Page 19 of Don't Point at the Moon

When Mitchell drew close, he saw Tommy sitting outside on one of the high tables, checking his phone. Only a handful of people had ventured out Monday night, but Mitchell noticed three men at a nearby table blatantly appraising Tommy. As Mitchell approached, one of the group stood up, goaded on by the others, and picked up his beer bottle, ready to walk over.

“Tommy,” he called out, noticing that when Tommy looked in his direction and waved, the man aborted his approach.

“I appreciate this,” said Mitchell at the table. Tommy had a champagne flute of something sparkling. “Let me get you another. What is that? Prosecco?”

“Let me buy. Still haven’t thanked you properly for saving me. And this is ginger ale because it’s a school night.”

“After the day I’ve had, I could use something stronger, but I’ll have the same.”

While Tommy headed inside, Mitchell took a deep breath of humid evening air and peered around. He loved the sensory bustle of Hong Kong. Accompanying the sound of distant traffic, a vaguely familiar Cantonese pop song sounded from deepinside the bar. Somewhere along the lane, light shone from the back door of a café, the odour of frying noodles from the kitchen mingling with the night’s musk and making his mouth water. Thick branches of an ancient banyan tree overhung that section of the lane, and when he looked up through the trellised limbs, he could see a full moon. Tonight, a beautiful halo accompanied the celestial phenomenon.

“What are you looking at?” asked Tommy, placing a glass of red wine in front of Mitchell.

“There’s a full moon tonight,” said Mitchell, prodding his forefinger into the night sky.

“You shouldn’t do that. Point at the moon,” said Tommy as he sat down.

Ever conscious of being culturally insensitive, Mitchell pulled his hand down and peered around to see if anyone else had noticed. His mood of wonderment had dissolved into one of mild embarrassment.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Tommy, grinning impishly. “A superstition my Taiwanese grandmother taught us as kids. Those who point at the moon risk having bits of their ears fall off.”

“What?” Mitchell choked, which made Tommy’s smile broaden. “I’ve heard superstitions about not looking at the full moon through glass, but never that one.”

“Honestly, I think it’s a way to teach kids not to point at strangers. But according to my grandma, legend has it that Chang’e, the Chinese goddess banished to the moon for stealing her consort’s potion of immortality, didn’t like people pointing at her. If she caught anyone doing so, her vengeance was to cut off bits of their ears.”

“Brutal.”

“That’s Chinese mythology for you. Filled with cautionary tales.”

“Whereas in Europe the Brothers Grimm only wrote happy and cuddly stories with loveable characters to give children sweet dreams. You know, like Red Riding Hood’s wolf and Hansel and Gretel’s witch.”

“Fair point.” Tommy had a nice laugh, unaffected and infectious. Mitchell took a sip of his drink and peered quizzically across the table.

“You bought me red wine,” said Mitchell. “I asked for ginger ale.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted something stronger? We can switch, if you want.”

“No. This is a good call. Only the one, though.”

Such was his limit. Time had taught him that any more than two alcoholic drinks and his usual tightly belted self-control might come undone a notch or two.

“Bad day?”

Mitchell let out a sigh. “The worst. And thank you. For the drink and the company.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“I wish I could,” said Mitchell. “But it’s all highly confidential. Tell me about your day.”

“Usual Monday chaos. At lunchtime our head teacher called me in for a chat and mentioned that she'd overheard other teachers commenting that when I start projects, I get easily distracted. One of them suggested ADHD and another said I might be somewhere on the spectrum.”

Mitchell groaned. “Everyone’s a professional psychiatrist these days.”

“I told her not to worry, that I’m not on the spectrum, not even close. Tommy Chow is over the fucking rainbow.”

Mitchell laughed aloud for the first time that day, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from him.

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