Part 17 (1/2)
Philip n.o.ble Michael's busy schedule kept him at the hospital for long hours and we didn't have much chance to talk. Two days later, before I could bring up the issue of Lisa again, he had to go to Boston for two days, to attend a meeting about one of his research projects. He'd already told me about this and apologized when he'd invited me to visit him in the States.
Although I was still very upset by what had happened, without Michael's presence the apartment suddenly seemed quiet, as if a veil had fallen over it. Pangs stabbed my chest as I saw the empty s.p.a.ce by my side in the foyer mirror. I went to lie on the sofa, but the fabric felt cold under me.
Finally I went to the study, flipped on the desk lamp, and braced myself to do some reading. When I was picking my books, I noticed a folded card leaning against the lamp. On the side of the card was a gold phoenix, and next to it was Michael's handwriting: ”To Meng Ning.” I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and opened it. It read: Dearest Meng Ning,I'm so sorry I have to leave you on your own during your stay here. In case you need cash, there is some in the top desk drawer. The fridge is still stocked, but please also go out and have some nice meals. In case there is any problem, call Philip n.o.ble, or for small matters, ask Frank the doorman. Take care. Sorry that we quarreled. I'll talk more after I've come back. I love you.Michael I pulled out the drawer and found a pile of bills-fifties, twenties, tens, and ones. I counted; there was about five hundred dollars altogether. A surge of warmth rose inside me as I dropped the money back into the drawer, muttering, ”Hai, Michael, I love you, too. But...” Michael, I love you, too. But...”
Still feeling very confused and upset, I went to the kitchen and imitated a Cantonese cafe in Hong Kong by fixing myself a ”fatty jumps into the sea”-a raw egg dropped into sugared hot water. Stirring the water and looking at the egg dissolve into surrealistic yellow-orange ribbons soothed my nerves. I nursed the gla.s.s to warm my hand, then sipped the scalding liquid and let out a sigh.
The phone startled me. I almost knocked over ”fatty” as I reached to grab the receiver.
Steadying the gla.s.s, I said into the phone in a loving tone, ”Hi, Michael, you miss me?”
To my shock, what came from the other end of the line was a vaguely familiar male voice. ”Of course I miss you, Meng Ning.”
”Who is it?”
”Philip. Philip n.o.ble.”
”Oh, Philip, how are you?” Michael's glamorous buddy's achingly handsome face quickly crept its way into my mind.
Then his rich baritone voice breathed into my ear. ”Meng Ning, since Michael is away, I'm calling to ask if you need any help, like...my company?”
”Hmm...” I couldn't really say I don't want your company, I don't want your company, could I? So I remained silent. could I? So I remained silent.
”Come on, Meng Ning, don't be stuck at home by yourself-that's not healthy. Come out and see the world.” Now his voice was like heavily sweetened hot cocoa, or my ”fatty.” ”You don't have to be like Michael, who works so hard all the time. Anyway, Michael asked me to tend to you while he's away. So, would you let me teach you how to relax and have fun?”
”Hmm...but I'd rather stay home...”
”Please, you should go out and let other people see how beautiful you are. Nice things should not be hidden from the world.”
”But, Philip...”
”No more 'buts,' Meng Ning. Michael will be away for two days. Can you just forget him for forty-eight hours? I'll take you to a real nice restaurant and then a cafe that brews the best coffee you've ever tasted. Please, humor me.”
In spite of my uncertainty, I found myself chuckling at his language and heard myself mutter an ”all right,” while the handsome face refused to vanish from my mind.
”Wonderful. I'll pick you up at six this evening.”
At the door, I was surprised to see Philip holding a dozen elegantly wrapped, long-stemmed pink roses.
”For you, my Chinese G.o.ddess.”
”Oh, Philip, you don't have to do this.”
”But I can't help it.”
A few minutes later, Philip was opening his car's door for me. Although the car looked small and very uncomfortable with its extremely low seats, a few pa.s.sersby threw us envious stares.
A thirtyish black man rushed toward us from the adjacent building, exclaiming, ”Wow, a silver Lotus!”
Philip pointed a finger at him and split a white-toothed smile. ”You bet.”
The black man winked. ”Beautiful Chinese girl, too. Man, your luck's up. You have it all!”
”Sure thing, pal.”
”You like the car?” Philip asked when the car hit the road. Despite the heavy Manhattan traffic, he managed the steering wheel like a performance artist.
”Not really. You're so tall, don't you find it uncomfortable with such low, plunge-and-hit-your-bottom-hard seats?”
He gave out a hearty laugh, silvery like his moving toy. ”Then I must be a fool, paying a fortune to be uncomfortable. Meng Ning, that's why I really like you. You're so different from all my exes. A breath of fresh air among suffocating perfume.”
I didn't know what to say to that. Then, in less than five minutes, Philip pulled to a stop in front of an elegant entrance. Out of nowhere, a young man arrived and took Philip's key with extended hand, into which Philip stuffed a few bills.
”This is the very famous Russian Tea Room,” Philip said as he held my elbow and gently steered me into the lobby filled with elegantly dressed people, milling around or occupying thick, red leather seats amidst Tiffany lamps and luscious oil paintings of flowers and landscapes.
”We're not dining here, but on the higher floor in the Palace.” He cast me a conceited, mysterious glance.
I understood right away why this was called the Palace the moment I stepped inside the dining hall. The ceiling was almost two stories high with a huge chandelier hanging low like an old womb. Crystals, like diamonds, shot their dazzle in all directions, not missing a soul. Everything seemed to be floating in gold, silver, and vibrant red.
A tuxedoed waiter led us to a seat at the corner under a floral oil painting and took our orders for drinks. In no time, he came back with a bottle of red wine and a gla.s.s for Philip and a c.o.ke for me. Since I had had my ”fatty” earlier and was not hungry, I decided to skip the appetizer and Philip said he would do the same to keep me company.
After the waiter scribbled down our orders and left, Philip clinked his gla.s.s against mine. ”Welcome to the Big Apple, Meng Ning.”
”Thank you,” I said, feeling a little breathless in the company of such a gorgeous man.
Now I noticed that Philip was wearing a perfectly tailored beige suit and a gold silk tie. His thick mop of blond hair swayed to his fluid movements as if it had a life of its own. When he talked, he gestured a lot with his delicate hands and sensuous fingers. His eyes, blue and unfathomable as the night sky, possessed a dreamy expression as if he were forever enamored with this floating world.
”You like c.o.ke a lot?”
”Yes, it's my favorite Western beverage.”
”You want to try my fifty-year-very-old Chateau Lafite-Rothschild?” Chateau Lafite-Rothschild?”
”What's that? No thanks.” Then I felt I had to challenge his emphasis on the very-old very-old drink. ”Philip, things have to be at least three to four hundred years old to be considered drink. ”Philip, things have to be at least three to four hundred years old to be considered very very old.” old.”
He chuckled; sparks flicked in his blue eyes like twinkling stars. He changed the subject. ”Since you dismiss my silver Lotus, hope you like this gold Palace?”
What should I say? The whole place smelled of money-old or nouveau-but to get rich was not my goal in life. Besides, as Yi Kong always pointed out, riches are transient and illusory.
However, I put on a stunning smile to match the stunning face across from me. ”I think anyone would be impressed by the Louvre or Buckingham Palace. Only I would never live in such a place-too uncomfortable to inhabit, just like your Lotus.”
”Meng Ning, what secret formula do you possess to make yourself so likeable? ”Philip stared straight at me, his voice sincere; his expressive blue eyes were now the color of Van Gogh's starry sky. ”Can I have the pleasure of knowing you better?”
Before I could respond, he continued. ”How come I'm always a step behind Michael?” He let out a chuckle. Now his hair glistened like Van Gogh's sunflower under the restaurant's golden light. ”Otherwise you could have been my my fiancee. Why is he always so lucky to get the best?” fiancee. Why is he always so lucky to get the best?”