A special gift
The winner of the RTHK/SCMP Top Story competition, John Smith, describes a memorable encounter in our magical city
John Smith (
[email protected])
Jan 29, 2012
It was like one of those film moments when you want to check behind you before saying, "Me? You're talking to me?"
I was retreating home from the office on a midweek, midlife birthday that I was trying to ignore. Thankfully, no one else had mentioned it, and I was looking to get back home, have a long shower and phone for a pizza.
Separation can make you want to slam the door on the world, and that's the way I was feeling as I crossed the cobbled forecourt of City Hall. I walk past every day, and there's always a scattering of tourists posing for photographs. I occasionally get asked to take the shot, but I was in no mood for photographing tourists this evening. Keep moving, I was thinking. Don't look up and don't hesitate. And that's what I was doing until she leaned forward, fixed me with those laser blue eyes and said: "Can I ask you something?"
How do you resist that? One half of me was saying "I'm sorry, I've got to catch a bus," while the other was countering "of course. I've got all the time you need."
Can I ask you something? I think it was the politeness and the gentleness of her tone, or was it the conspiratorial way she leaned forward? It doesn't matter, unless I want to torture myself for the rest of my life thinking about her, which I don't.
Can I ask you something? Yes, I'm ready for anything.
"What would you like to know?"
"I've only got a few hours before I have to catch the boat back to the mainland. Can you tell me what to see?"
"What to see?" I echoed, buying time while I absorbed the question and searched my brain for an answer.
"Well, the museums will be closed and ..."
"I'm not really into museums."
It was the smile. It was that "This is fun, isn't it?" smile. But why me, of all the people that must have been walking in Central? Well, why not? I didn't look like a gargoyle, and my shirt was ironed. Perhaps this was my lucky day.
"Let me think. Have you been on a tram?"
"No, I've just been walking around the shopping centre." She held up a carrier bag.
"OK, let me show you where to catch one."
I walked with her through flash floods of people rushing towards ferries and buses. When we got to the stop, I told her what to do, but she just stood smiling, as if waiting for something more.
"Shall I come with you?" I said, and the next minute we were on the top deck with the breeze blowing in and the crowds below.
"This is great," she said.
"This is my birthday," I said.
"No!"
As we sat looking out at the shops and market stalls, I wondered if I should have said that. Perhaps it would make her feel uncomfortable. But it didn't make any difference at all. She brushed back her wavy hair and watched in wonder, as though the scene from that tram was the most marvellous thing she had ever witnessed. She was leaning forward again, and every so often she'd turn to me and smile, then return her gaze to the open window and say nothing. I'd been along that street a thousand times but had never seen it the way she was seeing it now. Perhaps the first time had been like that, but never since. Now I felt as though I was seeing it through her eyes of clear turquoise, and the world was a miraculous place.
"This is great," she said. "I'm lucky I bumped into you."
I felt like repeating the words back to her. This could turn out to be the best birthday of my life.
"What's next?" she said when we got off. This time I was ready.
"We'll take a taxi up to the Peak. From there you'll be able to see the whole city in lights."
"Great," she said, and smiled into the distance.
As the red Toyota wound up the narrow road, the thought crossed my mind that I was being taken for more than a taxi ride. I knew nothing about this young woman except that she was in her mid-20s, had been sent over the border by her boss to collect clothing samples for his factory in the mainland, and was enjoying her one evening in Hong Kong at my expense. But so what? She'd rescued me from a birthday in front of the TV with a double cheese and salami, trying to forget that my estranged wife had moved in with a guy who was taller, richer and more handsome than I. What did I have to lose?
"I never imagined there'd be so many trees," she said, and the way she looked at them was as though she was trying to commit each one to memory. I thought then that it was because she had only that one evening to see the city, but now I wonder if she had some idea that her time was short and she wanted to absorb everything around her in the belief that she could take it with her. But that's preposterous.
"I don't even know your name." I'd distracted her from the trees, and she turned and fixed me for a moment.
"Cathy," she said. Then, "What's yours?" with that smile, as though we were playing some guessing game that was the most fun anyone could have. She just had this ability to make me feel like I was the most important person in her whole world.
"Tony," I said, and she gave one long assenting nod of her head, as if that was the best possible answer I could have given her. Then she returned her gaze to the passing scene, glancing back at me for a moment, as if to seek approval. Or was it something else?
For me it was becoming tantalising by now. I couldn't tell what was really on her mind. I began to wonder why a pretty young woman would ask a complete stranger what to do in an unfamiliar city, then jump into a taxi with him and drive up a densely wooded hillside as darkness began to settle. And what were my motives for doing this? Was I content to be a tour guide for the evening or was I desperate to find out if I was still remotely attractive to women?
I couldn't wait for the next part. As we got out of the taxi I said: "This is the best bit."
"Really?"
"Yes. The anticipation." She nodded, as though I had reminded her of some enduring truth. "Wait," I said. "We'll go in here first and let it get completely dark."
I guided her into a shopping centre, and we wandered among the crowd. I'd forgotten that sensation of being in shops with someone at the start of a relationship, when you're insecure about how long you should spend looking at something before the other person gets bored. I was aching to put an arm around her, but I didn't. Now I know that it wouldn't have mattered, but I wished I'd done it.
I said: "I want to buy you something." She seemed surprised and her mouth opened a little. It's funny that I can remember all these details now - things that I didn't think I'd even noticed at the time. Perhaps I'm just making them up. Memory can be creative about filling in the blanks.
"As a souvenir of your visit," I said.
"Thank you," she said, with extra emphasis on the "thank". It was stated so sincerely that I can still hear her saying it.
I bought her a blue pendant on a thin silver chain. It was glass and flashed as it caught the light. I wanted to put it around her neck but the assistant got there first. Cathy must have known how I felt when I bought it for her. I hope she did.
Finally we were ready for the highlight of the evening. We walked out towards the vista point, and the whole city opened up before us like a great open jewel box. At the edge of the vista point, she reached down to grasp the fence rail, then leaned forward as if to embrace the whole fabulous spectacle or be absorbed by it. Perhaps this was the most significant moment of her life. As she looked out over the electric lights I stood transfixed, adoring her. She was perfect.
I had to persuade her to leave that spot. When I mentioned eating, I noticed her grip tighten on the rail. We sat at a table for two, but she didn't eat anything.
"Sorry, I don't feel hungry," she said.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "It's my fault for insisting." I felt foolish then, like someone who has just learned something that has been obvious to everyone for a long time.
She smiled. "I've been so lucky to meet you." An expression of great uncertainty, almost pain, passed across her face. For a moment she seemed disorientated. "Can we go back out and see the view?" she said.
We walked further along this time and found a quiet place among the trees. She reached up and felt the pendant. "Thank you," she said, then turned, once more to take in the fabulous scene.
"Cathy," I said, but it was too late. By then I could see right through her to the trees beyond. She remained a moment longer, becoming more and more transparent until her body stretched, then burst into a thousand tiny stars. They floated around me like little worlds, until one by one they were gone.
For a long time I couldn't move. When I did, it was to pick up the pendant from the damp earth. I looked at it in the palm of my hand and saw Cathy's eyes again. They say eyes are a window to the soul, but that's nonsense, isn't it? Hers were the purest eyes, but she didn't even have a soul.
I turned and stared out over the city. For a while it had seemed like a wondrous place of endless possibilities. Now it had turned its back on me again.
My mobile droned. Absently I pulled it from my pocket.
"Happy birthday!" said the female voice.
"Thanks," I said.
"Did she find you?"
"Yeah, she found me."
"So, did you like your special gift?"
"Yeah, she was great."
"Well, we couldn't think what to get you, and I know things haven't been great recently. So we all put in for her. Aren't they amazing? Jim's workmates got one for his boss. He loved it. Did she look real?"
"Yeah, completely."
"But you guessed, right?"
"Sure. I can still tell the difference between real people and ..."
"Well, listen, I know you didn't want to make a fuss about it this year, but let's do something at the weekend."
"OK."
"I'll call you."
"Right."
"Bye. Have a good one."
I turned and walked hurriedly through the tourist groups. A voice shouted, "Photo! Photo!" but I kept going, away from the people and away from the lights, out along a narrow path to the shelter of a banyan tree, where I bowed my head and wept.
And just to CMA...for some of the "purists" here - I reckon that the protagonist gal was PAID to carry out the charade...and even though there was no actual sex...welll... it was still a "paid experience" - NO?
