Kinder Than Solitude

20

On an overcast afternoon in late March, Sizhuo stood in front of the shop and watched a pair of swallows fixing their nest under the eave. Swallows were monogamous birds, she remembered reading, and a couple would return to their old nest year after year.

Stubborn creatures, she thought. Why come back to this polluted city when there must be a better place — fresher air, bluer sky — for their offspring? Yet at least they were bound to an old home. She herself had not grown up here, and she had little to claim in this place; still, she resisted decamping, struggling to make this unkind city her home.

A couple walked close. Sizhuo turned, and her face paled momentarily before she regained her composure. Boyang, accompanied by a middle-aged woman, had stopped a few steps away, both studying Sizhuo.

“Are you closed today?” Boyang said.

“No,” Sizhuo said.

A few months ago, after their disastrous meal at a countryside pub, she had sent him a text message, saying she had decided that it would be best for them not to see each other again. She had thought that he would call or stop by, to plead for himself, and she had been disappointed when he had sent a one-word reply: “agreed.” She had refused to believe that he had hurt her feelings, but now, facing him, she felt the coldness in her fingertips.

Boyang introduced the woman as an old friend, Ruyu, who had lived in America but who had come back to settle down. They had taken a walk around the Back Sea, he said, and he thought he would bring her to see if there was a new exhibition here.

There was, Sizhuo replied, and led the way back to the shop. She pointed out to Boyang and the woman the collection of minute crystal vases, with miniature still lifes of butterflies and orchids painted inside. She did not ask if they needed a tour, and they did not request one. From the way they walked together Sizhuo could see that they must have an intimate connection. If she herself had ever occupied any space in Boyang’s heart, she knew it was no longer there.

They did not stay in the shop for long, and before leaving, the woman looked into Sizhuo’s eyes and wished her good luck. Why, Sizhuo thought after they left; what would she need good luck for? She did not know that Boyang had presented her to the woman as a girl he might have loved; he could have made a life with the girl, Boyang had admitted.

Not anymore? Ruyu had asked.

Not now that Ruyu had come back, Boyang had answered.

Out of curiosity Ruyu had requested to meet the girl, and afterward they walked along the lakefront, not saying much. There would be a time when the girl’s face would come back to them, as every one of us has to unearth, at times, a face or two from the past — that of an earlier love, of a lost friend, or of ourselves from a bygone time, when we hadn’t learned that our faces could haunt others’ hearts, too.

He was wise not to fall in love with the girl, Ruyu said eventually. The girl deserved a happier life, and he was right to leave her alone.