SIXTEEN 

XIULEI

I hear the front door swing open and I freeze in my tracks, phone halfway to my ear and still ringing. Slowly, I stuff the cell phone into my back pocket and turn myself around, eyes guiltily on the ground.

“Look at me.” The words come from my dad's thin silhouette is in the doorway. I lift my eyes a little.

“Are you going somewhere?” His voice is hard.

Unable to lie, I nod quietly. From my pocket, the phone continues to ring.

"Can you tell me why?"

I think of Nuoyi, think of how she didn't want anyone to know, didn't want her parents to know. Think of how my parents were friends with hers.

"I... I can't." 

My dad explodes, yelling over the sound of the call, his voice filled with anger. “I can’t believe you’re sneaking out again... I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU. Do you know how hard it is for your mom and I? How we feel each time you disobey? Do you know how tiring it is-" His voice breaks, and I can hear the desperation in it.

"That's it; go. Go meet your boyfriend or a drug dealer or whoever. I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. You can go do whatever you want. I’m too old to have to chase you down, too old to have to worry about the safety of my daughter at ing ONE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING.” My father stops talking as a coughing fit overcomes him, causing him to double over as his whole body heaves and shakes. He wipes his mouth on his sleeves and I see a dark red seep into the fabric. He’s coughing blood.

“Ba... I-” I reach out, wanting to help. Inside, I feel like breaking. I’d disappointed him again, disappointed him one too many times.

He doesn’t deserve your disobedience; he’s already dying.

My father meets my eye, and in his I see an infinite amount of tiredness ingrained in that one stare. His mouth hardens into a straight line. “Go.” He commands, and then turns away. His rejection hurt more than a slap ever could, and I flinch in pain.

I feel the tears gathering in my eyes as I watch my dad’s back, hunched over weakly, retreat back into the house. The door slams and I can hear the lock click. It was like the verdict of a judge. Guilty.

I take my pitiful little self out into the street, sitting on the frozen asphalt. Everything is quiet except for the cell phone in my pocket, which keeps ringing and ringing. The sound reminds me of why I was out here in the first place, why I’d been sneaking out. It wasn’t because I was meeting with a guy, nor was it because I’d wanted to do drugs or any illegal activities. It wasn’t any of that.

It had simply been Nuoyi.

Again.

I feel the anger burn inside me, stronger than the pain. She was the reason I was locked out here, she was the reason I’d disappointed my father again. It was all her, just because I’d wanted to be the good samaritan and help her.  

I pick up the phone and press “Answer Call” even though I know I should calm down before I reply. I can feel my knuckles tighten into fists, feel the nails digging into my skin. I take a breath, trying to sound calm.

“Nuoyi, I can’t go tonight. Seriously, my dad-”

“ you. You promised me.” Her voice is angry.

Something in me just breaks at those five, simple words, and I feel the emotions inside threatening to explode. I bite my lip hard as if to keep them from leaving my tongue, but they slip out anyways.  “Well I have a life too, you know!” I snap.

“You were the one that promised me that you’d be here to listen. You. So you come over here and live up to your ing end of this bargain.” Her words slur together, and I know that there is a bottle next to her, at least half empty, maybe more. 

Still, despite knowing this, everything that had been building inside for the past year ignites at her selfish comment, the making me burn with anger. All of my sadness, unvoiced worries, hurt... all of the things that Nuoyi thought only she could understand; it all overflows.

“Well, I’m sorry little miss my-life-is-horrible-pity-me-now. I have my own problems, my own issues, my own FAMILY that is breaking apart. Can’t you just be a little less selfish and see that?”

“I can’t believe you. Listen to me, you-”

“No. You listen to me for once. I’m not as mature as you, right? You told me that. Apparently, I don’t know what sadness or depression or craziness is, right? I don’t understand. I don’t KNOW like you do, I don’t HAVE those dark thoughts, RIGHT? Because I have my parents, have a family, have people that love me, so I just magically can't feel anything that you feel. Well. Let me tell you. I have a dad, yes, and he loves me, but he’s DYING. I have a mom, yes, and she loves me, but she’s BREAKING. I had an average life, but NOW IT’S GONE. When was the last time you’ve listened to me? Am I really the one who doesn’t know? It hurts more after you ing lose something that you ing had. So don’t tell me I’m breaking my promise to you when all I need is a freaking SECOND to myself.”

Silence. And then:

“I hate you. I wish I’d never met you.” Her voice is tipsily high, filled with tears. I imagine her legs dangling over the edge, her hands pressing into the ice-cold tiles of her rooftop. I can hear the wind in the background.

“The hell.”

“I hate you.” Something inside me is burning, breaking. Like a piece of my chest, gone. “How could you do this to me? I trusted you, Xiulei… and you lied.”

Everything is red. Everything is hurting. “Is it really that wrong for me to have my own ing tears?”

“Goddamnit, that's IT! I'm done. And there's NOTHING you can do to stop me.”

The realization is like a cold bucket of water in my face. What did I just say…

“Wait, Nuoyi, I didn’t mean i-”

The dial tone. It blares.

I don’t go after her. All I do is sit there, alone on the street, feeling the pain in my chest turn into a deep, dark hole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The funeral parlor is draped in white. The casket is closed. They won’t let us see her body. Her parents are standing to the side, crying. Crying. The first time they'd ever cried for their daughter, ever cared... it was when she was dead.

My own eyes are dry.

“It’s okay, she’s in a better place.”

“She’ll always live on inside of you, dear.”

I hate you. Her voice repeats inside my head.

I lay the white rose at the end of her casket and then stand, staring down at its drying petals, a sharp contrast against the dark wood. I remember her telling me that a half wilted white rose was the most beautiful thing in the world...

White roses mean purity, but think about it Xiulei, what left in me is pure? Nothing. The brown and yellow seeping into its white-velvet petals... that's the prettiest thing I've ever seen.  It's like the end of my innocence, all of the ugly things right here... She'd patted her chest. Everything ugly, just swallowing the flower in time. No, it's not dead yet. But it will be.

It will be.

The dial tone. I feel the bile rise in my throat.

You killed her. My first coherent thought since she’d died.

You killed her. I think of the scars she used to cut into her skin, one for each day her parents hadn’t been there.

You killed her. I think of my words that night, the words that drove her to do what she did.

You killed her. You killed her. You killed her. The bile is at the back of my mouth. My feet run to the door, out into the corridor, into the bathroom.

You killed her. The tiles are cold beneath my bared knees. The black dress I wore was too short.

You killed her. I throw up.

You killed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sitting here on her rooftop again, the first time since she’d gone. The December wind is freezing, the silence deafening. My fingers shake as I hold on to the pen, stare down at the blank sheet of paper. Nuoyi’s necklace still hangs at my collar, but it only reminds me of our broken promises, and how heavy this new burden is. Many times I’d tried to take it off, but somehow my thumb slips on the clasp. It is impossible to let go of this weight, and the new hole in my chest is aching. Aching, burning… but I cannot cry. What right have I to my tears?

My hand tightens around the pen as I lift it.  My words are sprawled in tight letters. Next to me, I can hear Promises playing. I ignore it.

It’s funny how stories work, how the words can play tricks on us, even as we speak them.

The sky is dark. There are only a few stars out tonight.

It’s funny how time can change the plot, twist it into something else, something different from what it used to be.

I don’t know what I should see in the dark expanse of midnight. Should I watch as some kind of story spins out in the galaxies? Right now, all I can find are little dots on a black canvas, scattered in random formations, not even constellations.

It’s funny that we always end up forgetting what we thought we’d remember forever.

The sky has no tale to tell me tonight. It is darker and emptier than I am.

How the promises we make always end up broken anyways; no one has kept a promise till their dying breath.

She’s gone. She already broke her last promise to me… and how am I supposed to live with that?

It’s funny how this story goes.

I don’t know how to go on.

It’s funny…

But then again, I don’t know how to end it all either.

Really, really funny.