not open yet. I stood across the street, looking at my watch. It was only 10 o’clock. I just wait here so I might meet Hong on the street. That will be better than I go up there. I thought.

So I just stood there, looking in turn at the streets, the pizza restaurant, and the second floor room which was hidden from black curtain. Eleven thirty, the Pizza was open. The second floor lights and the signs were still dark. I felt a little hungry. I went into the Pizza, ordered a piece of plain. While I was eating I asked the person working behind the counter did he know when the place on second floor would open for business. He gave me a furtive look and answered me impatiently, “Why, today was Sunday, those people never wake up from their sleep before noon in Sundays. They don’t have many customers today.” He emphasized the word CUSTOMER purposely, and looked at me again. I felt my face became hot and red. I didn’t say anything, just finished the pizza and walked out of there as soon as possible, back to the other side of street, and stood there.

The sun was now high above my head. It was a hot August sun. I was sweating, standing there looking and watching. At the same time I was debating with myself. Is it a good idea to come here? What am I going to say to her? How much has she changed from last time I saw her?

Finally the lights and signs were on. The curtain was still closed. They might never open that, I thought. I looked at my watch. It was almost one o’clock. My feet got tired and sour from long standing. But now I forgot all that. I walked over the street, opened the silver-grey aluminum door and started climbing the stairs. It was dark once inside. I felt a little chilly. While I climbed I tried not to make any audible sound from my steps. I slowly ascended, trying to hear any sound from above. Nothing. Totally silent. Like it was dead. The wooden stair suddenly creaked loudly under my feet. I heard someone started moving quickly above. They must have heard it.

At last I came to the door. It was half opened. I stopped, listened. Obviously there were two women inside talking in Chinese and in whisper. I heard one saying, “This early, who should it be?” It was not Hong’s voice. I knocked on the door lightly. One person appeared, not Hong, but about the same age, even prettier than Hong, I had to say. She was obviously taken aback by seeing me, a male Chinese standing there.

“…Sir?...” She stumbled.

“Oh, sorry, I’m here to look for Hong. I ‘m a friend of her. Is she here?”

“Hong? No such name here.”

Another girl in the room heard us. “That is me. But who is visiting me at this time this place?” She started walking toward the door. Immediately I saw her; and she saw me. It was her; it was Hong. For five seconds, we were speechless, just standing there looking at each other. Then the other girl broke the silence and the awkwardness. “Hey, Linda, I don’t know your Chinese name is Hong. Come in, come in.” She talked to me now. I found her voice was actually very loud.

I stepped inside. Hong was behind me; she still didn’t say anything, just lowered her head, looking at the floor in front of her. The other girl asked me to sit down. I sat down, looking around.

It was a very simple room. On one side, at each corner laid a massage bed blocked by a blue-colored curtain. On this side where I sat there were a big sofa and two chairs. A table was in front of the window. That was all. I also noticed that there was a closed door on the wall next to the sofa. I wondered what was behind that door.

We sat there, silent. The other girl obviously sensed that she was not convenient present. She told Hong, “You two go to that room. I’ll be outside here. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of the business.” Hong stood up, walked over, and pushed open the closed door. I followed her. Inside was a bedroom, with two beds on both sides of the walls. Hong sat down at one bed. I decided to sit down on another, facing her. “This is where you two live and sleep?” I asked. She nodded.

Now I had time to look at her carefully. She was a little pale compared with last time I saw her, which was eight months ago. But her eyes emitted a kind of shinning sparks not seen before, as if expecting something prominent going to happen. And I again inspected from the corner of my eyes that pair of hands of hers, which, with its palms down, lay still on her laps. They didn’t change at all, still bearing that color of half-transparent, milky white, and that element of jade.

“I heard from your cousin that you are getting married. Is that true?” I went straight to the point.

“Yes. How much did he tell you?”

“Not much. I only know that he is an American, retired, and sixty years old.” I emphasized the number sixty.

“That’s right.”

“Can I ask how did you get to know this man? and I guess last Christmas it was he whom you were with.”

“Yes. And he is a client of mine.”

“I see. How about your bottom line? I still remember when we first met at that party. You said your bottom line is never to touch your client’s sensitive parts. But now one of your clients is to become your husband.” Out of my control my voice became a little sarcastic.

“Yes, I remember I said that. But Charlie, by the way, his name is Charlie, Charlie is one of few clients who never ask me to touch more than the massage should touch.” Maybe my sarcastic voice provoked her somehow. She couldn’t stop now. “Do you know how hard and difficult working here for us two girls? I guess you would never know. We had to look out for each other constantly. Almost all those clients, all are men, men with desires, they came here seeking more than massage. They looked down upon us. I can feel it whenever they pay the money. But Charlie, he is the first American who respects me. Really respect me. He, until now, even we are going to marry soon, only kissed me. And also, he teaches me English, shows me around the town, and helps me in everything that I, a foreign girl, might encounter in this foreign place…”

“But you can ask your cousin, or me, for help,” I interrupted.

“My cousin? First of all we are never that close. And also I can feel that he looks down on me too. He thinks my job somehow disgraces him, or our family back in China. As for you, I never thought of asking for your help. Last time when we met at the Chinese New Year party, I could feel your good intention. But I also felt that you acted as if you were trying to save me. Even today, aren’t you thinking that you come here to rescue me from falling into the abyss? I don’t want to be saved. I don’t need to. Charlie is the only person who helps me unconditionally. He is old. Yes. And he had high blood pressure and diabetics too. But I don’t care. I owe him. I also need a legal status to stay here. After we get married, I’m going to continue working here, and I want to become the owner of this place. I’ll own it, expand it, and make it the biggest massage place in town. That, is my new bottom line, to survive, to be rich and prosper. And I swear to God, I’ll never let my children, if I will ever have children, to suffer what I suffered. That is my bottom line.”

“If that is the case, then I’ll ask you one last question. How much do you really love him?”

“Love? Please don’t ask me that.”

“Please answer me. Because I don’t believe that two people should be together if there is no love between them.”

“Yes, we do have love between us. Maybe not much. But who says you can’t marry without love.”

Both of us stopped talking. There seems not much to talk about. After a long while, I broke the silence. “I’m going to tell the truth too. Hong, I liked you the first time we met. Since then I have been thinking of you from time to time. I never had a girlfriend. I don’t know how to express my feeling, how to act. That night at my apartment at the Chinese New Year party, that was the boldest movement I could take. But you refused me. For a long time after that I’ve tried to forget about you. A lot of things happened to me also during the past several months. I thought I had already forgotten about you. But yesterday, when I heard the news, I felt like my heart was stabbed by a knife. Then I knew I didn’t forget you. I should have come here to see you long time ago. I don’t know why I didn’t come. Now I see all is too late. Is it?”

“Yes. It’s too late.”

……

It was time to leave. I stepped down from the bed to the floor. Hong too. We stood there, face to face. I had difficulty to find some last words. I very much wanted to do something before I took off but didn’t have the courage. After some struggle, finally I blurted out, “Could you let me hold your hands for a while? I always dream of touching your hands, you know.”

Without saying anything, Hong gave me her right hand, the hand that touched numerous men’s skin. I grasped it with both my hands. I felt the warmth, the coolness, the delicateness, and the exquisiteness, just like grasping a piece of jade. I didn’t want to let it go.

August 2008