Chapter 51: Has Always Been I
“Do you think we have any regrets left in this life, Xiaomei?” I asked.
“No kids. Does that count?” she answered, leaning against my shoulder and fanning her palm-leaf fan.
The gentle breeze brushed past my body. Cooling.
I smiled bitterly. “Counts. Let’s just try harder in the next life.”
“Why would I still be with you if there’s a next life?” She stopped fanning herself and gave me a cold smile.
“Why? Are you suffering right now?” I asked faintly.
“No, not at all. If there’s a next life, I’d still stick with you,” Xiaomei choked.
“Don’t cry. Kids or no kids, we’re fine.” I caressed her hair.
We were of the same age, 52.
We might never have any children in this life since Xiaomei was infertile.
We were childhood sweethearts.
At five years old, I was the king among a bunch of other kids.
And Xiaomei followed her granny around, sitting on a rattan chair at a corner of the street to cool off.
I only realized later that Xiaomei was envious that I could play with the kids so carefreely.
Of course, I envied her for having a kin to look after her.
That’s right, I was raised in an orphanage.
I had no worries. All I did was run about all day with the other orphans.
I missed those days. It was a pity there’s no going back.
I remembered getting acquainted with Xiaomei in elementary school.
We became deskmates.
It was love at first sight for me.
Who would’ve thought that the girl on the rattan chair would become my deskmate? Who would’ve thought that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together?
After school, I invited her to join our games and because of that, she’d gotten a hard beating from her granny.
From then on, I’ve been spending time and having fun with my childhood sweetheart.
We got married in a church after graduating from university.
We lived together in a home that we’ve strived hard for.
Our hairs turned grey and we continued living our married life, one day at a time.
…
No regrets, basically, except for our lack of affinity with children.
Xiaomei was 20 when she got diagnosed with a serious gynecological condition.
Irregular periods brought little inconvenience to her daily life but the major concern was infertility.
We were able to keep pets for the first two decades but they had to leave us, too.
Our biggest dog, Whitey, died when we were 37.
It took some time for Xiaomei to recover from his death and I caught her crying in a corner many times.
I did bring up the option of child adoption. Obviously, I was an orphan and I felt that adoption wasn’t a bad choice.
However, Xiaomei looked at it from a different angle. “What if the child has a childhood sweetheart that he will be leaving behind? Is it not possible that we might ruin a perfect couple?”
I had no arguments. Women were sensitive creatures after all.
Who would dare reason with a woman?
Years passed. There are pros to living life with just your spouse.
I retired at 63 and we realized that we weren’t able to take care of each other any longer because our bodies were weakening day by day.
I have developed short-term dementia and started forgetting my keys and other little things.
Xiaomei was worse. She would watch television and forget that she’d been cooking just a moment ago, almost resulting in a few fire emergencies.
We were getting old and there was nothing the hospital could do.
After much discussion, hiring a housekeeper seemed like a decent option.
In spite of that, we were worried that the housekeeper would have ulterior motives like what Xiaomei had read on the news.
Stealing and setting the house on fire were common occurrences.
Plus, our memories were deteriorating and we wouldn’t be able to tell if things did go missing.
At last, we decided to get an agent to sell off our house.
We then deposited the three hundred thousand into our bank card.
We moved into a nursing home and the days were quite decent.
My same-aged neighbor wasn’t my match when it came to chess, and Xiaomei, too, had found an old lady to spend time with.
Because her dementia was more serious, I was in charge of our finances.
And because of my own condition, I wrote the password on the back of the card.
Good things don’t last.
In our third year, Xiaomei was sent to the hospital and was diagnosed with stomach cancer.
The cancer was already in the terminal stage. I ran about in the hospital with my bank card, lost and frantic.
Xiaomei pulled my trembling arm. “Forget it, old man. Keep the money for yourself.”
I was a mess, bawling my old eyes out.
I asked her when did she start feeling pain but she refused to answer.
She only smiled.
I asked the doctor for the best medication and instruments but he shook his head and said that she only had a few more months to live.
I started visiting the hospital every day after she got admitted.
She was sent to the emergency room in her third week.
When I reached it, I was told to sign an acknowledgment form but before I could do so, the surgery room light went off.
Xiaomei was gone. Gone forever.
I cried the whole night and even fainted in the hospital.
When I woke up, the doctor told me that my heart wasn’t doing so well.
At night, my mind was filled with thoughts of Xiaomei. I took the medical record hung on the wall and flipped it over to write my will.
I decided to leave all my money to the nursing home, requesting for them to purchase few more chess sets and also to renovate the public square since Xiaomei enjoyed spending her time there.
Finishing up, I walked up to the rooftop.
All I could think of when I jumped was Xiaomei.
Life without her was unlivable.
During the plunge, I thought about the pirate ship ride we took when we were 20.
It felt similar.
…
The night was dark and the road was long.
I felt strength returning to my body and I could stand up straight again.
Many things came back to my mind.
Many, many.
I walked forward subconsciously.
On the other side of the road was a big river.
I noticed many similar souls walking forward, all seemingly in deep thought.
There wasn’t much scenery by the river save for the red spider lilies in full bloom.
I followed the crowd and heard a strange voice.
A creature with a horse’s face shouted as he held onto an iron chain, “Don’t rush. One by one. Reincarnate and start a new life!”
Helpless, I carried on forward. The bridge was very narrow and could only fit one person at a time.
I saw many people crowding before the bridge, Xiaomei included.
She looked very young, 18 at my guess, and extremely beautiful, just as I remembered.
I ran over to her immediately. “Where is this, Xiaomei?”
Comments