Goodbye, Orchid

by Carol Van Den Hende

  “You have everything you need?” Fiona asked, leaning forward to put a hand on his. Etched lines dragged the corners of her mouth towards the ground like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

  “Yeah, Mom’s made sure I have the best of everything. She even convinced insurance to maximize my inpatient rehab.” He didn’t want to talk about this. Just go.

  “Any cute nurses?” Fiona asked, running a hand through her hair.

  Dex brightened. “Didn’t you have something going with that L’Oreal marketer?”

  Fiona turned to face his chair. “Who?”

  “Orchid. She’s in China,” Phoenix said.

  “Oh, the one you brought to the Effies?”

  “Yeah, but we’re not in touch anymore.” The night before Orchid had left portended a future. One finger beneath his chin, she had brought his face closer to hers. She had leaned to bestow a kiss sweeter than caramel, her lips brushing his until he had lost any sense of time. What cruelty to have every memory paired with imagining her repulsion.

  Phoenix nodded his chin towards the card, seeking a distraction from the focus on him. “How’s everyone at the office?”

  “Everyone’s fine. Worried about you, of course. Liv really wants to come visit.”

  He didn’t want Liv to see him like this. “Tell her I’m not up for company.”

  Dex pushed up his sleeves, looked at Phoenix and pulled them back down. “She’ll be disappointed. She told me she’d feel better if she could see you.”

  “You sure she’d feel better?”

  Dex ignored the sharpness in his buddy’s tone. “You’d be proud to know Liv’s really stepped up.”

  Phoenix nodded. “She’s great. One of these days you should try her on a creative team.” Phoenix suddenly flashed to a vision of the agency running smoothly without him, Liv leading creative meetings, Dex managing the company. What can I add?

  “Do they know how long you’ll be here?” Fiona asked.

  “They’re saying another few weeks and I can come in for outpatient rehab.”

  “Well, we’re coming back next weekend, no excuses, you hear?”

  They got up, leaving him the only one seated.

  CHAPTER 15

  STORE-BOUGHT BONES

  Phoenix

  The cool, rubber-scented physical therapy rooms represented normalcy, his workday routine. Under Nadine’s tough and patient tutelage, Phoenix learned the purpose of every mat, table and set of parallel bars. He practiced over and over, his muscles memorizing new routines.

  Early on, Nadine explained how Phoenix was lucky. She showed him his portion of her notebook.

  “LBK—left below the knee—means you can walk with a completely normal gait. You’re really just missing an ankle and a foot.”

  “Oh, is that all?” he asked dryly.

  She liked his work ethic. “You really push yourself,” she commented.

  “Well, better that than to picture my mom wheeling my chair or sponge-bathing me,” he deadpanned, huffing between repetitions of sit-ups to strengthen his core muscles.

  After a few weeks together on a daily basis, Nadine got his vibe pretty well. He refused her encircling arms and grimaced as he stumbled while practicing on stairs, hopping with one hand on a railing. She cocked an eyebrow at him, a sure sign she was about to give advice.

  “I know you’re really pushing yourself towards independence, and that’s great.” He nodded, waiting for the but while forcing himself upright. “But,” she continued, “if you do need help, or need to look foolish, don’t let pride get in your way.”

  Sweat dripping, he pulled out his ready shield of sarcasm.

  “Easy for you to say as you stand there on two feet, two perfectly good hands on your hips as you judge me.”

  “Hey,” she said softly, “I like you well enough I’d give you one of mine if I could.”

  Damned if that genuine look of concern didn’t make his chest swell with emotion.

  “Nah, no donor limbs for me, with the rejection drugs and all. But you’re really thoughtful, you know that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “With all that sweet talk, your girlfriend better get here soon,” she warned.

  He looked away. “There’s no girlfriend.”

  Even so, Phoenix thought of Orchid. She’d be returning from China the following Saturday. And expecting him at the airport. He couldn’t even get himself to a Starbucks, much less JFK.

  “Any woman would be crazy to turn you away,” Nadine assured.

  “There’s some kind of crazy going around, all right,” he responded.

  “Speaking of crazy,” she said, eyes twinkling with mischief, “can you believe all your progress in a month?”

  “Yup,” he shrugged, “tomorrow’s the one-month anniversary of my accident.”

  Nadine leaned back to examine his expression. “You know, maybe a month is too early, but people sometimes celebrate the anniversary of their near-miss with death as an ‘Alive Day.’ It’s better than mourning what was lost.”

  “You can ask me in a year, but you’ll have to pardon me if I don’t feel like celebrating right now.”

  The mischief effervesced higher in Nadine’s eyes. “You might change your mind when I tell you what we’re doing today.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, curiosity piqued. “You going to stretch me until I cry? Make me do another umpteen push-ups?”

  She stood, pointing at his chair. “Not quite. Let’s go get you fitted for prostheses.”

  “Today?”

  “Right now.”

  Phoenix pulled the chair closer. Then he pushed to a stand and lowered himself into the seat.

  “Ok,” he said, placing a hand on the push rim, “where to?”

  CHAPTER 16

  BLUE ORCHID

  Phoenix

  Phoenix’s phone buzzed with a familiar name.

  “Hi, Tish.”

  “So, I have news and the news is I’m engaged,” Tish said, giggling.

  “Congratulations, Tom’s the lucky guy, right?” Phoenix looked down at the form that would no longer be anyone’s lucky guy.

  “After nearly two years, he better be. We’ve a date set for the first week of April. It’s been hell securing a venue. Anything less than a year out is a crapshoot. You know weddings in the city. Wait—no you don’t! Forever the bachelor who breaks women’s hearts, right?”

  “Forever’s a long time, but you’re right, I’ve been fairly committed to bachelorhood.” Even more so now. No left-hand finger to even wear a ring.

  “Tell me the gossip. How’s Caleb? Veronica? I want details. I’ve not seen you since your dad’s funeral. Jesus, has it been a year already?”

  “Caleb’s surly as ever. My mom is hanging in there, and I’m four weeks into a multi-month staycation in rehab,” he said, thinking of the two family members looking as ravaged as he was.

  “Rehab? For months?”

  He didn’t particularly want to answer the concern ascending in her voice, so he kept to the barest details. He swallowed. “I fell onto a subway line.”

  “Holy shit. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” He thought for a moment. “What’s left of me, anyway.”

  “What do you mean, what’s left of you?”

  Gripped by sadness, he pictured their jaunts to Vegas, Joshua Tree and the wine country. Another goodbye to the person he was.

  “Damned train took a leg and my hand.”

  In the silence that followed, Phoenix pictured her hyperventilating.

  “Phoenix, I’m so sorry. Your poor mother. First your father and now this. What can I do? Should I send a fruit basket?” she asked, referencing an inside joke the couple had years ago as to the protocols of whether to send a fruit basket or flowers.

  If only there was somethin
g anyone could do.

  Tish came by that afternoon, Car and Driver magazine in one hand and a bouquet of Vanda orchids and blue sea holly in the other.

  “I figured you won’t be driving anytime soon, but it might help with inspiration,” Tish said as she her eyes skidded from Phoenix’s bandaged arm to his injured leg hanging down from the seat of the wheelchair.

  “This is me looking better,” he promised, wanting to wipe the look of horror from her face and his memory.

  She mechanically took the dozen steps from the room’s doorway towards him. “Maybe I should just put these down.” She placed the bouquet and magazine on his bedside table.

  Orchids, really? Like I need a reminder.

  He was relieved that at least she figured out not to give him anything, which would leave him with no hand for wheeling the chair.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, perched in the blue vinyl seat, finally eye level with him.

  “From the expression on your face, not as bad as I must look,” he replied, feeling as pained as she appeared.

  “To the contrary,” she denied. “You look . . . fit.”

  He knew what her expression meant. No sane woman would ever look at him the same again. Eligible bachelor no more. Catch no more. Player no more. Dreams, vanished. He swallowed past the ache crushing his chest.

  “Thanks,” he said, then turned the conversation to her. “So, how’s Tom?”

  “He’s good. I think he’s excited.” She pulled up photos from her smartphone, showing pictures from their engagement party, then shared their choice of venues and details about her wedding dress.

  There was no getting around it. While his life had taken a dive from which there was no recovery, others’ lives would progress.

  “I’m happy for you, Tish.”

  “Thanks. But I mean, it doesn’t seem so important now, with everything you’re going through.”

  “Don’t be silly. Life goes on. That’s the one thing I’ve learned. Hell, they even have a phrase for it—my ‘new normal.’ And next year in the spring, you’ll walk down the aisle and you and Tom will have a new normal.”

  Spouting other people’s crap didn’t sound any better coming from him.

  “In any event, I hate this is happening. Is there anything you need?”

  “Nothing you can offer,” he replied, squeezing his eyes as the corners of her mouth headed south.

  “I’ll tell you what. When you’re out of here, we’ll do something fun.”

  Fun? The concept sounded foreign.

  CHAPTER 17

  THERE’S NO HOME FOR YOU HERE

  Orchid

  Orchid’s most surprising experience in Beijing was looking Asian but not being treated as a Chinese citizen. Lips loosened with wine, she confessed her confusion to her R&D colleague over dinner.

  “We can see you are not Chinese from blocks away,” Orchid’s friend, Star, confirmed.

  “Because I’m only half Chinese?” Orchid sputtered, thinking how her mother’s genes had graced her with nearly black hair and deeply brown eyes.

  “No,” Star laughed correcting her. “Because of your dress. Your hair, toufa. Your mannerisms give you away like a schoolgirl.”

  Orchid looked down at the pleather edging her miniskirt.

  “Very funny, Star. But you know what’s unfair? In the US, people don’t think I look American enough. In China, people don’t think I’m Chinese enough. Guess I don’t fit in anywhere.”

  “You are pretty like Chinese and western like American.”

  That lightened Orchid’s mood. She smiled and sipped her putaojiu, or wine, and pictured what Phoenix would say. That she fit in anywhere. Or better yet, why he liked her uniqueness.

  “Tell me how your family is doing,” Orchid said. She hoped her friend’s grandmother was feeling better, and wanted to hear about their upcoming Autumn Festival plans.

  After they’d conversed and the dishes were cleared, the talk turned towards work.

  “So, how’s beauty strategy coming?” Star asked. Orchid thought about the seminal document she needed to deliver in two weeks.

  Orchid trusted her. Star was smart, funny and didn’t hold it against her for being waiguoren, or foreigner.

  “Honestly, I think it’s rock solid. I mean, really good,” Orchid said, correcting her use of slang that wouldn’t be understood. She was lucky that her company conducted business in English. “The problem is Eban.”

  Her friend nodded. “He is very difficult.”

  “He was fine with my deck when I showed it to him one-on-one, but in his team meeting, he shredded me. Um, made me look bad,” Orchid explained.

  “You need a big dog.”

  Orchid laughed at the expression.

  “Go tell Li Wei. Or Wang Ming.”

  “I need them to approve my recommendations. I can’t let them think I’m having trouble with the head of sales for our biggest region,” Orchid said.

  Star tilted her head. The Chinese valued the idea of saving face. “Maybe American big dog.”

  Orchid brightened at the spark of an idea. They chatted until the check came. At the exit, Orchid bought two tins of cookies, packaged in a traditional blue and white pattern. She handed one box to her friend and hugged her goodbye. The other tin, tucked safely in her bag, joined gifts she’d purchased for friends back home. She couldn’t help herself, she’d even chosen special things for Phoenix—a silk dragon tie, Chinese character cufflinks, and magazines with outrageously creative ads.

  After dinner, Orchid lounged on the fainting couch in her hotel room and ruminated on the idea that she needed a big dog. Her network in China wasn’t that deep. But back in New York she had several mentors.

  Orchid grabbed her phone and touched the icon for LinkedIn. She scrolled through colleagues’ updates, sending congratulatory notes for those celebrating work anniversaries and promotions. It made her happy to see familiar faces from home. Now, who among her contacts had experience in China? Specifically in the beauty industry? Each search included one person whom she’d been avoiding. She’d spent the month pushing away thoughts of Phoenix. She tried leaving an open mind on how to interpret his silence. Maybe he was giving her room to work. Maybe he was busy himself. Maybe he was just an ass.

  She swigged a mouthful from her wine glass and typed Phoenix’s name into a browser. The search returned pages of results. Nothing personal, of course, since he avoided all social media. Instead, old industry articles appeared. Ad Age had named counterAgency a “Small Agency to Watch” and praised its vision of building brands with a conscience. The articles commended this young thirty-two-year-old’s accomplishments. He really was something. So impressive. It didn’t hurt that his boyish grin made her heart squeeze tighter, that his habit of running fingers through his unruly hair made him handsomer than a young David Beckham, and that his presence filled whatever room he strode into.

  She chose his work number from her contact list. Phoenix was her mentor, after all. It seemed quite professional to use his office line. She’d tell him about the old-school sales guy who kowtowed to her wishes one-on-one, but then mowed down her ideas in high-stakes meetings. If it came up, well, she could laugh off their romantic kiss and her attempt to talk about it at the airport.

  His admin answered, an efficient presence she’d never met but whom she’d heard about during her pro bono work with Phoenix.

  “Mr. Phoenix Walker’s line. This is Liv.”

  “This is Orchid Paige. I’m trying to reach Phoenix. Is he in the office?”

  Liv’s pause, brief as it was, unfurled more unsavory stories in Orchid’s mind. He’d fallen for some sophisticate. He’d met a movie starlet, magazine editor, or travel blogger with smooth flowing locks, a haughty British accent and billionaire family.

  “He’s not in. Is there someone else at counterA
gency who can help you?” she replied in her clipped tone. Orchid imagined the dark-haired exec slinging one leg over the corner of his assistant’s desk.

  “If someone named Orchid calls, tell her I’m not in.”

  “No, thanks. Please ask him to call me.”

  Traveling a painful yet familiar path, Orchid remembered Caleb’s casual stories about Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend. “He was with Tish forever, and then . . . he lost interest. He dumped her. She said it was like she suddenly didn’t exist. And I thought they’d get married. My brother can be a bit mercurial.” His words were a warning. But they meant that he’d recognized the chemistry between them.

  For days following the unsatisfying conversation with Liv, there was no return call. Orchid took matters into her own hands. The next time she met with Eban and his team, she pulled out a blue-and-white tin. “Women xiang zhexie binggan. Fenkai danshi fangzai yiqi.” They sat up with respect at her willingness to try speaking Mandarin, and chuckled at her sentiment. “We’re like these cookies, separate, but stuck together.” The icebreaker made Eban jovial. He agreed with her geographical strategy to name the Southeast as the number one priority. Over treats, they haggled an agreement to overfund his region by twenty percent in return for sky-high distribution targets. She left the meeting with handshakes, and a spring in her step that wasn’t only because of her lighter bag.

  The morning before her trip home, Orchid entered the executive boardroom. The women and men who ran the China division welcomed her into the room. She strode to the front and caught the gaze of their president, sitting opposite her, at the table’s power spot.

  “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to grow your business. You’ll see in the presentation that not only can we double your sales in China, this product line is addressing unmet needs across Asia. My two-year plan has R&D tweaking the recipe for Western countries next.”

  They debated her assumptions. After all, she was recommending substantial investment. Tens of millions in R&D, media and agency fees. After one hour turned to two, the president leaned back in her seat and nodded. “You’ve done your homework. Answered every objection. Not an easy task. Congratulations, we’re aligned to your recommendations.” In the boardroom, the leadership team presented her with gifts of appreciation: bai jiu, a fiery Chinese liquor; handmade pottery from Tianjin; and a photo of their first team outing to the Great Wall.