Chasing Fireflies (Power of the Matchmaker)

by Taylor Dean

He opens the heavy wooden door with rusted hinges and we step inside. The foyer is so dimly lit, I wonder if we’ve entered the wrong place. Then we turn the corner and stumble into a magical oasis. Huge glass doors open onto an enclosed patio. The wood slat roof makes the area dark, but strings of lights illuminate it, creating an enchanting mood. There are only about ten tables covering the outdoor area and all but two are occupied.

  “Ahhhhh, Mr. Pow Pow, come and sit,” an elderly Chinese man invites. “Hello,” he says to me politely.

  “Do you mind if I order for you?” Julian asks. “There’s no menu.”

  “Okay,” I say, as I scan the surroundings. Traditional Chinese music plays from a CD player in a corner, making for a Zen-like atmosphere. It features woodwind sounds along with the plucking of soft strings, and occasional beats of percussion. A melodic female vocalist sings in a high, soothing falsetto.

  A small water feature in the opposite corner adds the constant sound of trickling water and a cool breeze wafts through the space.

  The sights, the sounds, inundate my senses and I think to myself, I’m in China. I’m actually in China.

  And the most interesting man I’ve ever met sits across from me.

  Julian and the elderly man exchange dialogue in Mandarin and the man disappears into the dark interior of the building.

  “You speak the language?” I ask.

  “Only a smattering. You pick it up when you live here. I’m very far from fluent though.”

  “This is . . .” I’m speechless. It’s not fancy. It’s like we’re sitting in someone’s backyard patio for a casual barbeque. “. . . charming,” I say finally.

  “The food will knock your socks off. I promise.”

  He offers his hand across the table and I take it, entwining our fingers together. He smiles that huge Julian smile I love so much.

  “I love the look of delight on your face,” he says. “I guess taking you here is a success.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “I’m racking up points.” He fist pumps the air.

  Reserved, he is not. “The points are already stacked in your corner. No worries there.” Even though we’ve already spent a lot of time together, technically this is our first real date—and so far, it’s close to perfect.

  “Tell me something, Julian, why aren’t you taken by now?”

  “Do you really want to talk about past relationships? Isn’t that taboo on a date?”

  “Does that mean you were once almost taken?”

  He sighs. “I was engaged once. I was working as an accountant. I had a perfect little job, a perfect little income, a perfect little condo, and a perfect little car. I had five suits, one for every work day of the week, and ten ties so I could mix and match. On Tuesday nights we ate at the local buffet. Thursday nights were yogurt night. Friday nights were filled with culture; the opera, the ballet, maybe a Broadway musical that had come into town. On Saturdays we typically caught a matinee at the theatre. Life should’ve been perfect, but I knew something was missing, I just wasn’t sure what. I felt like I was suffocating. My starched dress shirts were literally strangling me. I couldn’t see anything exciting in my future, just day after day of the same old thing until I retired and did more of the same old thing.”

  “What did you do about it?”

  “I asked her to come with me to China. She said I was crazy and stupid to leave my job, and maybe I was. Needless to say, we broke up.”

  “And are you happy here?”

  “Yeah. I feel like I’ve chosen my life and no one has dictated it to me. I like jeans and t-shirts. I hate shoes and socks. I like the craziness of the kitchen and I hate sitting at a desk. I need a little disorder in my life. I like to be spontaneous and unstructured. I like to try new things and see new places. My father thinks I’m highly irresponsible.”

  “I think you’ve been highly successful.”

  He cocks his head. “Thank you, Savannah.”

  “Not everyone is suited for the confines of an office.”

  “I might as well have been in jail. Working in the kitchen is always lively and busy and sometimes chaotic. I can experiment and create new dishes. I can visit with customers and meet new people. I don’t feel stymied and stagnant. I feel alive and free. I can fall asleep at night because I’m tired and my feet hurt from standing all day. I like that.”

  Julian is living his dream and it makes him happy.

  “You’ve found the right job for yourself. Have you ever heard this quote? Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. You work hard and put in a lot of hours. And yet you love every minute of it. There’s something to be said for that.”

  “I suppose you’re right. You get me, Savannah, and I need someone who gets me.”

  My cheeks grow hot. “We’re total opposites.”

  “You know what they say about opposites?”

  “Yes. They attract.” An outgoing man like Julian would be good for me. He’d keep me from spending too much time in my introverted world. But he’d let me have my quiet time whenever I needed it. He was thoughtful like that.

  Would I be good for him though? “Don’t you want someone in your life who is as sociable as you?”

  “I enjoy your quiet nature. You make me feel grounded.”

  I wonder if I’d feel like a ball and chain once the newness wore off.

  “What?” he asks perceptively. “What worries you?”

  “I might disappoint you.”

  He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Let me be the judge of that. Okay?”

  He knows his own mind. After all, when he’d realized he was unhappy, he’d changed his life. He doesn’t strike me as a man who is unsure about what he wants. On the contrary, he knows and he acts upon it. “Okay.”

  “You know what I love? I love that sometimes I have to strain to hear you when you speak. Your voice makes me feel calm. I may enjoy the chaos of the kitchen, but I dislike loud and boisterous people.” He shakes his head. “They hurt my ears.”

  I laugh aloud at that, feeling as though I’m getting a glimpse into what makes Julian tick. No socks and shoes, no suits, no starched shirts, no yogurt night, and no boisterous people. Got it. His preferences are as quirky as his humor.

  “So, why aren’t you taken, Savannah?”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. “I was engaged once also. It didn’t work out.”

  He seems to sense I don’t want to talk about the details. “I’m sorry.” Then he changes his mind. “Actually, I’m not sorry. His loss, my gain. But I’m sorry he caused you pain.”

  The food arrives then, served as usual in family style fashion, and I’m thankful for the interruption. Several bowls dot the table and Julian explains what each one is.

  “This is Wonton Soup. The filling inside the wontons is diced pork.” He points to another bowl. “These are Spring Rolls; they’re filled with fresh vegetables and then they’re fried. To die for, I might add.” As if he can’t wait, he takes a bite of a spring roll.

  He offers me a bite and I accept. The fresh flavors surprise me. “Mmmmm, that’s good.”

  “Right? Everything here is freshly made from scratch on a daily basis, that’s why it takes a while to get your order. Worth the wait. They even grow their own vegetables out back.” He scoops a spoonful of another dish onto his plate. “This is spicy, so be warned. It’s called Ma Po Tofu. The pepper powder they use is pretty hot. The dish is made with tofu, ground beef, and green onions. The other dish is Gong Bao Chicken. It includes dried chili and fried peanuts. This other dish is Steamed Buns; they also have a pork filling. And last but not least, sliced Peking Roasted Duck with a sweet bean sauce.”

  It’s an adventure to eat with Julian. He appreciates food and every nuance of flavor. We eat until we’re stuffed, then, not wanting to waste our leftovers, we drop off our to-go box at Julian’s apartment.

  “You’re right, Julian. That’s some of the best food I’ve
had since I’ve been here. Thank you.”

  “Not better than Burger, Burger, though. Right?” He winks.

  “No way. Bite your tongue.”

  “Good answer. All right, let’s go work off all that food,” he says, his hands running over his flat stomach.

  I assume he means walking. He doesn’t. After several blocks, we come across a park. The park boasts a playground filled with larger than life exercise machines. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “Before the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, China built somewhere around 50,000 of these adult playgrounds. They wanted to boost the nation’s fitness level. What do ya say? Are you up for it?”

  “Yeah.” Why not? We have the place to ourselves. It doesn’t feel gym-like, it feels playground-like—and that makes it feel fun. I climb onto the piece of equipment that resembles an elliptical and he steps onto the one that resembles a Nordic track-like ski machine.

  After what he’s told me about his life, an outdoor area to workout in suits his personality. In essence, a stifled life makes him claustrophobic. After my experience on the elevator, I understand him perfectly.

  “Do you come here often?” I ask.

  “Every day. I figure standing up in the kitchen all day isn’t really an exercise routine.”

  I look him over from head to toe and I don’t hide my actions. “No wonder you look so good.”

  “Do you realize you said that out loud, Savannah?”

  “Did I make you uncomfortable, Julian?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Was that flirting? I kinda liked it.”

  Am I flirting? I’m not really the flirty type. I’m encouraged by his reaction though. Maybe I should do it more often.

  “I’ve never been able to operate a ski machine. I’m not coordinated enough,” I note, watching him handle it like a pro.

  “C’mon over. I’ll teach you.”

  “All right. But I’m warning you, I’m hopeless.”

  I position my feet on the ski-like planks of metal and hold onto the handles. To my surprise, Julian joins me, placing his feet directly behind mine, and his hands on top of mine. “Who’s flirting now?” I say, even though I don’t mind at all. The close proximity feels good.

  “Just helping a lady in need.”

  And I am in need. In need of someone like Julian in my life.

  We fall silent as Julian begins working the machine with soft and slow movements. Together we glide along in perfect unison. I close my eyes and it’s as if we’re flying, lost in a world of our own. He keeps our pace at a gentle cadence and I like his hands on mine, his body pressed to mine.

  “Got it?” he whispers in my ear.

  For the first time I pay attention to the timing. Left foot forward, right hand forward. Right foot forward, left hand forward.

  “I think so.” As the machine slows to a stop, his hands travel up my arms, to my neck, and then cradle my face. Gently, he turns my head to the side and presses his lips to mine, our mouths melding together as one. He kisses me like I’m a porcelain doll and he fears I’ll break, but I love his soft and sweet kisses.

  After a few minutes, he steps down. “Okay, let’s see you do it.”

  It’s hard to concentrate after that kiss. I focus and start to work the machine and my rhythm immediately goes askew. I try, but I can’t regain momentum.

  “I can’t do it without you,” I say, laughing at my lack of synchronization skills.

  When I look down on him, he isn’t smiling. He’s utterly serious for a change. “I can’t either,” he says.

  I wonder what we’re talking about, because I know it sure as heck has nothing to do with the exercise machine.

  The moment passes as he holds out his hand and I take it. He hugs me close for a moment and I like my head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in my ears.

  “Let’s go. We have someplace to be,” he says.

  “We do?”

  He nods.

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  It turns out he bought tickets to an International Festival, held outdoors in a huge park. We take a taxi to our destination, and even then have a hard time fighting the huge crowd. It’s crazy and a little frenzied as we join the throng. We hold tightly to each other’s hands so we won’t be separated. When we find a spot amidst the standing crowd with a good view of the stage, Julian wraps his arms around me from behind, thus preventing anyone from coming between us.

  There’s an air of excitement palpably beating through the area. With Julian at my back, I don’t mind the crowds. I feel at one with him and no one else exists. As dusk hits, the show begins on the massive stage. There are literally thousands of dancers and singers doing so many things I have no idea where to focus. Gift bags are passed out to the audience members, filled with things we can wave in the air; little lights for the slow songs, giant clappers for applause, and neon cone lights for whenever we deem appropriate.

  Dakota and I had watched a few of these festivals when they were televised and I secretly wished I could attend one. Julian has now fulfilled that dream.

  The show tells the story of a young hero who goes to sea to retrieve some special artifact, but he gets swallowed up in the storm. To portray the sea, at least a hundred dancers come out and completely cover the huge stage in long strips of blue cloth. Then they proceed to hand ripple the material to represent waves.

  The hero now appears to be underwater and gigantic fish and jellyfish made out of balloons grace the stage. It’s quite a sight.

  With everything spoken in Chinese, the story loses consistency for me. A few numbers later, ballet dancers prance about and I have no idea what happened to the young hero. But it doesn’t matter, the sights and sounds are breathtaking. It’s an extravagant production, like Dancing with the Stars and American Idol times ten. There are even costumed people flying in the air above us on wires, and landing on the stage.

  Then a huge balloon jellyfish escapes as if it wants to be free and starts floating up into the night sky. I watch it, thinking this is one of my favorite moments in China. I’m in the midst of a huge and crazy concert, with Julian’s arms around me. What more can I ask for? I watch until the magical jellyfish disappears in the night sky. It’s free and so am I. Free to choose the man I want.

  All is right with the world.

  When it’s over, we stroll through the dimly lit park to a less populated area where we can catch a taxi without fighting crowds.

  As we walk through the deserted area, a sudden rain shower breaks loose, drenching us in seconds.

  “I love getting caught in the rain,” Julian mumbles as he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me deeply, surprising me with his intensity. He walks me backwards until we hit the huge trunk of a tree. He grabs my hands and holds them tightly above my head, effectively pinning me against the tree. He isn’t rough, he simply lets go of any and all restraint and doesn’t hold back as he lavishes me with a passionate kiss. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to run my fingers through his hair. Instead, I’m helpless—at his mercy—as he kisses me and I find it’s not a bad place to be. I receive his kiss and attempt to keep up and reciprocate. The rain engulfs us and we let it, as if we’re hiding inside of it—like it’s some sort of protective covering allowing us to share a moment alone.

  Now rain will always remind me of Julian.

  Our eager mouths open to each other and the kiss turns deep and searching. We merge together, body and soul, and I’ve never felt so close to another human being in my life. Every part of me is connected to him and I have no idea where I begin and he ends. We meld together as one and I realize my mother is right. When you find your other half, separation is agony. How did I ever survive life without Julian? All this time I’ve been lost and now I’ve found my home. We are like two random puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.

  We remain in our embrace for much longer than the usual goodnight kiss. It’s the longest a
nd most intense kiss we’ve shared and I don’t want it to end. It appears he doesn’t either. I feel strangely complete, as if I’ve always been filled with emptiness and never realized it. Julian fills me until I’m whole again. I love that he doesn’t hold back, that he allows his desire to roam free. I love this side of Julian, the one where he lets go of all constraints. I love that his passion is all for me, directed at me, and spent on me.

  Getting caught in the rain is now my favorite thing in the whole world. Stupid Piña Colada song. It’s really and truly stuck in my head. I’ll always think of it as our song.

  Especially now. I haven’t been kissed by Julian, I have been KISSED by Julian.

  There is a difference. I just didn’t know it until now.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  October

  A KNOCK ON my door finds me hurriedly spitting into the sink and rinsing the toothpaste out of my mouth, then running to answer it. Dakota is already up and out for the morning. It’s Miss Li.

  “Savannah, Julian is on the phone for you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Li.”

  She pauses. “He is the one, right, Savannah?”

  I beam. “Yes, he’s the one. The more time I spend with him, the more I’m sure.” I hesitate, having never said it aloud. “I love him.”

  I haven’t said it yet and neither has he, but I know. I’d spent every night of my life over the last week on Julian’s couch. After a long day of work, he liked to wind down and simply talk. No TV, no radio, no video games—no board games. Just good old fashioned conversation. The evening always ends with us kissing, sometimes sweetly, sometimes passionately. And I look forward to that moment every single second of every single day.

  Miss Li nods with approval. “I’m happy for you, Savannah. For both of you. The spectators see more of the game than the players”

  And Miss Li is certainly a spectator. But I enjoy her motherly concern and don’t mind at all. In fact, it’s been nice to have someone I can talk to. After Julian walks me home each evening, Miss Li always inquires about my day. It’s code for: how was your date with Julian? I think she’s living her life vicariously through me.