I slid back into bed and pulled the covers over my shoulders. My ears tuned out the sound of the television, but I could still hear Fiona panting next to me. I was expecting her to say something but she didn’t. Fiona inched closer to me and curled up next to my arm. The two of us then laid there for a while. I sat there debating whether I should ask for more sex, but I felt like no matter how many more times we did it I wouldn’t be satiated. The sex, the alcohol, the cigarettes. It was never enough, but that night my hunger was deeper than usual. Sex at least was by far the best of the three, and the satisfaction lasted much longer. But eventually, even that faded. It sure didn’t help that I wasn’t going to get much of it in the barracks. Or I certainly hoped I wouldn’t. That thought led to me wondering what my life would be like back in Taiwan in general.

  Though I felt guilty for thinking it in the moment with Fiona, I suddenly became glad that I was leaving. Life in Maryland was growing very stale. I was grateful to find work when I had to find a way to take care of my mother, but after we stabilized each day became aggravatingly dull. Perhaps even if I didn’t go back to Taiwan I would have gone on the road trip with Eddie and Jack to Los Angeles. I would’ve promised Fiona I would be back, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted that.

  Fiona slid off the bed and grabbed my shirt, which was still laying on the corner. The cloth seemed to hug the sheets. She pulled the sleeves over her arms as she made her way to the mirror. She then buttoned up the buttons and pulled her hair back so that it fell over the collar. She pivoted from left to right, examining her reflection.

  “Not half bad,” she proclaimed. “I’m keeping this.”

  I sat up. “Now? What am I wearing then?”

  “Your undershirt and jacket.”

  “That’s hardly presentable.”

  “Nobody here knows us, and I like your scent.” As she said it, she turned around to face me and pulled the collar close to her nose.

  “Well when you put it like that…”

  She grinned as if I had just given her a present. She pulled up her skirt from the floor, then her stockings and her coat over her arms. “Let’s do something different?” she asked in a half declaration half question.

  “What?”

  “Teach me how to shoot your gun.”

  Obviously I didn’t have a permit, and I was sure my father didn’t either. Otherwise I could try to pass off as him, which wouldn’t have been too hard. We would have to go somewhere no one would check.

  We took I-70 west somewhere into the mountains and pulled out at a place where my father had brought me before. Or at least it was near where had had brought me before. I pulled a lamp flashlight from the glove compartment that my dad kept there and placed it on the ground next to a tree. I then found an older atlas book and ripped out the page for California. There was no particular reason for it, other than that the page was closer to the beginning. When I stuck it to the tree as best I could with some chewing gum, though, I eyed the part that said “Los Angeles”, and had a sudden urge to go with Eddie and Jack. I thought about the beaches, the food, the palm trees, and what other things my imagination could conjure up about the place, mostly from movies.

  “Well?” asked Fiona. “What do I do?”

  “The important thing is not to flinch,” I said as if on cue.

  Fiona extended her right arm toward the tree.

  “No no, both hands like this,” I said, correcting her grip.

  “And line up the gap to the target?” she asked.

  “Right.”

  “What’s the target?”

  “Uh…Los Angeles.”

  With less hesitation than I was expecting she pulled the trigger, and I could see dust and splinters fly up from where she hit the tree. The glare from the lamp was such that I could not tell where she had hit, so I walked up to the tree slowly, and then stood next to the target.

  “Wow, pretty close to center,” I declared.

  “Were you expecting something different?”

  “No one ever does well the first time.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone flinches the first time,” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t, for some reason. “You’ve got some talent there.”

  “Maybe I should take up sport shooting.”

  “Maybe you should,” I agreed.

  “Something you like about L.A.?”

  That question caught me off guard. “The girls.” It sounded like a better answer than that I wanted to escape from it all: Taiwan, Maryland, and — what I didn’t want to bring to words at the time — that there was no proper goodbye from Fiona. Escape seemed the only thing I could do.

  Her expression darkened. I could not see her too clearly in the dark, but the lamp illuminated enough of her face to show this was a mood of hers I was not used to. She turned the gun toward me, aiming at my chest. “How many bullets?”

  “It’s always fully loaded!” I blurted out, in what was meant to be a warning.

  “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  I paused. “Five.”

  I held my hands up. I knew her well enough that in that moment I was certain she was capable of pulling the trigger. And so I had no thoughts in my head. Everything went blank.

  “Five?” she repeated in a whisper.

  I only nodded in response.

  She aimed again at the tree and pulled the trigger repeatedly in quick succession, bits of paper and dust flying through the air. When the cloud settled I went over to the map of California. The holes did not form the tightest group, but each round made it to the paper, which was impressive enough.

  “Good group,” I said anyway.

  She dropped the gun in her purse and walked toward the car.

  The ride back to the city was done in silence, as Fiona had gone from that dark mood to one of her sour ones, which meant we weren’t talking. I would like to say we had a moment of understanding, which led to us realizing that the main thing that mattered was our love for each other, particularly at this moment right before I was leaving for the army. But Fiona was not that sort of person, and so I dropped her off and couldn’t remember if she said goodbye or not.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  We did not meet up again until I departed a few days later, when we got together briefly at the park. She gave me a hug and cried as if nothing had happened. I told her I would call and write, to which she only nodded in acknowledgment. I met up with Eddie and Jack at the diner later that night. We then got real drunk at the same park I had met Fiona in. They would’ve gone to the city with me if I had asked but I didn’t want to go.

  The following morning one of my father’s associates, Mr. Wang, sent us to the airport with our suitcases. Whatever we could not fit in those four suitcases was given to various family friends. Several of my mom’s colleagues and friends showed up in separate cars to send her off. They came with us to the gate and sat with her. It was the first time I remember seeing my mother show any sort of emotion since the day my father died. She appeared genuinely upset she was leaving them, deeply engrossed in multiple conversations. She even shed a few tears. In the midst of all that nobody really noticed me slipping away to find some food.

  I settled for a burger, and found a quiet place in some corner of some other gate’s waiting area to eat by myself. I took a big bite and began to chew, my hand instinctively reaching toward the table. I glanced down and cursed when I realized I had left my magazines back at my gate. With little else to do, my thoughts began to wander toward why I was feeling the way I did. I don’t know if it was the episode with Fiona or seeing my mom and her friends that made me want to get away, but what was certain was I did not want to see anybody I knew. We were also transferring at LA, and thoughts of Eddie and Jack certainly didn’t help.

  When I looked up I saw a woman sitting directly across from me with a green dress, black stockings, and a green bow in her hair. She was holding a walkman in her left hand, her head bobbing lightly to the beat that must have been emanating from the headset in front of her bow. I walked over to her instinctively and sat down in the empty seat to her right.

  “What are you listening to?” I asked, eyeing the cassette player.

  She looked up and smirked. “Hey, playboy.”

  I frowned and looked off to the side, then swiveled my head to the other side.

  She tsked. “If you’re a real man you’ll at least own up to it. No need to get embarrassed,” she said in Chinese.

  “Who said I won’t own up to it?”

  “Playboy,” she repeated in English, louder this time.

  I forced myself not to flinch.

  “You should probably finish eating.” Her eyelashes dipped and rose slowly, as if they were pointing at my food.

  “You want to eat something?” I offered, lifting the burger slightly upward.

  She laughed out loud. “I ate already, but thanks.”

  “So can I get a name this time?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “Woman as beautiful as yourself, going to keep me up for weeks if you don’t tell me.”

  She sighed. “Tang.”

  “That’s it?”

  “If we have yuanfen and meet again, I’ll tell you the rest of it.”

  “Isn’t it yuanfen that we’re meeting right now?”

  She bobbed her head ambiguously. “Perhaps.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Los Angeles.”

  “I’m stopping by there on the way to Taiwan.”

  “Oh really?” she asked nonchalantly.

  “Are we on the same flight? United?”

  She glanced at the gate, and then frowned. “We can be friends, but we won’t be getting together,” she said firmly.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m too old for you,” she replied.

  “Age hasn’t affected your beauty one bit.”

  She scoffed involuntarily. But that scoff seemed to hide a genuine look of satisfaction. “The package for my brother, you checked it in?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” I said. I had told my mother it was meant for one of my dad’s friends in Taiwan, sent from Brother Tao in New York. My mother didn’t usually want to know nor discuss my father’s business, so she had only nodded absentmindedly. “What’s going on in LA?” I asked Tang.

  “New job,” she said. And she said it in a way that let me know she did not want to speak more on it.

  “United Flight One, Eight...bound for Los Angeles…”

  “Well that’s me,” I said, standing up. I was of course expecting her to do the same, only to be both surprised and disappointed when she didn’t. I sighed and began to walk back toward my gate, tossing the rest of my burger into the trash.

  “Bai Ling,” she said.

  I turned. I must have looked confused, because she followed it with an explanation.

  “For helping me out.”

  “How am I going to find you in L.A.?” I asked.

  “Get some yellow pages and look for Luis’ Tacos in Alhambra.”

  That wasn’t what I was expecting. But beyond that, what day of the week was I supposed to be there? What if she left town? There were all sorts of things I wanted to ask, but I felt like if I asked her these things she was going to give me noncommittal answers.

  “Now boarding all passengers for United Flight One, Eight…”

  “Got it,” I said in the most level tone I could muster. I turned and walked away as slowly as I could so as not to look in a hurry. I was also grinning like a kid in a candy shop. A long time later I realized that before I met Bai Ling that day I was caught up primarily in what had happened before or what was going to come after my return to the homeland. But she pulled me firmly into the moment and helped me forget about everything else — even though that was probably not her intention — just like she had done that night at the karaoke bar.