Page 23 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Of course he did.”

“People are boarding the bus. We should go.”

“Sit next to me. And let me take the window seat. I don’t want some jovial rando talking my arse off on the way. I will have my earbuds screwed in tight, my playlist on max and my sunglasses fixed in place, doing my best to catch up on sleep.”

“This is going to be fun.”

Once they settled on the coach and had rumbled some way along the expressway, Tommy pushed his sunglasses onto his head and removed one of the earbuds. Next to him, Mitchell had his hands folded in his lap, eyes shut as though in meditation. When Tommy nudged him gently on his shoulder, Mitchell’s eyes popped open and he turned his head to Tommy.

“I apologise for being a grinch,” said Tommy. “I promise I’m not always like this. But this is the second successive Sunday morning sleep-in I’ve been denied. My mood will have improved considerably by lunchtime. And thank you again for the coffee.”

“No need to apologise. This is all excellent fodder for my Tommy Chow character file. You know? For your sister’s wedding.”

Tommy groaned and lowered his sunglasses. “We really are doing this, aren’t we?”

“As instructed.”

By the time the bus dropped them off at Pak Tam Chung, the start of the trail, Tommy felt infinitely better. Oscar met them at the bus door, recording people’s names as they stepped off. His smile broadened when he saw Tommy standing behind Mitchell. Devon must have said something.

“Where’s Devon?” asked Mitchell. Tommy had been about to ask the same question.

“He said he was going to join us for the walk,” added Tommy.

“Did he?” said Oscar, shrugging while he looked down at his clipboard. “Sorry, he volunteered to accompany the other novice hikers. They wanted to get a head start and not be responsible for holding up the rest of us at the end of the hike.”

Tommy’s heart sank. Although he had agreed to accompany Mitchell, he’d counted on having Devon as a buffer to chat with in case the conversation with Mitchell became stilted. Strangely enough, Mitchell appeared equally crestfallen. Maybe he’d hoped for the same thing. Just as Tommy was about to break the awkwardness by asking Mitchell about the route, Oscar called the crowd together.

“It’s going to be another hot one. Don’t push yourselves—this is not a race—and please make sure you stay hydrated. I find it’s best to sip fluids continuously. On the route, there are a few places with potable water outlets to top up your bottles. Can I also ask you to take a few small plastic sacks with you, to place your litter in and pick up any items you find along the way. You can tie them up and dump them into the public bins lining the trail.”

Tommy almost rolled his eyes at Mitchell. Oscar never seemed to be off duty. But he noticed Mitchell nodding in agreement.

The first part of the trek entailed walking up a gently sloping road. In silence, they trailed the chatter of other hikers who had set a pleasant pace. Once again, they had lucked out on a cloudless day, which at that early hour was comfortably cool. Surrounded by the soft chirping of woodland birds, a gentle breeze and the absence of traffic sounds, everything conspired to improve Tommy’s mood.

At one point, when they drew level with a group of stragglers, he chatted to them in Cantonese for a while. Unsurprisingly for his fellow Hongkongers, their main topic of conversation was about the food they planned to eat when they reachedthe famous seafood restaurant a short bus ride from the finishing line. He laughed along with them before realising Mitchell strolled beside him, not understanding a word. After a quick introduction, everyone transitioned to English, and they continued chatting, this time including Mitchell.

As they made their way towards the High Island Reservoir, the largest in the territory according to Mitchell, trying his best to contribute, and with the sparkling blue ocean of the South China Sea on their right, they gradually peeled away again, both relaxing and opening up. Tommy found he enjoyed listening to Mitchell even though they were polar opposites.

In the spirit of getting to know each other and helping pass the time, Tommy suggested they play a question game, five quick-fire personal questions posed by each of them that both had to answer. And as he had come up with the idea, he insisted on being the first to pose questions. Mitchell nodded, correctly judging that doing otherwise would be pointless.

“Let’s start easy. Favourite colour?”

Mitchell took time to answer, as though afraid of answering incorrectly. Even when there was no right or wrong answer. Tommy noticed him staring at the cloudless sky then at the other hikers.

“Blue.”

“What shade of blue? Azure, cyan, cobalt, teal?”

“What shade of blue is the jacket the woman in front is wearing, the one with the orange baseball cap? I’m no good with hues.”

“Royal blue. Conservative but predictable, I suppose.”

“Why? What’s your favourite?”

“Hot pink, of course.”

“Of course.” Tommy noticed Mitchell shaking his head but smirking.

“Best female singer of the noughties?”

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