Blue Jacaranda
澳洲：何木
Chapter 3
The tears welled up in her eyes. Her nose was red, eyebrows screwed, eyelashes hung with teardrops.
Melody was in sorrow, weeping with the innocence of a child who was denied a bar of chocolate.
Amazed, and more confused, Peter stayed put, feeling the sobbing tremors underneath him. The way she expressed her sadness for a tree that had died naturally, was extreme, even ridiculous, way beyond her normal capacity for lavishing her emotions as an artist.
A tree was just a tree and there was nothing that should inspire so much pathos from it. Peter often heard of pet lovers grieving the loss of their pets excessively, though understandably. But, for a tree? He couldn’t get it...
Don’t get him wrong. He loved the tree as much as everybody else at the university. The students all looked up to it, because when it bloomed, it was their exam time. So, studying well before its blooming was a kind of motto for not failing their exams.
“Okay, okay, Melody,” he whispered, feeling a wave of compassion streaming into his heart. “Don't cry, baby, see, it is just a tree…”
“No, no, it is not just a tree, you dumb stupid,” she cried out, her eyelids batting against his lips. “It is my Australia, my home...”
“What...” Peter, in utter disbelief, suspected Melody was turned delirious by whatever conditions she had put herself in.
However, to avoid further working her up, by his ‘stupid’ comments, he brought his attention back to his man’s work, kissing and fondling everywhere about her, sinking into her deeper, with slower but strenuous power, which must be the best way to dissolve her stubborn sadness.
Peter had never felt more capable of himself. Right now he was spending all his love resources at his ease, on this teary, weak, and proud lady, the only female he had so far made love to. To a young and inexperienced adult, it was exceedingly fulfilling, and achieving, and confidence building. Her vulnerability put him in a stronger position and he never knew he could last this long. At some fleeting moments, he even fancied he was doing it to a completely different person, like some movie stars who exist only in his dreams.
?Melody was exceptionally passive, which was all the better for him. He didn’t need extra excitement from her often animated passion. Simply resting her hands on his back, she lay totally submitted, saving for her eyes that from time to time threw one or two resentful looks at him, as if he had done her great injustice, as if it were him who had caused all of her unhappiness.
After a long while of no verbal communication between them, Melody, whose tears were by now run dry, or kissed dry, by him, spoke, “Oh, Peter, the tree is 88 years old, exactly the same age as my grandma...”
Peter stiffened, “What? Are you not kidding, your grandma, that old?”
But Melody was unable to reply to him because, as Peter looked at her, she was immediately going through a second run of grievance, with tears and sobbs and tremors all happening again.
Melody had never mentioned her grandma to him. His knowledge about her family was more from other people than from herself. Everybody seemed to know she had a rich father, and she was the only child of his. But her family seemed to be a forbidden topic she didn’t like to touch upon.
“My grandma died two years ago, I even carved her name in the trunk of the tree.”
“Ah, really?” said Peter, awe-inspired. “But I heard the tree was already cloned a few years back, with two grafts ready to replant any time.”
Melody banged his back with her small fists, which was her only ‘violence’ this morning. “No, no, you dumb, how long will the little ones take to flowering? And how could they be the same? By the time it begins to bloom, we would have already left the university, who knows, I may have gone back to China, and no more…” Then on second thought, she said, “Peter, I know you plan to stay in Australia after graduation, but I am not so sure; my father asked me back, but said, up to me. I don’t know, Peter, will you go to Beijing together with me? If I ask? I beg?”
“Yes, Melody, no problem,” he said, with difficulty speaking out of her breasts. He could promise anything to this girl, this lady, this woman, this desire, this dream, this mystery, who cried under him begging him to love her.
Just at this moment, he lost his control, shedding his adulthood like a snake getting rid of its old skin.
He lay flat, nuzzling around her neck. He felt damp with perspiration on his forehead. He wanted to rest with her, sleep with her, but she stirred impatiently, “I want to go to Si-He-Yuan to see the tree for the last time.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, reluctantly rolling over from her. Si-He-Yuan, Beijing's Court House, was Melody’s special reference to the Quadrangle of the University where the tree was located. “Do you want to wash here or go back to Rhodes.”
“Of course back there, how can I use your dirty bathroom, and, shared...” she said nastily, emphasizing the word ‘shared’, gathering her things and hurried them on. “Quick, Peter, we got to run, or the tree is gone.”
Not in the least offended by her nasty words, Peter amusedly recalled the last night of her using the ‘dirty’ bathroom multiple times. But well, she was rather drunk, apparently, or was she? How about she was actually faking and meant to seduce him? After all, he gave his first time to her, whilst she was not ... Peter chuckled secretly at the funny ideas.
At Rhodes, where Melody owned a three-bedroom penthouse, he had waited at least two hours but still no sign of her Mercedes turning up. His neck was strained by his countless looking for her that should be coming up every minute from the road but never come. Was she still doing much of her makeup, like in the old days? He paced the sidewalk that must have marked hundreds of his footprints. Dozens of WeChat messages he had sent to her only returned a number of short messages of “I am coming”.
While his time was okay for her to waste, he was afraid the tree was right now being logged by the workers. He often saw Australians on the road, in their bright clothes, happily doing it, always with a peculiar smile on their face when they had downed a giant tree and cut it into pieces with their powerful chainsaws.
Melody’s sense of ‘quickness’ was vastly different between there and here. How long had it taken him to do his brushing and washing back there? Less than five minutes! And she kept nagging him that he was too slow, like a slow ‘pig’, and thanks to her memory, she still remembered his Chinese Zodiac. And one year older than him, she was a ‘dog’, and now ironically running way, way slower than a ‘pig’. Oh, my god…
If by himself, he would have gone there by train. Ashfield, where he lived, was only a few stops away from the city. But Melody insisted on driving her car, saying she was not used to the train, only taking it sometimes to avoid drink-driving. But frankly, he believed she was only used to showing off her expensive car.
Peter was boiling his impatience and felt more and more restless and irritated. However, instead of walking right away and dumping her again, as what he had been tempted to do, he only scolded her bitterly within himself.
So, he was rather dark-faced, when she had finally appeared after god-knows-how-long, and beckoned him smilingly to get on to the passenger seat of her car.
“Peter,” she said joyfully, not taking any notice of his seethed grumpiness, and freed up her left hand from the wheel patting him on his thigh, “Do you like my jeans? Just got it last week.”
Peter peered at her lower half, with little enthusiasm, noticed the ripped openness at her knees and thighs and legs. The tan skin thus exposed looked very touchable. “Can you wear it to the campus?”
Melody tossed her head, blowing her freshly shampooed and conditioned tresses. “Of course I can, and also remember today is Saturday.”
“Well…” Peter said, about to make some comments, but thinking it better, swallowing the unsaid - “and also remember today is a mourning day for your beloved tree, you should instead wear all in black ...”
Peter’s mood only turned north when half an hour later they had arrived at Stephens Street where she owned a parking permit. Getting out of her sportscar, Melody at once pushed her hand into his, and the feeling of her fingers almost immediately drove away his resentment against her.
In a pair of white sneakers, and on a light-brown T-shirt, Melody floated more than walked on their way to the campus. Her ripped jeans were daintily looking, with the skin exposure matching well with the colour of her T-shirt. And the most important thing was that she was not seen to have put on heavy makeup that used to make her face look unnaturally whiter, and her lips ghostly redder.
Quite a few people were strolling about campus and Peter wondered if they were all coming to say goodbye to the tree. And Melody, as if only then realizing the mission of the trip, hurried him on, dragging his hand, “Oh my god it is midday already, ah, the tree, we must run quick …”
The Fisher Library, as they passed, glared at them in the brilliant sun. From the colour of it, and its shape, it was the most modern building on the campus, compared to other sandstone castles. And certainly it looked very environmentally friendly, having the kind of structure as if clad by ‘solar-panels’.
The iconic Quadrangle was another giant, that was, as Melody had described, a bigger version of Beijing Courtyard House. Peter did not quite agree with her, citing the latter missing the four rockets like pinnacles and the clock and the standing chimneys and a lot of other things. But Melody would not hear of it, and was stubborn enough to always refer to the Quadrangle as the Xi-da (Sydney University) Si-he-yuan.
Melody’s mood changed as soon as they entered the quarters and spotted the fallen tree at the corner, which crouched like a wounded dinosaure. The whole area was tape-fenced, only a worker currently inside doing his inspection. Lucky, it was not being cut. A crowd was gathered around, taking selfies last time with the tree, with its 18-meter spread of canopy now plunged all over the place.
The tree had never looked so old as today, with its dark trunks and branches exposed for dominance, instead of the flowers or green leaves when it was standing. Purple flowers, like a shoal of orphans left behind by their mother tree, scattered on the ground, striking a sad contrast with the skeletons sprawling above them.
Momentarily, Peter recalled a famous line of a Chinese poem - The spring silkworms don’t stop threading until they die.
“The flowers are the tears,” Melody said quietly, after long lost in her own thoughts.
Peter held her into his arms, stroking her hair and ears gently to offer the minute of support. He knew Melody’s tears were welling up to the brim of a river.
Looking around, most people had serious sad expressions, but quite a few were laughing. And nearby, there was even a wedding party going on, which was fortunate, for the last time with the famous tree, or unfortunate, for not a good omen, with the dead tree as the backdrop. Their white flowers on their dress were only for funerals in Chinese custom, indeed fitting well to the tree’s demise.
Well, a tree is a tree. It was a special day after all, for their special life events.
Melody said, with a face filled with all the pity in the world, “I wanted some flowers to make a bouquet, could you go and get them for me?”
Peter looked around and noticed some people were actually holding flowers in their hands. They must have picked them earlier, he thought. But now the only chance to get some was to enter the fence.
“I will go and ask the worker,” he said.
Away he went, to a spot close to the bright-colored man. After ‘Excusing me’ him over, Peter explained to him carefully, “My girlfriend over there was very sad when she saw the news this morning. Can you imagine, her grandma was the same age as the tree. She wanted to pick some flowers still with twigs to make a bunch for remembrance, can you kindly help?”
The worker was very impressed, “No problem,” he said, and went straight away to gather a dozen of the flowers. He even trimmed the twigs nicely with his handy tools. Then he came back, “Is this okay for her?”
“Yes, this is very beautiful, thank you so much,” said Peter gratefully.
Melody kissed the petals, then kissed Peter on his cheek. A minute later, the wedding music started to play loudly, which was quite annoying.
“Let’s go,” said Melody.
“Okay, but would you like to take a picture before we go?”
Melody was hesitating, as if it were a difficult decision to make. She must be thinking it was a bad taste to make use of a dead corpse for a selfie.
“No, no need, it is in my memory forever,” she said at last.
Then, just as they turned their heels, Peter saw Lotus, his accounting classmate, from Chang-chun, and her boyfriend Jason, an IT guy from Chang-sha, were coming over.
“Hi Peter, and, yes, hi Melody ... oh, how beautiful are your flowers, so you guys also knew it early and have hurried over.” Lotus greeted them with her typical amiable smile. From the way she looked at them, she must be very surprised at seeing them together again. They knew each other in the Chinese students circle. Besides, Melody was well-known by her ‘wealth’ and her expensive car, and of course by much gossip about her boyfriends.
“Yes, it is very sad, isn’t it?” Peter said, with an arch smile that effectively told her that Melody was his girlfriend again.
Then four of them lined up along the yellow tape, and Jason, known as an active and talkative person, addressed the group. “The tragedy was caused by the terrible storm last night, but we all know the tree has been sick for years, some disease getting to the base and couldn’t be cured by simply cutting it off. You know what, the university is going to plant its clone graft in the same place. The graft was already growing somewhere just waiting for this final day. Ah, very sad but also hopeful, isn’t it?”
Peter, thinking of the high wind last night, took a chance to contribute to the conversation, “Yes, yesterday was a tragedy.”
“Funny you see that, the wedding is still going on,” Jason chuckled. “If I were them, I wouldn’t have the gut doing that. How strange was the culture, and how different it is from our Chinese, haha. And see, they were wearing white flowers for their marriage, on the back of a dead tree...don’t they have any idea what they are doing?”
“Jason, please,” Lotus turned to him, “don’t speak so loudly, you are being heard.”
“How is it possible? They are so far away,” Jason shrugged it off, “and they don’t understand Chinese anyway.”
“Well, well,” Peter intervened, “maybe they think it is kind of special, and they have to keep the weeding on, for re-planning it overnight is almost impossible.'' Then Peter changed the topic, thinking it was impolite to give such a harsh comment to others, even though he didn't disagree with Jason. “And where are you guys planing to do today, I mean after this place?”
But before he got their answer, he turned to Melody, “Melody, are you hungry, maybe we should first go somewhere to eat?”
Melody looked up, with her sombre eyes. “I don't have an appetite. But if you do, we will go, maybe to Manning House, for a quick one, for you?”
“Then you guys go,” Jason said, “Lotus and I had our breakfast already, we would just stay a little longer, catch you guys later then,” then on another thought, he added, “And hey, Melody, when is your next party? I am looking forward to it.”
From Jason’s words, Peter realized Melody must have held many parties at her Penthouse during the year without inviting him, which made him feel a little sour, and he grabbed Melody’s hand with increased force.
Manning House was the centre of University of Sydney Union (USU), the closest place where they could find food and drink. Peter ordered a sandwich, and a sushi for Melody without asking her, and Melody, after the first hesitating bite, at last found her appetite, and in the end finished the whole plate. And, further, with a bottle of orange juice that must have also reinvigorated her, her face began to show healthy colour.
“So, Melody, what to do today?” Peter asked, thinking it proper to discuss a day’s schedule with her, now that he was sure Melody was his girlfriend again. And also, he wouldn’t have many days to spare during the holiday, in his need to find his next part-time job.
“If without today’s tragedy, we could go anywhere, to the beach, or even driving to the central coast, or hunter valley, or even Jervis Bay to see the star-river, staying there for a few days, but,” she sighed, “I don’t feel good for any of them today, I want to sleep.”
They were about to leave the house, when Melody changed her mind, “Hang on, I need to do something. Let’s go back to my car, I need to get my paint to do a Graffiti.”
Peter was confused, “Graffiti, why? “
Melody got up and took the lead, “I will tell you later.”
Back to her car, Peter was confronted with a mess in the car’s boot, filled with all types of stuff, much worse than the main chamber. Melody, after putting the flower in the front seat, began to rummage through a beehive of clothes, hats, shoes, plastic bags, paint-boxes, even a number of wine bottles, empty or full, until she pulled out three tubes of paint from the rubbish-warehouse, and declared, “See, still plenty for today’s work.”
The Graffiti Tunnel was near the Manning House. Melody went straight, through a forest of colours, to her favorite spot and set off working as a passionate artist.
“You see, that dragon, and dog?” she said, pointing at the two figures that Peter identified as the two Chinese Zodiac animals.
“I know you are Dog, but why a Dragon?” asked Peter, shading his nose as the paint smell intruded his nostril.
“It was for my grandma, born in 1928, Dragon.”
“Oh, I see,” said Peter, who still had some unanswered questions, such as why she only painted her grandma’s, neither her parents, nor her grandpa. But seeing her fully concentrated on the work, he decided to ask her later.
And it didn’t take long for a mini jacaranda tree to take shape on the wall. After this, Melody went to paint a Pig which took her another minute. Then she went on enhancing the faded Dragon and Dog.
Peter looked at them admiringly, “Melody, you are a true genius. Now I know how you artists are really different from us dumb accountants and engineers.”
“Well, we are also dumb in your areas,” Melody smiled a little, “In some ways you guys can one day become an artist, while the possibility of us switching to your areas is next to zero. That is why, you see, I see you as a better friend. We can complement each other, don’t you think so, Peter?”
“Well, yes, differences do help a couple, but differences may also prevent mutual understanding. And all types of art need a lot of training from a very young age, I don’t think people can get to it easily.”
“All done,” Melody put down the paint tubes, stepping back to give a thorough appreciation of her works. “Let’s take a picture.”
Pictures taken, they both sat down on the colorful stairs. Peter felt his nose had already got used to the smell, for he no longer felt it as offending as before. And he found it hard to believe Melody had not shown any dislike of the smell, as though she were born with it.
“Oh, so tired,” Melody said and, finding Peter’s lap convenient for use, threw half of her body into it, “I want to sleep.”
Peter was patting her gently, and to his amazement Melody was soon asleep. What an easy and carefree girl she is, Peter smiled, stooping to kiss her hair. No doubt she was very tired, for which he felt responsible for bothering her up to three times last night, and again a long time this morning.
Then, he made a mental note that he should not forget to go to the pharmacy to get a package of condoms. Melody said she was kind of safe last night, but emphasized they must be more and very careful in the future.
Melody had slept about ten minutes, until Peter came to realize she was behaving naughty in her feigned sleep. She must have sensed the minute of his arousal and with her head she was now and again ‘accidentally’ squeezing it.
“You bad girl, I know you are awake,” he broke out, knocking her head with his fingers, like a monk on a wooden fish.
“Hahaha,” she laughed in full mirth, highly amused. “You bad egg!”
“Actually it was a Good egg, but someone turned it Bad.”
“Now the bad egg has turned into a shameless egg.”
“Melody, I think we both got it wrong, biologically speaking, it is you, not me, who belongs to an egg.”
“Then what do you belong to? Erh, a bad sperm?”
“Haha, whatever,” Peter chuckled, with his laughter echoing through the tunnel, “maybe it is time to show your painting skills again, how about pouring an egg and a sperm on the wall, or maybe up there on the ceiling?”
“No,” she got up from him. “You dirty egg, this is my sacred place, nothing like that.”
Peter didn’t get it, “Sacred? How could Graffiti be sacred?”
“All other Graffitis across the world are not, except this,” she looked at him seriously, “it was sacred to me.”
Peter sustained her look, “you do have a story to tell, don’t you Melody?”
“If I tell it to you, you must promise to love me forever,” she said, challengingly.
“Yes I promise,” Peter said, at once proving himself by giving her a very hard, sucking kiss on her cheek, leaving it white and pink.
Thus satisfied, Melody sat up straight, took a breath, and began to tell her Once-upon-a-time.
~To Be Continued~
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