Chapter 21 - It's Okay To Be A Loose End

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Chapter 21

"What was that?" Zhang demands after Calvin and Andrew are gone. "I'm dating your best friend!"

"S-sorry!" I exclaim. "I don't know why I did that." My cheeks are burning, and the regret fills me up. Only now does it occur to me how selfish I've been acting. Zhang might have been my friend once, but now he's Lana's boyfriend. I haven't been treating her like a real friend or respecting that Zhang feels no attachment to me.

"Look, I'm sorry too," Zhang rolls his eyes like he can't believe that I'm losing it. He starts backing up like if he sees any sign of waterworks, he will make a run for it. "You're just not my type, and I'm in love with Lana. Not you."

"Okay, okay," I stammer. "Look, I get it. I don't like you either."

After that kiss, things are weird between Zhang and me. Lana is still stuck on the train. I can't go out and have tea with the two of them after what happened with Calvin. I excuse myself, saying that I suddenly have a headache (darn the humidity here) and need to go home.

Zhang is understanding now that a possible exit is in sight. He says because Lana is so late, and I have to be at the hospital tomorrow, we should reschedule for another time. He abruptly walks away and leaves me alone by the lake at the center of Yuyuan Garden.

As I walk to the subway station, I feel a torrent of emotions. I am both devastated by Calvin's betrayal and sorry that I kissed Lana's boyfriend. I don't know why I came back here to completely screw up what had once been a fond childhood memory. Now, I've kissed Zhang, who I only wanted to be friends with, even as I was in love with another boy.

To make matters worse, as I walk past a make-up store with the world's cheeriest Sanrio stuffed animals on display, I hear a familiar voice blaring from the speakers.

"I am telling you again that my love for you will never fade," it's Fang Yao singing again. "Even if we've been parted for five thousand years."

The man is everywhere. I see girls pausing by the speakers, eating crushed ice with mochi and tapioca pearls. They're giggling and nodding their heads to the song. And for some reason, I'm overcome with rage. Not just at Fang and his unrealistic ideals of love, but at all love songs for teaching me to hope, yearn, and believe that I could have a stud like Calvin Suzuki. I almost want to take a permanent marker and scrawl on the TV monitor in the store's window showing Fang's dreamy face that he is a liar. All men are liars. I don't believe in love songs. Or in love, for that matter.

~*~

Early next week, Fang shows up much later than his standing appointment time slot on Monday. He doesn't come by until around three in the afternoon, and his appointment was for noon. Dr. Chen has long since left for a departmental meeting about new billing practices when Fang drags his sad sack of bones into our waiting room.

"You're three hours late for your appointment, and Dr. Chen left for the day."

"Why are you yelling at me?" Fang leans back and rubs his temples. "Stop shouting."

"Okay," I lower my voice to a whisper and lean in closer. I catch a whiff of whiskey and sweat off his damp shirt. He looks as though he hasn't showered in twenty-four hours and his mopey tone tells me he's been down to the bottom of every last bottle in his house. Even so, when he lounges back in his chair and shows off a glimpse of his perfect chest, he still looks like a magazine ad. The boy is a natural. Even now, he doesn't have a single bad angle. Bad smells, on the other hand, that's a different story. I never liked the smell of alcohol. Maybe it reminds me too much of marijuana which broke up my parents' marriage. "Dr. Chen can't see you today. Want to come back Friday?"

"What? Summon her back!" Fang snaps, suddenly forgetting that he had just requested quiet for his poor hungover eardrums. "Tell her I need to see her now."

"Why? Is your headache so bad? Maybe coffee and some Advil are all that you need. A shower too."

Fang chuckles at that. He sniffs at his shirt collar seems to nod at me in agreement. "You're the first person in a long time who has told me I stink."

"It's okay; everyone smells. We're all human, even you, Mr. Fang Yao."

"My ex-friends don't think so," Fang continues laughing even though it's turning into a kind of mad laughter. I take a step back, but he reaches out and catches the sleeve of my white coat. "Please forgive me for acting like a lunatic. I have a good reason for showing up like this, and it's not because of what you think. "

"I think you just need to communicate with her and with the rest of your family."

"No, no," Fang says and waves my suggestion away. I'm starting to wonder if he's hungover or if he's still drunk. "Everyone has left me because I might never perform again. Even my ex-girlfriend turned around on her high heels and walked out the door. She's probably back in that asshole Kang's arms now."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say reflexively, as is my habit whenever people share their sob stories with me here in the acupuncture wards. As I take in what he told me, I realize that it's not just for show. I'm feeling sorry for this guy whose Patek Philippe watch probably costs more than my house back home in Queens, New York. I should get back to taking care of the patients whose problems would help me to get a scholarship to Harvard, not some movie star with romance problems.

"I should go now," Fang says as I start to glance at the other patients in the waiting room. He gets up clumsily as though his legs have turned to noodles. "Thanks for listening to me, little doctor. Tell Dr. Su this acupuncture thing isn't working for me, and I don't need you to schedule more appointments. I'm going back to my specialist in Beijing."

"W-wait!" I yell and try to block his exit. "Don't make me tell Dr. Su he's not your doctor anymore. You've known him for ages. Tell him yourself."

"Can't; I have things to do."

"Like what? Mope about being dumped?" I demand. "I was dumped too last week, and I still showed up to work today. Y-yeah, I found my boyfriend making out with a dumpling waitress in an alley behind a bubble tea store! It might not seem like a big deal to a big international star like you, but I liked that bubble tea store. Do you know how much it hurts to associate delicious dirty brown sugar bubble tea with my cheating boyfriend? I still can't believe I caught him locking lips with a girl he met while he was on a date with me!"

Fang whistles a little in sympathy. Now that the dam has broken, I keep going.

"I can't believe I got to second base with that jerk. I have only done that with a guy once in my life, and I didn't even enjoy it because I was so nervous. Based on that experience, I don't even know if I will like sex when I get to have it one day. I would have liked to give it another go with Calvin, but no, he's already moved onto the next one. I'm pathetic, aren't I?"

"I agree with you on that."

"And that's not the worst part of it! I kissed my best friend's current boyfriend to make my ex-boyfriend jealous. Now I have to avoid her even though she's my only friend here in Shanghai. To make it worse — Zhang wasn't into me at all, and I just did it because I didn't care."

"Do you like him?" Fang asks with a smirk as though he's finally glad that there's someone in this room with a more screwed-up love-life than his own. "Not your ex, the new boy, Zhang, that you stole off your friend."

"I don't know," I respond in all truthfulness. "Zhang and I were childhood friends. Over the last couple of days, I've started to wonder if I came back to find out what happened to him. In America, we call it — tying up loose ends."

"Now you've done the opposite. Those loose ends are choking you."

"Yeah," I reply with a laugh now. I guess that's a literal way of interpreting that idiom. "Kind of like the most tangled red string of fate."

"He'll come back. I think you're a much better catch than your friend or that girl from the bubble tea store."

"Maybe," I reply and brush off Fang's sad attempt to comfort me. I must look pathetic if I need a man who was threatening suicide just a week ago to assure me the world isn't a horrible place. "Can I help you back to your car? Please tell me you didn't drive yourself here."

"I did. What's wrong with that?"

"Seriously?"

"Do you think I want my driver dropping me off here every day? Driving here myself is the only way I keep the paparazzi dogs from following me to your front lobby. The papers would have a field day if they suspected I had mental problems."

He throws the papers off his scent by driving himself? I wonder. How rich is this guy that no one believes he has his own driver's license? I decide not to ask. Fang is becoming angrier the more I question him on his ability to drive.

"I understand your need for privacy. Let me call you a cab."

"No, no cabs," Fang heads for the door as though he's had it with me. After only a couple of steps in the direction of the exit, he runs over the nearest garbage bin and hurls his guts into it. I scramble over to him and block him off from the view of several curious onlookers. People are staring. They can't help it. The sound of his violent guttural hurling reminds me of a dying moose.

I immediately regret my act of charity—a wet splotch of sticky, slimy vomit lands directly on top of my Nike sneakers. I'm sure there are a million girls in the world who would sell their souls to be vomited on by Fang Yao. I'm not one of them.

I wrinkle my nose even though I'm trying to be professional and doctorly. My mom says that she gets all sorts of body fluids spewed all over her as a nurse. I feel like I'm going to lose the contents of my stomach as I feel the wetness seep in through the breathable top part of my Nike's.

"I'm sorry," Fang apologizes as I frantically scrape the more solid chunks of his stomach contents off my shoe. "I'm so sorry, little doctor. I'll buy you a new pair."

"Yeah, right. You said you were never coming back again. It's okay; I was planning to throw these old shoes away anyway."

"I feel better now," Fang wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up straight. He clears his throat. "You're right about the driving. I'm having dinner with my brother tonight anyway. Maybe I'll take a cab to Pudong instead."

"Great, I'm happy to hear it. Goodbye, Mr. Yao. Have a nice life. Try not to kill yourself."

"Hey," Fang says as he turns around. He offers me his hand, and then takes it back when he realizes there's vomit on his sleeve. "You want to come with me? To dinner? I'll buy you a new pair of sneakers."

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