February 2017, continued
Michael, sitting next to him, sighed. "It's kissing with tongues, Ming Lim." Louder, he called out, "He forfeits. What's the penalty?"
Ming Lim looked cross-eyed at his roommate. "Why should I forfeit? Because I've never kissed a girl before?"
Amid calls to chug, Michael leaned in to whisper in Ming Lim's ear. "Forfeit because I'm the one who's supposed to kiss you."
"You don't want to kiss me…." For some reason, this made Ming Lim angry.
"It doesn't matter what I might want!" Michael hissed. "You've already made it crystal clear that you're not into guys. And that's fine. But if you decide to try it out, I think you should be sober when you do!" He stood up and yanked MIng Lim to his feet. "Sorry, guys. He's drunk off his ass…. His uncle will kill me if I bring him home like this. Eleanor? Can I have your room key? I need to sober him up a bit." Key in hand, Michael walked Ming Lim down the hall to the bathroom, helped him to wash his face and rinse his mouth, and then practically carried him to Eleanor's dorm room. Head spinning, Ming Lim collapsed on one of the beds.
"Too bright…" Ming Lim whined.
"Eleanor needs a night light or she gets nightmares." Michael removed the other's shoes, and shoved him. "Scootch over."
"Wèishéme?" Why?
"Yīnwèi... you're either sleeping with me or you're sleeping with Becky. Or you're sleeping on the floor. No way in Hell you're sleeping with my sister." The bed was too narrow for the two to sleep on their backs. Michael pushed and prodded at Ming Lim until they were both lying on their sides, back to back.
"Sleep with you," Ming Lim murmured. "Prettier than Becky. What's eye-fucking?"
"What you were doing back in our room. Undressing someone with your eyes."
"Oh. But you weren't wearing any clothes. How can I undress you if you're not wearing anything?"
"Wǎn'ān." Good night.
"Michael? Do you want to eye-fuck me?"
Michael rolled over in the cramped space. "Do you want me to?"
"No," but his head was nodding yes. "Michael?"
"Shuìjiào ba." Go to sleep.
Ming Lim turned over. "Why do you wear an eye mask and a clothespin when you play music?"
"It's sort of like sensory deprivation." Drunk eyes peered into sober, showing a complete lack of understanding. "When I can't solve a problem, it's usually because there's too much crap filling up my head. So I play music to clear things out. The mask prevents me from seeing anything but the problem. And the clothespin hurts! Keeps me focused."
Michael wasn't too sure how much Ming Lim had heard or understood: his eyes had drooped closed, and he was breathing steadily halfway into the explanation. If you're straight, why do you want me to eye-fuck you? If you're not…. Don't dip your quill in the company ink was a rule for a reason. Don't sleep with your roommate was most likely a corollary to that rule. I don't think I'd mind it, though…. Those eyes…. Long and narrow with an uptilt at the corners that girls spent hundreds of hours each year imitating with make-up. When they opened wide in astonishment, they were, quite possibly, the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. The nose wasn't much to write home about…. Not too small, but not honking, either. His top lip was on the thin side, but his bottom lip…. Oh, dear Lord. That bottom lip was designed to be nibbled on. And sucked. That was a 4k quality porno lip…. They were almost the same height, maybe half an inch difference, so if they ever did kiss, neither one would be getting a sore neck…. Who said I want to kiss my fucking roommate…. He reached up and ran his index finger over that perfect lip only to have his roommate shift his hips and moan. Having a good dream, are we? Michael rolled over and shifted lower in the bed so he could cover his head with the blankets; enveloped in the darkness, he fell asleep.
And when he woke up the next morning, it was to find himself half lying on top of Ming Lim's stomach and chest, cuddling the guy like he was a freaking teddy bear! He even had one arm threaded through the other's legs and his hand was clutching Lim's ass! Avoiding his panicked roommate's eyes, he untangled himself, mumbling, "Sorry. I was dreaming I won one of those huge stuffies at the Big E."
"What's a Big E?" It was obvious Ming Lim was trying to sound normal, but his voice was slightly higher pitched. The poor guy was probably afraid to kick me out of bed in case I grabbed his junk on the way down…
"It's a huge state fair in the western part of the state. Farmers compete to see who has the biggest pumpkin, best looking goat, shit like that. But there's also a carnival section with rides and games, and if you've got amazing skills, you can win these freakin' huge stuffed animals. Like taller than you and me."
It was a quiet trip back to the other side of the river. Michael let Ming Lim head up to their room alone. He supposed the man might need some time alone to get over being drunk for the first time. And all the sexual shit that went on the night before. Does he even remember telling me that I'm pretty? Or that he wants me to check him out? Shaking his head, Michael headed into the carriage house to see what Sheng Lin was up to.
The tattooed man was fiddling with what looked to be an old fashioned, wooden printing press. After greeting each other good morning, Sheng Lin patted the machine proudly, "This was your fourth prototype, do you remember? The first one you forgot to account for the weight of the blocks, so it collapsed right away. And the second… I never understood why you put Qiū on top of it! Especially when he was already crawling! You must have known he'd try to crawl off…."
Michael blinked at the other man. Sometimes his English was Oxford perfect and other times…. Dude? Sometimes you sound seriously freaking weird, man. But all he said was, "Interesting. I never heard any of those stories about Gutenberg."
"Who?"
"Gutenberg. The inventor of the printing press. I always thought he made his presses out of metal, though…. Maybe it was just after they went into production…."
"He must be the European inventor or something. In the 1400s? 1500s? Yes? Ah… dui. He made a bible, I remember now…. No, Yílíng Lǎozǔ made this centuries before the Europeans came up with the idea. It was easy for him to design the machine; the problem was the paper and ink. Chinese paper at the time was too thin and tore easily when fed into the machine. And the ink was not suitable, either. It took him another two decades to find someone who could perfect the ink and paper so the machine would work…. As soon as you got everything working, you sent the third prototype off to Cloud Recesses so Zéwú-jūn could print out his library for you.
"Yílíng Lǎozǔ amassed the largest library in the ancient world, even larger than the library at Alexandria. He gave the devices to the various publishing houses for free as long as they gave him a copy of every single book they published. It didn't matter if it was a literary treasure or third-rate porn; you loved the idea of having information right there for everyone to have…. Too bad your successors didn't feel the same way…. A'Yuàn managed to save most of it…. It's now stored in a bunch of those temperature controlled rooms at the QishanWen original headquarters. I'll show it to you sometime…."
Here he is talking about this Yiling guy again. First he's a reincarnatable Jedi and now an inventor? This is some Paul Bunyun level shit. Is reincarnateable even a word? "This Yílíng Lǎozǔ sounds interesting. Too bad my history class on China was like a chapter long."
Sheng Lin sighed, sadly. "You won't find him in any current history books…. Not long after the ability to form a JīnDān and cultivate spiritual energy was lost, his name was relegated to mythology and fairy tales…. And most of those stories were lost long before Gutenberg created his own printing press…. It was only Lán SīZhuī and his descendants who have kept the history intact. Even Yílíng Lǎozǔ's direct descendants forgot who he was and what he stood for after a few generations…. I suppose that it was easier for Lán SīHhuī's to remember him since I was right there." Michael rolled his eyes, mentally not physically, at that. Like this college kid was really over a thousand years old!
They chatted for a bit more until Michael felt like his roommate had had enough time to shower, change, and go hide or whatever. He decided to act as if it was completely normal to have your roommate stare at your body like it was a lollipop he wanted to lick and call you pretty. And wake up with your arm between his legs and your hand gripping his ass. Nothing to be ashamed about or bothered over.
It was, however, a rather nice ass to grip. A very nice combination of plush and muscle…. Not that he had any experience with gripping anyone else's ass….
It was hard to return to the previous normal, though, when Ming Lim insisted upon looking like a puppy being kicked by a bully every time Michael had a date, platonic or otherwise. With the new semester underway, a few girls had asked him to go out with them on the weekends. And a few guys even invited him to a hockey game or basketball game. It appeared the stigma of being sixteen was alleviated by his popularity with some of the professors and/or his perfect scores on the final exams since at least half of the 'dates' were preludes to requests for tutoring. Although one of his dates was not subtle at all in letting him know the tutoring would be private and sans clothing. Since he had also shown Michael some pictures of his favorite whips and dildos, Michael had noped out of that one. He might be interested in experimenting with such things after he'd lost his virginity, but not during, thank you very much.
It came to a head for Ming Lim about a month and a half after that Friday night. Michael was getting ready to head out to watch a March Madness game. There were a bunch of guys all going together, one of whom knew a bouncer who would probably let them into the bar to watch the game as long as they stuck to sodas. Michael was holding up various pieces of clothing trying to decide which ones made him look old enough to not be immediately thrown out by any passing cops for obviously being underage. And Ming Lim sat on his bed watching him: jaw clenched and those beautiful eyes glittery with unshed tears. "Stop looking at me like that. I said you could come with me! Just wear something that doesn't look so preppy and shit."
"Looking at you like what?"
"Like I just killed your best friend or something. Or… like you're jealous."
Ming Lim stood up, fists clenched. "I'm not jealous!"
"Good! Change your clothes and let's go!"
Ming Lim stared at his roommate. "You're an idiot." He, too, had tried to return to normal. But how could he return to 'normal' when all he could see when he closed his eyes was Michael's perfect body. All he could feel when he laid down at night was the comforting weight of Michael's head on his chest, and the hand holding his bum. When he jacked off in the shower, it was Michael's hand he imagined was rubbing his dick. Michael, who might or might not be gay, invaded every single aspect of his life, and then went out on dates with girls! Or worse, with guys! Ming Lim was in agony day after day, lusting after his roommate, and this roommate had no clue! I'm not gay! Why do you make me feel like this!?
Michael's voice was muffled as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "No, I'm not. My mother had me tested." When Ming Lim just blinked at him, not understanding the reference, he sighed. "Seriously dude… if we're ever going to be friends, you need to watch the Big Bang Theory." When that still earned no response, he sighed again, nodded towards his roommate's fists, and spread his arms wide, exposing his bare chest. "Do you wanna hit me? Will that make you feel better? Go ahead. Just not my face or my junk, OK?"
Ming Lim was paralyzed at the sight of all the bare skin. He swallowed again and again, desperately trying to get some spit back into his mouth.
Michael, who was not a complete idiot when it came to people, slowly lowered his arms. "Do… do you like me?" Ming Lim jumped and shook his head no, eyes spreading even wider in panic. "But you said you weren't gay…."
Ming Lim stopped shaking his head, worried that a 'no' would be taken as a negation of 'not gay' instead of confirming 'not gay'. I'm not gay. Honest. I just fantasize about you. Only you…. Āiyā! Don't come near me! Michael's step forward had Ming Lim stumbling backwards to fall onto his bed. "Nǐ gàn shénme?" What are you doing?
"Nǐ xǐhuān wǒ ma?" Do you like me?
"Bù xǐhuān." Ming Lim wanted to yell, but it came out in a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would erase the imprint Michael's body had on his brain. A few very long seconds later, the door opened and shut and then he heard Michael telling someone he was headed out to watch a game. I can't live like this! I can't live with him! He looked through the wall towards the carriage house and Uncle Song. But that man wouldn't change his answer; he'd still insist on the texting five friends thing. I don't have five friends. The closest he had to a friend, now, was the reason he wanted to leave this house in the first place! The second closest... He picked up his phone and hit the call button. "DaJie… Nǐ hěn máng ma?" Are you busy?
He could almost head Eleanor's smile through the phone…. "A'Lim… Bù máng. Hold on a minute." He heard footsteps and a door shut. "Sorry. I was in a friend's room; they're going to watch the game."
"Oh, sorry. I'll call you later."
"No! I hate basketball. S'up?"
Now that he had her on the line, how does he say that her brother was bothering him? "Is Michael gay?" He smacked his forehead; that was not what he wanted to say.
"Did he do something to you? That little shit! He knows better than to come on to someone who's not interested. Just tell him to fuck off for now, and I'll smack him for you next time I see him."
"He hasn't done anything…. It's just… In China, most families have issues with their sons being gay…." He smacked his forehead again. But he couldn't outright ask his question when he didn't even really know what he wanted to ask!
Eleanor breathed heavily into the phone. "If he's gay, that's the closest to normal he'll be. He almost died before he was born, and with all the other crap he had to go through…. My parents would have loved if he was only 'just gay'."
"He almost died? What other crap?"
"You've been roommates for almost three months and he's never talked to you about this? Hold on. I'm going to hang up and send you some stuff. Read it carefully, and then call me back if you want to talk more."
The first text had a link to a newspaper article talking about a miracle surgery: a twin delivered by C-section two and a half months early, the other one delivered eight weeks later. I knew he had a younger brother… I didn't know they were twins! And then the date on the article caught his eye. Michael's only sixteen? He knew Michael and Eleanor were both freshmen in college, but he had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that she was less than a year older and had started school at six while Michael had started at five and that's why they were in the same year…. He hadn't guessed that Michael had skipped two grades!
The second text was a picture of an admission letter to MIT. Why she sent it, he had no idea.
The third was a link to a document at a New Hampshire State College: a Master's Thesis. He tried to read it, but it was very technical…. Other than a few Calculus related words, like derivative and integral, he understood almost none of it. Why is she sending me this?
The fourth text said: pay attention to the dates. The first article was written in January of 2001. He clicked on the picture and zoomed in on it: March 2012. Michael was admitted to MIT when he was eleven? How... The date on the thesis was May 2016, authored by Michael Wu. He called Eleanor back, "DaJie… I don't understand. How is Michael a freshman if he was accepted five years ago? How does he have a Master's degree?"
"I think it would be better if you asked him these questions yourself. The short answer is: he's a genius. Member of Mensa and everything. My parents wanted him to grow up as normal as possible, so…. MIT wanted him to start his PhD last fall, but he insisted on getting all three degrees in Engineering…. So he's like a Freshman in that he's in Freshman classes, but he's actually in a post-baccalaureate program.
"To circle back to your question about whether or not he's gay…. From things he's said, I think he's more bisexual or bi-curious than homosexual…. But I've never asked, I never will ask, and quite frankly, I don't care. As long as he's happy and with someone who loves him…. That's more important to me than whether I get a sister-in-law or brother-in-law. I think my parents are the same…. They almost lost him once; they're not going to deliberately lose him if he falls in love with a man.
"Does it bother you that he might be gay? I mean… if you tell him you're straight, he should leave you alone…. My parents taught us that only a clear and sober yes means 'yes', anything else, including silence, means a very firm 'no'."
"Méishì." It's fine. "He hasn't done anything."
"Ahhh…" Eleanor sighed into the phone. "LimDidi…. yes means yes," she repeated. "Anything else, including silence, means a very firm no."
They ended the phone call shortly after that, and Ming Lim collapsed onto his bed pondering her statement. Of course, yes means yes. What else is it supposed to mean? In what universe does yes mean no? He still had no answers when Michael came back home. "Did you win?"
Michael paused at the door. "I think so? I don't follow the game. My guys were happy, so…. Can I turn the light on?" Receiving a sound that sounded like it might be an affirmation, he flipped the switch. He grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from a drawer and headed towards the bathroom.
"Michael? What does 'yes means yes' mean?"