Petals from the Sky. Mingmei Yip

      He found a small hill overlooking the sea, but hidden from the beach by thickets of trees, plants, and exotic flowers.

      “Perfect for our decadent talk,” he said, while spreading out a cloth and arranging the food.

      We sat side by side and quietly ate our sandwiches, sipped mineral water, and nibbled apples while feeling our bodies touch each other, watched silently by the moon. In the distance the sea roared, sending white-capped waves to break on the shore. Faint snatches of Cantonese opera tunes carried from the village. I saw the silhouette of a young couple holding tightly onto one another as if fearing even the slightest breeze would blow them apart. Were they walking before love, or after? Not far away, a young man arched his back to hurl something into the sea. A wish to be picked up? Or a hurt to be washed away?

      We finished eating and I hugged my knees, listening to the cicadas’ small, persistent call until I felt my whole body ache with a longing I’d never known. Then suddenly I realized my dress had slid up to reveal my thighs, which glowed pearlescent under the moonlight. I quickly pulled my dress down, then took several deep breaths, taking in the fragrance of the vegetation, all the while conscious of Michael’s intent eyes. Our hips touched. I peeked at his legs, warm and tanned, outstretched as if waiting to be caressed. I noticed their golden hairs glimmering faintly in the moonlight and resisted the urge to touch. I closed my eyes, aware of his body and its pleasant fragrance of mint and the sea.

      Michael slowly turned my face toward his, cupped my chin with his hands, and began to search my lips with his. After a long time, he opened my mouth with his tongue, which began to indulge itself in all sorts of decadent pleasures. His hands, large, warm, and eager, moved under my blouse, then my bra. Feeling a rush of desire, I clutched his strong torso.

      I felt small under him. Behind him the big, round moon glistened like an enlarged pearl. A star drifted close by. Like me, she wouldn’t feel lonely tonight. I held Michael tighter.

      My knees weakened and my heart thrashed like a trapped bird. I felt caught and free, wretched and blissful all at once. Until somehow my awareness lifted. In this game between a man and a woman, I suddenly glimpsed the jeweled flowers of the Western Paradise and felt oddly at home. The sea droned in the distance, echoing Michael’s breathing. I imagined other lovers also exploring and enjoying each other somewhere on the island, under the watch of the same moon.

      And then I covered my face and wiped away a tear. I did like men. I was also upset that Michael, now holding me in his arms and caressing my damp hair, remained so calm and silent. It frightened me that this man seemed gentler than I, yet stronger; that so close to me, he seemed so distant; that he was so kind, and yet so unknown. Let-Go-and-Be-Carefree, his face now serene under the moonlight, was the only man I’d ever let into my life. Suddenly I wondered about his life. What other women had he kissed? Whose sighs had he heard? Whose breasts had he caressed? His hands were large, with fingers as expressive as if they were able to breathe. Men’s hands had seemed monstrous and belligerent to me before, but his held comfort and gentleness.

      I went home late that evening, feeling dazed. Mother came up to sniff at me. “Ah, Meng Ning, I don’t smell alcohol, but you look drunk. Is something wrong?”

      “No, Ma, I’m fine.” I headed straight to my bedroom.

      Mother muttered as I was closing the door. “Oh yes,” she said emphatically, “it’s a man I smell!”

      I locked the door and didn’t turn on the light; I had no heart to keep the moon out. Then I went to the mirror, took off all my clothes, and looked at my naked reflection under the moonlight. I stared at the thirty-year-old body that until tonight had never been so touched, nor so aroused. I searched the still-smooth face, narrow shoulders, small breasts, flat stomach, spindly legs, and the small area of black hair that, in the past, I had avoided looking at. But tonight I reached my hand to touch…

      Slowly, like a cat, I felt my way into bed and inhaled deeply at the silky texture of the sheets against my naked body. I ran my hand over my breasts, remembering Michael’s warm, luxurious touch. While my body was serene in the darkness, disturbing memories weaved a confusing tapestry: images of the powerful Yi Kong, of the scarred nun at the retreat, my ex-nun friend Dai Nam, No Name and her fiancé, my father and my mother’s ruined life….

      At three in the afternoon I awakened with a terrible headache. Mother slammed down a steaming bowl of chicken rice soup. “Some gweilo called early this morning, so I said wrong number!”

      I burned my tongue on the hot liquid. “Ma, why didn’t you wake me up? Maybe it was for me!”

      Mother snapped, “Then why did you lock your door when you slept?”