Man, Woman, and Meaning Between

"Show me," she said.

--

After dinner I grabbed us a cab. If I was tired, then Anna was out on her feet. A few gin and tonics and a shit load of jet lag.

I went back and forth with the cab driver several times, then we were off.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Whenever I tell a cab driver where to go," I started, "they never understand the first time. I used to think it was bad pronunciation, but I'm starting to believe they're just confused I can talk at all."

"You ever feel like you're in Planet of the Apes?" she asked. "Like, hey! This human can talk."

"That's a deep cut," I said.

"And?"

"Every day."

--

I walked her to the lobby, to the double elevators up.

"What's the plan tomorrow?" I asked.

"You tell me," she said. Her eyes were sleepy. Languid smile.

"Brunch along the Wan Pu River?"

"It's a date," she said.

The elevator doors closed, then she was gone.

I shut my eyes. I was hopeless. Maybe just lonely.

Boundaries. "Don't be that guy," I told myself. Beautiful women were allowed to be good hangs, to have fun and flirt. Reasonable men didn't read too much in to it.

And even if she was in to me, what was the point? We had another day and a half together, two days at most. I had nothing to gain and an incredible amount to lose.

I had a job to do. Show her a good time. Day one started rocky, but I turned it around. Two more to go.

--

The area around the Wan Pu River is known as The Bund. It's an easy metaphor for the city and probably China as a whole. Pointing west, facing toward greater China, the buildings were ancient and grand, built during the colonial period, drug money and horse racing, banking and trade. To the east, across the river, was the financial district. Three of the tallest buildings in the world crowded within a mile of each other, neon signs so large we could read them from across the river.

Anna's hair was up. She wore a thin cardigan over a v-neck shirt. Her shorts hugged her ass and exposed enough of her legs for me to notice. Her sneakers were bright, almost new. I had the suspicion the brand was significant, but it was lost on me.

We walked along the river, the wind occasionally picking up, drudging up cold mist and the salty smell of the ocean. It was early, and the sun hadn't broken through the cloud cover. Even so, there were already tourists wandering on the raised walkway.

The Bund extended miles in either direction. We were wandering south on our way to brunch, in no particular hurry.

Anna nudged me, then nodded at a pair of young Chinese women ahead of us, one wearing a shirt that said, "An 11 is a 10 that swallows."

"That's a very unfortunate t-shirt," I said.

"Do you think she knows?"

"Probably not," I said.

"And the person who sold it... was it a prank?"

I had no idea. I didn't feel responsible, but it still felt wrong. This young woman, maybe still in high school, was the butt of a joke. An American joke.

"One second," I said.

I broke away from Anna and approached the girls. This was going to be awkward.

"Excuse me!" I said in Mandarin. "Young woman."

They turned to look at me, not embarrassed, but uncomfortable. It was about to get worse.

"You right now. Clothes speak English. What do they say?" I said in Mandarin.

The girl eyed me with suspicion. "I don't know," she replied. "What does it say?"

I took a deep breath. I certainly didn't have the vocabulary for this, and conveying half the idea incorrectly would make it worse.

"It says. You are bad girl. A joke. Bad love. American men misunderstand," I tried.

"Really?" she looked embarrassed.

The friend laughed at her, followed by a rapid burst of Mandarin I couldn't quite catch, something about sex and boys and understanding. The girl with the obscene t-shirt punched her friend on the arm.

She turned to me, her face red. "Thank you."

I nodded, then turned to find Anna. She was already close, watching the whole thing. We started again toward the restaurant.

"That was awkward," I said.

"Don't know the Chinese word for blowjob?"

I turned to Anna. She was smiling at me, enjoying making me uncomfortable.

"Yeah. No," I said. I looked away from Anna, across the Wan Pu River, to the fog covered skyscrapers. "I just... if she didn't know, I didn't want--"

"It was sweet," she said.

--

We ate eggs Benedict on a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Bund. Smoked salmon and poached eggs. Black coffee. The breeze coming off the river was actually cold. We should have gone inside, but we suffered through it. The view was too good.

We watched street vendors ply their trade along the river, selling cheap trinkets or caricatures. The vendors would run away or hide their goods when a wandering police officer got near. From up high, it was an absurd dance.

I watched Anna's face more than the spectacle below.

"You've done this before," I said.

"What's that?" Anna turned to me. She hugged her coffee cup with both hands, breathing in the steam.

"Buying a foreign company," I said.

"Auditing. It's not my money. How'd you know?"

"Your jet lag strategy. And Dutch," I said.

"Oh yeah," she said.

"And also... people who travel are different," I said.

"How so?"

"You aren't trying to project America on to your experience," I said. "You just take everything in, accepting it for what it is. In the moment, I guess."

"You think that's a symptom of travel?"

I nodded. She took a sip. Anna watched me for a moment. Hesitated.

"It could just be my personality," she said. "You don't seem very... in the moment."

It felt like an insult.

"I'm sorry--"

"No it's fine," I said. "More than fine. It's true. How'd you know?"

"Don't worry about it," Anna said. "Some things you did that were... thoughtful."

She drank her coffee.

"It's much easier to prevent a problem than clean it up," I said. "I call it my 'Quality Brain.' I often find myself living in the future, anticipating problems."

"That's why you like travel," Anna said.

"How's that?" I asked. It was true I did like travel. She sounded confident, but I didn't see the connection.

"I'm going to ask you a question," she said, "and I don't want you to find the perfect answer, I want you to find a good answer as fast as you can. Got it?"

I nodded.

"When was the last time you were happy?"

My heart started racing. "That's a difficult--"

"Don't think. Speak," she said.

So I did, the first thing that popped in my brain.

"A few months ago, my coworker visited Shanghai. She asked me to take her to a lesbian bar. I didn't know... by the time I found one, it was late, empty, no Chinese girls for her to meet. We sat for a round, and eventually the owner found us, a forty year old Chinese woman. She sat with us for like three hours, telling us her life, what it was like to be a gay woman in China, how her family didn't understand, how her friends asked if her girlfriend was her son."

Maybe happy was the wrong word, but it was the first thing that had popped in my head. Anna watched me.

"That may have been a bad example," I said.

"Why did you pick it?"

"It's been on my mind," I said. "Maybe poignant is a better word, but I also think... How could an American... what are the chances that a straight white American would ever get to experience that? Maybe not happy. Grateful."

"When she was talking, what were you thinking about?"

"Her life," I said.

"How about the future?"

Then I found her point. I did an inventory of the "best moments of my life." So many of them, almost all of them occurred while traveling, but that wasn't the common theme. The moments were unscripted, organic, quirky weird moments in life I could never have predicted, but demanded my full attention. No future. Only now.

Anna was right.

"That is... uh," I started, "very insightful."

I studied her. Expressive brown eyes, a faint smattering of freckles across her nose that I hadn't noticed before, glossy pink lips that matched her fingernails.

"You're pretty smart," I said. I meant it as an understated compliment.

"Just keep it between us," she said. "It's easier to investigate when they don't see you coming."

Anna may not have been joking.

We wrapped up brunch, tested our tired feet, and prepared for more.

"What now?" Anna asked.

"I promised to show you everything."

"You can deliver on that?"

"I believe I can."

--

We walked back to People's Square, the "Central Park" of Shanghai, figuratively and literally. It's a giant common area of rolling hills and light woods.

I bought tickets to the Shanghai Municipal Museum, a four story building in the corner of the park, next to the opera house.

"I know this sounds lame, but it isn't," I said. I handed Anna her ticket.

"I trust you," she said.

The interior was dark and cool, a metal detector and security guard into a giftshop then info display. I took Anna around the edges, avoiding all of the first floor and cutting to the escalators going up.

"We're going to the top first," I said.

We rode multiple long escalators until we arrived on the fourth floor.

Unlike the other areas, the fourth floor is one single, giant room. There were metal walkways around the edges, a balcony above us. The edges of the room were dark, ceding all control to the giant spotlight on the middle.

"Watch your step," I said. I led her to the closest walkway.

Below us was a perfect replica of Shanghai in miniature, each skyscraper no more than three inches tall. Every building, every park, every street was perfectly replicated. From the new money skyscrapers of Pudong to the hundred year old colonial buildings of the French Concession.

As we walked around, I tried to fill in gaps for Anna, pointing out major landmarks, trying to give her the perspective to navigate the city on her own.

I pointed out the neon blue light of her hotel, then east to Jing'An Temple. Then People's Square and this museum. The JW Marriot on the west side of the park, glowing purple like a wizard's tower, then east, to the Wan Pu River and the Bund. The bottle opener shape of the Financial Center and the art-deco Jin Mao tower.

"The thing I love about Shanghai," I said, "is you don't even need Mandarin. As long as you can see, you can never truly be lost. There is always a landmark to guide you home."

I realized I was babbling. I looked down at Anna. Her eyes weren't on the display. They were on me.

"You make a very persuasive argument..."

"Yeah?" Our lips were so close.

My heart was pounding. I saw everything that could go wrong if I kissed her, outrage or hurt feelings. Best case was a wistful moment then a sharp goodbye.

Let it go, I told myself.

"I'll show you the balcony," I said. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them from shaking.

What the fuck was I doing? I was having a Schroedinger's cat moment. I was either a goddamn idiot for not kissing this beautiful, intelligent, magnetic woman or a complete asshole for assuming she wanted to kiss me. The safest option was to be a professional. Anna deserved a tour guide that wasn't trying to fuck her.

"Sure," she said.

--

We went our separate ways after lunch, with plans to regroup for dinner. I spent most of the afternoon thinking about Anna, that moment in the museum when our lips were close, then her intelligent eyes looking over a coffee mug at breakfast, followed by full breasts in a floral shirt and her tight ass on an escalator.

Fuck.

And it wasn't just lust. It was worse than that. I needed another evening with her. No expectations, only open ended desire to see her again.

As muddled as my thinking was, I was self aware enough to know I was in trouble. I should have called in sick. I spent the afternoon picking through my wardrobe instead.

--

I returned to the hotel at dusk, a little early, pacing around the lobby waiting for Anna.

I was watching the elevator when she stepped out. Her impossible beauty sent my heart racing even as I worked to process the detail. She wore a dark green dress with metallic accents. It hugged her breasts and hips while extending past her knees. The dress had a slit up the side, releasing tension and exposing leg up to her thigh. Her shoes were no longer practical, long black heels drawing attention to her legs.

Anna's smile looked nervous.

"Hi," she said. Had I ever noticed her being nervous?

Her makeup was subdued but still striking, lips a little more red, eyes a little darker. Anna's hair was up again, this time in an elaborate braid, showing off the elegant curve of her neck. She carried a jacket and a small purse.

I took a moment to process her beauty.

"Mark?"

"Shanghai may not have a restaurant nice enough for you... for that outfit," I said.

She flashed a brilliant smile. "But you'll try?"

"I'll do my very best," I said.

--

We took a cab across town, to the Jin Mao tower in Pudong. I tried to keep my eyes off of her, away from her breasts or legs, away from her brown eyes and easy smile. Shanghai after dark was different, LED lights on the highway, neon signs everywhere. It started to drizzle as we sat in traffic.

I watched Anna watch the city. There were moments when her beauty hit me so hard, it felt difficult to breathe.

"What is that building?" Anna asked.

She turned to me, saw my face, saw me watching her. Anna smiled. I'm not so sure I ever answered her.

--

We drove through a tunnel under the river to Pudong, to the Jin Mao Tower. We ate high end sushi on the 86th floor while the storm rolled through.

We clinked our glasses together as Anna toasted, "To a lovely weekend."

The saki was warm, mildly sweet with a hard bite. Anna was wearing a stylish jacket over her dress, downgrading her beauty from breathtaking to merely painful.

I had a sad realization. There was something between us. Not just physical attraction. She was fun and insightful. Did she use her beauty as camouflage? I didn't know, but just the uncertainty was fascinating.

But no matter what happened tonight, she would be gone tomorrow evening, and I'd be in America directly after.

"Thinking about the future?" Anna asked.

She extended a delicate hand across the table. I took it and nodded.

"You gotta stop doing that," she said.

"I know," I said.

She stared out the window while I studied her.

"So where do you actually live?" Anna asked, "The US or China?"

"Neither?" I said. "Kind of in between countries at the moment."

"Is that..." she paused. "How is that going?"

I ran my eyes across her body and sighed.

"I'm not so sure I know any more," I said. "Strange. Difficult. I had a moment, a kind of realization that there is no point in buying things, in material possessions at all. What's the benefit of a nice car if I'm never home to drive it?"

"How about people?" she asked.

I didn't answer her. Had I been mostly fine or just oblivious? Since Anna arrived, the loneliness had become painfully acute.

"How about your life in America?" I said instead.

"Oh, I have a nice car," she said.

"Anything else?" I asked.

Anna looked out the window. There was a flash in the clouds.

"You see that?" she asked.

"Anna?" I needed to know about her life in America. No wedding ring, but that didn't mean a whole lot.

Her eyes came back to mine. "Not any more," she said. "Travel is... hard on relationships. Not everyone gets it."

--

We did follow up drinks at Cloud 9, once the highest bar in the world. Neither one of us needed more liquor, but it felt like a mandatory inclusion while in Shanghai.

It wasn't even nine o'clock, but Anna was fading fast. Day two of jet lag is usually the worst. She was a real trooper just to be awake. When I saw her eyelids drooping, I got the check, ignoring her protests to "stay up just a little longer."

The line for a taxi was backed up, rain putting stress on the whole transportation network. We waited a half hour for a car.

"Can't we just take the subway?" Anna asked. She was drunk, tired, leaning against me, her breasts pressed against my chest. My arm was around her, holding her steady more than showing affection.

"That dress is beautiful..." I said.

Anna smiled up at me.

"But you can't wear that on the subway, not in the rain."

She frowned. "Fine."

It took another hour to cross the city. Anna wrapped her arm around mine and rested her head on my shoulder. She slept. How many more hours would we have together? I ran through tomorrow's theoretical agenda. Maybe sixteen? Not enough.

--

I delivered her to the double elevators again. Anna carried her shoes, her elbow locked against mine, and even still she felt shaky. She was either incredibly drunk or jet lagged, so much that she struggled to walk.

"You can make it up by yourself?" I asked. I hung in the moment, terrified that she would ask me up, not sure how I would answer.

"Yeah," she said, "but that doesn't mean I want to."

My heart was pounding. I believed she wanted me. Anna was obviously beautiful, and there was real chemistry between. Was she this wonderful with everyone or just with me? It didn't matter. She was here now. Behind her tired eyes I saw desire.

I was desperate for Anna... but not like this.

"Goodnight Anna," I said. It was the right thing to do, but it hurt like hell, emotional pain twisting in my gut.

She nodded, then disappeared behind steel elevator doors.

Fuck me. I sighed.

For good or for bad, I had survived. I would complete my assignment. A wonderful weekend. No one hurt except me. I would live.

--

We met again for breakfast. Anna looked as bright eyed as ever. The night before had been more jet lag than alcohol.

We rode the subway to the French Concession. Anna had her hair down. She wore a v-neck shirt that exposed a fun amount of cleavage along with skin tight black leggings that showed off the contours of her ass and thighs.

We had a breakfast of black coffee and quiche, then we went wandering. The sexual tension from the previous evening seemed subdued. I still found her immensely attractive, but there was now an unspoken understanding. Whatever seemed destined to happen between us should have occurred last night. A critical window had been missed. We were safe. Things were now just... comfortable.

The neighborhoods of the French Concession feel old. The garish neon signs that are so typical of Shanghai are missing. The sun threatened to burn through the cloud cover as we wandered under sycamore trees that jutted from the sidewalk along the near infinite rows of small shops

"After the opium war, sections of Shanghai were seeded to foreign countries, including France," I said. "There's a story, maybe apocryphal, about a sign that read 'No Dogs or Chinese."

"So the French Concession," Anna said, broadly gesturing to the sprawling neighborhood.

"Yeah."

As we walked, Anna bumped her shoulder against mine, playful. She reached her small hand out, and I took it. We wandered around the French Concession like a couple of teenagers in love. When I looked in her eyes, I felt attraction so sharp that it hurt. We had so little time, not even a full day. Hours.

Even before noon it was humid, and when the sun finally broke through it became hot. We stopped at a "Bier Garten" nominally for lunch, but mostly just to get off our feet. The restaurant was tucked behind layers of green shrubs and small trees, a small oasis in a busy neighborhood.

We sat outside, under a wide umbrella in the shade. Our waitress was German. The neighborhood around us felt old, a hundred years or more with colonial vibes. The skyscrapers that surrounded us were hidden behind foliage and old buildings. We could see the balcony of an alabaster mansion through the trees. It could have been an old hotel or even a re-purposed embassy.