Chapter Fifty Eight. Baby Talk

Baby Talk

Derby sat on the ferry in a surprisingly upbeat mood. He was actually giddy.

“Who would have guessed?,” he laughed and quizzed himself. “That being surrounded by so much turmoil and anxiety, that a person could feel as if windows, doors, passageways, tunnels, black holes, diamonds on the bottom of his souls, smaller than a bread box, bigger than a cup of cappuccino, friendsromansandcountrymen, ask not what your country can do for shoes, light switches, electrical currents, o-ho-thewellsfargowagonisacomin, were all being opened and as bad as some things can be, these are a few of my favorite things, yes folks, even though we’re not in Kansas any more and in spite of climate change and species loss, things are going to be A OK!”

Derby wondered about that last paragraph. He sort of looked at it in a kind of reverse, back-lit, back handed, back sliding, back door, back stage, back ache, back and forth, backgammon kind of way. “Does that make any sense ‘tall?”

Then he even answered himself, “You talking to me?”

Right then he felt a sweet little tap on his shoulder.

Once he realized he was in no danger, he greeted her politely.

“Tsu Yen? Where is your accomplice?,” he asked, referring to Zhong Li. “Don’t tell me, she can’t find her fountain pen?”

Tsu Yen seemed very tender and apologetic. “You not unlay san. We no eva mean to hurl you. All Zhong Li wan waus fo you to sign,” she said in the best English she could manage.

“Sign? You mean like…Sign Ze Paipa Oh Man?,” said Derby, showing his customary weakness for old Cheech and Chong material.

“We neva eva wan to hurl you,” Tsu Yen repeated.

“Honey comb,” started Derby in his all sweetness and light sentimentality. “First of all. It isn’t HURL you. To hurl someone means to throw them. Or another relatively new meaning since Dana Carvey and  Mike Meyers created Wayne’s World, to hurl means to puke.”

Tsu Yen expressed confusion by Derby’s words.

“Puke,” he continued, “You know, vomit, throw-up, lose your cookies, worship the porcelain goddess, blow chunks, burl, barf, bring back the groceries, lurch, spew, upchuck, Ralph, regurgitate, chunder…”

After a pause and his own conviction Tsu Yen didn’t have a clue what the hell he was talking about, he continued anyway, being so accustomed to the fact that most of the time no body understood anything he was trying to say anyway.

“So it isn’t that you Neva Wan to Hurl ME. Hurt. Hurt. H-U-R-T, HURT! You Neva Wan to Hurt me!,”

“Velly goo. Yes. You righ. You eeg zack lee righ. We no wan to hurl you,” confirmed Tsu Yen.

As the ferry cut through the bay, away from the sandy beaches of Lantau Island, Derby instinctively felt he was moving back. Back in time. Back toward normalcy. Back to central Hong Kong and a chance to return to the US. Back to a life with more contentment and less uncertainty.

“Misla Duhbey.”

Tsu Yen spoke softly. Suddenly when Derby looked at her she looked like a porcelain doll. Or as if she was made of precious origami paper. She wasn’t made up in customary Asian formal wear or accented with the cosmetics of a Geisha Girl, but her movements were marked by that respectful presence. “Is she Japanese?,” Derby found himself wondering.

“May I caw yo Misla Duhbey?,” she repeated cautiously.

The crowd of people on the ferry was a mixed bunch of international travelers. There were as many Americans as Europeans. Japanese travelers also were numerous, as were peoples from Thailand, Indonesia and the Mideast.

Even though Lantau was home to such populated towns as Mui Wo and Tai O, the ferry was mostly used by travelers visiting Disneyland. Derby and Tsu Yen were aboard the regular ferry, not the fast one, so the total travel time before they’d reach Central Pier was approximately an hour.

“Yes, Tsu Yen, you may,” Derby replied.

“Misla Duhbey…I sowwy,” here she blushed. You could imagine her hiding her face behind a decorated folding paper fan. “I weally a fwaid to ass yo, deez kwes ton.”

Derby was charmed by Tsu Yen and as suddenly as his euphoria about returning home had swept over him, he was once again captivated by a desire to explore feelings for a beautiful female.

“It is OK Tsu Yen. Speak freely,” he assured her.

Tsu Yen looked away as if she was speaking to one of the other passengers nearby.

“Missla Duhbey. We ul yo make a baby wif me?” As soon as she had spoken these words, she moved her head back toward Derby to make eye contact quickly, and then gently looked down, as if she was ashamed to have said what she said.

In spite of Derby’s weakness to be so easily attracted to beautiful women, he was totally unprepared for the question. He reached in his pocket for the comfort of the white and black marbles and realized he had given them to Mark. “Guess I wasn’t quite prepared to part with those magic balls yet!,” he thought to himself.

In place of using the marbles in his hands, he imagined turning them over. White around black, both smooth and round, revolving around each other. First the black one between his thumb and first finger, giving gentle pressure before folding it under so the white was there and the pressure and focus was on….

As he imagined turning the marbles it hit him all at once. Even though he had been so carefully instructed by Fredalnte that the white marble was pure Yang and the black marble was pure Yin, until now, Derby hadn't grasped the full impact of their significance.  But now, when he pretended to turn the smooth shiny orbs over and over, he was under the energy influence of Yang and Yin as he imitated the gestures of turning the two marbles in his fingers.

So as he felt the white marble between his thumb and first finger, he felt the burning sun of Yang. As the black marble seemed to land back in the prime spot, the cool wet calm of the moon came in to play.

“Why Tsu Yen would you say such a thing? We hardly know one another and I’m a happily married man?,” said Derby to the life-size, living, breathing, porcelain doll, now standing within inches of his body, so close that as the black marble came back into his imagination, he would swear that the hairs on their bodies stretched out toward each other.

“I weally not know Misla Duhbey, why,” she slowly raised her head back so that their eyes met.

Turning the marbles in his imagination, Derby was able to exercise some modicum of control. But instead of “knowing the male and keeping to the female” he felt a burning from the imaginary marbles, just as they had when he originally handled them.

They had generated enough heat that he felt compelled to put them away. As he stuck the imaginary marbles back into his pocket, he also threw away his limited self control. Thoughts of Jeninqua, Bai Ling, May West, Marilyn Monroe, Dianne Lane rushed in.

Derby and Tsu Yen kissed tenderly.