by Taylor Dean
No, it could be worse. So much worse. If I’d given myself to him, I have a feeling I’d still face this exact situation eventually. Thank goodness I can take back my heart.
Some things can’t be taken back.
At least I can walk away with my head held high. I just want to escape. My numb body falters and weaves as I clumsily make my way down to the bottom. With every breath, I inhale deeply, attempting to remain calm. My efforts backfire as my body succumbs to hyperventilation from the extra oxygen intake. I fight my alien hands and they win. Holding the stair railing to keep myself steady becomes impossible.
I’ve reached my status quo when it comes to smothering panic attacks in this building. No more are allowed.
He is not Paul. He is not Paul.
Feeling anesthetized to life, I catch a taxi and go to Burger, Burger, having no idea where else to turn. Burying myself under my covers for a good cry doesn’t appeal to me. I have all night for that. The rest of my life in fact. In my present state of mind, the idea of being alone fills me with despair. This is one of those rare moments where I crave being around other people, around life. That way I’ll know the world hasn’t ended.
Because it sure feels like it has.
I stand outside the restaurant for several moments, willing myself to relax. The urge to partake in a deep, soul wrenching cry besieges me, but I swallow it down and tuck it away for later. It’ll be there when I’m ready to embrace it. Presently, my primary emotion is somewhat akin to grief. My dream has slipped through my fingers. I found Paul and lost him.
What now? If he’s not in China, then why am I here?
My mind draws a complete blank at the thought. I let blinding numbness consume me.
Upon entering the restaurant, I’m embraced by remnants of home. The familiar smells. The juke box playing Here Comes the Sun. My fellow teachers. Mr. Pow Pow cooking in the kitchen.
My safe place.
Paul Brooks doesn’t exist here. He doesn’t even belong here. He’d be as out of place in my world as I’d been in his.
Hunter notices me hovering in the doorway. “Savannah, you’re here! Come sit down. We just barely ordered. You haven’t missed anything.”
I love Hunter.
Feeling robotic, yet grateful for company, I join them. Desperately, I try to pretend as though my world has not just shattered into a million tiny pieces. With the conversation at the table already underway, it’s easy to blend in and let my magic cloak do the rest.
“You okay?” Dakota whispers in my ear.
We’ve become good friends, therefore she possesses the ability to perceive my emotions. Maybe a little too well. I don’t lie. I shake my head in the negative.
Dakota squeezes my hand under the table. “We’ll talk at home.”
I love Dakota.
Dinner passes in a blur. The scene in Paul’s apartment keeps playing through my mind over and over, as if a movie reel constantly running. Our brief, yet promising, relationship had ended before it had really begun.
The patrons in the restaurant slowly dwindle, and those left are still lingering over dinner.
Julian approaches the table, a slight swagger in his walk, his backwards baseball cap tipped at an angle. He’s certainly a man comfortable in his own skin. “Ready to do some cookin’?” he asks.
“I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” Stacy gushes. “What are we making?”
“Chinese dumplings.”
He leads us to a back room that I had no idea existed. It includes a full kitchen and is all set-up for a cooking lesson. Mr. Tang is there to help and to translate for the five Chinese people also taking the class, but Julian is the one teaching tonight. “Okay,” Julian says. “The first thing we’re gonna do is learn how to make a basic dumpling dough. I promise you already have the ingredients in your kitchen at home, you just didn’t know you could turn them into something amazing.”
He proceeds to pour boiling water from a kettle into a measuring cup. “We only want this to cool for a few minutes. That’s it.” Next he pours flour into a mixer. Then he adds the water. “We’re going to mix the dough until it holds its shape when pinched and then, pow, it’s done.”
“I thought flour and water made glue,” Hunter comments.
“Only in kindergarten.”
Everyone laughs except me. Julian’s eyes rest on me for a moment. He cocks his head to one side and casts me a questioning look.
I don’t have it in me to even try to look happy. I avert my eyes and decide to not make eye contact for the rest of the demonstration. My heart isn’t in this, but I’d rather be here than wallowing in self-pity all alone. I just can’t be alone right now.
“Now we place the dough on a lightly floured surface and knead it for a minute or so. If you press on it, it should bounce back.”
His perfect specimen bounces back as if obeying his command.
“Pay attention, here’s the secret to the dough. Place it in a bowl and seal it tightly with plastic wrap. Let it rest for about two hours. The warm dough will steam up the bowl and become . . . as soft as I imagine Savannah’s skin to be.”
My eyes fly to his. He even has the audacity to wink at me. My instincts are so completely muddled, I all but scowl in response. His subtle flirting is not in my imagination. What does he want from me? Does he find it funny to get a rise out of the quiet girl? His smile slowly dies and he studies me thoughtfully.
It’s just a joke—a flirtatious one. I know that. But I don’t feel like laughing. Not at all. Inside of me, a raging storm is brewing as if it’s about to consume me, body and soul.
“Stacy has really soft skin too,” Lori chimes.
“Lori has the softest skin I’ve ever touched.” Jason runs one hand up and down her arm.
Julian hesitates, looking a little irritated at the turn the conversation has taken. “All right, that’s enough of that.” He goes on. “I already have some dough ready to go.” He flours the surface, grabs a piece of dough, rolls it into a log, and cuts it into ten one inch pieces. He dips each piece in flour and smashes them into a small circle using his palm. Then he uses a rolling pin to form them into thin perfect circles.
He claps his hands. “Okay, now I want you to do it. Grab a station and let’s make dumplings.”
“Make them ourselves? I can’t do that,” Stacy protests.
“Sure you can. You’ll be an expert by the end of the night.”
In spite of Julian’s optimistic outlook, he spends a great deal of time helping Stacy through the process.
His practiced hands made it look easy. Working with the dough, however, isn’t quite as simple as he’d made it seem. I set to work, thankful for the slow, rhythmic busywork of my hands. Somehow I find that elusive switch in my mind and silently click it to the OFF position and there I let it stay, concentrating on the task at hand.
A meltdown sits perched on the horizon, patiently awaiting me like a long lost friend. For the time being, I prefer to pretend like my life hasn’t just changed in a monumental way.
In a colossal way.
In an epic I’ll-never-be-the-same way.
So much for the OFF button in my mind. Cleary it has as many glitches as Paul’s elevators. I groan inwardly. Why do all thoughts lead to Paul? I’m not ready to cope with the aftermath of Paul Brooks.
Julian demonstrates how to put together a quick pork and cabbage filling. Then Mr. Tang proceeds to teach us three different methods for folding the dumplings; a half moon, a pea pod, and a big hug.
“Nice job, Savannah.”
Julian stands behind me, his mouth to my ear. His close proximity makes me want to shy away from him. Will my experience with Paul make me wary of all men? Do they all have secret motives I’m too naïve to realize?
It’s my own fault. I practically threw myself at Paul. Looking back, I realize he was simply taking what I was offering.
I saw the article about you in the UT campus magazine. I came here because I wanted to meet you. I inwardly crin
ge. No wonder he’d drawn the wrong conclusions. My words and actions were all saying yes.
When Julian reaches out to help me with a fold, his hand on mine feels like I’ve just been scorched. It makes me flinch and I snatch my hand away from his as if I’m in pain from being burnt. He steps away rather deliberately.
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking upon me with concern.
We stand there staring at each other for at least thirty seconds. Two little words of kindness, a show of respect, and a sign of sympathy; that’s all it takes. The floodgates are about to open.
I hesitate as my eyes scan the room. Everyone has stopped what they’re doing to stare at the commotion. Dakota raises her eyebrows at me, wondering what’s going on. The last thing I wanted to do is make a scene and call attention to myself. But I’d done exactly that.
I drop what I’m doing and flee the kitchen. The tears start to fall as I bumble through the restaurant and burst through the doors, running as fast as my legs will carry me. The cool night air feels good on my hot face, which is now streaked with heartfelt tears. The moisture blurs my vision as a sob bursts forth, unrecognizable as coming from myself.
“Savannah, wait!”
It’s Julian. He’s coming after me. All at once, this man I hardly know stands in front of me, holding my shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?”
Unable to speak, I shake my head in the negative. He pulls me close and I sob into his chest, watering his t-shirt.
He doesn’t try to stop my tears. “Just let it out,” he consoles. “You looked like you were a dam waiting to burst from the moment you walked into the restaurant this evening.”
Once again, the vision of him pointing his v-shaped fingers at himself and then at me plays through my mind.
He notices me and I’m not used to being noticed.
“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable during the lesson tonight. I just wanted to make you smile,” Julian says.
“I appreciate that.” I cry until I’m spent. The tears flow for an embarrassingly long period of time, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He slowly rocks me in his arms in a soothing fashion and I begin to calm down. “Don’t you need to get back to the restaurant?”
“Nah. Mr. Tang took over for me. All they had left was cooking the dumplings anyway. They’ll be fine without me. He speaks excellent English.”
When my tears subside, his arms relax and slowly release me. We stand there facing each other and I don’t know what to do next. “Sorry about your shirt.”
He shrugs. “It’ll dry.”
I take a deep cleansing breath that sounds shaky even to my own ears.
“Why don’t we take a walk?” he suggests. “I think you need a breather.”
“Okay.” He holds out his arm and I link my arm through his.
The streets of Zhongshan are unnaturally quiet at this time of night, although honking can still be heard in the distance, a reminder that a bustling city is only a stone’s throw away. China is currently celebrating their Mid Autumn Festival and red lanterns adorn the streets, creating quite the sight. The light of the lanterns shining down on us creates an instant magical feel. I wish the circumstances were a little different. If they were, this would be the ultimate romantic moment.
At first we walk in silence. His comforting presence has a calming effect upon me. I enjoy our silent stroll and the simple feel of not being alone in my sorrow. I don’t know how much time passes, I only know I feel safe.
“Did you try a moon cake?” he asks.
During Mid Autumn Festival it seems as though they are being sold everywhere you turn. They are a small, round, very dense cake with a medallion imprint on top. In the middle is a hardboiled egg yolk.
“I don’t care for them. Hunter loves them though.”
“He’ll eat anything,” Julian says with a laugh. After a short pause, he asks the loaded question. “Want to talk about what happened?”
I respond by saying, “Can I ask you a question? A man question?”
“Oh, one of those. I’ll try my best to answer it, but I’m not promising anything.”
I want to smile, but I don’t. Julian has already shown he has a peculiar sense of humor, so I don’t mind his levity. Someday, I promise myself I’ll look back and laugh at this day.
Someday. But not today.
“What does it mean when a man asks a woman to go back to his place?”
We stop and face each other.
He lets out his breath and scrunches up his face as he ponders my question. “Play board games?” When I don’t react, he says, “No? Not funny?”
My eyes fill with tears.
His face turns dark. “Sorry.” Then he asks, “Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he force himself on you?”
“No.”
He looks down at the ground, perhaps gathering his thoughts.
“What does it mean, Julian?”
“Honestly, it means different things to different men.”
“I’m an idiot.” Tears wander down my cheeks. “I thought he just wanted to show me his penthouse apartment. The thought never even occurred to me. I mean, it was only our third date, if you count getting stuck in an elevator together. Why would I think . . . ?”
He closes and opens his eyes as if his eyelids are very heavy.
“I feel like a naïve, stupid little fool and . . .”
“Don’t,” he says, just like he did the other night to Jason and Lori.
“Don’t what?
“Just don’t. It’s what my mom always said to us when we behaved badly. Don’t. It’s good advice. She never expounded on it, yet we knew exactly what she meant.”
The plain and simple word suddenly seems profound.
Don’t.
He’s right. I need to stop berating myself. Paul had been assuming a lot. “He had a woman in his apartment. A scantily clad woman. He told her to wait in his bedroom. Right in front of me.”
Julian raises one eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
I bob my head. I like that he’s shocked by Paul’s behavior. It says a lot about him. “I didn’t see that coming. Not at all.” After a moment of silence, I say, “He probably doesn’t even like getting caught in the rain.”
Julian grins. “That’s a deal breaker.”
A half cry, half laugh escapes my lips. “Should . . . should I have known that’s what he wanted when he invited me to his place?” I don’t tell him about the kisses on every stair level. Looking back, his intentions seem obvious. And I feel very, very blind. I also feel like I need to take a shower and scrub myself clean. If only that could erase the sullied feeling overwhelming me right now.
His breath whistles through his teeth. “I think it’s to your credit that you didn’t.”
A diplomatic answer. “I asked him for a tour.”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked him for a tour of his apartment. I was excited to see it. Actually, I kinda thought that’s what we were there for.”
Julian’s lips mesh together. Then a little belly laugh escapes. Then another one. He deliberately stops himself. “Sorry. But I bet you threw him for a loop.”
“Go ahead. Laugh.” It’s funny in a pathetic kind of way.
“No.”
“If you hold it in, you’ll burst.”
“I’m sorry, but I think that’s kind of adorable.”
Adorable? At five years old, I liked being called adorable. Now, not so much. “Apparently he didn’t think so. When he didn’t get what he wanted, and I guess what he thought I wanted too, he dropped me like a hot potato and moved on. Just like that.” I thought he was developing feelings for me. Now I doubt he ever felt anything other than physical attraction. Even his talk about having a companion in life now felt as though he was simply repeating what he thought a woman wanted to hear.
No, that’s not fair. He isn’t a villain. He’d never forced me to do anything. Even when he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d been kin
d. He didn’t lose his temper and try to force me to do anything. The results of that evening could’ve been so much worse. I suddenly realize how lucky I am to have escaped with only a broken heart.
“C’mon, it’s getting late. I’ll walk you home,” Julian offers.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. I’m sure everyone else has already left the restaurant. We need to get you home so you can make curfew.”
“Thank you, Julian.”
“No problem.”
He sets a leisurely pace, as if he isn’t in a hurry. “Do you miss the States?” he asks, obviously trying to help me think of something else.
I decide to welcome the subject change. Dwelling on the events of the evening makes me feel depressed.
“As much as I love China, I find myself missing so many things about home.”
“Sometimes we have to see what life is like elsewhere to appreciate what we have. Not that it’s bad here, it’s just very different from what we’re used to.”
The full moon hangs low in the night sky, looking like a huge monstrosity about to take over the heavens.
“Beautiful moon tonight.” Julian doesn’t so much as walk next to me, as stroll. I find his demeanor . . . peaceful, and the feeling surprises me. He possesses a confident air about him, as if he’s content with life.
“It is.”
“That full moon represents completeness to the Chinese and is what prompts the Mid Autumn Festival. They associate being complete with reuniting family members. It’s a big holiday for them.”
I love any holiday that brings families together, but I don’t say anything.
“Bill Anders, the astronaut, was one of the first men to fly to the moon. They didn’t land, but they took amazing pictures. Oddly enough, the most amazing pictures were of the earth. He said, ‘Here we came all the way to the moon to discover Earth.’ Many others have said something similar. They were actually on the moon, yet they were obsessed with the view of the Earth. The moon is barren and desolate. Space is a black and white void of nothingness. The Earth is filled with vibrant color. Everyone who has been in space says their eyes were drawn to the Earth.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
