An episode of love

Lie Hua

I arrived at the tall building a few minutes before 9. The schedule said the class would start exactly at that hour. Luckily, the door opened by itself the moment I stood before it.

My eyes quickly tried to find the name of the company I had to visit: The New Age. There it was, on 11th floor. I caught sight of the picture of an arrow pointing to where the elevator was.

Half running, I rushed to the elevator, a big bag full of papers in my right arm. Oops, the door almost closed. I put in my left hand, trying to prevent it from shutting. At a glance I saw a man in his mid-forties push the button to keep the door open. I went in and pushed the button for my floor. Then, regaining my composure, I smiled to the man and said thank you.

He seemed to be the quiet type. He simply smiled, nodding his head. With gray streaks in his hair, he was tall, at least about 15 cm taller than me. Neatly dressed, he stood close to one side of the elevator. There were only the two of us. The elevator moved fast and on 9th floor, it stopped. The man nodded to me and left. I was alone. Well, two more floors. I tidied my dress and tried to imagine what the class would be like.

I was representing my company at a one-day workshop on how to cut down absenteeism. Of course, this was not my first assignment but a new class would always mean something new, You would meet new people and new ways of thinking and behaving.

The elevator stopped and I got out. The signboard right in front showed me where I had to head. I turned right and after a few paces got to the desk of a security guard. I produced the letter from my company and was asked to wait. I sat down on the sofa, my eyes traveling, as usual, to try to make out what place I was in.

"This is the lady, sir," the security guard told someone.

I looked up. It was the man I had met in the elevator. He, too, was surprised. For a moment, he simply looked at me. Then, politely, he led me to the conference room.

"There are 15 us and I happen to be coordinating this workshop."

Still feeling rather surprised, I offered my hand and said, "Maria".

"Sandi," he said. We shook hands. His grip was strong. I was still unable to think clearly about this coincidence.

The seminar went off as planned; quite a heated discussion and then a solution. It all took place by the book. Sandi, as I had expected, was very quiet. Unlike his colleagues, he would just smile and look at me from time to time.

The next morning, at the office, I received a short message. "Hi, busy? U really r a terrific speaker." Sandi.

From Sandi? I replied, "Tx 4 flattering. Btw, why did u keep quiet?"

"2 impressed 2 say anything. U r really knowledgeable."

Typical of a flatterer, I mumbled to myself. "Sorry, hv 2 finish job." I replied.

The next day and the days after, Sandi regularly sent me his short messages, sometimes just to say hi, nothing else, and I replied similarly. This went on for several months, until one day I bumped into him again at a bookstore. I was taking my 11-year- old-only daughter to buy some pictorial English books. He was there, alone.

He was looking for a self-help cookbook.

"For your wife?" I asked. He did not answer, but kept searching. I helped him and quickly found some.

"Here, these must be good," I said, showing him the books. He took them and looked at each of them, very carefully. My daughter, in the meantime, was busy in the kids books corner.

"I'll get this one," he said, showing to me Smart Cooking for Gents and putting back the other two.

"Oh, you want to surprise your wife?" I asked, curious. He simply looked at me and smiled. What a weird personality, I thought.

We left the bookshop. He offered to take us in his car. I agreed. On the way, we hardly exchanged words. He politely refused to drop in at my house, saying he was in a hurry to return to his office.

****

Six months passed and our exchange of short messages continued, quite regularly. We even exchanged e-mails. He became more open and wrote more. I knew more about him. In fact, he was quite a warm personality, quite different from the way he looked when I saw him in person.

The more I knew him, the more I felt attached to him. His wife had left him as he could not afford to buy a house and they had to live with his parents and unmarried, mentally ill sister. He persuaded his wife to bear a bit longer but she was impatient and gave him a choice: "Move out or I leave".

He could not move out yet. His mother needed her. Without him in the house, the mother would be unable to deal with the sister. His plan was to save enough money to buy a small house and take his mom with to live with them.

He knew, he told me, his wife had a difficult time with his sister but, being younger, she was expected to be stronger and more understanding. He did not asked much, just bear a bit longer until he had got enough money to install a house. Unfortunately, she preferred to leave him. Well, I knew then why he had bought that self-help cookbook.

When night came, I would always wait for his e-mail, or at least his short message. I kept my cell phone close to me. I felt very uneasy until a message from him had arrived. My husband must have noticed something strange about me; he asked me several times whether I was waiting for an urgent message from the office.

Indeed, my office often gave me an assignment at short notice via the cell phone. I really felt guilty. How could I love another man? My husband was a good man. He loved me and was always understanding. But Sandi's face cropped up frequently on my mind. I felt so much attached to him, I don't know why. Is it love? I often asked myself. How can I love another man? I asked myself, again and again, disbelievingly and somewhat guiltily. But, in truth, I was eagerly waiting for my cell phone to beep.

*****

A year passed. Sandi sent his short messages and e-mails regularly, as usual. In the third month of the year, however, they came at a longer and longer interval. Then in the fifth month, I no longer received messages and e-mails.

I was distraught. Not hearing from him was really great torture. I tried to find information from his office. To my great surprise, I was told Sandi had gone abroad. He would settle abroad but had not provided a forwarding address. His friend told me that Sandi said he had written a letter for a Ms Maria and that she would telephone for him, and he would have to give her the letter.

I picked up the letter and read it in my taxi. It was quite short

Maria dear,

I really love you, of all people. Your replies to my messages have kept me alive. Your e-mails revive my hope and make me see that the world is still bright. I have decided to move abroad as an immigrant, otherwise it would not be good for us. It would be agonizing to you and me, and also to your family. You have a good husband and a nice daughter. They need you.

I have no right to shatter their happiness. It is said when you really love someone, you want him or her to be happy. This is what I want, Mar. It is enough for me to remember the days when we exchanged messages. They were the happiest episode in my life. I will always remember you. Take care. Sandi.

I wept; I do not know how long I shed tears. But I felt relieved. It was not unrequited, after all. Was it a sin, though?