The Many Daughters of Afong Moy(80)

“Gwai lo,” the man said, pointing to himself. Then he whispered, “Americans.”

All of this felt familiar as Dorothy tried to remember.

“Would you care to dance?” He offered his arm with a curious look, as though he were unsure if he was in breach of some cultural norm. He pointed to the dance floor. “I can do the Jive, the Lindy Hop, and the Big Apple. I can kind of do the Samba and a slow Bolero, but I’m afraid if we do either of those I’ll have to follow you. My big sister taught me those dances and she always insisted on leading. Gave me a new appreciation for that quote about Fred Astaire: Sure, he was great, but Ginger Rogers did everything he did, backwards and in high heels.”

She hesitated, then took his arm, still trying to comprehend what was happening, as he led her to the middle of the room. The band began to play “Moonlight Serenade” and he turned, took her hand, and placed his other on the small of her back, holding her close in a gentleman’s embrace. He was warm, like an afternoon lying in the sun, eyes closed, mesmerized by the summery heat.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“It’s a slow song.” He leaned in so close she felt as though their eyelashes might touch. “Foxtrot?” She nodded again and he gently pressed his body to hers and smiled. “Here we go.” He stepped forward, leading her back, then to the side, then twirling counterclockwise as the other couples did the same. Everyone swirling around the smoky room in the same direction, paired off like peach-faced lovebirds.

“Going home to Rangoon?” he asked as they stepped to the music.

She glanced up at him, slowly shaking her head as though she couldn’t quite remember where home was. She held on and followed his movements, listening to the music, trying to recall why she was here. “I needed a change, I guess.”

He nodded to the silver pin on her lapel. “A change from nursing?”

She glanced down, surprised to see a silver caduceus, two snakes around a staff with wings, the type of pin worn by doctors or nurses.

“You’re quite brave to wear that in public, especially while we’re on board. The Japs have a standing order to arrest all medical personnel fleeing China. If we were stopped by a Japanese warship…” He raised his eyebrows.

Dorothy didn’t feel brave as she studied his handsome, familiar face, filled with curiosity and kindness. She felt delirious with happiness, but also deeply afraid.

“It’s okay, we’re almost there. Your secret is safe with me.” He beamed, showing his dimples. “Your English is beautiful, by the way. Where did you go to school? My old teacher back home, Mrs. Hanson, she’d give you an A.” Then he whispered conspiratorially, “She gave me a C-plus and she was my aunt.”

Dorothy looked out the window, as though the answer to his question were hidden in the sunset. “I think it was my mother who taught me.”

As they circled the dance floor he followed her gaze through the leaded glass, now lit up as though by fire. “Hung with the sunset’s fringe of gold; now strangely clear thine image grows, and olden memories are startled from their long repose.”

Memories.

Dorothy stared at him, searching, longing, hoping. “Like shadows on the silent snows, when suddenly the night wind blows.”

Startled from their long repose.

“That’s Poe,” she said. “You surprise me.”

He touched his cheek to hers, their feet moving together as they glided around the dance floor. “Not nearly as much as you astound me.”

When the song ended, people clapped and she realized why she was afraid. It was the fear of losing someone you love. She held his hand as he led her from the dance floor.

“You know,” he said, “I should introduce you to one of my companions. He’s a surgeon. He’s supposed to take care of us flyboys and grease monkeys, but I swear, from the looks of it, his team consists entirely of a medic and a bottle of iodine. He would fall all over himself if he found out there were a Chinese nurse on board who speaks English better than yours truly. That is, if you don’t already have plans? Maybe wooing the baron of some teak plantation or going diving with the sea gypsies?”

“I didn’t really make plans.” Dorothy imagined the trade winds in Burma, filled with the fragrance of sweet plumeria and the intoxicating, buttery scent of almond blossoms. The warm tropical rain on her skin. The seductive prelude to typhoon season.

She wanted to spend every moment with him.

“If you wanted, you could come with us,” he said. “We won’t be based too close to the ground fighting, at least not at the moment. But we’re going to see a lot of action in the air, and having you there could literally save our lives. And it sure would be nice to share a moment like this with you again. Might even be worth it to get shot down.” He winked. “You’d be surprised at what these poor, lonely fools would do to get a girl’s attention out here.”

This time she was the one smiling, her head spinning.

“My name is John, by the way. Nice to meet you. And you are?”

He looked into her eyes, then past her shoulder, and she heard glass breaking, as though a waiter or a busboy had dropped something.

People were shouting, screaming.

An older woman yelled in English, “Someone grab that little girl!”