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Chapter 13 A Friend
Chapter 13 A Friend
Chen Man was one of the few friends to whom Fang Qitong would give her home address. She was thirty-six, worked in landscape, spoke fast, had sharp eyes, and had divorced two years earlier than Qitong. Now she lived alone with a full head of steam. On Saturday afternoon she came to the door with a bottle of champagne and a box of strawberries. Her first sentence as she came in was, "Let me see the person who fished you out of the model unit. Where is he? You haven't hidden him in a cupboard, have you?"
Zhou Yu happened to come out of the kitchen, a freshly washed glass in his hand. He called her Sister Chen Man. His voice was steady. His ears went red. Chen Man looked him up and down for three seconds, then turned to Fang Qitong and said, "All right. The eyes are clean. The hands are clean. For the moment I won't curse you for losing your head."
The three of them drank champagne by the window. The strawberries were very sweet. Chen Man told a joke about a client changing the tree species in the middle of the night, and only after the joke did she turn serious.
"I'm not here to inspect," she said. "I'm here to confirm you haven't handed yourself back to a life that looks correct. Correct is what harms a person most. Qitong, you laugh more than you did in the spring. I can see that. Zhou Yu, I only have one sentence. She looks strong. In fact, when she's alone, she turns the lights very low. If one day you can't be bothered to turn a light on, say so early. Don't wear her down."
"I won't wear her down." Zhou Yu looked at her and did not dodge. "Light is my work. Her light I am even less willing to turn off. When she wants it dark, I'll stay dark with her. When she wants it bright, I'll push the dimmer up."
Chen Man was stunned for a moment, then laughed and cursed. "You design people, all of you talk like this. Fine. I'll finish this glass and go. I have a thing tonight. I'm not here to be a light bulb. A light bulb gets hot."
When she left she hugged Fang Qitong at the door and said, low, "I didn't hear the bed. Congratulations. Next time I come, I hope it's still this person opening the door for you. If it isn't, don't force yourself. Call me."
After the door shut, the smell of strawberries was still in the apartment. Fang Qitong leaned on the door and watched Zhou Yu collect the glasses. All at once she felt that being seen by a friend was a new kind of nakedness, one that took more courage than taking clothes off. She walked over, held him from behind, and set her face against his back.
"She likes you," she said.
"She likes that you're glad," he said. "If one day I make you unhappy, she'll come and curse me. This arrangement is good. One more person keeping an eye on me."
"For now, don't be kept an eye on." Her hand went down from his stomach and, through his trousers, closed on the place that had already begun to respond. "She's gone. The strawberries are still here. I want you in a very lazy way. The sofa. The light not too bright. You go slowly. I want to talk to you while we do it."
They moved the champagne glasses aside and sank into the sofa. She lay on her side. He entered from behind, and after he entered he really was slow, slow to the rhythm of idle talk. Her back was against his chest. His hand went back and forth between her breast and her clit, in no hurry to send her over. Outside, the color of the sky went from gold to blue. They talked about Chen Man's trees, about next week's site, about his mother hearing that the girlfriend was a designer and saying, Then she must be very busy. While they talked, the slow rhythm still stacked the pleasure. Her sentences began to break. He spoke less then, and only kissed her shoulder with his mouth. Below, he kept that wearing depth.
"I'm going to come," she said. "Don't stop. This speed. The speed of talking. Let me come in the middle of the talk."
"I'm here." His fingers rubbed, steady. "Come. I'll watch you come. You're so hot. You're so good."
When she came she did not cry out loud. She only drew a long breath. Her walls sucked him pulse by pulse. Her body spasmed lightly. The sucking brought him to the edge too, and still, as lazy as she had asked, he thrust slowly another dozen times before he came. When he came he held her very tight, tight enough that their heartbeats stacked. The bubbles in the champagne had already gone quiet in the glass. A few strawberries were left. She picked one up and fed it to him, picked another and bit it herself. Red juice stayed on her mouth. He licked it off.
"After being seen by a friend," she said, "I want even more to keep you. Before, I was afraid that being seen meant being defined. Now what is seen is that I'm glad. Gladness can define me for a while. I don't lose by it."
"Then I'll stay a little longer." He drew the blanket up. "Until noon tomorrow. At noon I'll take you for noodles. The shop is the one I went to with my father when I was small and we came to Shanghai. I don't know if it's still there. If it isn't, we'll change to another. You only have to sit across from me."
"I'll sit," she said.
In the night she woke once and found he had turned the light to the lowest setting. He was beside her, looking at a detail drawing on his phone, the brightness pulled to the lowest as well. She cursed him and told him he was not allowed to stay up. He set the phone face down, kissed her hair, and said he was only looking once. She laid her leg over him and pressed his waist, a way of not letting him leave. He laughed, and truly stopped looking. In the dark the two of them heard each other's breath. She thought a friend's blessing was good. Better was that after the blessing left, a concrete body heat remained in the room. Body heat was more reliable than champagne.
