Fox Spirit 80 – Things Fall Apart
Sara realized she had made another slip – she shouldn’t have kept her meeting with Mrs. Cheng a secret. She tried to keep her voice even. “Storm, truth has many faces. You know your own hurt and it’s real. Your mother has her own pain, her own scars. Your father too. You must ask them; you must let them tell you their story before you judge them.”
He pulled away from her entirely, gripping her arms and holding her at arm’s length . He searched her face. “And if I ask, if I hear this truth, will it change things? Won’t you and Riqi not still be my true family, you who own my heart?”
Sara could not meet his gaze. She tried to touch him, but his grip on her arms didn’t loosen. “Storm, my heart’s core, …” her voice stumbled. “I don’t know. Someday Riqi must return to his father. And you must speak with your mother.”
Storm dropped his grip on Sara’s arms and stepped back. His face was twisted with anger and disappointment. Sara turned away in dismay, reaching for the counter next to her chair.
Storm’s voice was coldly furious. “I had hoped to be like a father to Riqi. Instead you say you must take him from me. You treat me like a child. You talk with my mother behind my back. You tell me I must ask her, as if I needed her permission to love you. But I’m not a child. I am a man and you are a woman and must bend to me.”
He took a quick step forward, grasped her shoulders from behind and firmly turned her, one arm circling her, the other pressing her into his grip. She struggled, was unable to break loose, was forced to look up at him.
The hand pressing her backward released its pressure; she pitched forward, was held upright by Storm’s other arm encircling her, while the hand roughly groped at her skirt, pulling it up over her hips.
“No! What are you doing? I won’t…”
“Yes, you will. You have had your way before. Now my way.” There was no hint of softness in his face or in his voice – she might have been looking at a carved stone, listening to a voice of stone. He half pushed, half lifted her into the kitchen alcove. Enraged, she tried to push him away but her arms were both pinned by his one. She found no purchase for her feet as he half lifted her to the edge of the small sink. His mouth covered hers, not to kiss but to keep her from crying out as his other hand fumbled at his trouser fly.
Sara writhed under his grip, the edge of the sink digging into her hip. She found a moment of leverage against the cupboard, and drove one knee upward. He groaned, his grip failed as he bent forward, and she was sliding downward, her spine scraping against the sink edge, unable to catch herself until one foot found the floor. The hand still pinioned by his arm found a hold on the edge of the sink, and with the other hand she pushed against one shoulder tipping him off balance so that he reeled away from her. He caught himself against the table and they stood staring at each other, both panting. Sara found her voice first.
“Not a child, you say!, but what is this, but a spoiled child having a tantrum because things are not to your liking. A man would use his words and his wits to find out the truth, not pick a fight or sulk like a moody teenager.” She pulled her skirt down.
Still staring at her, Storm fastened his trousers deliberately and silently put on his jacket. At the door he turned an expressionless face toward Sara. “I will be traveling again for the next two weeks. I had hoped to have more to look forward to on my return than a conversation with my mother. Farewell, huli jing.” And he was gone, not slamming, but closing the door softly after him.
After a few moments Sara moved to look behind the screen. Through it all, Richie had slept, snoring softly from behind his screen. He had heard nothing, seen nothing, as she and Storm had struggled and fought.
Sara moved to hang up her discarded jacket and scarf and straightened a pillow of the couch. She found herself staring at the closed door. How had things gone so wrong? Storm had been so angry. Afterward his voice had been so cold. When he left, he had closed the door so quietly behind him. She had been a fool to mention his mother. What if he went to her? She had been foolish with Mrs. Cheng also. She hadn’t hidden her dismay; she hadn’t used a mask to hide her aims. She should have pretended agreement. She should have told Storm about the meeting. He had a right to be angry. He had no right to force himself on her. She had never seen violence in him before. And he had left with no word of reconciliation, just gone. What if Storm turned against her for good? She had an impulse to pound her head against the wall, just to quiet her thoughts.
She heard a whimper from Richie and moved to look behind the screen. Richie lay in his crib, spread-eagled with no blanket, as if welcoming any movement of air in the humid dark. His breath was even, strong. Maybe in some dream he had heard their quarrel. But his even breath spoke of no nightmare. Sara turned to her bed. In her bed, she forced herself to lie quietly, staring at the ceiling, until sleep came.
###
The next week passed in a blur. The heat of early September was at its height; the red dust of the Gobi coated every vehicle, every leaf, every surface. The whir of the office air conditioning seemed extra loud, constantly intruding on Sara’s thoughts as she tried to concentrate on sales figures and marketing proposals. Sara didn’t expect Storm to call, couldn’t think what she would say if he called, but still resented her telephone’s silence.
Just before closing time on Friday, Jerry Wang called her into his office, the only space in Rainbow Software besides the conference room which boasted a door. Sara expected nothing more than a word or two of praise for the success of the online game in Korea and perhaps a new project directed at the growing market for internet games in Hong Kong. Maybe Storm had reported something of interest from his current road trip; she was hungry for any word of him.
Jerry Wang motioned Sara to a chair, closed the door behind her, and then sat behind his desk, rather than in the adjacent chair which he used for informal sessions. Sara felt a twinge of unease as she noticed the formality. Jerry’s first words did not dispel her doubt.
“Manager Miller, there are some things I wish to say to you privately. First, let me say how much I have appreciated your hard work in assisting us to launch Rainbow Software successfully.” He paused and rustled the papers on his desk, then looked up at Sara.
“It’s been four years now since you came to work here at Rainbow Software. You’ve have done much to help us in our beginning years to become a stable, mature business. We’ll always be grateful to you for your efforts.” Jerry Wang glanced down again at the papers on his desk. “I’m sure you will understand how difficult this is….”
Sara’s stomach knotted. His use of her title instead of “Sara” had been a warning. She braced herself for the next blow.
“…Our needs have changed since you were first hired. We no longer need the American Face which you have provided so well. Chinese investors particularly want to be investing in Chinese businesses…”
Sara moved impatiently in her chair but Wang held up his hand to restrain any words from her.
”…and I’m sure that as your grandson is nearly ready for school you’ll be wanting to return to your homeland soon.. So this is a good time for both of us to make a transition. It’s now September 10. Your last day will be September 30th. This is our standard three weeks’ notice and brings you right to the end of the month.”
Chinese Puzzle Box 