Dave is thrilled—for the first time he and Yi are online at the same time. He imagines her in her beach shack, sand between her toes, her face illuminated by the glow of the computer screen. He notices the time on the email. She’s drinking. She’s clearly distraught. She needs him there. It won’t feel like an imposition. He looks back over his line and makes some changes:

If you want, I can come and see you—

He can change the date on his ticket and fly to Hong Kong in a matter of days—but the problem is that he’s used up all his holiday time for the wedding. Though thinking about it more, he still has sick leave that he hasn’t yet taken, and he could even possibly use some of the holiday time originally intended for the wedding. He just has to talk to Mayling.

If you want, I can come and see you—

He is sweating enough that he can smell himself: damp, sour heat. He licks his palm. Salty. He can hear Mayling moving things around in the kitchen; the clink of a teaspoon, the opening and shutting of cupboards. It all sounds familiar and somehow pitiful. All he needs to do is get up, go to her, speak: I’m sorry, I can’t get married.

10-14-02

4:10 am (GMT +7)

So Dave, I have a question for you. What happens when you die? Uh-oh, time’s up! Read the following information very, very carefully…

After the funeral we took the shuttle to the train station. There was a stall by the entrance selling cheap sunglasses and Hello Kitty toys, techno music blasting out of one of those flimsy stereos from Shenzhen (techno—can the idiotic be evil???), while the vendors, two young women, all nails and highlights, pored over the Apple Daily and talked about some movie star’s affair. Want to know what happens when you die? THIS. This is what happens—Hello Kitty, crappy sunglasses, blue chips, red chips, fish and chips, pollution, fucking bad, bad music. The rest of the world goes on. LIFE GOES ON, blah blah blah. As it should. It’s obscene that it should. Us being here is obscene.

Are you there? // Yi

Dave looks over his line—If you want, I can come and see you—and decides it is inadequate.

10-12-02

9:15 pm (GMT)

Yi,

Yes, I’m here! Sorry you’re going through all this. I wish I could be there. In fact, I have a ticket—

“Dave! We’re out of PG Tips!”

“What?”

“We’re out of PG Tips!”

“Well, then, don’t worry about it!”

“But the water’s boiled! Don’t you want something else?”

“Okay!”

I have a ticket, and I can come to you. I can—

“Like what? Coffee? Chamomile? Look, I’m sick of yelling…”