Petals From The Sky Part 17

Philip n.o.ble Michael's busy schedule kept him at the hospital for long hours and we didn't have much chance to talk. Two days later, before I could bring up the issue of Lisa again, he had to go to Boston for two days, to attend a meeting about one of his research projects. He'd already told me about this and apologized when he'd invited me to visit him in the States.

Although I was still very upset by what had happened, without Michael's presence the apartment suddenly seemed quiet, as if a veil had fallen over it. Pangs stabbed my chest as I saw the empty s.p.a.ce by my side in the foyer mirror. I went to lie on the sofa, but the fabric felt cold under me.

Finally I went to the study, flipped on the desk lamp, and braced myself to do some reading. When I was picking my books, I noticed a folded card leaning against the lamp. On the side of the card was a gold phoenix, and next to it was Michael's handwriting: "To Meng Ning." I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and opened it. It read: Dearest Meng Ning,I'm so sorry I have to leave you on your own during your stay here. In case you need cash, there is some in the top desk drawer. The fridge is still stocked, but please also go out and have some nice meals. In case there is any problem, call Philip n.o.ble, or for small matters, ask Frank the doorman. Take care. Sorry that we quarreled. I'll talk more after I've come back. I love you.Michael I pulled out the drawer and found a pile of bills-fifties, twenties, tens, and ones. I counted; there was about five hundred dollars altogether. A surge of warmth rose inside me as I dropped the money back into the drawer, muttering, "Hai, Michael, I love you, too. But..." Michael, I love you, too. But..."

Still feeling very confused and upset, I went to the kitchen and imitated a Cantonese cafe in Hong Kong by fixing myself a "fatty jumps into the sea"-a raw egg dropped into sugared hot water. Stirring the water and looking at the egg dissolve into surrealistic yellow-orange ribbons soothed my nerves. I nursed the gla.s.s to warm my hand, then sipped the scalding liquid and let out a sigh.

The phone startled me. I almost knocked over "fatty" as I reached to grab the receiver.

Steadying the gla.s.s, I said into the phone in a loving tone, "Hi, Michael, you miss me?"

To my shock, what came from the other end of the line was a vaguely familiar male voice. "Of course I miss you, Meng Ning."

"Who is it?"

"Philip. Philip n.o.ble."

"Oh, Philip, how are you?" Michael's glamorous buddy's achingly handsome face quickly crept its way into my mind.

Then his rich baritone voice breathed into my ear. "Meng Ning, since Michael is away, I'm calling to ask if you need any help, like...my company?"

"Hmm..." I couldn't really say I don't want your company, I don't want your company, could I? So I remained silent. could I? So I remained silent.

"Come on, Meng Ning, don't be stuck at home by yourself-that's not healthy. Come out and see the world." Now his voice was like heavily sweetened hot cocoa, or my "fatty." "You don't have to be like Michael, who works so hard all the time. Anyway, Michael asked me to tend to you while he's away. So, would you let me teach you how to relax and have fun?"

"Hmm...but I'd rather stay home..."

"Please, you should go out and let other people see how beautiful you are. Nice things should not be hidden from the world."

"But, Philip..."

"No more 'buts,' Meng Ning. Michael will be away for two days. Can you just forget him for forty-eight hours? I'll take you to a real nice restaurant and then a cafe that brews the best coffee you've ever tasted. Please, humor me."

In spite of my uncertainty, I found myself chuckling at his language and heard myself mutter an "all right," while the handsome face refused to vanish from my mind.

"Wonderful. I'll pick you up at six this evening."

At the door, I was surprised to see Philip holding a dozen elegantly wrapped, long-stemmed pink roses.

"For you, my Chinese G.o.ddess."

"Oh, Philip, you don't have to do this."

"But I can't help it."

A few minutes later, Philip was opening his car's door for me. Although the car looked small and very uncomfortable with its extremely low seats, a few pa.s.sersby threw us envious stares.

A thirtyish black man rushed toward us from the adjacent building, exclaiming, "Wow, a silver Lotus!"

Philip pointed a finger at him and split a white-toothed smile. "You bet."

The black man winked. "Beautiful Chinese girl, too. Man, your luck's up. You have it all!"

"Sure thing, pal."

"You like the car?" Philip asked when the car hit the road. Despite the heavy Manhattan traffic, he managed the steering wheel like a performance artist.

"Not really. You're so tall, don't you find it uncomfortable with such low, plunge-and-hit-your-bottom-hard seats?"

He gave out a hearty laugh, silvery like his moving toy. "Then I must be a fool, paying a fortune to be uncomfortable. Meng Ning, that's why I really like you. You're so different from all my exes. A breath of fresh air among suffocating perfume."

I didn't know what to say to that. Then, in less than five minutes, Philip pulled to a stop in front of an elegant entrance. Out of nowhere, a young man arrived and took Philip's key with extended hand, into which Philip stuffed a few bills.

"This is the very famous Russian Tea Room," Philip said as he held my elbow and gently steered me into the lobby filled with elegantly dressed people, milling around or occupying thick, red leather seats amidst Tiffany lamps and luscious oil paintings of flowers and landscapes.

"We're not dining here, but on the higher floor in the Palace." He cast me a conceited, mysterious glance.

I understood right away why this was called the Palace the moment I stepped inside the dining hall. The ceiling was almost two stories high with a huge chandelier hanging low like an old womb. Crystals, like diamonds, shot their dazzle in all directions, not missing a soul. Everything seemed to be floating in gold, silver, and vibrant red.

A tuxedoed waiter led us to a seat at the corner under a floral oil painting and took our orders for drinks. In no time, he came back with a bottle of red wine and a gla.s.s for Philip and a c.o.ke for me. Since I had had my "fatty" earlier and was not hungry, I decided to skip the appetizer and Philip said he would do the same to keep me company.

After the waiter scribbled down our orders and left, Philip clinked his gla.s.s against mine. "Welcome to the Big Apple, Meng Ning."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a little breathless in the company of such a gorgeous man.

Now I noticed that Philip was wearing a perfectly tailored beige suit and a gold silk tie. His thick mop of blond hair swayed to his fluid movements as if it had a life of its own. When he talked, he gestured a lot with his delicate hands and sensuous fingers. His eyes, blue and unfathomable as the night sky, possessed a dreamy expression as if he were forever enamored with this floating world.

"You like c.o.ke a lot?"

"Yes, it's my favorite Western beverage."

"You want to try my fifty-year-very-old Chateau Lafite-Rothschild?" Chateau Lafite-Rothschild?"

"What's that? No thanks." Then I felt I had to challenge his emphasis on the very-old very-old drink. "Philip, things have to be at least three to four hundred years old to be considered drink. "Philip, things have to be at least three to four hundred years old to be considered very very old." old."

He chuckled; sparks flicked in his blue eyes like twinkling stars. He changed the subject. "Since you dismiss my silver Lotus, hope you like this gold Palace?"

What should I say? The whole place smelled of money-old or nouveau-but to get rich was not my goal in life. Besides, as Yi Kong always pointed out, riches are transient and illusory.

However, I put on a stunning smile to match the stunning face across from me. "I think anyone would be impressed by the Louvre or Buckingham Palace. Only I would never live in such a place-too uncomfortable to inhabit, just like your Lotus."

"Meng Ning, what secret formula do you possess to make yourself so likeable? "Philip stared straight at me, his voice sincere; his expressive blue eyes were now the color of Van Gogh's starry sky. "Can I have the pleasure of knowing you better?"

Before I could respond, he continued. "How come I'm always a step behind Michael?" He let out a chuckle. Now his hair glistened like Van Gogh's sunflower under the restaurant's golden light. "Otherwise you could have been my my fiancee. Why is he always so lucky to get the best?" fiancee. Why is he always so lucky to get the best?"

"Philip, don't you already have all the best in life? Your Lotus, your practice..." I wanted to say your movie-star good looks, your movie-star good looks, but stopped myself just in time. I definitely didn't want him to think that I was attracted to him romantically.... Then my heart started to pound. Was I? but stopped myself just in time. I definitely didn't want him to think that I was attracted to him romantically.... Then my heart started to pound. Was I?

He squeezed my hand with his perfectly manicured one. "Maybe, Meng Ning, but I haven't gotten the best woman." He sipped his fifty-year-old drink meditatively, then said, "I've been with lots of women in my thirty-six years, but none as beautiful nor unique as you."

"Philip, you barely know me." Although I was flattered by what he said, he also made me feel uncomfortable. Hai, Hai, that's exactly what Yi Kong told me over and over-never trust men, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, Oriental or Occidental. that's exactly what Yi Kong told me over and over-never trust men, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, Oriental or Occidental.

"You're definitely an old soul. I had this gut feeling the moment Michael introduced you to me." He paused, his expression turning very tender and his voice intoxicating. "Meng Ning, allow me to be bold...I think maybe we were soul mates in our past lives."

Before I knew how to respond, he went on. "To be honest, I've never known any woman who can bring out so much tenderness in my whole being. Right now, my heart is aching."

"Philip, please..." While not knowing what to say, I felt a heat growing inside me and radiating through my whole body. I downed some more icy c.o.ke while my eyes devoured the face of this Hollywood-handsome man, seemingly so approachable, and yet so distant.

Just then the waiter returned with our food. "Scampi with pasta for madame and steak tartare for the gentleman. Enjoy."

The food was delicious, the drink soothing, and the setting romantic. Under the dazzling, yellowish light, Philip's strong cheekbones and sharp jaw looked like they were chiseled from a sculpture. He looked very manly in a slightly disreputable way-a completely different kind of man from Michael. He was so excessively handsome that he seemed impossible to reach-even though he was sitting right across from me. But then why would he want to reach me so eagerly? Did he want me to be his next toy, a China doll, like his Lotus? Or just because Michael had asked him to tend to me while he was away?

We ate in silence for a while. The only sound was the pleasant clinking of the forks, knives, gla.s.ses, and dishes. I also noticed a few women-young and old-shooting envious glances toward me. The young girl across from our table accompanied a wrinkle-faced, richly dressed old man. The s.e.xy girl at the table next to her seemed to draw away from her horse-faced nerd companion.

I tried but failed to suppress the corners of my lips from rising.

Philip looked at me curiously. "Hope you at least like your food. Good?"

The scampi melted inside my mouth. "It tastes like it was cooked by an imperial chef in an ancient palace where if the emperor took only one bite instead of two, the cook would be executed."

"Wow, that's really dramatic! I like that." Philip smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. "There are two things I really love in life-good food and beautiful, intelligent women."

"Me, too," I said, spearing another scampi, "especially women. That's why I am so close to my Buddhist nun mentor. She is beautiful, like a film star."

"But Buddhist nuns have to shave their heads, right?" Philip took a hearty bite of his raw steak. "I can't imagine a bald woman being attractive."

"Not until you see my mentor."

He was now sipping his wine thoughtfully. "But why would you have a nun as a mentor?"

I blurted out, "Because I wanted to be a nun, and it's Michael who..." I stopped.

"You did? Michael never told me that!" He scrutinized me intensely. The blue of his eyes shone like a sapphire under the mysterious full moon. "That would be such a waste. Meng Ning, promise me, never try again to be a nun. Anyway, I don't like nuns."

"Why? These women are very nice, compa.s.sionate people," I said, picking at my vegetables.

"Because they don't like men! That really irks me, especially those pretty ones. They deprive men who deserve good women."

I'd never thought of it that way.

He cut off another chunk of meat and put it into his mouth. I noticed the color of his sensuously moving lips matched exactly his blood-streaked steak. "Your naivete makes you so appealing," he said.

"Thanks, but I'm already thirty, so I don't think I'm that naive." I tried but failed to twirl the pasta onto the fork.

He eyed my awkwardness with amus.e.m.e.nt for a while, then said, "That makes you even more naive. OK, now tell me about your past with the nuns." He put down his fork, then delicately dabbed his lips with the white napkin.

So I did.

After I'd finished, Philip held my hand for a long time before he finally released it. "Meng Ning, let's go home."

I was surprised that the place where he pulled up was not Michael's apartment building. "Philip, but this is not where Michael lives."

"I know. It's where I live."

Although I wanted very much to say I needed to go home, my body involuntarily followed his.

Philip's apartment looked very different from Michael's. While Michael's was decorated with Chinese objects, Philip's was, like him, glamorous and sumptuous. Richly colored abstract oil paintings and gla.s.s bookcases covered the walls. Antiques of various shapes and sizes struck elegant poses in ornate cabinets. The carpet was thick, lush, with Occidental motifs of mystical animals in vermillion, green, and purple.

"Very nice apartment," I exclaimed. "But I think I really should go home. Michael may call anytime."

"Meng Ning, would you compa.s.sionately grant a lonely chap the pleasure and honor just to have an after-dinner drink with you?"

Feeling completely powerless, I muttered a weak, "Yes, of course."

After he led me to sit down on his huge ivory leather sofa covered with colorful pillows, he went inside the kitchen and soon returned with a lacquer tray. He put down the tray and handed me a gla.s.s. After that, he sat next to me on the sofa, took off his jacket and tie, then started to sip his drink thoughtfully. Although he was not very near to me, instinctively I moved away a bit.

We started to chat about various things-music, films, art, museums, and his practice. I was surprised when he told me that some of his patients were Hollywood stars.

"I'm very tempted to tell you who they are, but I can't." He took another sip of his drink and looked at me with eyes soft and tender like blue silk. "But you know what? None of these stars can compete with your beauty."

"Thank you for your kindness, Philip, but please don't exaggerate."

His expression turned serious. "No, not a bit. Their beauty is all skin-deep. I'm the one who fixes their skin so I know. Meng Ning, none of them can compete with your natural beauty, your naturalness, your mystery. It must be because of your Zen study."

"Oh, Philip, you're overpraising me." Now my face must be the same color as his blood-streaked steak!

"With you, I only speak from my heart. I'd never have the heart to lie to this innocent face of yours," he said, reaching to touch my cheek.

"Philip..." My cheek was hot, and so was his hand.

He murmured, his voice soaked in alcohol, "Meng Ning, I can't help it; I just can't. I'm in love with you, helplessly and desperately."

"But this is only the third time you have seen me." I tried to act calm, but my heart was beating like a door frantically knocked upon by a debt collector.

"Time is irrelevant," he said, then pulled me close to him.

"Philip, please don't..."

"Shhh...be quiet." In no time, he sealed my lips with his. His hands held my waist tight. Then he pulled my whole body against his, warm like an oven.