Outrun the Moon(34)

The sight of Tom throws my heart into orbit. He’s pulled the collar of his coat up to his chin, and his cap hugs his head.

“And easy is too hard for you.” His breath curls out of his mouth. “You will never be happy if you don’t climb to the top.”

“You sound like my father, Tom. At least I stop when I run out of land. You’re the one who wants to fly.”

We sit down on the marker, sides touching, and I almost swoon at his warmth.

“About that . . .” He stares at our city below, obscured through a night as thick as black sesame pudding. I feel more than hear him clear his throat, but he holds on to his silence.

“What is it?” When he still doesn’t answer, I nudge him.

His folded hands twitch. Those hands are strong enough to lift heavy grain sacks, yet his nimble fingers can tweeze a petal without breaking it.

“After the hearing, Ba and I got into a table scratcher. I told him I wasn’t going to be a doctor like him. He hasn’t said a word to me since. But I was never cut out for that work. You know that.”

“I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“Nothing. I disappoint him, and he will find any reason to remind me.”

There’s something so aching and hungry in the way he stares up at the dark sky, I can’t help wishing he would look at me that way. I imagine the weight of his arm dragging me to him. The memory of sand and Tom’s face dripping down on me fills my mind.

Without thinking further, I lean closer, and when he turns his startled face to mine, I kiss him.

I misjudge and our teeth collide, but he gently corrects course instead of pulling away. When he kisses me back, all the hurt inside me floats to the surface and somehow drains away. It makes me want to laugh.

Tom does care for me. He cares.

My heart thumps so loud, it feels as if the noise is coming from outside of my head, as if it belongs to the city. As his kiss deepens and he grips me closer, it is easy to imagine that we are the only two people left on earth, that the only rules are the ones we make.

Too soon, he pulls away. “Mercy,” he says hoarsely, using the word as if in protest. “You should not get attached to me.”

“I already am.” I move toward him again, wishing to continue exploring these new angles on him. The quarter moon, like a full-bellied fish, swims high off the horizon. We don’t have much time.

But instead of his lips, I feel only the cold emptiness of air.

Tom looks like he stepped on a turtle, surprised and a little off-balance, as he struggles for words. Finally, he swallows. “There is no one like you, Mercy. You deserve more.”

I blink. “What?”

Seven heart-crushing seconds elapse. He has fallen for Ling-Ling. He is pushing the dagger in gently.

“There’s a man in Seattle who’s working on a flyer. Aluminum engine, twenty horsepower . . . it’s a big improvement on the Wrights’. He’s looking for someone to fly it.”

“Seattle . . .”—thank the Nine Fruits it’s not Ling-Ling, but—“Washington? That’s a thousand miles away.” He nods. “I thought you were still working on your balloon.”

“I’ve done all I can on it. Got it to stay up a whole two hours yesterday. Besides, airplanes are the new bird. This is my chance to be a part of something big.”

A leaf mouses around my ankles, and I crush it with my toe. I’d always encouraged Tom to do what he loved, but now that it’s a real possibility, the thought of him shooting around in the sky makes my stomach turn loops. One little misstep, and the sky could come crashing down on him.

And what about me and our herbal tea business? True, I never explicitly asked for his help. I just assumed we would be married . . .

“But you’ll come back.”

The silent moments that follow hit me like sharp stones, each one sharper than the last.

He doesn’t care. I was a fool, and his kiss was simply a gesture. Pity, even.

“I’m leaving Tuesday at dawn,” he says at last. “Captain Lu said he’d give me a ride. He’s even letting me bring the Island.”

The ship with the green eyes, Heavenly Blessing. I stare dumbly ahead. He wraps his coat around my shoulders, but no coat could warm my chill.

Seconds slog by, and I linger, mute and immovable as a wounded animal. We’d grown up together. We’d dreamed with our faces to the moon, plotted the courses of our lives.

Finally, he gestures distractedly in front of him. “Look at all that space. I know something’s waiting for you out there, something good. You’re going to have the biggest house on Nob Hill one day, remember? And a company to command. Even the gwai lo will respect you.”

I can hear the pleading behind his compliments, and it strikes me as ironic how often comfort rides on the back of pity, like a mule with a silk saddle. When I still do not speak, he drags in a breath, then lets it out in a slow exhale. “Mercy, don’t wait for me.”

Ma says we can measure our lives by our pain.

There is the pain of our first steps, and of losing our first tooth. The pain of a parent’s anger, and the disappointment when something doesn’t go our way. Each advances us in some way, leading us further into the experience of being human.

If Ma is right, then I must be an old woman now, for the wound Tom inflicts with his gentle voice hurts more than all the rest put together.