The Many Daughters of Afong Moy(113)

I’m right here.

The pressing stopped. He pinched her nose again and she jerked, gasped, reflexively slapping his hand away, eyes wide. She wanted to sit up, to gain her bearings, sort out the confusion, but her chest hurt, her throat was on fire.

“Welcome back,” he said as the wind began to subside, just enough for him to be heard without yelling. He glanced at his watch. “That was the longest ten minutes of my life. I thought I lost you.” He sat back for a moment, exhausted.

She noticed his dark clothing—a policeman’s uniform—damp. His raincoat discarded in a pile, his cap tossed aside. His dark hair disheveled.

He relaxed into a familiar smile. He looked happy.

Or was it just relief?

Dorothy saw that the temple was crowded now, packed with people caught out in the weather. But the candles and lamps continued to burn, the statues of the Buddha seated at the altar smiled with blissful contentment even as the typhoon raged.

“You sure know how to miss a party! I think you slept through the worst part of the storm,” the officer said. “We couldn’t wake you.”

She opened her mouth to thank him but couldn’t speak.

Then she began to gag. Began to choke.

“You’re okay.” He snapped to attention. “I’m going to roll you onto your side.”

Wait.

She felt a hand lift her head, another on her back.

“One… two…” He eased her sidelong, kept her hair out of the way as she felt her shoulders stiffen. Her spine seized up as the bitter contents of her stomach spewed from her mouth and out her nostrils. Her sadness, her regret, her rash decisions pouring out. When she finally caught a full breath, she was shaking, hands trembling.

“That’s it,” the officer said, his hand on her shoulder. “Breathe. You’re okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dorothy mumbled as she dried her mouth and cheek on her sleeve. She sat up cautiously and looked down at her soiled clothing. A woman in a saffron robe was already helping her clean up. Another was wiping the floor with a towel. Dorothy saw that the other people in the hondo had moved even farther away.

“Where’s my daughter?” Dorothy asked.

“Oh dear,” the bhikkhuni said as she brought a bottle of water to Dorothy’s lips. “When you got here, you arrived by yourself. Do you have a child out there somewhere?”

Dorothy sipped the water and remembered that Annabel was safe, though she wouldn’t be completely relieved until Dorothy had her arms around her. “It’s okay. I forgot,” Dorothy said, rubbing her temple. “She’s with friends outside the flood zone.”

I love you, Baby-bel.

“Then you should probably lie back down, okay?” the officer said, still kneeling next to her. “No one can go out until the storm has passed and the winds have slowed. Plus, there could be downed powerlines and broken gas mains, flash flooding. The best thing you can do for your daughter is stay put, stay warm, and get some rest, until I hear that it’s clear. Then you can go home and make her all the tofu and pumpernickel sandwiches you want.”

She recognized him, his affable nature.

He touched the radio on his vest, then sighed when he heard static.

Dorothy nodded, then lay back down on the floor in the center of the hondo. She rested her head on the cushion. Felt a soft blanket cover her. She knew some people were still looking at her with concern, wondering what had happened. She didn’t care. The typhoon was the star of tonight’s show, center ring. She was just a sidelight.

“Thank you,” she said to the officer. “For what you did.”

“I’d say anytime, but… I’d really rather not do that again if I can help it.” His words—his bedside manner—were cheerful, but she saw the worry in his eyes.

“I’ll be okay,” she said.

“You sure?”

Dorothy nodded.

“Okay.”

“You didn’t give up on me.”

“You didn’t give up either.”

He smiled approvingly, then left to check on other people.

Dorothy let his words sink in.

The howling wind portended ruin and devastation for the city. But she was reminded of another stormy night. When she woke up in the ER at Harborview Hospital as a teen, delirious, gagging as a tube was pushed down her throat, awash in fear, confusion, shame, anger—all of it mired in despair.

Now as she examined her many shapes, her myriad reflections in the gold leafing of the temple ceiling, she felt palpable relief. She relaxed, oddly at peace as her countless images moved to the rhythm of the flickering candlelight. She felt safe, content—beyond content—she felt hope. Hope for her future and for her daughter.

“Looks like everyone’s settled in,” the officer said as he returned.

Dorothy appraised the two of them, tired but at peace amid the chaos.

“Would you like to lie down and rest?” she said to the officer. “There’s another cushion and there’s plenty of room. I seem to have scared everyone else away.”

He glanced down at her, then scanned the room as he ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s very kind. It’s been a long day and I suspect it’s going to be an even longer night.” He smiled at her but slowly shook his head. “I really shouldn’t. Though I want to, especially considering how we keep bumping into each other like old friends.”