He and she shared similar interests, and even back when they were teenagers, he knew she would break his heart when she eventually went home to the Philippines. Funny that he would end up being the one to leave Hong Kong first, he thought. Once his father died, Vincent would have a new beginning. He would start all over somewhere new and pretend like none of this had ever happened.
But for his plans to work, it was best not to grow any fonder of Marian. He shook his head. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about. How’s my dad?”
“The master? He’s all right. I heard your voice, though. That’s why I’m here.”
Vincent grimaced but suppressed it so that Marian wouldn’t see. He’d probably made a noise in his sleep while he was having that weird dream. What was he, a kid? He scoffed at his own foolishness.
“Nah, you were hearing things,” he said. “I’ve been asleep.”
“That’s good, but…you sure? I can boil you a Coke if you’re having sleep problems.”
“I can sleep just fine. You should go to bed yourself.” Vincent remembered the multiple failed phone calls from earlier and redirected the conversation away from himself. “Oh yeah—where were you today?”
Marian jolted. She visibly paled in the light of her flashlight.
Vincent frowned. “Did something happen?”
“No, not at all. Sorry. I had to—you know—see a doctor.”
“For another one of my dad’s appointments? Man, I’m sorry you have to do all this for us. You really should get some rest.”
“Yeah, I will. I’m okay, though. I worry more about you, Vince.”
“Don’t. I promise you, I’m really, really not worth the effort.”
“…You said that once before. What do you mean by that?”
Vincent didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
He didn’t want to envy Richard’s sympathy-inducing misfortune. At the same time, he couldn’t stifle the jealousy he felt for Richard’s myriad talents and good looks. He didn’t want Jeffrey’s money, but he needed the cash. He wanted to go to the US and start a new life for himself. He didn’t want to feel guilty, not when he’d already made up his mind and was only waiting for his father to die, but ultimately, that didn’t stop the shame nor the endless self-sabotaging dreams.
He was so damn wishy-washy. He had neither the determination nor the perseverance to pick a side. That was why he wasn’t worth it.
But when he didn’t say any of that, Marian gave him a smile that felt like a hug. She said, “You know what? I think you need that Coke after all. I’ll put lemon in it. Let me make you a boiled Coke with lemon.”
“I’m not some fifteen-year-old kid anymore.”
“So? You still like boiled Coke, don’t you?”
Vincent couldn’t argue that, but he sure could pout. Marian grinned. If anyone could see that smile and fire off a retort, Vincent always thought, he wanted to meet them and shake their hand. Marian always had a smile ready for him, even though it seemed to him like her job kept her on her toes all day. It made him wonder how much power it took to smile as bright as the sun day in and day out.
One of the factors driving him to the US was his complete and utter lack of respect for his pissant of a father, who dared gripe at their housekeeper and her sunny smile. His father was less than human to him. Vincent hated him so much that he knew if he threw the first punch, he wouldn’t stop until that lower life-form was dead. He wished he would do Vincent the favor of dying already. That would be the best outcome.
Vincent stood there in silence. Look at him, blaming everyone else for every crack in his armor. Poor, poor Vincent. In his head, he imagined killing himself.
On the outside, he just gave Marian a listless smile. “Yeah, I do. I’ll drink it tomorrow.”
“Good! I’ll leave it in the fridge. Good night, Vince.”
“…Night.”
The last thing he saw before the light went away again was Marian’s smile.
The mid-April Florida weather resembled the heights of Hong Kong summer. Vincent watched the cruise liners leave the harbor of Fort Lauderdale, bound south for Nassau and Havana. It was a quintessential summer at the seaside, but no matter how hard he looked, he failed to catch a glimpse of any Asian dragons.
May was just around the corner. Hong Kong would soon be abuzz with preparation for the Dragon Boat Festival.
After waking from a nap, Vincent rose from both his hard hotel bed and his comforting memories. He hadn’t comprehended the truth back when he struggled to see himself as just another member of the masses, but now, he could. A person would always be a person. Just like everyone else. No one, no matter how otherworldly they might seem, was divine.
To this day, Vincent still didn’t like dragon boat races. He didn’t hate them—didn’t begrudge his own youth, the stupidity and the experience of staring at the sun so hard he blinded himself, or his inability to conceptualize the loneliness of a man only centimeters away from him. Really, it was only at the very end, right before that beautiful Caucasian man left for Japan, that he’d been able to stare into the heart of the darkness.
Richard was never offended by Vincent, not even when Vincent called him lonely to his face. Richard was like a divine being to whom anger was a foreign concept. All he did was take Vincent’s words obediently to heart.
Now, Vincent could see that Richard had had no other choice. Richard wasn’t aloof by nature. No, he was simply incredibly lonely.
As such, Vincent realized, his advice to Richard wasn’t wrong. Don’t you ever let go of him. Not ever. A bit violent for a parting gift, perhaps, but it was the one and only thing Vincent had been capable of giving at the time.
He prided himself on not being the type of person who could plunge headlong into the next enterprise, always striving to move forward. Whether that was a good or a bad thing was beyond him to say—it was simply the truth. There were others, he knew, who had no choice but to keep surging forward. That was the truth, too, whether he liked it or not. It had nothing to do with him. It was as inevitable as the arrival of dragon season.
He finished dressing, prepared to check out, and took one final look at his phone screen. He grimaced. There was a message from a person he knew quite well indeed.
It showed a red cup full of a dark brown liquid. A slice of lemon and a mint leaf floated on the surface.
He gave the screen a silent, wistful look for a handful of seconds before striding from the room and into a different world than the one from which he’d been born.