Hot or Cold, Red or White, Hell is Hell

Rinaldo had gone, in the Valentine’s Day. I was shocked. He texted me that his stomach hurt and felt depressed via Skype on Thursday afternoon. On Saturday we were informed that he passed away on Friday morning. There are too many that I’d like to know. However it is impossible to find the answers. What I can do now are to help his family close the loose ends here and think of those moments we share.

The so-called coffee shop between two banks outside the south gate was the first place he had dinner in this country.  Later it became the place where both of us have our late dinner. Its food sucks. We went there because it was the only restaurant open after 8:00 pm around old campus. I noticed he ate slowly and always skipped soup when having a fried rice combo. Most of the time, I had already had my dinner. I accompanied him because I understood how difficult was for a foreigner to live here. It might make him more comfortable for being together with another one like him.

I never thought I could go to a KTV for the first time in my life because of him. He himself wanted to see how the KTV looked like in this country, but he told Joyce that I wanted to see it. So she found one and I could not refuse the invitation.  Actually I was a little angry at him. To revenge, I called American students out for dinner in his name later. That night, together with Rhi and Emily, we had a wonderful moment. He sang very well; and I was like a dumb. That was really a joyful night.

His office was empty. Maybe it was because he was always absent and had not decorated it with small appliances and books. When he was present, he stayed long in it for a day. At night, his office was quite faint. There was only a desk light turning on. The heartbreaking letter I received said he was covered by loneliness and the fear a couple of days before he was taken. I can imagine his mental condition fell into a dark and void space that his office was not comparable.

The very last moment we shared is in the tailor’s shop. He had been looking for a tailor for a custom-made suit. Since a student found a tailor’s shop for him, we had visited it several times. I was the translator who interpreted his tons of requests to the tailor. He was very demanding. He bought a few yards of fair fabric from Kyrgyzstan, but wanted it to become a designer suit by less than $50 dollars of labor cost. He checked each detail to make sure it was as close as the one in the referenced photo. Until the last time I saw him, the suit had not been completed.

I reminded him don’t forget to claim his suit the night prior to my short trip to Hangzhou. By the West Lake, I wished him had a nice winter vacation and Christmas in his home country on the phone. This was the last time we talked.

I was envious that he was always popular with girls because of his handsome face and gentlemanly behavior. How could I foresee he pass away in front of his girlfriend on Feb 14^th? Now I have one more reason to dislike the Valentine’s Day.