I rode in silence in the backseat of the Hong Kong taxi that took me home. The neon lights that usually filled me with awe and delight now only looked foreign and unrecognizable.
It was very difficult for me to decline her offer to come back to her place. I told her that I needed some time to think about what she had told me. While at first she appeared silently disappointed, I also had the feeling that I had secretly pleased her. She asked for my phone. I hesitated just a moment before handing it to her. A remnant feeling from a different time when there were secrets things hidden there.
She of course noticed my hesitation and softly said "It's okay, I just want to give you my contact information. You use Wechat?"
My cheeks reddened as I unlocked the phone and handed it to her. She scanned my Wechat I.D. into her phone and handed the phone back to me without looking at my face.
"Look..." she said, "I know a lot about you. Probably more than you would want me to know."
Now I looked away, my cheeks burning crimson as I placed my phone back in my pocket.
"I understand that you don't know me and that I have told you some pretty crazy things tonight. And now I am telling you that I am aware of some things about you and your past. I need you to please trust me even though you have no reason to at all."
I had placed my hands into my denim jean pockets, an involuntary reaction for me when I was uncomfortable. She reached out and pulled my left hand out of my pocket and held it between her two hands. They were small and warm. I turned my head back to face her. I looked into her eyes for what I then thought must have been the first time, because I was struck by the color. They were crystalline blue. I remember being surprised that I had not noticed the color earlier. The more I stared into her eyes, the more my discomfort melted away.
"I know about you mostly because of my dreams. Well, that and maybe one Google search once I saw your name. The thing about dreams is that they rarely provide me precise information that I need to find someone, and I needed to find you."
I felt my cheeks start to redden again. But it was like the coolness of her sky blue eyes drained the heat from my face.
"I have done some things that I am neither proud of or happy about." I whispered.
"I hope that in time you will see that it doesn't matter. Not to me. And that whatever you might have done willnot matter to you either. Or to anyone else. You are a good man. What I have seen most about you is what is in your heart."
Involuntary tears welled up in my eyes. She took her cue from that and awkwardly smiled.
"I need to catch this ferry." She said. She kissed my cheek and turned away toward the dock. "Send me a message after you have had some time to think about this. We really do have a lot to talk about."
And with that she was gone. Swallowed whole by the crowd of ferry riders all surging towards the metered entrance. I had one last glimpse of her hair...so starkly different than the Asian masses around her, and then nothing. I turned and headed towards a nearby taxi queue.
When I arrived back to my flat, I poured some water into a pot and put it on the stove. I reached a container of black tea from the cupboard and my cast ion teapot. I placed these on my desk along with my favorite Japanese teacup. While I waited for water to heat, I lit a candle and put on some acoustic music. I had fully adopted the Asian practice of drinking tea instead of coffee and had taken the time to learn about different teas and methods for preparation.
When the water was hot (not boiling!) I brought it over to my desk and set the pot on the trivet I kept there. I put a few grams of tea into the teapot and added water. I disposed of this and again added water to the teapot with the now clean tea leaves. I sat down at my desk to drink the fragrant tea and collect my thoughts. This was common practice for me when I needed to relax and focus.
The first thing that I did was to offer a prayer of thanks for another day of life, discovery and acceptance. I didn't pray to anyone in particular. My own peculiar spiritual belief was that there was probably someone or something out there and it was impossible to know if they were listening or not or for that matter if they even cared, but why take chances? Ever since I had recovered from my personal epiphany of madness 6 years ago, I made it a practice to give thanks for another day of life and learning.
I refilled my teacup and closed my eyes to think about the events that had occurred this evening. I started with analysis of how and why I had met Wendy. I was a firm unbeliever when it came to the concept of destiny...or more precisely predestiny. One of my guiding stars was the fact that me and me alone had responsibility for my future. I firmly believe that we all have a path to follow, and that path can be influenced by outside factors, but each person makes the choices that determine the direction of their path. My own path has taken a lot of crazy twists and turns, and it would be easy to blame others (or fate) for the setbacks that had occurred, however I had come to a significant realization during my recovery that I was ultimately responsible for each and every decision I had made. This realization, more significant than any drug or therapy, was the reason that I had been able to pull myself out the downward spiral that my life had been in.
The idea that I had a destiny that was unknown to me and more importantly not in my control was unacceptable and shook me. But I was getting ahead of myself. I am at my core a scientist and a pragmatist. There is a reason for everything. I had to consider the possibility that Wendy was not what she represented, that she was part of a scam. If so, it was an elaborate one. It was also possible that this was a joke. Maybe part of a planned jest by friends or perhaps a spontaneous story spun by an imaginative woman who had been approached by one too many strange men. I gave this theory about 60% possibility. It was also possible that she was crazy. Who knows how many people this possibility she had told this story to. It's a fun fantasy to construct that you are a powerful witch or demon or whatever she believed she was. I gave this theory about 30% probability of being true. That left a 10% possibility that she was telling the truth. I actually couldn't quite believe that I was rating the truth this high. There was something about her that rang true. Or maybe it was just the part about falling in love that I wanted to believe.
