July 2nd

I watched as she unloaded the canvas bag she carried, laying our dinner ingredients out before her.

“Let me pay for something,” I said as she placed a bunch of deep purple grapes on the counter.

“No way.” She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “Drew. Really.”

Something twisted inside me over how beautiful she was. Smooth skin, toned, sunkissed. “Nora, you've cooked dinner for me twenty nights in a row. Please, let me pay you for it.” I pleaded with my eyes, willing her to understand how much I wanted to do this, how much her simple kindness meant to me. Feeding me was more than just sustaining my energy and health; with her it was also becoming what it represented—her care and nurturing, the sharing of ourselves.

I was used to caring and being cared for in return. In the villages I visited, I helped those that couldn't help themselves; I gave my time and energy willingly and my patients generally accepted it. In return, the women in the fields took care of me. They thanked me with food and meals from their own land and tables. I accepted it with gratitude.

This was different. What did I give to Nora? What did she receive from our time together?

“Cooking for two is easier than cooking for one,” she explained simply, folding her bag and moving it to the opposite counter. “I miss having someone to cook for.”

And with that, the conversation of money and debt was over. She moved around me with ease, returning to her task of sorting and unwrapping, her expression clear of all but the easy smile I had grown so attached to.

Her hands paused and she turned to me, lips turned with slight worry. “You have a grill, don't you?”

“A grill? Yeah, sure, it's right out here.” I led her through my small kitchen to the back porch, motioning to a forgotten charcoal grill that sat just off the landing. “It's not much,” I admitted, shrugging and rubbing the back of my neck. “I don't really use it.” When she smirked up at me, I added, “I mean, obviously.”

She brushed past me and lifted the lid carefully, peering into the cobweb-filled base.

“It's perfect.”

Her eyes moved around the small yard as if looking for something.

“Can you clean out all the spider webs and I'll run across the street for some briquettes?”

“Yes, ma'am,” I answered, happy to have something to do. Lately, watching her cook drove me insane. It took nearly all of my energy to not follow her around the kitchen with my hands wrapped around her hips.

“Be right back.”

I watched her retreating form move to the door and disappear from my view. My eyes lingered on her long, tanned legs.

By the time she returned, another canvas bag in hand, the grill was cleaned and waiting. I smiled as I listened to the screen door open and close. I enjoyed the ease with which she moved around my home. I met her at the bottom of the stairs, taking the bag from her arms.

“You bring any more stuff over and we might as well put a toothbrush for you in the bathroom.”

She smiled and broke eye contact as her cheeks reddened.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I have sort of taken over your kitchen lately, haven't I?”

“Nora,” I said, turning her to face me and tilting her chin upward. “I was teasing you. I love seeing your flowery girl bowls in my dishwasher.”

She smacked my arm and handed me the bag of charcoal. “Okay manly-man. Make the woman a fire.”

We sat together on the rough wooden steps, wine in hand. Her hip was close to mine; I felt the heat of her even through the late afternoon sun. The tuna steaks she'd brought for dinner were marinating in the refrigerator, and we watched the coals turn from black to grey to almost white.

“Just about there,” she whispered, her eyes moving from the smoldering briquettes to my pathetic—but clean—yard. “You've really done a lot here.” She turned to me with a pleased smile on her face. “You care. It shows.”

“I've cleaned up,” I said, trying to see it the way she would. “The last occupants really let it go.”

She nodded in agreement and continued to take in the bare space.

I couldn't help but feel almost inadequate as I considered the differences between my imagined idea of her yard and my own. My respect for her grew as I considered the time and effort it must take for a woman living on her own to maintain everything.

“A Little Crazy Neighbor Girl . . .” I started, keeping my eyes trained on my wine glass. “I really enjoy our dinners.”

I’m completely crazy for you, I didn’t say.

She nodded and took another sip of wine. The sun glinted off the crystal stem of her glass and the red and gold highlights in her hair. I'd never really noticed them before; they were like flames. I suddenly understood the thousands of metaphors about being consumed by fire, and each one fit.

“So do I.” But then she laughed softly and I waited for her to say more. “It's been nice actually,” she began, moving a small pebble across the cracked cement with the toe of her shoe. “I miss these things, the small things.”

I took in the tone of her voice; removed and soft. I wondered what other things she missed.

“You mean cooking for someone?” I asked.

“Sure.” She nodded. “Or maybe just the company. The ex and I were . . . good. That's the only way I can explain it. But we weren't great.”

It was my turn to nod, understanding what she meant, to find enjoyment with a person but not feel like you belonged to each other.

“It's the silly things I miss,” she began with a shake of her head. “Having someone else around to mow the lawn, get something heavy off the shelf . . .” She smiled and I nudged her slightly to continue with the almost caressing sound of her voice.

“It would be nice to have companionship . . .” She trailed off before licking her lips and arching an eyebrow. “But I can manage certain things on my own.”

The blush faded and she took a long draw from her glass. My skin felt too hot, my hands too empty.

“Can you now?” I teased.

“Definitely.” Her lips curved into a devious smile before she turned away, but I saw it.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing more about that.”

Nora looked up at me, studying. “I think that would be trouble.”

“Yeah?” Only then did I realize how close we were, how I only had to lean slightly and I could kiss her.

“Yeah,” she whispered, smiling a mysterious little smile. “I think I'll get the fish.” She stood, retreating into the house and returning moments later with a large platter filled with tuna steaks and sliced vegetables.

The fish hissed and sizzled as she placed it along the heated metal rack, the rich smell of smoke and sesame evoking memories of so many dinners past — dinners that were less intimate, less grounded, less . . . everything.

I didn't want to think of them tonight.

Dinner cooked quickly and we found ourselves once again sitting across from each other at my battered coffee table. I took a large bite, my eyes closing at the way the fish melted in my mouth. I hummed to myself as I chewed, unsurprised to look up and find her watching me.

“How many tattoos do you have?” she asked, her eyes moving along my arms and shoulders and across my neck.

I finished chewing as I contemplated my answer, unable to look away from her silent appraisal of my body.

“A lot,” I answered with a smile. Her eyes lifted to me almost in surprise, as if she'd been so lost in her thoughts she'd forgotten the question she'd asked.

“That's not very forthcoming,” she chided, reminding me of a previous conversation. She'd asked why I didn't want her to know me. I'd been stunned, so lost in my own routine it had never occurred to me that she would want to know me in that way.

I nodded in silent understanding. “I had more to begin with. I added to them until they melted into one another. So in answer, I have fewer now, they just cover more of my skin.”

She put a snow pea in her mouth, chewing as she mulled over my response. Her tongue reached out to lick a drop of sauce from the end of her chopstick.

I had to look away.

“How many piercings?”

“Six,” I answered, taking a long drink of my wine. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Six,” she said softly, more to herself than as a response to me.

Her voice was quiet, her eyes shifting as if trying to account for the piercings she could see — and the one she couldn't. I dipped my head to take another bite in an attempt to hide my smile.

Moving slightly, she stretched her leg out along the edge of the table, her bare foot coming to rest against my outer thigh. My hand burned to reach out and touch the smooth skin.

“You're not like you seem.”

I met her eyes across the table. “What do you mean?”

“On the outside. You're nothing like you seem on the outside.”

I smiled widely then. “Neither are you,” I said pointedly, thinking back to that hidden piece of herself she'd shown me.

She held my gaze, a knowing smile lifting the corners of her pink lips. “I know.”

挂念

August 23rd

 All he could feel were calloused hands and humidity. The air was full of the odd, constant hum of complete silence.

This village was so quiet. Where was the urgency Drew had come here expecting to serve? Where was the chaos?

“Tommy needed me here,” Drew mumbled, explaining to the air why he was thousands of miles away from his Nora. “It's not just the masses that matter, it's the few you need.”

“Drink now.”

Water was poured carefully down his throat. He struggled to sit, to hold the bottle himself, but his hands shook violently. Water spilled across his neck, his chest.

“Don't move so much. You're such a busy man. Why do you always have to be so busy?”

Warm broth followed, poured from a bowl pressed gently to his lips.

He coughed, weakly pushing it away. “Don't want any.”

“Shh,” Ah Lin's voice calmed him. “You need more than water.”

He slept most of the time. Drew didn't know how many cycles of light and dark moved through the room and over him. The sun came and went, leaving a relieving swath of darkness and cool air when it departed. Nighttime was harder inside his head—it was when Nora visited, when he could almost convince himself that she was there, stretched out alongside him, but he would reach for nothing but air. But nighttime was also more comfortable against his skin.

“You make me want to stay here.” The words were spoken in English and they sounded like they came from his own mouth.

“Quiet. Keep your strength, Xiao huo tou.”

“I don't know how to let someone like you in the way I want,” he explained quietly, pleading behind closed eyes. “I'm going to China.”

“Sleep now.”

挂念

“...Neighbor Girl...”

挂念

“...banana legs...”

挂念

“...I love seeing your flowery girl bowls...”

挂念

“...not like you seem...”

挂念

August 25th

Drew heard voices outside for the first time in days as he woke up, damp and disoriented. The room shifted and swam until he closed his eyes.

“Come in, A Little Crazy Neighbor Girl,” he said, laughing messily at his private joke.

Tommy's voice and Ah Lin's and then a quiet gasp, a sob, and some shuffling back through the door and outside. Everything became too quiet for him to hear. Drew fell back asleep.

挂念

Footsteps entered the room and Drew didn't bother to open his eyes. The air was heavy and soothing. He heard shuffling and the clanking sound of a pot on the small stove. A hand lifted his head and he drank. The broth in his delirium tasted like Nora to him; in his fantasy he could sense the elusive signature of her cooking.

Hands on his face, again, but softer now and Drew wondered how long his stubble must be to cut through the texture of sweet Ah Lin's abused fingertips.

“I'm scruffy,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, I—”

“You’re perfect,” Nora whispered in his dream.

挂念

August 26th

The sunlight bleached everything in the room and Drew pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes, bringing back the easy darkness for a moment.

The house was quiet. He was alone.

Drew inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, waiting for the room to spin. It didn't. He sat up, slowly.

The house was tidy, and he swallowed heavily at the familiar smell of her still in his head. The vivid dreams were turning to vapor too quickly, but somehow, this time, her smell stayed with him. Drew shifted so that he sat at the edge of the bed and leaned his head into his hands.

The stillness and quiet of the room was pierced with a shriek from outside and he jumped up before bending over against the table to steady himself.

The shriek hadn’t been Ah Lin.

Images rushed through his head: soft brown eyes, smooth fingers, a broth that tasted like home to him. Hushed whispers and promises during the night.

Nora?

He stumbled outside to the shower and his legs nearly buckled under him as he stood frozen, watching her bend to pick up a tin of soap. Drew blinked hard and staggered slightly from the forced movement, but she was still there.

He turned and stared back at the main house and tried to remember the contents of the table next to the bed he had occupied for days. There had been nothing there that would make him hallucinate, nothing there to indicate he had been suffering anything other than delirium from fever.

He turned back to the doorway of the small bathroom outside. She was still there, her back still facing him. Her hand dragged a soapy cloth down her side and suds ran from her naked back, down her hip to her thigh and curled around her knee.

“No,” Drew whispered, not believing what he saw, and terrified that his instinct to believe that it was all in his head was the right one.

“Holy shit!” Nora yelped, whipping around and covering her breasts instinctively. She gaped at him and Drew felt his chest heaving, violently. He bent, gripping the side of the door.

“Drew?” she whispered, dropping her arms. “Baby, are you okay?” She looked behind him almost as if she expected to see Ah Lin following him with a cup of broth and some herbs.

Drew nodded, numb. She was so beautiful. She was here. She was still his.

She lowered her arms and held them out to him, beckoning. His heart swelled, took off at a frantic gallop when she did this and his tears began falling, propelled by the wracking sobs of his chest. She was naked, but Drew was the one standing still, completely bare for her.

“Shh, sweetie. Come here,” she said, nodding and curling her hand to him. “I can't believe you're up.”

He couldn't move. Not because he didn't want to go to her—he wanted nothing more than to feel her skin, to smell her hair, to just fucking kiss her with abandon and tell her he loved her—but because he was afraid if he moved she would disappear.

“What...” he began, shaking his head slightly and wiping his face. “How?”

She licked her lips and, given his hesitation and delay, seemed to wonder whether she should cover herself. She reached for a towel slung over the side of the small stall.

“Don't,” he said, too loudly—so loudly she startled slightly and his voice cracked on the single syllable. It was hoarse from misuse but he rasped, “God, please Nora, don't.” Drew felt as though he may lose his mind if she covered herself, if he lost any part of the vision of her in front of him.

She dropped her hand and smiled. Her eyes crinkled and Drew moved toward her then, completely unable to stop himself.

He practically fell against her but she was close enough to the wall that his momentum simply pressed her against the stone of the small shower. Drew heard her sob and her arms flew around his shoulders. He completely lost it then, heaving in his relief and gripping her as tightly as he could.

Her hands. Her voice. Her smell. It was all real.

The water seeped through his clothes and made him shiver but Drew ushered every ounce of strength he had to keep her from letting go of him.

She was here. She didn't disappear.

“I found you,” she whispered, running her hands over his shoulders.

找到

Nora’s hands smoothed over his back until he stilled. Drew was several inches taller than she was, but she held him firmly, slowly shifting how they stood until he leaned against the stone.

“You should lie down.”

He shook his head. “I can't leave you.”

“I'm almost done,” she said with a little smile. “Do you want a bath too? Can you stand for a few minutes?”

He nodded.

Her fingers slipped gently under his shirt and then tugged, urging him with an expectant lift of her eyebrows to raise his arms as she pulled it over his head. She untied his pants and pushed them down his hips, her eyes never leaving his.

“Are you cold?”

Again, he simply nodded.

“Here,” she said, bringing a cloth to his chest. “The water was really hot. It's probably okay now.”

Nora took a cup and poured some down his chest, looking at his face to make sure he was okay. Another cup went down his back. She carefully tilted Drew’s chin up and poured a cup over his head and through his hair.

And just like this, with gentle, familiar fingers that had fed him so many nights, Nora bathed him. On her tiptoes she washed his hair, and on her knees she washed his legs.

Her hair was wet and smoothed back and away from her face. Drew had forgotten how far down her back it reached.

Her neck was so much longer than his memory told him. Long and smooth, tensing as she reached behind his thighs.

Her ears were small and unpierced. Drew had never really studied them before. Her lips were fuller, slightly chapped. He imagined her biting them continually as she watched Drew come in and out of fever.

Her collarbones seemed sharper—had she lost weight? Her hands were exactly how he remembered them, but her shoulders were stronger.

Only when he realized how much he had missed in describing her for Ah-Lin’s drawing did he truly believe she was here. His imagination could not have come up with her exactly like this in front of him. Something shifted inside him, a relief so profound it managed to dislodge a brutal splinter in his chest.

“I love you.” His voice broke and the last word stuck in his throat.

She looked up and her face crumpled at the words. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck.

[more soon!]