Page 7 of Twice the Love

She even cooked a few of her favorite dishes for Lee and Harry and found them to be adventurous eaters, willing to try almost anything and appreciative of her introducing them to new tastes and styles of food.

****

Mr. Wang, who lived in the first house in the courtyard, was a very old gentleman who sometimes sat outside in the sun. He always nodded and smiled at Cherry, even inviting her to sit with him several times. Unfortunately he knew almost no English, so their time together was limited to him pointing to plants, or the sky, smiling and nodding.

Cherry had the distinct feeling he approved of her being there, which was a relief. She wanted to belong, to be accepted. But it was also intensely frustrating. She wanted to be able to chat with him. To talk to him about his long life and the things he remembered from this neighborhood in days gone by. She wanted to hear stories about Harry and Lee that he’d know from their pasts. She wanted to be connected to her new home, and pointing and smiling wasn’t enough. Cherry just knew this old man would be her friend, if only they could communicate better.

She’d spoken briefly to Mr. Zheng a few times, but he did seem to be away from home a lot. At the Shanghai offices of his company, she assumed. She really hoped they’d be able to talk more when he was not so busy. He was such a close-by neighbor, that she really wanted to know more about him.

The local shopkeepers smiled at her as she visited their stores, but it frustrated her that all she could do was point to the things she wanted to buy, not ask questions or have a conversation. Would cherries come into season here soon? What was the name of that strange orange fruit? Or was it a vegetable? And if so, what would it taste like, and how should she cook it?

Every day she checked her email, but almost never received any messages. It was as if she’d disappeared off the face of the Earth, not simply left town. Evidently her friends had moved on with their lives and forgotten her. And that hurt.

One morning Cherry got up, saw her men off to work, and realized she had absolutely nothing she needed to do until it was time to cook the evening meal—no friends to visit with, no one needing her, no employment. Her thirtieth birthday was just a few weeks away, and this was going to be her life for the next forty years or so. She didn’t even really know what their jobs involved and who their friends were. In fact, she knew almost nothing more about them than when she’d arrived here, although they were always unfailingly sweet and considerate to her.

Cherry folded her arms on the dining table, laid her head down and cried.

She cried for her lost life in America. A job she hadn’t loved, but which she’d been good at.

She cried for her friends who hadn’t called her on her new phone despite it having international roaming facilities, and most of whom hadn’t emailed her either, although she’d made a point of emailing them all a couple of times since she’d arrived, telling them what she was doing, about Beijing, and giving them her new cell phone number.

She cried for her lack of a family. For parents who’d divorced when she was small and neither of whom had really wanted her in their lives. For a father and mother who hadn’t kept in touch with her, despite her sending them newsy letters about her life a couple of times each year.

She cried for Lee and Harry, who’d been kind and gentle, respectful and patient with her, and who’d invested so much in her in the hope that this would be a mutually beneficial ongoing arrangement. She cried because they deserved so much better than she felt she could give them.

Both men had always been slightly on the outer fringes of Chinese society because they were part American. Although they looked quite Chinese, there were distinct differences from the average Han man of their age. Their eyes were a little rounder, their bodies more solid and muscular, and they were a fraction taller. Also, being bisexual had always been a reason for them to maintain their privacy. It was only very recently that homosexuality was acknowledged as neither illegal nor a mental illness in China, and the idea of bisexuality within a ménage couldn’t be openly practiced, even now.

She was not at all surprised they’d come together and found a kindred spirit in each other. In some ways their attitude to life was more American than Asian. The biggest difference in them was their ability to think and act outside the Chinese mainstream culture. Hence their decision to look for a woman to join them on an Internet message board.

Cherry had been drawn to the idea of moving somewhere overseas first, then to the men and to China. She’d firmly believed the only way to give herself a completely fresh start and a whole new life was to leave her old one totally behind. She’d never expected to be lonely, though. She’d been solitary and self-sufficient since she was a young child. But although she’d been alone she’d never imagined that she would be as isolated as she was now.

So she also cried for herself. She’d come to China to live with two men with her eyes wide open. She’d known what she was giving up and what she was doing. She’d thought it would be exciting, exploring a new land, making new friends, a new family, a whole new life. Instead her life was a tiny circle of housework, cooking and walking a few blocks to shops where she couldn’t even hold a proper conversation with the people. She didn’t even know all their names.

The local shopkeepers were all very friendly and welcoming, but their English was limited to a few basic words. Several had shared a pot of tea with her, and she was encouraged by their acceptance of her, but she couldn’t chat about anything at all with them. She was limited to pointing at items, smiling and saying thank you. She wanted to talk, really talk, with the locals. She wanted to share in their lives, to ask about their families, to smell and touch and taste every aspect of this exciting new land she was in.

“Well, what do I do now? Do I go back to America, get a job, start over and make my life there? Or do I stick it out here and be content with what I have?” she asked herself.

“I don’t want to do either,” she wailed, laying her head on her arms and sobbing again. In her despair, she’d totally lost sight of the fact that such a short time had passed, and that any woman who’d crossed the world to start a new life, could build that life around the circumstances she’d found herself in.

****

Cherry tried to pull herself together, washing her face with cold water, getting a notepad and pen, and sitting down to list the options and possibilities.

I could try to get a job, but without speaking Mandarin there’s very little I could realistically do. And the thought of riding a bicycle anywhere, as most people here do, scares the shit out of me. Could I find employment within walking distance? Work where I only need to speak English? Maybe teach people to speak English? But how would I do that without speaking Mandarin?

I suppose I could have a baby with one of them—but that would be grossly unfair to the other man, and my family was so dysfunctional I’m not sure I would be a very good mother.

I could start a hobby, a craft or sport or something technical. But the houses are so small and people don’t seem to go to the gym or play team sports. And again there’s the issue of having to travel around the city—back to the having to ride a bicycle problem again.

What about getting a pet? It couldn’t be a cat because of the fishpond. And the courtyard is very small for a dog to play in. Besides, what if it barked and upset Mr. Wang and Mr. Zheng? The houses are so close together. And I don’t think birds would fulfill me any more than the fish in the pond.

Cherry sighed and rested the pen on the blank notepad. “What the fucking hell am I supposed to do?” she wailed. Again, she began to cry.

She’d completely forgotten the strong woman she could be: the woman who had sold all her possessions, packed up her treasures, and traveled halfway across the world to start a new life.

Chapter Four

By the time the men arrived home Cherry’s head was pounding fiercely, her nose and eyes were red and sore, and she was no nearer to finding a solution than she’d been when they left. Silently she served their meal and sat with them, unable to eat because of her jangling nerves, unable to contribute to the conversation because of her pounding head.

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