Mr. Ho waited, expectant.
“Tell him I said hi.”
He plucked my card out of Pete’s hands and put it in his wallet. “I will.”
In my imagination, I’d run into Matt hundreds of times over the years: on the bus, at the bank, in New Haven, in Cambridge; I had fantasies of him being a patient at the hospital, school, university, wherever I was. Perhaps it was also for this reason that I’d taken the position at the hospital close to Chinatown when we’d finally come back to New York. I’d imagined that he would walk in through the door one day, but of course, he never had-not to the pediatric cardiac surgery department, anyway. Finally, I’d gone looking for him in Chinatown. I knew the places he used to hang around and made excuses for myself to frequent them. I saw that the nameplate for his old apartment had changed, so he’d moved. I didn’t dare face him directly anyway, not after what I’d done to him, and I tried not to be noticed as I wandered around.
Then, I actually saw him once. It was late in the evening, and through the crowd, I suddenly caught a glimpse of him, just a few feet away, going into a bridal shop. It was only for a second, and I’d seen him from the back, but I knew it was him. I had to follow. I heard a woman’s voice greet him, then I stepped up to the lit window. There was a little girl, about five years old, sitting underneath a mannequin. Was she his? I could remember now the reason I’d lied to Matt all those years before: to avoid dooming our child to this lovely little girl’s fate. But who was I to say that she, too, wouldn’t take her future into her own hands? This was the reason Vivian had been given a whole life to spend, every day of every year, with my Matt.
And then there he was, in the doorway. The little girl jumped up, ran to him and he caught her in his arms, laughing. I quickly stepped out of sight. I was afraid to linger, I felt as if I had no more strength in my legs. I left him there and didn’t dare return to disrupt his happy life.
It was early on Saturday morning and I hadn’t even changed out of my motorcycle gear, because I’d come in only to check the status of one small patient of mine: a newborn who’d come out of surgery with me the evening before. She’d made it through the night. I said a few words to the parents, who were waiting in Intensive Care.
Even after all these years, I am still filled with awe each time I hold the knife in my hand. My patients are often small, so small that some have breathed our common air for only a few days, and here they lie under the scalpel. Every time, I am filled with dread that it is my skill that will determine if my charge shall live or die. I try to believe in fate. I try to tell myself after the failed surgeries that there are times when there is nothing anybody could have done better. Those are the nights when I lie in bed alone, reliving the operation, wondering why this one was chosen to die, wondering if I had made that choice by some error I had made. It is a task that demands constant perfection from me; perhaps that is why I chose this work, to have that unending call of faultlessness deafen me to the call of my own heart.
“Can I have a minute too, Doc?” It was Matt’s voice in English that came out of the corridor. He was standing there in a T-shirt and jeans, and at the actual sight of him in the flesh, looking at me with the same golden eyes I’d dreamed about for so long, my heart inflated at such a speed that I thought I would die of joy right there.
I saw him take me in. A smile began to light up his face. “Kimberly.”
A wave of happiness rose from my chest to my face and I looked down to hide my sudden flush. I shifted the motorcycle helmet to my other hand. I snuck another look at him and saw he really was older: instead of the young guy I’d known, this was a man. The muscles of his shoulders and arms were hard from a lifetime of physical labor, and the strength of his gaze seemed to say that he knew who he was.
Now he spoke in Chinese. “I wasn’t sure I’d find you here today.”
“Actually, I’m off duty. I just came to see one patient. Come on. Let’s go to my office.”
The walk through the hospital hallways felt electric with Matt by my side. I didn’t know what to say, and I took care not to bump into him by accident, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the simple fact that he was here with me.
When we stepped inside my office, he took his time walking along the walls, looking at all my diplomas and awards. “You’ve come real far, factory girl.”
I went to my desk, to flip over the only photo I keep there. “Thanks,” I said, trying to sound casual.
He noticed, of course, and came over to me. “You don’t need to do that. I don’t want to see the love of your life anyway.”
I took a breath. “How’s Park? And Vivian?”
He didn’t seem surprised by my knowledge that he was with her again. He must have figured I would have found out. “Both fine. He’s helping out at UPS, where I work, doing some odd jobs in the garage. Vivian’s got a job at a bridal shop.”
So Matt was working as a UPS guy. “What happened to her father’s place?”
“Closed down. Bad economy. She’s doing good too, the boss says she’ll become the manager someday.”
“Great,” I said. I’d heard that one before and I knew Matt didn’t believe it himself either. “I thought I saw her in a magazine years ago.”
“Yeah, it probably was her. She did some modeling for a while but then she quit.”
“Why?”
“Her husband got too jealous.” He ran his fingers through his hair, seeming embarrassed. “Stupid guy, huh?”
I felt as if he’d struck me. He did love her, of course he did. They’d had years of loving each other and caring for each other. After I broke up with him, I found out that he’d gone back to her very soon afterward. I’d just been a short break in between Vivian and Vivian.
“And how are you?” I managed to ask.
He flicked his gaze across my large office, then shrugged, a bit defensively. “I make a good living.”
“Yes.” I looked up at him and I couldn’t stop myself anymore. Slowly, I reached up, laid a hand against his cheek. I wished I could keep him safe the rest of his life. I took a deep breath. “I have to tell you-”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m not as dumb as I look. I was there too, remember, when we made the baby?”
I was speechless.
His voice cracked. “When you broke up with me, you shattered my heart. At first, I believed you that we were too different. ‘A bamboo door needs a bamboo door and a metal door needs a metal door.’ I’ll never forget you saying those words. I always knew you were better than me, but I couldn’t figure it out either, how you could be so cold all of a sudden. And then I counted the days and I knew.”
I took him in my arms then and he let me. He still smelled the same, of aftershave and sandalwood soap. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s why I never came after you. That’s why I went back to Vivian.”
“You already knew then?” I could hardly recognize my own voice. “You got back together with her because you hated me?”
“It broke me, Kimberly. You never asked me. You never gave me a chance. We could have made it. Maybe not with all those fancy degrees of yours, but we could have been together and we could have had our baby.” Now his eyes were clotted with unshed tears.
“I can’t tell you how much I regret what I did. I was never better than you, and I’m not now. In those days, our financial situation was so unsteady, I felt as if we were all hanging on to a tiny piece of flotsam that could never take all of our weight. You, me, Park, Ma, the baby. I had to cut you loose.” I paused for a moment. “And I didn’t think I could make you happy.”
“What?”
“I know, we were so happy then. But I didn’t think it was fair to tie you to me with a baby. Could you have lived with this? A pediatric cardiac surgeon for a wife? I often work eighty hours a week. I’m on call weekends and nights. It would have been different if you could have chosen freely, day by day, to be with me, but with the baby, you would have had no choice.”