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SUMMARY: Continuation of story from Radthorne's art.

Huilang delayed the conversation by deciding the investigation would be better conducted over tea, a notion with which I could find no fault. We went to the kitchen where she filled a pot with water and hung it in the hearth. We returned to the garden walking to the first view point, a bench facing the largest pond, the base pond, our corner decorated with an almost red fairy moss, a group of koi darting between its openings as if playing hide and seek with the world outside the pond. The pressure of anticipation did not hurry the conversation; it sat patiently in the background allowing us to enjoy the pond, the moss, the koi, the water.
When conversation did arrive, Huilang initiated. She stared at the koi as she made her question, a courtesy to permit me to compose myself before attempting to answer. "What is it you miss most about Marissa?" she asked.
So, that was it, I thought, this whole thing was somehow about my missing Marissa. That made no sense to me but I did not take the time to pursue the matter. Huilang's words did not permit that diversion. Her words stung my soul, no more easily ignored than a bee sting might be.
I thought about the answer, turned it over and over in memory, in mind, trying to put words together that could do justice to the thought. "How she tolerated all my foolishness,'" I finally offered.
When Huilang did not comment, I took the opportunity to expand the thought. "You know how sometimes you think you are the most foolish – no, the dumbest - person alive? My sense of humor created such situations on a daily basis. I made inane comments at inane moments in a persistent attempt to make her laugh. She'd listen and listen and listen, never demanding I stop such idiocy. She'd just listen and then give me that look that said ‘that was about dumbest thing I've ever heard' but she'd only smile and we'd go on to the next one. Maybe I was doing it to produce the look but I don't think so. I loved to see her laugh; I spent all my effort helping her to find things to laugh at...even me. especially me.
"Anyway, that's what I miss most: that look."
"What do you suppose she would have missed most about you?" Huilang asked but, at that moment, the pot began to whistle. She gestured that I stay seated while she went for the tea.
What would Marissa miss most about me? I'd never asked her. We'd asked each other a million times why we loved each other but the question never got framed in terms of one or the other's absence. When the absence came so suddenly, there was no time to ask such questions, no time at all.
Thinking about it now, it dawned on me that I didn't know. In my mind there was no doubt that she had loved me. Yet, the basis of that love eluded me. I didn't understand it when we were together and I still did not understand it now that we were parted. But, I always knew that she did.
What would Marissa miss about me?
Huilang's voice broke my reverie. I turned to watch her approach from the kitchen carrying a tray with all the requirements for tea: the pot, the cups, the brush, the ladle, the tea.