Three Loves Seven, Chapter 22, Part 10 - "Justice is served (dinner), but first she gets a bath"

Dear Gentle Readers,

We are almost done with this day that has had so much happen in it, but not quite. We will finish it off (in two maybe three parts) with a change in point of view. You could figure this out from context, but it's Fei/Faye's observation once she gets home from work with her mother. Clete has prepared a small surprise.

If your imagination seems to be telling you that Clete is taking a lot of liberty in fondling Princess Qi in inappropriate ways, I will neither deny nor confirm your imagination's suspicions. Do remember that although he's a longtime bachelor, he DID used to be married and a married men's hands remember how to do a lot of things without the prompting of the brain just because they are oft-repeated movements, and this sometimes gets them in trouble.

Fei/Faye, being quite virginal, may be misinterpreting things quite differently that what you would be seeing. Don't worry about Faye being a late blooming misfit. I predict that if and when she gets shipped off to college (it does not happen in this book), she will catch up to her peers pretty quickly.

In any case, the story continues ...

Personal Notes (collected by the Guardian of History from the Second Qilin Princess)

U.S. Time:           Friday, August 17, 2012
Island Time:        Dragon, Month 7, Day 1, Xingqi 5, New Moon

Mother and I returned home from North Island where we had spent much of the day stripping and sculpting the bark of our evergreens for resin harvest. Aunt Lian was tending to slow fires that we use to heat and slow cook the resin in the evaporators, from which we will extract turpentine. It is so tiring. I felt really bad for mother who seems to have much less stamina these days. She never likes to show weakness in front of her peers, so she just bore the pain that I knew she was feeling. As we made our way back home, she had to stop several times and push her spine against a tree trunk to give her some relief.

As we entered the south gate, Dr. Wong was waiting there for us. He had set up one of the large galvanized steel tubs that is used for making large amounts of mush for livestock feed as a bath. He put together some makeshift stands on which the tub was set. He had cleaned it out and filled it with water he had been keeping hot with slow-burning charcoal burners underneath.

     “Your Honor, you are late.”

     “What is this?”

     “It’s a bath. Just for you.”

     “I told you I don’t take baths …”

     “The water is pH 8.8. I’ve been testing it.”

     “What?”

     “I’m an engineer, petroleum. Which means I’m pretty good at chemistry. And you did give me a rough idea of your specs. Get in. You look tired. I’ll even wash you. You just need to lie there and take it. Faye you get second dip after we’re done.”

     “But this water … it’s from the drinking system isn’t it? … it’s going to …”

     “Qi? I know what I’m doing. Just shut up and test it with your goddamned forearm.”

Mother closed her eyes and cringed as she put her arm into the water. The stress on her face turned to delight as she found it felt good. All the while, Dr. Wong was removing her working clothes. When he saw her smile, without asking her he just picked her up like as if she weighed nothing, and gently set her in the water, placing a rolled cloth behind her neck so that she could lie back in comfort.

He started to massage her shoulders and neck, and mother just lay there quietly accepting it. No, I take that back. She was enjoying it. I felt like I was intruding. Like I was watching something I should not see. I don’t know why. It was so tender, and yet almost obscene.

     “How do you know to touch me like this?”

     “My Ex used to bathe and massage me after a hard day’s work at the school. I was reminded of that earlier.”

     “Ex?”

     “Ex-wife. First time she did it I was way uncomfortable with it. She was very old-fashioned that way. I think wives would wash their husbands in the culture she grew up in. Seemed too servile a thing to me for a person to do for another person, but she told me she was doing herself a favor--that she knew to her satisfaction exactly how clean I was and where.”

     “Where?”

     “I’m not going say anything more about that. She said the main benefit was that it put me in a good mood.”

     “So you’re trying to put me in a good mood?”

     “Is it working?”

     “I’ll tell you when you’re done. So you think I’m dirty then?”

     “You reek of pine resin. I’m doing myself a favor.”

     “Speaking about doing yourself a real favor, you certainly have been spending disproportionate attention to handling my breasts.”

     “There’s a lot of dead skin on your nipples. Don’t you ever scrub? And I think you’re doing yourself a lot of flattery. Do you see me getting out the camera?”

     “Now your hands are moving much too confidently at my crotch.”

     “Lot of detritus accumulated there too. That oil you wash yourself with only accumulates grit and grime. You were way overdue for this.”

     “Oh! Back off there. That tickles! Gently, gently, gently.”

     “Back in America, we call this ‘working out at the Y.’”

     “Explain.”

     “Eh, I don’t think I will. But my Ex did say I was pretty good at pushing her ‘button.’”

     “You need to stop talking about this Ex person and concentrate on me. You know, Lum is good at massage too, but your fingers are so STRONG and your palms are so much larger. Next, you work on the backs of my knees, then the ankles, and lots of time on the soles of my feet.”

     “Yes Mistress.”

They looked like they were having so much fun. So I asked, “Is Professor Wong going to bathe me next?” They both responded, loudly, “NO.” How unfair. They just ignored me and went on.

     “The Soul Birds, the civets, the pangolin …”

     “All fed. Jook is on simmer for all of us as soon as we’re done here.”

     “How did you make the water nice for me?”

     “I packed a lot of mineral additives here. I haven’t had to use them since your drinking water is so good here. I just measured in a lot into today’s rainbarrel catch until I got a nice strong alkaline reading. I’ve never met anyone with such pronounced sensitivity. You ARE a fuckin’ goddamned princess. Don’t you ever lose a pea under your mattress. You’ll be sorry. Of course, I don’t know why I’m saying that to a girl who keeps lice on her head as pets.”

     “I hope you don’t think this will persuade me into shortening your sentence …”

     “According to my watch, I’ve paid my debt to society.”

     “What watch? You are mine until I’ve officially released you. Which now may be never. You can be useful it seems. It just took me a while to find out how.”

     “As soon as I’ve served the after-dinner mints, I’m outta here. I know my rights. You know, you got a LOT of bumps on your skin, especially in the pubic areas. Probably an immune deficiency. We gotta get you to a dermatologist. But I bet the culprit will be personal hygiene.”

     “Please. Don’t start.”

     “It STARTS with you putting on clothes young lady. Your healthiest, un-sunburned parts are where you’ve been covered with this dried-out opaque goop I’ve been washing off. What is it? Some kind of island-voodoo-witch-doctor sunscreen?”

     “It’s good right? Fei made this last batch up. We make it from tree bark. It protects the skin from the sun and cool off hot or burned skin. So, if you are not trying put me in a good mood, what is your motivation?”

     “I figure if I’ve got you isolated here and talking, you can’t come up with any more annoying ways to make my life miserable.”

     “Is that ALL that I am to you? An annoyance?”

     “It’s a beginning. We’ve only just started to get to know one another. These things take time. I know married couples who have developed to pure hatred and that took them decades.”

     “You have such warped viewpoints. You have learned nothing in your time with me. By the way, do not quit your teaching job. Your personal service manner is awful. You’ll never make it as a professional bath attendant, no matter how strong your hands are.”

They just kept going on like that, saying very obvious things to each other in the silliest of ways. I really did not understand that at all. Dr. Wong was always so straightforward, unfiltered, and rude. I think Mother finally learned not to take him seriously.

When it was time to sup, I had to drag Wen (at Dr. Wong’s insistence) to our dinner table to join us. She was acting very odd, almost embarrassed, not wanting to say word, avoiding eye contact with all of us, especially Dr. Wong. Mother noticed this behavior and called her out on it.

     “Wen! Why are you holding your tongue so?”

     “I’m sorry Auntie. I have nothing to say.”

     “It’s OK Gwen,” said Dr. Wong. “Just so you two know, she dropped by earlier today and we got into something of an argument, but it’s all the past now. Gwen, shall we just move on?”

     “R…REALLY Dr. Wong? Are you serious? I mean …”

     “It’s fine. I’m OK. Just don’t do it again.”

     “Thank you thank you thank you thank you …” She got up for the table, bowed and kept bouncing her forehead on the ground.

     “Wen!” Mother said. “Why are you carrying on like this? It’s very unseemly for a Princess to act like that to anyone but her betters. Your mother would be ashamed. I am ashamed for her.”

     “Wen, that must have been SOME argument! I’m glad that’s settled,” I said, wanting to move it on myself. “Dr. Wong, since this is your last day here, I have been dying to ask you this question.”

     “Oh?”

     “Do you think a dog has the Buddha nature?”

     “FEI!” scolded Mother. “This is neither time nor place.”

     “Why do you ask?” asked Dr. Wong.

     “I’m a student right? And a student asks questions.”

     “You know that I am a Christian right? Not a Buddhist?”

     “I think I might remember you saying something like that.”

     “Take some intellectual responsibility young lady! I don’t put up with pussy-footing bullshit from my students.”

     “I’m sorry. I do remember.”

     “That's more like it. Then you’ll probably be surprised to know that I know the story you are quoting. And you know my take on it?”

     “I guess you’ll tell me?”

     “Damn right. That writer was a teacher. And I know about being a teacher. The student who asked that question was a smart-asshole who thought he was going to hijack the logic when the teacher would answer “Yes,” because, while I am not a Buddhist, I do know that Lesson #1 for all Buddhists is that the Buddha nature is in everything,  the teacher knows the student knows the answer and is about go on and on about stuff like: ‘Does the Buddha sniff asses? Does the Buddha bite strangers? How about Buddha’s taking a piss and a shit whenever and wherever he happens to be? Or is the Buddha an ingratiating pushover to anyone who offers a bowl of food?’ But that teacher did not take that bait. He just shut him down and told him to define the concept of ‘negation,’ which is like your drill sergeant telling to drop down and give me 200 push-ups. How does any belief system encompass the concept of its own non-existence? That’s a pretty valid and provocative question. Let me ask you if that story provided an answer?”

     “I don’t think it did. The teacher just said ‘not.’”

     “What do you think that means?”

     “I don’t know. None of us could come up with anything.”

     “I think that teacher would not take that student’s argument bait. He just shut him down and told him to define the concept of ‘negation,’ which is like your drill sergeant telling to drop down and give me 200 push-ups. But at the same time, the teacher really asked, ‘How does any belief system encompass the concept of its own non-existence?’ That’s a pretty valid and provocative question. So the real answer is ‘Keep working on it.’ That’s the answer to all koans isn’t it? Run 200 mental laps until exhausted? Then do it again. It's not about solutions? The real point is inquiry?”

     “Oh.”

     “You sound disappointed.”

     “Nobody here has come up with a good answer. Yours actually makes some sense.”

     “It’s just my thought. I’ve often thought that some Buddhist mindsets are very compatible with scientific inquiry. That there is a one-ness that we are trying to define. But let’s save that for class.”

     “Don’t save it,” said Mother. “I would like to hear.” But the professor shook his head and only smiled at her.

     “You were you hoping I would insult your mother in her own house and you’d get to watch the fireworks between us, weren’t you.”

     “Ling says it’s the funniest thing when you infuriate and insult Auntie Lee and make her yell at you. I was kind of hoping … Mother does take her religion very seriously after all.”

     “That is terrible!” said Mother.

     “But he’s been offending you almost constantly since he’s been here hasn’t he?” I said.

     “That’s because I was a prisoner. Tonight I am a guest. So, sorry, no fireworks.”

     “Aw.”

     “But while we are on that topic and since I am here, Qi, I would like to discuss your daughter’s schoolwork and her progress and what she needs to work on.”

This was an unexpected and unwanted development in the conversation. I had done poorly and backslid on the last two preliminary tests and I did NOT want Mother to dwell on that. I had to think fast.

     “Oh, but Dr. Wong,” I said. “Since you’re not a prisoner anymore, why are you still dressed as a prisoner in that underwear?”

     “Your mother prefers it. And I don’t know where she hid my clothes.”

     “That reminds me. Since your are now a freeman, let me go get you something!”

I hurried away from the table to fetch his phone.

     “Your phone keeps vibrating and flashing. I’ve been keeping it plugged in and it’s been recharging, but I wonder if someone is trying to get ahold of you?”

     “One hundred and fifty messages! Holy shit! Ladies, do you mind if I call this … person?”

As the Professor would say, ‘Mission accomplished.’ His attention was diverted and I avoided a stern lecture from my Mother. All of those messages were from one woman, but it was not his secretary. I could tell it was a California phone number with a name readout—one PROF LAURA KIMURA. She seems a very insistent person. I decided to try to see if we could hear something even more interesting.

     “And would you put the call on speaker phone too please?” I asked.

     “Speaker? Why?”

     “I think it would be educational for Gwen and me to hear another native English speaker, don’t you?”

     “I suppose. It’s one of my colleagues at the university. It’s probably just campus politics she’s concerned about. She sits on a lot of committees. Some chair probably resigned and she probably has a tactical question. For faculty all that crap is about securing and protecting funding and turf. It’s all-out war in the ivory tower. I’m safe to talk to since I’m non-tenure track. I’m sure it will bore you to death.”

     “I really doubt that Dr. Wong.”

I saw Mother’s eyes open up at the word “she.” I knew that is how she would respond, AND that she would be listening as carefully as I was. This woman, Professor Kimura, who was leaving all these messages, was his equal—not that subordinate of his named Sally--she only left 20 messages.

© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Way, all rights reserved.