Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

But he said nothing. The photographer checked his throat and heartbeat. Then he pushed hard on Alex’s chest till water poured from his mouth. As I was despairing, finally Alex began to cough and tried to sit up.

After long moments, Alex spoke, his face grimaced with pain. “My head….”

The photographer carefully examined his head, then pressed a towel on it to stop the bleeding. He turned to me. “I believe when your friend dived, his head hit a rock. We need to get him to the hospital to see if he has a concussion. He also needs a few stitches.”

“Oh, my God….”

As if this was not bad enough, he added, “He may become hypothermic.”

“What’s that?”

“His body temperature may drop too low from being in the cold water.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a doctor.”

I lowered my voice in case Alex could hear. “Is his life in danger?”

He whispered back, “I don’t think so. But I’m afraid only an X-ray can tell for certain. Miss, you stay here to look after your friend and keep pressing the towel against the cut. I’ll go get help and be right back.”

Before I finished saying, “Thank you so much,” he’d already left.

I turned to Alex. “Alex, talk to me. How do you feel now?”

Eyes closed, he didn’t respond.

My heart flopped like a fish on land struggling for air. “Alex?”

While I saw blood slowly seeping through the white towel and staining my hand, I felt my heart slowly sink like Lop Nor and his family to the bottom of the pond.

I looked up to the sky and silently prayed to God. “Please protect Alex from anything bad and direct the ambulance here quickly.”

I kept praying and pressing my hand on Alex’s head until my ears were pierced by the sound of wailing sirens. A police car and an ambulance screeched to a stop a few feet from us. Two policemen and two uniformed men jumped down from the vehicles, followed by the photographer. A policeman started to ask me questions while the two ambulance men knelt beside Alex. They quickly wrapped a bandage around his head, then struggled to lift him onto the flimsy canvas stretcher.

Before I could utter a word of comfort, Alex slowly opened his eyes and mumbled, “Sorry, Lily.”

I was relieved beyond words. I replied softly, “About what?”

“The necklace. But my head and my leg…”

I put my finger on his lips. “Shhh… nothing is more important in my life than you….”

“Is that true?”

It melted my heart that he looked so happy despite his injury and pain.

Before I could respond, Alex was being lifted into the ambulance. The photographer and I pushed in after him. With a jerk, the vehicle started forward, the driver beeping its horn furiously.

Finally we pulled to an abrupt halt in front of a gray building. The ambulance men lifted Alex onto a stretcher and hurried inside the hospital where two paramedics rushed him into what I took to be the emergency room. Blood-soaked rags littered the floor. Since we were not his relatives, the photographer and I were made to wait outside, so we sat together on a hard bench in the lobby.

He threw down an “I’ll be right back” look and hurried away.

I began to ardently recite the Lord’s Prayer and the Nammo Amita Fo. First the sinking sand and now this, in less than a week, and all my fault! I tried to gather my scattered spirits and convince myself that what I needed at this critical moment was to focus, not indulge in guilt.

Then suddenly Master Soaring Crane’s saying popped in my mind:

Your lovers are mutually destructive with the element of water. It’s their fate.

I should have heeded the master’s warning and shouldn’t have asked Alex to go to the pond with me!

I kept praying and reciting till I gradually felt myself calming down. I also became aware for the first time of the other people waiting in the lobby—a mother cooing to her crying, tomato-faced baby; a young man sitting on a bench and falling asleep, his head nodding like a fishing rod; a sixtyish man walking cautiously, his hand holding a bag of urine dangling from his waist. The whole place stank of a mixture of medicine, human sweat, and death, its stale air punctured by wailing patients, shouting nurses, crying children.

As I was watching, the photographer’s voice rose next to my ear. “This is for you.”

He was handing me a cup of hot tea.

“Thanks.”

I took a tentative sip as I studied the stranger’s face. He looked to be around forty, solidly built, broad faced, thick necked with a confident manner. I thanked him for saving Alex’s life.

“Don’t mention it. Somebody had to help.”

“I didn’t even have a chance to ask your name.”

“Akira Muramachi.”

“Japanese?”

He nodded.

“I’m Lily Lin, Chinese…. What do you think? Will he be all right?”

Just then I was startled by a tap on my shoulder.

It was a doctor in a wrinkled white coat. “Miss, you’re the foreigner’s friend?”

“Yes, is he OK?” My heart began its ascending roller coaster ride.

He put on a grave expression. “This is very serious, but there is no danger to his life.”

The ride now swiftly descended to level ground as I deeply exhaled. The Japanese photographer gave me a comforting pat on my shoulder.

The doctor pushed up his thick glasses on his flat nose and for some reason gave me a chiding look. “Your friend has fifteen stitches on his scalp but nothing serious, just surface injuries, and luckily he didn’t have a skull fracture. However, he was chilled by the cold water and might get pneumonia. He’s been coughing a lot, so we have to keep him here overnight.”

“Can I see him now?”

“Yes, but he’s asleep, so no talking.”

“I understand, doctor. Thank you very much.”

“You have to inform his parents or relatives very soon.”

“Yes, doctor, I will, and thanks again.”

After the doctor walked away, I asked the Japanese, “Since you’re also a doctor, would you mind coming with me?”

“Of course not.”

Inside the hospital room, there were four beds. Three were empty but unmade with dirty sheets. The Japanese doctor and I went up to Alex and quietly sat down beside him. Seeing that he was asleep, I gently laid my hand on his shoulder, saddened by his sudden smallness and vulnerability. I blinked back tears and let the Japanese doctor check on him.

When he finished, I asked, “He’s all right?”

“I think so.”

“You can’t be sure?”

“Since there’s not much equipment here, I have to go by examining him. The doctor said no skull fracture so they must have done an X-ray. I will try to have a look at it.” He paused to cast Alex another look, then, “I’ll leave you two alone while I try to find the X-ray. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

Alex was still asleep, so I planted a kiss on his forehead and quietly left the room. In the hallway I paced restlessly waiting for the Japanese doctor to return. Finally, he reappeared, smiling as he walked down the hall toward me.

“Don’t worry, Miss Lin.” He patted my hand. “The skull films look fine. I am sure your friend will be all right.”

“Please just call me Lily, and thank you….” I tried but failed to recall his name.

He smiled. “Akira Muramachi.”

“Thank you again. I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Dr. Muramachi.”

“Akira, please.”

I tried to come up with some appropriate conversation. “So, Akira, you’re also a photographer?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you from?”

“I’m now practicing in Tokyo, but I trained in Boston.”

“That’s why you speak English so well.”

“So the young man is your…”

“My boyfriend Alex.”

He glanced at his watch. “All right, I better leave. I’m going to get a taxi to go back to my hotel. Can I give you a lift?”

“No, but thanks. I want to stay here to keep Alex company in case he wakes up.”

“Of course, but where are you going to sleep?”

“I don’t think I can sleep, anyway.”

“All right then,” he said, then took out a card, wrote something down, and handed it to me. “Here’s my hotel’s phone and my room number. In case you need me for anything. Please don’t hesitate to call. I also want your friend to recover, so I am more than happy to help.”

“I will, and thank you so much, Akira.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll come back here tomorrow morning to check on him.”

“It’s very kind of you, Akira, but you really don’t have to…”

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled, picked up his camera bag, and walked toward the exit.

I read his card. Akira Muramachi, MD. Neurosurgeon, Tokyo University Hospital.

I made a mental addition: And a Japanese angel in white.

Now feeling more hopeful, I stood up and went to check on Alex. Seeing that he was still sound asleep, I left the room and walked to the nurses’ station where two young women, one kind faced and the other plump and sour looking, were busy talking and shifting charts.

I went up to Kind Face. “Miss nurse, can you tell me where I can use a phone?”

She pointed to a dilapidated booth by the entrance.

“I need to call international.”

“International?” Both women stared at me as if I were an alien.

“Yes, to the United States.”

“United States?” Now the two cast each other surprised looks.

Then Kind Face asked, “But why you want to call so far away?”

Plump watched me curiously.

I pointed to Alex’s room. “I need to call his parents to tell them about their son.”

Plump leaned over. “But his bill has already been taken care of.”

“No, that’s not possible. I didn’t even know I had to pay first.”

Kind Face smiled. “Not you, your boyfriend.”

“How could he have paid? He’s injured and has been sleeping the whole time!”

The nursing duo exchanged puzzled glances.

Plump looked at me with an incredulous expression. “You mean that injured American your boyfriend? We thought he’s your student, learn Chinese with you. Ha!”

I snapped, “Don’t I have the right to have a young boyfriend?”

She chuckled. “Miss, this is China.”

What the hell did that mean? But I asked, “Who paid then?”

“The one just left. Paid a lot. Three hundred renminbi!”

Akira Muramachi paid? How odd.

“When did he do that?”

“When you were inside the hospital room with your boyfriend,” Kind Face chimed in. “Miss, we just think that a Chinese is more suitable for you.”

I corrected her. “That one is Japanese.”

Plump said, “Why is he not your boyfriend?”

What a question.

“He’s not even a friend, just a stranger.”

“A Japanese paid three hundred renminbi for an American, or a Chinese, he doesn’t even know?” Plump said, then widened her eyes while covering her mouth to feign surprise. “Maybe not really Japanese.”

Now it was Kind Face’s turn to comment. “You know, Japanese liked to kill Chinese. My great-grandfather was murdered by Japanese soldiers during the Nanjing Massacre.”

Plump sent her comrade a chiding look, chuckling. “Hey, there are good Japanese, too, especially those who feel guilty of what their ancestors did. Such as this one. Paying three hundred renminbi for a stranger, an American. Wah!”

A surge of respect rose inside me, not only that Akira had saved Alex’s life but also that he paid for the hospital fees, even though it was only forty U.S. dollars. It was not the amount but the care and consideration that touched me.

I put on a smile for the two nurses. “Miss nurses, please, I really need to make this important phone call.”

Plump cut me off. “Miss, when my uncle got married, he and his brother had to ride a donkey and a motorbike to deliver the invitation cards fifteen days earlier.”

“Sorry about your uncles’ inconvenience, but can I borrow a phone card from either of you? Of course I’ll pay you back…. double. How’s that?” I pleaded.

Kind Face blurted out, “Sorry, we don’t have one. We never call long distance here.”

Plump winked and nudged her colleague’s shoulder, then smiled flirtatiously at me. “Actually I do have one.”