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The Red String by Sam Nelson (c) Sam Nelson |
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“What’s this?” I whispered as I gently fingered the red string around his torso. “It’s for good luck,” he said sheepishly. I hoped he would keep on talking but he just looked away and shut his eyes. I continued to play with the string. It was a plain cloth string about 3/8th of an inch thick, which was knotted tightly, the only way it could be removed was by cutting it. I wanted to know more but I let the matter go. I continued with my caresses and he purred like a cat. I was glad he had answered my ad for a language partner. Becoming intimate with someone so far from home was furthest from my mind. I had come to Taipei simply to improve my Mandarin skills while teaching ESL. On our way out of the hotel I slipped him some money. “There’s no need for that!” he shouted. Upset, I shouted back, “It’s for taxi fare. I don’t want you getting home late. Your mom will worry. Please take it.” He nodded an okay, but pursed his lips and cast his eyes downward. We met again for dinner on the weekend. We ate in silence. “What’s he really thinking?” I broke the silence. “Hey, do you know that my students have nicknamed me Snowman?” “Really?” His answer was hardly audible. “It’s because I’m the only Canadian at my school, and being white, tall and large they thought ‘snowman’ would be a great nickname for me. Whatcha think?” “I dunno.” He was wearing the CK1 cologne I had given him for his birthday. He smelled divine. But he looked tired and seemed pre-occupied. He hardly ever wanted to come back to my place or even consider going to a hotel, which he had preferred before. We mostly met now at Starbucks for our language exchange. Feeling brave and a little horny, I asked, "Do you want to come back to my place?" "I feel a cold coming. I don’t want to pass it on.” He always brought his Newsweek magazine to our meetings. We usually sat for hours over many a latté discussing the different articles. I would never let him pay. He hadn’t any money because he was unemployed and dependent on his mother. He always dressed quite hip, I couldn’t figure out how he managed on his limited means. I looked drab against him. He was fit and I wasn’t because of my drinking and smoking. His English was excellent. But he was afraid of losing his fluency and his connection to the West which was so important to him. Sometimes we met two, even three times a week. He had me hooked, which I suspected he knew. He would wait for me at Kuting Station on the main Taipei line by the turnstiles. I never had to wait for him, he was always there first. Today he was relaxed and didn’t seem pre-occupied. He even teased me. He poked my taunt stomach with his index finger hinting I should take better care of myself. Actually, I was barrel-chested and to most people it looked like had a gut, but I didn’t. He knew that, but he was telling me I drank and smoked too much. I knew he hated the smell of alcohol and smoke on my lips. “I thought I was going to die when you were on top of me. I’m going to tell you what to eat from now on.” “Oh, are you now?” Over our second latté, I asked him, “Have you thought about teaching English? I can introduce you to the manager at my school.” “I’ll think about it.” As we were leaving, he told me he wanted to come back to my place. “Can you stay the night?” “I can’t. I told you about my mother.” After we made love, he dressed quickly and left. While he was in the bathroom I had put some money into his pants without his knowing. He called me from outside. “It’s cab fare,” I told him. “I don’t want you getting home late. Your mom will worry.” At our next rendezvous, I told him I was going home for a short visit. “I want to spend the night with you,” he said. “I’m going to lie to my mother. I’ll tell her I’m going out with my school friends. She’ll understand. It’s normal for high schools friends to get together and spend the night eating, and drinking and come home the next day.” I was flabbergasted. We were in bed together and I played with the red string. “How long will you wear it?” “Until the Chinese New Year. You can cut it off then if you like, but only then. It will be one year that I have had it on.” “Is this a Buddhist or Chinese custom?” “It's kind of a secret. I will explain it to you then.” I felt privileged. He came with me to the airport. We secretly held hands in the taxi. He embraced me in public, which surprised me. I wanted to embrace him, instead I just stood feeling shocked and awkward. I publicly told him, “I love you.” He said nothing, but became stiff and awkward. I slipped him an envelope filled with cash. He brushed it aside and gave me a dirty look. “It’s a cab fare.” I returned just before the Chinese New Year. I felt something was wrong. I e-mailed him but my e-mails came back undelivered. I called him but his phone number was out of service. I didn’t know where he lived, as he hadn't given me his physical address, so I searched the streets of Taipei looking for him. I was at a loose end and falling apart. One day, after Chinese New Year, I awoke early. I went to the day market and bought some red string. I came home and tied a piece around my gut. Every time I touched it I thought of him. |
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