Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

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.

“Wow! I can’t believe I actually witnessed one!” I screamed.

Alex went on to explain eagerly, as if I were his student and he the professor, “Lily, a mirage is caused by the desert heat and its effect on the light, which creates the optical illusion we’ve just seen. Fascinating, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but also disappointing.”

Alex gave my leg a gentle squeeze. “Sorry, Lily.”

“No need to apologize. After all, we had the thrill of encountering a mirage, a real one!” But, I wondered, can a mirage be fake?

“Actually, I am enjoying this. Lily, thanks for inviting me to come with you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, but swallowed the following phrase: But please don’t ask me why I’m here in this Go-In-but-Never-Come-Out hell of a place.

About four o’clock we saw some towering boulders, this time real ones. Alex suggested we take a break and let the truck cool off. After he parked in the shade of one of the huge rocks, we stepped out, relieved ourselves, then drank and snacked on the hotelkeeper’s buns. Then Alex suggested we should get up to walk around a bit and stretch our legs.

As we wandered through the rocks we sighted, to our surprise, another stretch of water about twenty feet in front of us. Please, I thought, let this not be another mirage!

We held our breath till we were a few yards from the water before we both let out a long exhalation of relief.

Alex exclaimed, “Yes!”

Before I had a chance to ask, “Should we dip in?” he already dashed across the sand toward the pond, flailing arms and legs.

Then, to my utter shock and surprise, a scream—not that of pleasure, but unspeakable fear—exploded from his mouth.