HEART-STRUCK [135 a 139]

Pag. 135

HEART-STRUCK

That was how it began—my first love.

I didn’t tell any of the other guys what had happened, in part because it made for a lousy story, but mostly because I was scared that if I did I’d jinx it and she’d disappear like a ghost, never to be found again. And I didn’t want to face a bunch of questions that I couldn’t answer—like what her last name was, or when I’d see her again.

The next day, Master told me to report to the movie studio where most of the other older students were working, just in case they needed an extra body. I nearly ran out the door, knowing that this was my chance. I took the long bus ride back to the performance hall where I’d met her the day before, and found the organizer who’d brought us all together. Wearing my best innocent expression, I told him that my master wanted to express his compliments to Oh Chang’s teacher, and asked him the address to her school. It was so simple! The organizer was glad to assist a man of my master’s stature, and even gave me directions on how to get there. On the bus ride back to Kowloon I planned out everything I’d say to her and thought about where I’d take my dream girl on our first date.

And that’s when I started to get nervous. I’d never gone on a date before and had no idea what most people did on their evenings out. What would Oh Chang enjoy? Would she like to go drink tea? Or see a film?

I really didn’t know anything about her!

Preoccupied, I nearly missed my stop and once again had to run out of the bus in a panic. I half hoped that somehow fate would intervene, and I’d bump into her on the sidewalk, just like the day before, but life is never that simple.

Her school was just a few blocks from the bus stop, and it was very impressive compared to ours—newer and cleaner, at least from the outside, with a shiny metal gate that had been freshly painted. The girls who learned opera here probably had never slept on a wooden floor in their lives.

My stomach felt hollow. Her friends didn’t think much of me. What if she saw me and told me to go away, or worse, laughed at me until I was forced to leave in shame? I tuned away from the gate, telling myself that there was still time to go to the studio.

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But as I began to walk back toward the bus, I heard a voice in my head that sounded as stern and disapproving as my father. Was that all I was good for—lying on the ground and playing dead? And then the voice became a chorus: my father, my master, all of Shandong, shouting together that I was a weak excuse for a man, afraid to stand up to the laughter of small girls, too afraid even to reach out for the most important thing in my life.

I didn’t care if she laughed at me! There was more shame in running away than in trying and failing.  And, my heart beating as strongly as any of my brave ancestors’, I walked back to the gate and swung it open, and stepped into the courtyard beyond.

The stones paving the courtyard were even and neatly kept, without any weeds or cracks in sight. The door was as bright as the gate had been, with the characters that made up the name of the school neatly carved into the sill above it and painted in gold. I straightened my clothes and knocked—once, twice—and waited, my mind a complete blank.

The door opened, revealing the face of an old woman with deep lines around her eyes. “Yes?” she asked.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry, Madame, but I have a message for one of your students.” I stiffened my back and tried to look official.

The woman blinked. “I’m not a teacher here; I’m the housekeeper,” she said. “Madame is out on appointment; which student do you need to see?”

I swallowed. “The girl’s name is Oh Chang.”

The gray head looked at me with faint suspicion. “Miss Oh Chang is rehearsing right now.”

“The message is a short one”, I said, fighting back a wave of nausea.

“If you give it to me, I can pass it on,” she said.

“Ma’am, I was told to give it to her in person,” I said. My resolve was about to crumble; I wanted to run away. Let the voices in my head argue with this old bag if they thought it was so important.

The housekeeper sighed, and motioned with her hand. “Wait right here; I’ll find her,” she said. “But you really will have to be quick.”

Success! I’d gotten past the first test—like Monkey from the old stories, tricking the guardian at the gate to heaven. After a few moments, the door opened again, and I faced her—Oh Chang—again, her mouth and eyes as round as Os in surprise at my unexpected appearance.

She had apparently been in the middle of a full dress rehearsal, because her delicate features were powdered white, with streaks of rose above her eyes. Her hair was pulled back with sparkling combs, and the plain outfit of yesterday’s exhibition had been replaced with a flowing gown with long sleeves, cut from a richly embroidered fabric.

“Hello,” I managed to choke out. “You look different…”

Even as I said the words, I cursed myself as a fool. All of the things I 

Pag. 137 

Imagined saying had sprung out of my head when I’d finally found myself facing her again. If I was lucky, maybe she wouldn’t call the police.

“I’m sorry,” she said, covering her cheeks with her hands. “I was rehearsing—we have a tour coming up, a trip to Thailand, and we have a lot of new things to practice.”

“Don’t be sorry; you look wonderful,” I said. What was I saying?!

She laughed in her shy way. “Did you really have a message for me?” she asked. “The housekeeper will be coming back soon…”

“The message is,” I said, and stopped. I summoned up all of the determination I could, hearing the distant encouragement of the voices. “The message is that you have an appointment later.”

“And who is that appointment with?”

“With me,” I said cockily.

She laughed again, in spite of herself.  “What time is this appointment?”

“What time are you free?”

Oh Chang leaned against the door, furrowing her brow. “I go home at ten o’clock,” she said. “But usually I just go straight to sleep.”

“Sneak out,” I said. “I’ll wait for you.”

“You don’t even know where to wait!” she said.

“I will if you tell me,” I responded, flashing my best smile.

And she did.

And then she closed the door, after giving me one last smile and wave.

Monkey had entered the gates of heaven, and the voices in my head were cheering victory.

I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Kowloon, just waiting until nigh. I managed t kill time walking in show circles around the neighborhood, watching the crowd and eating snacks. I thought about going to the studio, but they wouldn’t take me on for a half day, and besides, I wanted everything to be perfect for my big date that night—no dirt, no sweat, no bruises or sprains. And then, as I my third sweet bean bun, a stray thought began nagging at me. As far as Master knew, I was at the studio all day, doing the same boring stuff my brothers were doing. But tomorrow morning, he’d line us up after breakfast as usual and ask us for the pay we received the day before.

With horror, I imagined the scene in my head. “Where is your money, Yuen Lo?” he’d ask, as I stood there empty-handed. “Did you lose it? Or spend it foolishly?”

What excuses could I have? He’d give me seventy-five smacks with his cane, one for every dollar I was missing—and even though he’d gotten grayer and stiffer, he hadn’t lost any of his strength.

There was n help for it. I walked to the bank where my father had opened an account for me, and asked the teller to withdraw HK$75.

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I’d give Master the money, and he’d never know the difference. But, I thought to myself, girls were turning out to be an expensive habit.

At exactly ten o’clock, I found myself standing outside of the gate to Oh Chang’s house, on a very nice block in one of the wealthier parts of Kowloon. The lights were out, and the windows shuttered closed. For as split second, I thought that I’d been tricked, that she was upstairs in her bed dreaming about what an idiot I was. And then the gate swung open, and her lovely face peeked out into the street.

“Hello,” I said, putting one hand on the gate in what I hoped was an appropriately casual pose.

“You came,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“Where else would I be?” I said, smiling back. “Come on.”

She stepped out into the street, and I thought I’d never seen anything so pretty in my life as Oh Chang at that moment, wearing a simple cotton dress, her hair down and falling around her shoulders, lit only by the pale glow of the moon.

We walked side by side down the street in silence. Then Oh Chang asked me about my school, and it was like a dam had broken open inside me. I told her about the aches and pains of practice, and knew she was listening, and that she understood. I told her about Master’s hard discipline, the beatings and punishments, and she sighed in sympathy. I told her jokes and riddles and funny stories about my adventures with my brothers, and she laughed, and I felt like I could watch her laughing like that forever.

We walked and walked, until finally we found ourselves on the edge of Kowloon Park. Sitting there on a wooden bench, the moon high in the sky and a light breeze rustling the leaves of the trees around us, I somehow found the courage to take her hand, and she didn’t pull away. I still remember how small and warm her hand was, how soft and graceful it was, so different from my rough, callused fists. It was like our hands were from two different worlds: hers were the hands of the wealthy, soft and delicate, and mine were practical, purposeful. They were tools—or weapons.

We sat there together for hours. Talking a little bit. Mostly  just looking at the moon and each other. Then she said, “Yuen Lo, I have to go. It’s almost midnight,” and the spell was broken. I didn’t argue; it was already much more than I could have hoped for, a poor, ragged guy like me and a rich, pretty girl like her. I pulled her up off the seat and we began the walk back to her home.

“It was nice to see you,” she said, as we approached her block. I nodded, squeezing her hand.

We stood in front of her gate, the night at its darkest hour, and I wondered if I should kiss her. Somehow, it didn’t seem right—like if I did, it would break some secret, unspoken rule, and she’d disappear forever—

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And so I just watched in silence as she waved good-bye and crossed into her courtyard.

And then she peeked her head out again, knowing I hadn’t yet turned to leave. “Will you come visit me again, Yuen Lo?” she asked, her cheeks pink and her eyes looking modestly away.

She liked me! I broke out in a wide grin, my heart leaping. “How could you keep me away?” I said, and before she could answer, I blew her a kiss and ran into the night, hearing her giggles trail off behind me in the warm, humid air.

From that point on, I went to visit her nearly every day of the week, ditching work, inventing excuses, and drawing dollar after dollar from my dwindling bank account to give to Master. Every day I saw her cost me U.S$10, which was a big amount—you could eat for a week on that—but what did I care? That money was buying me love.

Of course, I had to tell my brothers that I had a girlfriend, so that they would cover for me if Master got suspicious. After all, they knew I wasn’t going to the studio to work. But, if I wanted to waste my money that way, who were they to criticize? The only bad part was hearing the awful jokes they’d make about Oh Chang and what we were probably doing, out in the park alone every night. It wasn’t like that, but they’d never understand. I let them have their fun…and resolved never to let them meet her, if I could possibly help it.

Then, about six months after I started seeing her, Master told me he was sending me on another exhibition. This one wouldn’t take place in Hong Kong at all—it would be in Southeast Asia, in Singapore, thousands of miles away. I broke the news to Oh Chang, expecting her to be sad, but she just laughed.

“Don’t be silly; it’s only a few weeks,” she said. “Besides, don’t you remember? I’ll be on tour in Thailand at the same time—we’ll be practically next door to each other.”

So, after half a year of being together, we would be apart for the very first time. I made her promise not to forget me, and she made me promise the same. I knew in my in my heart that promises like that weren’t necessary for me;  It didn’t matter how long or how far away she was, she would always be in my dreams.