The Many Daughters of Afong Moy(109)

Dorothy marveled at him, so relaxed, so comfortable here, on a ship bound for a place he’d never been, to embrace a fate that was still unknown. Being with him, she felt as though all the clocks in the world had stopped. There was a beautiful stillness, like the soundlessness of falling snow. The peace of an ocean made of glass beneath a clear blue sky. In the silence she found herself hoping, wishing.

The fire crackled and popped, and she blinked as her senses reacquainted themselves with the steady rocking of the ship. She pointed to another sign. “That says we should be quiet, respectful of others, and that this place is open all night.”

He looked at the chaise, then back at her.

She nodded, then blushed as she watched him remove his coat and slowly loosen his tie. They both removed their shoes. Then he lay back and she curled up next to him. He wrapped his jacket around her, holding her close.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“That we’re in here?”

“That we’re together like this.”

Dorothy held on to him again for the first time. She imagined letting him go and thought she could detect the faint hint of oil, diesel, ether. She felt a tinge of worry, of regret, an iota of sadness, a seed of hopelessness planted in an abandoned garden, destined to grow wild like pennyroyal, bearing thorns and poison.

He sat up as though he’d forgotten something.

He began to put his shoes back on.

“What are you doing?” Dorothy asked, not wanting to hear the answer, not wanting the night to end. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m just going to fetch something.”

“But…”

“I’ll be back shortly. Stay warm. Enjoy the fire.”

She wrapped his woolen suit coat around her, watching in disbelief. He left the room, and she wondered where he was going at this late hour.

He has to come back. His coat is here.

She stared into the fire, seeking answers as though beseeching the Oracle of Delphi, searching for meaning in the flames. But all she found was a sense of emptiness filling the room, even as she was surrounded by books filled with the imaginings of poets, scholars, and storytellers. Then she closed her eyes and cringed as she remembered posters with headlines like Pvt. Caution Says, “Don’t Take Chances” and a training film that exhorted military personnel, “Don’t forget—put it on before you put it in.”

Had she given him the wrong message? Insinuated things she didn’t mean to? She respected that he was trying to be careful, but it all felt so awkward now, and this wasn’t exactly what she planned. His presumption reminded her of her teenage years, fateful moments when she was reckless and gullible. She chewed her lip, worried about his return, but more worried that perhaps he suffered a change of heart and might never return at all. She felt misfortune with each passing minute, knowing that her disappointment would eventually step aside for its progeny of grief and acceptance.

She glanced about the room, saw Chinese newspapers on a wooden rack, and remembered the folded page with her photograph. She retrieved it from her pocket, unfolded it, stared at her own portrait. She tore the photo from the paper and threw the rest into the fire, watching it go up in flame. She searched the library until she found a pencil in one of the desks. She examined the photo once again, now doubting that the man she met would ever return, but if so, she wanted to leave something behind.

She wrote FIND ME on the back.

With a weary sigh, she tucked the photo inside his coat pocket, then touched the fabric one last time like the tender caress of a coffin lid before it’s closed and lowered into the cold, hard ground. She heard the door open, expecting to hear the voice of an annoyed custodian asking her to leave. Or a restless insomniac joining her sad tranquility.

“I’m so sorry that took so long.”

He walked back in carrying something in his hand.

“Where’d you go?” Dorothy’s frozen heart melted with relief. “I thought maybe you decided a good night’s sleep is better than my company.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he apologized again. “Since you’re a nurse, I went downstairs to the purser’s deck to find something in the suitcase of one of my traveling companions. Took me a moment to find it. But if you’ll indulge me.”

Dorothy stood up. “I’m sorry you went to all that trouble. And I’m sorry this is so awkward, I just don’t think we should.”

“Should what?”

He looked confused for a moment, then his eyes grew wide and he blushed with embarrassment. He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand as he remembered he was in a library. “Oh… my… I feel so terrible. You must have thought…”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Of course you did, I dashed out of the room to go get something. How could you not think that I was running off to get…” He smiled as he shook his head. “And honestly, I would love to, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind. I went to get something else.”

She tilted her head. “What is that?”

He held up a stethoscope.

“Wait, is something wrong?” She began to worry all over again, for different reasons. She touched his cheek, checking for signs of fever. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’ve honestly never felt better in my life. There’s just something about you. If you’ll allow me…” He gently put the eartips in her ears, then slipped the metal chest piece between the buttons of his shirt, directly above his heart.