微型小说

HER STORY

 

 

Qingdao, China. 1992.

 

After the party at the neighboring school, the doctor with long ponytail insists accompanying her back to her school that is about 500 m east. The street leading to her school is not well lit and some local buses will drop off fly-by-night people at this late hour. A huge pit at the construction site makes this short span of road more desolate and hazardous.

 

They did not know each other until the party was half swing. He is a Chinese doctor who has inherited all the knowledge on herbs and acupuncture from his deceased father. She, a nursing school teacher who has studied diligently both eastern and western medicine and medical science. He has met one of the American teachers who came to his tiny clinic across the street from the college. He took care of the foreigner’s neck pain and migraine. The Americans love the price he charges.

 

They talked for a good hour and half at the party thrown by an American teacher who was teaching English there. Now, out in the night, they feel refreshed by the cold air and  carry on some small talk on the way back to her place. He seems to be more interested in her than she in him. He is attracted to her ability to speak the foreign language so fluently and the kindness in her voice, humble and never pushing.

 

When coming to a ditch, he jumped across like a teenager and then stretched his hand to her. She took his hand with a smile and thanked him after she landed by his side.

A street

lamp in the corner shed an orange light on her face, and he sees a kind of simple beauty in her eyes.

 

He told her he is married with a young daughter at home. And that’s that. They are both private people with few words. But they did make some friends at the party, Chinese and Americans who are teaching at colleges in the city. She didn’t mention a word about her personal life to him at the party. She spoke a lot of English with the Americans, which he didn’t understand at all. He didn’t have a college education. His knowledge is home style, so to speak.

 

“So, are you living on campus with your family?” He breaks the silence as they are passing the pit.

 

“Hmmm, yeah. My husband is in America now. I am staying here by myself for now.” She answers politely as if she is talking to a custom officer at the international airport.

 

“Wow! What is your husband doing in America?”

 

“He’s sent by the government and getting a Ph.D in computer science.” She stresses on the P. H. D. like a young mother telling people her child’s name.

 

He is impressed by her husband’s story and has no idea that she is lying to him.     

 

A year later, having seen each other many times at parties, he learns the fact that she is still single. It was her who told him that she protects herself by telling men about the non-existent marriage with an American-bound Ph.D.

 

She is almost forty now. He understands her situation, but he is a little surprised by what she confessed. Secretly, he feels somewhat a sense of triumph. There is the tone of sympathy in his words now. He even invites her out for dinner.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

A year ago, when she met the American at the Christmas party held by both schools, she introduced herself to him gracefully. The tall American fell in love with her right away. He invited her over many times and she told him the same self-protecting lie she told the doctor. But she enjoys hanging around with foreigners because they treat her the way she wants to be treated.

 

One time, she went to a summer resort with the American and they camped outside that night. She felt the joy of a young girl and a strange kind of pride being protected and pursued by a tall American. Under the pregnant moon, they picnicked and told each other stories in English. She lied down with the American and they kissed.

 

Feeling the American’s heavy, gentle hand on her belly, she said regretfully that she didn’t want to go further than this because of her husband. They drank some more wine and stared at the starry sky. She let his hand touch her outside her white silken dress with yellow flowers, waist, arms and breasts. She put her head on his broad chest like a lost girl. They were both apparently aroused and were breathing heavily. His hand slowly crawled under her dress and as soon as it touched her naked thighs, she turned and sat up.

 

“No sex! I do not want sex!” She told the American, who was having the best moment in his life with this pretty Chinese woman.

 

“I am sorry! I don’t mean to . . . !” He apologized, blushing.     

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

Some friends say that she is still single. She doesn’t go to parties any more. Some say that after her mother’s death in the countryside, she has found a part time job at a foreign trading company to make money. Teachers at the nursing school gossip about her, a fact she has known for a long time. But she is good at keeping herself busy doing two jobs, which is rare among women of her age. Sometimes, alone in her room, tears will come to her bright eyes, and she let them run over her cheeks and drop on her laps.

 

One night after seeing a movie together, the doctor walked her back again. Before they parted, he tried to kiss her. She didn’t refuse, but kept her lips closed. It was an awkward moment for him and got a little upset inside. She went inside the school and they never saw each other again.

 

:: Z.Z. 2006