The Storm

The biggest storm in 40 years hit Hualien
and the two-story apartment I had just
rented near the river was drowned
in water so deep it reached well above
the second floor. I'd just moved in
and every last one of my possessions
on earth was lying on the first floor. I
waited as long as I could. When the river
got close to the back door, huge roaches
started invading; I tried madly to
stop them with a hammer before realizing
it was pointless and that I needed to head
for higher ground to save my life. Being
that there were only a handful of white
people in town at that time, during
the storm, I fled to a my friend Andrew's,
dodging tree branches and falling
telephone poles on my small motor bike.
The day after the storm was a hot day.
A couple from New Zealand, Carole
and Peter (she was born in Holland
actually) had also come to flee the storm.
All of us tinkered around the house all
day, sweating and waiting for news
about the town being cleaned up and
back to normal. So hot and humid
we could hardly breathe. A tank top
and shorts felt like a three-piece suit.
Carole's husband left the house for a
while, to get some groceries. I checked
on the river at some point, and my
apartment house still drowning in it.
I remember nothing very remarkable
about that day. I do remember
Carole telling me that she'd married
when she was 18 and had never
been with a man other than Peter.
"That's very sweet," I'd said, biting
my tongue about my pity. But,
the following day, when I returned to
find my life of papers and photos and
cassettes and clothes had become so
much trash in a matter of minutes, I
got a phone call. Andrew was
calling to warn me frantically that
I needed to leave town as quickly
as I could. "What are you talking
about?" I demanded. "Well, it's
about, ah...you and Carole."
"Me and Carole? What about me
and Carole?" "She told her husband
about you two." "What two? What
the hell did she say?" "She said you two,
you know, had a thing. And Peter is
so pissed he said if he sees you he'll
shoot you." "We had a what? I have
never even so much as glanced
sideways at that woman." "She seems
to think you all had a few moments
yesterday while Peter was away." I
thought for a moment. "Oh my God."
"Oh my God what?" "I was so hot
I took off my shirt and I was walking
around in my boxers." "So?" "So
she said something, you know,
kind of off color for a married woman
to say. I didn't think anything of it,
I didn't even quite hear what she said."
"She said, 'If you don't put your clothes
back on my husband is going to know
about us.'" "About us? What the fuck?
And how would you know what she
said?" "She told her husband that she
said you should put your clothes on."
"And because I didn't, that means I
was coming on to the woman? Peter
didn't even bat an eye when he got
home." "He didn't care until Carole
talked to him later. Said you were
coming on to her and she didn't mind."
"And now Peter wants to shoot me?"
"You know as well as I do how crazy
some of those Kiwis are. If I were you,
I'd catch the next train out." "Well,
we'll just see about fucking that. But
thanks for the heads up." "He knows
where you live. I wouldn't stay."
I hung up the phone and looked
around me, at my muddy clothes, my
ancient journals stuck together with
brackish water, my pile of photos which
had become a pile of glue. I realized
that if the cosmos were ever trying to give
me a sign, this must be it. Even if
Peter doesn't shoot me, I'm leaving,
I thought. I carefully picked through
what little I could salvage from my
sodden, soaking life. Still wearing the same
t-shirt and shorts as three days before,
no sign of a shave in sight, no particular
long-term destination in mind, I hurried
to the train station and managed just barely
to catch the 6:00 train headed for Taipei.
I watched the coastline roll by, as we
scurried along the tracks, so dangerously
close to the Pacific it was like the engineers
wanted to tempt fate. I wondered what would
happen if we fell in, just as I had wondered
dozens of times before on this same trip.
Thirty years later I still wonder what
will happen when I finally let myself
fall in, re-appear suddenly in the middle
of my own life, like The Man Who Fell
to Earth. What will happen if I wake up
one day and find I've fallen in love with
everything? I'm pretty sure I already have
actually. I mean, everything makes me
cry, everything makes me want to be
a better person, everything makes me
want to lay down and fuck off all day
instead and anyway, everything makes
me want to wait out the storm just
to see if I'm still standing. Isn't that love?

(2006)