Blue Eyes

My high school close friend, Norman, passed away.

It was a windy Tuesday afternoon. We all stood there, all in black, listening to the priest. The leaves of the trees where shaking in the wind, saying their own goodbye to Norman. I had my head down all the times, trying to hide the two streams of tear coming down on my cheeks. It got to a point where I had no choice but to grab my tissue from the front pant pockets, lifted my head and wipe the tears, blow my nose so that I could breathe. It was that brief moment that I had a glimpse of those pairs of deep blue eyes. It belonged to her, Ivy, standing on the other side of the coffin. Actually, I did not know her name then. I was calling her “Blue Eyes” when I left the cemetery that day.

A week later, I could not help myself but to go back to the cemetery. I thought it would be quieter. It would be better for me to say good bye to Norman. The area was cleaned up. No more scattered dirt. No more footprints from the people saying goodbye that day.

I found the tombstone.

Norman Walaski

1960-1982

a good son and a trusted friend

Forever loving

I put down the flowers, sat down. I leaned on the tombstone. I titled my head. With my eyes looking at the clouds above, I was about to chat with Norman when my vision was covered by a pair of deep blue.

“Blue eyes!” I uttered.

“What?”

“Blue eyes!” I said again.

“Are you alright?” she said.

 I quickly got up, patted my pants. There she is, blue eyes.

 She is my height. Short blond hair. I can see directly into her blue eyes.

 "Hi, I'm Wen!" I hesitated but extended my right hand.

 My hand did not last long in the air, she held it. I can tell a lot from a simple handshake. Some ladies extend their hands out as if extending a handkerchief to be touch only. Some are soft like pillow where you want to gently squeeze. Hers was different. It was firm. I can feel her sincerity and confidence.

 "I am Ivy. Are you related to Norman?"

 "Norman?" My mind was still somewhere else.

 "Yes, Norman Walasky." She pointed at the tombstone.

 "Oh yes, Norman! Of course, that's why I'm here, to pay him a visit.” I said.

 "And you, do you know him?" I asked.

 Ivy paused. Her eyes got some sparkle from the tears. "Norman...Norman is my boyfriend." She turned away looking at the mountain in the distance.

 "I am sorry. I don't think I met you before. Norman and I are high school classmates." I tried to break the silence.

 I sat on the grass, looking at the mountains. High school, that was years ago. Norman and I went to San Gabriel High School in Southern California. We clicked the first time we saw each other. He loves to sing. He is good at debate too. We were both not very athletic. We kept ourselves busy with the student council.

 One day, during our junior year, I was just learning how to drive. Norman let me use his Jeep to practice in the school parking lot. It was a car with stick shift. That was a real challenge for me. I did good. I drove around the parking lot with only one time that I need to restart the car. There is a fine balance between releasing the clutch and stepping on the gas.

Then it happened again. The car stopped behind the little Volkswagen beetle of our basketball coach. I restarted the car, stepped on the clutch, and changed gears. I looked back, release clutch and step on the gas pedal. Instead of going backward, the Jeep went forward. I heard a pop. I crushed something. I quickly step on the brake, put the gear to neutral and turn off the engine. I went out to inspect the damage. The beetle’s left rear bumper was smashed. The Jeep is fine. As I stood there, I can feel the blood draining from my body. I feel like I was going to faint anytime.

I sat on the ground. I do not know how long but enough to clear my mind. The parking lot is empty. No one saw me. Coach has a temper. I dare not talk to him. Beside, how do I pay for the repair? It was a bad day. When I was about to cry, Norman came out of the building. He saw the two cars. He sat down with me.

“Wen, it is ok. The Jeep is insured. That will take care of the damage.”

I was scared. What will happen when my father learns about this? I don’t think he is going to be happy. He will be yelling and screaming. “What do you think you are doing? Trying to learn how to drive? You do not even have money to get a car! Don’t you know that driving is dangerous! Look at what you have done! Get down on your knees and stay there! Think of what you have just done!”

It was a long walk home that day. We live only three blocks from the school. Even with Norman’s reassurance, I was really scared. We did not tell my father about it. Norman took care of everything. The coach did not call my father.

That was my best memory of Norman. A helping friend. As they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed. I can count on him to help me.

When I turn around, Ivy was also sitting on the grass. She was also on her own little world. Probably thinking about her memory with Norman.

“Ivy, what happened to Norman?” After college, I went to Oklahoma State in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Norman stayed in the San Gabriel area. He helped his father with their import business. He decided not to go to college. My family also moved away from the area. I did not have much of a contact with anyone. I got a phone call from my sister three days ago telling me about Norman’s death. My sister also do not know what happened.

“It was an accident. That weekend, Norman went to San Francisco to his usual business trip. He went with their business partner Joe. On Sunday morning, they were supposed to have breakfast. But Norman did not show up. Later, they found him dead in his room.” Ivy paused. She cried again.

I let the silence stay. It must be painful for her to recall.

“They found the video from the camcorder in the hotel hallway. The person was wearing a baseball cap. He knocked at the door. Norman let him in. Apparently, Norman knew him. The police report stated that most likely they got into an argument and Norman was killed. There was no murder weapon. The scene looked like the person grabbed his head and continuously pound it on the floor.” Ivy was able to continue the story.

Enough. That is too painful for both of us to listen. I decided not to ask more questions. I decided just to let it stay like that. Her boyfriend was killed and was gone. So is my best friend.

I left Southern California the next day. I returned to Stillwater, Oklahoma to continue my Master’ studies in Nutritional Science. I got busy. Between running the experiment, taking classes and teaching Nutrition 101, my days were filled.

A year later, on a slow weekend in May, a got a call from Ivy.

“Hi Wen, how are you?”

“Hi! What a surprise! Where are you?”

“I am in Stillwater!” Ivy said.

“Stillwater? Wow, what are you doing here?”

“I have a friend who is going to school here. I needed a break. So when she asked me if I wanted to come, I agreed. And, I thought I can see you again.”

 We met at the Cowboy mall. I used to work at the Peking Palace. We met there and had lunch. Then I brought her to the nearby lake.

I had two girlfriends before. One was during my senior year in high school. The other one was during my junior year in college. For me, it all starts with the initial attraction. I can feel if she is interested in me or not. That made it easy for me to make the move. I have not had a girlfriend where I had to try really hard. Somehow I am not interested in those who love to play the “Hard to get” game.

Ivy is the same. From the first time I saw her blue eyes, I was attracted. However, it was the wrong timing. Norman just passed away. We were both not in the situation to start a new relationship.

I can feel that Ivy is also interested to me. It started with that firm handshake that we had. When she called, I can feel the excitement in her voice.

I park the car by the picnic table. There is big cottonwood tree next to it. It creates a perfect shade for this hot summer afternoon. The place is empty. I love the quietness. We sat on the concrete picnic table, facing the lake. There is a light breeze. I cannot “order” a better weather for this lake visit.

I look at the lake water. A few ducks were swimming by the shore. They are used to see people around. One of them actually walks up close to us.

Ivy bends over and holds it. A duckling. I am surprised to see that. Ivy seems to be good with animals. Her long slender fingers fold into a bowl, and the duckling was just happy to be there.

After a few minutes, she gently put it down.

“Your mother must be looking for you. Go find her!” She said to the duckling.

I laughed. “Wow, you are really good with animals!”

“No, I am not. For some reason, I just feel like hold something today…”Ivy replied.

“Ivy, what do you do?”

“I am a pianist.”

“Are you still in school?”

“Yes, I am doing my Masters in Music at USC.”

“You must play a lot of music.”

“Well, sort of. Practice is never ending.” Ivy suddenly thought of something. “Hey, I have a recital in October. Would you like to come?”

“October. If it is during fall break then I should able to. Let me know the exact date.”

“Great!” Ivy smiled.

I love her smile. Every time she smiles, her blue eyes seem to twinkle. Every time I look at her smile, it feels like I am drowning in the ocean.

Aaron Johnson Recital

Performed by Aaron Johnson, Cielo and Ivy Finzi, Piano

Program

Grieg: Cello Sonata in A minor Op. 36

Bach: Cello Suite #2 in D Minor, BWV 1008

Finzi: Cello Concerto in A Minor, Op. 40

Alfred Newman Recital Hall.

University of Southern California.

I stepped into the hall with full excitement. It will be my first classical music program. Ivy is playing with a Cellist. Grieg, Back, Finzi. I do not know these guys. The last time I heard a classical music recording, I fell asleep. It was boring. Why would people call it classical music? I rather listen to BeeGees.

A live performance is totally different. It is show. It is just like going to Las Vegas, Nevada. It is not only the music. It includes the lighting, the musician’s outfit, and their body language. It is the total effect.

Ivy sits on the left of the stage with the grand piano. Aaron sits on the right with his cello. They look at each other before each play. They gave each other a signal and a connection. I can see the playfulness of the duo. At the lake, Ivy corrected my concept about a pianist.

“We are not accompanist. We do not just play our part of the piece of music. We collaborate. We support our soloist. When they are lost, we bring them back. That’s why our program is called Collaborative Piano.”

I will have to agree with that. As an audience, especially for someone like me who has no clue about the tune or the piece of music that they are playing, what I see is their interaction. Ivy did not just play her piano and hope that Aaron can do his part. They look at each other. It is also like a dance.

At one point in the presentation, I closed my eyes. I allowed the music to flow into me. I imagine a stream of musical notes flowing into my head with my breath and reach my abdomen.  When my abdomen is extended to its maximum fullness, I let the musical notes go out with my breath. It was very relaxing. Now I understand why it I called classical music. It withstood the test of time. It crossed the boundary of culture. It is a universal language.

After the recital, they do their usual snack and visiting. I grab a piece of cookie and a cup of lemonade. I do not know anyone. So I stayed at the back of the lobby waiting for Ivy to come. I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

“Can you walk me back to my dorm later?” Ivy softly said.

I nodded. “Let me wait for you outside.”

October night in Southern California. Perfect temperature. I sat by the steps in front of the building. My mind was at peace. I can feel that I am having a new person in my life. That’s an excitement! Everything seems to be clearer. The moon seems to be brighter. The bushes under the street light seem to be more alive. And the light breeze seems to be fresh even though this campus is right in the middle of the greater Los Angeles area.

“Hi!”

I turned around. There she is. All black outfit. It looks really great with her blond hair. The gold necklace is just the perfect addition.

“Hi!” I said, standing there, just admiring the beauty in front of me.

“Well, did you enjoy the program?”

“Oh yes! Definitely. This is the first time that classical music did not put me to sleep!” I said.

“If that because of me?” She said with a smile.

I did not know how to reply. I smiled.

“Let’s go. You have to show me the way.” I finally said.

The recital hall is at the eastern part of the campus and her dorm is at the western end. We had a long walk. Somewhere in that walk, I hold her hand. It was soft. It was a little moist. We actually did not talk. She probably needed a break from the recital. I totally enjoyed it. From time to time, we looked at each other and smiled. I would squeeze her hand a little bit. Before I knew, we were in front of the dorm.

We stood there facing each other. I held her cheeks with my hands. I gave her a kiss.

That night, I could not sleep. How could I? I know I am in love. I decided to get up and write a poem.

 Blue Love

I want to swim in the blue ocean

Listening to you and to your story

I want to smell your constant potion

Touching your cheek and say no sorry

 

Let the moon and the star be our witness

This is the night our hearts touch

Let the trees and bushes remember the sweetness

This is the walk our love hatches

 

Our kiss has just begin

The embrace will keep on coming

This is a dream I want no waking

This is a journey I want to be getting

 

No one can tell me what love is like

I got it in this October night

 

Christmas came and went. Valentine’s day came and went. Ivy and I talked on the phone every week. Both of us live on the dorm. Calling each other can be challenging. I write her a letter almost every week. She lives in Southern California and I am in Stillwater, Oklahoma. The distance can be a killer but we manage to stay connected. She was busy with her music program and I was busy with my nutritional research. That summer, I decided to find a part time job in Southern California. We were able to see each other more often. Our relationship deepens.

Then it is time to introduce her to my parents. My parents left Southern California and moved to the Bay area after I finished high school. My father was born in 1940 in southern China. During the Second World War, my grandfather managed to move the family to Southern California. My father grew up in Los Angeles’ Chinatown. My grandfather owns a hardware store. Business was good. Over the years, the store got bigger and bigger. My grandfather was very strict with my father’s education. Inside the house, he is not allowed to speak any language except for Mandarin. Grandpa will give him Chinese home work to do. My father can read, write and speak Mandarin very well.

They celebrate all the traditional Chinese customs. Chinese New year was a big one. We would go to grandpa’s house that day, all wearing brand new clothes. We would say “Kong Shi Fa Chay” to grandpa and he will give us a red envelope with cash inside. I get to keep the envelope and father gets to keep the money. He said that it was for my college education.

Chinatown is an interesting world. You get to keep your Chinese traditions while interacting with the rest of the community. In a way, we follow two rules. Growing up, I find it challenging sometimes to remember which rule to follow.

My father is a typical Chinese father. Authoritarian. He is the head of the family. Strict. He makes all the decisions. No discussions allowed. He also believes in physical punishment. I had a taste of that in elementary school. If I get an A in school, I get a quarter which I get to save. If I get a grade lower than that, I need to kneel in front of him, extend my hand palms up. He would pull out his belt and give me a whip.

For the traditional Chinese, carrying the family name is very important. That’s why they need to have a son. In the old Chinese society, if the wife cannot bear a child or no son was born, the husband would bring in a second wife. Even though my father did not grow up in China, he was educated that way.

By the end of summer, before I return to Oklahoma, I decided to bring Ivy to meet my family in the Bay area. My parents live in Union City. We drove up highway 101, towards San Jose, and then we headed northeast from there.

My parents knew that I am in a relationship. They also knew that Ivy is not Chinese. The first time I told my father, he did not say much. I know that he is not happy. I am his eldest son. I am the one who carries the family name. In his world, he would want a Chinese daughter in law. He would want his first grandchild to be a Chinese boy.

When we step into the house, my father saw us and said, “Did you eat already?”

That is the Chinese way of greeting. Having a meal is important. So the greeting is always “Did you eat?” and not “How are you?” Also, we do not hug. Never. In my twenty two years of life, I never hug my father or mother.

It was a little awkward for Ivy. She does not know how to react. I did tell her a little about my father and the Chinese tradition. She does what she does best, smile.

My parents were in a happy mood that day. We had lunch at home. They “interviewed” Ivy. Ivy did well. I guess if someone can play beautiful music in front of hundreds of people, they can face any challenge.

We did not stay long. After lunch, we drove back to Los Angeles. We did stop by Monterey Bay and got a glimpse of the famous Pebble Beach Golf Course. We stood by the Pacific Ocean; listen to the sound of waves crushing into the shore. I look at the happy seagulls. They were there, flying, making noises. No one tells them what to do. No one set rules for them. I wondered if they follow certain rules as far as which mate to have.

After our trip to Union City, Ivy returned to school. I returned to Stillwater and was getting ready for the new semester when the call came. Since the day Ivy met my father, I have been worried. Just being home reminded me of the Chinese rule. It has been ingrained in my mind from my younger years.

“Respect the elders.”

“It is important to be obedient to your parents.”

“Do not travel far when your parents are still alive.”

“There are three big disobedient ways towards your parents. The biggest one is not having offspring.”

“A son should not complaint that his father has no money. A father should not complaint that his son does not look handsome.”

I picked up the phone and said Hi.

“Wen, I need to talk to you about Ivy.” My father started.

“It looks like you and ma enjoyed her company.” I said.

“Yes, she is a lovely woman. She is smart. She is very mature. But, she is not Chinese.” Then he followed, “You do remember that you are Chinese, right?”

“Yes, I do.” I can feel my rebellious emotion creeping up my throat.

“Then why did you get into a relationship with a non-Chinese? Are you going to marry her?”

“Pa, she is not Chinese but we really love each other.”

“Love. Is that more important than being disobedient to your parent? To your family?” He said.

Knowing him, I knew what he is going to say next.

“Ha, now that your wings are bigger and stronger, you are ready to do your own thing right?”

I remained silent.

“Where did all the teachings that I gave you go? So those are garbage now, ha?”

I remained silent. My hand was sweating. I was holding the phone tighter.

“Look, you can marry her, but, over my dead body!” He yelled.

“Are you listening to me?” He yelled again.

“Yes, I am.” I said softly.

It brings back tons of old memories. Growing up was not easy. With my father’s temper, it felt like walking on egg shell at home. One time I pick up a superstition. It said that if your ears are itchy, someone is mad at you. So since then, every time my ears start to itch, I look for my father. If I see that he is not mad, I am relieved. He wanted me to excel so bad that during first grade, I went to bed at midnight just to master everything and make sure that I get an A in the test.

I did not remember how the call ended. All I remember was the ultimatum.

“YOU HAVE TWO WEEKS TO END THE RELATIONSHIP!”

I started the new semester in total chaos. I lost my appetite. I was still able to draw blood from my subjects. I skipped a few classes. The first call to Ivy was hard. I tried so hard to cover my pain. Ivy picked up the difference in my tone right away.

“Wen, what’s wrong? Ivy asked.

“Ivy, I am ok. There is some problem with my project, looks like we have to repeat the last batch of blood test.” I lied.

“Wen, there is more. I love you. I love our relationship. I want you to be open with me. Whatever it is, we can face it together.” She added.

I did not know how to continue. It feels like someone stab into my heart and split it into two parts. It seems like I cannot have it all. How can I be an obedient son and at the same time keep my love? How?

“Wen, it is your father. Right?” Ivy asked again.

“Wen?”

“You…you are right. It is my father.” I replied.

“He wants you to break up with me. Right?” She pursued.

“Ivy, I love you! I want you to remember that!”

“And?”

“Give me time. Please give me time.” I begged.

“Wen, I love you too! I do not want to see you struggling like that. The day I met your father, I can feel that he wants a Chinese daughter-in-law. He told me all his dreams for you. He wants you to have a bright future. He wants you to go to medical school and become a doctor.” Ivy said.

After we hang up, I decided to go for a walk. I ended up in the Student Union. There was a big bulletin board at the entrance. A flyer caught my attention.

PAINTING FOR INTUITION AND AWARENESS

CREATIVE BRUSH STUDIO

ONE DAY WORKSHOP

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH 10AM TO 4PM

CALL 405-299-8858

I look at it for a while. Painting. I used to love painting in grade school. I have not done it in a long time. I pulled a tab and called later. Intuition. That is another word that might help me.

Saturday morning came, I went to the class without any expectation. I want to get all the help I can to solve my dilemma.

Dorothy greeted me at the door. She has a studio at the back of the house. We first sat down and talk. Sharon was the other participant that day. Dorothy explained how she learned about intuitive painting. The goal is simple: there is no goal. We are there to play, to have fun. Through fun and freedom, we allow our intuition to come forward. There is no comment about our painting or the other person’s painting. We paint with what comes into our mind.

I put up the first paper. I grabbed the brush and looked at the different colors in front of me. Pink. That color stands out. I painted some spreading lines. It opens like a water lily. I got another color and painted another flower. Eventually, the scene of a water lily pond came out. It calmed me down.

On the second painting, I started with a red heart at the bottom. I put 2 hands at the bottom of the heart, one for my father and one for Ivy. I put some black lines on both sides, like vibrations. I put a black dot in the middle of the heart, that’s me.  I did not know how to proceed. I decided just to put little white dots on the black vibration lines on both sides. It’s like “She loves me, she loves me not…”

A few moments later, I drew feather like lines from the top of the heart. Then I put some red dots. I felt it is my heart exploding into pieces and my heart is yelling “how about me?”

I felt like leaving both of them. Just leave. Just walk away.

Dorothy came by and asked how I am doing. I explained to her my painting, what I was trying to decide. And as I turned a little and really look at her, I found a pair of blue eyes. Oh! Blue eyes. Serendipity? A message from the Universe?

Dorothy said, “That is what you know. There may be options that you do not know.”

Then she added, “Can you see other things or color that can be added to the painting?”

I look at the painting again. I can see yellow, red and orange colors all over and in the form of flowers.

“Yes. I can see yellow, red, and orange flowers all over.”

“Then go ahead and draw them.” Dorothy said.

I finished the painting with orange flowers all over. I felt that I got the answer. The choices are not either Ivy, my father or me. I do not have only one option. The future can include Ivy, my father and me.

That night, I prayed. I was grateful to have a father who nurtured me and gave me a home to grow up. I am grateful that I found my soul mate, Ivy. I am grateful that I found myself. I can be included in all the decisions that I make. I do not have to sacrifice. I am love. We are love.

It is as if I changed the vibration of the Universe. What happened next is beyond my comprehension.

Two days later, my father called.

“Ivy called me yesterday. She is a very smart lady. I am surprised how much she knows about the Chinese culture.” I held my breath.

He continued. “I do not know if it is you who told her, but she knows a lot about our family. I can feel that she really loves you. She did her research. I realized that it is important for us to keep our tradition. But in the end, it is more important for you to have someone who loves you and will be with you through good times and bad times.”

He paused. “Wen, I will not be with you forever. As a father, I want to see that you have a good supporting family. Whether you go to medical school or not is not important.”

I dropped my jaw. I was speechless.

All I can mutter was, “Pa, thank you. I really appreciate this!”

“Do not thank me. Thank Ivy. Call her.” He said.

I hanged up and walked out the dorm. The late afternoon sun is shining on the brick wall of our dorm. It seems that my whole world is glowing. I stood there, soak in the new energy.

“Life is good!”