Words of Innocence and Experience

I took out the lip balm to moisten my dry lips. Suddenly the sharp sound of something crashing disturbed the quietness in the staircase. I assumed that it was sound of my lip gloss or mascara falling down, but they were intact in my bag. Tiny pieces of broken glass shone on the dim ground, catching my attention, and I crouched down to find out what exactly was broken.

It was the small bottle of sand he gave me last October. I tried to gather the scattered sand in my palm, but my attempts were, out of question, futile.

I had a chat with him over MSN this afternoon when I was in the office. It was a nice surprise to see him logging in, for I was bored from taking a break from work, and I had not talked with him for quite a few days. He doesn’t even have an English name (and would probably consider it unnecessary to have one), so I would tentatively name him S.

I: Happy New Year!
S: Happy New Yeah!
S: Sorry “Year”
S: Congratulations!
I: There’s nothing to congratulate me on. ^^|||
I: How are you feeling? (i.e. I learned that he was sick from his blog)
S: I don’t know.
S: OK, I suppose.
S: Just those symptoms, which don’t really make me feel bad.
I: It’s better to see a doctor. I suffered from stomachache and diarrhea the week before last week, and I saw a doctor.
S: I don’t really feel uncomfortable.
S: It’s not harmful, I suppose.
I: If you say so. ^^|||
S: Thanks for your concern.
I: That sounds so distant.
S: Then I’ll add the emoticon ^^|||
I: Oh.

Perhaps we are truly distant now. The smiley didn’t change anything.

The traffic jam was dreadfully annoying. I was supposed to meet Allyson at the moment, yet I was still stuck on the highway, only a few kilometers away from Hsinchu. It was the National Day, and the TV was broadcasting the lame Double Ten Day celebration. Then my cell phone rang.

I: Hello?
S: I suffered from diarrhea. The doctor said it was enterogastritis. I had to tell my sister to cancel the trip. I guess I’m OK now. Since I’m still here, I can give you the gift.

S asked the reader of his blog to guess the name of a movie he saw in one blog post, providing a line from the movie. As a Wim Wenders fan and having written an introductory article about that particular film, I knew immediately that it was The State of Things. He had asked me to choose one of the two gifts he offered. One was some kind of jewelry and the other was a bottle of “seashell sand” from Penghu. I chose the latter as I hardly wear any jewelry.

“Nice choice,” he had remarked. “It’s more precious.”

I: How are you feeling now? Are you alright?
S: (ignored my question) When will you arrive today?
I: Um, soon. I’m still on the bus, but I have a lunch meeting with a friend at noon.
S: OK, give me a call when you are available so that I’ll give you the gift myself.
I: OK.

That afternoon, we agreed to meet at the motorcycle lane of NTHU. As I was walking towards the destination, I could see him approaching me. His shadowy figure crystalized in the afternoon sun. He was in a plain black T-shirt and blue jeans. His hair was longer than the way I had remembered it was, and longer hair, in my opinion, suited him better, with his impishness and caprice. He walked in large strides and did not shuffle even with his illness.

Finally we stood face to face. He had the bottle of sand between his fingers. The bottle was incredibly tiny, so when he handed it to me, my fingers brushed momentarily with his callous ones.

He rubbed his stomach before me. “I feel terrible now,” his lips twisted into a wry smile, “and I must go home and rest.”

“Thanks for the gift,” I said. “May you get well soon.”

“Thank you,” he said. We turned around simultaneously and walked away; I to the front gate and he back home. I did not look back, and I assumed that he didn’t, either.

Now the bottle of sand is broken.
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I’d like to write more about memories and past incidents. After putting them into words, I may eventually be able to let them go. Moreover, they might become potential elements of the novel I hope to write.