Chapter Forty-Seven - Evangeline
Mei Ling Chao is standing in my living room.
I am due to leave for my first performance since I was a teenager in twenty minutes, but I don’t care if I’m late. Mei Ling Chao is standing in my living room.
“Can I get you some tea?” I ask. She looks ill. I know she has cancer, so that’s probably most of it. But she looks nervous too. “And please,” I say, motioning to the nearest chair. “Sit.”
She has a large package with her, which she holds onto tightly. Almost lovingly. But she lowers herself into the chair and smiles at me, keeping the package in her lap. “Yes, I’d love some tea. Thank you.”
“One sec, OK?” I say. I’m reluctant to leave her. Like… if I take my eyes off her she might wither away to nothing.
“I’m fine, dear,” she says in her old, grandmotherly voice. “Go. Make the tea. I’ll still be here.”
“OK,” I say, wiping my sweaty hands on my dress, then immediately regretting that decision, since this is what I’m wearing on stage in less than an hour. “I’ll be right back.”
My whole body hums like it’s been charged with electricity as I make my way into the kitchen. My heart is racing and I feel a little out of breath. A little bit like the old days when I’d start to get a panic attack, but that’s not what this is. I’m not panicking. I’m nervous for the performance and excited too, because ever since that night I played for Ixion, the music has returned. It came home to me that night and filled me up, and changed my life. Again.
My hands shake as I make tea, wondering what this new feeling really is.
Then I realize… it’s awe.
Mei Ling Chao is in my home.
When I’ve got the tea pot and cups on a serving tray, I take them back out to the living room and set it down on the coffee table. I smile at her as I pour her cup, and she helps herself to honey and milk as I pour one for myself too.
When was the last time I had a guest in my house?
God, I don’t even remember. Maybe never. And Lucinda pounding on my door demanding entry doesn’t count.
“You’re my first guest ever,” I tell her as I take my seat on the couch
“Am I?” She laughs. “Well, it’s an honor, my dear.”
I don’t know why I feel like crying, but I’m very close to tears. “No,” I say. “I’m the one who’s honored. Truly. This is the best moment of my life. Just seeing you. And right before I take this huge leap back into the life I thought was over… It’s…” I shake my head and can’t continue.
“You’re going to be spectacular tonight,” she whispers.
I nod and then the tears are there. Welling up in my eyes and threatening to break through.
“I have a seat right up front.”
“You do?” I ask. Mei Ling, practically on her death bed, has travelled a thousand miles to see me play. Something she can do just as well as I can, and she came anyway. She’s here for me.
“I bought my ticket the moment they went on sale,” she says. “I had my nephew on the internet, ready to purchase at midnight.” Tears are welling up in her eyes now too. “I always knew you’d be back, Evangeline. And that’s why I’ve been keeping this for you.”
She holds up the package in her arms and presents it to me.
I take it out of instinct. Pulling it into my lap and just… staring at her. Unable to understand what’s happening.
“It’s missed you,” she says.
And that’s when I realize what this is. What I’m holding. Before I even rip the paper off, before I open the case and see my most prized possession for the first time since I sold it all those years ago. The one thing that saved me when I was living through my darkest moment, desperate for money, and freedom.
My Stradivarius.
I shake my head, tears flowing freely down my cheeks now.
“I spent almost all my money on it. But it was worth it. I knew you’d be back.”
I take the violin out. Carefully. So very, very carefully. And then I realize what she just said. “I can’t possibly take this,” I say. “I can’t pay you for it. I’m broke too. You should sell it,” I say. “It’s worth… it’s… it’s priceless, Mei Ling.”
She laughs. It’s a sweet laugh. One I wish I had heard more. “It’s already been paid for,” she says.
“What?” I whisper. “Who? Who bought it?”
“It was bought for you, dear. It was an anonymous sale. I don’t know who actually paid for it. And I wouldn’t have sold it to anyone if they hadn’t mentioned it was a gift and I could present it to you myself. But it’s been paid for, so don’t you worry about me. I’ve already set up trusts for my sisters and their families with the money. They will all be taken care of after I’m gone thanks to your secret benefactor.”
I don’t know what to say. I just sit in my living room, with a living legend I have admired and emulated my entire life, and weep.
She gets up, hard as it is with her health and age, and walks over to the couch to sit down next to me. She holds me as I cry. Strokes my hand, pets my hair, assures me everything is gonna turn out just fine.
Mothers me.
And I cry harder.