Lisa’s voice, mingled with the tobacco, wafted bittersweet toward me. “That fiancé was Michael. We were engaged.”

Back home, I felt dizzy and had a terrible headache. I paced back and forth in Michael’s apartment, waiting for the click of the door to bring his face.

Michael finally came home at 11:00 PM. Before he even had a chance to take off his jacket, I told him that I had spent the evening with Lisa and that we needed to talk-right here and now.

“All right. I’ll explain. Let’s sit down.” He led me to sit on the sofa. “Meng Ning, yes, Lisa and I were engaged-a few years ago.”

“For how long?”

He hesitated, then said, “Five.”

“Five years? You were engaged for so many years and didn’t marry her?”

Michael didn’t answer my question. He continued on a different track. “After I’d become Professor Fulton’s student and gotten to know Lisa, he’d take us together to museums and concerts. In the beginning I did feel affection for her…she seemed interesting and intelligent.” He paused. “But then it turned out she has a personality disorder-”

“What do you mean?”

“She has frequent nervous breakdowns. When I told her I was going to break the engagement, she tried to slash her wrists… Meng Ning, this was all in the past-can we just not talk about it now?”

Then the fortune-teller’s reading poured into my mind:

Some of his relatives, like his mother, father, or even son, will sacrifice their lives for him so that he can live a good life in this incarnation…his love life will not be smooth. In fact, it’s rather troubled. He might have more than one marriage.

I blurted, “So you also have a son with Lisa?”

Michael looked stunned. “Did she tell you that?”

“No. Remember, the Master of Living Buddha said you’ll have two marriages, and your son-” Now I understood Michael’s nervousness about his reading.

“Did you have a son with her?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, heavens, then where is he now?”

“He never lived. She aborted him during her fourth month of pregnancy.”

“You didn’t try to stop her?”

“She only told me after the abortion.”

“Is it because of your guilt that you stayed with her for so long?”

“Meng Ning, I’m too exhausted to go into this and I have another very hectic day tomorrow. Can we talk about this some other time?”

Through the night, though Michael slept as if comatose, I flipped and tossed by his side, imagining his wild past with Lisa. I also couldn’t help but imagine how he’d done it with her. Had he cupped her breasts as tenderly as he cupped mine? Had he whispered into her ears the same endearing phrases he whispered into mine? Had he slipped his tongue into her mouth and let it indulge itself in all kinds of decadent pleasures as it did in mine?

20. Philip Noble

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 space 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 snatched 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 Noble, 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…”

Still feeling very confused and upset, I went to the kitchen and imitated a Cantonese café 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 glass 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 glass, 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 Noble.”

“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, 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 café 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 Goddess.”

“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 passersby 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.”