Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

Before I could respond, he continued. “How come I’m always a step behind Michael?” He let out a chuckle. Now his hair glistened like Van Gogh’s sunflower under the restaurant’s golden light. “Otherwise you could have been my fiancée. Why is he always so lucky to get the best?”

“Philip, don’t you already have all the best in life? Your Lotus, your practice…” I wanted to say your movie-star good looks, but stopped myself just in time. I definitely didn’t want him to think that I was attracted to him romantically… Then my heart started to pound. Was I?

He squeezed my hand with his perfectly manicured one. “Maybe, Meng Ning, but I haven’t gotten the best woman.” He sipped his fifty-year-old drink meditatively, then said, “I’ve been with lots of women in my thirty-six years, but none as beautiful nor unique as you.”

“Philip, you barely know me.” Although I was flattered by what he said, he also made me feel uncomfortable. Hai, that’s exactly what Yi Kong told me over and over-never trust men, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, Oriental or Occidental.

“You’re definitely an old soul. I had this gut feeling the moment Michael introduced you to me.” He paused, his expression turning very tender and his voice intoxicating. “Meng Ning, allow me to be bold…I think maybe we were soul mates in our past lives.”

Before I knew how to respond, he went on. “To be honest, I’ve never known any woman who can bring out so much tenderness in my whole being. Right now, my heart is aching.”

“Philip, please…” While not knowing what to say, I felt a heat growing inside me and radiating through my whole body. I downed some more icy Coke while my eyes devoured the face of this Hollywood-handsome man, seemingly so approachable, and yet so distant.

Just then the waiter returned with our food. “Scampi with pasta for madame and steak tartare for the gentleman. Enjoy.”

The food was delicious, the drink soothing, and the setting romantic. Under the dazzling, yellowish light, Philip’s strong cheekbones and sharp jaw looked like they were chiseled from a sculpture. He looked very manly in a slightly disreputable way-a completely different kind of man from Michael. He was so excessively handsome that he seemed impossible to reach-even though he was sitting right across from me. But then why would he want to reach me so eagerly? Did he want me to be his next toy, a China doll, like his Lotus? Or just because Michael had asked him to tend to me while he was away?

We ate in silence for a while. The only sound was the pleasant clinking of the forks, knives, glasses, and dishes. I also noticed a few women-young and old-shooting envious glances toward me. The young girl across from our table accompanied a wrinkle-faced, richly dressed old man. The sexy girl at the table next to her seemed to draw away from her horse-faced nerd companion.

I tried but failed to suppress the corners of my lips from rising.

Philip looked at me curiously. “Hope you at least like your food. Good?”

The scampi melted inside my mouth. “It tastes like it was cooked by an imperial chef in an ancient palace where if the emperor took only one bite instead of two, the cook would be executed.”

“Wow, that’s really dramatic! I like that.” Philip smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. “There are two things I really love in life-good food and beautiful, intelligent women.”

“Me, too,” I said, spearing another scampi, “especially women. That’s why I am so close to my Buddhist nun mentor. She is beautiful, like a film star.”

“But Buddhist nuns have to shave their heads, right?” Philip took a hearty bite of his raw steak. “I can’t imagine a bald woman being attractive.”

“Not until you see my mentor.”

He was now sipping his wine thoughtfully. “But why would you have a nun as a mentor?”

I blurted out, “Because I wanted to be a nun, and it’s Michael who…” I stopped.

“You did? Michael never told me that!” He scrutinized me intensely. The blue of his eyes shone like a sapphire under the mysterious full moon. “That would be such a waste. Meng Ning, promise me, never try again to be a nun. Anyway, I don’t like nuns.”

“Why? These women are very nice, compassionate people,” I said, picking at my vegetables.

“Because they don’t like men! That really irks me, especially those pretty ones. They deprive men who deserve good women.”

I’d never thought of it that way.

He cut off another chunk of meat and put it into his mouth. I noticed the color of his sensuously moving lips matched exactly his blood-streaked steak. “Your naïveté makes you so appealing,” he said.

“Thanks, but I’m already thirty, so I don’t think I’m that naïve.” I tried but failed to twirl the pasta onto the fork.

He eyed my awkwardness with amusement for a while, then said, “That makes you even more naïve. OK, now tell me about your past with the nuns.” He put down his fork, then delicately dabbed his lips with the white napkin.

So I did.

After I’d finished, Philip held my hand for a long time before he finally released it. “Meng Ning, let’s go home.”

I was surprised that the place where he pulled up was not Michael’s apartment building. “Philip, but this is not where Michael lives.”

“I know. It’s where I live.”

Although I wanted very much to say I needed to go home, my body involuntarily followed his.

Philip’s apartment looked very different from Michael’s. While Michael’s was decorated with Chinese objects, Philip’s was, like him, glamorous and sumptuous. Richly colored abstract oil paintings and glass bookcases covered the walls. Antiques of various shapes and sizes struck elegant poses in ornate cabinets. The carpet was thick, lush, with Occidental motifs of mystical animals in vermillion, green, and purple.

“Very nice apartment,” I exclaimed. “But I think I really should go home. Michael may call anytime.”

“Meng Ning, would you compassionately grant a lonely chap the pleasure and honor just to have an after-dinner drink with you?”

Feeling completely powerless, I muttered a weak, “Yes, of course.”

After he led me to sit down on his huge ivory leather sofa covered with colorful pillows, he went inside the kitchen and soon returned with a lacquer tray. He put down the tray and handed me a glass. After that, he sat next to me on the sofa, took off his jacket and tie, then started to sip his drink thoughtfully. Although he was not very near to me, instinctively I moved away a bit.

We started to chat about various things-music, films, art, museums, and his practice. I was surprised when he told me that some of his patients were Hollywood stars.

“I’m very tempted to tell you who they are, but I can’t.” He took another sip of his drink and looked at me with eyes soft and tender like blue silk. “But you know what? None of these stars can compete with your beauty.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Philip, but please don’t exaggerate.”

His expression turned serious. “No, not a bit. Their beauty is all skin-deep. I’m the one who fixes their skin so I know. Meng Ning, none of them can compete with your natural beauty, your naturalness, your mystery. It must be because of your Zen study.”

“Oh, Philip, you’re overpraising me.” Now my face must be the same color as his blood-streaked steak!

“With you, I only speak from my heart. I’d never have the heart to lie to this innocent face of yours,” he said, reaching to touch my cheek.

“Philip…” My cheek was hot, and so was his hand.

He murmured, his voice soaked in alcohol, “Meng Ning, I can’t help it; I just can’t. I’m in love with you, helplessly and desperately.”