Cross the road to reach the park on the other side. Look up, then you will see an arrow pointing to the gates. Turn the corner and at the entrance to Zhōngshān Park is a big gate.
I repeat in my mind the instructions Ān Chén gave me when I asked her how to get to the park.
I leave the lobby of Bì Yù’s apartment. The sky is angry, shouting balls of ice from the sky. They hit me hard on my head and shoulders. I walk slowly as I am alone, no one is pushing me in my special chair today. My breath is difficult to take in and let out. It was a good thing I brought the air tank for my lungs.
Cross the road.
I look to the left and I look to the right. The streets are more quiet than normal. I can see puffs of warm air leaving my lips. As I am walking on the wide road, an old man on a bicycle goes past me. On the back, in a basket, he has two little white dogs. I have to stop and watch because they are so cute.
I hear a beeeeeeeeeeeeep of a car horn, too close. I drop my air tank when I put my hands over my ears. A man gets out of a blue taxi. Even though my hearing is shut, I can still make out his sounds. He spits rude words into my face in Chinese: rude words that would make Wài Pó very upset.
My poor little heart is moving fast and heavy in my wet chest. I am feeling a bit dizzy now. I cough, pick up my air tank and put the mask over my mouth. The shouting stops.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep comes again. I want to lie flat on the ground, but then I hear Louis’s calm voice in my head. He says, My dear, sweet Harper, all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other one.
I remember him saying this the last time I wanted to cross the road in Hong Kong, and I was a bit scared by all the noises. He told me to count my steps: ‘One, two, three, four…’
So, this is what I do.
The cold feels like big fish with sharp teeth, biting at my bare skin. I pull the hood of my jumper over my head and walk on. Five, six, seven… My hood keeps falling off and I only have two hands, so I stop again to fix it.
Beeeeeeeeeeeep. I drop my special air tank again and my mask falls down with it. My chest is tight like there are big hands around my heart, strangling it. With all my strength, I move as fast as I can to the pavement. Eight, nine, ten… I’m nearly there. I can feel my heart shiver and shake. I might be sick. Eleven, twelve, thirteen… there is a fire in my throat… fourteen… whoosh. My heart skips one beat and I arrive onto the pavement. It is very hard to get air into my lungs, so I sit on a bench. I want to tell Louis about how brave I have been and the thought makes me feel happy. But I cannot feel happy for long, because in front of me I can see my poor, old air tank getting knocked about by wheels of the cars on the road. Poor old air tank.
I try to remember what Ān Chén said to do next: Look up, then you will see an arrow pointing to the gates. I stand, but I am a bit wobbly. It is like the blood from my head is travelling at high speed into my feet. I grab hold of the side of the bench but do not sit down. I have to keep walking, before it is too late.
As I walk, I listen to the sound of my breath. It is like a grumpy old man growling. I look up and see a green arrow the same colour as the trees, I follow it around the corner. Turn the corner and at the entrance to Zhōngshān Park is a big gate.
I see it in front of me! It looks strong, tall and has a dark brown roof and cream walls. The colours together remind me of vanilla ice cream with melting chocolate on top.
The sounds from the street outside become quiet. Above me and around me are trees, their long arms, vines and roots reach together and touch above my head in a half-moon shape, covered in pink blossoms. The petals fall to the ground like whispering snow. It feels like a wedding day, so bright and full with colour. I forget about all my body pains for a moment and continue down the path as if I am floating. I remember how Mum used to bring me, Marlowe and Bì Yù here to play when we were small. After Mum died, Wài Pó brought us. I still feel Mum’s spirit with me when the leaves on the trees pat and shiver like the sound of falling rain.
Her blossoms are a darker shade of pink than the rest. No plums yet, but I know when the season changes, they will come. There is a deep mark that Marlowe and Bì Yù made on her trunk when they were small. It is in the shape of a star. They did it with a pen knife and the sharpness of it made me cry. I told them that was a very mean thing to do.
‘I am so sorry,’ I say, touching the star with my fingertip.
My hands wrap around her trunk and I lean in. She is rough, but she feels warmer than the air.
Even though I am wearing a thick coat, I am sweating. My body is hot and cold hot and cold hot and cold.
I move my hands all the way down to where the base of her ripples under the soil. This is where she takes life. She is a strong tree.
My chest hurts again, like a tight tight tight squeeze. I crouch down onto my knees. My sound thumps loudly in my head: Da dum da dum da da dum. I feel a danger in my heart. No, it can’t be.
I look up again.
Oh, my special tree, look at how you have grown. Your branches are so long now, and full of colour. I sit by her on the earth and lean my head against her trunk. Da da dum dum, da dum da dum…
I am so tired now. So very, very tired.