Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

“Lisa-” I was slowly absorbing the shock. “Do you think what I did was wrong? Being engaged to Michael and attracted to Philip?” I took another gulp of my Coke.

“So what? That doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Meng Ning, you’re taking things too seriously. Relax. Life should be a party!”

“Then does it mean that when you were engaged to Michael you also had a little fun?”

“Sure.” She didn’t bat an eyelid. “That’s why we split up. Michael’s just like you; he can’t relax.”

“But I think you told me he left you for someone else.”

“Take it easy, Meng Ning.” She was playing with my hair. “You know Michael’s past. That’s why he’s always starving for affection.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Then suddenly I noticed her hand, like a predator, was now perching on my breast.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “Lisa, what are you-”

“Meng Ning, relax, it’s no big deal.”

“But-” I realized that it was already the umpteenth time that I’d used the word “but.”

“You’re a Buddhist, right? So let go of your inhibition, detach from your puritanical rules and live in the moment. Rules are not made by God, but people, and most of them are pricks anyway.” Now she studied me as if I were an elementary school student. “For Christ’s sake, Meng Ning, I’m just trying to educate you!” Then her tone softened. “Believe me, it doesn’t hurt to give it a try.”

“Try what?”

She handed me my glass. “Have more; it’ll help to relax you.”

I took a long swig under her scrutinizing eyes.

“Every woman should try it at least once with another woman. I’m sure you’ll like it. It’ll feel much more open and free than with a man-”

“Lisa, stop that. I’m not a lesbian!”

“You don’t have to be. Are you an American, because you speak English?”

I was speechless.

“Me neither,” she said, then, as if I didn’t understand, added, “I’m not a dyke.”

“Then why do you want-”

“There shouldn’t be any distinctions. I like both.”

“Both what?” I felt my vision blur and a headache coming.

She lowered her voice as if to tell a secret. “Both sexes. As long as I find them attractive.” She paused to sip her drink, then added, “You know what, Meng Ning? I had a crush on you the instant I saw you at the Met. Do you know when you leaned your delicate head against Michael’s broad shoulder, you looked so damn cute and vulnerable? I already imagined making love to you-”

“Lisa!”

Oblivious of my reaction, she went on, searching my eyes, “Ahhh…Meng Ning, you’re still like a little girl. That’s why I’m here for you.” She paused for a few moments before she went on. “Innocence is irresistible…” she almost sang, while her hand lightly pressed my nipple.

“Lisa, please stop-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be very gentle.” She drew close to me and began to lick my neck; her voice sounded as if it were coming from a deep, delirious dream.

I was trying to resist, but her kissing was becoming ardent. She shifted her weight and moved her leg to lock mine. It was then that her loose cotton slacks slid up, revealing her legs-one muscular and the other shriveled. While tears stung my eyes at the pathetic sight, somehow I also felt strangely moved.

“It’s OK, Meng Ning. Feels good, doesn’t it?” she purred, misunderstanding my tears of compassion for something else.

Quickly she peeled off my blouse, then slipped her hand under my bra. I was still staring at her leg, feeling both too intrigued and appalled to respond. Then I felt her unhook my bra, and her fingers slowly traced around my nipples.

Now seemingly in a state of complete intoxication, her eyes closed; she began to lick the inside of my ears. This time the tickling became so unbearable that I involuntarily jerked.

“Feels wonderful, eh? I know you like it.”

I tried but failed to speak, or think. Her moist, ginger-flowered breath was all over my face. The sight of her shriveled leg struck something deep inside me that I had not known existed. Then the tickle became so intense that I involuntarily closed my eyes, letting shudders escape me like a fish released back to the sea.

Lisa became more aggressive in her advances. She moved her burning lips all over me. When she was pressing her tongue on my collarbone, I opened my eyes and saw her full breasts, now completely bare, pressing against mine. This was the first time I had actually seen another woman’s breasts naked, except, of course, my mother’s when I was a child. In Golden Lotus Temple, any contours would be either hidden under loose, thick robes as if they didn’t exist, or flattened under layers of cloth as if they were diseases trying to break out.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Lisa’s swelling flesh tipped with large nipples like embroidered plum-blossoms. Bits of perspiration glowed there like pink dew.

Suddenly she squirmed; my hand jerked and brushed against the plum-blossom. Wisps of her hair touched my face; her warm skin sent a tremor down my spine. I remembered after the fire when I’d accidentally stroked Yi Kong’s shoulder. But the touch felt different, because Yi Kong was a nun, while Lisa was a worldly woman, who now shifted and moaned breathlessly, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her head falling to the side.

I snapped, “Lisa, stop it-”

But I was not able to finish my sentence, for she had already sealed my lips with hers. The wild ginger flower fragrance coiled around me like a heavy net into which I helplessly plunged…

After I’d left Lisa’s apartment feeling totally confused, angry, and sorry for myself, I was not in a mood to go back to the empty apartment and so I headed for the comforting aromas of Chinatown.

The rain had nearly abated as I strolled along Mott Street. I walked past an eatery where an oily-faced man was cooking dumplings with a pair of long, thick, wooden chopsticks. The dumplings looked fat and juicy in the bubbling broth, but they didn’t rouse my appetite. I passed a noodle shop from which wafted the fragrance of meat, ginger, garlic, and Chinese scallion, then a café window hung with roasted baby pigs, soy-sauce chickens, and crispy ducks glistening with oil. The animals’ clouded eyes stared at me as if hungry for life. Just then I heard a loud chuuup! I turned and saw a chicken’s head fly off from a blood-stained chopping block.

I continued walking aimlessly, trying to clear-or maybe numb-my mind. I walked past a café, an open street market with fish squirming in wooden buckets, then a grocery where Cantonese opera tunes blared from the sound system. A teenager kicked away a crushed can; a greasy-haired man flicked a lighted cigarette butt right into the middle of the street. Cartons, crates, Styrofoam containers, scraps of newspaper lay strewn all along the curb.

Still feeling sick, I jostled my way through the pedestrians and passed a narrow opening from which a sad, feeble cry startled me. My senses were awakened at once and I traced the sound into a back alley.

It was a kitten. Her hair was matted to her bony body and her eyes had the look of a person dying an unexpected death. Beside her lay a piece of rotten-looking meat. As I approached her, two Chinese boys around eight years old appeared from nowhere. One, heavy, wearing a stained T-shirt and torn blue jeans, held a bamboo stick. The skinnier one, in shorts frayed at the hem and sandals that revealed mud-caked toenails, cheered the other on as he tried to snap the kitten’s tail.

Right then a back door swung open and a Chinese man, wearing a blood-stained apron and with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, strode out to dump a huge plastic garbage bag onto the curb. When he saw the kids and the kitten, a hateful grin split his face. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and flicked the lighted butt onto the kitten. “Dead cat!” he spat, then stalked back, slamming the door with a loud bang that seemed to make the ground shiver. The kids roared with laughter; the kitten jerked. The rotund kid dropped his bamboo stick and picked up the cigarette butt while his comrade cheered him on. “Yes! Poke it in the eyes, the eyes…”