"Mom, what do you think about red bananas? Would it grow here? Could it survive the winter?" I was phoning.
There was a sloped garden, requiring my attendance. I was planting, I couldn't tell where I was. Was it my grandma's siheyyuan in Changsha, China? Was it near the well where I used to peek into when I was only about 4? Was it my Berkeley house, the big flowering garden? Was it my house in the bay area, the one I bought recently via a short sale with a sloped, sunny garden, often vacant, with a deck overlooking the bay? Was it my house in the Peninsula, the very first one I purchased when I was barely 23? The one with a patio and a kitchen with plantation shutters overlooks the patio where I grew passion flower vine and a lemon tree? Was it my country stone house in France, the one overlooks the meadow with a river runs through it? Was it my urban flat in the southern China sea, where endless fruiting banana trees draped with red and yellow bananas with no one cared to pick the ripened fruit, and where plumeria flowers grew in wild abandon? Was it my house near the beach with a white picked fence, a persimmon tree, a peach tree, an orange tree, a plum tree, a bay leaf tree and a fig tree covering the entire front garden, painted green porch extending into the old Queen Ann Victorian house? Where was I?
How old was I?
There was a large mirror in front of the fireplace, it was a real fireplace, the deck overlooked a hill that guarded a city with lights. I had started to light a fire, and the smoke went straight to the wall above it, my Norwegian boyfriend, the thin, tall with glasses boyish looking surfer boy took me shopping, first Busvan for Bargains on Clement and then some home furnishing store in the city that I couldn't remember the name. He found the perfect mirror, and logged it home. He then mounted just so, it covered the entire space just above the fireplace, problem solved. No painting job needed. When I finally broke it off with him I met this dashing Danish man with an exotic name, like the Norwegian boy he was quite tall and handsome and had the incredibly blue eyes. He offered to fix the garage door, one which the Norwegian boyfriend never got around to fix. I made him dinner. He fixed my garage door. Dinner was haphazardly put on, I had a nice townhouse, two stories, and I was twenty five. I never paid much attention to ending a relationship, I sort of drifted, gliding from one person to another, offering no explanation or conclusion. The Swedish man was the only one I cared about. He was 16 years senior than me. He had that Peter Sarsgaard look, down to that crooked smile, I was smitten the moment I met him. He had the same nasal tone like Peter Sarsgaard when he spoke, he said that I was a Californian party girl that he was attracted to, I had pictured myself as this terribly serious career woman, but for him, I was just a girl, a pretty girl with a pretty face and nice rack and not much else upstairs. I tried for years to change his view of me to no avail, I tried to impress him, and I submitted to his every single request. It often went like this, "Hi, I'm in the city tonight, I can stop over on my way home." I waited for his BMW convertible to show up, often late at night. He came to see me, I went down on him until he was hard, he then fucked me and left me. It went on for years and I said nothing and asked of nothing in return. I thought he could one day realize I was the one, until I finally let him go in my head.
He was getting married just after I was getting married. They went to Greece, I went to Kenya and Seychelles.
One year I met this boy at a white water rafting trip. When I returned from my trip, I showered my dirt away and shaved every part of my body other than my head. He called and we went on a date that same weekend, according to his recollection, and I had some transvestite VHS porn laying around in my bedroom. We watched porn and fell asleep. He said. Much later on. A Jersey boy came to town to visit me, he was heart broken because I failed to show up at his New Year Eve party where he had arranged for his mother to meet me, I had other plans in Huntington, Long Island that year, with another man, I failed to inform him. He came back to me and asked for an explanation. I said that I was too scared of his intensity and I couldn't go through with it. He made me coffee and slept in my bed that evening, I was not sorry for my decision, but he was scared, for many years to follow. I broke hearts, I didn't even know it. That was what happened when you were young and life was full of potentials and possibilities.
There was always fog coming in late in the evening. Red bananas would not do well there, but passion vine did. It never fruited like it would do in the coastal cities. But I liked the look of red bananas.
Which garden was I trying to plant my red banana tree in my dream? I saw an invisible thread so I followed it along.
I was making an early teleconference call. My lover was in town from Cambridge, Mass. He was going down on me as I spoke about my tasks and to-dos. He made love to me as I worked. He was good at making me come. Tall men seemed to like my physique, and I had a pull on their psyche. When I cheated behind his back with this petite blond boy, a fresh out of college kid who was only 28 days younger but looked five years younger, I was determined to tell my lover. He was upset and I cried. We broke up over the phone. I thought I had a go with the little boy. He said he loved me. He said repeatedly that he loved me. How could he lie? How could he tell me that he loved me one moment and then demanded that we should break up? This time I cried not for having hurt someone but for having been hurt. I didn't deserve this. I couldn't possibly deserve that type of treatment.
I had started to learn everything about plants. Subtropical plants, in particular. I didn't know why but I needed the knowledge, the distraction. When I moved to that sunny home up on the hills, I spent a year planting everything that I could get my hands on. There was a large red banana tree, a wild flower garden, a large ancient Santa Rosa plum tree and endless roses. It never cease to amaze me that the deer jumped over the fence to sleep under the plum tree The deer had decided my backyard was their vacation home. I let them but they were huge. I was worried one day they would hurt my baby girl.
I moved and I moved every plant that I could manage to move with me. This time in a flat land with lots of pedestrian walkways. White picked fence all around, ten minute walk to the sandy beach. Giant bird of paradise moved with me. The red banana tree did not survive the move.
Where was I? I was looking all over for the end of the tunnel, I was still in a trance, I was still asleep, I wanted to know where I was. This was not my homes. I had homes all over the world. I had known so many people in my past, but none lasted. They all came and went.
When I was falling asleep, I was thinking about this man with beautiful creations. He liked me and wanted me and then somehow things changed. I wanted to be in his embrace and I wanted him to want me back but I did not want to be his again. I was thinking about this other man who hurt me over and over again and I realized I no longer wanted him. I drifted to sleep thinking about this tall Swedish boy who decided that I should be in his life regardless of what. We had never fought, never argued, never thought that we'd last that long. At the restaurant he told me that he and his wife fought, and he was feeling down. He had never told me anything about his domestic life, and I was surprised that he opened up to me. I comforted him and told him that things would be alright. He gave me that shy smile. He had blond hair and blue eyes, the kind of men I was always attracted to. He would have been perfect hadn't he been married, or for that matter, hadn't I been married. We would have a good life, he and I, and perhaps one day, ten years later, he'd tell his new lover he once loved a woman who was eight years older. But she left him. I had left him. Like I always did, I didn't tell him.
He was the only person who knew botany, he was the only person whom I could count on. I had been heart broken by so many, and I had never told him any of them, but he knew instinctively something happened, and he was the only lover who never asked and who made me laugh even when I was depressed.
I couldn't have loved him. I only loved those who did not love me back.
I heard a fain noise a little girl was making, "I can't wait to show my friends. I got this from Czech Republic." She was showing me a necklace. A beautiful dragon sword.
I had nothing left in this world. I must return to the reality with no red banana tree.
It was 6 AM, I had been awake for a good three hours, or was I asleep the whole time?
My last goodbye was with that Swedish boy, he did not do anything wrong. I just couldn't be with anyone any more. I had lost faith, hope, and desire to be who I was not. I could not possibly feel anything more. I was already dead. This version of me required further reconstruction. Sewing her back required skills and time. One piece at a time. At the end of the day, the world without a red banana tree would be a boring place indeed.
There was a sloped garden, requiring my attendance. I was planting, I couldn't tell where I was. Was it my grandma's siheyyuan in Changsha, China? Was it near the well where I used to peek into when I was only about 4? Was it my Berkeley house, the big flowering garden? Was it my house in the bay area, the one I bought recently via a short sale with a sloped, sunny garden, often vacant, with a deck overlooking the bay? Was it my house in the Peninsula, the very first one I purchased when I was barely 23? The one with a patio and a kitchen with plantation shutters overlooks the patio where I grew passion flower vine and a lemon tree? Was it my country stone house in France, the one overlooks the meadow with a river runs through it? Was it my urban flat in the southern China sea, where endless fruiting banana trees draped with red and yellow bananas with no one cared to pick the ripened fruit, and where plumeria flowers grew in wild abandon? Was it my house near the beach with a white picked fence, a persimmon tree, a peach tree, an orange tree, a plum tree, a bay leaf tree and a fig tree covering the entire front garden, painted green porch extending into the old Queen Ann Victorian house? Where was I?
How old was I?
There was a large mirror in front of the fireplace, it was a real fireplace, the deck overlooked a hill that guarded a city with lights. I had started to light a fire, and the smoke went straight to the wall above it, my Norwegian boyfriend, the thin, tall with glasses boyish looking surfer boy took me shopping, first Busvan for Bargains on Clement and then some home furnishing store in the city that I couldn't remember the name. He found the perfect mirror, and logged it home. He then mounted just so, it covered the entire space just above the fireplace, problem solved. No painting job needed. When I finally broke it off with him I met this dashing Danish man with an exotic name, like the Norwegian boy he was quite tall and handsome and had the incredibly blue eyes. He offered to fix the garage door, one which the Norwegian boyfriend never got around to fix. I made him dinner. He fixed my garage door. Dinner was haphazardly put on, I had a nice townhouse, two stories, and I was twenty five. I never paid much attention to ending a relationship, I sort of drifted, gliding from one person to another, offering no explanation or conclusion. The Swedish man was the only one I cared about. He was 16 years senior than me. He had that Peter Sarsgaard look, down to that crooked smile, I was smitten the moment I met him. He had the same nasal tone like Peter Sarsgaard when he spoke, he said that I was a Californian party girl that he was attracted to, I had pictured myself as this terribly serious career woman, but for him, I was just a girl, a pretty girl with a pretty face and nice rack and not much else upstairs. I tried for years to change his view of me to no avail, I tried to impress him, and I submitted to his every single request. It often went like this, "Hi, I'm in the city tonight, I can stop over on my way home." I waited for his BMW convertible to show up, often late at night. He came to see me, I went down on him until he was hard, he then fucked me and left me. It went on for years and I said nothing and asked of nothing in return. I thought he could one day realize I was the one, until I finally let him go in my head.
He was getting married just after I was getting married. They went to Greece, I went to Kenya and Seychelles.
One year I met this boy at a white water rafting trip. When I returned from my trip, I showered my dirt away and shaved every part of my body other than my head. He called and we went on a date that same weekend, according to his recollection, and I had some transvestite VHS porn laying around in my bedroom. We watched porn and fell asleep. He said. Much later on. A Jersey boy came to town to visit me, he was heart broken because I failed to show up at his New Year Eve party where he had arranged for his mother to meet me, I had other plans in Huntington, Long Island that year, with another man, I failed to inform him. He came back to me and asked for an explanation. I said that I was too scared of his intensity and I couldn't go through with it. He made me coffee and slept in my bed that evening, I was not sorry for my decision, but he was scared, for many years to follow. I broke hearts, I didn't even know it. That was what happened when you were young and life was full of potentials and possibilities.
There was always fog coming in late in the evening. Red bananas would not do well there, but passion vine did. It never fruited like it would do in the coastal cities. But I liked the look of red bananas.
Which garden was I trying to plant my red banana tree in my dream? I saw an invisible thread so I followed it along.
I was making an early teleconference call. My lover was in town from Cambridge, Mass. He was going down on me as I spoke about my tasks and to-dos. He made love to me as I worked. He was good at making me come. Tall men seemed to like my physique, and I had a pull on their psyche. When I cheated behind his back with this petite blond boy, a fresh out of college kid who was only 28 days younger but looked five years younger, I was determined to tell my lover. He was upset and I cried. We broke up over the phone. I thought I had a go with the little boy. He said he loved me. He said repeatedly that he loved me. How could he lie? How could he tell me that he loved me one moment and then demanded that we should break up? This time I cried not for having hurt someone but for having been hurt. I didn't deserve this. I couldn't possibly deserve that type of treatment.
I had started to learn everything about plants. Subtropical plants, in particular. I didn't know why but I needed the knowledge, the distraction. When I moved to that sunny home up on the hills, I spent a year planting everything that I could get my hands on. There was a large red banana tree, a wild flower garden, a large ancient Santa Rosa plum tree and endless roses. It never cease to amaze me that the deer jumped over the fence to sleep under the plum tree The deer had decided my backyard was their vacation home. I let them but they were huge. I was worried one day they would hurt my baby girl.
I moved and I moved every plant that I could manage to move with me. This time in a flat land with lots of pedestrian walkways. White picked fence all around, ten minute walk to the sandy beach. Giant bird of paradise moved with me. The red banana tree did not survive the move.
Where was I? I was looking all over for the end of the tunnel, I was still in a trance, I was still asleep, I wanted to know where I was. This was not my homes. I had homes all over the world. I had known so many people in my past, but none lasted. They all came and went.
When I was falling asleep, I was thinking about this man with beautiful creations. He liked me and wanted me and then somehow things changed. I wanted to be in his embrace and I wanted him to want me back but I did not want to be his again. I was thinking about this other man who hurt me over and over again and I realized I no longer wanted him. I drifted to sleep thinking about this tall Swedish boy who decided that I should be in his life regardless of what. We had never fought, never argued, never thought that we'd last that long. At the restaurant he told me that he and his wife fought, and he was feeling down. He had never told me anything about his domestic life, and I was surprised that he opened up to me. I comforted him and told him that things would be alright. He gave me that shy smile. He had blond hair and blue eyes, the kind of men I was always attracted to. He would have been perfect hadn't he been married, or for that matter, hadn't I been married. We would have a good life, he and I, and perhaps one day, ten years later, he'd tell his new lover he once loved a woman who was eight years older. But she left him. I had left him. Like I always did, I didn't tell him.
He was the only person who knew botany, he was the only person whom I could count on. I had been heart broken by so many, and I had never told him any of them, but he knew instinctively something happened, and he was the only lover who never asked and who made me laugh even when I was depressed.
I couldn't have loved him. I only loved those who did not love me back.
I heard a fain noise a little girl was making, "I can't wait to show my friends. I got this from Czech Republic." She was showing me a necklace. A beautiful dragon sword.
I had nothing left in this world. I must return to the reality with no red banana tree.
It was 6 AM, I had been awake for a good three hours, or was I asleep the whole time?
My last goodbye was with that Swedish boy, he did not do anything wrong. I just couldn't be with anyone any more. I had lost faith, hope, and desire to be who I was not. I could not possibly feel anything more. I was already dead. This version of me required further reconstruction. Sewing her back required skills and time. One piece at a time. At the end of the day, the world without a red banana tree would be a boring place indeed.
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