Fox Spirit 85 – The Last Piece
A week later Sara had had two interviews with a private high school looking for native-English-speakers as teacher, and a third with a university-associated elementary school, all through Dr. Bai’s guanxi. Both positions included housing, though not as spacious as her two-room plus bath at Beihai. But she was still waiting to see or hear from Storm again. She had had no message from him; she had spent hours imagining their next meeting. And then, sitting at her computer, she saw Storm’s distorted reflection in her computer screen. He stood behind her, silent. She could hear him breathing. There was no sound from Scarlet’s cubicle next door. Was she still getting coffee?
“I’m wondering,” he said quietly, “if you are hating me.”
“No.” Hatred was not the feeling. But what to name it? Maybe, distrust. Maybe caution. She had never felt those with him before. He stretched out his hand. If he touched her she might flinch. She might melt. Part of her ached for him to touch her. And part not. If she turned around to look at him, he would touch her. She didn’t turn.
“Sara, I want to talk with you. I’ve had time to think. Could we, maybe, today, find someplace quiet? Maybe have lunch together? Do you have plans?”
So formal. Two weeks ago he would have known any plan she had.
“No plans. We could have lunch. Maybe….” Did she want to offer? Two weeks ago she would have offered in a heartbeat. Her heart was beating. He was waiting for her to finish her sentence.
“We could get sandwiches from Tully’s and picnic. Or…” She took a breath. All or nothing. “… we could go to my place. It’s quiet there.”
Storm nodded, straightening. “Yes. That would be perfect. We can talk there. I’ll pick up the sandwiches.” She could see his smile in the reflection. It was distorted. His eyes were in shadow. She couldn’t read his expression. She heard warmth in his answer, and was it relief, too? Not triumph. She was afraid it would be triumph, that he would think an invitation meant everything was all right. It wasn’t yet, but she realized how much she wanted it to be. At least, for as long as it could be.
Storm moved away to his cubicle with all his usual grace. Sara drew a long breath and tried to remember what she had been doing.
They left the office separately, met at the corner. He was holding the bag from Tully’s.
“How have you been?” His voice was carefully level. Was he also feeling more than he could show? How could she answer him? She focused on her words, on not letting her voice shake.
“Bu cuo. OK. Still a little bruised.”
“Bruised? I am sorry.”
“Are you?” She looked at him directly for the first time. His eyes fell.
“Here comes our bus.”
Storm’s hand brushed her shoulder as he stretched out his arm to steady himself on the crowded bus. His touch was electric; the shock went straight to her center. She knew she still wanted him. Still felt him part of her. Something had changed, but the wanting had not.
Neither of them said a word once they arrived at Sara’s door. The door opened, shut behind them, Storm put down the lunch bag and turned to her, touched her cheek, and they came together like two magnets. They staggered, still embracing, into the bedroom and fell together on the bed.
Sara pulled back, began to speak, but Storm laid a finger across her mouth and began to undress her, gently, examining each limb, each part as she was exposed to his gaze. She didn’t resist, allowed him to turn her, lift her, as he wished. She saw his brows furrow as he saw the remnants of bruises on her arms where he had gripped her, on her shoulder where he had pressed her to him, prevented her struggling. He stroked the marks gently, saying nothing.
Sara couldn’t wait any longer, put her hand under his chin, turned his face to look at her, ran her finger along his jawline, down his neck to his breast bone and then down further. She drew him down to the bed, then pulled away, leaving him lying on his back, while her fingers explored. He trembled under her touch, rose to meet her as she swung her hips over his, let her guide him into her.
Storm rose first. He dressed slowly, almost ceremonially. He stood by the bed and took a long look around, then turned to Sara, propped up on one arm among the rumpled sheets.
“I talked with my mother this morning.”
Sara waited, not moving.
“It was time. If I’m not to be a child to you, I must also be a man in my parents’ eyes. I asked for the story she had told you. It was hard for her. I think she told me all, or almost all. She told me enough. I understand her leaving and her returning. I understand my father. I think I even understand you more, what you must do for your son and for Richie. When your family calls you…”
Sara found herself smiling. She forgot her resentment of Ruth Cheng for interfering between her and Storm. Storm had done what she asked. Sara had given him his parents.Then the implication of his words struck her. Did he know that she had been fired? Why didn’t he offer help?
“Then you have heard? That I’m leaving Rainbow Software.”
Storm’s face changed, as if he were clenching his teeth. He nodded, then spoke again in an undertone. “I saw Zhang on Friday night at the Wine Shop. He told me you are leaving, though it hasn’t been announced. He said it’s because of the terrorist attacks; you need to take Riqi back to his father.”
So Trueheart Zhang knew also, along with Silver Wing. The news had been spread. Sara waited for Storm’s next words, almost holding her breath.
“I understand now why you’ve been so restless. You’ve been ready to leave. It’s always been your plan. You’ve hinted at this before. Each time you’ve spoken of leaving it felt as if a fox were gnawing at my heart. Each time I‘ve steeled myself against the pain. Now that it’s real, it’s like a death – but after pain, sometimes a death can be welcomed. “
“No, Storm”, Sara said softly. “Not my plan.” But Storm went on as if he hadn’t heard her.
“At least I’ll have my old friend to console me in my loss. You’ve heard the good news about Jade and Liu?” he asked. Sara nodded. Storm shook his head as if he did not quite believe what he was saying. “Zhang asked him directly while I was gone and my grandfather changed his mind. Just as Zhang said, he lifted his finger and it was done.”
Sara stared at him, stunned as though a bright light had blinded her. “Just like that,” she murmured. Ruth Cheng had spoken of “other ways”. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Old Cheng had arranged for Bright Liu‘s release, in return for Jerry Wang’s getting rid of the troublesome foreigner. Ruth Cheng and Trueheart Zhang had triumphed. Sara felt a surge of anger driving the blood through her veins. Her hands clenched.
Storm had bent down to find his shoes. He couldn’t see her tightened lips, her telltale flush.
Chinese Puzzle Box 