Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

Just then a great commotion arose like a small carnival below me.

“Oh, my God, what’s happening?” I quickly wiped my bottom, pulled up my pants, and looked down. To my utter shock and disgust, there was a whole group—adult, teenage, and baby pigs—competing to snatch up what my bottom had just dropped!

I dashed outside the toilet and sprinted back to the hotel as if chased by the King of Hell wielding a rusty sword.

After I plunged into our room, a startled Alex stared at me. “You OK?”

Still panting heavily, I asked, “Alex, are you going to use the bathroom?”

“Yeah, why not?” He made a funny face. “Anyone there?”

“No.”

“Then what’s up?”

“It’s for me to know and for you to find out.” I giggled. “Be careful what you wish for… you’ll be getting your oink, oink….”

Alex threw me a puzzled look, grabbed the toilet paper, and left. I decided that while he’d be conducting his business cheered by his beloved “oink, oink,” I’d take a walk to stretch my limbs and calm myself. On the ground there was practically nothing to see except a few telephone poles above and tiny lizards darting around below. The sky, however, had turned a striking purple, set off by a few reddish gold clouds. In the very far distance, a dry tree trunk surrounded by bushes looked like it was trying to touch the sky, as if bridging heaven and earth. The image was so unexpectedly beautiful that I felt lost, imagining myself the first human at the beginning of time. I rushed back into the hotel to snatch my camera, then dashed back out to snap pictures.

It was the chirping of a bird that pulled me back to the here and now and the darkening sky. I suddenly thought that Alex must be back and worrying about me. I started to run back to the hotel.

To my great relief, Alex was sound asleep in bed. Poor thing! He must have been exhausted from the long day’s driving. Feeling totally awake myself, I sat on the sofa, turned on the TV, keeping the volume low, and tried to see if there was anything interesting to keep me company. Alas, it was snowing heavily—not outside, of course, but on the screen. I twisted the antenna for a few minutes before I could finally recognize that it was a kung fu movie with ferocious faces, swift-flying legs and fists, and Bruce Lee-esque howling. After a few more minutes, during which I could not see through the “snowstorm” to decide who was the hero and who the villain, I turned it off.

Finally boredom took over so I switched off the light and crawled into bed. Although Alex was sound asleep, I could feel his body heat envelop me. I was also relieved that sex was not in the cards, since it looked like he was going to sleep through the night. However, even in his deep sleep, occasionally he’d reach out to hold me, grasp my hand, or touch my leg, then gave out a few satisfied murmurs before he fell back into oblivion.

My young lover, silent and motionless except for his chest’s gentle heaving, turned into a child in front of me. Staring at his innocence and vulnerability I felt overwhelmed by an expansive tenderness. A motherly voice told me that I should be the one who’d protect and take care of him, not the other way around. Poor child, he must have long suffered from his biological parents’ abandonment, then his adoptive parents’ emotional neglect. He must be very lonely. I couldn’t remember him ever mentioning any friends, male or female. Did he have any?

I cuddled against Alex and buried my face in his naked chest, feeling his heart beating with mine in the dark. As I was letting the day’s cares melt away, I suddenly felt a sharp sting on my right toe, and a loud “Aiiiya!” shot out from my mouth.

Alex sprang up from the bed and pulled me to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his arms protective and his voice frightened.

“My foot!”

“Wait,” he said, and went to snap on the light.

Feeling the sharp, throbbing pain escalating, I yelled, “Alex, it’s my right toe!”

“Don’t move and let me take a look.” He knelt down by the bed and lifted my foot. “My God, it’s red and swollen.”

Before I had a chance to respond, Alex was already sucking hard at my toe and spitting out brownish liquid. I was too frightened even to ask him to stop. Oh, God, I’m not ready to die. Please just let me go in and come out of this terrible desert!

Finally Alex stopped, big beads of perspiration oozing from his forehead and coursing down his cheeks.

He said, his expression dead serious, “Lily, we’d better go to the hospital right now.” Despite the gentle sound, I knew it was an order, not a suggestion.

At the counter, the receptionist was fast asleep on a cot, but Alex awakened him in a peremptory tone and demanded directions to the hospital.

The rest was a blur. I knew that Alex carried me all the way to the truck and drove me to a hospital, but I had no idea where. A young doctor with a frayed white coat checked my toe, cleansed and bandaged it, then gave me an injection. Alex and I both felt tremendous relief when he told us the bite, probably from a scorpion, was painful but not lethal. However, I needed to stay overnight for observation. After this “good” news, I collapsed onto the stained hospital bed.

Early the next morning, the doctor came back to check up on me. He did another examination, changed the bandage, and gave me another injection. After that, he handed me a small plastic bag of medicine and gave instructions on how to take it. Alex and I thanked him profusely, paid, left the hospital, then drove back to the hotel.

When the owner saw Alex carrying me across the threshold, he rushed to us. “Everything OK?”

We nodded and thanked him. Then, when Alex was about to carry me back to the room, the owner waved a stopping hand.

“Wait, wait,” he said, taking a black plastic bag from a drawer and then holding it out to us. “Take a look.”

Alex put me down. We peered into the bag and saw, staring back at us, a monstrous, many-legged, reddish brown, living scorpion!

Alex quickly closed the bag as I yelled an alarmed “Aiiya!” Two men who had been sitting on the sofa chatting to each other swung their heads in our direction.

The owner smiled. “It’s only an insect, miss.”

Just then the bag fell onto the ground and out crawled the creepy creature, looking quite horrified itself and attempting to scurry away on its many horrible legs.

“Kill it!” I yelled.

As Alex was about to squash the giant bug, the owner pushed him away. “No!” he said, then pointed to our room. “I caught it there when you two were away.”

Alex said to me, “That’s it. This is the scorpion that bit your toe!”

He raised his foot a second time, but the owner again stopped him.

The owner said, a big smile blooming on his tanned face, “Be kind, my friend. This will make a very healthful, tasty soup tonight.”

Upon hearing the word “soup,” the two men sprang up from the sofa and dashed over to join us.

The duo exclaimed at the same time, “Scorpion soup?”

One winked to his friend. “Excellent for male potency!”

His friend echoed, “Unmatched for solidifying male essence and strengthening weak semen!”

As the discussion about the toe-biting-scorpion-soon-to-turn-male-enhancing-soup was becoming increasingly excited, Alex pulled me to him, lifted me up, and carried me back to our room.

Two days later, after I had faithfully taken my medication and rested in bed, the swelling in my toe was almost gone. Alex and I agreed that we should continue our journey. Before departing, fearing that Alex would again beat me in paying the bills (he’d already paid the hospital one, “taking advantage” of my sickness), I sneaked down to reception and settled everything while he was in the restroom. After he came back and took the luggage to the truck, we were ready to hit the road again.

Just when we were about to pull away from the hotel, the owner dashed to my side of the truck and handed me a bag.

“Buns. You’ll get hungry on the way.”

I smiled. “Thank you. But please save these for other customers. We have enough food.”

He pushed the bag hard into my hand. “Take it, miss.” Then he tilted his head in Alex’s direction while whispering into my ear, “Since you paid the bill, he paid me big tip. Nice guy.” Then he winked and hurried back to the hotel.

A few minutes into the trip, amidst the ubiquitous sand, the scorching sun, and the howling wind, I asked, “Alex, how much tip did you give him?”

“Enough. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious.” I thought for a while. “I don’t want to be nosy; do your parents give you lots of money?”

He nodded.

Thinking of the distant Frank Luce and the condescending Donna Adler, I blurted out, “But I still think they are not very nice to you.”

“It depends how you look at it. Anyway, they’re never cheap with me.”

Before I had the chance to respond, he added, “I’m grateful that they support me so well.”

I thought for a while before I said, “Instead of affection, I think your parents try to cover up their guilt and bribe you with cash. But what they should do is to give you love and more time.” I knew I shouldn’t have criticized his, or anyone’s, parents, but I just couldn’t help myself sometimes.

“Maybe. But there’s only so much you can expect from your parents. Nobody’s perfect, right?”

Now I could sense that annoyance was beginning to seep into Alex’s voice. But my inner bitch refused to be tamed. “Why are you defending them?”

“Because they are my parents. They adopted me, housed me, fed me, and raised me. I don’t think I can ask for more, since my real parents abandoned me, can I?”

I sighed inside, realizing that sometimes one doesn’t need dead parents to be an orphan. Just look at how my father abandoned me. Maybe that was why I fell so easily for men (even the stinky fishmonger!), because I needed their love so desperately since I got none from my old man. Or maybe that was why I didn’t want to commit, because men, like my father, might all end up abandoning me. Maybe the real reason Alex and I were soul mates was because we both shared this same “abandonment” complex.

I reached to touch my lover’s hand, which was gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if fearing once he let go, he’d lose everything. This must be the orphan complex, being abandoned at birth, when you possess nothing but need everything.

After a long, awkward silence, Alex asked, “You all right?”

I looked at his concerned face and felt my whole body melting. Maybe I really should marry this kid and fill his void with love and tenderness as immense as the desert and as warm as the sands, so he wouldn’t feel so needy anymore.

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

The truck roared on while we were each immersed in our own thoughts. What his were, I wondered about, but didn’t have the heart to ask, not now. How could a twenty-one-year-old seem so mysterious to me? I wanted so much to know all his secret thoughts and feelings. What had Alex suffered besides being abandoned at birth?

Wondering, I dozed off in the heat, the howling wind, and the suffocating dust until a sudden jerk startled me awake.

“Where are we?” I asked, blinking my eyes.

Alex pointed to the distance. “Look, an oasis.”

We turned to look at each other before a loud “Yeah!” exploded from our mouths as we bumped fists.

Fifty feet ahead was a huge pond surrounded by palm trees. In its clear water were reflected the sun, blue sky, white clouds, and the rhythmically swaying trees—a mini, inverted universe. I held my breath, fearing a mere exhalation would blow this paradise away. Then I snatched my camera and snapped pictures.

Alex turned to cast me a mischievous look. “We could use a bath and a drink. How’s that?”

“Can’t wait.”

“Let’s go!” he exclaimed, then restarted the engine.

Alas, in a moment the entire oasis had disappeared into thin air as if waved away by a magic—or not so magic—wand.

“Oh, my God!” we screamed simultaneously.

I asked, “What happened?”

“Are we hallucinating?” came Alex’s shocked, puzzled voice.

Moments passed before we exclaimed again simultaneously, “A mirage!” and burst out laughing.