Harper

It is a Wednesday night and that means it is disco night – it is written in my diary with purple ink – but I am missing it. I am in the emergency part of the hospital again, this time because of a fever. To be honest, I don’t like missing disco night, and I am finding it hard not to think about all my friends having fun without me.

It is strange to be back in hospital again so soon, but I am here with Dad and Wài Pó. Dad is on his mobile phone a lot and Wài Pó is asleep in her chair. Louis tried to stay with me for a while instead of going to disco night, but it was making him anxious because things were different in his routine. He was looking at his watches a lot and jumping about on his toes. He finds it harder than me to stay calm when there is change. I am not upset he is gone, because I have ways of cheering myself up.

Every time I go to hospital, I take my small, yellow photo album with me. In the first photo, my mum and dad are in the garden, looking at each other with a spark of romance in their eyes. Next there is Wài Pó and me cooking in the kitchen. I was only fifteen years old and Wài Pó had more black hairs than grey. Then there is a photo of Marlowe and me holding hands when we were small. We were wearing matching blue dresses that my dad got us for Marlowe’s birthday. On the very last page, there is a new photo of me and the love of my heart, Louis. We are sitting in the garden, holding hands with matching smiles on our faces.

When I am feeling sad or scared, I think of the day when Louis and I first met. It is a day when something really good happened in my life.

I was shopping with Wài Pó for spring roll filling – minced chicken, carrots, chives, cabbage, and spring roll wrappers. Then I heard with my ears someone shouting. The voice said: ‘I just need to find one more dollar.’ He had an American accent. I know all about this kind of accent because my speech therapist, Mrs Green, is American.

Me and Wài Pó were making our way to the check-out counter but in front of us was a long line of people with moody faces. They were shaking their heads and making ‘tut tut’ noises at the man who was holding up the queue.

‘Please, sir, step aside and let the other customers come through,’ the check-out lady said.

‘No, I cannot do that,’ said the man, ‘because I know I have one dollar somewhere in one of my pockets and it is three thirty-three pm and I have to be home at three thirty-five pm. There is only two minutes left.’

I walked closer to the man and saw from behind that he had hair the same colour as gingerbread. He was wearing a very nice suit and I thought to myself, This man looks very smart.

The lady at the counter called for help in Chinese, and two men in blue clothes walked towards the smart man and grabbed his shoulders. He turned and I saw on his face that he had freckles, a small, friendly-looking nose and the Up syndrome, like me.

‘Wait,’ I said importantly, in my loudest voice. I put my hand into my purse and took out one dollar and gave it to the smart man. He looked at me and a bit of ginger hair fell over his eyes. I wanted to brush it away with my fingers.

‘You should give her the money before she calls the police and puts you in prison,’ I said.

So, he did. Then he took his bags and one of his watches rang with an alarm. He had two watches on his arm. As he was switching off the sound, I saw the time 3.35 pm flashing. But the man did not move. He just stared at me again, and then I got a swirly jumpy feeling in my belly, right near my buttonhole.

‘Míng Huà!’ Wài Pó was calling from the queue of waiting customers who were looking with their eyes. ‘Míng Huà, come back.’

‘My name is Louis.’ The man gave me his hand and I took it. The soft parts of our skin inside our palms were warm together as they touched. I felt a smile on my face.

‘My name is Harper,’ I said. ‘How come I’ve never seen you around here before?’

‘I am new. I am from the United States of America, New York, Manhattan. I moved here three months ago, and I am Jewish. In New York, I was a waiter at the Honeybee Cafe, but here in Hong Kong I am unemployed. I cannot get a job here.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It is three forty pm. Now I am late.’ Louis jumped from side to side like he needed to pee. ‘I’ve got to go now.’

I felt sad in my heart, so I looked at the floor.

‘Do you have a home or mobile phone?’ he asked, and then the swirling started again.

He took out a shiny pen from his pocket.

‘Yes.’ My cheeks were a bit hot. ‘Yes I do.’

‘I would like to call you tomorrow night at seven pm just before my dinner at seven thirty and then the news at eight. We could chat. If you would like to chat with me, I would like that very much.’

‘I would like that very much too.’

I told him my phone number and I saw that he wrote his number two backwards and in a funny shape, but that was okay with me.

‘Goodbye, Harper. Thank you for your help with the money. I was never very good with money, ever since I was a baby.’

‘Well I am very good with money. I always have a lot of money in my purse.’

Louis brushed his gingerbread hair from his face and waved at me. I waved back.

A yellow flower on my pillow.

Louis was here.

He is always with me, even when I am dreaming.

This is love.