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Angela looked back and forth between David and Hulan despondently. “I need to know about Brian.”
“We may never know exactly what happened,” Hulan said, not without some sympathy in her voice. “You should prepare yourself for that.”
“Dr. Ma already told me what happened to my brother. He fell in the river and drowned. There are risks in everything we do. I know that. My brother knew that too. There’s nothing I can do about how he died, and a few more days in Beijing won’t hurt him now. But I need to understand his last days. How did he spend them? Who did he talk to? What was he interested in?”
“For what purpose?”
Hulan was so matter-of-fact in her question that Angela answered in the same pragmatic way. “Do you know what it means to los
e someone?”
Hulan kept her face expressionless, but David knew the impact the question would have on her, for he felt it too.
Angela didn’t wait for a response. “Grief counselors would probably say I’m looking for closure. If I can piece together….”
At last Angela’s toughness cracked and the tears flowed.
The waitress returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. By the time the wine was poured, Angela had regained her composure. David suggested she tell them about her brother. As she spoke, he saw in her face that same forlorn look of grief that he’d seen so many times this past year when he’d looked in the mirror or at Hulan.
“Brian always loved dirt,” she began. “I’m two years older, but some of my earliest memories were when we were—gosh, I must have been about four, so he would have been two. He’d play in the dirt all day if our mother let him. I know it sounds hokey, but dirt was one of his first words. He was entranced by it. So I guess it was only natural that he’d end up digging in it for a career.”
She faltered again, and David said, “I understand you’re from Washington.”
“We grew up in Seattle. We were both doing graduate work at the University of Washington, but these last couple of years we hadn’t seen much of each other. I’ve been out in the field myself working on my dissertation. He was over here last summer as a Miller fellow. This year he was going to stay until October, then come home and write his master’s thesis.”
“He must have been smart,” David said.
“He was book smart.” Angela did nothing to hide the sisterly impatience in her voice. “But he was dumber than a toad’s butt when it came to just about everything else.”
David restrained himself from looking in Hulan’s direction.
“He was ambitious too,” Angela continued, still irritated. “He wanted a lot more than a Ph.D. and tenure. Out here he made great new contacts, but what does he do? He fucks them.”
“He couldn’t or wouldn’t follow through?” David tried to clarify.
“No, I mean he fucked them.” Angela looked at each of them, saw their confusion, and spelled it out. “Sex. Women. Every time he had an opportunity put in front of him, he literally screwed it up. He gets the Miller Fellowship, then sleeps with the daughter. He gets some freelance work with Cosgrove’s, then sleeps with the woman who hired him. You’ve met Lily Sinclair, haven’t you? She’s sitting over there.”
Although it was a large room, Lily heard her name and looked up. When Angela smiled and lifted a couple of fingers in salutation, Lily put her book down, got up, and began walking toward them.
“She’s really quite nice,” Angela said under her breath. “We’ve talked a lot since I got here. I can see why my brother liked her.”
When Lily reached the table, Angela said, “I’ve just been telling them about you and Brian and what a dumb ass he was….”
Just then the waitress arrived with dinner. Hulan had ordered well, selecting dishes that utilized local ingredients—pan-fried dumplings in hot chili oil, a river fish steamed with ginger and scallions, and braised pork with pickled mustard tuber. Neither Lily nor Angela made any move to leave.
“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Hulan asked. “I can order more.”
Both women said they’d eaten already.
“Well, then, let’s talk.” Hulan asked the waitress to bring another wineglass. Lily, sensing David and Hulan’s hesitation, encouraged them to eat. It was all terribly rude by Chinese mores, but Hulan didn’t waver for a second and with her chopsticks began pulling the delicate flesh from the bones of the fish.
“So now you know about Brian and me,” Lily said. Her English accent made it seem more sophisticated than it probably was. “I didn’t bring it up before. How could I in front of the others?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “The men. They’re real gossips, and you can imagine what it would mean if it got out that I’d slept with Brian. They’d think they’d have a chance.”
David suspected Stuart Miller already knew, which was why he’d needled her so mercilessly at lunch.
“I can tell you it wasn’t true love or anything like that,” Lily conceded. “It was just a way to spend the evenings in this place. And the boy was talented. Brilliant.”
Was she referring to Brian’s sexual prowess or his brain?
