“I’m alive... what a novel concept.”
He puts the rose next to the thorn prick and notes the colors are the same. “Wow. That’s so cool.”
BANG. BANG. BANG. The loud knocking from the living room door startles Todd back to reality. Like Adam in the Garden of Eden, he cringes as he sees his naked body. “What the…”
He sees the folded pile of clothes—he never folds his clothes.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“Coming, coming.”
He quickly pulls on a pair of pants and shirt, doing up the buttons as he makes his way through the living room.
As he passes, Todd tosses the rose inside the grand piano. “Don’t need that.”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“Keep your panties on. I’m here.”
He opens the door to see Angela. Well, maybe don’t keep the panties on.
“I’m… surprised. Thought I saw… Were you… ” Reflecting over the time at the Ho Inn confuses Todd and he’s not sure what’s what and what he should say and if he should say it. Was she there or was it Fen Jiu or is he really going nuts?
“Can I come in?”
“Of course. My bad.” He motions her in.
Angela looks morosely at Todd. “I’m sorry I disappeared. I had to hide.”
“Your mom explained to me about your sister. I understand.” But what about the Ho Inn?
“No you don’t. No one can understand.”
“I’ve been to hell. I’ve taken people to hell. Try me.”
“I was mortified.” Angela scuffles her feet, hesitating. “I felt that you were seeing inside me... I didn’t like... I don’t like being vulnerable. Guess you think I was pretty stupid.”
“Don’t think that at all.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” As a matter of fact, I hope we do a lot more than talk.
“I had the weirdest dream last night.”
The hairs on the back of Todd’s neck rise.
“Yeah? What happened?”
“I was in this crazy little retro restaurant in Chinatown talking to some guy I never met. He showed me some Chinese newspaper and neither of us knew what it said. And then you came along and screamed at me. Pretty weird, eh?”
“Yeah. What happened after that?”
“Nothing. I woke up and I was in my room. No you, no stranger, no restaurant, just me.”
“What was the name of the restaurant?”
“I think… no, I just don’t remember. Is it important?”
“No, it’s no big deal.” Todd’s off kilter but trying to regroup. “Listen. Why don’t you play the piano?”
“I have an oddball dream and you want me to do what?”
“Play the piano. It’s therapy, you know what I mean?”
“No.” Angela begins stroking Todd’s face, dancing her fingers through his hair sensually. “I want to play something else if that’s okay with you. A different kind of therapy.”
“As in Marvin Gaye?”
Angela smiles seductively. “You got it. Sexual healing, it’s so good for me.”
“Helps to relieve my mind.”
Todd allows Angela’s caresses to arouse him. Angela pulls Todd in close to her body and kisses him deeply.
Hands begin exploring...
Todd begins unbuttoning Angela’s blouse...
Angela unbuttons Todd’s shirt...
And then they kiss. On the face, on the lips, exploring more and more…
The kisses get deeper...
Her tongue thrusts into his mouth and Todd pushes back.
Temperature’s rising quickly. It’s an inferno in here.
Todd gazes deeply into Angela’s eyes and sees that there is one blue eye, one green eye.
Todd stops and his complexion whitens with gut-wrenching fear. He recounts the detail with precision…
Catherine, carrying a long-stemmed rose, nears the top of a decrepit landing in the back of Beijing’s Double Star Theater.
The entrance door swings open and a panicked Todd flies out, knocking her off-balance.
He stumbles, trying to grab her, but falls on top of Catherine instead. He glares at her. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?
Catherine hands him the rose as Todd untangles himself. “Hi, Todd. It’s Catherine. I brought this for you. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Todd snatches the flower and takes a quick glance at Catherine’s face—one eye is green, the other is blue...
... just like Angela’s.
“You’re Jasmine’s sister, Catherine.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Is that a problem?” Angela suddenly lashes out with a vicious kick to Todd’s groin that sends the pianist flying toward the ceiling with a force far beyond that of Angela’s blow.
He crashes and tumbles toward the floor, sprawling.
“It took you long enough.”
Todd painfully tries to struggle to his feet but he’s can’t—the agony is too much.
“Angela... Catherine... Who are you? What are you?”
Angela interrupts. “Wrong question.” She gives him a kick to the head.
Todd reels, then collapses. “Wait. Angela, Catherine...”
“I’ve waited for years to do that and you what?” Angela sneers. “It felt damn good.”
She buttons her blouse as she saunters away.
Todd fights to stand up, then stumbles.
Connect the dots, Todd. Connect the dots. Angela is Catherine, Jasmine’s stepsister. For years, Jasmine has been following me but never said a word, until now. Why? Catherine’s birth mother was an actress… Jasmine’s father was a set designer… They married, came to America… and were killed…
Forcing every molecule in his body to obey, he stands tall. “No way.”
Chapter 23
Todd bangs on the Shanghai Gallery’s door. “Liang. Open up.”
No answer so Todd tries forcing the door open. He puts his shoulder to it but it doesn’t budge. Kicking doesn’t work either.
“You cannot do this to me anymore.”
He takes a running leap at the door but it still won’t budge.
He glares, then huffs off down the street to Bamboo Curios.
Todd barges in and inside he encounters the “hyper-reality” existence again.
He warily confronts Susan, who watches warily as he steps up to the counter.
“You died before Jasmine and I met. You and your husband were murdered in this city. In Chinatown.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know.”
“Liang was your husband, right?”
“Wrong. Liang is my husband.”
“You must know. I did not take Jasmine’s life, either intentionally or unintentionally. Why don’t the dead want to accept the truth?”
“Why don’t the living want to accept their responsibility?”
Todd throws up his hands in frustration. “It was a bloody act. All I did was everything I was supposed to do. Whatever Jasmine said to do, I did it.”
***
Jasmine sits at in the workshop at the Xing-xing Xiyuan Theatre with Todd. She is tightening screws on a metronome as Todd looks on skeptically.
“Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Of course I’m sure. I learned it from my father.”
“Yeah but he isn’t around to supervise this.”
“Relax, Todd.”
“I am relaxed. No, I lied. I am not relaxed. This is a crazy idea.”
“Then that’s good. Ordinary isn’t good enough. Very good isn’t good enough. Excellent isn’t good enough. We have to operate outside of the box, do something special, do something crazy. That’s the only way I can stand out.”
She hands the metronome to Todd. “Here.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Lie down.”
“Shall I take my clothes off?”
“Very funny. Just lie down.”
Todd obediently lies down on the floor.
Jasmine takes the metronome and holds it high over her head.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Do you trust me or not?”
“Can I plead the fifth?”
“What’s that?”
“Never mind. Just do it.”
“Okay. When you come down hard, make sure that your palm is what lands first. Angle the metronome in such a way that the audience will not see the palm but think that it’s the metronome that’s hitting me.”
“That’s totally sketch.”
Jasmine demonstrates. With as much force as she can muster, she brings down the metronome and strikes Todd on the cheek. Upon impact, blood squirts out of the metronome.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t be a baby. That’s just fake blood inside the metronome.”
“I’m still freaked and even it it’s just your palm, it still hurt.”
“What is it Americans say? No pain, no gain. Well, a little pain never hurt anybody.”
“Are we supposed to believe that you actually can’t tell the difference between when someone is acting and someone is really injured?”
Susan pulls out a shotgun and aims it at Todd. Todd raises his arms in surrender.
“Wasting me will not solve anything. Then nobody will ever know what happened. Susan, I want to know more than anyone else. If you pull the trigger, you will kill an innocent man.”
“I will not kill an innocent man. I will give justice for my stepdaughter’s murderer.”
Susan fires. The bullet flies through the air in slow motion.
Todd dives to the floor and watches the bullet pass by him and shatter the storefront window into a million reflective bits.
“I told you I’m innocent,” Todd screams.
He looks up to Susan but she’s not there. In fact, nothing is there. The Bamboo Curios is an empty shop full of cobwebs, devoid of anything to sell, broken counters... nobody has been here for a long time.
“Nooo!”
Hyper-reality continuing and confusion reigning, Todd races out of the shop, blazing through the busy Oriental street. Fear drives him faster than he’s ever run in his life...
Todd, totally unnerved and panting for breath, constantly checks every motion to see its source.
He hears soft fragments of voices in Chinese—whispering, screaming, crying, laughing, rustling, scurrying.
Out of nowhere, a young Chinese coolie with jet-black pigtails appears and Todd runs into him and the two fall to the ground.
Todd sits up and tries to help the coolie up but instead of the laborer, there is an old, wizened Chinese man smoking an opium pipe.
The old man offers the pipe to Todd. “I think you need this.”
Todd refuses but in front of his eyes, the old man fades into the ether.
The friendly neighborhood has lost its innocence. Sounds and voices emanate from the ancient Chinatown buildings. They are the voices of Chinese laborers from over a century ago, wishing they had never left China to come to make a fortune that never appeared.
“Help me! I haven’t seen my son and he’s ten years old.”
“I need money to send my body to China.”
“Opium. Where’s the opium?”
The cacophony haunts Todd as he makes his way past the Chinese athletic associations, the curio shops, Asian restaurants and family clan buildings.
All sound stops as Todd arrives at the Shanghai Gallery.
He tries the door but it still won’t unlock. However, without assistance, the side entrance to the upper floors swings open.
The hyper-reality ends.
Chapter 24
Todd climbs the stairs to the fourth floor and steps fearfully to the end of the dark hallway to Cam’s apartment. From the recesses of his mind, an Edgar Allan Poe poem springs from a high school memory.
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
He stops and hammers on the door. “Cam, open up.”
Todd waits but there is no answer.
He tries the doorknob and the door opens into an empty room with no furniture, no pictures, faded, peeling wallpaper, flooring breaking off, cracks in the ceiling.
However, there are sheets of yellow legal pad paper with Cam’s handwriting everywhere—they are taped to the wall, laid out on the floor.
He steps inside and walks to the wall. He reads one of the yellow sheets and his brow furrows, puzzled.
“The primary research objective of this paper is to improve the understanding of crude oil in the shallow subsurface.”
Todd studies another sheet.
“We wish to design better control and removal treatments with defined composition and physicochemical properties.”
Todd sees a closed bedroom door and walks to it.
He opens the door and sees Cam and Angela having sex on top of a bed. They are oblivious to Todd watching. Angela’s on top and Cam squeezes her very ample breasts, which bob as she thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. An hour ago, Todd had hoped that it would be him with Angela. But now?
“Yes, my god, yes.” See what you are missing, Todd, you asshole. “Do it more. Harder.”
“I aim to please, you nasty bitch.”
“Yes, I am. Oh, oh.” You men are all alike. Treat me like a hooker and think you’re king bee. Neanderthal.
Angela looks to the side of the room and pretends that she sees Todd standing like a Peeping Tom at the door for the first time.
“Aaah! Pervert. Get out of here.”
She quickly pushes Cam off and pulls the covers over herself.
Cam looks to Todd with murder in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing, Todd?”
“You just called me Todd.”
“Of course I called you Todd. That is your name, isn’t it?
Todd’s not understanding any of this. “Okay, Cam, What’s your game? You always call me Piano Man.”
“You are some piece of work. You interrupt a man making love to his wife and want to ask about Billy Joel?”
This is the final straw. Todd takes a deep breath, then slowly exhales. “I am going to leave this building. I’m gonna go pack my stuff and disappear.”
“You are so lucky. We would too but what with me still working on my Ph.D. thesis, money is tight.”
The inconsistencies confound Todd. “You’re a writer of ghost stories.”
“Todd, are you okay? I am a doctoral student in geophysics.”
“And you love it here. You even helped renovate the building.”
Angela pulls off the covers. “Who are you kidding? The roof leaks, walls need painting, faucet drips constantly, who needs a slum landlord like Liang?”
Todd stares at the naked couple, then exhales. “You’re absolutely right. Sorry to disturb you.”
Cam and Angela watch as Todd exits the room and closes the door.
Angela gets out of bed and starts dressing.
Cam tries to pull her back down. “Hey, I was just getting started.”
“So am I.” Angela speaks disdainfully. “But not with you.”
Cam lights a cigarette. “At least I got the nasty bitch part right.”
She cups her breasts and pushes them into Cam’s face. “One hot nasty bitch.”
Chapter 25
Todd steps outside of Cam’s apartment and the door slams behind him.
Then he hears something that sends chills to the fibers of his being... the spastic ticking of a metronome from somewhere down the hall.
“Cam! Cam!” He tries to open the
door to his drinking buddy’s apartment but it is locked tight. “Cam! Cam!”
The only answer is silence. Damn. Todd bounds down the flights of steps to the door to the Shanghai Gallery.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Suddenly the sound of the erhu playing the melancholy melody joins the ticking of the metronome. The sound floods the hallway and Todd’s totally freaked.
Todd hears the creak of a door opening. It’s not the door to the street but he rotates his head to see that the Shanghai Gallery door has opened and beckons him in.
The metronome stops but the erhu continues.
Todd enters to see Liang facing the front window, playing the Chinese instrument. In the window, the reflection shows no image of Liang, only the erhu playing by itself.
“Liang! Liang!”
Todd dashes to the Chinese man and tries to shake him but Todd’s hand passes through an incorporeal body that continues playing.
At the back of the room, beside one of the Chinese paintings, he sees a sliver of light.
He walks to the light source and enters Liang’s workroom and sees the chaotic mixture of yin and yang, high tech and traditional Chinese.
Todd inhales in realization when he sees the large pictures of Jasmine in costume on the walls. He turns his eye to the bench and sees the smaller 8” X 10” black-and-white photo of the innocent Jasmine.
It’s a creepy feeling as Todd examines the room, finally seeing Liang standing silently in the doorway.
Liang steps back into the Shanghai Gallery as Todd runs toward him.
“Liang!” shouts Todd but there is no answer.
Susan stands beside Liang as Todd enters.
The room starts to rumble and Todd feels as if he’s in the middle of an earthquake. “No!” but that does not stop the tremors.
All the fixtures stay in place but they sway dangerously.
Then the room begins to transform.
Todd looks around in abject dread and then amazement as the front window breaks and glass shards fall to the floor...
The wallpaper fades and peels and the elaborate woodwork metamorphoses to cracked old wood...
The elegant Chinese watercolor paintings disappear, changing into old cheap calendars and pinup girl posters.
Ghosts of Chinatown Page 10
