got to know where this is going?”
“You once said that I was a two-time loser. Married twice, divorced twice. I don’t plan on being a three-time loser. There’s nothing further from my mind than getting married again,” he said, neither smiling nor laughing. “If you have problems with that, I suggest you move out. I suggest you move on with your life. Go ahead, move overseas. See if life is better in the States. I plan on staying here. The future for me is China.”
single, silent tear traced its way down Heng’s cheek. “If you feel that way.”
“That’s the way I’ve always felt. I never once gave you any indication I felt otherwise. Not once have I ever told you that I wanted to settle down and get married again. If that’s what you want, you got the wrong fella.”
“Maybe, I should move out,” she said. She wiped the tear away.
“Yes, maybe you should.”
Silent tears fell again later as she packed her bags. She would keep the dresses that Rosenthal had bought for her. She would keep everything he had given her. She was sad, but she was not despondent. In her heart of hearts, she knew the relationship would come down to this. As she left, carrying her three suitcases of clothes or other personal items, Rosenthal sat in the living room of his apartment watching a DVD movie on his large screen television set. It was a Three Stooges movie that he watched every few weeks. Not looking up as she left, he giggled as one of the stooges took a pratfall. No matter how many times he had seen the movie, the pratfall always made him laugh. He didn’t say good-bye as she closed the door for the last time.
Week followed week. She once again was on her own. That summer, there was not as much precipitation in Shanghai as the previous summer. The heat was oppressive. The humidity was unbearable. The day following her departure from Rosenthal’s apartment, she pulled out her typewriter from the top shelf in her bedroom closet in her apartment. She updated it and sent it in to the recruiting company. In July, she received a letter stating that she had been accepted at one of the nursing positions in the county hospital in Bakersfield. She gave her two week’s notice to Xiao Chen and MCI. On the tenth of August, she boarded an Air China Boeing 747 for Los Angeles. From there, she would take a commuter flight to Bakersfield. Sipping a glass of red wine, she flipped through the pages of some Chinese women’s magazine. Never had she felt so alone; never had she felt so free.
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