Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

“You never asked if I’m also in love with you.”

“Are you?”

His eyes were so tender that I felt my bones dissolving. Was I in love with him? It was a question I did not want to ask myself. But I was moved by this young man’s stubborn efforts to take care of me, to… love me. And I had to admit I did like to look at his delicate face and his lean body. Any girl would be ecstatic to have his company just for the sake of vanity. Then why would he choose me, years older? Was he starving for sisterly—or motherly—affection?

I didn’t answer his question, but said, “I already have a boyfriend.”

He looked stunned for a few seconds, then, “So… are you going to marry him, this boyfriend of yours?”

I didn’t respond.

A long silence fell between us before he spoke again, this time with urgency. “He’s married with kids, isn’t he?”

Did this young man possess a third eye, or was “screwed by a married man” written like bright graffiti on my forehead?

“He said he would,” I muttered, feeling completely drained.

“Married men always say that to their mistresses so they’ll stay—in bed.”

Stung by this unwelcome yet veritable remark, my voice shot out high like a jumping frog. “Alex, why don’t you find someone your age and leave me alone?”

“I’m not interested in girls my age. They’re like dolls, and I’m not a girl.”

“Do you want me because you miss your mother?”

“Lily, I don’t care how old you are, only who you are.”

“You hardly know me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

I blurted out, “All right. I’m an adventurer and an aspiring novelist writing a coming-of-age family saga based on my own life. My parents are both dead, so I’m all by myself on this planet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You satisfied? Now tell me, what do you love in me.” My answer came out cold deliberately to cover the heat spreading inside me.

“You’re brave, beautiful, talented, and unusual.”

“How am I unusual?”

“I’ve never encountered a woman who travels by herself in a third-world country, let alone on the Silk Road, in a deserted village, and insists that she be left alone. I admire your bravery. But it’s also unbelievably stupid.”

I winced from his bluntness. “Did you just say stupid?”

“Yes! Haven’t you ever thought that a pretty young woman traveling by herself, in a third-world country, is an invitation for trouble? That’s why I’m here, to look out for you.”

Before I had a chance to respond, he threw me another question. “Why do you travel alone?”

I was not going to answer this, so I asked instead, “Alex, what makes you think you can take care of me?”

“Just trust me, would you?”

My voice, instead of keeping its cultivated cool, now came out vulnerable like a wounded kitten. “Alex, please, I don’t know….”

He stood up and moved toward me in quick strides. Then our bodies, arms, and lips entangled. But we didn’t make love. After long, convoluted kisses and caresses, I hardened my heart and asked him to leave.

“Please, Alex, now leave and leave it at that. And don’t come back to see me. I really don’t need more complications in my life.”

He stared deeply at me and let out a long sigh before he walked to the door, then closed it behind him, leaving me alone in the cottage.

My heart sank.

How did this trip turn out to be so complicated at every step? And I had just barely started to retrace my aunt’s route!

I was touched and intrigued by Alex’s gentleness and concern. Yet, why did he choose me? Should I be suspicious? But he looked too young and innocent to be contaminated by the dust and poison of this world. Besides, he couldn’t possibly know about my upcoming fortune. Anyway, I needed to focus, not to be distracted by an attractive face or tongue-entangling, soul-losing kisses.

That night I dreamed that Alex and I were husband and wife, living in the desert where we were left alone by the civilized world. We hunted wild animals, climbed mountains to gather herbs, watched the constellations circle above us, and made passionate love on the warm sand. While my moans were echoed by the nearby dunes, my tanned, naked body rose and fell to the rhythm of the shifting sands and his thrusting torso. Peering over my lover’s shoulder, I saw the dazzling sun, trying to melt our two writhing bodies into one.

One day, when we were very old, we died making love under the moonlight. Ten years later our bodies—preserved by the dry climate and still in the “banquet-from-the-backyard” beneficial position—were discovered by an explorer monk….

The next day, to distract myself from Alex, I decided to call Chris Adams. Keku’s husband gave me a ride to the next village, where international phone calls could be made at a post office.

The connection went through after the fifth ring. A happy surprise!

“Chris?”

“Lily? Why didn’t you call earlier? I’ve been worried about you!” My former professor’s irritated voice rolled toward me from eight thousand miles away. “Where are you now?”

I apologized for not calling earlier, then told him I was now living at a cottage in a small oasis village at the desert’s entrance.

“I decided to live here for a while to have a sense of the place.”

“So you’re really going to settle down on the Silk Road? Then what about me?”

“Chris, don’t be childish; you have your family and I my desert. Anyway, I’ll be back before you know it.”

He again asked the purpose of my trip, but as before, I was evasive. So the conversation went round and round like a cat chasing its tail. Finally I changed the subject to ask about Jenny and Preston, then told him there was no way he could contact me since I didn’t have a phone.

“Then what if you’re in trouble, or sick?”

“Don’t worry, Chris, I’ll take good care of myself. Besides, I’m sure the very nice Uyghur people here will provide help when needed.”

“All right, then take very good care of yourself and call me more often. I love you.”

“Me too,” I said, my declaration sounding unconvincing even to my own ears.

Outside the post office, I walked around to clear my mind and calm my nerves, then went inside a store to do some shopping, and after that hired a donkey cart home.

Back inside my cottage, I vigorously plunged myself into cleaning so I didn’t have to think about Chris and the disturbing phone call. Not long after, feeling exhausted, I put on a Xinjiang music tape and turned up the boom box’s volume. Gradually, the cheerful, rhythmic folk tunes began to soothe my nerves and energize me. I picked up a book and tried to read, but the music was so therapeutic that I closed my eyes instead and let the tunes be both host and guest in my cottage and my mind.

I didn’t know how long I’d been soaking myself in the winelike music when frantic knockings on the door woke me from my dreamlike state. Was it Keku for a chat, or a neighbor to borrow condiments? I hurried to the door.

“Keku?”

I swung open the door and saw the face that had been forcefully pushed out of my mind, yet equally missed.

“Lily, please let me in.”

“Alex, how come you’re still here?”

“Sorry, it’s too cold camping out there tonight, so can I stay with you for just a short while before I find a place?” he said, tightening the jacket around his chest with his trembling hands.

“Of course you can.” I let him in, then closed the door.

“Trust me, Lily”—Alex put down his heavy backpack on the floor—“I won’t… disturb you.”

I almost chuckled at his boyish seriousness, but I kept my cool, even if only on the surface. “Alex, it’s bitter cold out there and I’m not a monster. Stay as long as you want.”

I immediately regretted what I’d said, realizing what this might possibly lead to. I really shouldn’t betray Chris, and so fast! But could I refuse a young man who might freeze to death in a ghost-infested graveyard into my home?

Studying his face, I envisioned what would soon happen as sadness rose inside me.

I snatched my blanket and threw it to him. “Take a seat and wrap this around you. I’ll fix tea.”

I turned down the boom box’s volume, poured water in a pot, and placed it on the gas stove, then started a fire.

Alex’s voice sneaked its way into my ears. “Lily, I really like your place. I’ve never seen something so cozy and beautiful in a desert.”

“Thanks. You’ve been to many houses in the desert?” I cast him a sidelong glance. His face, looking so happy and sad at the same time, tugged at my heart.

When the water was boiling, I dropped in a tea bag, let it brew for a minute, then handed it to my first desert visitor, or intruder, together with a piece of bread with jam.

Alex started to eat and drink ravenously. Poor thing, he must be starving. The bread was a two-day-old leftover, but he ate it with as much relish as if it were a freshly baked French baguette.

“Alex, there’s more food if you want. I just stocked up from the market today.”

“Tell me what you have, and I can cook you a nice meal.” His face rose from the steaming cup, now looking refreshed and spirited.

“Can you cook, too?” The “too,” of course, referred to Chris. I was sure he already understood, this smart kid.

“Of course. I’ve been cooking and taking care of myself since I was ten. What do you have?”

“Salted meat, sausage, herbs, potatoes, onions, canned fish, packaged soup…”