Issuu

Written by 傑森龍 GS Jackson Taken from soulparking.com/blogs/2010/01/4

The Phone Call (Kathmandu, Nepal) I woke up looking at the phone beside my bed. I had hardly slept – tossed and turned – working out the words I was going to say and her reactions – good and bad. Now I was laying face down on a foreign bed with my head buried into a unfamiliar pillow. There was no clock in the room. I looked outside and saw the morning mist enshrouding the land and my balcony. So I knew it was morning and probably that it was early. But I had no idea what time it was. The time difference between Nepal and Hong Kong was two hours and fifteen minutes. It was almost like setting your alarm ahead to wake you before an important event. So you would wake up feeling late and you would scramble to get a shower, clothes on, and arrive to only find you were an hour early. Before going to bed I had written out her phone number on the hotel stationary beside the phone. I sat up on the bed and thought about reaching over, grabbing the phone, and just calling the number to get it over with. “No,” I said aloud. “Exercises first.” And instead I reached over and grabbed the remote control to my hotel room’s flat screen television. CNN came on right away and they were reporting on the devastation of the Haitian earthquake. As Anderson Cooper reported, I did my pushups and situps – thinking about the words I was about to say. And again, imagining the words she was going to say back to me. When finished and breathing hard, I went to the bathroom to shave and looked at myself in the mirror. “You sure you want to do this?” I asked as I used my Gillette to slide across my stubble. Then I couldn’t take it anymore. After rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth with bottled water from the mini bar, I walked straight to the phone by my bed and picked it up. I read the directions on how to get an outside number and punched in the number I had written down. I then quickly turned around and hit mute on the remote. The phone seemed to ring forever. Then suddenly someone answered. “Namaste!” “Hello? Namaste!” I tried to figure out the voice. It sounded like her. “Hey, its Gary.” The voice pulled the receiver off her mouth and spoke Nepalese to someone. Another voice spoke in Nepalese back. And then someone took the phone. “Hello?”

And it was her voice. And for me time seemed to stand still. All the hours of preparing what I was going to say – came down to this. “Hey, its me. It’s Gary.” I heard her laugh unbelievably. “Oh my god. Where are you? How did you get this number?” I smiled on the phone. “That’s a secret.” “I am going to kill Arati.” She said. “Where are you?” “I am here.” “Here? Where is here? You mean Kathmandu?” “I knew this might be the only chance I get to see you.” She laughed again. “Oh my god,” she repeated. “Yes, I am going to be moving away from Hong Kong when I get back. And I am not sure when I am going back.” “Right, that’s why I am here. I came to get rid of this fantasy of us. I wanted to spend time to get to know the real you. You to get to know the real me. I am tired of the hyper version of each other that we know when we are in Hong Kong. Here because you are staying with your parents – we can talk. Really talk.” She was quiet. “Look, I am very, very busy. I don’t have time to show you around. I have to help my family.” “I know, I know. I am not asking for you to show me around. I am here to help. I am here to work. And while I am helping you and your family – we can talk.” She blew out a breath. “I am here for my family. I don’t have time for anything else.” I swallowed. “I understand.” “Do you? Look, there is nothing wrong with you. If back in Hong Kong, we can talk. But here I have things I need to get done. And why would you do this? Why would you come all the way to Kathmandu to talk?” “Well they say fashions come and go, but stalking never goes out of style.” She laughed. “That’s one of my new standup comedy bits.”

“I can tell.” “Look, I came here to put it out there – I am serious.” She laughed. “I know you are serious. I can tell it in your poetry. And I can tell it in everything that you write. You didn’t have to fly here to prove it.” “Well I felt I should.” “You didn’t have to.” The line went quiet and I just stood there breathing in my underwear. “I am very busy. I am sorry. I have so much to think about. And I can’t think about this too.” I shrugged. “Sure. Okay. No worries. I won’t bother you. Besides, I came here also to write and to relax.” “I am sorry.” She said again. “Don’t apologize. I understand.” And I stood there with my head reeling and heart pounding. “But I am staying at the Hotel Himalaya if you find some time. If you need someone to help or talk to…” She interrupted. “I won’t have time.” “Sure okay.” And I changed the phone to my other ear. “Well I will see you around.” “Okay.” She said. And we hung up at the same time. I stood there trying to figure out what to do next. -I ate breakfast looking vacantly out the window at the grounds of the hotel. I could see the mist was lifting and in the distance the Himalayas stood majestically, faintly – and behind those – were the snow capped mountains of the larger peaks. As I slurped the milk from my cereal bowl, I thought about how everyone had told me to “follow my heart.” And I thought, did everyone who told me to follow my heart – had they not followed their own advice? What do you do – when you follow your heart only

to arrive to the destination that you had not planned? Or what if your heart leads you to a dead end? And hell, what does a heart know? The heart just pumps blood. I should have followed my head. Maybe I should have just followed my penis. But suddenly I felt isolated – alone. Here I was stuck between India and Tibet – in a country I knew no one – chasing a woman who was too busy folding clothes to talk to me. I guess this is what I deserved. I had done the same to other women. Karma had gotten me back. For all the broken hearts I had left. Maybe she was karma incarnate. She was like those suicide bombers – on all the women who I dated in the past – there was a hero picture of her in their rooms worshipping her for the service she did for woman kind. After breakfast I sat in the lobby of the hotel and tried to write. Nothing came. I just sat there staring at a blank Microsoft Word document. I walked back to my room and tried to listen to the music from my iPod shuffle while sitting on the balcony of my hotel room. The mist was gone and the sun was out and their was blue sky. The winds whipping down from the Himalayas – chilled me to the bone. “I can’t stay here,” I finally said aloud. I went back inside and took my Blackberry which was getting spotty reception – called Marco Polo and changed my flight to leave that night. I then took a pen and a piece of paper and wrote the following poem: Pheri bhetaunla I hope we meet again Today wasn’t the day And this place wasn’t the place Maybe this life is not the life So I will now disappear Back to the place before you knew I existed I will live my life And you will live yours Unaffected In all the possibilities Of the universe Curving out Bending back on itself Where out of nothing Light begets life

Maybe our time will come In another today I hope we meet again Pheri bhetaunla I then folded it and put it in a Hotel Himalaya envelope. I wrote on the front – TO BE GIVEN TO – and her full name. I then got on the internet and emailed Eve. I apologized for just showing up. But I wished her the best and said I was flying out that night. But if she got any time, I left her a poem at the front desk. And then I checked my Facebook – like a routine. I had a message from Sophia. She asked me if I was okay. Sophia wished me good luck in Nepal and said she was always available as a friend. If things didn’t work out in Nepal, maybe we could try again. I felt then that maybe I had chosen wrong. Following my heart had been horrible advice. My Blackberry finally got a signal – and I got an SMS from Isra. She gave me the weather report of Mui Wo – and I laughed. “It’s cold and windy here.” I replied back to her telling her that it was also cold and windy here in Kathmandu. I then through several attempts I get into my Gmail account. And there was an email from Eve. “Are you angry with me? I didn’t ask you to come. I have so much to think about. I have many decisions to make. And I can’t let my feelings for you cloud my future. But I am flattered that you showed up. Have a safe flight back to Hong Kong.” I started a reply that read, “That’s why I am here. I am here to help. I am here to talk to help you with your decisions. I am here to support you.” But then I stopped typing. I re-read what I had written and instantly I deleted my reply and her email. I then went through my email inbox and deleted all her emails. I sat there and looked at my clean inbox. That’s when my hotel room phone rang. I stood up and answered it. “Hello?” “Why are you angry?” Eve asked. “What? I mean I should be angry. But I am more sad than angry. Felt like I wasted my time. Wasted my time for three years. Waiting for someone who never wanted me.”

“Look, its not that I didn’t want you. But I couldn’t have you. I wasn’t available. My life was too complicated.” “Yeah, I know. But now we are both single.” We went quiet. “You really leaving tonight?” she asked. “Yeah. I got to catch my transfer around 8 pm.” “Do you hate me?’ she asked. “Never. I just want you happy.” And then I mustered up the strength and threw out, “You want to have lunch and talk?” She thought for a moment. “Okay. I will be there in an hour. I will call your room from the lobby. Your room is 3019, right?” “Man, there is no privacy. The front desk gave you that?” She laughed. “Yes, welcome to Nepal.” “See you soon.” I said. “See you soon.” And we hung up together. Then I tried to call Marco Polo to re-schedule my flight again back to the original departure time to Sunday night but there was no signal. Even though I had an hour – I hurried to get ready. And repeatedly called to change my flight – but again my Blackberry had no mobile phone signal.