She continued unburdening herself. All those years ago, a week before leaving China, she hid herself in her new lover’s chamber. This new lover was the husband she’d abandoned. For two days she stopped making love to him, just clung to him tightly from nightfall till dawn. Without transgression, happiness wasn’t real. She then carefully put aside her passionate romance with Jianjun. When she got off the plane, walking into the dazzling California sunshine and Glen’s embrace, her smile was a little crooked. She told Glen how much she loved him, and that was the truth—it felt as if her unfaithfulness had made her love him even more. Every woman finds that a secret passion increases her ardor and warmth for her husband, and every lucky husband should thank his shadowy rival, whether real or imagined. The security of a household stems from feelings constantly going their own way, conscience and falsehood adjusting each other, the third point of a triangle forever shrouded in darkness.

Finishing her drink, Hongmei found herself in an excellent state of drunkenness.

She told the secret talker there were moments when she’d discover with a shock how much she didn’t love Glen. These often had happened when she had been living with Jianjun too. That’s when she’d most longed for an affair.

9

At half past one in the morning, she shut down her computer and lurched into the bathroom to wash up. As she picked up her toothbrush, she suddenly felt she needed a bath. She had to own up to it, the shame and filth she felt within herself. Yet she had a pure heart too. Looking at the wavering lines in the mirror, she thought she was still beautiful and could be forgiven a little indiscretion.

In the morning, Glen insisted on dragging her to the square to see the university’s new flagpole gadget. A little black box, halfway up. If anyone tried to bring the flag down, the box would turn into a vacuum and suck up the fabric. This was meant to deter anyone thinking of burning the Stars and Stripes.

Two people were up a ladder testing this device—just like magic, the waving flag got pulled into the little box, and the spectators clapped and cheered. A sea of pinkish faces beneath the blue sky, unblinking eyes—blue, gray, brown, black . . .

“Isn’t this great?” Glen, thinking it was a nice invention, asked Hongmei.

Her palms were tapping together too. She nodded at Glen, wondering which pair of eyes belonged to her, the secret talker, who managed to be everywhere at once.

“A college in the Midwest came up with this,” said Glen. “Never mind that we’re in the red, the administration bought three right away.”

She reached out to hug Glen. These were the moments she loved him most, his childlike enthusiasm.