“I figured you won’t be driving anytime soon, but it might help with inspiration,” Tish said as she her eyes skidded from Phoenix’s bandaged arm to his injured leg hanging down from the seat of the wheelchair.
“This is me looking better,” he promised, wanting to wipe the look of horror from her face and his memory.
She mechanically took the dozen steps from the room’s doorway towards him. “Maybe I should just put these down.” She placed the bouquet and magazine on his bedside table.
Orchids, really? Like I need a reminder.
He was relieved that at least she figured out not to give him anything, which would leave him with no hand for wheeling the chair.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, perched in the blue vinyl seat, finally eye level with him.
“From the expression on your face, not as bad as I must look,” he replied, feeling as pained as she appeared.
“To the contrary,” she denied. “You look . . . fit.”
He knew what her expression meant. No sane woman would ever look at him the same again. Eligible bachelor no more. Catch no more. Player no more. Dreams, vanished. He swallowed past the ache crushing his chest.
“Thanks,” he said, then turned the conversation to her. “So, how’s Tom?”
“He’s good. I think he’s excited.” She pulled up photos from her smartphone, showing pictures from their engagement party, then shared their choice of venues and details about her wedding dress.
There was no getting around it. While his life had taken a dive from which there was no recovery, others’ lives would progress.
“I’m happy for you, Tish.”
“Thanks. But I mean, it doesn’t seem so important now, with everything you’re going through.”
“Don’t be silly. Life goes on. That’s the one thing I’ve learned. Hell, they even have a phrase for it—my ‘new normal.’ And next year in the spring, you’ll walk down the aisle and you and Tom will have a new normal.”
Spouting other people’s crap didn’t sound any better coming from him.
“In any event, I hate this is happening. Is there anything you need?”
“Nothing you can offer,” he replied, squeezing his eyes as the corners of her mouth headed south.
“I’ll tell you what. When you’re out of here, we’ll do something fun.”
Fun? The concept sounded foreign.
CHAPTER 17
THERE’S NO HOME FOR YOU HERE
Orchid
Orchid’s most surprising experience in Beijing was looking Asian but not being treated as a Chinese citizen. Lips loosened with wine, she confessed her confusion to her R&D colleague over dinner.
“We can see you are not Chinese from blocks away,” Orchid’s friend, Star, confirmed.
“Because I’m only half Chinese?” Orchid sputtered, thinking how her mother’s genes had graced her with nearly black hair and deeply brown eyes.
“No,” Star laughed correcting her. “Because of your dress. Your hair,toufa. Your mannerisms give you away like a schoolgirl.”
Orchid looked down at the pleather edging her miniskirt.
“Very funny, Star. But you know what’s unfair? In the US, people don’t think I look American enough. In China, people don’t think I’m Chinese enough. Guess I don’t fit in anywhere.”
“You are pretty like Chinese and western like American.”
