The Night Tiger(58)
“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly. “Did he frighten you?”
I shook my head, pierced with sorrow. Ming didn’t care for me in that tight, aching, can’t-live-without-you sort of way. He was just being kind, like an older brother.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “He’s not a bad person though.” And he’s a good catch. Though Ming had too much delicacy to voice that. Unlike Shin, I thought bitterly, who’d probably urge me to hurry up and marry into money. I said as much to Ming, but he seemed surprised.
“No, Shin doesn’t know about this. And don’t mention it to him, will you?”
So we hadn’t. But whenever I thought about my first kiss, all the painful squeezing feelings of heartbreak and disappointment churned up. Not for poor Robert but for myself, because that was the day I truly understood that Ming would never love me.
* * *
Later on at the May Flower, there were so many times that men tried to get fresh that I’d learned to twist away at that telltale lunge. So when Shin got too close in the broom closet, after teasing about taking his shirt off, I panicked and shoved him back so hard that he hit the door with a thud.
“Ouch! What did you do that for?”
How could I possibly say that I’d thought my stepbrother was going to kiss me? It was ridiculous; besides, Koh Beng had just confirmed my suspicions that Shin had a girl in Singapore. And yet, there’d been an odd flutter in the pit of my stomach when he’d leaned in. As though a thousand moths were gathering around a candle that had silently and mysteriously been set aflame.
It was only because Shin was so good-looking, I decided. I was tired of dancing with paunchy old men and underage schoolboys, and now I was finally appreciating what I’d taken for granted across the dinner table all those years. This was such an outrageous thought that I started giggling hysterically. Working as a dance hostess had clearly ruined my morals.
The door opened abruptly. We both froze, blinking in the sudden light.
“What’s going on in here?” A sharp, spiky voice with the flattened intonations of a foreigner.
Shin turned swiftly, all laughter gone. “I’m sorry, Matron.”
So this was Matron. I felt sick. All my hopes of applying to the nursing program, with its requirements of good moral character, would be shattered if she happened to remember later that she’d caught me with a man in a broom closet.
“I hope that isn’t one of my nurses behind you,” she said, clearly not amused as we stumbled sheepishly into the corridor.
Shin said, “No, ma’am.” There was an awkward pause. Then he blurted out, “She’s my fiancée.”
“Your fiancée?” Her disbelief was palpable.
“I just proposed to her.”
“In the closet?”
I could almost see the little cogs turning in Shin’s head. It was hopeless, I thought. A made-up tale with nothing to validate it. But to my amazement, he put his hand into his trouser pocket and produced a small velvet-covered box. The ring inside was a simple twist of gold with five tiny garnets set like a flower. Slipping it onto my finger, he grinned triumphantly at Matron.
She was so taken aback that she could only smile weakly. “Well, Mr.… Lee, is it? Please refrain from such behavior on hospital grounds. But congratulations!”
Shin ducked his head, looking as pleased as though he’d performed a magic trick. For it was indeed magic. All suspicion and censure evaporated as Matron softened up. She shook hands with both of us, wishing us the best. Shin was deliberately charming, which was good because I was dumbstruck.
I walked a little behind the two of them, trying to compose myself. The ring on my left hand was too loose—I had to curl my fingers so that it wouldn’t slip off—but that was to be expected since it had been sized for another girl. How would she feel about Shin using her ring to get out of trouble in this manner?
This pretty, slender gold ring had been chosen with great care. I couldn’t imagine that any girl would refuse it, and for a moment, I was overcome by an unexpected tide of desolation. A choking loneliness that made my teeth ache.
21
Batu Gajah
Week of June 15th
Ren is excited about the upcoming dinner party at William’s house. It’s a monthly affair that rotates among a set of younger doctors. Some have wives, but even the married ones often live as bachelors because their families are back in England. So it will be mostly men, says Ah Long. The few wives that stay face the boredom of languid days, stretching into emptiness. With plenty of servants and no housework to do, they volunteer at charities, play tennis, and, if gossip is to be believed, swap husbands.
“Why?” asks Ren. Switching people and houses seems troublesome to him, but Ah Long shakes his head and says that he’s too young to understand.
But Ren does understand. Sort of. It’s to do with not being happy although he thinks that William is a good master and some woman is bound to want him. The lady at the hospital comes to mind, the one with the soft hair like a steamed sponge cake. Lydia, that’s her name. She followed William home on Sunday after church.
From his master’s overly polite face, Ren could tell that he wasn’t pleased. Apparently he’d planned to drop Lydia off first before sending a patient home, but Lydia managed to insist on a visit. Ren only paid attention because the patient was Nandani. His patient, he thinks, with a small welling of pride.