Chapter 18 - Nothing But The Truth

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Chapter 18

Lana texts me over the weekend; she wants to know if I want to go out for tea sometime, anytime, before I go home to America. Reading over her text, I start to wonder if Auntie Ting had put her up to it. Our friendship is cordial at best; we both know it is a show for the sake of our parents, so why are we hanging out twice in the span of a week?

As much as I would love to be besties with her for the sake of our parents, the two of us didn't have much in common. My mother and her mother might have served together on a battlefield in Southeast Asia once, but the only thing she and I had in common was that at some point in our lives, we resided in the same apartment, and we both had a relationship with the boy downstairs.

Looking at Lana and Zhang is like looking through a portal at an alternate universe where I never went to America. Lana probably wants to hang out with me to be friendly, but the more I get to know her and Zhang, the more I feel like I'm glimpsing a version of myself that I was never meant to know.

"Zhang wants to join us. He says he'll behave better this time," she adds as I leave her on read. I finish watching Season Four of Arrested Development.

Dr. Su's advice about making the most of my trip nags at me. I'm here in Shanghai for a reason, and, as the universe would have it, it looks like it's not just to hook with Calvin Suzuki. I finally text back; "Sure. Didn't he mention a place he wanted to go to? Do you guys want to meet up at Yuyuan Garden?"

I chose that location because it's one I had taken the subway to before. At least this means I could hop back underground for a ride home immediately afterward instead of hailing a cab or calling on my uncle's driver.

Lana agrees, and we decide on Thursday afternoon. She first suggests Friday, but then I remember that I am supposed to meet Calvin and Andrew that day. What a relief it will be to see my old friends! Even if one of them has been ghosting me all week. I can't wait to tell them both about what a crazy week I've had.

~*~

Fang shows up on Thursday morning after missing an appointment on Wednesday. Dr. Su made Fang a standing appointment with Dr. Chen every day this week to show him that we are serious about treating his headaches. But I think Dr. Su did it to get Fang to leave his house and check in with us if he is contemplating doing something stupid.

I check him in at the front desk and immediately take him to a private room to wait for Dr. Chen. He complains the light is too bright, so I draw the shades and turn off half of the lights in the treatment room.

It's been more than seven days since he showed up in a broken state with Dr. Su, but he looks as sullen as he did back then. Except now he's back to smirking at me every so often like he's managed to turn his despair into sarcastic humor. 

He's still dashingly handsome, even in his current state. If anything, he's even more attractive now that he's wearing a crumpled white shirt with the collar unbuttoned, and his hair is full of messy curls that fall into his eyes. If only he would take his sunglasses off, I'm sure the picture of a ripped, macho James-Dean-in-Rebel-Without-a-Cause would be complete. 

He smells a little like aftershave mixed with whiskey. Even though I know I should ask him if he's still having suicidal thoughts, I have to admit this moody-devil-may-care attitude suits him. I don't think anyone could carry it off better. I guess that's why only people about a decade older than me are allowed to pretend to be real doctors. I'm supposed to be worried about his mental health, but my teenage hormones are saying, "His shirt collar is open! Check out those dreamy pecs!"

"You're a doctor, aren't you?" He asks me as I lay out the needles and alcohol wipes for Dr. Chen when she arrives. "Why is it that you have never asked me how I got into the accident that left me like this?"

I want to roll my eyes, but I stop myself. Fang's talking about himself like he's lost the use of his legs or perhaps lost his eyesight. In reality, he has a couple of burns, and his voice is a little raspy. If only he stopped lounging around like a jellyfish stranded on a beach, no one would even know anything was wrong with him.

"How did you get into the accident?" I ask to appease him.

"I was out with a friend, my best friend," Fang begins. "Li Kang. Maybe you've heard of him. He's famous."

I vaguely recall that name. I think he's the other actor I saw on the Chinese New Year special I caught back at the airport. Yeah, I remember. He looked ordinary, but I guess if I had grown up here, I would know the significance of that name.

"Maybe," I reply. "Was he involved in the accident too?"

"No, but he lent me the bike which I crashed into the mountainside on. It was supposed to be a private road, but there was a car that came down it, a repairman who had been called to fix one of Kang's swimming pools. I couldn't stop, and he swerved to miss me. His car flipped over, and that's when the fire started. The bike crushed my ankle, but I was able to limp over to the car. I reached into the fire to drag him out."

"That's how you got hurt?" I ask. "Did you save him?"

"No," Fang replies and laughs softly. His voice betrays a hint of raspiness. I don't know what he sounded like before the accident, but I am in love with every syllable he utters. "When Kang found out, he said it was good that the man didn't live or he would have had me on the hook for millions. Kang paid the man's family off. The man's family were rural people, and they didn't ask questions when Kang told them the car malfunctioned. He didn't even tell them about my part in it."

"And you wish could have told the truth?"

"No," Fang whispers and stares into the sliver of light peering out from behind the closed blinds. "I want to know why that repairman was on the road that day and why my bike couldn't stop. I want to know . . . why I found out yesterday that Kang was sighted out with my girlfriend."

"Oh," I say and feel at a loss for words. I wonder I should immediately leave the room and let Fang have a minute. This type of drama was much more than my acupuncture class had prepared me to deal with.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Fang suddenly as asks as I reach for the doorknob. "This is between us because you're a doctor, right?"

I'm not a doctor, but I don't know who I could tell. Am I going to call up my friends back home and say, Hey, I've got some juicy gossip about a guy you've never heard of? Nah.

"Your secret is safe with me. I am just here to help you feel better. Also, I can't write in Chinese so, don't worry, even if I wanted to tell someone, I wouldn't be able to."

Fang chuckles at that. "Thank you, Xiao Yishen."

I pause before I walk out. I felt awful because he looks so dejected. I didn't need to have a healer's instinct to know that something is sincerely wrong with him and the way he is sitting here in the dark with the sunglasses still on.

"Maybe you should tell your girlfriend about what happened. I'm sure she'll understand."

"The doctors in the ER thought I was drunk when I crashed the car," Fang continues, completely brushing aside my attempt to comfort him. He removes his sunglasses and puts them in his pocket. 

He looks at me, and we're able to make prolonged eye contact for the first time. I try not to stare at the scar on his eyebrow. It's in no way deforming; heck, Khal Drogo made his eyebrow scar into a sex symbol, but I suppose Fang's audience of pre-teen girls won't appreciate their idol looking as though he had been through a knife fight. "I wasn't drinking that morning or the night before it happened. No one here seems to believe anything I tell them. Do you believe me?"

"Of course," I reply and go back to fumbling around with the needles I laid out for Dr. Chen. I'm horrible at this entire sounding sincere thing. I don't know anything about what happened to him on the day of his accident other than what he just told me. Maybe, he doesn't care about that. Maybe he's not even looking to me for a flash of ingenious medical insight. Maybe all he needs is a friend. "I believe you. And I believe you're going to be okay."

"You're the only one who seems to care if I live or die," Fang snickers and puts his sunglasses back on. The shield is back up. He lays back on the exam table and sighs. "Why don't we get on with the treatment. You know how to do it, don't you?"

I gulp. Yes, I have done it before but only on grannies with elephant skin who laugh at me if I don't poke them deeply enough to stimulate their meridians.

"Just get a move on."

"Are you sure?"

Fang sighs again, and I immediately pick up the nearest needle. The one I pick up is discolored from all the times it's been sterilized. I sit down beside Fang and finds the Hegu point on his left hand. Holding my breath, I push the needle through his skin. He settles back into the chair and nods.

"I feel better already. You have a healing touch."

"Really?"

"You're much more skilled than that other doctor."

I bow my head down to appear as though I'm concentrating. As I see Fang closing his eyes to relax, I start to think Dr. Su has a point that what Fang needs isn't more medicine but rather someone to listen. 

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