The Night Tiger(57)
How was I supposed to react to this news of supposed infidelity? Perhaps just a brave, upset face would be good enough. “Oh,” I stared at my shoes. There was an odd, squeezing sensation in my chest.
“I’m sorry.” Koh Beng drew a little closer. “If there’s anything I can do—” He put a hand on my shoulder.
“Ji Lin!” It was Shin, coming down the hallway. “Why’d you go off like that?”
Koh Beng dropped his hand.
“He was giving me a tour.”
Shin slid his arm around my waist, and I stiffened. Noticing my reaction, Koh Beng smiled awkwardly as he turned to go. “Let me know if you ever need any help.”
* * *
“What sort of help was he offering you?” asked Shin.
“Nothing,” I shouldn’t have been annoyed. Koh Beng’s well-meaning advice had nothing to do with my situation. I slipped out from under Shin’s arm. “We don’t have to pretend right now. There’s no one else around.”
Shin gave me a searching look. Sometimes, I wondered just what was going on behind those quick dark eyes. When he smiled, they crinkled up at the corners, and he smiled a great deal more nowadays than he ever had when he was younger. I wasn’t sure whether I liked that. He’d learned to use his face to his advantage.
“I’ve something strange to show you,” he said after a pause.
“Did you find it?” But there were loud voices, the clatter of footsteps. It sounded like a crowd was coming through the corridor; certainly it wasn’t a good place to examine mysterious stolen packages. Besides, I didn’t want to risk running into Y. K. Wong again.
Shin tried a door. It was locked. The next door opened into a storage closet, with a small window that let in faint grey light. We ducked inside while the voices chattered:
“Such a horrible thing to happen! Who was she again?”
“That small nurse. The one involved with a married patient.”
“I’d have thought she’d have more sense.”
“Perhaps the wife put a curse on her.”
The voices moved farther down the corridor. I discovered that I’d been holding my breath and let it out in a rush.
Shin said quietly, “It was inside the vase in the common room.”
The storeroom was cramped and dim, but felt safer than the hallway, especially if Shin really had taken something. He started to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“I hid it in my shirt,” said Shin, surprised. Then he grinned, “Oh, were you hoping I was going to strip?”
“Who wants to see you take your shirt off?”
“You should talk. You used to go swimming with almost nothing on.”
“I did not! I barely went in the water. I can’t swim well—you know that!”
“I’ll teach you if you want.” He leaned closer, warm breath against my ear. For a wild instant, I wondered if he was going to kiss me.
* * *
I’d been kissed before. By a boy I didn’t really care for. It was the year before Shin left for medical school, when I was still pining hopelessly after Ming. Ming had a friend named Robert Chiu, a boy from a wealthy family who lived close to Ipoh, and as I always wanted to be near Ming, I couldn’t help running into Robert a fair amount as well.
It was Robert who kissed me, on a bench outside the watch repair shop. Shin was off somewhere with yet another new girlfriend and Ming had been called away. I didn’t understand why Robert was always around. If I had a grand house with a long driveway and a shiny black car parked in it, I wouldn’t spend my afternoons down in a backwater like Falim, but he turned to me. Abruptly, as though he’d made up his mind, he seized my shoulders. His mouth was wet and hot and insistent; I couldn’t breathe. There was nothing heart-pounding about it other than the sheer panic I felt in getting him off me.
“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he said. “I thought you knew.”
I shook my head. My face was scarlet, my hands trembling. The last thing I wanted was a heart-to-heart talk with Robert but he’d clasped my hand in both of his and I couldn’t see any means of escape without shoving him off the bench. It was flattering yet horrific, like a slow-moving accident.
Fortunately, Ming emerged at that point. I felt vaguely ashamed, yet hopeful. Now was the time for him to burn with jealousy, since Robert was still holding my hand, but he only looked at us in his mild, reasonable way, and said to Robert, “Oh, did you talk to her already?”
I jumped up, snatching my hand away. “I’m sorry,” I said to Robert. “Thank you very much, but no thank you.”
He looked astonished. “You mean it’s no good?”
“No. Not at all.” And then I fled.
Irrationally, all I could think of was if I married Robert, then I’d be mistress of a large house in Ipoh with a Victrola, on which I could play as many popular songs as I liked. Tempting as that might be, it also meant fending off his sticky embraces. I recalled the girlish bloom on my mother’s face soon after she remarried, when I’d caught her sitting on my stepfather’s lap. There’d been something about that man that she liked, even now. But whatever it was, I wouldn’t find it with Robert. I was quite sure about that, though when Ming came to talk to me in his quiet, concerned way, I unexpectedly burst into tears.