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BooksChangeLivesCopyright?2021,2022byLilyChu
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisonfilewiththepublisher.Contents
FrontCover
TitlePage
Copyright
One
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Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
ReadingGroupGuide
AConversationwiththeAuthor
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
BackCoverForAuntieBernieOne
MydayistidilylaidoutonmynewLifePlanXapp.It’saworkofart,tobehonest.Here,theLifeofGracieReedisbeautifullyorganizedandcolor-codedinneatlittlerows,aguaranteeagainstindecisionandinaction.
ThisGraciehasittogether.ThisGracieisaboss.Totallyunlikethereal,patheticGraciewhojuststeppedoutofthelawyer’sofficeandpromptlystartedblubberinglikeaspinelesswuss.Youwaiteduntilyouwereoutside,Icongratulatemyself.Youdidn’tcryinfrontofhim.Smallwinsarestillwins
Itapmyphonescreensothatmeetwithlawyerisemphaticallycrossedout,whichmakesmefeelateenybitbettereventhoughnothing’sactuallychanged.Butaccordingtomylatestself-helpread,justsayingtheworddoneissupposedtodeliverashotofthatsweetdrugdopamine,andI’lltakeallthesatisfactionIcanget.
It’snotyetnoonsoIdecidetosneakinacoffeebreak,whichisnotonmyscheduleandisthereforeverbotenbytheLifePlanXapppeople.Theirwholepremiseisthateachminuteofyourdayshouldbeallocatedtopredeterminedtaskswithoutanywaveringoradd-ons.Youonlydowhatyoulogadmonishesthetagline.Inanefforttokeepmeonmypathtosuccess,theappsendsmechipperremindersofwhereIshouldbeatparticularpointsoftheday—andusuallyamnot.
Screwit.Ideservesugarandcaffeine.Itossthephoneintomybag,jamabaseballcaponmyhead,andheadovertomyfavoritecafé.
“Lookingglum,friend.”CherilooksupwhenIentertothediscordantaccompanimentofbells.“Wantyourusual?”
Icouldactuallygoforsomethingspecialasapick-me-up—maybeoneofthosebougiefrappeswithfancyflavorslikesaltedhoneyorsagecaramel—butsinceshe’salreadystartedmakingthelatte,Inodbeforeleaningovertoinspecttheshelfofmuffins.“Ineedchocolate,too.”
“Oh,we’reatchocolatelevelsofglumness.”Shewrinkleshernose.“Sorry,babe.Lonitookthelastoneforherkid.”
WhenLoniseesmelookover,shegivesafriendlywave,soIhastilyattempttomorphmyinvoluntarydeathstareintoamatchingreciprocalsmile.Idon’tsucceedintime.Hereyeswidenandsheunconsciouslyleansagainstherwifeasifseekingprotectionagainstmydisproportionatemuffinwrath.HerwifewrapsalovingarmaroundLoni’sshoulders,andIsuddenlyfeelstupidforthinkingthatbakedgoodswouldmakemefeelbetter.
“Can’tbethatbad,”saysCheri,cleaningtheespressomachinewithacloth.Thenshefrowns.“Ihavetostopsayingthat,”shescoldsherself.“Itcantotallybethatbad.Youmighthaveabrokenheart.Youmighthavereceivedaterriblediagnosis.Youmighthavebeencatfishedorlostyourtrueloveorwitnessedanaccident.”Shepausesasifconsideringthevastopportunitiesforsadnesstheworldhastooffer,thenshakesherhead.
It’snoneofthosethings,butit’sstillprettyawful.Thirty-eightminutesago,ItookmycourageinhandandgaveFredtheEmploymentLawyerseveralhundreddollarstotellmeexactlywhatIsuspected:Ididn’thaveanyproofmyboss,Todd,wasafuckingsexualpredator,andwithoutproof,Ihadnocase.
“HaveyougonetoyourHRdepartment?”heaskedafterI’doutlinedthesituation.
“No.”WhywouldIhavebotheredwhenIalreadyknewtheywouldn’tbelieveme?
Fredlookedatmeoverhisbifocals.“That’susuallythefirststepunlessyoufearretaliation.”
“Idid.Ido.”Toddismalicious,andIdon’twanttotaketheriskofhavingmoreofhisnastinessandspitefocusedonme.
“Didyoutellanyoneatall?”
“No.”
Henodded.“Thenweneedproof.Emails.Voicerecordings.Witnesses.”
“He’ssmartaboutit.”Isatstifflyinthechair,humiliatedathavingtotellanotherhumanbeingabouthowI’dletthislevelofharassmenthappentome.I’dhadsomuchonmyplatethatatfirstitwaseasiertosimplyignoreTodd’sbehaviorandtellmyselfitwasn’tthatbigofadeal.
“Thenyouneedtobesmarter.”
“That’snotfair.”
“No,”heagreed.“It’showthelawworks.Onceyougetmethatproof,wecannailhissorryasstothewall.Canyouquit?”
Notanoption,notrightnow.Ican’tjeopardizemyemployment,andsofarIhaven’tbeenabletofindanewjob.Iletoutalongsigh.Definitelynotproblemsthatcanbesolvedbyachocolatemuffin.
“I’lltaketheBluebellBlueberryBomberama,”ItellCheri,directingmyattentiontoadecisionIcancontrol.It’sveganandbran,moreofarefuelingpuckthansweettreat,butthankstoLoni’sselfishtoddler,it’stheonlymuffinleftexceptforcardamomsquash.Whichisalsobran.
AsImentallyresignmyselftoahealthydoseofinsolublefiber,ablindingflashoflightexplodestomyleft.StarsdanceinmyeyesforseveralsecondsandthenslowlyfadeawaytorevealasmallmanwearingaPinkPanther-esquetrenchcoatandtrilbyhat.“Smile,beautiful.”
Iautomaticallyobeywithareflexivegrinthatfallsoffrightaway,becausewhatthefuck?Hetakesanotherpicture,thenatsunamiofclickswashovermeashiscamerasnapsandtheflashpingsinrapidsuccession.Isqueezemyeyesshutandthrowupmyarms,holdingthemuffininfrontofmyfaceasprotection.
Cherichucksherdirtydishclothatthephotographer,whoyelpsindignantlywhenitlandssmackonhischest,coveringhisraincoatwithcoffeegrounds.
“Yo,AnselAdams.Getthehelloutofmystoreandstophoundingmycustomers.You’retrespassing.”
Heopenshismouthtoargue,butshethreateninglygrabsapotoffreshlybrewedcoffeeandleansoverthecounterasifdaringhimtomouthoff.Withanangryshrug,heblowsmeakissandsauntersout.
IturntoCheri.“AnselAdams?”
Sheputsdownthepotandhandsovermylattewithahalf-turnedsmile.“Couldn’tthinkofanotherphotographer.”
“AnselAdamsdidlandscapes,didn’the?Notpeople?”
“LikeIsaid.Couldn’tthinkofanotherone.Also,that’sveryjudgmentaltalkcomingfromawomanwhousedamuffinasashield.”
Ibristle.“Hesurprisedme.”
“Right.”Safeinhervictory,Chericomplacentlypatshermagentacurls.“Whatwasthatevenabout?Youcaughtupinsomenaughtyscandal?”
Deeplyskeptical,Icheckmyphone.TheonlyalertisanotificationfromLifePlanXaboutthesecondloadoflaundryIshouldbedoing.“Nope.”
“Huh.Musthavemistakenyouforsomeoneelse.Makessense—there’salwaysalotoffilminggoingoninToronto.Oh,speakingof,didItellyouIsawKeanuReeveslastweek?”Shewipesthecounterwithpassionatestrokes.“Whatagod.There’snooneelseasgorgeousashimaroundhere.”
“Uh,Cheri?”It’sLoni,whoispackingLittleLonietteintoherstrollerasherwifetidiesthetable.“Outside.”Shepoints.
Welookoutthefrontwindow.“Shit,”Isay.“Therearetwoofthem.”Inspector-turned-paparazzoClouseaunowhasabuddystandingwithhimoutsidethecafé.They’rebothsportingseriouslyintensecamerasaroundtheirnecksandgesturingwildly.
“Quick.Gooutthebackway,”Cheriadvisesinahiss.
Thisisbizarreandnotonmyto-dolist.Ihesitate,wonderingwhoonearththeythinkIam,beforeIduckintothehallandsneakout,feelingpleasantlyimportant.ThebuzzofactinglikeacelebritylastsuntilIsteprightintoanoil-slickedpuddlethatsmellslikeraccoonpee.Damnit.There’sapatchofgrassattheendofthealley,soIwalkoverandwipemyshoe.Oncereasonablyclean,IsipmylatteasIdecidewhattodo.IfakedbeingsicktogetoutofworksoIcouldmeetthelawyer,whichmeansthere’snoneedtogototheoffice.ThatI’mTodd-freetherestofthedaylightensmymood.
ItapthroughmyphonetotheLifePlanXapp.Accordingtomyschedule,I’mduetogohomeandspendsometimedoingchores.Plantheworkandworktheplan,that’sthesaying.Iwishitwerealwaysthateasy,though.
IthinkI’vetriedeverysystemavailabletohumanitythat’ssupposedtogetyourlifeundercontrol,butnoneofthemhavehelped.Mybulletjournalbitthedustlastwinter,whenIfinallyacceptedMom’sdementiawastoobadforhertolivealone.Itwasabeautifulnotebookfullofcarefullyhand-drawncalendarsandlists,whichslowlydevolvedintoroughlyscribbledpagesofnamesandphonenumbersindifferentcolorinks,awrittenmicrocosmofmyresentfuljourneythroughthehealthcaresystem
OnceMomhadbeenmovedtoGlenLake,Iputthatnotebookasideandturnedtoanaward-winning,minimalistonlinetasker.Thatwasabandonedfivemonthsago,whencheckingthroughthepreviousweeks,Ifinallyrealizedthatmyto-dolistsconfirmedwhatIhadonlydimlysuspectedupuntilthen—thatIwasgettingassignedmyownprojectslessandlessinfavoroftakingontasksforothers…orforoneotherpersoninparticular.Todd,mymarketingdepartmentmanager,wasblockingmyadvancementbygivingmyprojectstohisslimyprotégé,Brent.
Iturnedtojournalingasarelease,diligentlyrecordingmyfeelingseverydayuntilToddgrabbedmyarmduringacompanyeventandheldonalittletoolong,whilehisotherhandgrazedmyhip.Nobigdeal,right?Itwasacrowdedroom.Justamistake,noneedtomakeafuss,soItriedtolaughitoff.IdidthesamethingthenextweekwhenhebackedmeintoatableafterIgavehimtheprojectionsI’dprintedout,jokingthathisbadeyesightmeanthehadtoleaninclose.Isaidnothingwhenhespentanentiremeetingstaringatmebeforesayinghelikedexotic-lookinggirls.That’swhenIputthejournalaway.Ihadnodesiretorelivemydayswithawrittenrecord.
“Stopit,”Isaysoftlytomyphone.“Stop.”
IneversaythosewordstoTodd.Whenitfirststartedhappening,Iconvincedmyselfthiswasmyissue,nothis—Iwasoverreactingorbeingtoosensitive.I’dbeentooself-conscioustodoanythingbutlaugh,notwantingtocauseafussandembarrasshimorneedlesslyputmyjobatrisk.
ThedecisiontoseeFredtheLawyercametomeasIcurledupinbedonemorningfightingnauseabecauseofanotherjobrejection.Itwasn’tnormaltocrymyselftosleepeverynight.Somethinghadtogive.
MyphonedingswithyetanotherLifePlanXnotification,triggeringaPavlovianinstincttoaccomplishsomething,anything.Themessageflashesonmyscreen.Notontrack?Sitwiththat,saidthecoyotetothebear.
Whatthehelldoesthatevenmean?
IdecideIdon’tneedtheadditionalpressureofaphonethatconstantlyremindsmeofmyfailures.“Coyotethis,”IwhisperasIpressthelittleshakyXintheapp’scorner.
Yetthemomentitdisappearsfromthescreen,Ifeellost.I’mnotproudofmydependenceonthesekindsofthingstomaintainfocus(“It’slikeyouneedacorsetforyourbrain,”myüber-organizedfriendAnjalisaid),butIdo.Iadmitit.Ilovelists.Icravethem.IdrawvisceralpleasurefromanythingIcanputalinethrough,acheckbeside,ordeleteasadeclarationthatIhaveCompletedaTaskandamthereforeaworthy,functioninghuman.
ButuntilIdownloadanew,shinierlistmaker,itlookslikeI’monmyown.
Iwalktothenearestsubwaystopandbrieflyhesitateontheplatform.Withouttherestrictionsofmyapp-plannedday,Icaneithergohomeandwallowinself-pityorvisitmymom.Actually,goinghomeisn’tevenarealoption,becauseMomtakespriorityoverprettymucheverything.
Thirtyminuteslater,I’vereachedmystopandamwalkingthethreeblockstoGlenLake.It’samuggyJuneafternoonandlayersofnasty,sweatystickinessformonmyskin,perfectlymirroringmyinternalstate(level:trashgoblin).Itakeamomenttobreatheindeeplyandforcethenegativeenergyaway.SeeingMomishardenoughwithoutgoingin
“Youcandothis.”Igivemyselfaminipeptalkbeforepressingtheintercombuttonatthemainentrance.Afterall,it’snotlikeI’mtheonewhohastolivehere.Ionlyhavetwojobs:topayforAgathaWuReed’ssingleroomandtolookcheerfulwhenIvisit.
Thedooropens,butIlingeratthethresholdlikeavampirewaitingforaninvitation.AnolderwomanwalksoutandIstepoutofherwaywithaquickapology,immediatelyregrettingitbecauseIdidnothingtobesorryfor.It’sabadhabitthathasbecomeanautomaticreflex.She’sfollowedbyanelderlygentlemanwhoreachesforherhandandlovinglytucksitupagainsthischest.ItrytosuppressthehungrylookIknowcomesintomyeyesasIstareattheirintertwinedfingers,becausenoonewantstobroadcasttheirlonelinesstoothers.
It’snotlikeI’mlonesomeallthetimeorpiningforaPrinceCharming,butsometimesthere’sapartofme—maybetwentypercent—thatwantsthatkindofconnectionsobadlyithurts.Theothereightypercentismoresensible.Ihavetoomuchonmyplatetobethinkingaboutrelationshipsrightnow,andit’smucheasiertoonlyhavemymomtocareabout.Puttinganotherperson’sconcernsandneedsintothemixwouldonlymakethingsharder.
Coveringmysigh,Icatchtheedgeofthedoorbeforeitclosesandstepinside.
Thewomanatthenurses’stationlooksupasIapproach.We’rebothfamiliarwitheachotheratthispoint.
“Howisshe?”Iask.
“Eatingwell,”sheanswersinabrisktone.
Iwait,butthat’salltheinformationthatseemstobeforthcoming.“Howabouthermentalstate?”Inudgepolitely,notwantingtonagorasktoomanyquestions.
“Anywordonthenewhome?”Thenurse’sneatsidestepisanswerenough.TheentirefloorknowsI’mtryingtogetMomintotheXinGuangprivatecarehomeontheothersideoftown.
Ishakemyhead.“Nothingopenyet.”Itcouldtakeanotheryearforaroomtoopen,whichwouldatleastgivememoretimetosave.Privatecareisexpensive.
Thenursenodswithpracticedsympathy,agestureI’vebecomeintimatelyfamiliarwithsinceMomenteredGlenLake.“Somethingwillcomeup,”sheassuresme.“Italwaysdoes.”
ThatsomethingwillcomeupIhavenodoubt,butitmeansIneedtohavethemoneytopayforit,whichmeansIneedmyjob,whichmeansputtingupwithToddandthehellhe’smakingofmylife.Ifinishsigninginandheaddownthehall.
GlenLakeisclean,reputable,closetomyapartment,andthestaffarekind.Logically,IknowI’mluckytohavefoundMomaroomhere.Idon’tfeellucky.AllIfeelishate.Ihatetheomnipresentsicklysmellofbleachandsoupthatpermeatestherooms,nomatterwhat’sservedforlunch.Ihatethecolors—afadedmixofsalmonandseafoamI’msuresomeonethoughtwasasoothingcombinationbutinsteadgivestheimpressionofa1970sbathroomindesperateneedofrenovation.WhileI’mhoveringabovemypitofhostility,letmealsodropinthebland,silver-framedartprintsonthewalls.They’reallstill-lifesofsnapdragonsandlandscapesorcutesyanimalposters.Infact,there’sonebymymother’sroomofanadorablelittlewhitekittensittingnexttoapinkcarnationthatIseeeachtimebeforeIgoin,andyouknowwhat?Ihatethat,too.
Mostofall,IhatethelostexpressionIseeonMom’sfacewheneverIopenherdoor.
Ipauseandputallofit—work,Todd,money,thelawyer—outofmymindandarrangeapleasantsmilebeforeIpushopenthedoorandseeMomsittingonabeigevinylchairnearthewindow,staringatnothingassoftclassicalmusicplaysfromthetelevision.Iwatchherforamoment,myjawclenchingsohardmyteethstarttoache.Sheusedtobea
Sheturnstome,thelightfromthewindowhidingherexpression.“Nihao?”
ThatMandaringreetingmeansshe’snotwithmeinthepresentbutbackinthepastwhereIcan’tfollowher.Idomybesttokeepbright.Ionlyknowafewwordsbutthey’reenoughtoanswerher.“Henhao,nine?”
MymomhasbeeninCanadaforoverthirtyyearsbutstillspeaksEnglishwithanaccent.WhenIwasyounger,Ididn’tnotice—itwasMom’svoice,nomoreandnoless—buthowshespeaks,theupanddownofhertones,hasbecomemorepronouncedoverthelastyear.Thedoctorsaysit’smyimagination,butIthinkit’sbecauseshe’sbackinChinasoofteninherthoughts.Herearlierlifethereisamysterytome.Sherarelyspokeofit,wantingalwaystolooktothenowandthefuture.SheevenrefusedtospeakMandarintomeathome,insistingitwasbettertofitinandacceptwhereweareratherthanwherewe’dbeen.
“Thepastisdead,”shewouldtellmewhenIasked.“Itcan’tbechanged.Leaveitinmemory.”
I’mpreparedforanotherfrustratingvisitwhereIdomybesttopretendIunderstandwhatshe’ssaying,butthenMomswitchestoEnglish.I’mwrong.She’shavingagoodday.
“Youchangedyourhair,”shesays.
I’vehadthesameshorthairforyearsbutItouchmyheadlikeit’sanewstyleI’munsureabout.“Doyoulikeit?”
Momreachesoutagnarledhandandgesturesformetocomecloser.WhenIdo,sherunsherpalmovermyheadwithadisapprovingsnort.“Youlooklikeaboy.Whystandoutlikethis?”
StandingoutisoneofMom’sbugbears,probablyfromwhenshefirstcametoCanadaandhadtoassimilate.Hermodusoperandiwasalwaystochoosethemiddleway.Beingtoodifferentandnotblendinginwiththecrowdmakesyouanoutsider,whichdrawsnegativeattentionanditsclosecompanion,criticism.Shehammeredthisintomeallmylife.IwasasolidB-plusstudentallthroughschool.
“IalwayshadlonghairwhenIwasyounger,”shesays.“Everyonedidanditwasalsothestyleyourfatherlikedbest.”
Eventhoughhe’sbeendeadforadecade,hearingaboutDadstillbringstearstomyeyes.“That’showyoumet.”Apparentlythereweresofewwomenwithblackhairlongenoughtostreamoutinabannerthatitstoppedmydaddeadinhistracks.“Thenshesmiledatme,”he’dsay,tellingthestory.“That’sallittook.Iwasagoner.”
“Askedmeforadate,rightthereonBloorStreet,”Momcontinues.
WhenIwasyounger,atthispointinthestory,Dadwouldinterrupt,faux-aggrieved,topointoutthatMomhadn’ttoldhimshelivedanhouroutsidethecity.“IneverwouldhaveofferedtodriveherhomehadIknown,”he’dsayjokingly,scoopingherupinabearhugthatmadehersquealandlaugheverytime.Ihaven’theardherlaughlikethatsincehisdeath.
I’mfeelingfragileanddecidethatself-caremeansnothavingtohearaboutmyparents’perfect,fairy-talelove.Itreasurethestory,Ido,butrightnow,Ican’t.
Instead,Iturntheconversationtowhatshehadforlunch(hamsandwiches)andhowshe’ssleeping(betternowthatshehasthatlavendersachetIbroughtlasttime).
EventuallyshestartslookingoutthewindowandIcantellfromherfaceshe’sdriftingfromme,soIpickuptheAsiancelebritymagazineonhercoffeetable.It’ssomethingIbroughtheracoupleweeksago,withoneofChina’stopaction-moviestars,SamYao,inatuxedoonthecover,flauntinghisadmirablebonestructureandperfectlytousledblackhair.Hissmolderingeyestauntmewithpromisesofpassionandadventurethatwillnevercometrueforsomeoneasordinaryasme.
Agluttonforpunishment,Ifliptothefeaturestory,afluffpieceabouthowheenjoys,ohmygosh,stopthepresses,travelandhiswork.Iscanthearticle,eachmentionofunimaginableluxuryandpublicadorationprickinglikeathorn,thentossthemagazineaway,sittinginsilencewithMomuntilit’stimeformetogo.Two
Thenextdayisterrible.Nope.Harrowing,hideous,horrid,andhateful.
My,therearealotofnegativeHwords.Iwonderwhythatis?It’sheinouslyhorrendous.
Here’sanother:Youbetterholdittogetherandhandleyourshitbecauseyouneedthemoney.Atwoforone.
Toddpunishesmeforcallinginsickyesterdaybyrippingmyproposaltoshredsinfrontoftherestoftheteam,thentellsBrenttotakeitoveranddoitright.Theothermendon’tseemtonoticebutKathy,theadminassistant,givesmeapityingpout.
Iignoreherlook,putonaneutralface,andpretenditdoesn’tbotherme.It’sbettertokeepmyheaddownthantoprotest;experiencehastaughtmetheonlyconsequenceofremindingToddhesignedoffonthatproposaltwodaysagowillbenegative.Forme.
ThedaydragsandIfinallyleaveatsevenaftertheofficeempties.Accordingtomynewtasklist—I’vegonebacktobasicswithapenandpaper—IshouldgotothegymanddothelaundryIdidn’tdoyesterday.InsteadIdropoffmybag,pulloutmysneakers,andstartanaimlesswalkaroundtheneighborhood.Thesummersunhasn’tyetdroppedbehindthehorizon,soIdecideit’ssafeenoughtogoontherunningtrailbuiltalongthetraintracksnearmyplace.It’sbusyandIwindaroundakidlearningtoinlineskateanddodgeagroupofSeriousCyclistDudesinbrightjerseysandblackshorts.ApparentlytheTourdeFrancehasmadeadetourthroughToronto—hownice.
ItrytorelaxbutthetoxicmessinmybraininfiltratesmybodyandIstarehardatamanstrollingbywithgiganticsilverearphones.Hisfaceissopunchablethatmyhandcurlsintoafist.
ThelawyertoldmeIneedtogetproofaboutTodd’sbehavior,buthow?EvenifIcouldoutwithim,notonlyisheavicepresident,buthisdadisgolfbuddieswiththeCEO.AndGarnetBrothersInvestmentsisn’tthemostfeministorganizationoutthere.Ibetevenadickpicwouldonlygeta“Boyswillbeboys,”andTodd’ssmartenoughtonotsayordoanythingthatIcancalloutspecifically.Standingtooclose?Feelinguncomfortable?Iwasreadingintothesituation,endofstory.ThepayisalsobetterthananywhereelseI’velookedsoI’mstuck.BetweenMom’sprivateroomandsavingforthenewhome,I’veburnedthroughallthecashI’dmanagedtoputaway.
Istopabruptly,causingarunnertoshout“Hey”andshootmeadirtylookastheyswervetomissme.Thewalkshouldhavecalmedme—nature,outside,exercise,allthat—butIwanttoscream.I’llgotobed.Asolidnight’ssleepwillgetridofthisitchinessinsidemyskin.
BythetimeIreachmystreet,I’malmostinadazeasworrycirculatesthroughmybrain.Mom.Work.Mom.Money.Work.Todd.
AsIwonderwhatitwouldbeliketowalkandwalkandkeepwalkingforever,aglossyblackSUVpullsupcloseenoughtomakemejumptotheside.Thisisnotthekindofcarthatusuallycomesbymystreet,whichtopsoutataLexusownedbythedentistfivedoorsdown.Iautomaticallytakethreesafestepsbacktoputmeoutofsnatchingrangeandamoffthesidewalkandonthegrassstaringwarilywhenthecardooropens.
“GraceReed?”AveryfamiliarfacepeersoutandIgawk.
It’sfamiliarbecause,exceptforherlong,lustroustresses—likeashampooadorAgathaWustrollingdownBloorStreetonherwaytomeetherromanticdestiny—thiswomanismydoppelg?nger.Wehavethesamefaceshapewithapointychinandsimilarroundeddarkeyes,exceptIknowmineareshadowedwithfatigueandhersaresimplyelegantlyshadowed.Herskinisdewyandfresh.Imaylookdewy,butIcertainlydonotlookfresh.
“Wow,”Isay,peeringather.“Ihavetoknow,areyouabartenderontheDanforth?PeoplearealwaystellingmemydoubleworksinsomebarintheEastEnd.”
Thewomangazesatmewithutterastonishment.
Italkonbecausemymouthwon’tstop.“Duh,ofcourseyou’renot.Otherwiseyouwouldn’tbedrivingaroundinthatfancycar.Holdon.HowdoyouknowwhoIam?”Thesurpriseofseeingsomeonewhosoresemblesmeknockedthatfirstandverypertinentquestionclearoutofmyhead.Itakeanotherstepback
“YouareGraceReed?”saysthewomanagain.
“Gracie,”Icorrectbeforemyvoicetrailsoff.Iknowthatfacebecause—itsuddenlyclicks—thisisWeiFangli.
WeiFangli,ChineseA-listmoviestar,isinmyneighborhood.Ishouldhaverecognizedherexceptit’ssoshockingshewouldbehere,talkingtomeonmystreet,thatIdidn’tconnectthiswomanwiththecelebrityatall.
Wait,WeiFangliishereandknowsmyname?
Sheglancesupanddownthestreet.“Willyougetinthecar?”sheasks.“Iwanttospeakwithyou.”
“No,Idon’tthinkso.”Itakealaststepbackuntilthebranchesofapinetreebrushmyhead.WhywouldWeiFanglibeinaresidentialTorontoneighborhood?Ilookaroundandconfirmit’snotarealityshowandtherearenocamerasfilmingthisinteraction.
“Please.”
“Howaboutyoucomeouthere?”Acompromise,becauseI’malittlecurious.
She’sconsideringthiswhenahandshootsouttotouchherelbow.Thehandisattachedtoablack-blazeredarmconnectedtoamanleaningforward.
Eveninsunglasses,heissoincandescentlybeautifulthatheshortsoutmybrain.He’sAsian,withjet-blackhairfallingoverhisforehead,anarrownose,andajawlinewithananglesharpenoughtomeasurewithaprotractor.Althoughhe’ssitting,Icantellhe’sleanwithbroadshoulders.Hishandsomenessrendersmeliterallyunabletospeak,andIgetabitpanickedbeforeresentmentsetsin.Howdarehelooksogood?Someonethatattractiveshouldhavealittlehorntheytoottopreparenormalslikemefortheirarrival.Despitetheshades,he’salsounnervinglyfamiliar,butwherewouldIhavemetamanlikethis?Nowherebutdreams.
HeducksbackintothecarbeforeIcanplacehim,andthetwotalkinlowvoices.Fanglifinallystretchesonelegtotheground,footshodinadelicatehigh-heeledsandalthatmightsnapunderherweight.Thatshoeprobablycostamonthinrent.
HowcouldIeverthinkshewasmydoppelg?nger?WeiFangliisflawless.ShemoveslikeadancerandherpostureissoperfectIfeelmyownchinliftinresponseasItrytostraightenmyback.
“AsIsaid,Ihaveaproposalforyou,”shesays,hoveringinthecardoor.“I’dpreferprivacy.Pleasegetintothecar.Thiswillonlytakeafewminutes.”
WhydoIfollowherintothecar?DoIhaveadeathwish?Imight,butrightnowI’malsoverysickofbeingGracieReedanddoingnormal,safeGracieReedthings.Whateverhappensnowwillatleastbedifferent,andaftertoday,Iwantthatdesperately.
WhenIclimbin,thecar’sinteriorblowsmymind.Twosetsofpaleleatherseatsfaceeachother,separatedbyashelfwithbottlesofwaterandaminibar.AbreathofChanelNo.5lingersbutIcan’ttellifit’sfromFangliorthecaritself.Besidemeistheman,andafterIsitdown,Itakeagoodlookathisface,tryingtokeepmycomposureasIdo.Herecedesbackintotheshadowsofthecarasifremovinghimselffromtheconversation.
Like,thismanisunrealandhislipsare…wow.Despitetheimprobabilityofthisentiresituation,I’mlaser-focusedonthem.They’rethePlatonicidealoflipsandmatchthehighcheekbonesandjeteyebrowsthatformperfectstraightslashes.Thenhetakesoffthesunglasses.Darkeyestapertolinesatthecornersandthoselipsturndowninafrownasheglancesatme.There’safeelingakintothemomentwhentherollercoasterfinallydipsafterteeteringatthetopofthehillasItumblefromfamiliaritytorecognition.
SamYao,theSexiestManintheWorld(officially,asnamedbyCelebritymagazinelastyear),issittingdourlyintheseatnexttome.
I’minacarwithWeiFangliandSamYao.EvenIknow—throughMom’smagazinesbutwhatever—thatthisisChinesecinema’sgoldendyad.Andtheywantsomethingfromme.
“WhyamIhere?”Iask.Ishouldprobablybescaredatthispoint,butthere’ssomethingaboutsittinginaluxuriousSUVthattakesoffsomeoftheedge.IfI’dbeenstuffedintoawhitevanorsomething,I’dbewaymorestressed.
“Youknowwhoweare?”Fangliasks.
“Iknowwhoyoulooklike,”Isay.
“IreallyamWeiFangli.”ShehasanunexpectedNorthAmericanaccent.“Wouldyouliketomakesomemoney?”
Iscootbackagainstthecarseat.“Oh,wow.Right,thiswasnotwhatIexpected.I’mflatteredandIamverypro–sexworkbutthat’snotreallymybag.”
Samsnorts.“Youthinkwewanttohavesexwithyou?”
He’sclearlymockingme,buthearinghimsaythewordssexwithyouisenoughtosendmyimaginationintooverdrive.
“No?”WhenImanagetospeak,Idon’tevenknowtherightanswer.Myworkangsthasbeenreplacedbyanewandunusualtorment—beingstupidlytongue-tiedinthepresenceoffame.
WhydidFangliwantmetogetintothecar?
ThensheflashesmeaphotoonherphoneandIseethereason.“Thisisyou,”shesays.It’snotaquestion.
Thephonescreenshowsmeduckingbehindamuffin.“Possibly,”Isaycautiously.Idon’tknowwherethisisgoing.
“This,too.”
ThistimeI’mpeekingfromaroundthemuffinandunderthebrimofmyhatlikeI’mcheckingforghosts,andthere’snopointdenyingit.“Someguytookabunchofphotos.”
Shepointstothephotocredit.“Iknow.Theythoughtyouwereme,andsocialmediaisnowwonderingaboutmynewbrandiet.AtleastyourhairiscoveredbythehatsoIdon’thavetoworryaboutexplainingapixiecut.”
“I’msorry.”WhyamIapologizingformyownhair?“Imean,Iwasgettingcoffee.Ididn’ttellhimIwasyou.”Hopefullythisreassuresherthatitwasn’tmyintentiontoimpersonateher.
Fanglilaughs.“Ofcoursenot.HisnameisMikeyandhespecializesintryingtogetcandidbutembarrassingphotos.Theotherpaparazzidon’trespecthim,buthemakesalotofmoneydoingwhathedoesanditgotmethinking.”
Saminterrupts.“Thisisconfidentialandifyousellthistothemedia,youwillregretit.”
Istareathim,totallynonplussed.“Isthisanimprovscene?Areyouplayingtheover-the-topvillain?”
“Thinkofhowquicklywefoundyou.”
Hotornot,he’sbeingadickandIdon’tlikeit.Not-StarstruckGracieroarsbackandhipchecksNiceGracieoutoftheway.Iglareathimwiththepent-upangerIhaven’tbeenabletoreleaseallday.“Screwyou,buddy.I’mnottheoneaskingforfavorshere,incaseyouhaven’tnoticed.”
ThissparksaspiritedargumentbetweenFangliandSam.Idon’tspeakMandarinsothefightisindecipherabletome,andItakeamomenttogetmybearings.Iaminaluxuryvehiclewithtwoactors,oneofwhomlooksenoughlikemetobealittlefreaky.
HereIadmitmysecretshame.Youknowhowthere’salwaysacelebritythatyou’llblushinglydenyyoulooklike,butyousecretlythinkyoudolooklike,atleastafteracoupledrinkswhenyou’relookinginthebathroommirrorindimlightwithyourhairacertainway?
Onceinawhile,someonewhoknowsChinesecinemawillmentionthatIresembleWeiFangli,andonmysupergooddays,myspectaculardays,fromspecificangles,IthinkmaybeIdo.It’snicetogetsomeexternalvalidation.
FanglideliverswhatmustbeadevastatingverbalblowbecauseSamslamsbackintheseatandcrosseshisarmsasheverymelodramaticallygazesoutthewindow.Shestaresathimandthenturnstome.
“Samisprotective,”sheexplains.
Whatdoesthathavetodowithme?Suddenlysuspicious,Iexaminetheinteriorofthecar.Maybeit’snotarealityshowbutsomenewhumiliatinggameshowwherecelebritiespickputzesoffthestreetandofferthemahundredbuckstorunaroundnakedordrinkslime.
“Iwantyoutopretendtobemefortwomonths.”Shesmilesasifthisisanincrediblynormalthingtorequestofastranger.
“Mebeyou?Youwantmetoactinamovie?”Itrytokeepcool,rememberingtheexhilarationofinhabitingacharacterwhenIactedinschoolplays.Butit’sbeenalongtimeandIassumetherearesignificantdifferencesbetweenactinginacollegeversionofTheCrucibleandstarringinahigh-budgetfilm.
“No,no,”sheassuresme.“I’minatheaterproductionandmyteaminsistsIbeseenaroundthecity,butIwanttofocusonmywork.I’mtootiredtodotheadditionalpublicitysoIwantyoutobemydoubleforevents.”
WhenIlookatherclosely,Iseethepalenessofherskinisn’tonlymakeupasI’dassumed.Upclose,shelooksgaunt,almosthaunted.
“Idon’tthinkwelookenoughlikeeachotherforthat,”Isay.
Shewavesthephoneatme.“Ibegtodiffer,especiallywithmakeup.Icanreimburseyouwellforyourtime.”
“Howmuch?”I’mnotgoingtodoit,butIwanttoknow.Besideme,SammuttersunderhisbreathandItakeFangli’sleadandignorehim.
“Weknowyouhaveajob.Mostbutnotalltheeventsareatnightoronweekends.Ithinkahundredthousandisfair.”Hervoiceiscalm.
“Areyoushittingme?”
Samexhales.“Fanglineverswears.”
“I’mnotFangli.”
Fangli’slookstopshimbeforehecanretort,andhesettlesbackintotheseat.
Iturnbacktoher.“Howdoyouknowsomuchaboutmeanyway?”
“IhiredaprivatedetectiveafterIsawthephoto.”Shesaysitcasually,likehowelsewouldshedoit?
NowIlaughoutloud.Aprivatedetective.Thisistoomuch.
“Wethinkit’safairamountforthejob,”shesays.
AhundredthousanddollarsmeansIcansayyestoaroomatXinGuangifMomgetsin.ItmeansIdon’thavetoworryaboutMombeingputinasharedroomifIcan’tmeetthepaymentsatGlenLake.Tempting,buteventhoughI’msickofmycurrentlife,Idon’twanttobeplayedbyacoupleofrichmoviestarswholookatpeoplelikemeastoystobeused.Mom’svoicewhispersinmyhead.Don’tdoanythingtoocrazy.
“I’mnotsure.”It’salwayseasiertoavoidgivingadefiniteno.
“Please.”Herfacecreases.“Ahundredandfifty.”
Thatescalatedfast.“I’llthinkaboutit,”Iamend.Fangli’spleadingfaceandthatamountofmoneyarehardtoignore.
Shehandsmeacard.“Thankyou.”
Unabletothinkofapolitewaytorefuseit,Iacceptthecard.
“I’dliketohearfromyouwithintwodays,”Fangliadds.“It’svitalwestartrightaway.”
“Right.”That’sanambiguousenoughanswer.Idon’twanttodothis.DoI?No,ofcoursenot.Imighthavewishedforanescapeearlier,butnotlikethis.Iwantsustainablemoneymakingandareasonableexitstrategy.Somethingstableandsafe.Thisisanythingbut.
Samdoesn’tsayanythingasIleave.Three
WhenIwakeupthenextmorning,thefirstthingIdoischeckmytasklistforwork.IthasabouttwentymoreitemsthanIcanhopetoaccomplishandIputmyphonedown,discouragedevenbeforemyfeethittheground.IneedalistthatmotivatesmetodothingsinsteadofonethatmakesmefeelI’llnevercatchup.IslottheideainthementalfileI’vebeengatheringoverthelastcoupleofyears,mydreamlistfortheultimate,andelusive,organizer.
ThecardlyingbesidemyphonereadsWeiFangliinEnglishandChinesewithaphonenumberandnoemail.Iturnitoverinmyfingers,pressingthecornersintomyskin.Ahundredandfiftythousanddollars.There’snowayheroffercanbeontheup-and-up,becausewhointheirrightmindwouldtrytohireabodydouble,astranger,offthestreet?Outofcuriosity,Igoogle“WeiFanglinetworth.”
Well.Shecoulddefinitelyaffordit.
There’sapictureofFangliwiththestory,andItakemyphonetothemirrortoholditbesidemyface.Ourbonestructureiscloseenoughthatwecouldbesisters.Ilowerthephoneandcheckoneoftheopenbrowsersonmylaptopforthephotofromthecoffeeshop,whichIfoundlastnightaftercominghome.Withmyfacepartiallycoveredbymymuffinandhat,IcanseetheresemblancetoFangli.
I’mnotsayingthismeansI’mgorgeous.Theimage’scaptionreads:“WeiFangli’suniquefeatureshaveapowerbeyondtypicalbeauty,”whichiscourteousphrasingfor“She’ssortofstrange-lookingbutitworksforher.”
Ditto,exceptmyfaceneverseemstoworkformeunlessit’sasagatewayforpeopletostareandaskwhereI’mfrom.Or,mypersonalfavorite,whatIam.WheneverIwaswithDad,people’seyeswouldjumpfromhisfacetomineastheytriedtodeterminewheremyfeaturescamefrom,becausetheydefinitelyweren’tfromwesternEurope.Ididn’tlooklikethemandtheyknewit,buttheydidn’tlikenotknowingwhy.
It’sallmoot.Evenforthatmoney,there’snowayIcouldpulloffpretendingtobeamoviestarfortwomonths.Idon’tspeakMandarin,numberone,nordoIhavethe…confidence…WeiFanglihas.Fangliisusedtobeinginthepubliceye;she’shadyearsoftraining.Whenshewalksintheroom,shedoesn’ttriponarugandwonderwhattodowithherhands.There’sawholeserieson“DoingStairslikeWeiFangli”thatanalyzeshowshefloatsdownwithoutlookingwhereshe’sstepping—andwithanoccasionalscarftossforgoodmeasure.I’mnotclumsy,butI’mself-consciousenoughthatIwouldfreeze.Icouldn’tevenhandleasinglepaparazzotakingphotos.Whatwoulditbelikewithabankofthem?
Itossthephoneonmybedandgetreadyfortheday.There’saboxyblacksuitthat’smygo-to,andIpairitwithathickcamelturtleneckthatmakestheblazertightunderthearms.It’stoohotanoutfitforJune,buttheofficeisalwaysfreezing.IstoppedwearingmyusualredlipstickbutI’mexpectedtolookpolished,soIapplyanunflatteringneutralbeigeIpickedoutofthedrugstorecheapbin.Oneswipeofmascara.Nothingelse.Idon’tbothertoopenthecabinetwhereIstoremyperfumecollection,allthoseglassbottlesfilledwithflowersandspice.Idon’twearanytowork,notanymore.
AmirrorcheckconfirmsIlooklikeanupholsteredcouch.NowonderSamYaothinksit’sridiculousformetoimpersonateFangli.He’sright.
AlthoughIleaveearly,adelayonthesubwaymeansIarrivethreeminuteslate.BrentraiseshiswristtolookathiswatchasIwalkintomakeitclearhenotices.Idon’tmakeeyecontact,buttheincidentaddstothetightballinmygutasIturnonmycomputer.Theonlysoundintheofficeisthetapoftyping,andofcourseBrentisaheavybutshittytypist,soeveryfewseconds,Ihearthebackspacekey.Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat.Click.Clickclick.Dat-dat-dat.
GarnetBrothersisaninvestmentfirm,andthemarketingdepartment,whereIworkasaprojectcoordinator,keepsmoderatelybusytryingtofindwaystosubtlyremindpeoplethatonlyidiotsmanagetheirownmoney.It’saboringbutwell-establishedcompany,whichiswhyItookthisjoboveramoreexcitingyetriskierrolewithatechstart-up.ThefirsthourofeverymorningisspentansweringemailsIdidn’twanttodealwithonmyphone,andabouthalfareotherpeople’sproblemsthathavebeendumpedonmetosolve.MostareroutinebuttwoorthreearecomplicatedenoughthatI’llneedtocheckwithToddbeforeresponding.IdecideIcangetawaywithaskingaboutthemoveremailinsteadofbookingameeting.Mygifttome.
“Gracie.”Todd’ssmoothvoicecomesovermycubiclewall.WhenIturn,he’sstandingtooclosebehindmeandhisblueeyesglintwithacoldlight.“Cometomyoffice.Now.”
HeleavesandassumesI’llfollow.Ido,Brent’sgazeboringintomybackasIfantasizeaboutreachingbehindandgivinghimthefinger.ToddwaitsuntilIenterhisofficeandthenclosesthedoor.Icursemyselfforleavingmyphoneatmydesk.
“Bitofafrumpylookforyou,”heobserves.“Ilikedyoubetterintheblackdresswiththatredlipstickyouusedtowear.Itwashot.”
“Ha,thanks.”Myownresponsemakesmesick.I’manindependentadultwoman.IshouldtellhimwheretogoandIcan’t.Ijust…can’t.Myneedforthisjobisanoosearoundmyneck,agaginmymouth.
“You’dbequiteanattractivegirlifyousmiledmore,”hesays,sittingontheedgeofthedeskandadjustinghisbelt.“Ithinkwecouldhavesomegoodtimes.”
IthinkofSamandfindabitofthecourageIhadlastnight.“Idon’tthinkso.”MyvoicecomesoutlikeI’veswallowedit.
“No?”Hesoundssharp.
Ishakemyhead.
“Toobad.Gracie,we’reterminatingyouasoftoday.”
“What?”
Heslapsaprintoutdownonthedesk.“Youcalledinsickyesterday.Doesthislooklikeagirlwho’sill?”
It’sthesamepaparazziphotoFanglihadshownme.ItrytobrazenitoutbecauseIcan’tlosemyjob.
“That’sWeiFangli.Thephotosaysso.”
“WhyisWeiFangliholdingthepursethat’sbesideyourdeskrightnow?”heasks.It’slikelisteningtoasnakespeak.“EvenunderthathatIcantellit’sGracieReed.AdmititandI’llbeeasyonyou.”
Thenhelickshislipsagain,andalthoughmygutclenchessohardIhavetostopmyselffromdoublingover,Ikeepmyvoicelevelandstareataspotbetweenhiseyes.“It’snotme.”
“HumanResourcesagreesyouarenolongeranassettothisdepartment,”hesays.“Thisisthefinalnailinyourcoffin.Unlessyouwanttoreconsider?”Hiseyesshiftdownandmyskincreeps
Iknowwhathe’ssaying.Notoutloud,he’stoosmarttogivemeanyammo,buttheimplicationisclear.SoisthefactthatifIchallengehimonthis,I’llbetoldthatIshouldgetovermyself.Thisappallingrealizationcrashesdownonme,andwhateverheseesinmyfacemakeshisharden.Heshovesapapertowardme.“Yourterminationagreement.Signitbeforetheendoftheweek.Securitywillseeyouout.”
That’sit.Hegoesbackbehindhisdesk,ignoringme.I’mtooshockedtoreact,andwhenthedooropensandtwosecurityguardscomein,Icanonlyfollowthem.Luckily,mostofmycoworkersareoutatmeetingsandIdon’tseeanyonebutBrent,grinningopenlyatmyflankingguards,andKathy,theadminassistant,whohandsmemypurseandsaysshe’llsetupatimeformetocomeclearmydesk.Shedoesn’tlookmeintheface.
ThenI’moutandjobless.Myphonebeepstoremindmeofameetinginfifteenminutes,andwhenIdeleteit,Ilookatmyworktasklist.
Ideletethat,too.
ThenIgohome.Four
ThefirstdayafterIgetfired,Ilieinbedandstareattheceiling.
TheseconddayafterIgetfired,Ibrushmyteethandverycarefully,withoutlookingatit,tucktheterminationletterfacedownunderapileoflaundry.ThenIcallabombthreatintoTodd’soffice.
Iwish.InsteadIgobacktobed,pullthecoversup,andwatchNetflixuntilmyeyesburn.Idon’trememberwhichshows.
ThethirddayafterIgetfired,ItextmyfriendAnjaliandaskhertocomeover.Idon’thavealotoffriends,probablybecauseInevermanagetoputinthetimeandeffortnecessarytomaintainthem.Anjalihasalwaysbeendifferent.Icandriftinandoutofherlife,andeachtimewestarttalking,it’sasifweneverleftoff.Shesaysshe’stoobusyatworktodealwithhigh-maintenancefriendsandIknowIneverhavetoworryaboutheryellingthatshelovesmewhenwesaygoodbye,forcingmetosayitback.ButIdependonher,oratleastIdependonknowingshe’llbethere.
Whenshegetstomyplace,shehasabagofchips,twobottlesofwine,andanacidexpression.“Thatasshole,”shesaysasshebrushesbyme.“Didyoutalktoalawyer?”
“BeforeIgotfired.”
“Didyousigntheletteryet?”Shekickshersandalsoffatthedoorwithoutmeasking.Bothofusfindwearingoutdoorshoesinthehousedisgusting.“Holdup,didyousaybeforeyougotfired?Didyouseethiscoming?”
Itakethewinefromherandstaysilent.
“Don’tsignuntilyougiveittothelawyertolookat,”sheadvises.“Youcanprobablygetmoreseveranceoutofthem.”
“Enoughtocoverthelawyer’sfees?”
Sheshrugsandheadstothekitchen.“Fivebucksaheadisstillahead,”shecallsoverhershoulder.“PlusitshowsGarnetyou’renopushover.”
That’sanAnjalithingtosaybecauseherzodiacsignisLeoandherChinesezodiacismonkey,meaningshe’ssmartandtrickyandbelligerent.I’manAriesandamonkeyandI’msupposedtobethosethings,too,insteadofaPiscesrabbit:duckingconfrontationandneverpushingback.
Anjalidoesn’tknowthewholeoftheToddstory.Ionlytoldherthathe’saterribleboss.Icouldn’ttellheraboutthewayhemademefeelbecauseit’stoohumiliatingtoadmitIdidn’tstophimwhenIknowIshouldhave.IshouldhavereportedhimtoHumanResources.Ishouldhavekneedhimintheballs.Ishouldhavesaidscrewmyjobandstoodupformyself.Ishouldhave…Ishouldn’thave…
Shehandsmeaglassofwineandpoursthechipsintooneofmymixingbowls.“Sit,eat,anddrink,”shesays.“Howareyoufeeling?”
“Numb?”
Anjaliswirlsthewine.“Tobeexpected.Wouldyoulikesomeadviceortofigureitoutyourself?”
She’sbeinggood,askingbeforepilingin,andit’snotherusualapproach.Ilaughandmythroatfeelsrusty.“Howhardwasthattodo?”
“Sofuckinghard.”Shegrins.“I’mgettingbetter.ThelifecoachishelpingmebemoreintentionalandthinkbeforeIactbecauseapparentlynoteveryonewantsmebuttingintotheirbusiness.”
Idon’twantAnjalitohelpmewithalist—I’dprefertotalk—buthelpingmakesherhappysoIpushovermysheet.“ThisiswhatIhavesofar.”
Shepullsherblackhairbehindhershoulders.“Youhavetwothingsonthislist.”
“Yep.”
“Brushteeth,”shereads.“Findjob.”
“Icancheckoffthefirstone.”Ibrushedmyteethbeforeshecameover,andnowthewinetastesterrible.“Ishouldchangethesecondto‘findmoney.’Icouldwinthelottery.”
“Notaviableoption.”Shesighs.“Let’stalkforabitbeforewetackleyournonlist.”
“Fine.”
“Tellmeexactlywhathappened.”
Idon’thavetheenergytokeepitsecretanymoreandtellherthestory.Anjali’seyesnarrowuntiltheyalmostclose.“Whydidn’tyoutellmeitwasthisbad?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”I’dglossedoverthegrosserstuff,unwillingtolingeronitlongenoughtoevensaythewordsortobotherherwiththedetails.
“Yousaidhewasabadboss,”shesaysgently.“Thisisfarbeyondsomeinsecuremicromanager,Gracie.”
“Iknow.”
Shefrownsandmovesherglassfromhandtohand.“Again,whydidn’tyoutellmeearlier?”
“Youwouldhavetoldmetoquit.”
“Right,and?”
“Ineedthatjob.Needed.I’vebeenlookingformonthsandthere’snothingoutthere.Youwouldhavekeptaskingmeaboutmyjobsearch.”
“I’mnotthatbad,”saysAnjali.ShegrimacesatthelookIshoother.“Sorry,maybeIam.ButI’mupsetyoudidn’twanttotalkaboutitwithme.”
“Ididn’twanttotalktoanyoneaboutit.Ever.Atall.”
“Problemsdon’tgoawaybecauseyouignorethem.Wecouldhavethoughtofaplantogether.”
“Likewhat,asting?”It’seasiertoturnthisintoajoke.
“We’dmicyouupinthebathroombeforesendingyouintotheboardroom.”Shecranesherheadlefttopretend-whisperintothefakemicinherlapel.“WehaveeyesonWalrus.”
“Subtle.”
“Thanks.”Shesipsherwine.“Seriously,tellmenexttime.It’sbettertotalkitout.”
“NexttimeIgetsexuallyharassedbymybossandfired?DefinitelyIwillcallyou.”
“Good.”Anjalinods,satisfied,butthenherexpressionchanges.“That’snotwhatImeant.”
Istartlaughingandshehitsmewithapillow.
“Therewon’tbeanexttime,”shebellows.“That’sthefuckingpoint.”
WecalmdownandIsigh.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutworkanymore.”
“Okay.How’syourmom?”Anjalionlymetheracoupleoftimesbackwhenwewereinuniversitybutsheknowsthestory.PartofthereasonourfriendshiprekindledisthatIsawhersocialmediapostonhelpinganauntwithAlzheimer’s.
“Good.”
Anjaliglaresatme.“Areweabouttohavethesametalkaboutyourmomaswedidaboutyourboss?Thetrust-your-friendstalkIgavetwentysecondsago?”
She’sright.“Shelivesinthepastmoreoften.HerAlzheimer’sisslowbutit’sprogressing.”
“I’msorry.”
“Yeah,me,too.”That’sthebestIcanexpectnow,andIdon’twanttogointothemessoffeelingsIhaveaboutMombecauseI’mnotevensureaboutthemmyself.I’vebeendealingwiththesituationratherthananalyzingit,andI’mhappywiththat.Anjalisensesthisandturnstheconversationtoaworkplacedramathatwehappilydissectasweassignoutlandishulteriormotivationstoallplayers.
Wedrinkanotherglassofwineandfinishthechipsandtalkaboutmynewskincareroutine(nowincludingdoublecleansing,toner,andashitloadofmoisturizerthatguaranteessmoothskinintomycroneyears)andAnjali’scrushontheguyatthegymthatshedecidedshe’snevergoingtopursue.“Ifit’samess,I’dhavetofindanewgymandthisone’scheapashell,”shesays.
Anjalislopsmorewineintoourglasses,thengrabsanotepadandapen.“Enoughofthis.Icameheretodrinkwineandorganizeyourlife,anditlookslikewe’realmostoutofwine.”
Isnugglebackintovelvetypillowsthatwerespecificallyboughtforthepurposeofsnuggling.“What’sfirst?”
Shetapsthepenonthepaper.“Wecangoaboutthistwoways.Practicalorbluesky.”
“Practical.”
“Boringbutokay.”
Itipmyglassbackandfrownattheceiling.
“Youneedmoney,”Anjaliprods.“Howmuchfuck-youmoneydoyouhave?”
Fuck-youmoneyisthemoneyyousaveforwheneveryouneedtotellyourbossoryourpartnerwheretogoasyoublowoutthedoor.ExceptIusedmyfuck-youmoneytopaytheextrafeesforMom’sprivateroomatGlenLake.ThegovernmentonlypaysthecostforsharedroomsandMomwouldhatethat.Weoncevisitedmygrandfatherinasharedroom—helikedthecompany—andshecameoutandwhisperedtomethatshe’dratherbeleftinaforesttobeeatenbyanimalsthanhavetodealwithastranger’snoisesallday.Momneedsquiet.
“Enoughforonemonthandtheyofferedthreemonthsofseverance.”
“Getthelawyertoboostthat.Notbad,though.Youhavetime.”ShewritesFindnewjobonthelistandthenunderthat,withoutaskingmyopinion,fourthingsIneedtodotoachieveit.Shelooksup.
“Aren’tyouobsessedwiththoseto-dolistapps?Seemslikeagoodtimetobustoneout.”
“IdecidedIdon’tlikeanyofthem.”NoneofthemdoexactlywhatIwant,butwhateverdoes?
“Makeyourown,then.”Shetossesthisofflikeit’snobigthingandbendsdowntowrite:
Cleanapartment.
GetToddcursed.
CallFredabouttermination.
Exerciseeveryday.
AssassinateTodd.
VisitMom.
Thelastmakesmecatchmybreath.WhatifXinGuanghasaroomavailablesoon?It’simpossibletoknowwhenaroomwillcomefree,asitdependson…well,someonedying,whichisawfullymorbid.Theyonlygiveyousixhourstoacceptbeforeitgoestothenextpersononthelist.Ineedtohavemoneyreadyforadeposit,andIwon’thaveitwithoutajob.
Anjalitapsthepenagainstherleg.“Doyoudoamonthlybudget?”
“Ofcourse.”Imeanttodoone,atleast.
Shestopstapping.“IfIasked,couldyouprovideitinpaperordigitalformat?”
“It’smoreofamentaltracking.”
Shedoesn’tbothertoanswer.Herpenfliesoverthepaperasshelistsoutmyexpectedmonthlyexpenses.Witheachline,mybreathinggetsalittleshallower.Rent.Food.Phone,utilities,Mom’sprivateroom.Transit.Clothes.Shepursesherlipsandcrossesthatout.“Bettergetusedtoshoppingyourcloset,”shesays.
Ihavenojob.Noincome.Norecruitersbangingonmydigitaldoortohireawomanwhocanonlyofferanaverageskillsetandterminationletterinsteadofaglowingreference.
SuddenlyFangli’sofferseemsmoreappealing.IemptymyglassandopenmymouthtoaskAnjaliheropinion,thenshutitfastbecauseIdon’twantheranswer.Iknowwhatitwillbe.
Instead,Itakethepapershehandstomeandlookitoverbeforeaddinganinvisibletask.
CallWeiFangli.
Anjalileavesanhourlater,andwiththedaringofalmostabottleofwineinme,Itextthenumberonthecard.
I’minterestedinlearningmore.
Idon’tevenhesitatebeforeIhitSend.Thisisn’tlikemebut,again,wine
Iposeinthebathroommirror,tryingtoimitateFangli’sserenesmileandconfidence.Bothareunsuccessful.
We’llseewhattomorrowbrings.Probablymorefailure.
***
Thehangxietyhitsatexactlyfourinthemorning.Ijerkoutofsleep,hearthammeringanddreadbreakingoverme.IhadafewdrinksandmyentirebodyknowsIfuckedupandhumiliatedmyself.What?What?WhatdidIsay?Icurlupandburymyheadunderthecovers.Anjalicameover.Wedrankwine,mademylist.IemailedFredtosetupanappointmentaboutmyterminationagreement.Anjalireaditover,soIknowthatwasfine.Whensheleft,ItextedWeiFangliandveryproudlyputathick,blackmentallinethroughthattask.
ItextedWeiFangli.
MybodyinstinctivelycoilsuptighterasIpinpointmytragicerror.Whydidn’tIwaituntilthemorningandsoberreflection?
It’stoolatenow.IreachoutandfindmywaterbottleemptysoIstumblethroughthedarkapartmenttofillitup.Inthekitchen,Idrinkdeeply,thenrefillthebottleandreturntobed.Myphoneislyingfacedownonthenighttable,andIgrabit.Maybemymindisplayingtricksonme;IonlythoughtIsentthetext.
HotelXanadu,Room1573.Noontomorrow.Wearahatandsunglasses.
Thetexthadbeensent.Thetexthasbeenanswered.I’dputthisinmotionwithwinecourage.It’sonlyformoreinformation,Iarguewithmyself.Idon’thavetotakethedeal.Icanwalkoutatanytime.
Right,that’ssolikeme.
IputthephonedownandstartaninteriorconversationIknowwilltakemetodawn.It’snotsomuchadialogueasitismybrainonacarouselcirclingthroughthesamethoughts.
Youdon’twanttodothis.
Youmusthavewanteditifyousentthetext.
Youcansayno.It’snotabloodcontract.
Maybeitwillbeworthit.It’salotofmoney.
Thisisabadidea.Youdon’twantthis.Thisisahugerisk.Toomanythingscangowrong.
It’snotlikethingsaregoingrightatthemoment.
Whatifyoumessup?Everyonewillknowyou’reanidiot.They’llmakefunofyouandyou’llgoviralandthere’snooneyoucanturntoforhelp.You’llneverbeabletogooutsideagain,andeverytimeyouapplyforajobandtheysearchyourname,they’llfindoutandthinkyou’resomedesperatenarcissisticposeur.Momwouldbeappalledifsheknewyouwerecontemplatingstickingyourheaduplikethis.Whodoyouthinkyouare?
Thethoughtskeephammeringme.Intheend,it’snotdawnbeforeIfallasleep.Idon’tgetbacktosleepatall.Five
At11:50a.m.thenextdayIdomybesttoswingintotheXanadulikeIowntheplace.AlthoughIknowthehotelisoneofthemostexclusiveinthecity,I’malittledisappointedthere’snoOliviaNewton-Johnmemorabilia.Thelobbyisdecoratedwithsleekblackvasesonspotlessglasstables,eachholdingasinglewhitepoppywithahot-pinkstem.Thefaint,lightsmellofgreenteaandfigwaftsthroughthespaceasanolfactorywelcome.
Asmyheartthumps,Iremindmyselfit’sonlyahotel.I’vebeentoalotofhotels,includingahoneymoonsuiteinNiagaraFalls(notonahoneymoon)thathadaheart-shapedredhottubwithshort,curlyhairsdecoratingthetaps.Butthere’snodenyingifIhadtoplacetheXanaduandthattouristtraponamap,theywouldoccupydiametricspaces
ItrytolooklikeIbelongasIsearchfortheelevators,whichIcan’tfindbecausethelobbyhasapparentlybeencarvedfromasingleslabofblackmarbletracedwithgoldenveins.Itiltdownmysunglasses—Iobeyedthedisguiseinstructions,gratefulbecausethiswouldn’thaveoccurredtomeatall—andassessthesituation.Awomaninablacksuit,soslendershe’sbarelywiderthanherstilettoes,comesnearmeandIstopher.
“Sorry,canyoutellmewheretheelevatorsare?”
Shelooksdownhermedicallysculptednose.“DoIlooklikethehelp?”Hervoiceishighandweedy.
NormallyI’dcrawlawayanddieafterbeinggiventhatlook,butthistimeherattitudeislikechewingontinfoil.“Yes.”Iglanceatherprojectingchestasthoughsearchingforanametag.“Aren’tyouTracy?Fromthefrontdesk.”ThenIsidestepherandwalkaway,rejoicinginmysinglehitattheonepercent.Eattherich.
Ieventuallyfindtheelevatorsatthebackofthelobbyneartherecessedconciergedesk.Theelevatorsareblackmarbleaswell,andIspendthetimegoinguptothefifteenthfloorwonderingifsomepoorsapspendstheirtimepolishingeverysquareinchofthisdesignnightmare.Thewallsshinelikemirrors,reflectiveenoughthatIcantakeoffmyhatandgivemyhairafinalfix.
Theelevatordoorssilentlyopenontoamonochrome-graycorridorwithbronzesconcesonthewalls.Myhandtightensonmypurse,andIforcemybreathoutthroughthelumpinmychest.Youdon’tneedtotakeanydeals.Thisisaninformationalinterviewonly.
IcheckthedirectionspaintedinscriptonthewallandfindRoom1573sevendoorsdowntotheleft.Myhandhoversnearthepeephole:IcanknockorIcanrun.
ThechoiceistakenfrommewhenthedoorswingsopentorevealawomanIdon’trecognize.Herblackhairiscutintoasleekbobthatpartspreciselyinthemiddletoframeherfaceandswingsforwardwhenshenodsatme.“Ms.Reed?”
“Yes.”Ipulloffmyshades,andhereyeswidenslightlyasshegesturesmein.Itrytopretendthisisnothingoutofmyordinary,butthisisnostandardroom.EveryotherplaceI’vestayedhastheclosettoonesideofthedoor,thebathroomontheother,andthebedintheroombeyondplacedonslightlystainedindustrialcarpet,possiblywithafaintpatternpickedoutinmaroon.HereIstandonathick,ivory-tonedPersianruglaidoverdarkhardwoodfloorsinaroomlargerthanmywholeapartment.Aconversationzoneofdeepwhite-leathercouchessurroundsalarge,glossyblackcoffeetable.Floor-to-ceilingwindowsrevealthelake,andIcanseethegreentreesoftheTorontoIslands.Theairisslightlyperfumedwithcedarfromalineofflickeringblack-jarredcandlesliningthesidetable.
IdomybesttonotlookflusteredbutIknowtherediscreepingupmyneckfromnerves.
FanglistandsasIenter,andI’mnotsurprisedtoseeherwatchdogSamthere.Iamsurprisedwhenmyheartskipsabeat.Hestandsinapuddleofmorningsunthatlightshimup.Inallblackwithhishairtumblingdownoverhiseyes,SamYaoissohotandsocoolthatheshouldexplodefromthecontrast.
“Ican’tbelieveyou’regoingthroughwiththis,”hetellsFangli,inEnglishsoit’sobvioushewantsmetohear.Hedoesn’tlookatme.
Bam!Therewego!Hewasajerkinthecarandhe’sajerknow.Hewasobviouslyposingintheperfectlightbecausehe’samoviestarandthat’swhattheydo.Ifeelhimbecominglessattractiveinmymind.TheideaslowlycomestomethatthismanisgoingtobeoutofmylifeinaminuteandIdon’thavetolikehimorimpresshim;it’sarevelationformyusualpeople-pleasingself.
Fanglicomesover,tailoredgraypantsuitflowingaroundher,andleansintodelivernotonebutthreeair-kisses.Istandstraight,notwantingtomoveaccidentallytothewrongsideandmessupherperfectlyappliedredlipstick.Upclose,hermakeupcan’tcoverthedarkshadowsunderhereyesortheanxietypinchingherface.Despitethefatigue,herskinissmoothandluminous.ThemoreIlookather,themoreIcanfeelmyeveryimperfection,includingthefrecklesonmynosethatneverbotheredmebefore.I’mthecountrymousenexttothecitymouse.
“I’mgratefulyoucame,”shesays,takingmyhandsanddrawingmeovertothecouch.WhenIrealizehowpleasedIamtofollowher,Imakesuretokeepsomedistancebetweenus.Myinternetsearchthismorningmadeitclearshe’sbeenexpertlytrainedtocharm.Icouldn’tfindasinglenegativearticleabouther.She’sneversteppedwronginherpublicorpersonallife,hasneverbeenadrunkenmessorsaidanunkindword.Infact,thephrase“consummateprofessional”cameupmultipletimes.
Iruffleupmyhairaswesitdown.Likeafishsensesashark,IfeelSammovingtothecouchesbehindme,butIdon’tlook.“I’mnotsurethisistherightthingforme,”Isaycautiously.IshouldtellherflatoutthatImadeamistakewhenItextedherbutit’shardwhenfacedwithFangliinperson.Idecidedintheelevatortohaveaquickconversation,giveanoncommittalanswer,andthenleavethecountry,whichisobviouslythebestandmostreasonablewaytodealwiththissituationwithminimalawkwardness.MaybeIshouldhaveghostedonthisentiremeeting.
“Beforewebegin,youneedtosignthis.”Samslidesapaperinfrontofme.
Ireaditover.Thisnondisclosureagreement(the“Agreement”)datedonthis19thdayofJune…“AnNDA?”
“Weneedtoprotectourselves.”
“It’stheusualprocess,”Fangliassuresme.“Itprotectsbothofus.”
ToirritateSam,IreadtheAgreementwithexaggeratedslowness.It’sareasonablerequestforsomeonewhoassumesI’muntrustworthyandcanbesummarizedasGraciewillkeephermouthshutunderpainofdeathoratleastprotractedandexpensivelegalproceedings.IsignitandFanglidoesaswell,withSamasthewitness.
“Nowwecanspeakfreely,”saysFangli,lookingatthesignatureswithsatisfaction.
“Right.AsIsaid,I’mnotsureaboutthis,”Isay.
“Youlostyourjobthisweek,”Samsays,comingintomyfieldofvision.
Idon’treplyandFanglispeaksasifhehasn’tsaidaword.“It’sasIdiscussedinthecar.I’mherefortwomonthsandIneedadoubleforpublicappearances.Youwouldlivenextdoorinaroomthatadjoinsthissuite.”
Livehereinaluxuryhotel.Okay,there’sthat.“Whowouldknow?”
“Onlythethreeofusandmyassistant.Mymanagerwouldnotapprove.”Shesmilestightly.
“Whynot?”
Behindme,Samsighs.“Becausethisisanoutrageousidea.That’swhyhewouldn’tapproveandwhyFangliisn’ttellinghim.”Iglanceover,surprised.Hedoesn’tsoundharsh,onlywornout,likeamanwho’sdonehisheroicbestandfailedmightily.
“Mymanageriswhatyouwouldcallaworkaholic,”Fanglisays,notlookingatSam.“Hedoesn’tunderstandexhaustionbutI’mtiredout.”
Havingexperiencedburnout,thismakessense,althoughmysolutionwasnottohireabodydouble.Well,ittakesallkinds.Anideaoccurstome.“Areyouusingmetolureastalker?”
“No.”
Nostalkers,that’sgood.“Whatkindofeventsarewetalkingabout?”WhyamIaskingwhenIdon’twanttodoit?It’slikeajobinterviewwhereyouknowthemomentyouwalkinthattheplaceisn’tforyou,butyoufeelobligedtogothroughthemotionssoastonotberude.Idon’thavethecouragetocutthisshort,notaftersayingIwouldcome
MaybeI’malittleintrigued.Afterall,moviestarsdon’tapproachmeeveryday.
TheassistantbringsteaasFanglitalks.Samlurksbehindthecouch,closeenoughformetoknowhe’stherebutnottofeelactivelythreatened.He’ssilentbuthisdisapprovalislikeawhisperinmyear.EventhoughIknowit’snotaboutmepersebutratheraboutFangli’swholeplan,itbothersmeandIalmostwanttoagreejusttospitehimTakethat,SamYao.Beinggorgeousdoesn’tmeanyougeteverythingyouwant.Welcometolife.
“I’mnotsurethiswillwork,”Isayfinally.“Welookabitalike,butwe’reverydifferentpeople.”
Shegivesmeawry,wearylook.“I’vebeenmisidentifiedoftenenoughtoknowmostpeopleinNorthAmericawon’tseethosedifferences.”
“Photoscanbeseenaroundtheworld,”Ipointout.
Sheshrugs.“You’vealreadybeenmistakenformeinaphotowithouteventrying.”
Thewholethingisfairlystraightforwardasshelaysitout.IwouldspendafewdayslearningFangli101andFamousActorBasicslikegrooming,smilingintocameras,andavoidingdeepconversations.ThenI’dgototwoorthreeeventsaweek.Sometimesopeningsorspecialevents,sometimessimplybeingseeninrestaurantsoraroundthecitybecausehermanagementinsistsshebuildherimageinNorthAmericawhileshe’shere.“Onlymyassistantiswithmenow,though,”shesays.“TherestoftheteamreturnedhomeafterIwassettledinsowedon’thavetoworryaboutthemnoticingyou.”
Shewouldpersonallytakecareofanyeventthatinvolvedpeoplesheknewwell
“Whataboutyourfans?”Iask.“Won’ttheybedisappointediftheyfindoutthatI’mnotyou?”
Fangli’ssmilelooksabitcrooked.“Theydon’twantme,”shesays.“Theywantthebeautiful,perfectWeiFanglitheyseeontheirscreens,andIcan’tmatchhereither.Thinkofitlikeastuntactororabodydouble.Arefanslessexcitedduringanactionscenewhenanotherwomanjumpsoutofacarinsteadofme?”
Iseeherpointanddon’thaveananswerbesidesaslightdiscomfortthatIrepress.
“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikealot,”Isay.“Youreallycan’thandleit?”
Sam’svoicecrashesovermyshoulder.“Doyouthinkyou’dbehereifthiswasn’therlastresort?”
“Nooneaskedyou,”Isnapdefensively,feelingmycheeksflush.IshouldhavethoughtbeforeIspoke.
Fanglipressesherhandslowforustocalmdown.“It’sareasonablequestion.Ilovethestagebutit’sdraining.Thisway,Icandomybestbutkeepmyteamandmyfanshappy.”
Sam’sphonerings,andwhenheleavestheroom,myeyesautomaticallyfollowhim.Heobviouslyneverskipslegdaybecausehisthickthighscurveoutwithpuremuscle,apleasantsightaccentuatedbythetightblackjeans.
Oncehe’soutoftheroom,IthinkofMomandherroomatXinGuang.Ithinkofthewaymysavingsaregoingtodwindle.Then,likeashallowbitch,IrememberhowmuchIlikedthesoundoftheaudiencecheeringafterthoseuniversityplays,ofnotblendinginforthosefewmoments.
“I’msogratefulyou’redoingthis.”Fangli’svoiceisflat,andwhensheraiseshereyestome,they’reglintingwithtears.“I’matmywits’endtryingtopleaseeveryone.”
I’mdefeated.IletherbelieveI’ddoitandIcan’tsaynonow.MyvisiontunnelsslightlyandIfeeltrapped,evenwiththelureofpotentialapplause.“Okay.”IhearmymouthsaythewordbeforeIknowI’msayingit.ButthesecondIdo,myshouldersstraightenbecause—behonest—Iwantthisescape,thisnewexperience.Otherwise,Iwouldhavetossedthatcardinthegarbagerightaway.
“Yes,”Isaymorefirmly.“I’min.”
MomwouldkillmeifsheknewbutforonceIwanttotakeachanceonlivingmylifeinalanethat’snotthedeadmiddle—andbylivingmylife,IguessImeanimpersonatingFangli’s.
Shebeams.“IknowyourmotherisChinese.DoyouspeakMandarin?Cantonese?”
“Neither.”
Herfacefallsbutsherallies.“Wecanworkaroundit.I’llsayIwanttoworkonmyEnglish,andI’llonlyspeakithereinhonorofbeinginCanada.”Shenodsasifthisisafine,workablesolution.Imarvelathowshemakesthedecisionwithoutagonizingaboutwhatotherswouldthinkorifitwasthebestcourseofaction.“I’mverygladyoudecidedtoaccept.”
WehaveamomentofcommunalsilenceandIalmostforgetshe’safamousmoviestar.Shefeelscomfortable,likewemighthavebeenfriendsinmuchdifferentcircumstances.ItmustbethatvauntedFanglicharm.Thenshesays,“Samdoesn’tagreewithwhatI’mdoing,buthe’llbefine.”
Ishrug.NowthatthedecisionhasbeenmadeI’mbetter,morecontrolled.“Ican’timagineseeinghimmuch.”
Fangliwidensherbrowneyes.“Didn’tIcoverthat?”
Myheartsinks.“Don’ttellme.”
“Oh.”She’ssilentandIrealizeshetookmeliterally.
“Sorry.Tellme.Sam’spartofthis?”
“He’smyusualescort.He’llbeyours.”Shewavesherhands.“Notouching.Nohugging,kissing,orholdinghands.Hewasveryfirmonthat.”
“Hewas,washe?”AlthoughIshouldbepleasedabouttheclearboundaries,I’malittleunsettledtheyhadthistalkinadvance.Didtheyworkthroughscenariossuchaswhatifthebodydoubleissouncontrollablyattractedtomeshetriestojumpme?Doeshehaveascript?DoIneedtosignanothercontract?
SamcomesbackintheroomandIstand,notwantingtogivehimtheadvantageofheight.He’sstillaboutsixinchestallerthanIam,butthat’sbetterthanloomingovermebyanextratwofeetwhenI’mseated.Helooksatthetwoofus.“We’redoingthis?”
“Graciehasagreed.”
Sam’slipsthin.“Didshe?”Hedoesn’tlookatme.
“Idid.”Igivehimabigfakesmile,notwantinghimtoknowhowbotheredIambyhisattitude.“We’reateamnow.”
“We’renotateam.”
Ikeepthesmile.“Wesureare.Remember,youcametome.”
Hestaresmedown.“Fanglidid.”
Mycourageebbs.“Ifthisisgoingtowork,don’tyouneedtopretendtoenjoymycompany,atleast?”
Samgivesmeaflatlookbeforehereachesdownandrunshishandoverhisshirt,tuggingthematerialenoughtooutlinehischestforabriefandwondrousmoment.Helowershisheadandseeksmyeyeswithhis.Hislipspartasifhe’sseenmeforthefirsttimeandlikeswhathesees.I’mmesmerizedashewalksoverbecauseunderhisgaze,I’mtheonlywomanintheworld.Hiseyesturnfrommyeyestomymouth,andhebiteshisinnerlowerlipbeforelookingintomyeyesagain.
Istopbreathing.
Samstandscloseenoughtoleandownandwhisperinmyear.“I’maverygoodactor.”
ThenhestraightensandIseethecoldSamI’malreadyusedto.
“Sam,”saysFanglisharply.“Whatareyoudoing?”
I’mtooshooktoevenbeembarrassedbymyreaction.He’samaster.“Wow,”Ifinallysay.“ThatwasseriousAcademyAwardmaterial.”
Hedoesn’tsmile.“IalreadyhaveanOscar,thanks.”
Thistime,Fanglistandsupandphysicallymovesbetweenus.
Butthatwalkovertomeisagauntlethe’sthrownandIconsiderthechallenge.I’mabouttopretendtobeWeiFangli,andifthere’sabetterchancetomakesomechangesinmylife,Idon’tknowwhenitwillbe.Icanremainthego-along-to-get-alongGracie,orIcanbethestrongGracieIalwayswishedIwas,theGraciewhospeakshermindinsteadofswallowingherwords.AnoversizemirrorleansagainstthefarwallandIcatchsightofthewomanreflectedthere,slumpedoveranddressedingraywithherarmscrossedsotightlyacrossherchestthathershirtwrinkles.Idropmyarmstomysides,raisemyhead,andturntosmileatSamoverFangli’sshoulder.It’savictorywhenhelooksawayfirst.Six
Fangli’sassistant,Mei,takesmeaside,andbyfourintheafternoon,I’mexhausted,myhandcrampedfromwritingnotesonlittleXanadunotepadswithblackXanadupens.Meiisanunsmiling,infiniteencyclopediaofallthingsFangli.Ihavenotesonwhattheactorrefusestoeat,whatdesignersshewears,herfavoritewordsandphrases.Evenmoremind-blowingistheknowledgethatallthisisnecessarybecausethereareenoughpeopleintheworldwhoknowWeiFangliwouldnever,evertouchanorangevegetablethattoeatacarrotwouldmakethenews.I’mfilledwithshockathowlittleofFangli’slifeisprivateandawethatIthinkIcanpullthisoff.
EventuallyMeiexcusesherselftotakecareofsomebusinesssoI’maloneasIshakeoutmyhandandwatchanotherplaneliftofffromtheislandairport.MyexhilarationofearlierhasbottomedouttostunneddisbeliefoverwhatI’vegottenmyselfinto.Ilookatthepositives:I’mmakingmoneyandit’sfranklyfarmoreinterestingthanlyinginbedsurfingjobboards.Iflifehandsyoulemonsandallthat.
Intheafternoonsummerlight,sailboatsswoopoverthelake,tippingthiswayandthatwiththewind.That’swhatIthoughtmovie-starlifewas:leisure,beachholidays,andshopping.Iforgottheworkthatgotthemthere.MeimentionedthatFanglihasn’tbeenonarealvacationinfouryears;evenwhenshetakesbreaks,sheappearsateventsand
Well,it’swhatshechose,andwhenIturnfromthewindowtograbanartisanalyuzu-infusedsparklingwaterfromthefull-sizebutinconspicuousrefrigerator,Idecideithasitsbenefits.
Sippingthewaterstraightfromthecan,Iflipthroughmynotes.Therearepagesuponpages,andevenlookingatthemdepressesme.Noneofmyusualto-dolistsareupforthisleveloforganization,butIneedonetomakethishappen.Igetstressedwithoutthoselists,thosechecks.Ineedtheperfectsystemtoorganizethis.
Makeyourown,then.Anjali’swordsdanceinfrontofmeinbright-pinkneon.Iputthedrinkdown.I’vebeencreatingaplanning-systemwishlistforages,butitneveronceoccurredtomethatinsteadoftryingtomakeotherprocessesfitmylife,Icouldmakemyown.
Nowthattheideahasbeenplanted,Iwanttotryit.Whatcangowrong,afterall?Imessupato-dolist?EvenIcandealwiththat.
“Areyoureadytoleave?”Meicomesintotheroom.“Ms.Weiwillbetoobusytoseeyouagain.”
“I’mready.”
WedecidedI’dmoveovertotheXanaduthedayafternext.Inthemeantime,IhavenotestogooverandalonglistofFangli’sEnglishandsubtitledChineseinterviewstowatchandread.Fangliinnewsfootage.AcompletebiographyofFangli’slife.Afullfilmography.
Ilookatthelistnowandwrinklemynose.Thisisalotofcontenttoconsume,evenforthemostdedicatedcouchpotato.“DoIhavetoknowallofthem?”
“I’vestarredthemostimportant,”Meisays.“Thoseyoumustwatchimmediately.PeoplequotelinesfromthemoviesatMs.Wei.”
WhenIgetbackintwodays,Meiwillhaveascheduleforme.We’vedecidedtoexplainmypresenceatthehotelbysayingI’malocalmakeupartistandfamilyfriend,andFangliisdoingmyauntieafavorbylettingmeworkonhertobuildmyclientele.Untilthen,I’mfreetogohomeandbingeonWeiFanglitrivia,haveAnjalicomeover(twiceinaweek,whichismorethanusualbutit’sbeenaverystrangefewdays),andthinkabouthowI’mgoingtodealwithSam.
Iputonmysunglassesandleave,Meishuttingthedoorfirmlybehindme.
Downinthelobby,noonelookstwiceandthefamiliarveilofinconspicuousnessfallsoverme.Willthatchangebynextweek?IthinkitwillandIfeelmychinrise.There’saGracietherewho’stiredofbeingoverlooked,eventhoughit’sentirelyofmyowndoing.IsthattherealreasonItookthisjob?
Disquieted,Igetonthesubway.
***
WhenIspillthestorytoAnjalithatnight,shehastheanticipatedresponse.
“Areyououtofyourfuckingmind,Gracie?”
MaybeitwasamistaketotellAnjali,butIdesperatelyneedtotellsomeonedespiteSam’ssepulchralwarningsofdoomandNDA-relatedlawsuits,andshe’stheonlypersonIspeaktoonaregularbasis.Itendtowardacquaintancesoverfriends,andthisisnotacquaintance-levelinformation.
“Ididn’tcomehereforthejudgment.”Ipouroutthewinebeforerippingopenabagofketchupchips.GrosscombinationbutIneedthefat-salt-alcoholjuggernauthit.
“First,Icametoyourplace.Second,considerthejudgmenttobeonthehouse.”Sheshakesherheadsoherglossyblackhair,nourishedbyweeklycoconutoilmasks,sweepsthroughtheair.AnjaliusingherhairforemphasisistheonlytimeIregretcuttingmineshort.ItusedtobepastmyshouldersbutitwasneverasprettyasAnjali’s.
“I’vealreadyagreed.”Istickmyhandintothebag,andAnjalicringesandhandsmeabowl.
“Stopbeingapig.”
Itipafewchipsintothebowl,handittoher,andthengobacktoeatingoutofthebagbeforeIpause.“DoyouthinkIshouldn’teatthechips?”Ifluttermyhandtowardmyhips.
“DoesWeiFanglilooklikeawomanwhoeatsalotofchips?Drinksbeer?Eatscarbs?”
“No.”Ichewachipmorosely,putthebagaside,andthengrabitbackandholdittomychestasIbrighten.“Wait.Shemustsinceshethinkswelooksimilar.”
“Theneatthedamnchips.”Anjalithrowsherselfonthecouch.“Jesus,eatingchipsistheleastofyourproblems.Haveyouthoughtthisthrough?”
“No.”Isitacrossfromher.“Obviouslynot.Thisisasecret.TheymademesignanNDA.”
“It’sgoodyoutoldmebecauseatleastsomeonewillknowthetruthwhentheykillyouandpretendyourbodyisherssoshecanescapeforanewlifeinBali.”
“That’stheplotofamovie.”ItmightevenbeoneofFangli’s.
“Iftheyonlywantedyourbody,thenyou’dprobablyalreadybedead,”sheagrees.“Honestly,though,howareyougoingtopullthisoff?You’reonlyhalf-Chinese.”
Itrynottowinceatthe“only,”whichimpliesthathalfisn’tenough.It’snotthatbigadeal.I’msureAnjalididn’tmeanitthewayitcameout,andIdon’twanttoputheronthespotandmakeherfeelbad.“It’sbizarrehowmuchalikewelook,”Isay.
Anjalitakesoutherphoneandrunsaquickimagesearch.“Itis,”sheagrees,swipingthroughthephotos.“WhatareyougoingtodoaboutnotspeakingChinese?”
“Fangli’sgoingtosayshewantstoworkonherEnglish,whichisalreadyperfect.ThankGodshehasnoaccentbecauseI’dbedoomed.”
“Whynoaccent?”
“Vocalcoach.PlusSamwillbetheretohelpmeintoughspots.Mostlyit’stobeseenoutandabout.”
“Sam?”
“SamYao.”
Shesitsboltuprightonthecouch,browneyeseatingupherface.“SamYao.SexiestMan?Award-winningactor?Cheekbonesthatmassageyourovaries?”
“Iknowallthis.”I’dbetterwatchhismovies,too.Meh.I’llreadhisWikipedia/IMDbpagesandcallitaday.MyantipathytoSam,ovarymasseuseornot,isstrong.
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’tleadwiththis.”Anjalidownshalfthewineinherglassandcoughs.“Youknowhe’saUNgoodwillambassadorfortheenvironment.”
“Huh.”Didn’tknowthatbutitdoesn’tchangemyopinionofhim.
Anjalileansforward.“Ishehotinreallifeorweird-looking?”
“Burninglyhot.Araginginfernosheathediniceandsmoothmuscle.”Isigh.“Withdimplesthatcomeoutwhenhesmiles.”
Shetsksatme.“Seriously.”
“I’mbeingserious.Thedimplesarereallydeep.”Shelooksabitdreamy,andIfeelbadforinterruptingherSamfantasywithreality.“Idon’tlikehim.”
“Whynot?”
“He’srude.Brisk.Doesn’tlikeme.”Ilookdowninthebagofchipstopokearoundforthebiggestone.
“He’sprobablyworriedaboutthisincrediblystupididea,”saystheeternaloptimist.“Whydidheagreetoit?”
“Fanglisnappedhiminline.”That’sright.I’monafirst-namebasiswithmoviestars.IforcebackaslightlyhystericalgigglebeforeAnjalithinksI’vetotallylostit.
Herthickandperfectlygroomedblackeyebrowsrise.“Rumorssaythey’redating.”
“Maybebuttheyactmorelikegoodfriends.”IfishoutthelastgoodchipbeforeI’mreducedtotiltingthebaguptomymouthtodrinkdownthecrumbs.
“‘Act’isthekeyword.They’reactors,sohowcanyoutellwhat’srealandwhatisn’t?Inanycase,becareful.Aguylikethatwouldchewyouupandspityououtasbones.”
Iscrunchmynose.“Graphic.”
Shesighs.“Notthatitwouldn’tbeworthit.Trytogethimmynumber.”
“Hecanbarelystandtobeinthesameroomasme.”
“You’llhandlehim,”shesayswithmisplacedconfidenceasshegoestothekitchenandrunsthetap.Afterreturningwithtwoglassesofwater,shesitsdown.“Forfun,let’sgothroughallthethingsthatcangowrong.”
“I’vealreadybeenthroughthem,multipletimes.”
“Excellent,thenit’llbeanicerefresher.”Sheliftsonefinger.“We’vetalkedaboutusingyourdeadbodyasproofofFangli’sdemisetohelpherescapefromastiflingpubliclife.”
“That’snotgoingtohappen.”
“Potentiallyfar-fetchedbutremainspossible.”Sheflipsupasecondfinger.“Notimetojobhunt.”
“Iamcapableofscanningjobsitesfortenminuteseachdaywhiletrainingtobeabodydouble.”
“Numberthree—andthisisthebiggie—ifthisgoeswrong,yourprivacywillbeshot.”Shepointsatherphone.“ImagineyoualloverZZTVandsocialmedia,outedasanimpersonator.Ittookyoutwoyearstotryoutredlipstick,forGod’ssake,andyou’veevenstoppeddoingthat.Youonlyweartwocolors,blackandboring.Howareyougoingtohandleworldwideattentionevenifitdoesn’tallgotoshit?”
SinceI’vealreadyworriedthistodeath,IhavetheanswerFangligaveme,theoneI’vebeenconsolingmyselfwith.“First,Ididwearthelipstick.”UntilTodd’sattentionruinedthatcosmeticadventure.“Second,it’sgoingtobelikeplayingapart,andI’vedonethatbefore.”
“Areyousayingthatbeinginaschoolplayisgoodpreparationforwalkingaredcarpet?Youcan’tbethatdelusional.”
“I’msayingI’vedonesomeresearchandIwillinhabitapersonatohelpmecope,likeanactorinaplayoraperformeronstage.”
“You’regoingtoSashaFiercethis?”
Ishrug.“WorksforBeyoncé.”
Shepicksupherwine,putsitdown,andthenpicksitupagain.“Andthepartaboutitallgoingtohell?”
“Theyhaveteamstotakecareofthat,”Isay.Fangliassuredmeifherplanwentsouth,she’dcallhermanagerandhe’ddowhatwasneeded,eventhoughhe’dbefuriousshe’dlefthiminthedark.Samhadn’tdisputedthis,soItookitastruth.
“Theteam’ssolutionmightbetoletyouhang,”Anjalisays.
“Thewholepointofthisisthatitdoesn’tgetout,”Ireason.
Sheblinks.“Holysmokes,youwanttodothis.You’refindingexcusesbecauseyouwantit.”
“It’sthemoney.”
“No,it’snot.YouwanttofakebeingFangli.”Sheshakesherfinger.“Insertthetrustyourfriendlecturehere.”
Ithrowmyselfbackonthecouch.“I’mdoingitforthemoney.”
“Howmanytimesdothesewordsneedtoleavemyred-wine-stainedzombielips?Trust.”
“It’salotofmoney,”Isay.“Idon’thaveajob.”
“Your.”Sheleansforwardasifdaringme.
“Look,Idon’thavemuchofachoice.”
“Friend.”Shenearlyyellsitandgesturesatmewithherwineglass,almostspillingitonthecouch.
Icrack.“Fuck.Ido.Iwanttodoit.Iadmitit.”Icovermyfaceandfeeltheskinheatwithembarrassmentbeneathmyhands.
“Okay.”
Peekingoutfrommyfingers,Iseehergrinningatme.“What?”
“Yeah,Igetit.It’saterribleideabutIgetwhyyouwanttodoit.”
“Youdo?”
“YougettolivelikeamoviestarandhangoutwithSamYaofortwomonths.What’snottoget?”Shesighs.“I’dprobablydothesame.Life’sforliving,right?”
Thathasn’tbeenmymantratodate,butit’sfarmoreaffirmingthanplayitsafe,soIgraspatit.“I’mnervous.”
“Youshouldbe,”shesaysdarkly,nixinganyhopeforapeptalk.“Butifyou’regoingtodoit,you’regoingtodoit.Howmuchmoneyarewetalkingabout,bytheway?”
Itellherhowmuchandshefrowns.
“Didyounegotiate?”
“ShouldIhave?”Ididn’teventhinkofit.“Sheoriginallyofferedahundredgrand.”
“Thenshewouldhavegonehigher.Whendoyougetpaid?”Sheseesmyface.“Youdidn’task,didyou?”
“Iwill,”Ipromise.Chagrinsetsinatmypoorbusinesssense.
“Youneedtotellthemtogiveyouatleasttwentypercentupfront.Doittomorrow.”Igiveheralookandshe’sself-awareenoughtolaugh.“I’mdoingitagain,aren’tI?GettinginyourfaceexactlylikethelifecoachsaysIdo?”
“Youare,butyou’reright.”
“Iknow.Ididyourbudgetforyou.I’mgoingtobackoffnowandpromisenottotextyouaboutthistomorrow.”
Iraisemyeyebrows.
“Nottextyoumorethanonce,”sheamends.
“Thankyou.”
“Here’stohopingyoudon’tendupdead.”Sheraisesherglass.
“Aw,thanks.”
Wetoast.Seven
Thenextmorning,IsettlemyselfatmywornandscratchedkitchentablewiththeindexcardsIspentthreehourswritinguplastnight.
Fanglidrinkshercoffeeblack.Iflipovermyflashcard.Correct.
ShewasbornNovember10,19…damn.Icheckthecardandtrytocommittheyeartomemorybychantingitfivetimes.
HerfirstmoviewasAlongtheRiver.Check.Releasedwhen?Iforgottoaddthatinandferretaroundonlinefortheanswer.
Fillintherestoftheline:“Foreveris…”IpauseanddragthepenagainstthetableasIrunthroughcheesylinesfromhermovies.“Onlyadaywithyou.”Gotit.
ThisprepworkismoreintensethanIthought.Mycozykitchenfeelslikeit’sgoingtocloseinonme,andifIstayformuchlonger,I’llstarttoseethecrumbsIshouldhavecleanedupbutdidn’tandtheglassinthesinkIoughttowashbutwon’t.TherearesomanythingsIshoulddo.
AtextcomesfromAnjali.Getthemoney.
Me:It’sonmylist.
Anjali:Doitnow.Don’tthink,do.
She’sright.
BeforeIcanpsychmyselfout,IsendatexttoFangli.Hey,sorry,wedidn’ttalkaboutapaymentschedule.Woulda20%advancebeokay?Noworriesifnot.
Istareatthelastline,almosthearingAnjali’sdisgustedgroan.OutcomesNoworriesifnotInstead,IwriteThanksandagonizeoverwhethertoaddanexclamationmarkorperiodbeforeIgowiththeexclamation.
IsenditbeforeIcanthinktwice,thenstuffeverythingIneedintoabagandheadoutthedoor,carefultowearafloppyhatandsunglasses.I’mbothnervoustocheckmytextsanddesperateforaresponse,whichresultsinmepullingmyphonehalfwayoutofmypocketseveraltimesbeforestoppingdeadonthesidewalktolook.
Noproblematall,Fangliwrote.Meiwillgetittoyou.Another30%atsixweeksandthentheremainderoncontractcompletion.
Oh.ThatwaseasierthanIthought.IcheckitoffmylistwithalightheartandsendatriumphanttexttoAnjali.
OnmywaytoCheri’scoffeeshop,Ihesitate.Itmightnotbesafetogothere;ifthephotographeriswaiting,I’llgetcaughtbeforeIbegin.Ineedtothinkaboutthesecelebritythingsnowandhowthey’llaffectFangli,soIduckintoanotherplacebeforeIhoponthebus.TodayI’llworkinMom’sroomandkeephercompany.ShemightenjoywatchingoneofFangli’smovieswithme.
It’sagoodmorning.Wegetherfavoritedimsumdeliveredandfeastonhargaoandcongeeandriceandnoodlesforlunch.Ihaven’tgoneoutfordimsumsinceMomwentintothehome.Itwassomethingwedidtogether,andtogoalonewouldcloseabookofmemoriesI’mnotpreparedtoshelve.Ioffersometothenurseatthestationbutsheputsherhandouttorefuse.“Idon’tevenknowwhattheyputinthatsortoffood,”shesays.
WhileIneverprogressedpastNorthAmericancrowdfavoritesandrefusetoeatphoenixclaws(becausethey’rechickenfeet),thousand-yeareggs(becausethey’regray),orfisheyes(becausethey’refisheyes),thesearedeliciousshrimpdumplings,forcryingoutloud.Sorrytheyaren’tchickennuggets.
Ipolishoffthedumplingsandsettledowntowork.GettingintocharactermighthelpandIdecideI’mnotGracieReed,joblessfailure,butanethnographerstudyingthelivesoftherichandfamous,tryingtoparseoutandisolateeveryattitudeandgesture.Withmycollectionofnote-takingimplementsineasygrasp,IgotothefirstURLonMei’slist.
Ittakesabouttwohoursofdedicatedviewing—Fanglihasdonealotofmedia,whatthehellhaveIbeendoingwithmylife—beforeIcomeacrossavideomontageofFangliandSamtogether.OrSamli,astheirfanscallthem.
ThisIwatchsixtimes.Maybeseven.Theymoveasoneunit,andSam’ssmilewhenheturnstoFangliismorerealthantheonehepresentstothecameras.Whentheyhittheredcarpetatthe1:56mark,shestumblesandhecatchesher,pullinghertightandlookingdownintoherraisedfacelikealovescenefromoneoftheirmoviesbeforeraisinghishandtobrushherhairoffherface.
IfIdidn’tknowfirsthandwhathe’slikeinreallife,Iwouldbesighing.MaybeIdoabitbecausedeepdownIhaveafantasyofhimlookingatmelikethat,asifI’mtheonlypersonwhomattersinthemiddleofallthatchaos.Istiflethisimmediately.Idon’tlikeSamandhowheunnervesme.Plus,maybethegossipisrightandtheyareacouple.Besttoassumetheyare.
Enoughofreality,orthismanufacturedHollywoodversionofit.IputintheperioddramaMeitriple-starred,ThePearlLotus.Theplotisstraightforwardenough:Fangliplaysanempresstryingtosavetheemperorfromanefariousplothatchedbyanoldandjowlyevilgeneral.Samplaysthenobleandsharp-jawedrivalgeneral,returnedfromsomewarwithhislovefortheempressburningbright.
MomdozesbesidemeandIwatch,enthralled,asthefilmunfolds.Asstunningasthesetsandcostumesare—Fangliwearsagownofembroideredgoldsolovelyit’sacharacterinitsownright—Ican’tlookawayfromFangliandSam.Atthepivotalmoment,Fanglihastochoosebetweenloveandduty.Ifshesendshimonamission,itwillsavetheemperorbutensurecertaindeathforSam.Theybothknowwhateverdecisionshemakes,Samwilldoitwithouthesitation—notoutofloyaltytotheemperororChinabutforher.
They’realoneinagardenbyapondthathasapearly-paintedgoldlotus.Fangli,theempress,doesn’thesitatetoorderthemission.There’snochangeinherconfident,arrogantdemeanor,buthereyesshowadevastatedwoman.ThencomesthesceneIpauseandreplayseveraltimes.Sambowsbutinsteadoflookingdown,hiseyesneverleaveher.Fanglistandsstraightandherfaceiscalm,butthesilksleevescoveringherarmstrembleasifawindpassesover.Betweenthem,withoutaword,thetwolayouttheagonyofunrequitedloveandthepainofduty.Themusicisasingleerhuplayingaslowrefrain.
Thenursinghome’svinylchaircreaksundermeasIsitback,mysneakerssqueakingonthewornlinoleum,dingywithyearsofworn-ingrime.IhaveuncomfortableemotionsthatIdon’twanttopulloutfromthelogI’vestuffedthemunder.ThataperioddramahasevokedthemalmostoffendsmebecauseIshouldgetupsetatthenews,notamake-believestoryoftwofictionalpeople.FangliandSam—mostlySamifI’mgoingtobehonest—makemevulnerable.Ihaveayearningfor…what?
Idon’tknow.More.That’sallIcantell.Idon’tlikethatSamcanmakemefeelthisdeeplywithoutevenknowinghispower.
Afterthisscene,MomwakesupfromherdozeandblinksasiftryingtorememberwhoIam.Ismile.“Gracie,Mom.I’mGracie.”
Shedoesn’treplybutturnsfrommetowhatI’mwatching.Thinkingtomakeiteasier,Ishiftthescreensoshecanseeit.
HerhandstretchesoutfasterthanIthoughtshewasable,andshesayssomethinginChinese.“It’sThePearlLotus,”Isayhelpfully,checkingthescreentoseewhat’shappening.“That’sWeiFangliplayingtheempress.Youknowher.She’sanactor.”
SheshakesherheaddesperatelyandIcursemyself.ThereareraredayswhenthethoughtofhomespiralsMomintoadeepdepressioninsteadofmakinghercomfortable.Pastexperiencetellsmethere’snothingIcandosoIturnoffthelaptopandholdherhandassherocksbackandforth.Eight
Therearedayswheneverythingcomestogetherasthoughpartofawell-practicedsymphony.Hairwispsstaydown.Socksstayupinsteadofbunchinginthetoesofshoes.Thekeysarewhereyouleftthem,thephonefullycharged,andthepantrywellstockedwithcoffeeor,attheveryleast,instantpacks.
Todayisnotthatday.
Ipracticethedeepbreathingmyfavoritelifestylebloginsistswillchangemylife—notthatIneedanyhelpinthatdepartment,thankskindly,I’vemanagedtopullthatoffinspadesthisweek—andstareatmyphone,whichIforgottocharge.Iwillittoreachthemagicalfiftypercentchargepointthat’sthelowestI’mcomfortablewithleavingthehouse.Fortypercent.Forty-one.
IpickupthebookI’mreadingandhesitate.I’venevernotfinishedabook,andalthoughthisoneistryingmypatience,I’malmostdone.Ishouldseeitthrough.Itmightgetbetter.Itossitinmybag.ThenItakeitout.NewGracieisn’tgoingtowastehertimeonabookshedoesn’tlike.Idon’towethebookanything.
Iputitbackin.
Forty-fourpercent.
IweightheconsequencesofanunderchargedphoneagainstbeinglateformymeetingwithFangli.Suddenlyangry,Igrabthephone.Todaythingsaregoingtochange.I’mnotgoingtobelimitedbyalistorapercentageonaphonescreen.It’samatterofhavingagrowthmindset,andfrankly,Ishouldbeembarrassedaboutaphonekeepingmefrommy
Itakethedamnbookoutagainandthumpitdownonmynighttable.
Fightingaslighttwingeofanxiety,Idecidetobuyaportablechargerandpocketthephone,grabmybag,andrunoutthedoor.Myneighborhoodistheresidentialequivalentofthegoldenmean,gentrifiedenoughthatIcanchoosebetweentwohipstercoffeeshopsfilledwithpeopletappingseriouslyondecal-coveredlaptopsbutnotsoslickthattherentisunaffordableforpeoplewithsmallkidsorprecariousjobs.
TodayIdon’tstopforcoffee.TodayIgotolivealifeofexquisiteluxuryanddeceit.
Thistime,IwalkintotheXanadulikeIbelong.That’sright,manwearinganexcellentsuitandsomuchplasticsurgeryyourcheekbonespuffintoyoureyes.Thisismyworldnow.Outofmyway,littlewomanwithhead-to-toeGucci.(Iknowitis,becauseeverygarmentislabeled.)Takeahike,incredible-lookingmanattheelevatorstaringatme.
Oh,that’sSam.IdebatepretendingIdon’tseehimbecauseitmightbelessawkwardthanmakingconversation,buthewavesmeoverwithanalmostimperceptiblegesture.WiththenewFangli-esquegaitIpracticedinfrontofthemirror,Istrideover,draggingmysuitcasebehindme,andtrynottolethimnoticemyshakingknees.
“Didyouhurtyourleg?”heasksashestabsatthenumberpanel.
“Iamwalkinglikeamoviestar.”
“You’rewalkinglikeyourshoesaretoolooseandyou’retryingtoshufflethemonyourfeetasyoumove.”
“Oh.”ThisistoopreciseacritiquetobetakenasaninsultsoIdecidetofileitunderPotentiallyUsefulandthinkaboutitlater.
“You’regoingthroughwiththis?”Hisbeautifullyaccentedvoiceislow.AccordingtohisWikipediapage,hehadaBritishtutorgrowingup.
“Obviously.”IownmydecisionthesamewayAnjaliorFangliwould.
Heblowsouthisbreath.“I’mdoingthisforFangliandIwanttobehonestwithyou.Idon’tthinkyouhavewhatittakes.Youcouldn’tmanageasinglephotographer,letalonefifty.”
Truebutnoneedtopointitout.“Iwassurprised.”
“Whenyouscrewthisup,youcancausemoredamagethanyouknow.Whyareyoudoingthis?Doyouwanttobefamousthatbad?”Eventhoughhistoneisearnest,thewordsarerudeandthat’swhatIreactto.
“She.Asked.Me.Ididn’tgohuntingherdownandbeggingtobehersecond.Youwerethere.”Idon’twanttobefamous,whichissuchaboringandjejunegoalforaself-actualizedhumanbeingthatIwouldbeashamedtoadmitit.Ineedthemoneyformymother—that’swhyI’mhere.Nottheapplause.Notbeingseen.MoneyforMom’sroom.
“Youshouldhavesaidno.”
“Youshouldhavestoppedherifitmeanssomuchtoyou.”
Hegrimaces.“Youdon’tknowFangli.”
Youdon’tknowmeeither.Iignorehimuntiltheelevatordoorsopen,thenstalkout.MysuitcaseturnsonitssideandIstruggletogetitbackuprightasSamstands,armscrossed,andwatches.Histhoughtsmightaswellbeonahugebubbleoverhishead.
Shecan’thandleit.
SamYaocangetundermyskinwithouteventrying,effortlesslypullingouteveryinsecuritybysimplybeinghimself—confident,polished.Rich.Feted.AllthethingsI’mnotnorwilleverbe.Well,fuckhim.MaybeIamaloser,butatleastI’dhelpsomeonewiththeirsuitcase.IdeciderightthentoexcludeSamfrommyusualpolicyofbeingnice.AfterIbeatthebagintosubmissionandtussleitdownto1573,MeiopensthedoorandwatchesasSamfollowsmein.
“Ms.Weiwillbebacksoon,”shesays,keepinghergazeonSam.“Shehadameetingafteryourearlyshowfinished.”
“I’llstay.”Hegoestothewindow,whichlightsuphisfeatureslikeagoddamnsculpture,makingmeangrier,andpullsouthisphone.
Meistaresafterhim,hereyesshining.Then,withasigh,sheturnstomuchmoreboringme.
“Yoursuiteisready.”
Aspromised,it’srightnextdoortoFangli’s.AgainItrytobecoolandagainIfailwhenIrushintothespacelikeI’vebeenlivinginacampingtentandwashinginaditchforthelastyear.Livingroom!King-sizebed!Bigtableandwindowslookingoverthelakeandhugemirrorsontheclosets.Myownsetofcandles.Icheckthescent;it’scalledWoodsandIdecideit’stheonlysmellIwantinmynosefortherestofmylife.Ireleasemysuitcase,whichpromptlytopplesover.Meiprodsitwithhertoe.“Yourthings?”
“Yes.”
“Theyaren’tMs.Wei’sstyle.”Interesting,sinceshehasn’tseenanythinginthesuitcase.Shewalksoverandpullsopenthe(walk-in!)closet.“Youneedtowearthese.I’llleaveyoutogetsettled.”
Thesecondsheleaves,Istepintothecloset,suitcasedraggingbehindme.Thewalk-inisbigenoughtocomfortablyholdachandelierofinterconnectedglasstubes,achaiselongue,andacabinetinthemiddle.Iwalkaroundthechaiseandwonderwhotheyexpecttoloungearoundinacloset.
WhenIturntotheclotheshanginginneattiersalongthewalls,IrealizethatpersoncouldbemebecauseIcouldspendalldayhere.ItuckmyhandsinmypocketsasIsurveymynewandverylavishdomain.Dresses—color-codedandarrangedbylength—areontheleftbesidearowofjackets.Totherightareshirts,blackshadingthroughtowhite,
Theentirebackwallisshoesandbags.
Isthat…?Iedgecloser.Itis.It’saBirkin.Infact,therearethreeBirkinslinedinaneatrowbelowwhatlookslikethequiltedleatherofseveralChanelclutches.Idon’tevenrecognizetheotherbrandsbutIassumetheyareexpensive.
ItakeaphotoandsendtoAnjali.
Showmetherestofthatcloset,shetexts.ThentaketheBirkinsandrun.
Igiveinandstarttouching,lettingmyfingersrunovertherichfabricsandluxuriousleathers.IsendtheoccasionalphototoAnjali,whoonlyreplieswithnamesandnumbers.
Balenciaga.$4k
Chanel.$2k
Givenchy.$8k
WhenI’mdone,Istandback.Alloftheclotheslookmysize,andinthatentireclosetthere’snotoneitemIwouldhavechosenformyself.Nojeans.Noflatshoes.Notasinglepairofsweatpants.AmIexpectedtoloafaroundinclotheswithnon-stretchywaistbandslikesomesortofanimal?
Theseareclothesyouweartobeseen.Ipulloutadresssoelegantlycutitlookslikeartandturntothethree-waymirrorwhileholdingitagainstmybody.Thisisnotadressyouwearwhenbinge-watchingTVandeatingpizza.Idon’teventhinkitpermitssittingpositions.ItgivesmeanotherpeekintoFangli’slifeandapremonitionofwhatIcanexpectfromthenexttwomonths.
Samappearsinthedoorwayofthecloset.“Notwastinganytime,Isee.”
“Yes.Iuprootedmylifeforadesignerdress.Whyareyouhere?”
Samspeakstomyreflectioninthemirror.“Iwanttoappealtoyourbetternature.YoucanseeFangliisdesperate.Isthatwhatyouwant,famewithoutputtinginthework?Topreyonsomeonelikeher?”
“It’shardlyfamewhenpeoplethinkI’manotherwoman.”There’saquaverinmyvoiceasthatlittlemaggotthatwantedtoseekoutthephotographerssquirms.Samhearsitandstepscloser.
“Yougotfired.”Hisvoiceislow.“Why?”
“Noneofyourbusiness.”He’sthelastpersonIwouldtellaboutTodd.
“Didyouthinkthiswasashortcut?Thatawomanasprettyasyoucouldreachhigherthanworkingataninvestmentcompany?Yousawawaytogetyourfootinthedoorandtookit?”
Ikeepmyeyesonhiminthemirror.Myshameathimreadingmesowellhasturnedtoanger,andIpullitovermelikechainmail.“Youwantmetoleave?”
Hehesitates.“Fangliwantsyoutostay.”
“Thenknockitoff,”Isaytohisreflection.“OtherwiseIgooutthatdoorandshe’sleftonherown.”
HisperfectlipsthinbutwehearFangligreetingMeiintheotherroom.
“Yourchoice,moviestar,”Isay,channelingthenewGracie.“Also,you’readickforthinkingthatworkingataregularjobisreachinglowerthanbeinganactor.”
Thetensionbetweenusrises,andIthinkhe’sgoingtocallmybluff.IdropthedressandreachoutforthehandleofmysuitcaseasFanglicomesin.“Youcame,”shesayswithrelief.
ThattoneofutterexhaustedgratitudemustbewhatchangesSam’sopinionbecauseheleansintome.“We’regettingtoknoweachother.”
Fanglilooksfromhiswarmfacetomyconfusedone.BecauseI’mnotanactor,Ihaven’tbeenabletoadjusttothenewSaminseconds.
“Letmechangeandwe’lltalk,”shesays.
Whensheleavestheroom,Sammovesawayandwefaceoffagain.“Becivil,”Isay.It’shardtonottrytokeepthepeace,evenafterafight.“Weneedtoworktogether.”
There’sanotherlongsilenceandthenSamsimplyturnsandleaves.Iwatchhimgo,wonderingifI’vewonthisround.IthinkIdidandIgetbackatinybitoftheprideToddwhittledaway.
Igobacktotheclosetbeforeathoughtstopsmedead.
DidSamYao,theSamYao,callmepretty?
***
Truetoherpromise,Fangliissoonbackinmyroom.Herfaceisscrubbedcleanandshewearsahugebathrobethatdragsbehindherlikethetrainonagown.ShecouldattendtheMetGalaasis.I’vesortedthroughtheclothesagainandnoticedtheycomeinseveralcategories:MajorEvent,VeryFancy,andRegularFancy.
“Doyoulikethem?”Shepointsatthewardrobe.
“Youmustlikeshopping.IsthatoneofthethingsI’llneedtodo?”
Shelookshonestlyshocked.“Idon’tgotostores.Theysendpeopletome.”
Westareateachother.“Howdotheyknowwhatyouwant?”Iask.
Fanglishrugs.“Theybringthecollection.Iliketopickmyowngarments.Otherwiseastylistwouldcreatemylooks.”
“Right.”
ShecomesoverandpicksupthesamedressI’dbeenholdingwhenSamcamein.“Thisismyfavorite.”
“Me,too.”Wesmileateachother.
“ClaudieatChaneldesigneditformeafterIsignedonastheirbrandambassador.It’soneofakind.”Shesoundsutterlyguileless,anddespitemyself,Iburstoutlaughing.IthinkIlikeFangli.
ShesitsdownonachairandcrossesherlegsinamannerIknowI’mgoingtohavetoreplicateandwillfinddifficult.“Ithoughtwe’dchattonight,gettoknoweachother.Iordereddinner.”
“Thanks.Umm,howwasyourday?”Ipause.“Idon’tknowmuchaboutwhatyou’redoinginTorontobesidesactinginaplay.”
“Allthingsyoushouldknow.”ShesettlesintothechairandIgroaninwardly.She’ssofuckinggraceful,goddammit.
FanglitalksforaboutanhourasImakenotesandnibbleonthesmokedsalmonsaladthatarrives.Ithasdistractinglygooddeep-friedcapers.She’shereinaplaythat’sshowingonKingStreet.OperationOblivionisaWorldWarTwohistoricaldrama,andasshetalks,Ican’tbelieveI’veneverheardthisstorybefore.ApparentlytherewasagroupofChinese-CanadianvolunteerscalledForce136recruitedfordangerousspecialmissionsinAsia
“Thiswasnotcoveredinmyhistoryclass,”Isay.Ithinkthroughthedates.“Chineseweren’tevenallowedtovoteinCanadathen.”
“Aspartoftheirtraining,theyhadtoswimwithfifty-poundpacks,”saysFangli.“VeryfewofthemknewhowtoswimbecausetheywerebannedfrommostCanadianpools.”
AlthoughForce136’srecruitmenthappenedontheothersideofthecountry,thestoryfollowsSam’scharacterashefindsoneofthefirstrecruits,whoisdyinginToronto,andfallsinlovewithFangli,whoworksinaChinatownrestaurant.
“Don’tyouusuallydomovies?”Iask.“Andshouldn’tthoserolesgotoCanadianactors?”
“Yes,theyshouldandwe’reonlyhereforpartoftherunbecauseSamisfriendswiththedirectorandhethoughtitwouldbegoodpublicity.WebothstartedintheaterbackinChina.”Sherecrossesherlegs.“Ilovebeingonthestage,soitwasanicebreak.Beinginfrontofanaudienceisadifferentexperience.”
“Icanseethat.”
“Doyouact?”
“Ididinschool.”Ishrug.“Itwasonlyforfun.”
“Youenjoyedit?”
“Lovedit.”
Hersmilelightsupherface.“ThenyouunderstandwhyI’mhere.Howisyourpracticecomingalong?”
Itakeadeepbreath.“Takealook.”
Grabbingapairofheelsoutofthecloset,IpopthemonandtakeafewstepsbeforeIstop,smile,andwave.Fangli’seyesopenwide.
“Doitagain.”It’sSam,fromthedoor.Idoitagain,alittlemoreself-consciousnowthathe’shere.Alotmore.
“Itlooksstrange.”Hefrowns.“Notlikeitneedspracticebutwrong.”
“Ipracticedinfrontofthemirror.”
Hiseyesnarrow.“Practicedhow,exactly?”
Thisisembarrassing.“Ah.Youknow.Likepractice.”
Hefoldshisarmsandwaitsformetoanswer.
Itrytowaithimoutandfail.Hecanstandlikethatforhours,Ibet,stubbornlyrefusingtogivein.Fangliwatcheswiththoseleaf-likeeyebrowsdelicatelyraised.
Iadmitdefeat.“IproppedthetabletnearthemirrorandcopiedwhatIsaw.”
“You’reahumanuncannyvalley.”HeandFanglisharealook.“Unbelievable.”
Uncannyvalley?“What?I’mnotanandroid.”
Hesighs,grabsthetablet,andleadsmetothemirror.“Watch.”Hetapsforasecond,findsavideoofFanglismilingandwaving,andthenplaysit.
“I’veseenthis.”I’minsulted.Ididmyhomework.
“You’renotwatching.”Hisvoiceistheperfectdegreeofsmokydeep.Samlooksinthemirrorandoureyesmeetintheglass.ThenIshiftmygazetohisrighthand,whichwavesthesameasFanglidoesinthevideo.
“Veryelegant,”Isay,tryingtoregainmyself.
“LiketheQueen,”Fangliinterjects.Shedoesthewaveinperson.
“Excepttotallywrong.”Heturns.“Fangli’sright-handedandthat’showshewaves.You’relookinginthemirrorandcopyingit,butthatmeansyou’vebeenwavingyourlefthand.Everythingisbackwardbecauseherwavewasfilmed.”
Istareatmyhand,astounded.“Areyouputtingmeon?That’swhyitfeltsoweird?”
“Yes.”HegivesFanglianeloquentlookthatIreadassayingwhatanidiotIam.
“Shit.”Ideflate.AllthatworkandIdiditbackward.Iburymyheadinmyhands.
“Afixableproblem,”declaresFangli.“YouandMeicanworkonitinthemorning.”
SheleavesandSamhesitates.Thenheshakeshishead.“Right-handed,”hesays.
HecallsoutafterFangliandIwishIknewwhattheyweresaying.
Wow,iftherewasonlysomewaytolearnMandarin,maybewithahandhelddevicethat’sconvenientlyattachedtomyhandforabouteighteenhoursadayandcanprovideaccesstoathinglikelanguagelessonsgivenatmyownspeedfor$2.99orless.
Iwhipoutmyphone.
Insixminutes,aScottishgentandaladyfromBeijingcheerilyworkmethroughhowtosaywhereI’mfrominperfectMandarin.Ifreezeastheyshiftintotellingmehowtoaskwhereothersarefromandpausetheapp.IcouldhavedonethisyearsagowhenMomstartedgettingbad.Icouldhavebeenspeakingtoherallthistime.Iputthatthoughtaside.IdidthebestIcould.
ThenI’maloneinmyluxuryroomwavinginthemirroratmyselfandpracticingmynewlanguageskillsbytellingmyreflectionI’maCanadianinpoorlyaccentedMandarin.
Goodtimes.Nine
I’mstrollingintoaRodeoDriveboutiquewearingahugeblackhatandshoulderpadsbigenoughtoblocktrafficwhenthebrightsummersunpiercesthroughmyclosedeyelids.Burrowinginthesoft,fluffybed,Itrytogobacktosleepbutcan’tbecauseMeiisstandingbythefootofmybedbarkingmyname.
“It’stimetogetup.”
Ithrowthecoversoffandsquintoutthewindow.Thesun’supbutitfeelssuspiciouslyearly.“Whattimeisit?”
“Seven.”
Igroan.“Onemorehour.”Iwasuplate,alternatingbetweendecidingwhichclothesmatchedbestwiththemultipleLouisVuittonbagsandlearninghowtoaskpeopletheirnamesinChinese.
“Ms.Weiisanearlyriser.She’salreadyatameeting.”MeimightnotmeantosoundsmuglyvirtuousonFangli’sbehalf,butthat’swhatIhear.
Ihaulmyselfupandshuffleofftobrushmyteeth.WhenIgetback,IexaminetheoutfitMeihaslaidonthebed.“Arewegoingout?”
“No.”
Yetshe’schosenpantswithironedcreases.“Can’tIwearyogapantssinceit’sonlyus?”
“No.”
SheleavesandIrealizemyclothesfromhomearegone.That’salaterproblem,though,soIpullontheoutfit.Thewhitelinenpantswrinkleoncontactwithmyskin,andIimmediatelystaintheblacksilktopwithdeodorantandhavetochange.InthemirrorIpracticemyFangliwaveagain,thistimewiththecorrecthand.Theshoesareadorablesling-backsthatIputontocheckthefulleffect.
Huh.Iturnaround.Ihadn’trealizedthedifferenceexpensivetailoringmadebecauseInowhaveoutstandingposture.DoIlooklikeFangli?ThespaciousclosetmakesfindingwhatIneedsomucheasierthantryingtosortthroughabunchofshirtscrammedtightenoughtowrinkle,andIquicklylocateahigh-neckedblackshirt.Ipullitonlikeaheadband,thecollarframingmyfaceandtherestofthematerialflowingdownmyback,andtossmyhead.It’snottheperfectfacsimileoflonghairbutIgettheidea,albeitwithanunnishfeel.
“Icametoseeifyouweredressed.”Mei,whoapparentlyhasnoconceptofprivacy,isatthedoor,staringatmyturtleneckwig.Isnatchitoffandrunahandthroughmyhair.
“Uh,yeah.Thanks.”
Shebacksoutoftheroom,andItosstheshirtonthebedandfollow.
Fueledbycoffeeandfearoffailure,I’mtheidealFanglistudentthatday.Apparentlyshedoesherownmakeupexceptforbigevents,soMeishowsmetheFangliStandardFace,whichnecessitatesaraftofexpensiveproductstoachievethecorrectsmoothskinandprettysmokyeye.Meipicksupthelipstick,avibrantredthatglidesonlikeadream,thengoesovertheedgeswithalippencilbeforeblottingandpaintingmeagain.
Istareinthemirroratmylips.It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’vehadthatmuchcolor,andI’dforgottenhowbrightitis.Itmakesmymouththeglossyfocusofmyface.NowonderToddlikedit.Ishiver.
“IsthisFangli’susualcolor?”Iask.
“ChanelRougeAllureinPirate,”saysMei.“It’sallshewearsinpublic.”
IstaysilentasMeiscrutinizesmyfacefromtheside.Themakeupispartofadisguise.It’sFangli’sfacebeingcreatedinthemirror,andwhenpeopleseeit,theywon’tseeme.Irelaxslightly.
“Sundamage.”Meiclucksandmakesanoteonherphone,disruptingmychainofthought.Ifocusonwhatwe’redoing.“I’llgetbetterconcealer.”Shetakesacloserlook.“Andawaxingkit.”Thenshereachesoveranddragsoutamannequinhead.“Here.”
Ontheheadisawig.Ihaven’twornonesinceHalloween,andthatwasablueflapperbob.Ipokeit.“Isthisrealhair?”
SheslapsitonmyheadlikeahatanditistheLamborghiniofhairaccessories.It’sdefinitelyallreal,andprobablythekindtoreceiveregularconditioning.Thehairswingsasifit’smyown,farbetterthanmyturtleneckstand-in,andwhenIshakemyhead,itdoesn’tbudge.It’sbeensolongsinceIhadlonghairthatIforgothowfunitwas;IwhipmyheadaroundlikeI’mabouttostarinShowgirlsuntilIgetalittledizzy.IneedtotakeaphotoofthisforMombecauseshe’llloveit.
ThistimewhenIgotothemirror,MeistandsbesidemewithacriticaleyebeforepullingoutherphonetoshowaphotoofFangliinasimilaroutfit.Iarrangemyposelikehers—onefootoutandslightlytwistedinamovemymomalsotaughtmeasateenager—andturnmyfaceslightlyupandtotheleftwiththatlittlesmile,thenscrupulouslychecktheposeandlowermyshouldersafraction.Meitakesaphotoandwhenwelookatit,Ithinkmaybethiswillwork.
“Terrible.”Meitapsonherphone.
“What?”Deflated,Imovemylegsbacktomyusualslightlyhunchedstanceandpulloffthewig.It’shot.
There’saknockonthedoorandMeiopensittorevealSam.Theywhispertogether,lookingatme,andItrytodecideifmybettercourseofactionistopretendIdon’tknowtheyareveryobviouslytalkingaboutmeortobreakintotheirconversation.
Takethebullbythehorns.
“Hey.I’mrighthere.”
Samdoesn’tlookatme.“Weknow.”HegivesMeianinstructionthatcauseshertodisappearoutthesidedoortoFangli’ssuite,leavingthetwoofusalone.Samwalksbytostandnearthewindow,andwhenheturnstoregardme,Iswearthelightshiftstopoolaroundhim.I’vealwayswonderedaboutcharisma,ifitreallyexists,andwithSamIcanfeelanexcessofenergythatsimplymakeshimmoreattractive.Fanglihasit,too,avitalitythatdrawsattentionnomatterwhatshe’sdoing.
IhopetoGodthat’ssomethingthatcanbelearned,becauseIsureashelldon’thaveit.
Beyondthat,Ican’tdecidewhatbothersmeaboutSam.I’veseenhimoftenenoughinmediathathe’sfamiliar,butwhenhestandshereinperson,it’sawholenewballgame.
“Youlookdifferentfromyourmovies,”Isayfinally.He’ssharper,icierthanheisinthephotos.Moreunreallookingandfarmorestriking.
“Iknow,”hesaysdismissively.“Meisaysyou’rehopeless.”
Iobjecttothis.“‘Hopeless’isalittlestrong.”
“Youarenojudge.Walkforme.”
“Why?”Istandmyground.
Whenheturns,thesunlightsonepartofhisfaceandshadowstherestlikeaperfumead.Igroan.“Doyoudothatonpurpose?Poseinthelight?”Imimichisstance.
“OfcourseIdo.”Hepullshischinupslightlyandthat’sit.Iburstoutlaughing.He’ssoperfectlyarrogantthatIbegintoseehimmoreasacomediccharacterthanaman.Hebringshisbrowstogether.“Somethingfunny?”
“Notatall.”
“Really.Becauseyou’relaughing.”
“Well,you,”Iadmit.“You’refunny.Whodoesthat?”
Theknitbrowsarejoinedbypursedlips.“Isthereaprobleminputtingyourbestselfforward?”
“Iguessnot.”Iclearmythroattochangethesubject.“Areyouhonestlyheretowatchmewalk?”
Samcomesoverfromthewindowandstandsinfrontofme.I’dsayhewastryingtointimidatemebecauseofhowhelooksdownhisnose,butitremindsmeofoneofhisroles—hewasalowlydeliveryguywhoalsofoughtcrime—andIcanfeelmylipstwitch.HeglaresatmeasifheknowswhatI’mthinking.“Fanglirefusestoletgoofthis,”hesays.Helooksovermyshoulderandchooseshiswords.“IsaidIwouldhelp.”
“Ifyou’relookingforideas,youcanhelpbynotbeinganasshole,”Isuggest.
“Icanhelpbymakingsureyoudon’ttarnishFangli’sreputationwithyourignorance.”Heleansforward.“Idon’tlikeitbutI’lldowhatIcantomitigatetherisktoher,evenifitmeansworkingwithyou.”
“Arealprofessional.”
“IworkwithmanypeopleIdon’trespect.Orlike.”
“Me,too.”WeeyeeachotherandIpullback.I’dheldoutenoughofanolivebranch.Nowitwasbusinesstime.“Thenlet’sdothis.”
“Walkaroundagain.”Hesprawlsinachairandtakesupmorespacethanhehasarightto.
“Givemeasecond.”Ireplayoneoftheclipsonmytablet.Onthescreen,Fangli,dressedinawhitesatinpantsuit,strollsbylikeshe’swalkingtherunway.Ican’tdoitlikethat.Ithrowbackmyshouldersanddecidetosimplygo.Sam’seyesfollowmeasIwalkacrosstheroom,which,hilariously,islongenoughthatIcanreallygetsomestepsin.
WhenIcomebacktothecenter,helooksthoughtful,asifI’mapuzzletobesolvedratherthananinsecttosquish.Thisisadecidedimprovement.“Thatwaslessghastlythanlastnight,”hecomplimentsme.“YouhaveasimilarwalktoFangli.”
“No,wedon’t.”ThisI’msureabout
Samsighsandtakesouthisphone,whichhetapsandshovesundermynose.Itshowsadark-hairedwomanwalkingawaythroughalobby,herbodylanguageconfidentandnatural.
“Thisiswhatyouwantmetowalklike,Iknow.I’mtrying.”
“Unbelievable,”hesays.“That’syou.LikeIsaid.Whenyou’rebeingyourself.”
Iwatchitagainandrealizeit’smewalkingoutofthehoteltheotherday.Ididn’tknowIlookedlikethat.“Whydoyouhavethis?”
“ItookitwhenyoulefttoprovetoFangliwhatahopelessideathiswas.”Helooksbackatthescreen.“YoumovedbetterthanIthoughtyouwould,”hesaysgrudgingly.
“Thatisadeeplycreepythingtodo.”I’malittleawedathisdedication
“Iknow.”Hesaysitwithoutshame.
Iflopdownonthechairnexttohimandhewinces.IguessFangliisn’tafloppereither.“TheproblemiswhenIknowI’mbeingwatched,Iforgethowtomove.Myhandsaretoobigandflappy.”
Sammotionsformetogetup.“It’sbecauseyouconsideryourbodyaflaccidthingyouinhabitinsteadofatooltobetrained.WhenFangliwalksdownthestreet,it’sthesameasifshe’swalkingaredcarpetoronset.Beconsciousofyourbody,likeadancer.Everymusclehasajob.Everygesturehasapurpose.”
Idon’tlikeSamtalkingaboutbodies,butIpowerthrough.“How?”
“Ican’tdescribeitbetterthanthat.Eachmovementisadecision.Youdon’tsimplywalk.Youdecideeverystep,everytiltofyourhead.Youthinkofhowyouwanttolookandyoumakethathappen.Yourawarenesshastobeexternal—whatarepeopleseeing?Whatdoyouwantthemtosee?”
Ilookthoughtfullyinthemirror.Ioverthinkthingsongooddays,sothisadvicecouldwellblastmerightoutoforbit.ThinkaboutthingsmorethanIdo?
“Goagain.”
Ido.
“Thatwasworsethanbefore.”Herubsthebackofhishandagainsthisforehead.“Howcanawomannotwalk?”
“I’mnotusedtoanaudience.”
“There’salwaysanaudience,”hesaysdismissively.“You’vehadtheprivilegeofbeingabletoignoreit.”
“What’sthatmean?”
“Youcanwalkdownthestreetandbeseenbutnotnoticed.”
Great,nowIhaveSamYaostressingmyinvisibilityasaperson—exactlywhateverywomanwantstohear.
Hekeepstalking.“Fromthemomentsheleavesherroom,everyactionFanglitakescanberecordedandsharedglobally.Herpublicselfisarolesheplaysthesameasinafilm.Outsidethesewalls,WeiFangliisacharacter.Shehastothinkabouthowshelooksallthetimebecauseasingleunguardedmomentcanbringinternationalpublichumiliationandridicule.”
Theunspokenthreatisthere—asFangli,thatlarge-scalemortificationcanbeallmineifIbunglethis.Igritmyteethandtryagain.Again.
Bythesixthtime,Igrasptheedgesofwhathe’stellingme.It’sasenseofbeingconsciousofmyenvironmentandhowIinhabitit.Irecallabehind-the-scenessegmentofanactorabouttowalktheredcarpet.She’stoldexactlywherethemarksareandshownphotosofthescene.Standingnearthewall,IsurveytheroomasSamscrollsthroughhisphone,aslightfrownonhisfaceandhisattentionoffme.ThistimeIdon’tseeitasawaytogetfrompointAtoB.IthinkofwhereIwanttobewithinit.Theroomismysetting,notsimplyemptyspacewithafewbitsoffurnitureactingasobstacles.
“That’snotsobad.”Samlooksupfromhisphonetowatchme,andIstumbleslightlyasImeethiseyes.Heshakeshisheadandgoesbacktohisphone.
Samisacharacter.Fangliisacharacter.Ineedtobeoneaswell.I’mnotGraciedoinglapsofthehotelroom.IneedtobeFangli.
Inhabitinganewpersonaisliberating,andSamtiltshisheadwhenIwalkbyagain.“Better.”
BythetimeSamindicatesIhavepassedModule1:TheArtofWalking,Ihaveblistersfromtheadorablesling-backs.“Goodenough,”hecongratulatesme.Hechecksthetime.“Keeppracticing.Ineedtogettothetheater.”
Icollapseonthebedtoseeatext.
Youalive?It’sAnjali.
Notfishbaityet,Itextback.
Proveit’syou.
Isendheraphotoofmeloungingonmyclosetchairwearingapairofembroideredheelstoohighformetowalkin.Idon’tknowthebrand—thenameisinJapanese—butIassumethey’repricey
Iacceptthatwithrespect.HottyHottermantreatingyouok?
Nottoobad.TodaywithSamcouldhavebeenworse.Hewasn’tactivelymean.
When’syourfirstevent?
Fewdaysfromnow.Ihavetime.
WetextcasuallybackandforthasItryonmoreoftheclothesandtrytodecidewhatfeelseasiesttowear.IsendshotstoAnjali,whohasabadhabitoflikingthemostuncomfortableoutfitsbest.
Beautyispain,shewrites.Fangliisafashionicon.She’snotschleppingtothestoreinpj’s.
Sheprobablyhaspeopletodothatforheranyway.MeihadtoldmeFangliwillgostraighttohersuiteaftertheshow,soaftersomemorestrollingaroundtheroom,Ieatandgotobed,legsandfeetachingandfaceslatheredwitharetinolserumFangli’sdermatologisthasapparentlyrecommendedfordirecases.
That’stheendofmyfirstday.Ilearnedtowalk.Ten
“Whyareyouhere?”Idemand.Samissittinginmysuite’slivingareawhenIcomeoutofthebedroom,dressswingingaroundmylegsasIhalt.Iforgottoshavethemandprayhedoesn’tlookdown.Mr.PhysicalPerfectiondoesn’tneedtoseethatstubble.
Hedoesn’tputdownhisphoneashesipshiscoffee.“IhavesometimesoI’mheretorunyourbootcamp.”
Igrabacoffeeformyself,yawning.ItwasanothernightoffitfulsleepasIranthroughmymanyanxieties.Myoldtherapistusedtotrytogetmetohavesomeperspectiveonmyproblems.ThatworkedwellenoughwhenallIhadtounderstandwasthattheworldwouldnotendifIreturnedaphonecallTuesdayinsteadofMonday.MycopingtechniquesaremarkedlylesseffectivewhenfacingasituationwherepublicdisgraceatagloballevelisarealpossibilityifIscrewup.
“Where’sFangli?”Iask.
“Resting.”
Althoughitwouldbenicetoseeher,theentirereasonI’mhereissoshecangetabreak.“What’sontaptoday?”
“Conversation.”Fromtheflattone,Icantellhe’sasthrilledasIamtospendthenextseveralhoursmakingsmalltalk.
Itrytorally.“Shouldwestartwithanicebreaker?”
Hedoesn’tchangeexpression.
“Icebreakeritis.”Itrytosmile.He’smakingithardformetodowhatFanglihiredmetodo.
“Noicebreakers.”
“Childhoodmemories?”
“No.”
“Bestvacations?Favoritefood?Twotruthsandalie?”
I’monthereceivingendofaneyerollthatwouldputasulkyteenagertoshameandbitemylipstogethertokeepfromlaughing.
“What?”hedemands.
“Nothing.”Iwalkovertothetable.“Tellmewhatyoucomeupwith,then.”
Wesit.Sam’shereunderduressbutit’snotmyjobtomakethisgosmoothly.Iblink.That’snotsomethingIusuallythink.Sambringsouttheworstinme.
Ormaybethebest.Thisisn’tmyusualreaction,whichwouldbetofussandworryandfilltheemptysilencewithwhatevercameintomyhead.
Topassthetime,Itakeoutmyphoneandcheckthenews,whichisbad.AnemailfromGarnetBrothersgivesmesuchapunchmywholebodyjerkswithsuddencoldness.IforwarditstraighttoFredtheLawyer.
“Whathappened?”Sam’sattentionisonme.
“Nothing.Why?”Iavoidhiseyes.
Hefrowns.“Youwerelookingatyourphoneandyelpedlikeasmalldog.It’sobviousyouhadamessageyoudidn’tlike.”
“Thisiswhatpassesforconversationwithyou?”Iask.Idon’twanttotalkabouttheemail,letalonewithSam.
“Itcan.”Hesmiles,theslow,predatorygrinIrememberfrombinge-watchinghismovies.It’sintriguingtoseeitinreallife.“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
“Idon’tthinkIdo,”Isay.“That’sthefaceyougetwhenyou’reabouttofucksomeoneover.”
“It’swhat?”Thesmiledisappears.“Fanglidoesn’tswear.”
“Again,I’mnotactuallyFangli.Yourexpression.It’sthe‘youunderestimatedmeandnowI’mgoingtowreaksomehavoc’look.Fromyourmovies.YoudiditbeforefightingtheTriadguyinDragonClaw,andyoudiditwhenyouwereconfrontingthemanwhobetrayedyouinGlassHouse.Oh,andyoudiditabunchoftimesinAlleyBoomDown.Itwasalmostatic.”
Whenhiseyeswiden,Iseethey’reverydarkbrownandnottheblackIthought.“Howmanyofmymovieshaveyouwatched?”
“Mostofthem.”ImakeafacebecauseMeimadeitclearskimmingthewebforplotsummarieswasn’tanoptionandtheman’sbeenbusy.“Whyisthisaproblem?Don’tyoumakethemtobewatched?”
Samangleshisheaduptotheceiling,lostinthought.Then,Godhelpme,herunshisthumbacrosshislowerlip.Inthehierarchyofunconsciouslysizzlingthingshotmendo,thathastobetops.Theincompletelist,ascompiledbymeonbehalfofallpeoplewhofindmenattractive,is:
1.Thumbonlowerlip(mentioned).
2.Lookupfrombeneatheyelashes;onlyforsomemen.
3.Holdakitten.Bonuspointsiffaceisburiedinfurandhesmiles/addressesthekittendirectlyasifthekittencares.Puppieswilldo.
4.Thatsidewaysglanceovertheshoulder.
5.Loosentie.
6.Runhandthroughhair.
7.Lookinyoureyesashetakeshisthumboffhislipandaskswhatyou’restaringat.
“What?”Ishakeoutofmymusingstate.
Samtiltshisheadslightly.Iaddthatasnumbereighttothelist.“Iaskedwhatyou’restaringat,”herepeats.
MeicomesintotheroombeforeIhavetoanswerbutmyMandarinlanguageapphasonlygottenmetolettingpeopleknowI’mfeelinghappytodaysoIhavenohopeoffollowingtheirconversation.Ichecktherestofmyin-boxastheytalk.It’sbeenacoupleofdayssinceI’veseenMom,butIemailhereverydayandthenursingstafftellmetheyprintoutthemessages.Occasionallyoneofthenicernursesoravolunteersendsmeanupdate.IgetantsyifIdon’tseeheratleastonceaweekinpersonbutIhaveacouplemoredaysbeforethatbecomesaproblem.
Iputthephoneaway,droppingmyheadtothesidetotrytorolloutthefainttightnessofatensionheadacheinchingupmyneck.IfthisishowIfeelafteronlytwodayslivingasapseudocelebrity,Ican’timaginethelevelofstressthatisFangli’severydayexperience.
“Hao.”SamendstheconversationandMeiglidesoutthedoorinthecrispwhiteshirtandblackskirtI’vestartedtothinkofasheruniform.
“What?”Istretchandheshutshiseyesasifphysicallypainedwhenmyshoulderspop.Idoitagain.
“Changeofplans,”hesays,inthesametoneasageneralreadyinghimselfforanunplannedbattle.“Weneedtogoouttonight.”
“Whoa,what?”I’mnotpreparedforthis.
NeitherisSam,bythelooksofit.“Aftertheshow,wehaveadinnerreservation.”
“Why?”
Hespinshisphoneover.There’saphotoofFanglilookingtiredwithChineseonthebottom.
“Canyoutranslate?”Iask.
“There’sspeculationoverFangli’sstateofhealth.Hermanagementdoesn’tlikeit.”Hetakesthephoneback.“Fanglihasanimagetoprotect.”
There’snowayIcanbloweatingfood.I’vebeendoingitforyears.Icheerupabit.“Wherearewegoing?”
“It’scalledAla.”
Iimmediatelystartgoogling.“Fancy.”
“It’sanappropriateplaceforustobeseen.”
Outofcuriosity,Iclickontheironlinereservationsystemandseethenextavailabletableistwomonthsawayandatfiveintheevening.“Howdoyouplantogetatable?”
Samgivesmeanunfathomablelook.“Icanalwaysgetatable.”
Iletthatpass.There’snomenuontheirwebsitebecausethechefonlyusesthefreshestingredientsfromthemorningmarkets.PlatedwithexquisitedetailenthusesaYelpreviewer.
Sam’sphonedingsandhepicksitup.“I’vegottodealwiththisanddon’thavetimetoeatlunch.Iexpectyoutobereadyforninethirty.”
Hedisappearsrightasroomservicearrives.Oncehe’sgone,IpagethroughmyFanglinotesasIwolfdownthepastaandthenpopaTylenol.Atthetopofmyto-dolistisoneoverwhelmingtask:PretendtobeWeiFangli.
That’sabigactionitem.Butifthere’sonethingmythoroughexaminationofproductivityplanshastaughtme,it’stobreakbigtasksintosmalleractions.Humminghappilytomyself,Icheckforanynewappsthatmightmeetmyneeds.I’mmultitasking,asthisisgoodresearchforEppyaswell.IdecidedlastnightEppy—secretacronymforEasyPlanningPerYear—wouldbethenameofmytaskplanner.
“Wokele.Iamthirsty.”Iabsentmindedlyrepeatthelanguagelessonthathasbecomethebackgroundmusicofmylife.Hopefullyitwillsubliminallyentermybrain.There’snothingnewtotryoutintheworldofproductivityplanningsoIgrabapenandsomepaper.
“Wochimifan.Ieatrice.”DoIneedtofindfootageofFanglieating?Iponderthisforaminutebeforediscardingitasunnecessary.
“Woheshui.Idrinkwater.”Anoutfit.Won’tbeaproblem,IcanwearthedressIhaveon.Itapthepenagainstmyteethandwrite“shavelegs.”
IaddafewmoretasksbutthenrememberthatoutsideofbeingFangli,IneedtocheckthewaitlistatXinGuang,callthelawyeraboutGarnetBrothers,andpaymyrent.Iaddthemandmakeafacefornotthinkingofmyownlifeearlier.
Finally,IcheckmybankaccounttoseeifthepaymenttoMom’shomewentthrough.
ThenIlookagainbecauseIamalotofzerosricherthanIwasyesterday.It’sFangli’sfirstpayment.Mysituationissuddenlymorerealthanithadbeensixminutesago.Moneyhasofficiallychangedhands,whichmeansInowoweher.MyheadisachingtoomuchtothinkaboutitsoIshutdowntheappandsuckindeepbreaths.
Takingmynotepadandphoneintothebedroom,Itossthemontotherumpledduvetandclimbupbesidethem.(Meihastoldhousekeepingwe’llcallifweneedanyonetocomemakeuptheroomorbringfreshtowelsinordertoheadoffanyinadvertentmisstepsbyyourstruly,soI’minchargeofmakingmyownbed.)MyeyesdroopandIsetmyalarmforanhour.AquicknapandI’llbeasgoodasnew.
***
IwakeslowlyandburymyfacebackintothefluffypuffballofapillowtheXanaduhasdecidedisthemostappropriatelyextravagantofsleepingoptions.Afewmoreminutes,Ipromisemyself,eventhoughI’mmorerestedthanI’vebeenindays.Iyawnandstretch,thinkinghowcalmtheroomfeelsinthedusk.Relaxing.
Dusk?
Ifumbleformyphone.It’salmostnineandSam’scominginthirtyminutesfordinner.
“No.Damn,no.”Fullyawake,Ileapoutofbed,gettangledinthebedsheets,andfalloverinacloudywhitelumpbeforeIstumbletothebathroom,trailingthesheetsbehindmelikethemostinelegantofweddingdresses.It’stoolatefortherefreshingshowerIhadplanned,soIsplashwateronmyfaceanddomybesttobrushmyhairandteethatthesametime.Theface.IgroanasImentallyreviewthemultistepFangliFaceprocess.Iscrewuptheeyelinertwiceandthenpokemyselfintheeyewiththemascarawand.Thisisnotagoodstart.
Atleastthelipstickgoesonwithoutaproblem,andIsuckonmyfingertomakesureIdon’tgetanyonmyteeth,atipfromMombackwhenIfirststartedwearinglipstick.ItworkedformyfirstneutralcoralsandevenbetteronceIworkeduptomyrubyreds.
SinceIsleptinthedressIwasgoingtowear—andinmybra,whichIpeeloffforthereliefofunstickingitandwipingmyunderboobwithatowel—Ineedtofindanewoutfit.
“Areyouready?”Sam’simpatientvoicecomesfromthelivingroom.He’searly.
“Don’tlook.I’mgettingdressed.Howdidyougetinhere?”IyellbackasIyankanotherdressout.Thisone’sblack,sothere’snowayitcan’tbestylish,atleastnotinToronto.“Doyouhaveakeycard?”
“Yes.”
Idon’tlikethat.I’llgetitbackoverdinner.Dresszipped,IstuffmyfeetintothelowestheelsIcanfindandlaunchmyselfthroughthebedroomdoorbeforeSamcomestopullmeout.
ThenIfreeze.He’sallinblackaswell,withacollaredshirttuckedintotailoredblackslacksandablackblazer.Onehandisplacedcasuallyinhispocketandhishairisartfullytumbled.Myeyeswideninappreciation.
Thisappreciationisnotreciprocatedwhenhelooksmeupanddown.“Youcan’tbeserious.”
“What?”Icheckthemirror.OneeyeispinkfromwhereIintroducedthemascarawand,andIguessIsneezedbecauseblackdappledlinesdecoratetheskinunderbotheyes.IhavemarksfromwhereIwassleepingonmycheek,andwhenIsmile,IseeMom’striedandtestedlipsticktrickhasnotworkedbecauseIlooklikeapostprandialvampire.Also,Iforgotthewig.
“Right.”IlickmyteethtogetridoftheredlipstickasIrubundermyeyesanddashbackintotheroomtoadjustmyfoundationtocoverthesleepcreases.IpulloutthewigandarrangeitonmyheadbeforeIcomebackoutwithalittlemoreFangliattitude.
ThistimeSamgivesmealong,appraisinglook.IsmileFangli’ssmileandhenodsreluctantly.“Iguessit’lldo,”hesays.“Perfume.SheonlywearsChanelbecauseshe’stheirbrandambassador.”
“Good.IlikeNo.19Poudre.”Idon’twearitallthetime,though.Ineverlikedtheideaofasignaturefragrance,notwhentherearesomanyoptions.
“What?”He’sstartledIwouldknowanactualperfume.“Meisaysthefragrancecollectionisinthedrawerunderthemirror.”
Fragrancecollection?HowdidImissthat?Igobackinandgaspwithdelightatthelinesofbottles.It’slikebeingintheChanelstore.“ShehasLesExclusifs!”
“Leswhat?”Hecomesinandleansagainstthedoorlikeablack-claddemonasIrummagethroughthelong,rectangularbottleslabeledwiththatinimitablesquareChanelfont.Thereitis,BoisdesIles,whichIboughtonceandcouldn’tjustifytheexpensetobuyagain.Isprayitandstartcoughingfromthedropletsintheair.Ibreathedtoosoon.Samlookstiredashewatchesmechoke.
“It’saspecialcollectionoffragrances.”Idon’tknowmuchaboutclothesbutperfumehasalwaysbeenmything.Ihaveoverthreehundredsamplesloggedonaspreadsheetwithmyratings.Pathetic,Iknow,butscentisthesensethatI’vealwaysreactedtomostintensely.Evenasakid,Iwouldhaveafitifmyparentschangedtheirlaundrydetergent.Samsmellsgood,afaintfreshspicemixedwiththefragranceofchippedstone.Soundsweird,butit’sappealing.
“Youlikethat?”HesniffstheairwithmorecautionthanIdid.“Ismellsandalwood.”
“You’reright.”Irecapthebottle.ItgivesalittlemagneticclickintheverysatisfyingChanelway.“Sandalwoodismymother’sfavoriteperfume.”
“Mymother’saswell,”hesays,asifshockedwecouldhaveanythingincommon.“Canwegonow?”
Wewalktotheelevator,andIhavethepleasureofasteadystreamofadviceandcriticismbatteringmyear.“Shouldersback,”Samsays.
Ipushbackmyshoulders.
“Notthatfarback.Smilemore.”
ForwardcometheshouldersasIsmileandhissathimthroughclenchedteeth.“Canyoulayoff?It’sanemptycorridor.”
“Withsecuritycamerasthatrecordsellablevideo,housecleaningstaffandpeoplebehindthosepeepholes.”Heeyesmewithpretendfondness.“Youarenevernotwatched.”
TheelevatoropensasIconsiderthis.It’slikeheandFangliliveinasurveillancestategoneamok.Wedon’ttalkintheelevator,andwhenwegetout,hesteersmeawayfromthemaindoor.
“We’renotwalking?”Therestaurant’sonlyabouttwentyminutesawayandthesummereveningisperfectforstrolling.
“Toopublic.”
Iguessit’sagoodcallbecauseeventhelowheelsIchosehurtmyfeet.I’vebeenfocusingsohardonmywalkingthatIdon’tnoticethepeopleinthelobbyuntilwe’rehalfwaythrough.EvenintheXanadu,temporaryhomeoftherichandfamous,Samcausesarippleofinterest.EyesmovetomeandIrealizeit’snotonlySam,it’sSamandmetogether.Abriefsilencefallsoverthelobbyaswewalkthrough,andIstumbleslightlywiththeweightoftheirattention.SamsnapshisarmoutandgathersmecloseinasinglemovethatIknowlookssexilyprotective,likethefaithfulbodyguardheplayedinoneofhismovies.
IthinkIhearawomanmoan.
Gatheringmywits,Ifluttermyeyelashesathim.IswearhismouthtwitchesbutImustbewrongbecausehesteadiesmeandthentucksmyhandunderhisarm
“Walk,”hemutters.
Imakeittothecar,whichisnotacarbutanSUVthatshouldhavelittleflagsflutteringonthefrontmotorcade-style.Samhelpsmein,whichhastheadvantageofpreventingpeoplefromseeingmesprawlsidewayswhenIcatchmyfoot.
Heclimbsinaftermeandcloseshiseyes.
“Thatwasn’tsobad,”Icongratulatemyself.
Samopensoneeye.“Ihatetoseeyourversionofbad.”
“Wemadeit.”IfeelconfidentasIfixupmywig.ThenIstraightenup.“Isitlikethatwhereveryougo?”
“What?”
“Peoplelooking.”
“Itoldyouitwas.”Hedoesn’tsoundimpatient,onlyresigned.
Ithinkaboutit.Itwasexhilarating,butIdon’twanttotellSamthis.ThelittleworminmybrainexpandsslightlyasIrealizeIlikedit.Ilikedbeingseen.Beingadmired.
Itwasn’tyou.ThatwasforFangli.NoonewouldhaveturnedforGracie,notevenaGraciewithadesignerdressandlonghair.
Goodtoremember.Eleven
Whenwearriveattherestaurant,it’shardtonotbeseduced.IsmoothoutthefrontofmydressasIgetoutofthecartothestaresofpassersby.Theymightnotrecognizeus,butthesleekcarandthemanagerwhorushesouttomeetuswhenthevaletopensthedoorarevisualsignifiersthatherebepeoplewithmoneyandinfluence.
HowwouldFangliact?She’susedtofancyplaces,soshewouldresisttrailingherfingersalongthesideofthestaircasetoseeifthatwasrealvelvetcoveringthewalls.Whenshereachedthetopofthestairs,shewouldchecktheroomcasuallyforacquaintancesandwouldn’tsqueakwithgleewhenspottingMargaretAtwood.
SoIdon’tdothosethingseither.Instead,IkeepmyexpressionschooledandfocusonSam’sshouldersasthemanagerleadsustoabacktable,themostprivateoptiontheroomoffers.Asilencewashesovertherestaurant,followedbyahumaspeoplerecognizeus.Thisisafancyplaceanditspatronsaretoocooltodoanythingsogaucheastakephotosorcomeuptoussothebuzzisallweget.
IwonderifMargaretAtwoodgotthesameattention.
ThemanagerdeftlyslidesthechairforwardasIsitdownandIgivemyselfasilenthighfiveforsmilinginthanks,asawomanusedtothiswould,insteadoferuptingintoaflurryof“it’sokay”and“Igotit,noworries”mumbles.Themanagernodsandleavesusalonewiththemenus.Toobadthetableisturnedsowe’reondisplaytotherestoftheroom.Iwouldmuchprefertofacethewallandhaveonlymybackvisible.
Ipickuptheheavycard-stockmenuthatliesinfrontofme.Insteadoflong-windeddescriptionsorlistsofingredients,thereareonlyfivewordstypedinarow:
FISH
MEAT
BIRD
VEGETABLE
SWEET
Icheckthebackbutthat’sit.TherearenopricesandIpeekoveratSam’spaper.Nopricesthereeither.
“Whatisitnow?”heasks,notliftinghiseyesfromtheworld’smostuninformativemenu.
“Youdon’tthinkit’sstrangetoorder‘bird’andleavetherestuptochance?”
Heshrugs.“Itrustthechef.”
Weorderwhentheservercomes(MEATforSamandFISHforme),andIproudlyremembertotellthemnocarrotsinmybestFanglivoice—low,confident,andwarm.Samgetsintoaspiriteddiscussionofthebestvintagesonofferthatwillmatchourmysteryfood.
“Ishouldhaveknownyou’reawineguy,”Isaywhentheservergoestogetthedrinks.
“Awhat?”
“Youknow,oneofthoseguyswhoholdsupthewholetabletowaxeloquentaboutviscosityandbouquetorwhateveritis.”
“IhardlythinkIwasholdingupthewholetable—whichisyou—togivetheserveranideaofwhatwewantandtoshowrespecttothesommelier’scellar.It’sapityshe’snotintoday.”
ThenhestartsspeakinginMandarin.Iunderstandwhywhentheserverreappears;obviouslyitwouldbesuspicioustobespeakingEnglishwithonlythetwoofusandI’mimpressedSamthoughtofthisdetail.IsmileandnodasifIhaveaclueofwhathe’ssaying.
TheservershowsusthebottleanduncorksthewinebeforepouringabitintoSam’sglasswithaneatflickofhiswrist.HegivesthebottleaquickswipewiththewhiteclothinhisotherhandandwaitsforSamtoswirlandtasteandgivehisapprovingnod.Itrytolookinterested.
TheserverleavesandIdrinkthewinedowninagulpbeforeSam’snarrowedeyestellmeI’vemadeatacticalerror.“Iwasthirsty,”Iexcusemyself.
Helooksawayforamomentasifgatheringstrength.“Fanglidoesn’tdrink.”
Iforgot.“Thenwhydidyoupourmetheglass?”Iask,incensed.AmIexpectedtosittherewithafullglassandnotdrinkit?Inastressfulsituation?DoeshethinkI’mmadeofsteel?
Apparentlyhedoes.“Imaginethisispoison,”hesuggestsasherefillsmyglassameaslycentimeter.“Also,wineisforsipping,notguzzling.”
“Whybother,then?”
Samappearspainedashetraceshisfingerdownthestemofhisglass.“Becauseyoushouldtakeyourtimetoappreciategoodwine?”
“No,whyhavethewineifshecan’tdrinkit?”
Hesighs.“Peopleexpecttheretobewineatdinner,soFangliwouldhaveitvisible.”
Igapeathim.“Doesshedoanythingwithoutamotive?”
Thosedimplesflash.“Doesanyone?”
“Whydoesn’tshecomeoutandsayshedoesn’tdrink?”
“Becausethenshewouldcutoutallbrandingopportunitiesforalcoholcompanies.Theypaywell.”Samglancesathiswatch.“Thisshouldtakeanhourandthenwe’llbedone.”Hedoesn’tbothertodisguisehisrelief.
“Great.”
There’salongsilenceasSamregardsme.“Idon’tthinkthiswillwork,”hesayssoftly.“You’renotFangli.”
I’veneverbeenintotheideaofbeingrescuedbyaknightinshiningarmor,butseeingSamsounequivocallyonTeamFanglistings.Iignoreit;I’vebeenonmyowntoolongforthistomattermuch.“Thenmaybeyoushouldstepupyourhelpinggame,”Isay.
“Whyareyouevendoingthis?”Samtiltshisheadtotheside.
Ishrug.“It’salotofmoney,andasyousokindlypointedout,I’moutofwork.”Idon’ttrusthimenoughtogointoMom’ssituationandwhatIwantthemoneyfor.
“Iknewit.”Samsoundssatisfied.“I’mneverwrong.”
“Iknowyoudid.You’vebeenrabbitingonaboutitsincethisallcameabout.”IreachforthewinebutSam’sfacecausesmetoveeroverintowater-glassterritory.“Itdoesn’tchangewhat’sgoingon.Youlostandwe’redoingthis.”
Hewrinkleshisnosebutstilllookslikeasexgod.
“Stopthat,”Isay.
“What?”
“Youkeeptryingtotripmeupbyshowingmehowattractiveyouare.Iknow,okay?Everyoneknows.Celebritymagazineknows.Thisentirerestaurantknows.Soknockitoff.”Thenforgoodmeasure,Iadd,“Atleastthelooksmakeupforyourpersonality.”
Hestiffens.ThatapparentlyhithomeandIcelebrate.CallmePeppermintPetty.“Ihaveagoodpersonality,”hesays.
“Doyouhatethepeoplewhodoyourmakeup?”
“No.”He’sconfused.
“Theguybringingthefood?Thepersonwhocookedit?”
“Ofcoursenot.”
ItakeadeepbreathtocalmmynervesandsaywhatIthink.“Thenlayoffme.FangliandImadeadealandI’mdoingajob.I’msorryyougotropedintoitbutyoudidn’thavetoplayalong.Youhaveaproblem,takeitoutonFangli,becauseitwasherfuckingidea.”
BecauseI’maquicklearner,despitewhatSamthinks,Iknowthere’sagoodchancethatatleastonepersonintherestaurantiswatchingusatanygivenmomentsoIdeliverthiswithasweetsunnysmilewhileleaningforwardasiftellingSamanamusingstory.
There’salongsilenceasSamrunshisthumboverhislip.Numberonefromthelistagain.TheactionforcesmetolookawayandIbeamvaguelyatthewallbehindhim,makingsuremypostureisstraightanddoingmybesttoresistcheckingthatmywigisn’tcrooked.It’shardwork,beingFangli.
“Fine,”hesays.
“Fine,what?”
“You’reright.Iwilltreatyouwith…”Hestrugglesforaword.
“Respect?”
Helooksupattheceiling.
“Warmth?Affability?Gregariousness?”
Hisgazecomesbackdowntomyface.“Sociability.”
Whatdoesthatmean?Isupposeanythingisbetterthanactivedisdain.MyheartrateslowsnowthattheconfrontationisoverandIhaveatleastapartialvictory,butmybraingerbilsrousethemselvestostartdoingtheirlapsonthewheelaroundmyhead.Whycouldn’tIhavesaidthesametoTodd?Toldhimtotreatmewithrespect?Stoodupformyself?
IlookatSam,who’scheckinghisphoneasifhedoesn’thaveacareintheworld.IsitbecauseSam,actingornot,pricklyornot,seemslikeafundamentallygoodhumanbeingwho,althoughmisguidedly,isbehavinginwhathethinksisthebestinterestofafriendorpossiblygirlfriend?ThatTodddefeatedmebecauseIknewhewasathiscoreadeeplyterribleperson?
ThankGodthefoodcomesquicklybecauseSam’snewlyprofessedsociabilitydoesnotextendtocheerfulconversation.Wozaichifan(Iameating;finallyIhaveaphrasethatmatcheswhatI’mdoing)butthefood’ssogoodIslowdowntosavorit.Iwasinitiallyworriedthatitwouldbeoneofthoseplatter-sizeddisheswithathimblefuloffoodandadrizzleofsomepomegranate–pineneedlereduction,butIwaswrong.Thepoachedfishwithgingerremindsmeofmychildhood.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Samlooksupfromwhatlookslikeasteakbutit’salmostroundlikeabaseball.
“Incredible.”Itakeanotherbite.“Mymomusedtomakesomethinglikethisbutwithwaymoregarlic.”
“Lucky.Idon’tthinkeitherofmyparentshaveevenmadetheirownteaforthelastfortyyears.”
“Didyoueatoutalot?”
“Sometimes.Usuallytheamahswouldcookformebutwehadachefformyparents.”
Asifregrettingsharingthisinformation,Samturnsbacktohisfoodandwedon’tspeakfortherestofthemeal.Aftertheplatesareclearedandwe’rewaitingfortea,IdecideIenjoythesilence.I’vebeenonenoughdatestoknowInolongerhavethedesiretopretendamanisinteresting,andwithSamI’mfreeoftheneedtobother.He’snotmakinganefforteither,whichgivesmetimetothinkabouthowmuchI’vealreadyadaptedtopeoplewatchingme,especiallynowthatMargaretAtwoodhasleftandthere’snooneelsetostareat.
Noneofthemareobviousaboutit,buttheoccasionalglancesareliketheflutterofbutterflywingsonmyskin.Individuallyit’snothing,butcollectively,itturnsheavy.Sampicksuphisteawhenitarrives.
“Weshouldtalksoitdoesn’tlooklikewe’refighting.”Hedeliversthisinadismaltone,likehe’sgoinginforadisagreeablebutnecessarydentalprocedure.
Igivehimago-right-aheadgestureandhestaresatme,atalossforwords.
Irockthecupinthesaucer.“Doyouhirepeopletotalkforyouthesamewayyouhirethemtomakeyourdinnerreservations?”
“It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’vetalkedtosomeoneoutsideofwork,”hesays.
Ifthat’strue,it’ssad.Notenoughtomakemereassesshisattitudebutenoughtomakemecontinuetheconversation.“Whataboutyourfriends?”
“They’reallintheindustry.”
Definitelysad.Tooinsular.I’mcuriousaboutthislifetheylive.“YourWikipediapagesaysyoustartedasastageactor.”
“Webothdid,FangliandI,forafewyearsafterdramaschool.Ourteachersrecommendeditandtheywereright.”
“Why?”
Heleansforward.“There’sanenergyyougetfromaliveaudiencethathonesyourcraft.Theirreactionscanchangetheentiremeaningofaperformanceandyouneedtoadapt.”
Inod.“IrememberonceinuniversityIsaidalinethatwasmeanttobepoignant.Itworkedinrehearsalsbutthentheaudiencelaughed.Theythoughtitwasfunny.”
Samtapsthetable.“Exactly.Youneedtoreactinthemoment.There’snoscenetocutandtryagain.Youhaveoneshotwiththataudienceandthenit’sover.Youcan’tredoit.”
“Doyoueverhaveregretsaboutawayyouplayedaroleonthestage?”
“Many.Allthetime.”Hepusheshiscuptotheside.“Myfirstroleswereoveractedandmygesturesstiff.”
“Inexperience?”
Helooksatme.“Inpart.It’seasiertoactapartthantofeelit.Itwasabattletoopenuponstage.”
Aflashcomesfromovermyshoulder,andwhenSam’sfacesmoothsoutfromhispreviousanimation,Irealizethathe’sbeenspeakingtomenotasPublicSambutashimself.“Someonetookaphoto,”hemurmurs.
IhadforgottenthatIwastheretoplayarole.IfoldupmynapkinwithwhatIhopeiselegance.“WhatdoIdo?”
“Keeptalking.Fangliwouldn’tnoticeasinglephoto.It’sexpected.”
“Whydidyougetintomoviesifyoulikethestagesomuch?”
Hegivesmeabigsmile.“You’lllikethisanswer:money.”Hechangesthetopic.“You’llbewithMeitomorrow,”hesays.“Finalprep.”
“Forwhat?”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“YournewlifeasFangli,ofcourse.”Twelve
Fangli’sinherroomwhenwearrivebackatthehotel,butshecomesintominewhenshehearsus.Fromherreddenedeyes,Iknowshe’sbeencryingbutIdon’tfeelcomfortableenoughtoaskherwhat’swrong,soItakemycuefromSam,whopretendsnottonotice.Maybethisisnormalforher.Hegoestohisownsuitedownthehall,leavingusalonewithMei,whoisinthekitchenmakingtea.
Fanglishakesherhead,herhairbouncing.“Ican’tgetoverhowmuchwelookalike,”shesays.“Howwasdinner?”
Itakeoffthewigandtossitonthetable,whereitspreadslikeanoctopus.“Itwasn’twhatIexpected,”IsayasIscratchmyhead.Gross,butthewigmakesmeitchy.
“Howso?”FangliacceptstheteaMeibringsoutandIbreatheinthedelicatefloweryaroma.It’snotjasmineorchrysanthemumsoIsniffagain.Maybechamomile.MeiremindsFangliofherpersonaltrainerappointmentinthemorning,picksupmyabandonedwigwithoutcomment,andleaves.
Isitcautiouslyonachair,notwantingtotearaseaminmydress.“Iwasworriedpeoplewouldcometalktome,”Isay.
“Thathappensoccasionally,butmostpeoplearerespectful,particularlyinyourcountry.”
“Somearen’t?”
Shelooksatmeoverthecupbeforesheplacesitbackonthetable.“I’mnotapersontothem.I’manobject,aproduct.Commoditiesdon’thavefeelingsoremotions.”
“Ah.”Idon’tknowwhattosay.Mylastboyfriendhadaverbalcodeforthesesituations,whereyouhavetoacknowledgetheissuebutdon’thaveaproductivecomment.Idustitoffanddeploy.“That’srough.Howdoyoufeelaboutthat?”
“It’supsetting.”Fanglismiles.“Thankyou.”
“Forwhat?”
“Asking.Understanding.NottellingmeIshouldbegrateful,thatit’smydutytobeseenandletfanscometome.ThatitcomeswiththeterritoryofbeingrichandfamousandIknewwhatIsignedupforwhenIstartedacting.”
Ithinkaboutthis.Evenforamoviestar,it’snotright.“Youneedspacetobeyourself.”
“Iwonderwhothatisattimes,”shesayssoftly.Thensheshakeshershoulderslikeawetdogandputsherteadown.“Tellmeaboutyourday.”
“Well,Imostlyslept.”Igrimace.“Sorry,didn’tmeantorubthatin.”
“I’monlyabitjealous.Thedinner?”
“Oh,incredible.”IdescribethefoodinexcruciatingdetailuntilInoticeherconfusedexpression.“What?”
“ImeantwithSam.Washe…”Shesearchesforaword.
“Icanhandleit.”
Fanglieyesmesympathetically.“I’msorryhe’sbeingdifficult,”shesays.“I’lltalktohim.”
“No,we’vefigureditout.Itwasn’tasbadasIthoughtitwouldbe.”
Shenods.“Thankyou.”Whenshecloseshereyes,herentirefacedrawsinandgrowstight.
“Tired?”Iask.Igotothefridgeandgrabtwocansofseltzer.AccordingtoMei,Fanglionlydrinksoutofglass,soIopenthecabinet.
“Thecanisfine.”Shereachesoutandplucksitfrommyhand.
“Meisaidglassonly.”
Fangliholdsthecantothesideofherthroattoenjoythecoldbeforeopeningit.Itleavesafaintredmarkonherskin.“Idon’tcare,tobehonest.Theimageconsultantsaiditwasbetterbecauseitwasmoresophisticated.”
“Imageconsultant?”Icanguessthepointfromthenamebutitseemsutterlyunnecessary.
Shegrinsatme.“Iseehereverysixmonths.Shewastrainedasafuturist.”
Thisisintriguing.“Whatdoesshetellyou?”
Fanglitiltsthecantodrinkingulps.“It’squiteanexperience.Ienjoyit.”
“Shedressesyou?”
“Notforthatmoney.”Fanglilaughs.“Shecomesinforhalfaday,andwetalkaboutworldeventsandtrendsshesees.SheworkswithCEOsmostly.”
“Idon’tgetit.”
“Ineedtobeexactlyalittleahead.Nottoomuchandnotbehind.”
“How?”I’mpuzzled.“Howdoyoudothat?”
“Training.”Sheshrugs.“Plusatthispoint,Icreatetrends.IfIcutmyhairlikeyours,youwouldseeaspikeinthatlookgloballyinthenextthreemonths,beginningwithspecificdemographicsegmentsinAsianurbancentersbeforespreadingouttoWesternandEuropeancities.Advertisersmapoutmybrandreachandpotentialformarketpenetrationbeforetheysignmetopromotetheirproducts.”
“Whoa.”Shesaysthatlikeit’snobiggiebutithitsmethatbeingFangliisamultimillion-dollarbusiness.ThismustbewhySamissoworried;there’salotofmoneyatstakeifIscrewup.Nopressure.
“Itrynottothinkaboutit.”Shebeams.“Nowtellmeaboutwhatyou’dbedoingifyouweren’there.”
“Like,ifIhadarealjobthatwasn’tpretendingtobeyou?”IthinkofToddandshiver.Myfearofhim…Wait.Fear?WasIscaredofhim?It’ssuchabigword,moresuitedtoalife-or-deathsituationthanhiskindofgarden-varietyassholeness,butthewordsitsright.I’dbeenscared,buttobehonest,itwasn’tonlyTodd’sactionsbutmyownreactionsthatfrightenedme.I’dfreezewhenheapproachedme.WhatdidthatsayaboutmethatIdidn’tstophim?
“Oranything.”
“I’dgoseemymom.ShehasAlzheimer’sandlivesinanursinghome.”Igetthatoutquickly,notwantinganypity.
Fanglidoesn’tgivemethelookIdread.Sheonlynods.“She’sluckytohaveadevoteddaughtersinceyourfatherpassedaway.”
Itmusthavebeennotedinthedossiershe’dreceivedfromtheprivateeye,butshedoesmethecreditofmentioningitstraightoutinsteadofpretendingshedidn’tknowaboutDad.“Hediedalmosttenyearsago.”Cancer’sabitch.Itrynottothinkaboutit.
“Ah.Ineverknewmymother.ShediedwhenIwasababy.Myfatherremarriedtoanicewomanbutwehavelittleincommon.”
“Ishealive?”
“LivesinBeijing.IseehimwhenIgohomebutherefusestoleaveChina.”
“Why?”There’ssomuchoftheworldtosee.
“HesaystheworldisinChina.”Sherollshereyes.“Ihavenoideawhatitmeanseither.”
“Hedidn’thaveaproblemwithyouacting?”
Fanglistretchesandpullshermassofhairbackintoalooseponytailthatsheimmediatelydropsdown.“I’veonlyeverwantedtwothingsinmylife.Apetcat—whichherefusedwhenIwasachildandnowI’mnothomeenoughtotakecareofevenifIhadone—andtoact.”
“Howdidyouknowthat’swhatyouwantedtodo?”I’mintrigued.
“Ialwaysknew.”Sheflicksthetabofhercanidlywithaperfectlymanicuredfingerpaintedwithclearnailpolish.“MyschoolwaschosentoputonaplayinhonorofavisitfromtheGeneralSecretary.OneofthedirectorsfromtheCentralAcademyofDramasawmeandtoldmyfatherthatIwouldbringglorytoChina.Itwastheonlyreasonmyfatherletmeapply.Hewantedmetobeascientist.”
“Really.”Icouldbewrong,butIdon’tthinkmanyNorthAmericanactorsareencouragedtogointotheindustryoutofpatriotism.
“That’swhereImetSam,”sheadds.“Wewereinthesameyearatschool.”
“Didyouever…”IwrigglemyeyebrowswithmeaningasItesttheground.I’mnosy,okay?Shedoesn’thavetoanswer.
“Never.”
“You’renotacouple?”Ifeellighter,whichisweirdbecauseit’snotasifnotdatingFanglimeansSam’sopentome.
Sheshudders.“Samislikemybrother,butpeoplefinditimpossibletobelieveamanandwomancansimplybefriends.Icouldneverseehimlikethat.Ever.”Shemakesakindofhilariouschokingface.
“Really?”Ileanforward.“Notevenwhenyoumet?”BecauseIimagineevenintheblunderingteenageyearsSamwouldhavestoodout.
“AttheAcademy,therewasnotimefordating,andinanycase,Ihadacrushonhisbestfriend.”
“Alovetriangle?”
“WewereyoungandneitherSamnorIareinterestedineachother,somoreofaone-waylovelinethanatriangle.”Fanglilaughs.“PoorChen.HestartedatechnologycompanyandIhaven’tseenhiminages.HelivesinVancouver.”Sheraiseshereyebrows.“Thedetectivesaidyouweresingle.”
“Fortwoyears,”Isay.“Rileywas—Imean,is,he’snotdead—aniceguy.”
“But?”
“Idon’tknow.”TalkingwithFangliissocomfortable,liketalkingtothesisterIalwayswanted.OrwhatIimaginesisterhoodtobelike.“ItwasneveraragingpassionbutonedayIcookeddinnerandweateandwhenIwasdoingthedishes,IknewifIhadtodothateverynightfortherestofmylife,Iwouldshriveltoahusk.”
“Youcookedanddidthedishes?”Fanglifrowns.“Whatdidhedo?”
Iblink.“Idon’tknow.Ialwaysdidthem.”
“Isee.Well,howdidhetakeit?”Fanglileansforward,eyeswide.
“That’sthezinger.IagonizedforaweekbeforeIdecidedthebestwaytotellhim.Ididn’twanttohurthim,soIwantedtoavoidarestaurantincasetheplacewouldhavebadmemoriesforhim.Welivedtogether,butitseemedcoldtosithimdowninthelivingroom.Intheend,Iaskedhimtogoforawalk.”
“Whythat?”
“Ithoughtitwouldhelpdistractfromthemessage.”
Shenodsasiffilingthisaway.“Thezinger,asyoucalledit?”
“Right.IdoallthisplanningandthenItellhim,Hey,it’snotyou,it’smebutIthinkthisisover.”
“Didhecry?”Sheleansfurtherin.
“Nope.”
“Yell?”
“Notatall.”
Hernosescrunchesup.“Whatdidhesay?”
Evennow,Ican’tbelieveit.“Hesaid,‘Okay,cool.’”
Fangliwaits.Thensheasks,“That’sit?”
“That’sit.‘Okay,cool.’Nothingelse.Weturnedaroundandwenthome.Isleptinthespareroomandwewereverygenialroommatesforthreeweeksbeforehefoundanewplace.Heshookmyhandwhenheleft.”
Ihadn’ttoldAnjalithattidbit,toostunnedandalmostembarrassedwhenithappened.Fangli’seyesarehugewithdisbelief.
“Ahandshake?”sherepeats.
“Likethis.”IgiveherthesinglefirmandprofessionalshakethatRileygavemebeforehewalkedoutthedoor,likeIwasanewclienthewasconfidentwasgoingtosignonbecauseofthesolidpitchhe’dgiven.
Icanseehertrytocontrolit,butFangli’sliptwitches.Themoreshepressesherlipstogether,themoreIcanfeelmyownstartingtoedgeup.
“I’msorry,”shewhispers,coveringhermouthwithherhand.“It’snotfunny.Butahandshake?”
I’llgiveherthis—shemakesavaliantattempttogetherselfundercontrol.ThenIgiveheranod,thatsharp,imperious,andexcessivelyirritatingdipoftheheadthatRiley’dalwaysgivenmewheneverhe’dfinishedexplainingindetailwhyhewasrightandIwaswrong.
That’sallittakes.Fanglisnortsinelegantlyintoherhand,whichsetsmeoff.Thisinturnstartshergiggling,whichgetsmecackling.Withinseconds,we’rebothdoubledup,laughinguntilwecan’tbreathe.Rileymighthavebeenthetrigger,butthisisasimpleandmuch-neededstressrelease.
“Howlongwereyoutogether?”shegasps.
“Twoyears.”Iwipethetearsaway,butwhenshehearsthat,hergigglesstartupagain.
“Twoyears,”shefinallywhisperstoherselfasIrubmystomach,whichhurtsfromlaughing.Shestandsup.“Whatsortofamandoesthat?”
“Goodquestion,”Isay,soberingalittle.
Shelooksatmeclosely.“Onethatdoesn’tdeserveyou.”
“He’soutofmylife,”Isay.“Itwaseasytoshakeitoff.”
ThatsetsFanglioffagainandoccasionalgustsoflaughterfollowasshewavesgoodnightandgoestobed.Ican’thelpbutsmile.I’dalwayshadlingeringfeelingsaboutthatbreakup,wonderinghowboringIwasthat“okay”wasalltheemotionRileycouldsummon.I’dfeltlackingbutFangli’scontagiousgleehadshiftedsomethinginmymind.Thehumorpluckedouttheremainingsting.DidFangligivemethevalidationthatIdidn’tknowIcraved,orwasitsimplyreliefattellingsomeone?Regardless,Icouldputittorest.
Speakingofrest…Icrackayawnsobigitnearlyturnsmyfaceinsideout.Bedforme,too.Thirteen
Nowthatwe’vecometoouragreement,IpreferbeingwithSammorethanwithMei.SheislikethemostintimidatingexecutiveassistantforthemostdemandingCEO.She’sprecise,unflappable,expressionless,andperpetuallyunamused.Like,IknowI’mnotfunnybutisn’titcommoncourtesytoatleastfakeasmileatbadjokes?
Notifyou’reMei.
Ishouldfindhereasytodealwith,likearobot,butinsteadIhavethedualsenseofbeingjudgedandanxious.AtleastwithSamI’mjudgedandanxiousbutIhavesomethingnicetolookat.
TodayMeitakesmeonadeepdiveintoFangli’sartcollection.MyartcollectionistwoframedpostersfromIKEAinmylivingroom,sothere’salotofinformationtocover.Thisisworsethananexam,andItapoutafterthreehoursofartthatIhavenoideahowtointerpret.
“Timeforabreak,”Isay,slappingtheboundbookletonthetableandgoingtothefridge.“Doyouwantsomewater?”Idrinkwater.Woheshui.IbettermaketimetolistentomyapptodaysoIcangettogoodthingsliketalkingabouttheweather.
“Buyao.”Meidoesn’tlookup.
Igetthetoneifnotthewords.It’sahardno.
“IthoughtI’dgoseemymotherthisafternoon,”IsaywhenIreturntothetable.“Afterall,I’mnotaprisoner.”ThelastisalittletoodefensivebecauseifI’maprisoner,it’sapamperedonetakenoutformealsinexorbitantlyexpensiverestaurants.
“Thereisnotime,”Meisays.Hervoiceissmooth.“Youhaveafacialbookedandarethengoingshopping.”
“Whatabouttheclothesinthere?”Ipointatthehugecloset.
“Mr.YaoandMs.Weifeelyouwouldbenefitfrompickingoutsomeofyourownthings.Ihaveanappointmentsetforanacceptablebrand.”
“Fanglisaystheycometoher.”
Meidoesn’tchangeexpression.“Theyarecominghere.”
It’stimeforlunchandIthinkshethawsabitwhenIaskhertoeatwithme.It’ssashimitoday,andIdiginaftercrackingopenaDietCoke.“HaveyouworkedwithFangliforlong?”Idon’tknowanythingaboutMeipersonally.
“Twoyears.”She’sadelicateeaterandIslowdownabitoutofshame.
“Whatdidyoudobeforethat?”
“Iworkedinthestudiodoingoddjobs.”
“WheredidyoulearnEnglish?”
“Itaughtmyself.”
Iwaitforanyquestionsfromhersideorevenafollow-upanswerbutshe’scontenttoeatinsilence.Ball’sinmycourt.“DoesSamhaveanassistantaswell?”
Shepauses.“DengisillandMr.Yaodecidedtomakedo.”
“That’stoobad.Ihopehegetsbetter.”Thepolitewordscomeautomatically.
Noreply.IdecidetogetsomeexternalconfirmationofwhatFanglisaidthenightbefore.“WhenIwasdoingresearch,therewerealotofpiecesaboutSamandFanglibeingacouple.”
“Yes.”Hervoiceiswooden.Ican’treadthischickworthbeans.
“Isittrue?”
Mei’scheekspinken.“Mr.YaoandMs.Weiaregoodfriends.IbelieveMr.Yao’sattentionsareelsewhere.”
Hehasagirlfriend.Istuffsomeruby-redtunaintomyface.Thisisdisappointingandshouldnotbe,notbyalongshot.He’srich,famous,andincrediblyhandsome.He’saUNambassador.ItshouldbeAmalAlamuddinYaoinsteadofClooney.
MeiisnowfullyredandIwonderwhatgossipshehasthatshe’snotsharing.Ishouldn’tputheronthespotsoIchangethetopic.“Arethereplansfortonight?”
“Anartexhibit.”
That’swhyI’vebeencrammedfullofknowledgetoday.Myheartthumps.“Ihavetotalk?”
“Aboutart.”Sheglancesatherwatch.“Timeforthefacial.”
***
Iknowaboutartnow,ItextAnjali.
ShesendsaphotooftheMonaLisasmokingablunt.
It’sgoodtotextwithAnjali,abitofnormalcyinwhatisturningouttobeawhackadoodleweek.Shetellsmeaboutwork;Itellherabouthowtowalkupstairsinaminiskirt.(Apparentlythekeyistoangleyourbodytotheside.)We’vebeentalkingmoresinceI’vebeenlivingattheXanadu.Anjalisaysshewantstoliveliketheonepercentvicariouslythroughmebutit’sobviousshe’scheckingintomakesureI’msafe.HerconcerntouchesmemorethanIthoughtitwould,andImakeanefforttotexthereverydaysosheknowsI’malive.
Thenshe’sofftoameetingandIpreparetobepampered.
Theaestheticiancomestotheroomandsetsupshopwithbottlesandvialsandbright-whitetowelsbeforeinvitingmetoliedownwithasmilefilledwithteethsobleachedthey’reblue.Thencomesanhourofcosseting,fromcoldmaskstofacerollersfromthetopofmyheadtothetopsofmyboobsor,astheaestheticiancallsit,mydécolletage.Therearemanycreamsandsmells.Mymultipleimperfectionsarepokedandproddedandeventuallyeradicatedundertheskillfulhandsandtweezersoftheaesthetician.Itfinisheswithafacemaskthatwarmsandtightensmyskinastenfingersrubandscratchagainstmyscalp.IfI’dbeenacat,Iwouldhavepurred.IthinkIpurranywaybecauseIamagooey,limpjellyfishwithnovisiblepores.TheaestheticianassuresmethisisanewprocesssoIcangooutrightawayinsteadoflettingmyskinsettle.Itakeherwordforit.
Iliethereinablissfuldazeofrelaxationuntilshestartstopulloffthemask,whichhascementeditselftomyface.Atmymewlofprotest,theaestheticianpauses.“Thisshouldn’thurt,”shesays.
IwouldhaveansweredhadIbeenabletomovemylips,butthemaskhasgluedtheminplace.Thewomantugsatthemaskandliftsmyheadrightoffthetable.
“Ihaven’tseenthisbefore,”shesaysinathoughtfultone.
TherearecertaintimesIdon’twanttohearthatI’mspecial.Thefirstisfromanyhealthcareprofessional.Aclosesecondisfromawomanwho’sslatheredmewithgoopshecan’tgetoffmyface.MeimaterializesbesidemelikePorella,theAvengingAngelofSkincare,asthewomanslowlypeelsthemaskoff.IswivelmyeyestoherfaceandseethedropletsofstresssweatonherupperlipasMeimurmursastreamoflow-voicedencouragementthattheaestheticianandIbothinterpretasthinlyveiledthreats.
I’veneverbeenflayedbutIhaverippedoffadhesivebandages.Iimaginethisexperienceissomewherebetweenthetwo.I’mnoyetibutwhateverhairswereonmyfacebidmyskinanunwillingfarewellasshedetachesthemaskmillimeterbymillimeterandItrynottosqueal.It’shard.
Whenshegivesafinalrip,Iscreech.
Thedoorbangsopen.“Whatthehell’sgoingon?”
Alotofthingshappenatonce.Samcomesthroughthedoorinadarkblur.Shocked,Ipopupfromthetablelikeajack-in-the-box,forgettingthatI’monlywrappedinatowelthatimmediatelyfallsoff.Sammakeseyecontactwithmebeforehiseyesdipdowntomygiganticheart-polka-dotgrannypantiesandhefreezesbeforeheslapshishandsoverhisfaceandstumblesbackmakinginarticulatesounds.Iscrambletopickupthetowel,intheprocessknockingtheportabletablewithmybutt.Itslamsintothepooraesthetician,whoisgawkingatthebeautythatisSamYao.Shefallsbackandthenletsoutahighkeeningsoundasherhandplungesintothepotofwhitishdevilgoothathasmadesuchamessofmyface.
Meirisesupandgetsusorganizedwithoutasingleword.Samissenttowaitinhisroom.I’mdirectedtogetbackonthetablewithafingerjab.Shegivesalooktotheaesthetician—amarvelofexpressionlesseloquence—whowipeshertwitchinghandswithatowel.
Allthatbeautifulrelaxationhasgone.HowcouldIhaveforgottentogetthekeyfromSam?Myface,theskinmuchthinnerthanitwastenminutesago,burnswithshame.Howmuchdidhesee?OnceI’mnotdressedinatowel,we’regoingtohavewords,butnowI’mabeatenhumansprawledacrossthetablewithMeibendingovermeshakingherheadandtheaestheticianpokingatmewithcautiousfingers.
“Nothingacoolingmaskwon’tsolve,”shechirpsfinally.
IcatchMei’seyeandwehaveamomentofcommunionasIbegherthroughaninterpretiveeyebrowdancetosaveme.
“We’redueforanotherappointment,”shesayssmoothly.
“ThenI’lluseatonerand…”
“I’mgood!”Iswingmyfeetdownandslideonthethinterryclothslippers.Ifinallymanagetobackout,holdingthetowelaroundme.Meifollowsmeintothebedroom,mepokingmyheadaroundthedoortomakesureit’sSam-free,andwebothlookinthemirrortosurveytheblotchypatchesthatcovermyfacelikeaninfectiousdisease.
Icranemynecktothesideandsuckinmycheek.There’sapatchthatresemblesAustralia.“It’snotthatbad,”Isay.“Alittlesore,maybe.That’sthepointofexfoliation,right?Togetridofdeadlayerstogetyourskinsofter?”I’veneverdonemorethanacrushed-apricot-seedscrub,sothisisoutofmyrealmofexperience.
Isplashcoldwateronmyfacetorelievesomeoftheburnandthendampenatoweltopressagainstmycheek.There’snopointgettingangryattheaesthetician,whoprobablydidthebestshecould,soIkeepmymouthshutandtrytolookonthebrightside.Meiwatchesmeinthemirror.“Didsheaskaboutyourskintype?Whatmedicationsyou’reon?Ifyouhadpreviousallergies?”
“Whatdoesthatmatter?”Imovethetoweltotheotherside.
“It’sherjobandshefailedifshedidn’tcheck.”
“Well,it’stoolatenow.I’msureshedidherbest.”Idon’twanttogetherintrouble.Igrabavialofhotelmoisturizerandslathermyfacewiththesmellofvanillaandnutmeg.IreadastudythatsaidthatmenlikewomentosmelllikesweetfoodsbutIdon’tthinkthisiswhattheyhadinmind.Inowsmelllikeabakerypreppingfortheholidays.
Perfect.
***
IdecidetoignoreSam’sspectatorstatusinmylatestdisgraceandprayhe’lldothesame.There’snoneedforeitherofustorelivethatmomentofgroomingchaos,andnowthatwe’vecalledadétente,itwouldberudeofhimtotrytolorditoverme.
Meiputstheshoppingvisitorsoffforanhourassheworksovermyfacewithasolidinchoffoundation.
“Whoa.”IleanoverandinspectthespacewhereAustraliausedtobe.Nothing.“Youdidafantasticjob.”
Meisaysnothingbutpacksawaythebrushesandpaintswiththegrimsatisfactionofawomanwhohasaccomplishedtheimpossible.Thenshehandsmethewig.
“AmIFangliforthis?”
“Yes.”
Ituckmyshorthairinandletthewigfalldownmyback.MaybeI’llgrowmyhairout.IwonderifSampreferslonghairorshort.
Nope.No,Idonotwonderthat,notatall.ItisamatterofutterindifferencetomewhatSamprefers.
Meitakesmebackintothemainroomofthesuitewhererollingclosetshavebeensetup.Istopdeadinthedoorasamanandawomanpopout.They’redressedidenticallybutinopposites,hiswhiteshirtandblackpantsoffsettingherblackshirtandwhitepants.Bothhavelongblackhairinbraidsthatframeappraisingpursedlipsandcheekbonesthatcanbeseenfromthestratosphere.I’malmostcertainthey’remultiracialandIstarewithoutshamebecauseit’ssuchathrillformetoseepeoplewholookabitlikemeandwhoarearoundmyage.IfonlyIhadknownmorepeoplelikemegrowingup.Orevennow.Anjalioncetoldmeshecouldgohometoherparent’svillageandbesurroundedwithpeoplewholookedlikeher,spokeherlanguage,andknewherhistoryforgenerationsback.
Maybeitwouldbestifling.I’llneverknowbecausetherewillneverbeaplacelikethatforme,acommunityofpeoplewhosharemyhistoryandfamily.
Butthisisn’tthetimetodwellonthelivedexperiencesofindividualscreatingabiracialidentityinmodernNorthAmerica,becausetheseclothesaremyjam.IfFangli’sclosetistimelessluxury,thesetwoarealsohigh-endbutwithanedge.IcantelltheyrunthesortofstorethathasthreeshirtshangingonarodandaDJ.I’mintimidatedbytheircoolnessevenasI’mpantingtoseewhattheyhave.“Localdesigners,”saysMei.“TraceandHendonfromHouseofSwing.”
Icanhandlethisaslongastheydon’tasktoomanyquestions.Weshakehandsandthenthewoman,Trace,jumpsinbyaskingaboutmydesignphilosophy.
“Mydesignphilosophy,”Iecho.
“Right,”sheencouragesme.“Whatdoyouwanttoaccomplish?”
Besidesnotbeingnaked?IstruggleforananswerbeforeIrememberoneoftheartist’sstatementsinFangli’sartsummary.“Ivaluetheabilityoflinetoarousetheemotivestate,”Iplagiarize.
TheycontemplatethisbeforeHendonsmiles.“Good.Nowtellus…”
BeforeI’mforcedtoelaborateonwhateverthehellIsaid,Samcomesintotheroom.Ireallyneedtogetthatkeyfromhim,numberone,andwhyishehere,numbertwo?
“WhenFanglitoldmeyouwerecoming,Iwantedtostopby,”hesays.“Iadmireyourwork.”BothTraceandHendonstraightenupandsmooththeirhair.Samhasthateffectonpeoplewhenhetries,andforsomereason,he’stryingnow.Orishegenuinelyinterestedinfashiondesign?Ithinkhemightbe,becauseinlessthanaminute,hehasthemtalkingabouttheirownphilosophyandpullingoutclothesthatillustratedifferentfactors.
I’mlefttomyowndevices,whichisgoodbecauseIcanbrowsethroughtheracksastheytalk.Ipulloutanelegantdress,ablack-and-whitesheaththatdropsstraightdownfromtheshoulders,andrubthematerialbetweenmyfingers.Itfeelslikeathicksatinbutwithouttheshine.
IlookovermyshouldertoseeSamwatchingme.Heturnsfromtheconversationtopickoutahanger.“Trythis,”hetellsme.He’swearingashort-sleevedshirtandhisbicepsflexashehandsmethemassofblackfabric.BothTrace’sandHendon’seyesaregluedtohisarm.Itearmygazeaway.
“Ilikethisdress,”Isay.
“Youcantryonboth.”Thenhedirectsthatsmileatme.“Thiswillsuityou.”
It’saneasyrequestandIreallyhavenoreasontonottryonthe…whateveritishe’sholdingout…butIbalk.Idon’twanthimdressingmeandthinkingheknowswhatsuitsmebetterthanIdomyself.ButTraceandHendonnodinapprovalandIbend.Idon’twanttoembarrassanyone.Plus,Fangliwouldprobablytryonthedamnthing.
Itakethembothandafewotheritemsthatcatchmyattentionandbringthemintothebedroom.ThefirstthingthatgoesonisthesheathdressIchose.Ifrown.Althoughitlookedgoodonthehanger,onceon,ithangsandweighsmedown,forcingmetowriggleundertheheavymaterialpullingagainstmyshoulders.
Fine,it’sano-go.Ipullonhigh-waistedwideblackpantswithlittlebuttonsonthehipsandablackshirtandthen,joyofjoys,slipintoapairofclosed-toeflatslides.Socomfortable.Noheels.IbitemylipasIwonderwhetherI’msupposedtogooutsotheycansee.IguessIshould?WouldFanglinormally?Meiisn’taroundtoask;shedisappearedwhenSamarrived.
I’llgooutasifIwanttomatchanothershirttothepants.Thentheycanseemeandcommentbutit’snotlikeI’mseekingsuggestions.Fangliwouldn’tneedadvice.Sheprobablylegithasadesignphilosophy.
AllthreemakeanidenticalapprovingexpressionwhenIcomeoutbutSamistheoneIfocuson.Hetiltshisheadtotheside,thenreachesoutforapale-pinkshirt.ItrytonotmakeafacebecauseIneverwearpastels.HegivesitashakeandItakeitbackintotheroom.
DamnSam,IthinkwhenIpulliton.Theshirtisperfect.Onceon,thecolorbecomesmoreofamood.Ifeel…pretty?Yes.It’saveryprettylook.Ilookatthemirrorappraisingly.I’veneverbeenpretty.CutewasaboutashighasIeverroseinthelookshierarchy,which,accordingtome,goes:
Gorgeous/Stunning
Beautiful
Pretty,andontheothersideofthespectrum,Handsome
Striking
Attractive
Cute
[Then,waydown]
Unique
Yetthispinkismagical.Icomeoutwithalittlebitofswagger,andTraceandHendonbothsay“Yes”inunison.Samdoesn’tsayanythingbutthelookinhiseyesremindsmeofthatfirstdaywhenhewalkedacrosstheroom,lookingatmelikeIwasthemostimportantwomanintheworld,theonlypersonwhomatteredtohim.Rightnow,hisattentionisfocusedonmeandonlyme,butunlikelasttime,itdoesn’tseemlikeachallenge.
It’soverwhelming.IgobacktotheroomanduntangletheblackthingSamgaveme,whichturnsouttobeajumpsuitthat’stightaroundtheankleswithacollaredtopandanopenback.Nowaytowearabra.Huh.IgiveabitofajumpanddecideI’llhavetofindthoseplasticdisksyougluetoyourboobstokeeptheminplace.
SinceIdon’thavethemnow,I’llhavetoownit.Iwalkoutandthedesignersbothcomeovertostartfussingoverthefit.Samcrosseshisarmsbuthelooksinmyeyes,notatthenecklineorthefree-flyinggirls.It’sasifheseesme,Gracie,andIwonderifit’strulymeandnotFangli,orsomethingbetweenthemthatcouldneverbe.
Itputsmeoff-balanceandIdropmyeyesfirst.Fourteen
Itakethepants,theshirts,andthejumpsuitbutsaynotothedress.Samlingersuntiltheroomisempty,andItrytoforgethesawmetwohoursagomadlysearchingformytowelwithhalfmyfacerippedoff.WhenIwasmostlynaked.
“Artshowtonight,”hesays.“Fanglithinksyou’reready.”
“Fangli’shardlyevenseenmeasher.”Itakeoffthewigtoairoutmybrainforafewminutes.“Whereisit?”
“Don’tyouknow?”Headjustshissleeves.
Ishrug.Ihaven’tbeenkeepingtrackofwhateventsarecomingsinceMeihasbeenteachingmeprettymuchonthefly.
“TheMuseumofContemporaryArt.”
“AmIbuyingsomeart?”
“No.You’reinterestedinsupportinglocalartistsandyou’retheretoadmire.It’saprivateshowingofaprivatecollection.”
“Willtherebemedia?”
“Possibly.There’snotmuchpointinhavingexpensivethingsandimportantpeopleadmirethemifnooneknows.”Heyawns.“Icandealwiththat.”
“Icandoit.”
Helookslikehe’sgoingtoarguebutinsteadcheckshiswatch.“Weleaveinanhour.”
Thenhe’sgonebeforeIcanaskhimforhiskey.
Anhour.FirstIcallthenursinghomeandtheyreassuremethatMom’sfine.ThenIcheckmylist,whichisgettingstressfulanddauntingagain.WhatifItrysortingthetasksoutbythetimetheywilltake?Ispendahappytwentyminutessortingandresortingthetasksfromleasttomosttimeneededbeforedecidingthevalueofthetaskwasmoreimportant.Oncethey’relisted,IrealizeI’dspentthewholetimeworkingonthelistinsteadofdoinganytasks.Itcouldbebecauseoneofthosetasks,callthelawyer,makesmesouncomfortableIhavetroubleseeingthewords.Myeyesskitteroverthem.
Notagoodstarttocreatingmyownproductivitymethod.Iadd“findawaytodealwithdisagreeabletasks”onthelist.
AtleastI’veleftmyselfenoughtimetogetready.IsticktheplasticdisksMeifoundtomyboobs,impressedattheirenhancedperkiness.Ishouldweartheseallthetime.Sheleftmewithinstructionsaboutfresheningmyface,andIdabandshadeandlinelikeasoldierapplyingcamouflagepaintbeforebattle.Thejumpsuit,whichTraceandHendontailoredwithexpertfingersbeforetheyleft,slidesovermyskinlikespace-agearmor,andIbegrudgeSamslightlyforhavingsuchgoodtaste.Iadjustthewig.
WhenIlookinthemirror,thistimeI’mFangli.OrFangliincutebutcomfortableshoes.
MeiorderedmetowaituntilFangliarriveshomesotherearen’tconflictingreportsofherbeingseentwice.IcomeoutwhenIhearouradjoiningdooropenandnearlyexclaimoutloud.IfshelookedbeatendownthatfirstdayIsawherintheSUV,todayshe’ssodrainedshe’stransparent.
“What’swrong?”Iask.
Sherubsherforehead.“Abittired.”
Thisisn’tregularphysicalfatigue.InormallyhavetheemotionalsenseofasquirrelbutFangli’sentirebeingradiatesafeelingI’mveryfamiliarwith.She’ssotenseshecanbarelymoveandsolethargicshedoesn’twantto.Ithinkshe’sdepressed.Notsad.Depressed,withalltheloadedmeaningthetermbrings.
“Fangli?”Myvoiceistentative.
Sheraisesherheadandtriestosmilebeforehereyeswiden.“Incredible.It’slikelookingatmyreflectionwhenyouhaveonmakeup.Wheredidyougetthatjumpsuit?Iwantone.”
“Thanks.”
“Youneedbetterjewelrythanthoselittlegoldhoops,though.Redforsomecolor.”ShecallstoMei,whoappearsinafewminutesandputsapairofearringsandabraceletintomyhand.
“Pleasetellmethesearefake.”TheheavycoolweightofthebraceletslithersovermyfingerswhenIpickitup.
Fanglishrugs.“It’sallinsured.Putthemon.”
Theearringsarechandeliersthataresurprisinglylightforthenumberofgemsinthem,andthetennisbraceletofalternatingrubiesanddiamondssoonwarmsonmywrist.
“Lovely,”Fangliapproves.“Nowyoulookfinished.”
Shestandsupandwelookatourselvesinthemirror.“Howisitpossiblewelooksoalike?”Iask.“Doyouhaveaphotoofyourparents?”ObviouslyBradReedofBrampton,Ontario,won’tlooklikeFangli’sfather,butmaybeourmothersarelong-losttwins.
“Onlymyfather.”Webothpulloutourphones,andwhenSamcomesin,we’recomparingandcontrastingnoseandeyeshape.
Samshakeshishead.“Ifyouweren’tonlyhalf,I’dthinkyouwerearealChinese.”
MybreathcatchesbutbeforeIcanthinkofwhattosay,heturnstoFangliandspeakstoherinMandarin.Hiscasualdismissalmakesme…Idon’tknow.I’msureGerman,whichcameupwithschadenfreudeandkummerspeck,hasawordfortheunnamablemixofemotionsIhave,butevenasanadult,Idon’thavethelanguage.WhydiditbothermelesswhenAnjalisaidalmostthesamething?
“Ready?”SamturnstomeandIdecideit’snotworththefight.WhatwouldIsay?Tellhimhalfisgoodenoughtobereal?
We’rebothquietaswedescend.I’mnotsurewhatSam’sthinkingbutdespitemychoicetonotmentionwhathesaid,thewordskeepturningoverinmymind.ApasttherapisthadoncegentlyinvitedmetositwiththeideathatIhadinternalizedhavinglessofaclaimtocallmyselfwhiteorChinesebecauseIneverfeltIbelongedtoeithergroup.Ihadignoredthatbecauseit’snotlikeIwasgoingaroundfeelingbadwhennoonegavemeoneoftheirTeamWhiteorTeamChineseT-shirts.ButSam’scommenthasstirredupsomeapparentlyunresolvedfeelings.
Ipushthosethoughtsbackdownintothedarkholewheretheyusuallylurk.Thiswon’tbethelasttimeIhearsomethinglikethis,anditwasn’tthefirst,butIdon’thavethecapacitytoworkthroughit,notwhenI’mabouttogooutinpublicimpersonatinganinternationalcelebrity.Ifirmlyinvitemyselftositwiththeideathatit’stimetoconcentrateonthejobathand.
Thistimewhenwegothroughthelobby,IchannelmyfullFangliattitudeasIsweepthrough.It’smucheasierwhenIdon’thavetoworryabouttotteringonpencil-thinheelsandmyboobslookaerodynamic.
ThecariswaitingandI’malittlehorrifiedathoweasilyI’veadaptedtoalifeofdeluxeperks.Thouartbutanimpersonator,Ichanttomyself.Twomonthsandyou’rebacktothesubwayatrushhour,unseenandunknown.
Samdoesn’tcommentonmyperformance,andIgoundertheassumptionthatnonewsisgoodnews.Instead,hestartsrunningthroughtipsonhowtohandletheupcomingevent.IwouldlistenbuthiscollarisslightlyopenattheneckandI’mdistractedbywonderingwhathelookslikewithnoshirton.IbetthereareimagesonlinebutIdefinitelycan’tcheckthatonmyphonehereinfrontofhim.Honestly,Iwouldn’tevenifheweren’there.Afewweeksago,I’dhavenohesitationaboutsearchingshirtlesspicturesofhim,butnowit’ssquickytoeventhinkoflookingforthem,asifI’dbeviolatinghisprivacy—evenifhe’dposedforthem.
I’dtuckedMei’sartdossierintomypursebeforeIleft,andIpullitouttogivemesomethingtothinkaboutbesidesSam’schest.Fangli’sfavoritethemeisrejuvenationandshebuilthercollectionaroundthat,althoughit’sbizarretomethatapersonmyownagehasanartcollection,letaloneathematicone.Iflipthroughtheprintoutsagain,frowningataphotographofanupside-downfacewiththelipsspreadfarapartinapainedscream,andtrytoseehowit’satallinvigorating.
Samseesmystruggleandpointstotheartist’sstatement.IreadittwicebutitmightaswellbewritteninSwedishforallthatIunderstandit.“I’mnotgoingtotalkabouttheart,”Isay.“I’llfurrowmybrowandnodasIpaceinfrontofit.”
“Whatifyou’reaskedwhatyouthink?”
Irole-playedthiswithMei,soIfeelconfident.“ThatI’mfascinatedandthenaskthemwhattheythink.”
Hepinchesthebridgeofhisnose.“Really?”
“Well,whatwouldyousay?”
“I’dpickanelementandcommentonitbeforeaskingthemtheiropinion.”
Iwavethepain-facepictureathimandheplucksitoutofmyhand.“TheplacementcallstomindYongChen’sworkonlonelinessandjuxtaposestheideaofisolationwiththatofrejuvenation.Isitanindividualorcommunalactivity?”
Itrytoreleasemyclenchedfists.“BecauseIamfamiliarwiththeworksofYongChen.”
“Oryoucouldsaywhatyouhonestlythinkwhenyouseeit.Howdoesitmakeyoufeel?Whatdoesitevoke?”
BeforeIanswer,he’sbarrelingontohisnextpoint,wavingatthedossier.“Onceartisoutoftheartist’shands,it’suptotheviewertodeterminemeaning.”
“Idisagree.”
“Youdo?”Heraisesthosefineslantedeyebrows.
“Isolationismispassé.”Igiveatheatricalsniffandtossmywealthoffakehair.“Youneedtoconsiderthecontextoftheworkandintent.Artisn’tcreatedinavacuum.”
“Yetinterpretationismediatedbytheexperiencesandvaluesoftheviewer.”
I’mgettingintothis.“Whichareinturnaffectedbyknowledgeoftheartist’sintention.Is‘viewer’eventhecorrectword?Viewingimpliesdistanceandlackofengagement.Artshouldmoveusfromviewingtoactiveparticipation.”
“Allart?”Heleansforward,elbowsonhisknees.Theposedropshisshirtdowntorevealtheshadowedmusclesofhischest.
“Whydoyouact?”Lookingdown,Iseehischest.Lookingup,thatface.Thereisnosafezone.
“Ineedtotellstories.”Nohesitationwhenheanswers.“OnesonlyIcangivelifeto.”
“Doyouwantsomeonetowatchandforget?Ortobechanged?”
“Thelatter,obviously.”
Istareathimandhegrimaces.
“Thatmightbestretchingit.Amused,ataminimum.”
“Thereyougo.”
“Youwin.”Hesitsbackup.
“Weweren’tfighting.”
“No,”hesayswithsurprise.“Thatwon’tlast.”Helooksathisveryprettywatch.“Almosttime.”
Dreadbuilds.DinnertheothernightwasfinesinceallIhadtodowaseat.Thisisgoingtobemeondisplay,withpeoplewhoarecomfortableapproachingmeandexpectingarticulateconversation.
ThisiswhyI’mgettingthesemi-bigbucks.FangliisconfidentIcandoit,anddespitehismultitudeofpersonalityflaws,SamwillhavemybackifitwillhelpFangli.
He’sgettingintoquizmode.“What’syourlatestartpurchase?”heasks.
“AMuratTekinpainting,”Isay.Triumphant,Iscramblethroughmynotes.“Damn.That’sthelastIsold.Lookatthatpricetag.Isthiswhatartpeopletalkabout?”
“Dependsonthecrowd.”Hesighs.“Whyshecan’tbeinterestedinmoretraditionalart,Idon’tknow.”
“Whatdoyoucollect?”Iask.“Mingporcelains?”
“RuwarefromtheNorthernSongdynasty.”Heglancesatmeoutofthecornerofthosedarkeyes.“Mycollectioniscurrentlytouring.It’sinBerlinrightnow.”
“Oh.”Ikeepforgettinghecomesfrommoneyaswellasbeingfamous.“That’sneat.”
Hedoesn’tgracethiswitharesponse,andIpagethroughmorescreamingfacesandoutstretchedhandsasmyanxietyratchetsup.AtleastIlookrightfortheoccasionandSam’ssinglenodwasadefinitestepupfromhispreviousexpressionswhenhesawme.Thejumpsuitflowsaroundmyhipslikewater.It’ssimpleandperfectandthewig,withitsheavyweightofhair,feelsnaturalforthefirsttime.I’veeventoneddownmyconcernsaboutlosingFangli’sjewelrybyaboutseventypercent.
Thecartakesustothewestendoftownandturnsdownaresidentialstreetthattransformsintoanindustrialzone.Ipeeroutthewindow.“Iknowwhereweare.”
“Youshould.Don’tyoulivenearby?”
“Idon’tgotoalotofmodernartmuseums.”
“It’scontemporaryart,”hecorrectsme.
Ilookatthedossier.“Aren’ttheythesame?”
Samsighs.“Contemporaryartisevolvingandstartedaroundsixtyyearsago.It’sdifferentiatedfrommodernartinthatit’smoreconceptuallyratherthanaestheticallybased.”
“Oh.Thusthescreamingfaces?”
“Thusthescreamingfaces.”Herubshiseyes.“I’mnotsurethisisagoodidea.”
“Icandoit.”I’mconfidentnowinthefaceofhisdoubt.
Weturnacornernearawarehouseandthenanotherbeforethecarpullsupinfrontofamultistorybuildinginthemiddleofwhatlookslikeanabandonedfield.Withashock,IrealizewhereIam.It’srightbythepathwhereIgorunning.Imusthavepassedthisplaceadozentimesandonlyevernoticedthemicrobrewerynexttoit.ThislackofawarenessofmyownsurroundingssapsmyconfidenceandIgrabSam’sarm.
“You’reright.Let’sleave.”
Heputshishandonmine,Ithinktocomfortme,butinsteadheshakesmeoff.“Toolate.”
Thedooropensandwe’reconfrontedbytwostrangers.MeipreppedmesoIknowtheyaren’tFangli’sacquaintances,andIalsoknowatthismomentthereisnowayonearthI’mgoingtosurvivetonight.
“Showtime,”Samsaysoverhisshoulderandgetsoutofthecar.
Ineedoutofhere,now.Fifteen
Thetwopeoplefromtheartgalleryintroducethemselves,andIdon’tevencatchthenamesbecauseI’mfocusedonmynewplan.IstrokemythroatasImouth“laryngitis.”SamturnswideeyesonmeandIgivehimmysoftestandmostbeseechingFanglismile,theonesheuseswhenshe’sapologizing.Hisreturn—andmuchmoreaggressive—smilesayshe’llcoverformebutwe’regoingtohaveonehellofatalkinprivate.
Samhasagruesomelyexpressiveface.
Ourgreetersburstoutinpoliteworry,andSamstepsmanfullyintothebreach.“Fanglirefusedtostayaway,”hesays.“She’sthrilledtoseetheexhibit,butofcourseyou’llhavetoforgiveherfornotspeaking.Sheneedstorecoverhervoicefortheshowtomorrow.”
ThemandartsawayandIwonderifhe’sofftospreadtheword.There’saphotographeronhandandSamandIposeforsomeshotsbeforegoinginside.MeihadgivenmeinstructionsonFangli’sfavoredpose,andIpointmychindownandtothesidewithaslighttilttomylips.Theshutterclicksrapid-firebesideus,butunlikethescenewithMikeyatthecoffeeshop,Idon’tfeelunderattack.Imightnotbeincontrolofthesituationorhavemuchofacluewhat’sgoingon,butbeingdressedforthepartandwithsomeonewhoknowswhathe’sdoinggivesmeathinfeelingofpower.
Samtouchesmybarearmtotellmewecanstopandleansdowntowhisperinmyear.“Notbad.”
“Highpraise.”Evenwhispered,nervesgivemeasnippytonethatheignores.Thephotographerwasonlyoneoftonight’shurdles.
Thatfamiliarhush-and-buzzcomesovertheroomwhenweenter,andIgivemysuperstarFanglismileaspeoplecomeup.ThefirstfewminutespassbyinablurasIrefuseaglassofwinewithgreatregretandnodmywaythroughmanyintroductionswhileimmediatelyforgettingnamesandfaces.I’malmostblindedbythebeadingondresses,ormoreaccuratelygowns.ThesepeoplearedressedfancieronaTuesdaynightthanI’veseenatweddings,andonewomanischannelingtheexcessesofthe1980swithsequinedshoulderpadsbigenoughforalinebackerandasuffocatingdoseofDior’sPoison.Ican’ttellifit’sherusualstyleoranartisticstatement.
Myjumpsuitseemsalmosttoosedate.ThenIseeawomancastacovetousglanceatmyearringsandfeelbetter.FanglithoughtIlookedgoodandSamconsidersmeacceptable,whichmeansI’mbattingathousand.
Samhoversbesidemetohandleconversations,whichatfirstaresoftballsabouthowwelikethecityandtheunseasonablechillofthesummernight.It’snicetoknowthatevenwithawell-heeledartcrowd,theweatherremainsago-toCanadianconversationstarter.
Asweworkthroughthethrong,Inoticethemanyshinyjewelsdecoratingears,fingers,andthroats.Withastart,IrememberthatFanglioncepaidahalf-milliondollarsforacanvasofhandsinvariousposes.Iaminaroomofpeoplewhoconsideritreasonabletobuyaphotographthatcoststhesameasahouse.
They’reonlypeople,ItrytoremindmyselfasI’mintroducedtoawomanwithpuffylipsandtightskin.Shewearsonlyasinglejewel,alargependantthatI’mathousandpercentsureisnotcubiczirconia.It’sonlymoney.Moneydoesn’tmakeyoubetterormoreworthyofrespect.
Buttheattitudeisdifferentintheroom.SincemyconvenientlaryngitismeansIcan’ttalk,Ilisteninontheconversations.Everysinglepersontherehasanexpectationthatthey’llbeheard.Theyalltakeupspace.Iwatchamanadjusthislapelsbeforehemovesacrosstheroomandhowtheserversmeltoutofhiswaywithoutaword.
ThisiswhySam’snotsureaboutme.IlooklikeFanglibutIhaven’tlearnedhowtocommandaroomlikeshedoes.Becauseofherfame,Fangli—evenwithoutthediamonds—isthecynosureofmostoccasions.Momtoldmebeingthecenterofattentionwastobeavoided.Nowit’smyjobtomakeattentionmybitch
Meididn’taddressthatinparticular,butSamtheMasterisheretolearnfrom.
Keepingmyfacefriendlybutaloof,Iwatchhimandhaveatinyepiphany.It’snotwhatheortherestofthecrowdaresaying.It’showtheyact.I’matthezoowatchingtheanimalsjostlefordominanceandSamisattheapex.Hedecideswhotospeakto.Heneverapproaches;theycometohim.
Buttheylookatmeasifwaitingformetomovefirst.Whenwedogetcloser,theygetalittletooinmyspace.Isitbecausetheysensealackofstrengthinme?WouldtheydothesametotherealFangli?
Ican’taffordself-doubtrightnow.Luckily,escapecomesintheformofthegentlenudgefromSamthatIknowismycuetostartactivelyappreciatingart.Tomypleasure,whatIseeisfarmoreaccessiblethanFangli’scollection,andImovetoamannequinsurroundedbybarbedwiredecoratedwithtwinklingshardsofmirror.Theartisthaswritten“mine”intinylettersoneverycentimeterofthemannequin’sskininahundreddifferentlanguages.Abloodredpoppyrisesfromherhead.Iknowthisisn’tFangli’sstyle—shedoesn’tdoinstallations—butIwalkaroundsoIcanseeitatallanglesandreadthestatement.
Aroundme,thecollectorsaremakingutterlyimpenetrablecomments.It’slikelisteningtoacodedesignedtoweedouttheculturallyignorant.Whichisme,butonlySamandIknowthat.
AsIleanintoseebetter,amanacrosstheroomsquintsatme.IdomybesttocontrolmybreathingbutSamturnsswiftly.“What?”hemurmurs,eyestrainedonmyface.
“Nothing.”Ichannelasloth,movingunhurriedlytoavoidtheattentionofthepotentialpredator.It’shardbecausealmosttheentireroomhasoneeyeonusasifmonitoringourlocationatalltimes.ThestressoftryingtoemulateFangli’spoiseisinpartdrownedbyamoreacuteworry:Ex-managerToddisintheroomacrossfromme.
Ishouldn’tbesurprised;I’veheardhimbragabouthisfather’sartcollection.He’swithablondwomanwhowearsasmilethatneverwaversandIwonderifsheknows,orcares,whatkindofamanheis.IbendintoSamandhecurvesdownovermelikeaherofromhisperioddramas.“Howlongdoweneedtostay?”Iwhisper.
“Atleastanotherhour.”
“Canwegotoanewroom?Isthistheonlyone?”
Inresponse,heputshishandonthebareskinofmybackandguidesmethroughadoorIhadn’tnoticedintoanotherexhibit.I’msodisturbedIbarelyevenclockthewarmcomforthistouchgivesme.Wemightnotbefriends,butinthismoment,he’stheoneinmycorner.Tomyrelief,thenewroomisavideoinstallationwiththelightdimmeduntilit’salmostdifficulttosee.Thecave-likeambiancedeepenswhenIstandnexttothewallandSamcomescloseasifguardingme.
“Gracie,”hemurmurs.“Tellmewhat’shappening.”
Heusedmyname,myrealname.WhenIdon’tanswer,hedrawsmeinandtiltsmychinuptoanalyzemyface.“Doyouneedtoleave?Wecan.”
Ishakemyheadandhefrowns.“You’resure?”
Simplyknowinghe’sthereisenoughtocalmmesinceIdon’tthinkToddwilltrytoapproachmewithanothermanthere.
Thetruthcomescrashingdownonme.I’mnotGracie.I’mWeiFanglirightnowandToddhasnopoweroverme.Hecan’ttouchme.Hecan’tfiremeandhecan’tintimidatemewithouthavingSamortheorganizerstakingaction.I’mprotectedbecauseI’mnowafamouspersonofvalue.I’mseenhere.
ItossmyheadandSamshiftsawayasifgivingmespace.“I’mgood,”Isay
Helooksatmeforalongmoment,thennods.“Itrustyoutotellmeifyouneedout.”
SamfollowsasIexaminethevideos,allfeaturingAnpanman,theJapanesesuperhero.Theartisthasputthecharacter,whohasapastryforahead,infood-basedsituationssuchascookingshowsandgrocerystores.Hisusuallycheerfulfacelooksbyturnsworriedandmenacing.
Fascinated,Ithumbthecontrollertobringupthenextvideo.
“Youlikethese?”Samasks.
Ikeepfacingthescreensonoonecanseemespeaking,thusnegatingmylaryngitisstory.“MydadwentonaworktriptoJapanonceandbroughtmeanAnpanmanfigurethatIloved.Ineversawtheshow.Iguessthey’renotlikethis?”Thevideowe’rewatchingshowsAnpanmantearingoffpartofhisheadtogivetoahungrycatbeforebeingviciouslyattackedbyaflockofseagullsatanoutdoorfoodcourt.
Samleansinbesidemetowatchthevideo.“MuchlessviolentbutAnpanmandoesgivepartsofhisheadawaytopeopleinneed.ThenUncleJambakeshimanewone.”
“Isitselflessifyoucangetanewheadwhenyouneedone?”
Samshrugs,hisarmbrushingagainstmine.“Iknowpeoplewhocouldhavetenheadsrightbesidethemreadytogoandnotgiveacrumb.”
SodoI,atthat.Thevideoendsandwebothturnatthesametime.HisfaceissoclosetominethatifImovedhalfastep…Hiseyesdipfrommyeyestomylipsandashiverywaverollsthroughme.
Icouldmovethatstep.Pricklesrundownthebacksofmythighsfromthetension.Sammightmove.Mighthe?Doeshecomeabitcloser?MyfeetarenailedtothegroundbutinsideI’mwhirlinglikeatornado.
“Mr.Yao?”
SamstandsabruptlywhenhehearshisnameandIblink,hard,andturnbacktoAnpanmanwithunseeingeyes.Thisnightisgivingmethementalequivalentofwhiplashasityanksmebetweenemotionalextremes.ImpersonatingFangli.Todd.Sam,soclosetome.
AfterSam’sconversationfinishes,weleavetheroombymutualsilentagreement,weavinginandoutofthecrowdandonlypausingforSamtoengagewithpeopleeveryfewfeet.NewsofmyvoicelessnessmusthavespreadbecauseI’msparedanychattingbesideshopesthatIgetbettersoon.
Despitemynewfoundconfidence,Idon’twanttomeetwithTodd,soIdomybesttosteerSamaway.It’snerve-rackingtoknowhe’sthere,andmycoretightenssohardIshake.Sam’shandreturnstomywaist,fortifyingme,andthemusclesrelaxenoughtoletmestopclenchingmyteeth.
Exactlyanhourlater,SamtellstheorganizergoodbyeandweposeforafewmorephotoswhichIthinkIhandlelikeapro.We’realmostoutthedoorwhenacallcomesfromasmallgroupnearthetinygiftstore.IttakesmeamomenttoreactsinceIforgotWeiFangliismynametonight.
Iturnwithmymosteffervescentsmile.Theypushforwardayoungwomanwithlongblackhairtiedinaneat,highponytailastheirspokesperson,andsuddenlyIknowI’mnotatallreadyforthefreshhellthat’sabouttoopenbelowme.
DearGod,shetalkstomeinMandarin.Thedarkpittotheunderworldexpandsexponentiallyandflameslicktheedges
“Anautograph?”SamjumpsinwithEnglish.
Theflamesburstovertheedge.DoubledearGod.IhavenoideawhatFangli’swritinglookslikeandthereiszero,andImeanzero,chanceI’llbeabletomanagefakingtheChinesecharacters.Timestopsastheyoungwomanholdsoutanotepadwithhopefuleyes.
IautomaticallytakeitandthenlookaroundforaplacetoputitdownandforgeFangli’ssignature.Whydidn’tIfakeabrokenwrist?Sprainedfinger?SamtalkstomeinChinese,which,sinceitisnotaboutbeinghungryorhowtogettothestore,I’matalosstointerpret.MybrightsmilehurtsmycheeksasItrailSamtoahighcocktailtable
Heputsthenotepaddownandthenstepsbehindme,hidingmefromview.“Pretendyou’rewriting,”hemurmurs.
MyhandtremblesasIdoashesays,butnowit’snotbecauseI’mabouttogetmycoverblownbutbecausehe’spressingagainstme,hishardbodyagainstmine.Iknowit’stohideusfromthegirlswatchingbutmykneesareweak.Icurseandhopehedoesn’tnoticebecauseI’llneverliveitdown.
Hepretendstohandmethepenbut,atthelastminute,dipshishanddowntoquicklyscrawlwhatIassumeisFangli’sname.Thenhegivesmethepen.Ittakeshimmilliseconds.
Ipickupbothandreturnthemtotheswooningfan.ShebowstomeandIautomaticallybowbackbeforegivingthewave—withtherighthandbecauseIpracticedthat—andleave.
Then,oncewe’reinthecar,tomyshame,Iburstintotears.
WithanexcessofempathyIdidn’texpect,Samhandsmeatissueandwaitsuntilthesobssubside.“Youdidwell,”hesays.
“Sorry.”IsnuffleintothetissuesandmoreappearwhenIreachoutmyhand.Iburymyface.
“Wasitthatman?”
Myheadshootsup.“What?”
Samglancesoutthewindowastheshiftingstreetlightstaketurnshidingandhighlightinghisface.“Amanwithabluesuitescortingablondwoman.Hewaswatchingyouandyouwereconcentratingontryingtoavoidhiminstead.”
“Doyouthinkhenoticed?”I’mabitnonplussedthathereadthesituationsowell.
“No,youwereunexpectedlysubtle.”
Good,becausethatwouldbebad.Ifightbackanotherwaveofsickness.ToddfiredmebecauseofthemisidentifiedphotoofFangli.Heknowswelookalike.Whatifhesayssomething?
He’sgotpowerovermeagain.IdebatetellingSambutdecideagainstit.I’llwaitandsee.
Hetwistsintheseatandgivesmeastraightlook.“Whoishe?”
“Myoldmanager.”
“Youdon’tlikehim.”
“Wouldyoulikethepersonwhofiredyou?”
“It’smorethanthat.Icouldtell.”Heraiseshiseyebrows.“Icanreadyou.”
Thisistootruetodebate.“He’sajerkandIdon’tlikehim.”
“Ah.”Samregardsme.“Didherecognizeyou?”
“No.Ididn’twanttogivehimthechancetoseemeupcloseorspeaktome,though.”
“Wise.”
Idabatmyeyeswiththetissue.“Theartwasnice.”
Samexhales.“Ithinkyoumightbetheonlypersontodescribecontemporaryartasnice.”
“Thought-provoking?Evocative?Bleeding-edge?”
“Isthatbetterthancutting-edge?”
“Onestepbeyond.”IhumalinefromtheMadnesssongandhislipstwitchagain.That’sadefinitevictory.“Doyouevergetusedtoit?”Thepillowydarknessofthecar’sinteriormakesiteasiertoask.“Thatattention?”
“I’venevernotknownit.”Sam’svoicewrapsaroundme.“Youknowwhomyparentsare.”
Sam’saugustparentage,amovie-starmotheranddirectorfather,ismentionedinalmosteveryprofile.Hetakesmysilenceasayesandcontinues.“Myparentsaremanywonderfulthingsbuttheybothalsocraveattention.I’vehadcamerasaroundmywholelife.”
Itrytoimaginethat.AllthemisstepsItookdocumentedandcommentedon,alltheterriblehairdaysanddisastrousfashionchoicesloggedforposterityandresurfacedonlisticleseveryfewyears.“Idon’tknowhowyoucope.”
“Idon’tknowanotherwaytolive.”Hedoesn’tsayitwithbitternessbutasafactoflife.
“Whatifyouwanttobealone?”
“Istayinthehouse.It’stheonlyplaceIcanbemyself.”
“Oh.”Lonely.
“You’reimproving.”Hechangesthesubject.Iparsehistoneforaninsult,andeventhoughIcomeupshort,I’msuspiciousofthisseeminggoodwill.
Iclearmythroat.“Thankyou.ForaskingifIwantedtoleaveearlier.”
Heloosenshiscollar.“SeemedlikeasaferoptiontogetyououtofthesituationratherthanwatchyoublowitforFangli.”
Myinsidesshrivel.OfcourseitwasbecauseofFangli.Hewasn’twatchingoutforme,hewasmakingsureIdidn’tscrewitupforher.Iholdmyexpressionundercontrol,unwillingtogivehimtheslightesthintthatImighthavethoughtotherwise,andkeepmytonelight.
“SinceyouthoughtIwasterrible,itdoesn’tseemlikethebarwasveryhigh.”
“Fangli’sbeenbettersinceyou’vebeenhere,”hesays.“She’scalmernowthatshedoesn’thavetoworryaboutgoingout.”
“AboutFangli.”Ipauseanddecidetotaketheplunge.“She’snotokay.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Idon’tknowherverywell.”Ithinkaboutthisandamendit.“Idon’tknowheratallbutIthinkshe’sdepressed.”
Hestiffens.“Whatwouldyouknowaboutit?”
Ipushonbecauseifit’strue,Fanglineedsmorehelpthanhiringabodydouble.“IrememberfeelingthesamewaywhenIwasdiagnosed.Herexpression,it’sthesameIsawinthemirror.”
Samleansforwardtotakeoneofthebottledwatersfromtheholderandcracksitopenwithavicioustwist.“I’veworkedwithNorthAmericansforalongtime,butIcontinuetomarvelatyouropennessinspeakingofsuchthings.”
“Noteveryonecanordoes.”Theworldwouldbeabetterplaceifwedid.
“It’smorethanwouldhappenathome.”Hedrinkshalfthewater.“Thisisnotyourconcern.”
“Ithinkthat—”
“No.Fangliistired,that’sall.”Heshutsmedownandwerideinsilenceuntilthehotel.
Beforewegetout,Imakeonelastattempt.“Youdon’tthinkthat,Sam.Sheneedshelp.”
Hedoesn’tsayanything,andIfixthesmileonmyfaceforthestrangersinthelobbybeforeIgetoutofthecar.Sixteen
SamcomesintomysuiteforadebriefbutIignorehimasItakeoffthenewshoesandwigglemytoeswithpleasureagainstthecoolwoodenfloor.Eventhoughtheywereflat,theypinched.Thatjumpsuitwasadefinitewinner;ImightbuyitoffFanglitokeepformyownwhenthetwomonthsaredonesinceMeiwarnedmeIwouldn’tbeabletowearitagainwhileIwashere.Fanglidoesn’twearthesameoutfittwiceforevents.
“YouneedtopracticeFangli’sautograph,”Samsayswhenhecomesbacktothetablewithwater.“Thatcouldhavebeenbad,andIdon’tknowhowMeiletitslipthroughthecracks.She’susuallysoorganizedandperceptiveaboutwhatneedstobedone.”
Ihavetoagree,eventhoughitbugsmetoadmithe’sright.“Doyouhaveacopyofit?”
“Here.”Hescribblesthreecharactersonasheet,thestronglinesswoopingovereachother.“Wei,there’sherfamilyname.ThenFang,forfragrant,andLiforjasmine.”
ItookMandarininuniversity,andbackthenmypainstakingstrokeswerelikeatoddlerwithacrayoncomparedtothisconfidentscrawl.NowonderIgotaDgrade.Herollsuphissleeves(ding,ding,addthattothehotmanlist),thenshakesthepenatme.Ihitchachairuptothetableandadmirehisforearms.HiswristsarebroadandIrealizeIhavenevernoticedaman’swristsinmylife,letaloneknownIhadapreferenceforbroadoneswithveryslightlyvisibleveins.
Asexpected,myfirstattemptsareterriblebecauseIhaveawfulhandwritinginanylanguageandevenmyownnamelookslikeawigglylinedecoratedwithadotthathoversbetweenthecandtheebutrarelyrightoverthei.Samlooksupfromhisphonetoseemyprogress.
“That’snotverygood,”heobserves.
Ihandhimthepen.“Doitagain,”Isay.“Slower.”
Thistime,IwatchasSamdipsthependownandwritesFangli’snameonthepaper.HehandsthepentomeandIchewonmylipasIanalyzeit.Tracingthecharactersintomusclememorymighthelp,soItrytorememberwhereSamstartedthecharacter.
“Here.”Hetakesmyhandandguidesittothebeginning.HistouchiswarmbutIshiver.
“Ihaveit.”Igrabmyhandback.WhenItracetheline,I’mashamedtoseeit’sshaky.I’mreadingmoreintohiscasualtouchthanhemeans,anditmakesmereactbadly.
“Icandothisonmyown,”Isay,standingupfromthetableandwhackingmythighsagainsttheedge.Ow.BackdownIgo.
“Clearlynot.Sitdownandkeeptrying.”
Thismakesmestiffenandforgetthestripeofpainacrossmylegs.“You’renotmyboss,youknow.Icanhandlethis.”
“Whatwouldyouhavedoneonyourown?Fakealast-minutebrokenwristlikeyoudidasorethroat?”
“Thatwasagoodsolutiontotheproblem.”Or…IcouldhaveexplainedthatI’monlyspeakingEnglishwhileinCanada,likeIwassupposedto.Thepressuremademeforgetwhatwehadplannedforthisexactsituation.
Heshovesbackfromthetable.“Wrong.Youwerehiredtodoajobandyoudidn’tdoit.Meispenthourswithyou,hourssheshouldhavebeenspendingdoinghergoddamnjob,andyouthrewitaway.”
IneverthoughtthatMeialsohadworktodofull-timeforFangli.“Partofherjobistohelpme.”
That’sajerkthingtosay,andIknowitthefuckingseconditcomesoutofmymouth.Embarrassed,Idoubledown,stickmychinout,andgoontheoffensive.“Noneofyoumentionedautographs.Iwasunprepared.”
Helooksatmeinhonestsurprise.“Areyouunabletothinkindependentlyaboutwhatmightcomeupandplanforit?”
“Hey,sorryI’mnotrichandfamous.Peopledon’tgoaroundaskingformyautograph.Youshouldhavetoldme.”
“Thatpeopleaskforautographsisonlycommonsense.”
“NottomeandapparentlynottoMei.”Diggingmyselfindeeper.
“Don’tblameMei.”Samputsonehandonthetable.“You’renoteventrying.Thisismorethanpullingonawig.Youneedtomakeaneffort.Actingiswork,anditdoesn’tmatterifyou’reonthestageorattendingthatparty.”
Sam’saboutameterfrommeandIcanseethemuscleinhisjawtwitching.“Iamtrying,”Igritout.
“Thismatters,”hesnaps.“ItoldFanglithiswasafuckingterribleideabutshewassureyoucoulddoit.”
Iheartheunspokenwordsloudandclear.Lookathowwrongshewas.
“Icandoit.”
“Tonightwasyourchanceandyoufakedlosingyourvoice.”Heshakeshisheadindisbelief.“Howdidyouthinkthatwasareasonablesolution?”
Ilookdownatthetable.“Ilostmynerve,okay?Iadmitit.”
Hedoesn’tgivemethesympathyI’mfishingfor.SamadjustshisjacketandIhavetolookuptoseehisface,whichisstern.“There’snoroomforyoutoloseyournerve.Dobetter.”
Withthat,hebrushespastmeandoutthedoor.Ilungeafterhimandthrowallthreelockssohecan’tgetbackinbecauseIforgottogetthekeyoffhimagain.Rightnow,though,that’stheleastofmyworries.
IripoffthejumpsuitandthrowitintothecornerbeforeIpickitup,smoothingoutthewrinklesinthefabricwithmyhand.Sam’srightandIhatehimforitbecauseithighlightshowIfailed.ItookariskandIscreweditup.That’sallonme,eventhoughIgutlesslytriedtopinitonMei.IwasanidiottothinkIcoulddothis.
ForFangliandSamandMei,thisisrealandithasanimpact.IlikeFangli.I’msorryforher.I’mdeepinthethroesoftheBenjaminFranklineffect—Ilikehermorebecausesheaskedmetodoherafavor.Evenifitwasformoney.
Ithrowmyselfonthebedandstartpeelingthemiserableplasticdisksoffmychest.It’sabaddayformybodyhairbecausemuchlikethefacemaskearlier,theboobsupportersaredoinganexcellentjobofepilatinganyskinthey’vebeenincontactwith.Aftertrudgingtothebathroomanddoublecleansingmyface,Ilookinthemirror.MyfaceandchestarecoveredwithredblotchesandIsigh.
EversinceIhadtoputMomintothehome,I’vemadeapleathereandacreasetheretoorigamimylifetobecomesmallandmanageable.AlthoughIwasneverasboldasAnjali,whooncequitherjobandstartedherownbusinesstoseewhatitwaslike,Iwasbraveenoughtowanttoliveinsteadofsettlingforexisting.BeforeMomgottoosick,Isoughtoutexperiences.NotlikeIwasgoingtobungeejumpoutofaplaneoranything,butItookanartclassandforcedmyselftobesocial.IwentfordinnerbymyselfbecauseIwantedto.IjoinedAnjalionalast-minutetriptoCuba.NobigdealforsomepeoplebutenoughformetofeellikeIwasreachingoutofmymiddle-of-the-roadcomfortzone.NowI’masvulnerableasasnailwithoutashell,aneasymarkfortheToddsoftheworldtocomebyandsprinklesaltonmelikeanunpleasantchildhappytoflexwhatlittlepowertheyhave.
IplodintothebathroomandslatheronavarietyofcreamsbeforeIpullonpajamasandclimbintobed,pullingthecovershighasIgiveintothestressofthenight.SeeingToddhitmeharderthanIthoughtitwould,andnowIhavetheadditionalworryofhopinghedoesn’tcopontowhatI’mdoingforFangli.MymindautomaticallygoestotheZZTVinterviewandMomgettinghoundedinthenursinghomebecauseofherimposterdaughter.Fangli’sreputationintatters.Theendoftheworld,really,becausethat’sthefinaldestinationofeveryjourneyItakedownAnxietyRoad.
Sam’scommentscutdeep,too.Isostupidlythoughtwehadaconnection.NowIseehowwrongIwas,becausetohim,I’mfirstandforemostanemployeewhoisn’tperforminguptoexpectations.Ithoughthechosemeanoutfitbecausehewantedtoseemelookgood,butitwasforFangli.Escortingmecloseenoughtotouchthroughtheartexhibit?Becausethat’swhatpeopleexpectedtosee.Takingmyhandtoguidethepen?Becausehewantedmetolearnthestupidsignature.ThisisajobtohimandIthoughtIwassofabulousthatSamYaomightbehavingfeelingsforme,likesomefairytale.I’devenforgottenthatmysterygirlfriendMeialludedtoandSamhasnevermentioned.
Iburymyfaceinthepillowandhumtotrytodrownouttheremorselessshamethatslicesthroughmyskin,leavingcoldtinglesinitswake.We’veknowneachotherlessthanaweek;whatdoIevenknowabouthim?I’manobodyandhehangsoutwithcelebritiesbecause—newsflash—he’soneofthehottestcommoditiesontheglobe.OfcourseI’mnothingbutatemporarypersoninhislife,nothingspecial.Nobodyunique.Theonlysavinggraceinthisfiascoisthatallthisonlyhappenedinmyhead.SamhasnoideaIwaswonderingaboutkissinghimattheartgallery,andhe’snever,evergoingtofindout.Thisisajob,ashort-termcontract,andI’manutterlydelusionalfoolforthinkingtheSamIsawwastherealmanandnotacharacter.
PlusIhaven’tseenMomindays.Shemustbelonely.Iputoutmyhandformyphone,thinkingthatmaybeIcantextAnjalitotalkmedown,butthenIseethetime.It’slateandIdon’twanttobotherher.
Thetearscomehotandugly.Iburymyfacebackintothepillow,mybreathgaspingassobsrackmybody,forcingmetocurlupwithmykneesclose.Theheatofmybreathcombineswiththetearstostickthewhitecottontomyface.Itonlylastsafewminutes,butbythetimeIpeelthepillowoff,hiccupping,I’mdrained.
Iturnoverthepillowtothedrysideandpullthecoversovermyhead.ThenIgotosleep,tearsleakingoutfromtheeyelidsI’vesqueezedshut.Seventeen
Thenextday,Iwakeearly,rightatdawn,andlieforamomentonthesheetsdebatingwhethertogetuporgobacktosleep.Aftertheemotionaleruptionofthepreviousnight,I’dthoughtmyrestwouldbewreckedbynightmaresbutIsleptbetterthanIhaveinalongtime.Outofhabit,Icheckmyphone.NotextsfromSam,thesameasalways,becausehehasneverthoughtaboutmeasanythingotherthanajob
Right.Getup.
Inthebathroom,Icheckmyskin.Ashoped,theblotchesaregone.Myeyesarelitwithasubtlegoldenlight,anicesideeffectfromthecrying,asifI’vefloodedtheimpuritiesoutofmyeyeballs.Iwashup,andafterIremovethetracesoftearsfrommycheeks,I’mrefreshedinawaythatIhaven’tfeltinawhile.
Backinthemainsuite,Imakeacoffeefromthepodmachineandpulloutmylaptoptotranscribeandorganizeallthenotesaboutmynewtasksystem.Mybreakdownlastnightwasaneye-openerandIfacethecomingdaywithsomethingapproachingzest.FuckSam.HethinksIsuck?I’llshowhim.HethinksI’mnottrying?Screwhim.
FuckTodd,onprinciple.
I’monaroll.Fuckyou,Sam,andyou,Todd,andyou,Mei,formakingconversationhardeventhoughIwasanassholetoblameyouformyshortcomings.Notyou,Fangli.You’reokay.
ImightbefueledbynegativeenergybutItapawaywithfranticfingers,notevengoingbacktocorrectmytyposbecauseIdon’twanttobreakmytrainofthought.IlosemyselfinmyownwordsasIwrite,eachidealeadingtoanotherandconnectingagain.I’msoinvolvedthatIdon’tevennoticeMeienteringtheroom—sinceshecomesfromtheadjoiningsuite,themultipledoorlocksdon’tblockher—untilshesitsbesidemeatthetable.Eventhenittakesmeafewsecondstogetoutofmymindspace.
Shesaysnothingbutputshertabletdownonthetableinfrontofme.Itshowsaphotoofmefromlastnight,andalthoughI’minitiallyrelievedtoseethatIlookexactlylikeFanglibecausemakeupismagic,IcantellfromMei’sfacethestoryisn’taspositiveasitcouldbe.Iskimthetext.
ChinesemegastarWeiFangliwasmissinghermegawattsmilelastnightataprivateexhibitattheMuseumofContemporaryArt.Itmighthavebeenthesorethroatthatpreventedherfromspeaking,butsourcessaythere’stroubleinparadiseinherrumoredlong-timerelationshipwithsuperstarSamYao.BothareinTorontostarringinOperationOblivion,aWorldWarTwodramashowingattheRoyalAlexandraTheatre.
“Whoarethesources?”Iask.ThisisbadnewsbecauseIthoughtSamandIhadbeendoingquitewell,atleastinpublic.
Meisaysnothing,asusual.
Fanglicomesin,hereyeswide.“Whathappened?”shedemands.Whenshesits,herrightlegjigglesupanddowninarapidstaccato.
“Itwasmyfault,”Isay.Fangliisn’therself.
“Ithoughtyousaidyouweregettingalong.”Herlegmovesfaster,andMeishiftshergazetothefloor.
“Weare.”Ilowermyvoicetosootheher.MeimeetsmyeyesbutIcan’ttellwhatshe’sthinkingsoI’monmyown.“Fangli,lookatme.”
ShedoeswithwideeyesthatIdon’tlikethelookof.
“Itwasmyfault,”Irepeatslowly.“I’msorry.I’lldobetter.”
Thisseemstogetthroughbecausethelegshakingslows.
“Itwasanoffnight,”Isay.“IwasnervousbutIknowwhattoexpectnow.Itwon’thappenagain.”
AsIsaythewords,IrealizeImeanthem.Despitethedickishwayhedeliveredthemessage,Samwasright.I’vebeenahalfperson,justdoingtheminimumtogetbybecauseIhaven’thadthespirittodomore,notwithToddandmymomandlife.Idon’twantthatanymore.ItoldFangliI’ddoajobandI’mgoingtodoit,butinmyownway.I’vebeentoopassive,aballoonbuffetedbythewind.
Fangli’sfacedoesn’tchange,butherlegstopsmoving.
“Ineedtovisitmymomthismorning,”Isayinafirmvoice.“I’llbebackbynoonandthenI’mgoingtopracticeyourautographfortwentyminutes.Fangli,areyouheretoday?”
ShelooksatMei,wholooksatme.
Isoldieron.“Ifyou’refreethisafternoon,whenI’mdone,I’llcometoyouandyoucanshowmethewayyou’dactifsomeoneapproachesyousoIknowwhattodo.”
“Ms.Weihasseveralappointmentsbeforeshehastogotothetheater,”saysMei.
“Wecanworkaroundthem.”Iwavemyphoneather.“Sendmeameetinginvitationforanytimeafternoon.”Ifthisisajob,I’mgoingtotreatitasajob.
Fanglibendsherheadandtakesadeepbreath.
“I’llseeyouthisafternoon,”Isay.“Unlessyouwanttocomevisitmymom.”
HerfacebrightensbeforeMeishakesherhead.“Ms.Weihasseveralmeetingsthismorning,”sherepeats.“It’snotwisetoriskphotosofyoutwotogether.”
“Nexttime,then,”Isay.“You’realwayswelcometocome.I’llwearapiratedisguisesonoonewillseetheresemblance.”
ThisisaverybadjokebutFanglidoesmethefavorofsmilingbeforeMeiushersherout.IcheckthetimeandcalculatethatleavingintenminuteswillgivemeplentyoftimetogettoMom’s,stayforacoupleofhours,andheadback.Inthebathroom,Ikeepmyfacebareanddecidewithmyshorthairandpalelips,noonewillseemeasFangli.Idiscovermyoldclothesinthebottomofthechestofdrawersandpullonapairofbaggyjeanswithaloosetank.Accessorizedwithsunglasses,Ilooklikemeagain.
ThenIpickupmyphone.IhaveSam’snumberbecauseMeigaveittomeforemergenciesbutI’veneverusedit.Icouldtexthimtosay…what?Istuffthephoneintomypurseandheadforthedoor.Findingpatheticexcusestoaccidentallybeinthesameplaceortexting“justtosee”isthesametechniqueateenagerwithacrushwoulduseandI’mnotgoingtodothat.Sammadehisstanceclear.
I’llrespectit.It’stimetostepup
***
AsIanticipate,nooneintheXanadulobbylookstwiceatthemessyandunstylishfigurewhopassesthroughonherwaytopublictransportation.Imisstheattention,butonlyabit.
ThenursenodsatmewhenIarrive,judgingmebecauseit’sbeenafewdayssinceI’vebeenby.Isigninandheaddownthehall.Mom’sroutineisstructured,andIhavethetimetableupathomeandsavedasaphotoinmyphone.Teninthemorningmeansfreetime/socialactivitiesbutMomwouldrathergnawoffherownfacethanplaycards,whichisoneoftheonlyactivitiestheyhave,soIpeekinherroomfirst.Tomysurprise,it’sempty.Iquicklychecktomakesureshehascleanclothesandeverythingistidy,thenheadovertothesolarium.
WhenIreachtheroom,IstandbetweentheopenFrenchdoorsandsearchforher.Thesolariumisbusyenough,perhapstenortwelvepeopleallsittingalonewithanewspaperinfrontofthemorlookingoutthewindow.There’snomusicorconversation,andinsidemychest,alittleholewidens.IneedthatmoneyfromFanglisoIcanslapitdownonthetablewhenXinGuangcalls.Itcouldbeanydaynow.I’vebeenonthatlistforever.
IcrosstheroomtoMom,gratefulshedoesn’tneedawheelchair.I’veseensomeoftheotherresidents,theirarmstooweaktorollthemselvesalong,waitingforanurseorvolunteertohaveamomenttotakethemwheretheywanttogo.Momremainsmobileandthat’sgoodnews.
IwanttoburymyfaceinhershoulderthewayIdidasachild.InsteadIreachoutandgiveheragentlehug.Herbonesarelightundermytouchbuthereyescrinklewhenshesmiles,thesameastheyalwaysdo,thedeeplinesradiatingouttohertemples.
“Hi,sweetie,”shesays.Thensheshakesherhead.“Didyoucutyourhair?”
“Doyoulikeit?”
“Aiya.Soshort.”
Shesettlesmeinachairbesideher,andIsitforamomentwithherhandonmyhead.She’salwayshadaverysoftenergy,andIclosemyeyestoletitwashawaythewretchedshameleftoverfromlastnight.Momenergy,man.Whenitworks,itworksgood.
ItalktoheraboutthepeopleIsawonthewayover.ThenIlieaboutworkandtellherit’sthesame-old,same-old,elaboratingabitonsomefakeworkdrama.Shebobsherheadasshelistenstome,butwhenIaskherquestions,sheonlysmilesandstrokesherhanddownmyarm.IchatteronforafewmoreminutesbeforeIlapseintosilence.Theotherpeopleintheroomaresoquietit’slikebeinginagallerysurroundedbysculptures.Whenavolunteercomesintoaskifanyonewantstea,hervoiceechoesoffthewalls.
AfterfetchingsometeaforMomandcoffeeformyself,Igrabanewspaperandstartreadingoutloud.Igoslowlybutdon’tpayattentiontothewordsbecauseI’mthinkingaboutbuildingoutmyplanneragain.IneedtocheckoverwhatIwrotethismorningbutIknowtheidea’sthere.IknowIhaveit.Awarmflushstealsoverme,adeepsatisfactionIhaven’tfeltinalongtime.
ThetwohourspassslowlyandIfetchmorecoffee,moretea,andsomecookies.Momleavestheteatoformascumonthetopasshefocusesonthenothinghappeningoutside.Aroundus,theotherresidentsflowintotheroomandtakepositions.ThateachhastheirownpreferredchairisclearandIwonderwhathappenswhenanobliviousresidenttakesthewrongseat.Probablyacagematch.
IgetMomtolunch,thenheadbacktotheXanaduaftergivingherakiss.Seeingherhascalmedmeandputthisentiresituationinperspective.IknowwhatIneedtodoandI’mnowreadytodoitright.
NooneisinmysuitewhenIarrivebutFangli’svoicecomesfromnextdoor.MeisentmeacalendarinviteforanhourfromnowsoIdon’twastetime.IhavetorummagearoundtofindthepaperSamleftmelastnight,andIspendexactlytwentyminutesrepeatingthesignatureuntilIcanmimicthesmoothstrokeswithoutlooking.Ituckthepaperawaywithpride.Asmallachievementbutdone.Acheckoffmylist.Dopamineachieved.
IhavefortyminutesleftsoIpulloutmylaptoptomakemoresenseofmynotes.I’minthemiddleofsketchingoutavisualforhowmytasklistcouldlookwhenaknockcomesontheinterconnectingdoorbetweenthesuites.MustbeFangli,readyafewminutesearly.Ileavemylaptopupandgotoopenthedoor.
Samstandsthere,handsplacedelegantlyinpockets,excellentwristsrevealed
IstriveforaneutralexpressionasIstepbackandgestureforhimtocomein.Professional.Politeanddistantinthewaynewcolleaguesshouldbe.“Ithoughtyouwerebusytoday.”Wedon’thaveaneventforacoupleofdays.MeisentmeaslewofcalendarinviteswhileIwaswithMomthatIreadoversoIknewwhatwascomingbeforeacceptingrat-a-tat
“IfinishedearlyandIdon’tneedtobeatthetheateruntillater.”Herunshishandthroughhiswavyblackhairanditfallsbackintohiseyesexactlyasitwas,coveringthethick,straightbrows.“Fangliisupsetbecauseofourfightlastnight.”
He’sherebecauseofFangli.Itrynottoresentit.“Itoldheritwasfine.”
“Good.”Hehesitatesandthenglancesoverhisshoulder.IpeekoverandseeMeistandingaloneinthemiddleofFangli’ssuite,watchingus.
Samclosesthedoorandspiesmylaptop,whichIshutdown.“Whatareyouworkingon?”
“NotesonwhatI’mdoingheresoIcansellthemtothehighestbidderwhenIleave.”
HestaresatmewithwideeyesandIrubthebackofmyneck.
“Givemeabreak,”Isay.“It’sapersonalprojectthathasnothingtodowithyou,becauseyouknowwhat?I’vehadnothingtodowithyouformostofmylife.”
There’sabriefsilenceandSamrocksforward,handsinhispockets.“Wemighthavegottenoffonthewrongfoot,”hesays.
“We?”Thisisanimpressivelybroadstatement.“Might?”
Hesitsdown.“Iwasinthewrong.”
“What?”Isitdownaswellandpushmylaptoptotheside.TheusualsharpnessismissingfromSam’svoiceandIthinkI’mtalkingtotherealman,acreatureaselusiveasacryptid.
He’snotlookingatmebutsomewhereovermyshoulder.“IwasangryinthecarlastnightandItookitoutonyou.”
“Youwereright,”Isay.Ienduplookingoverhisshoulderaswell,outtowardthelake.“Iwasn’ttakingthisseriously,butIwill.”
“You’renotdoingbadly,”hesays.“Don’tgetmewrong,thefakesorethroatwasanappallingidea,butgenerallyyou’retrying.”Nowoureyesmeetandhisskimaway.“It’swhatyousaidinthecar.AboutFangli.”
Iwanttointerruptbutitwouldonlybetohearmyownvoice.InsteadIstayquietbecauseSamisstrugglingandIdon’twanttosilencehim.
“You’reright.Fangliissick.”Alightflushgoesupfromhisthroat.“Notphysically.Inhermind.”
“Whatisit?”
“Shegetspanicattacks.Badones,whereshecan’ttellwhat’srealandwhat’snot.Shestartedgettingthemwhenwewerestudents.”Hepauses.“Itcanmakehertooanxioustoworkandshewon’ttalkaboutitmuch.Hermanagertoldhertokeepitquiet,saidnoonewantstothinkthatWeiFangliiscrazy.Shedoesn’teither.Itfrightensher.”
Thebitternessinhisvoiceconfirmsthetruth.“Whathasshebeendoing?”
“Acupuncture.Diet.”Hesighs.“ItalkedherintoworkingtheshowinCanadabecauseIthoughtanewenvironmentmighthelpeaseherintotalkingtosomeoneandgettinghelp.Shecan’tdothatbackhome.Shefeelstoomuchshame.”
“It’sgettingworse?”
Hedropshishandsdownbetweenhislegsandlowershishead.“She’sstruggling.She’sdesperatetohideitfromeveryoneandI’mtheonlypersonshecantalkto.I’msousedtoprotectinghersecretthattohearyousayitmademeoverreact.”
“Sheneedstotalktoatherapist,adoctor.Therearemedicationsthathelp.”Ihesitate.“I’monthem.”
Hiseyesflashbacktome.“What?”
“Ihavepanic,too.Depression.Istartedtakingmedstwoyearsago.”It’shardtotalkabout.IknowithappensandIknowit’snotuncommon,Ireallydo,butpartofmestillthinksbeingonmedicationseemsweak,likeIcan’tdeal.Iknowit’swrong,butinmyhead,it’sawillpowerissue,notabrainchemicalissue.
Hisgriniswry.“Soundslikeyou’resimilarinmorewaysthanappearance.”
“HowcanIhelpher?”
“Iwasn’tlyinglastnightwhenIsaidyoubeingherewashelpingher.She’smanagingbetter.”
Imakeadecision.Iholdoutmyhand,palmraised.“Let’sstartover.InsteadofyouthinkingI’mahopelessfailureandmethinkingyou’reanarroganttwo-dimensionaldouchebag,let’sbeGracieandSam,doingajobtogether.”
“Ineversaidyouwerethat,”heprotests.Thenhepauses.“Holdon.That’showyouseeme?”
Istarepointedlyatmyhandinanswer.
“I’msorry.”Hetakesmyhandbrieflyandletsitgo.“ItookmyangeroutonyoubecauseIcouldn’tstopthisplanofFangli’sfromhappening.Itwasadickmove,asIthinkyouwouldcallit.”
“Iwould,”Iagreewithequanimity.
“Right,okay.Gladwegotthatsorted.”
“Hi,Sam,”Isay.“Nicetomeetyou.”
Thistime,he’stheonewhoreachesouthishand.“Gracie.Ilookforwardtoourpartnership.”
Whenweshake,I’mnottouchingSamYao,famousmoviestar.He’sonlySam.
ASamwhobecomesawkwardwhenourhandsrelease.Helooksdown,flexinghisfingersandfrowning.“Wheredowegofromhere?”heasks.
Hisopenuncertaintyiscomfortinginoneway—it’snicetoseehe’sonlyhuman—butalsodisturbinginthatatleastoneofusshouldknowhowthehelltonavigatethissituation.
Thatpersonwillhavetobeme.
“Wekeepworkingbutwedoittogether,”Idecide.“I’lltellyouifIneedhelpinsteadofavoidingthesituation.”
“I’lltrytolisten.”
“Sam.”
“Iwilllisten,”hesays.
IpulloutapaperandhewatchesasIwrite.AlthoughIcanseehimalmostvibratingwithcuriosity,hewaitsuntilI’mready.Ihandoverthesheetandhereadsoutloudinhislowvoice.
“‘Thisagreement(the‘Agreement’)datedonthis26thdayofJunelaysouttheworkingarrangement(‘Arrangement’)ofSamYaoandGracieReed.’”Herehelooksup.“Isthelegallanguagenecessary?”
“Makesitbinding.”
Samgoesbacktothesheet.
“‘Bothpartiessolemnlyswearto:One.Treateachotherwiththerespectduetoaworkcolleague,’”hereads.“Whydidyounumberitifyouonlyhaveonerule?”
“Youcanaddmore,”Isay.“Everythingelseseemedredundant.”
Hethinksforawhile,thenshrugs.“You’reprobablyright.”Hesignswithaflourishandhandsitover.Isignandfoldthepaper.
“Nowit’sofficial,”Isay.“We’repartners.”
Hegrins,alopsidedexpressionthatsoonturnsintoaboisterouslaugh.“You’resomethingelse,GracieReed.”
Ican’thelpbutsmileback.Ithinkhemightberight.Eighteen
ThenexttwodaysareaneasyscheduleIenjoy.IsettlemyseverancewithGarnetBrothersandsetupanin-boxrulesoallmessageswithagarnetbrothers.comemailgostraighttoFredtheLawyer.Ihadn’trealizedhowmuchIdreadedopeningmyemailandseeingonefromTodd.
IdevotemostofmydaystoFanglipracticeandthistimeIdoitright,listingallthewaysshecouldbeapproachedandmyplannedresponses.Ifsomeonecomesuptomeonthestreet.Inthewashroom.Wantsaphoto.Wantsaselfie,anautograph.IgoonabingeofFanglicontentuntilI’mabletoparrothermannerismstothepointthatIslipintomyFanglipersonaevenwhenI’mnotinpublic.Samassuresmeithappenstohimwhenhegetsdeepintoarole.
BecauseSam,tomyuttersurprise,hasbecomeinvaluable.Wheneverhe’snotatthetheater,wepracticeuntilitfeelslikesecondnaturetoturntohimwithasmileandtoseehisaffectionatelook.Evenifit’snotanact,I’mnolongersonaiveanddesperatetoseeitforanythingbutwhatitis:supportforafriend.He’sdoingthisforFangliandhercareer.I’monlyatool.ThishurtslessthanIthoughtitwould,probablybecausenowthatIthinkaboutit,theideaofsweepingSamYaooffhisfeetwithmyjoblessnessandlackoffameissolaughable.
It’stoobadthathisnewfriendlinessmakeshimmoreappealing.Notphysically,becauseyoucan’timproveonperfection,butsimplyasaperson.ThisSamisn’tcoldanddistantbutgoofyandcharming.He’saddictedto1990sBritpopandsangallofOasis’s“Wonderwall”withmeoneeveningtoFangli’sgreatdelight,completewithoverlyemotiveairguitar.
Hisjokesareterrible,likeonthelevelofdadjokes,whichisrevealedwhenheseesmejottingdownsomenotes.“Gracie,doyouknowwhyyoushouldn’twritewithabrokenpencil?”
“What?”What’shetalkingabout?
“Becauseit’spointless.Haveyouheardtheoneaboutthesheetofpaper?”
“Sam,areyouokay?”
“Actually,it’sprettytearable.”Withabeatificsmile,heturnsaway,happytohavedeliveredtwooftheworstjokesintheworld.
He’safuckingamazingdancer,whichIfindoutbyaccidentonedaywhenItrytofigureouthowtodoafaddanceIsawonsocialmedia.HewatcheditthroughonceandthenrepeateditflawlesslyasIgapedathim.
Heshruggeditoff.“MymothersaysIhavegoodbodilykinestheticintelligence.Fromher,naturally.”
“There’snowayIcandothat.”
“Sureyoucan.It’sallinthehips.”
Onlyafterhespendsafutilefiveminutestryingtoteachmetodoabodyrolldoeshegiveup.ThankGod,becauseifIhadtowatchhimthrusthishipsatmewhiletracinghishandsdownhisdistressinglytonedchestonemoretimeIwouldhaveexploded.Hedoesn’tnoticetheimpacthe’shavingandsitsonthecouch.“Whatwereyoudoingbeforetryingtodance?”
“WatchingThePearlLotusagain.”IdecidedthatitwouldbegoodtohaveanotherviewingnowthatIwasalittlemoreusedtobeingFangli.
“MayIjoinyou?”ThisSam,too,isscrupulouslypolitecomparedtotheoldone.
“Sure,butyouhavetotellmethebehind-the-scenesgossip.”Istartthemovie,thenpauseit.“Doyoufinditstrangetowatchyourselfon-screen?”
“Ineverusedtowatchmyownmovies,”hesays.“Doyouwantpopcorn?”
“Yes.”HegetsuptonukeabagandIwaitforhimtocontinue.“Well?”
“Well,what?”Sambendsdowntoopenacabinetforbowls.
“Acting.Watchingyourself.Youneverusedtobutyoudonow?”
“It’sanincrediblyuncomfortableexperience,”hesaysassharplittlepopscomefromthemicrowave.“Everyscenecanbeimprovedbutthereitis,forever.Myidiotexpressions.HowstupidIlookinacostume.Icouldn’tstanditforages.”
“Whatchanged?”
“MyfriendChenpointedoutthatifIneverseemyownwork,Icanneverimprove.Itmadesenseandit’sbecomeeasier.”Themicrowavedingsandhegrabsthebag,swearingwhenheopensitandthesteamburnshishand.“Thatbeingsaid,it’shardwhenI’msittingwithsomeonetakingthemickey.”
“Takingthewhat?”
“It’satermmytutorused.Itmeanstomakefunofsomeone.”
“Iwouldnever!”I’maffrontedhethinksmethatmean.
Sambringsovertwobowlsandhandsmeone.“Abitofajoke…Iknowyouwouldn’t.”
Westartthemovieagain,andafewminuteslater,hepausesit.“Doyouseethat?”
Isquintatthescene,whichtakesplaceinthethroneroomunderagoldendragonwithrubyeyes.“IsthataStarbuckscup?”
“Noonewouldadmittoleavingitthere.”
“Itwasyours,wasn’tit?”
Whenhelaughs,hiswholefacelightsupwithmischief.“Thattrendedonsocialmediafordays.Icouldn’ttellanyone.Tooembarrassed.”Thenhepatshispocketandpullsouthisvibratingphone.Hisfacehardensandheverydecisivelyrejectsthecall.
Heseesmelooking.“Mymother,”hesays.
Idosomeroughmentalcalculations.“Isn’titfiveinthemorningorsomethinginBeijing?”
“Morelikethreebutmymotherisnotlimitedbythingssuchastimezoneswhenitcomestotryingtocontrolmylife.”
HearingSamhastroublewithhismomhitsmethesamewayitdidwhenIsawmyteacherinthegrocerystoreasakid—almostdisconcertinglyintimate.“What’sup?”
“Nothing.”
Mynosinessknowsnobounds.“I’lltellyouaboutmysecretproject.”
Samquirkshiseyebrow.“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
“It’scalledEppy.There’sateaser.”
Samgivesin.“Youknowwhomymotheris.”
“LuLili.Weusedtowatchhermovies.”
“Myfather.”
“RenShu,thedirector.”
“Right.Mymotherisaforce.”Hegrimaces.“I’vebeenintwenty-threemovies.I’vebeenactingforoverfifteenyears.I’moneofthehighestpaidactorsinChina,andnevertheless,attheageofthirty,Ifeeltheneedforherapproval.”
“Moms,”Isay.
“Moms,”heagrees.“Shewantsmetoquitactingandjoinmyfather’sentertainmentcompany.”
“Asanactor?”
“GroomedtobetheCEO,likehim.It’smydutyasagoodson.”
“Thatsoundsverydynastic.”
“Itis.”Hedrinkswithaclosedface.“WhatLuLiliwants,shegets.Shehasenoughinfluencetopreventothercompaniesfromhiringme,andshewouldbeconfidentit’sformyowngood.”
“Youdon’twantto?”
“We’redifferentpeople,”hesayswithvehemence.“Differentambitions.Shedoesn’tunderstandthat.It’sbecauseshelovesus,butshealsohasnoboundaries.”
Ileanbackintothecouchandpullmylegsup.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
Hepointstothephone.“Avoidhercalls.”
“Notthebestlong-termplan.”
“It’sworkedsofar.”Hedoesthatheadtilt.“Whatdoyousuggest?”
“Haveyoutriedtellingherhowyoufeel?”
Samlookslegitimatelyhorrified.“Wearenotfeelingspeople.”
“Mightbetimetostartunlessyouwanttokeepignoringyourownmotherbecauseyou’rescaredtohaveaconversation.Atagethirty.”
“I’mnotscared.”
IthrowapillowathimandthenmarvelathowateaseIam.“Don’tlie.”
“Youdon’tknowmymother.”
“Iknowmymother.”
“Youhavealotofheart-to-heartswithher?”
“No,”Iadmit.“IwishIhad.DoasIsay,notasIdo.”
“Thanks.”
Heturnsthemoviebackonandwewatchinsilenceforafewminutes.Thenhestopsitagain.“TellmeaboutthisEppy.”
Whyisitsodifficulttotalkaboutthethingsthatareimportanttoyou?Iunderstandinthegrandschemeoflife,creatingato-dolistthatworksisnotonthesamelevelasfixingclimatechange,buttome,perfectingthislistisaThing.Samhasturnedtomewithhiswholebodyandhe’sleaningforwardasifhe’sinterested.
Ideflect.“JustsomethingI’mworkingon.”
WhenIfreezehimout,theatmospherechangesbetweenus.Hepullsback,andbecauseI’mafuckingpeoplepleaser,Icrumble.“It’sato-dolist,”Iblurtout.
Aslightlineappearsbetweenhiseyes.“Oftasksyouneedtodo?”
“No,howtoorganizeone.Aplanningmethod.NoneoftheonesI’vetriedworkformesoI’mcreatingmyown.”Thissoundsstupid.Ipickattheseamofthecouch.
Thelinefadesashiseyeswiden.“Likebulletjournals?”
Myturntogetbig-eyed.“Youlikelists?”
Inreply,hepullsouthisphoneandshowsmeanentirefolderofproductivitytools.“Myassistant,Deng,gotmeintothembutIhaven’tfoundtherightone.”
“Meneither.”
“Youdecidedtomakeyourown.”Hesmiles.“Eppy.Ilikeit.Iwouldneverhavethoughtofcreatingmyownsystem.”
It’shardlyevenacomplimentbuthistonemakesmegored.“It’snothing,”Imumble.“Nobigdeal.”
“Whynot?Yousawaproblemandyou’refixingit.Mostpeoplewouldworkaroundit.”
“Ihaven’tgottenveryfar.”
Thelinereturns.“Thereareenoughpeopleintheworldreadytoputyoudown.Doyouneedtojointhem?”
Hiswordshitmeinthegut.“Isthatyourmotto?”
Sampicksupthepopcornbowlandlooksintoit.Becausewearehavingaseriousconversation,Itrynottonoticethesharpangleofhisfacedownfromhischeekbonetohischinbutman,it’shard.“Ithastobe.EverythingIdoiscriticized.WhatIwear.WhoIdate.MovierolesandhowIdointhem.”
Ofcourse.“Howdoyoucope?”
“Idon’treadthereviews.Goodorbad.”Hepassesmethebowl.“Willyouletmebetatestit?”
“Youwantto?”ThisgivesmeahugerushthatIcan’thide.
Helaughs.“Achancetoorganizemylife?Youbet.”ThenheturnsthemovieonandIsitback,almosttoohappy.Nineteen
ImakeaneffortwithFangli.I’mnotcomfortabletalkingtoherabouthermentalhealthstraighton,butonenightwhenshecomesover,ImentionthatIforgottotakemymedicationandletherseemeswallowapill.
“Areyousick?”sheaskswithconcern
Itrytorespondcasually.“Ihavedepressionandpanic.TheseSSRIshelpcalmmedownbecausetheyadjustmybrainchemistry.”
Hereyeswiden.“What?”
“I’vehaditalongtime,butIonlystarteddealingwithitacoupleofyearsago,”Isay.“ItwashardformetoadmitIneededhelp.”Tryexcruciating,butI’mtryingtomakeitsoundeasierforFangli,likethisissomethingshecando.
Shedoesn’treplyforamoment,thensays,“I’dliketogoforawalk.”
Itakethehint.“Youshould.Freshairisgood.”
“Idon’tknowthecityverywell.Igetdriveneverywhere.”
“Let’sgotogether,”Isaysuddenly.“We’llgotoashittydivebarwherenoonewillexpectyou.Youcanwearmyclothes.”
Shelookstorn.“I’mnotsureit’sagoodidea.Someonemightgetaphoto.”
Ithink.“Whatifwegetreadyandyoutakealookatyourself?Wewon’tgounlessyou’recomfortable.”
Fanglilooksoutatthedarknightthroughthewindow.“It’llbehardtoseemyfaceonthestreet,”shesaysasifconvincingherself.
Ipullapairofjeansandatanktopoutofmydrawer.“Here.”
Shegrinsandtrotsawaywiththeclothes.Whenshecomesbackfiveminuteslater,Ihavetolaugh.She’saddedabelt,tiedtheshirtwithasmallknot,andaddedheels.Shelooksfantastic.
“Close.”IfixtheshirtintoamessyFrenchtuckandgiveherapairofmyflatsandalsandahat.“Nomakeup.”
“Notevenlipstick?”
“Usethis.”It’satintedlipbalm.
Whenwestandsidebyside,welookalmostlikesisters,butthere’snowayanaveragepersonwillmistaketheslight,ponytailedandbare-facedwomanintheballcapforafilmstar,atleastnotinToronto.“Looksgoodtome,”Isay.
“Let’sdoit.”Shehasapinkflushonhercheeks.“We’llwanderaroundwithacoffeefromtheStarbucks.”
“I’llgodownfirstandwaitforyououtsidethelobbydoors,justincase,”Isay.“Thelobby’stheworstpartforpeoplewatchingwho’scominginandout.”
Fanglinodsasshetakesthelittlecross-bodybagIgiveher.WithmyshorthairandminimalmakeupIlooklikenooneinparticular,soIstrollthroughthelobbywithoutanissue.Fanglijoinsmeandwehitthestreets.
IdecidetoditchthedivebarideaandtakeherupYongeStreet,whichisonlyafewminutesfromthehotel.Itapinourcoffeeordersforthemobilepickup,andsoonFangliislivingthedreamofsippingadecafAmericanoasshewalksupadirtysidewalk.Sinceit’ssummer,therearepeoplemillingaround,andexceptforaguywhowalksinfrontofustosay,“Hubba-hubba,”Fangliisthrilledtodiscovernoonegivesashitwhosheis.
“What’sitlikeforyoubackhome?”Iask.“Canyouwalkaroundlikethis?”
Sheshakesherheadsohardherhatfallsoff.“Ihaveadriverandsecurity.”
“Eventogotothestore?”
Fangliwaveshercoffeeatme.“Idon’tgotothestore.It’snotsafeformeorpeoplearoundme.Igetmobbed.”
“Butnothere.”
Shegrins.“I’mnotaspopularhere.It’sapleasure.”
Itrytoimaginebeingthisfamous.“Doyoulikeit?”
“It’snotamatteroflikeornot.It’swhatitis.IneedtoactbecauseIwanttoberememberedforsomething,forthislifetomeansomething.”Sheshrugs.“IcandowhatIloveandmakemoneyatit.HowcanIcomplainthatIcan’tgogetcoffeewheneverIwant?”
WepassadrugstoreandFanglipausestolookatasignpromotingasaleonTrident.“Doyouneedsomegum?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.“Ihaven’tchewedguminyears.Mymanagerforbadeit.Itlooksinelegant.”
ImaginebeingforbiddenastickofJuicyFruit.“Tonight’sforyou,”Isay.“Gonuts.”
Weduckin.IleaveFanglideliberatingoverthecandydisplay—howaretheresomanygumflavorsintheworld?—andlookaround.It’sabigstore,withahigh-endcosmeticscounter.IhaveallIneedbackatthehotel,butmyeyeslingeronthelipsticks.ThelastoneIboughtwastheunflatteringneutralIgotforGarnetBrothers.
“CanIhelpyouwithsomething?”Asalesassociatecomesoverwithapracticedsmile.
“No,thanks.I’monlybrowsing.”
“Ofcourse.I’mrighthereifyouneedme.”
Sheheadsovertoorganizeashelfofconcealers.InfrontofmeareashinylineofDiorsinlittleblackandsilvercases.Theylooksleekandchic,andinthelastrow,onthefarleft,isadeepoxbloodshade.It’sdarkerandedgierthanthebrighterredsIusedtowearandInowwearasFangli,butIcan’ttakemyeyesoffit.
“Excuseme.”Thewomanturnsbackaroundatmycall.“Sorry,canIgetthatlipstick?”
“Sure.”Sheopensawidedrawerandgrabsit.“I’llcashyouout.”
AfterIsufferamomentaryheartattackbecausesincewhenhaslipstickcostfiftybucks,IjoinFangliatthefrontofthestorewhereitlookslikeshe’sbuyingoneofeverygumondisplay.Notquiteunder-the-radarbehaviorbutshe’ssohappyIdon’tmentionit.
Mynewpurchaseistuckedsafelyinmypurse,asecretthatgivesmeasmuchjoyasFangliseemstobegettingfromthegum.It’ssuchasmallthing,thatlittletubeinmypurse,butit’ssobigatthesametime.It’smine.
Fanglifinishesscanningheritemsattheself-checkout.Whenweleave,sheswingsherbaglikeakidwithanewtoy.
“Wantsome?”sheasks,diggingintothebag.
Iholdupmycoffee.“Later.”
Aroarcomesfromthecrowdahead;there’saconcertatYonge-DundasSquare.“Wanttocheckitout?”Iask.Itsoundsfun.
Fangli’sfaceislongingbuthesitant.“Willitbesafe?”
“Sure.We’llstayontheedgesowedon’tgetsquishedinthecrowd.”
Thiseasesherconcern.Themusicisn’tcrazyloud,andontheedges,peoplearedancingandsmoking.Fanglistaresaroundwithwideeyes.Mostofthepeopleareintheirtwentiesandtheycoverallstyles.“Everyoneisdifferent,”shemarvels.“Thecrowdissosmall.”
Itrytoseeitfromherperspective.“HowmanypeopleliveinBeijing?”Iask.
“Overtwentymillion.”
AbouttentimesthesizeofToronto.Ican’tevencomprehendhowbigthatis.There’sachurrotrucknearby,soIgrabacouple.Wegetcoveredinsugar,lickdulcedelecheoffourfingers,andshoutoutthechorustothesong,oratleastwhatwethinkarethewords.It’sfununtilIpulloutmyphonetocheckthetimeandseearowofincreasinglyfrantictextsfromSam.
Whereareyou?
AreyouwithFangli?
Thenvariationsonthisforthelasthour.Hemusthavecomebyrightafterweleft.Thefinalmessagesoundslikehe’sabouttocallthepolicesoIshoothimaquickreply.
We’reonawalk.Allgood.
Thesetendsandpeoplecheer.Fangliturnstomewithshiningeyes,hardlylookingadayovertwenty.“Thatwasamazing.”
YongeStreet’snowpackedwiththedispersingcrowd,someyellingoutthelyricsinacall-and-responsethatechoesupthestreet,soIleadherovertoDundasStreetandthendownthroughNathanPhillipsSquare,wherewewalkupthewindingconcretepathtothegreenroof.It’slockedsowecan’tgoin,butwestandonthecityhallbalconyandhangourhandsovertheedge,theconcreteroughunderourarms.“I’dforgottenwhatitwasliketobearoundpeopleenjoyingtheirlives,”shesays.
“Whataboutwhenyougohome?”
Shesnorts.“Myfather’slifeishiswork.Imightaswellbeatmyownplace.”
“Surelyyouhavefriends.”Actorsarepeople,forcryingoutloud.
“Allactorsorintheindustry.”Sherunsherhandsoverherarms.“Wecan’tescapeeachother.AllofmyfriendsImadeinschool…Ifelloutoftouchwiththem.”
“WhataboutChen,theguyyouhadacrushon?”
“Onlyasmallcrush.Him,too,andit’shardtomeetnewpeople.Idon’tknowwhattheywantfromme,andIworksomuchIcan’tgivethemthetimetheydeserve.”Shespeaksmatter-of-factlyandthenglancesatthedarksky.“Weshouldheadback.”
IcheckmyphoneandseeImissedatextfromSam.CanIjoinyou?
Damn,hemustbereallyworriedaboutFangliifhe’swillingtobeseenwithbothofus.Ishovedownthewistfulthoughtofhimworryingaboutmeonedayandtypeoutaresponse.We’reonourwaybacknow.
WewalkbythefountainpoolandarealmostatBayStreetwhenIsay,“Whydon’tyouemailhim?”
“Who?”Fangliislookingcuriouslyatherreflectioninthedarkwindow.“Idon’tlooklikemeatall.”
“Chen.”
Sheshrugs.“Why?Anotherpersontoignoreformycareer?”
I’mnotherapistbutIpoweron.“Itcouldbethat.Oryoumightfindsomeonetotalkto.”
“Thatdoesn’tworkoutforme.”Shesoundsdefeated.“Ineedtobealonetoomuch.”
Iwon’tfightheronit,notwantingtowreckthevibetonight,soItellheraboutanepicallybadholidaypartyIenduredatarestaurantaswepassit.“NooneknewthedrinksweredoublesandtheCEOdidacancandanceonthebar.Peopleweremakingoutallovertheplace.”
Fangli’sholdingherstomach,wheezingwithlaughter.“Thenwhat?”
“TheCEOslippedintheguacamoleandputhisbackout.Didn’tcometoworkforaweek,butthenextday,wegotanall-staffemailaboutnomorealcoholatcompanyparties.”Ipause.“Twoofthecouplesmakingoutgotmarried,though.”
Wegiggleinintermittentburstsallthewaytothehotel.FangligoesupfirstasIhitaconveniencestoretograbsomechips.ThechurrowhetmyappetiteandIwanttobalancethesweetwithsalt.
Aknockonthedoorcomesafterwegetin,andIopenittorevealSam.HelooksseriousbutwhenheseesFangli,allthetensionmeltsoutofhim.Hecomesinandrummagesinthefridgeforabeer.“Didyouhavefun?”
FanglichatterstohiminMandarinasIopenthechipsandtakethebeerSamholdsoutforme.Iguesshe’sforgivenmebecausehesmilesashetakesthechipsIpassovertohim.It’sagoodnight,Icongratulatemyself,lookingatFangli.Shehasgum.IhavemyDior.
We’rebothhappy.Twenty
I’mridinghighonmysuccessoftheothernightandmutteringalongtomyMandarinappasIsitonthecouchdrinkingcoffee.HowItookthislanguageinuniversityforthreeyearsandnotathinghasstuckinmymemory,Idon’tunderstand.IwasneverclosetofluentbutnowIevenneedtorefreshmynumbers.Yi.Er.San.Si.Wu.Liu.Qi,ba,jiu,shi.Onetoten,thenit’sallverylogical.Elevenisten-one.Twentyistwo-tenandtwenty-oneistwo-ten-one.Noneofthisteenstufforaddingy’s.
IthinkMalcolmGladwellmighthavewrittenabouthowitslogicmakesforeasiermath,andI’mabouttodoaGooglesearchwhenIdecidethat’sprocrastinationandreturntolearningthenumbersinsteadoflearningaboutthem.IwishMomhadspokenChinesetomeathome,butsherefused.Untilherdementiahit,I’drarelyheardherspeakitatall.Thepastinthepastandallthat.
SamandIhaveaneventtonightandI’vealreadydecidedtodividemydaybetweenlearningaboutthemainlandChinesefilmindustry—backgroundresearch,Ishouldknowthemainplayers—andworkingonEppy.LastnightasIwasfallingasleep,SamtextedmeathoughtthatlaunchedaseriesofincreasinglygoodideasandI’mitchingtogetthemorganized.
That’sright.SamtextedmeaboutEppy.He’sbeentextingmeoffandonoverthelastfewdaysandnotonlywhenhe’sworriedaboutFangli.Idomybestnottoreadintoitbutit’shard.SeeingatextfromSammakesmyheartthumpandIwishIcouldgetpastthisreactionsoIcanbetheneutralfriendhe’sclearlydecidedIam.Friendsisbetterthannothing,andfareasierthanadversaries.
Myphonelightsupwithamessageandagainmyheartbangsbecauseit’sfromSam.
I’minthehall.
Atleasthedidn’tsimplystrollinlikeusual.Ineedtogetthatkey,though.IdoanemotionalcheckandamhappytonotemyheartratehassubsidedandIdon’thaveanyquiversorinterferinglystrongfeelings.Ihaveacceptedthatthisisajob.Goodforme,veryreasonable.
ThislastsaslongasittakesmetoopenthedoorandseeSamchannelingcasualdojo,withloosepantsandslidesmatchedwithanoversizeT-shirt.Hisoutfitcouldcostanywherefrom$100to$10,000andIwouldn’tbesurprised.Istepasideandhecomesin.
“Ithoughtyouwerebusytoday.”
“We’regoingforawalk,”hesays.
“No,we’renot,”Isay.“FangliisoutatanappointmentandIcan’tbeseenwithyouatthesametime.”EvenifIgowithhimwithoutmyFanglidisguise,Iresemblehertoomuchtonotcausequestionsifcaughtbyaphotographer.
“Right.”Hegoestothewindowandstaresout.“Iwanttoseethecity.Myskinitchestogetoutofhere.”
SamhaschangedtowardmesinceourtalkaboutFangli,andit’sarelieftobeabletoletdownmyguardaroundhim.“Wehaveafilmpremieretonight.”Ialreadyhadtopracticegoingfromstandingtosittinginthedress,whichisastunner.
Hemakesarudegesture.“Beingstuckinatheater.”
“Aren’tyoubusy?”Irepeatthequestionsincehehasn’tanswered.
“Finishedearly.”Hedoesn’tturnaroundbutrollshisneckasiftryingtogetridofakink.
“Didsomethinghappen?”
“No.”
Iwalkovertojoinhimatthewindow.Hesmellsgood,thatsamechipped-stonefragrance.It’sacool,overcastdayandthewindhaswhippedupsmallwhite-tippedwavesonthesurfaceofthelake.IopentheslidingbalconydoortoletthebreezedriftinandSamcloseshiseyes.
Hisrestlessnessaffectsmeaswell.“Whatdoyouusuallydotorelax?”
“Workout.WatchYouTube.PlayCandyCrush.”
“Whatlevel?”
Heglancesathisphone.“Threehundredandeighty.”
“I’mfourninety-two.”
Thismakeshimfrowncompetitively.Igetanidea.“Whatifwegotothearcadeneartheaquarium?Youwearahatandsomethingless”—Iwavemyhandaround—“fashionable.”Thatmightdothetrick.NoonewillwonderwhoIamiftheydon’tidentifySam.
Helooksdownathisoutfit.“ThisiswhatIusuallywearathome.”
Otherguyswouldwanderaroundinboxersandadirtyundershirt.“YoulooklikeyouwalkedoutofaVogueadforcasualwear.AverageTorontodudesdon’twearflowypants.”
“Oh.”Hebrightens.“Gotit.”
HedisappearstohisownsuiteasIrunahandthroughmyhair.Ilookfineasme;noonewilllooktwice.
DoIwantthemtolook?IpullouttheDior.It’scalledRevelationandIwonderhowIcangetajobnamingthesethings.
Thefirstswipegoesonsmoothlikehoney.MeiinsiststhatIusealiplinerwhenIdotheFangliface,butthisisformeandIdon’tmindtheedgesblurring.ThecolorisasrichasIhopedandgivesmyentirefaceamoreangularcast.Ilikeit.
Ilikeitalot.
Samreappearsanddoesadoubletake.“That’sanewlook.”
“Iknow.”Idon’taskwhathethinksbecauseIdidn’twearitforhim.InsteadIcheckhimover.Thistimehe’sgotontightblackjeans,aballcap,sunglasses,andablackmedicalfacemask.Iclosemyeyes.“Losethemaskorthesunglasses.AndcanIgetmykeyback?”
“IusuallywearthemwhenI’mout,”hesays.
“Oneisfine.BothwiththehatscreamLookatme,I’mfamous.”
“Fine.”Hewhipsofftheshades.“Happy?”
I’mgivingamasterclassinlookinglikearegularperson.“Doyoureallynevergounwatched?”Iask.
“Idon’tknow.It’ssafertoassumeIamsoIcanbeonguard.”
There’snoanswerIcangivetothis,soIgrabmypurseandweheadout.HeautomaticallymovestowherethecarsaresoItakehisarmandadjustcourse.“We’rewalking.”
“Oh.Okay.”
Idrophisarmimmediatelybecausethefeelofhismuscledsolidnessisakintotouchingahotstove.“Keeplookingstraightahead.Actlikethere’snothingtonoticeaboutyou.You’rearegularguygoingoutside,that’sit.Youdriveafive-year-oldHondaCivicandwonderifyouhaveenoughmoneyforadownpaymentonastudiocondo.”
Hisbodylanguagegetsmorecasualashelistens.“Gotit.”
It’saweekdayandwe’recloseenoughtotheFinancialDistrictthatitswarmswithofficeworkersgrabbingfoodorgoingabouttheirday.Noonetakesaphotoorasksforanautographbecausemostofthemareontheirphonesorbusytalkingtoeachother,andSamcheersupasheseesthatnoonerecognizesusasFangliandSam.We’reonlytwomorefacelesspeopleinafacelesscrowd.
“TheCNTowerissotall.”Helooksupaswepass.
“Doyouwanttogoup?”Ihaven’tbeensinceanelementary-schoolclasstrip.
“Canwe?”Hissmileiswistful.“TherewasaphotoofitinabookwhenIwasakid.IthoughtifIwentupthathigh,Iwouldbeabletoseethewholeworld.”HecraneshisheadbackandIcopyhim.Thespikyconcretestructureloomsoverus,dwarfingeverythingaroundit.
Thenhesquintsatthelittlereddotsmovingaroundtheexteriorofthemainpod.“Arethosepeople?”
“Youcanputonaharnessandleanovertheedge.”Iholdupmyhandbeforehesaysaword.“You’reonyourownforthat.”
“I’llpass.Wireworkisenoughforme.”
Webuyticketsandyawntopopourearsasweflyuptheelevatortotheobservationdeck.Althoughthedayisovercast,it’snotsocloudythatitcompletelyobscurestheview.
“Youcan’tseethewholeworld,butthat’sHamiltonoverthere.”Ipointoutthecitythatedgesthelaketothesouthwest.
Hesmilesandreachesoutasifhe’sgoingtoholdmyhand.Ifreeze,thensagashetouchesthewindowinstead.“It’sgoodenough.”
IleaveSamdreamingbythewindowasIroamandtakecaretodancearoundtheglassfloorthatgivesasickeningviewtotheground.ThatourrelationshiphasshifteddramaticallyisunquestionableandI’mtornbetweenacceptingitandwantingtotalkaboutitadnauseam.Acoolgirlwouldtakeitallinstride.
Iamnotcool.
IstompbacktohimbeforeIlosemynerve.“Whyareyoubeinglikethis?”
Hiseyesturndowntotakemein.“Likewhat?”
“Friendly.Youstartedoffrudeashell,andforthelastlittlewhile,you’rebeingnicetome,nicerthanyouneedtobeforthisjob.What’sgoingon?”MyvoiceshakesbecauseIdon’tlikeconfrontation,andalthoughthisisn’thostile,it’saboutfeelings,whichIalsoavoid.There’salotIdon’tlikeaboutthissituation,butifIgetclarityonitattheend,I’llbehappier.
“I’msorry.”
ThisisnotwhatIthoughthe’dsay.“Forwhat?”
“Didn’twegothroughthistheothernight?”Helooksoutthewindowintothedistance.“ItoldyouIwasworriedaboutFangli.”
Achatteringfamilyapproachesandwemovetotheothersideofthedeck.
“Right.Thatdoesn’texplainwhyyouwanttohangoutwithmeinsteadofstayingatthehotelplayingCandyCrushrightnow.”
Sampressesagainstthewallandcrosseshisarms.“Isitsuchaproblemtobewithme?Youknowtherearepeoplewhowouldkillforthis?”
“Namenames.”
“Fine,Iwaslonely,”hesnaps.“Happy?IwasboredandyouandFanglicamebackglowingtheothernightandIwantedthesamething.Iwanttoliveforacouplehourswithnoexpectations.Iwanttoforgetbeingme.”
Iunderstandthesentiment.“Okay,”Isay.
Heeyesme.“Really?”
“Yeah,that’slegitimate.”Itestmyself.AmIhurtbythis?Inaway,it’srefreshingtohaveitoutintheopen.Heusesmetobrieflyfeellikeanormalperson.IuseFangliformoneyandavoyeuristicglimpseintotheworldofthefamous.Fangliusesmetosavehermentalhealth.IuseSamfor…Fine.It’snorealhardshiptospendtimewiththeSexiestManintheWorld.Shallow?Yes.True?Alsoyes.
“I’msorry,”herepeats.“Weshouldgoback.”
Igrabhissleeveashegoespastme.“Noway.Wesaidarcade.”
“Yousure?”Helooksdoubtful,thenleansinasifreadytoconfidehislife’ssecret.“Hey,Gracie?”
“What?”
“Doyouknowwhatkindofshoesninjaswear?”
Idomybestnottotwistoutmyopticnerveswhilerollingmyeyes.“Sneakers.”
“Oh.Youknowit.”Hismomentarydisappointmentissoonreplacedbyhisgameface.“Arcadetime.Getreadytoloseatanepiclevel.”Twenty-One
Samtrouncesmesoundlyateverygamewetry.Everyfuckinggame.Idomybesttokeepmytemperbecausehavingatantrumlikeachildbecauseyou’velostatPlinkoisnotagoodlook,especiallywhenyouropponentisalmosthummingwithcontentment.Iendupsublimatingmyresentmentintoafightaboutwhoshouldbuythebeer.
“Agoodwinnerisgenerous,”Isay.
“Loseralwaysbuys.”
“Youareamillionaire,”Ipointout.
“Alowbutaccurateblow.”Heholdsouthisfist.“Howaboutwerock,paper,scissors?”
Threeroundslater,Sam’satthebarputtinghismoneydown.Itakemypintwithasmugsmilethatmakeshimlaugh.
I’mnotsurprisedwhenSamechoesthethoughtthat’sbeenrevolvingthroughmyheadforthelasthour.“Thishasbeenfun,”hesays.
“Exceptformelosingallthegames.”
“AsIsaid,fun.”Hesipshisdrink.“Cheeredmeup.How’sEppy?”
Herememberedwhatitwascalled.Itrynottobeam.“Good.Ithink.”
“Problems?”
“Notproblems.Challenges.”
“Thinkingabouthowtolayerinprioritizationwithtimemanagement?”
Igawkathim.“Howdidyouknow?”
“That’swhatIlookforwhenI’mtryingtoorganizealist.”
Ihaveatargetmarketrighthere,andifEppycanscaleforamoviestar,Ifigureitwillworkfortherestofuspeasants.“Whatelsedoyoulookfor?”
Wespendahappyhalfhour—atleastforme;Samlookslikehe’sabouttofadeafterthefirsttwelvequestions—goingthroughhisidealto-dolist.Finallyhecoughstorelievehisdrythroatandglancesatmydrink.“Wantanother?”
“Areyoubuyingagain?”IdraintheglassandglanceatthescreensofnotesI’vetakenonmyphone.Samwasagoldmineofideas.HeevenknewafewplatformsIhadn’theardof.
“OnlybecauseIfeelsorryforsomeonewhocouldn’tevenwinaglorifiedversionofPong.”HewalksawaybeforeIcanprotest—thatonegamewaswayharderthanPong—andIdomybestnottofollowhimwithmyeyesandfailmiserably.Thefrazzledmomtryingtocorralthreescreamingkidsdoesthesame,andonherface,Iseethatfantasythatbeautifulmencreate:Pleasetakemefromthis.Lookatme.Bemyprince.Bemine.Makemefeelspecial.Seeme
BythetimeSamreturns,I’mpensive.
AwomantoSam’slefthadbeenwatchinghimbetweensipsofherwhitewine,butbeforeIcanwarnhim,shedownsherdrinkandhopstoherfeet.Imanagetogetout“Uhh,”andthenshe’sonhim.
“I’msorry,butareyouKai’sfriend?”Shelooksupathimwithbigblueeyesunderherheavyfringeoffakeeyelashes.“Ithinkwemettheotherday?”
“I’mnot,sorry.”Hegivesherapleasantsmile.
“Oh.”Shetiltsherheadandswingsbackherblown-outombrehair.“I’mLauren.”
IreachoutandtakeSam’shand.“Nicetomeetyou!”Isay,matchinghersmilewithmyownandthrowinginadashofyobitch,stepoff.IknowshegetsthemessagebecauseherfacesqueezeswhenSamlayshisotherhandovermine.
“IguessIhadthewrongperson.”Sheretreats.
“Sorry,”IapologizetoSam,quicklypullingmyhandaway.
Hegrinsatme.“Nicelydone.”
“Doyougetthatalot?Nooneevertriestopickmeup.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,”hesayspolitely.“Toansweryourquestion,ithappensoccasionally.I’mnotoftenalonewhenI’moutsoIthinkthatlimitsittothemostbrave.Theydon’twantme,though.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“They’reattractedtotheconceptofme,butit’safantasythey’vebuilt.Itdoesn’tmatteriftheyknowwhoIamornot.It’sthis.”Hewaveshishandathisface,thenshrugs.“Thefamehelps.Atleastshedidn’trecognizeme.Thatwouldbeamess.”
Ipeerintohisglass.“DidyougettheMassiveEgoIPA?”
“IgottheRealisticlager,”hecorrects.“Mylooksareanasset.Fullymonetized.”
Iknowhe’sright.It’sSam’spublicpersonaandthesameaswhatFanglisaidthatfirstdayaboutherfans.Whatkindofpressuredoesthatcreate,tobeonapedestalthatyouneverbuiltandthatisaby-productofdoingajobtothebestofyourabilities?
“Huh.”IbeamatLauren,whoisgloweringatme.“What’sitliketobesogood-looking?”
“Youtellme.”
“Whatever,SexiestManintheWorld.”
Tomysurprise,Sam’searsgobrightred.Thenhesays,“IfImaypointout,Fangliisconsideredoneofthemostbeautifulwomeninfilm.Youareactingasherdouble.”
“Nooneeverthinksthataboutme,”Isay.“I’vealwaysbeenmoreweird-looking.”It’sonlybeenthelastfewyearsthatpeoplehavedecidedtomakeafussabouthowattractivemultiracialpeopleare,asifadmiringourappearancemakesupfortheirunnecessaryneedtotalkabouthowwelookatall.Ipokeattheringmyglassleftonthetable.FangliandIlookthesamebutwe’vehadverydifferentexperiencesofwhatourfacesrepresenttootherpeople.Herscanbeconsideredonitsaestheticmerits.Mineisstillasocialstatement.
“No.”Samshakeshishead.
TwopintsmeansIhavethecouragetosaywhat’sbeenbotheringme.“YousaidIwas.”
“What?”Heputshisglassdownandleansforward.“Never.NeverwouldIeventhinksuchathing.”
“TheotherdayyousaidIwasonlyhalf.Yousaid,‘Ifyouweren’tonlyhalf,I’dthinkyouwerearealChinese.’”Iremembereachword.
Samissilent.“That’snotthesamething.”
“Itis,abit.”Ipauseandtakemycourageinhandagain.“Thesameideaisthere.Beingdifferent.”
“There’snothingwrongwithbeingdifferent.”
“There’snothingwrongwithitifyouwanttobe,”Icorrecthim.
Hegivesmeaconfusedlook.“Don’tyouwantto?Whybeordinarywhenyouhavethechoicetobesomuchmore?”
“BecauseIdon’twantittoonlybebecauseofhowIlook!Orbecausemymom’sfromadifferentcountry.”
Tomyshame,mythroatswellsandtearsprickagainstmylids.Ibitedownhardonmytongue,notwantinghimtoseehowupsetIam.ButthisisSam,who’strainedtoreacttobodylanguagemuchmoresubtlethanmine,andhetakesmyhand.“I’msorry.”
“Excuseme.”Istanduptoescapetothewashroom,notwantinghimtoseemecry.Instead,Sam’shandcomesdownonmyarm.It’sagentletouch,notcontrolling.
“Don’tleave.We’llgooutside,”hesays.“We’lltalk.”
***
Weendupsittingonabenchatthetrainmuseumrightinfrontofthearcadeandstaringatsomelittlekidsastheyplayhide-and-seek.Althoughmeandmybigmouthstartedthisconversation,Ihavenodesiretoseeitthrough.WhydidIevenbringitup?
“Iupsetyou,”hesaysquietly.
“Sorry.It’snobigdeal.”
“Youdothatalot,”hesays.“Sayyou’resorrywhenyouhavenothingtobesorryfor.”
“I’mCanadian.We’reraisedonapologiesandmaplesyrup.”
Heignoresmyweakjoke.
“Gracie,ItrulyapologizeforwhatIsaid.Iwon’tmakeexcusesastowhatImeant,butletmesaythatIneverwantyoutothinkyou’relessthanwhoyouare.Idon’tthinkofyouasanyonebutyou,awholeandcompleteperson.”
“Okay.”Ilookup.Sam’sfrowningattheshinyenginecarinfrontofusasifweighinghisnextwords.
“Youarenotlimitedbyyourappearance.WhenImeantthatyoucouldbemore,thatit’sgoodtobedifferent.”Hefrowns.“Howyoulookwasthelastthingonmymind.”
Abrief,disloyal,andguilt-inducingthoughtcomes:WouldIhavethesameperspectiveifI’dbeenraisedbyaLuLili,awomanwhorelishedstandingoutratherthanfearingit?Perhaps.It’stoolatenow.IamwhoIam.
“Iunderstand,”ItellSam.Ido.IalsoknowthisconversationisnowoverbecauseIdon’twanttotalkaboutitanymore.“Weshouldgetgoing.Ineedtimetogetreadyfortonight.”
ItlookslikehewantstosaymorebutSamstandsupandhelpsmetomyfeet.Hisgripisfirmonmyhand,andwhenhepullsmeup,Ilosemyfootingandstumbleforward.Again,hesweepsmeup,hishandswarmonmyback,andlooksdowninmyface.Mybreathhitchesandhereleasesme.
“ThatwaslikethetimeFanglislippedandyoucaughther,”Isaytobreakthetension.“ItwasallovertheclipsMeimademewatch.”
Henods.“Milan,Ithink.Twoyearsago.Thatgotagoodreaction.”
“What?”
Samrearsback,astonished.“Youthoughtthatwasreal?”
Nowit’smyturntobesurprised.“Youplannedthat?”
“Themoviewasaboutadoomedloveaffair.”Hethoughtback.“WasitmyideaorFangli’s?Mine,Ithink.”
“Ihadnoidea.Doweneedtodosomethinglikethatfortonight?”
“That’smoreofaspecialoccasionmove.Tonightwegotoseeandbeseen.”Hesmiles.“It’llbeabreeze.”
Itrynottothinkofhowominousthatsoundsaswereturntothehotel.Notuntilwe’rebackdoIrealizeI’mhungry,soIcallroomserviceforasandwichbeforeIhopintotheshower.Theexpensiveshowergelcheersmeinawaythatonlyluxuryproductscan,envelopingmeintheirfragrance,Chanelofcourse,thankstoFangli.Icomeoutwithverysoftskinandwrapmyhairupinatoweltoprepareforthespacklingofmyfacethatactsasapreludetothemakeup.I’veappliedthebasicswhenIhearaknock.Mustberoomservice.
Ihuntaroundforarobeandopenthedoor.There’snoonethere,soIstepouttoseeifthey’vealreadyleftandareattheelevators.AmovementdownthehallcatchesmyattentionandItakeanotherstepoutbecauseIdon’twantthatsandwichtoescape.
Behindmecomesasoftclickasthedoorlocksshut.
ThenIstandthere,wrigglingthedoorknobandrefusingtoacceptreality.Shit.Myphoneisinthere.Ihavenokey.IgonextdoorandknockonFangli’sdoor;noanswer.AtleastSamhasmykey,butwhenIknock,there’snoanswerthereeither.Igobackandshakethedoorforasecondtimeincaseit’smagicallyunlockedinthelastthirty-fourseconds.Ithasn’t.
I’llhavetogodowntothelobbyinmytowelandrobe.Iweightheprosandcons.Pros:gettingintheroom.Cons:publicshame.Photosofahalf-nakedmeasFangligoingviral.Ileanmyheadagainstthedoorandasktheuniverseforguidance.
Itdoesnotdeliver.
AsItrytorecallthelayoutofthelobbyandifthere’sanywayIcansneakdownabackstairwellandhissattheconciergewhilehidingbehindthedownstairsdoor,acartappearsattheendofthehall.Theuniversehastakenpityonmeafterall,becausehousekeepingcanletmein.WhenIgooverandfindthewomancleaningtheroom,shelooksmeupanddownwithabrightsmile.
“I’msorry,”Isay.“Ilockedmyselfoutofmyroom.Canyouletmebackin?”
Thesmiledoesn’tslip.“Doyouhaveakey?”
“No,Ilockedmyselfout.Ineedtogetbackin.”
“Youneedakey.”
“Right,”Iagree.“It’sintheroom.ThatIlockedmyselfoutof.”
“Icancallsecurity.”
“Thanks.”Iknowintellectuallythismakessense,sinceyoucan’thavepeoplesimplyclaimingtheystayhere,butI’minthehallinatowelandmypatienceislimited.ShecallsdownandIgobacktomydoor.Mayberoomservicehasarrivedandtheycanletmein.
Roomservicehasnotarrived.
WhilenormallyIwouldfilethisunderthe“Welp,whatcanyoudo”categoryofmischance,thefactthatIaminthehallinhalfmakeupmeansmyanxietyaboutthisreboundingonFangliisinchingeverhigher.Samsaidcamerasareeverywhere.Idon’tneedFangliseeingfootageofme-as-herlookinglikeadrownedrat.
Ipadbarefootdownthehall,stickingtothewallsasifI’mamouseavoidingdetection,lookingdowninhopesthesecuritycamerasareallneartheceilingandthey’llonlycatchthetwistedtowelonmyhead.Anexquisitelycutblacksuitcomesmyway.Excellent.It’sSam.I’veneverbeensohappytoseehim.
Hestopsdeadwhenheseesme,lookingdownattherobe.“Whatareyoudoing?”Helooksasifhe’spreparedforanyanswer.
“Ineedthekeytomyroom,”Isay.“Igotlockedout.”
“IgaveittoMei.IrealizedIwasinfringingonyourprivacy.”
“Youhaditthisafternoon.Youhadittwohoursago.”
“BecauseIforgottogiveittoyouwhenyouaskedanddidn’twanttomakeitworse.”
Igroan.“Youhadtobeagentleman?Rightnow?Mei’snotansweringherdoor.”
“SheleftafterIsawhertomeetFangliatanappointment.Whywereyououtinthehalllikethatanyway?”
“GotboredandthoughtI’dgoexploringinmynewfancydress.”Isweepasarcasticcurtsythathastheunfortunateresultofswingingopenmyrobeandrevealingthetowelunderneath,whichonlyreachesmyupperthighs.
TheelevatordingsandSamcursesunderhisbreath.“Let’sgetyouinsidemyroombeforesomeonesees.”
Iglancebacktoseethefrontoftheroom-servicecartappearingfromtheelevator.“Ibetthat’smysandwich.”
Samtakesadeepbreath.“Iwillcollectyourprecioussandwichbutrightnow,inthismoment,Ineedyoutogetoutofsight.Please.”
It’sreasonable.Inodandthetoweldropsoffmyhead.IkneeltograbitbutlosemybalanceafterItwistthetowelbackon,forcingSamtoleandownandgrabmyshoulderstopreventmefromtopplingover.Awkward,buttwosecondslater,it’sallsortedout.Heushersmeintohissuite,andasthedoorshuts,Ihearhimtalkingtosomeoneinthehall.Ilistenatthedoorandhearanothervoice.Security.Icausedquiteafuss.
WhileIwait,ItrytostopmyselffromsnoopingaroundSam’ssuite.It’sthesameasminebutwiththeroomsbackward—wheremybedroomisontheright,hisisontheleft.Iwillnotgointohisbedroom.Iwillnot.Tostiflemyurge,Itakeaseatonthecouchhunchedupinmyrobeandrubatmyhairtotowel-dryitbeforewrappingitagain.Agoodthingnoonesawusinthehallway
Thedooropens.“You’regood,”saysSam,doinghisbesttoaverthiseyesfrommyrobedself.“Food’sinyourroom.Youhavefortyminutes.”
Ijumpuplikeajack-in-the-box,knockingthetoweloffmyheadagainintheprocess.Samdigshisfingerintohistemplelikehe’swardingoffaheadacheandcloseshiseyes.Thatgesturewillnotmakeitontothesizzling-hot-things-men-dolist.Iignorehimandwrapmyhairbackupagain.
Thesecurityguardiswaitingatmydoor,andIthankhimwithmyfaceloweredsohecan’tgetagoodlookbeforeIgobackin.Fortyminutes.Iinhalethesandwichandbrushmyteethbeforedryingmyhairtoprepareforthewig.I’mgettinggoodatthemakeup,andImanageasmoothsmokyeyeandasharpredlipinnotime.
Thistime,thedresscodeisExtraFancy.Irefusedtohaveapedicurebecausethethoughtofsomeonemessingwithmyfeetmakesmecringe,sotheshoesareclosed-toedbutsoprettyIdecidethetortureofwearingthemwillbeworthit.They’rewhatacoworkercalleddinneranddomashoes—manageableonlytotakeataxitotherestaurantandbackhome.
AfterabriefbutintensebattlebetweenmyhipsandthetwopairsofSpanxthatdotheirbesttocompressmelikeasausage,Idropthedressovermyhead.It’sablackcheongsamdesignwithnavybeadedembroiderythatgivesitapleasingweightandahighcollarcuttoshowoffmyshoulders.Iaddtheearrings—simplestudswithdiamondsasbigaspeasandthemultitudeofthingoldbraceletsMeihasputout.Therearesomanyittakesactualminutestogetthemallon,butonceI’mfullydeckedout,IwavemyarmsaroundlikeWonderWomanwithhergauntlets.Assumingtheyarereal,andit’smuchbetterformystresslevelstopretendtheyarenot,I’mbasicallycoveredwithmoney.
Oncethewigison,Iglanceinthemirroranddoadoubletake.
TodayIamindistinguishablefromtherealFangli.Thisgivesmeconfidence.Ipracticedhersignatureandhergesturesandhersmile.Icannameherentirefilmographyandrememberwhereshewenttoschoolandherfavoritecolor,ifanyofthosetopicscomeup.Moreimportantly,peopleareexpectingtoseeFangliandthat’swhatthey’llsee.Idecidetoconsiderthismytruedebutinmyalterego.
IhearFangliarrivebackandtuckmylipstick,phone,androomkeyintothebeadedclutch,whichismuchclassierthanstuffingthemdownmybra.WhenIknockontheconnectingdoors,IseeSamisalreadythereandFangliisn’t.
“Ready?”Iask.WhenIseehisface,Iknowthere’strouble.“What?”
Meimurmursandleavesashepassesoverhisphone.It’sapostofawomaninawhiterobekneelingonthefloorinfrontofaman,hishandsonhershouldersinaposethatlooksunmistakablysexual.Iknowthatcarpet.Iknowthathallway.Iknowthosepeoplebecauseoneofthemisdefinitelyme.
“Whatthefuck?”Iturnthephonesidewaysasifthatwillgivememoreinformation.
“Language.Theguydeliveringyoursandwichtookit,”Samsays.“Fangli’steamisdealingwithit.”
Icanonlystare.Itlooksbad,reallybad.“Isitedited?”AllIdidwasbenddowntogetatowel.Thewayitlooksisterrible,asifI’maboutto…Mystomachchurns.PoorFangli.“Whatdoyoumeanthey’lldealwithit?”
“Ithasn’tgoneviral,sothey’llgetitpulledandscrubbed.Thatassholewillbefired,ofcourse.Thehotelisalreadyondamagecontrolbecauseofthehittotheirreputation.Noonewillwanttostayhereiftheirprivacycanbesoeasilycompromised.”
Isit—verystraightbecauseofthedress—inachair.“Fangli?”
“Doesn’tknow,”hesays.“Shewon’t.”
“Herteamknowsthatcan’tbeher,”Iargue.“Shewasn’there.”
“It’stheperception.ThephotonamesherasFangli.”
“Whataboutyou?”IgoredasIlookatthephotoagain.“I’msosorry.”Forthefirsttime,Iunderstandwhathemeansbyalwaysbeingvigilant.IthoughtIwasbeingcarefulbykeepingmyfacepointeddowntoavoidgettingcaughtonthesecuritycameras,butInowseethatIhavenoideaoftherealscopeofdamagethatcanbecausedbyasimpleaccident.Fanglican’thaveaccidents,andbyextension,neithercanI.
ButIdid,andnowIcanonlytrustthatFangli’steamcancontainit.Afurybuildsinmeatthemanwhotookthephoto.Whatwashehopingtoaccomplish?Someupvotesatthecostofotherpeople’sreputations.
Fangli’svoicecomestome.I’maproduct,notaperson.
“It’snotyourfault.”Hekneelsdownsowe’relevelandpeersintomyface.“Ineedyoutoknowyoudidn’tdoanythingwrong.”
“Lookatthis.”Ishakethephoneathim.“Youtoldmetobecareful.”
“Ididandyouare.Itwasanaccident.”
Myeyesgobacktothephotoandhegentlytakesthephoneaway.
“We’redealingwithit.”Heholdsouthisarm.“Areyoureadytogo?”
“We’regoing?”
“Thisisn’tourproblemtosolve.Wehavepeopleforthis.YourjobrightnowistomakeFanglishinesonoonewillbelievethatgarbage.”Hetiltshishead.“Canyou?”
Hellno,saysinteriorme.IignorethatvoiceandliftmychinasIriseoutofthechair.I’vegotajobtodo.IturntoSam.“Let’sgo.”Twenty-Two
“Therewillbecameras,”SamremindsmeforthefourthtimeasthecarpullsuptothetheateronKingStreet.“Rememberoursignal.”
We’vedecidedSamwilltakethelead,notinadraggy-cavemanway,butaneasyquarter-stepaheadsoIknowwheretostopanddeliveraFanglimomentforthephotographers.
Hewatchesmefidgetwiththerowofbraceletsonmyarmbeforelayingagentlehandonmyfingers.“Areyouready?”
SeeingthephotohasincreasedmyanxietybutItrytodislodgethenegativityandmakespaceforthemoreimminentissueoftheredcarpet.“Iwasbornready.”
Thismakeshimshakehishead—buthe’ssmiling—beforehegetsoutandleansbackintohelpmeexit,providingcoverasIdomybesttokeepfromflashingtheworldbecauseoftheslitinmyskirt.It’sagoodthingthisabsorbsmostofmyattention,becausebythetimeI’moutwithmysmileon,Ionlyhavetimetomakeoutabluecarpetbeforeitdissolvesintoaseizure-inducingbarrageofcameraflashes.It’snotonlythephotographerswholinethecarpet,buteverypersonthereiscallingmynameandSam’sandtakingphotos.
NothingSamtoldmewarnedmeforthephysicalityofthisexperience.Thecamerasaren’tpassiveinstrumentsusedtocapturemomentsintime;they’reactiveandhostileparticipants.
Ifreeze,nonplussedbutsmilefixed,andSamleansdownslightlytoslidehisarmaroundmywaist.HesmellslikesandalwoodthistimeandIsniff,feelingthescentcalmme.I’dpickedCoromandel,arichpatchoulithatboostsmyconfidence.Onlybadbitchesandhippiesusepatchouli,afragrancethatcangofromdistinctivetooverwhelminginamoment.I’veneverhadthenervetowearit.
“You’vegotthis,”hemurmurs.
Itallbecomesablur.Ismileandposewithmyhandonmyhipandmychindownandslightlytotheright,whichMeiremindedmemultipletimesismybestside.MyfaceachesandmyeyestearupwhenIforgettoblink.EarliertodayIworkedoutaseriesofmovestocasuallychangeposes,andIworkthroughthemlikeaBeyoncébackupdancer.
Ithoughtthiswouldbethemostthrillingthingthateverhappenedtomebecausewalkingthecarpetistheepitomeofmovie-starglamourbuttheflashesandscreamspressupagainstmeinthemostmaddeningway.It’slayeredwiththeknowledgethatasinglewrongmove—astumbleorfrownorsillylook—canbeseenaroundtheworldbeforeIevennoticeI’vescrewedup.Orthatsomeonecouldpointandyell,“That’sanimposter!”emperor’s-new-clothesstyle.
“Breathe,”SammurmursandItakeinashortgasp,thenanotherlongerwheeze.MychestfeelscinchedfromfearandSpanx,buthishandgripsmywaistandImanagetogetarealbreath.
Samguidesmetotheendofthecarpetandintoamainlobbyfilledwithwell-dressedpeoplemillingaroundgivingair-kisses.Unlikeattheartexhibit,theattendeesrangefromformallygownedtodownrighteccentric.AsSamtuckshishandundermyarmandIworrythesweatIfeelbeadingonmyupperlipisabouttoburstthroughmythicklayeroffoundation,amanwalksbyinachartreusepolka-dottedshortssuit,panamahattippedlowoverhiseyes.Apparentlybothstyleandwealthareappreciatedhere.
SinceIdon’thavemuchofeither,itdoesn’tcalmme.
“Ah,thereheis.”Samwavesatsomeonebehindme.
“Sammy!”Ashortmanwithahighman-buncomesover,ahugegrinonhisface.IknowwhoitisbecausethistimeIdidmyresearchandcheckedtheIMDbfordirectorEddyFreedmanbeforecoming.“Youragentwouldn’tconfirmbutIknewyouwouldn’tletmedown.”
“You’dneverletmeforgetit.”
“True.WeiFangli,gladtoseeyou.”HenodsandIremembertheinternetsayshehasaphobiaabouttouchingpeople.“Itmustbethreeyearsnow.Four?”
“Atleast.”I’mhavingaconversationwithsomeonewhoknowsFangli.
“There’ssomethingdifferentaboutyou.”HelooksatmeandcockshisheadslightlytothesideasItrynottofreakout.“Newhairstyle,”hefinallydecides.
Ipassedthetest.Samtouchesmyarminasmallcelebratorygesture.
AharriedwomaninagraydressandaheadsettugsonEddy’sarmandmuttersintohisear.Henods.“Right,I’llseeyouattheafter-party,Sam?”
“Wehaveanearlymorningtomorrowbutwe’llcomeforabit.”
That’sit.EddyisswallowedbythecrowdandSampluckstwoglassesofbubblywineoffapassingtray.ItakeitandresisttossingitbacklikeashotsinceFanglidoesn’tdrink.
ThestarsofthemoviearriveandSamandIdriftbacktotheedgesofthecrowd.Imakesuretokeeponasmallsmile.“We’llgreetthemlater,”hesays.“Howareyou?”
“Good,”Isay.ThenIrepeatit.“Good.”Iam.Mysmilehasn’tslippedandImanagedtheRunningofthePhotographers,saferbutsomehowmoreintimidatingthanthebullsofPamplona.“What’snext?”
“Sincewetimedittoarriveabitlate,wecanavoidmostofthemingling.We’llbeaskedtogointothetheater.Wewatchthemovie.Clap.Followeveryonetoaroom.Declineadrink.Stayfifteenminutesandleave.”
“Soundslikeahotdate,”Isay.
“Onlythebestforyou.”Hedropsmeacheesywink.
Alowvoicecarriesoveranintercom.“Pleasetakeyourseats.Ladiesandgentlemen,pleasetakeyourseats.”
There’saslowturnofthecrowdastheymovetotheopendoorsofthetheater.IknowfromSamthefilmisacomedyoferrorslooselybasedontheOscarWildeplayLadyWindermere’sFan.Samsitsbesidemeandwebothsmileatthepeopleinourrow,whoseemtoknowwhoIamwithoutsayingtheydo.WeengageinsomelightchatterabouttheweatherandhowhotitisinLAthistimeofyear;theythankGodtheyhadthejetbecauseitmakestravelingsomuchmoreconvenientwhenyoudon’thavetowaitforcustoms,andIthankGodthelightsdimbeforeIneedtocontinuethisinaneconversation.
Inthedark,IamveryawareofSamsittingnexttome.We’vealreadydonesomepoliteelbowjujitsuoverwhogetsthearmrestbetweenusbutIendupcedingmyhard-wonterritorytohimwhenIrealizetheprisonofwomen’sclothesmakesitmorecomfortabletositwithmyhandsprimlyclaspedinmylapandmybackstraightasaruler.Ishiftaroundtofindacomfortableposition,buttomydismay,theSpanxstartslipping.Onlyabit,butlikewhenyoursocksinevitablycomedownyourcalvestolandinwrinkledcupsbyyourankles,theedgesrollandmystomachstrugglesforrelease.WhenIgetup,I’mgoingtohaveatuberightaroundmyhips.WhileIwanttofightthegoodfightforbody
“What’sthematterwithyou?”Samhissesinmyear.
“MySpanxarefallingdown.IfIstandup,they’llbindmylegstogether.”
“Yourwhatarefallingdown?”
“Myunderwear.”It’stheeasiestwaytodescribethemwithoutgettingintoadiscussionaboutwomen’sfoundationgarments.
Hedoesn’tevenreply,merelycovershiseyeswithonehandasifattemptingtogatherhisemotionalstrength.
“It’snotmyfault.”
Moresilence.
“WhatdoIdo?”
Heturnstome,stupefied.“HowshouldIknow?Idon’twearwomen’sunderclothes.Surelybythisage,you’vemasteredwearingthem.”
“Idon’twanttotalktoyou.”Thisconversationhasbeenconductedinwhispers,asifwe’resharingaprivateconversationthatisabsolutelynotaboutmyunderwear.
“Good.”
“Good.”
Thefilmstartsrightinwithoutanytrailers.Iwanttoenjoythemovie,atleastenoughthatI’llbeabletotalkaboutitinthepartyafter,butmyclothesmaketheexperienceendless.Bythehalfwaypoint,mythighsareshakingwiththeeffortoftryingtokeepmyselfuprightandunmoving.It’snouse.Witheverybreathandtinyfidget,theSpanxcontinuetheirinexorabletripdownmybodyandthey’renowcuttingintomylowerhips.
Samputsahandonmyknee,andwhileatanyothertimeinmylife,Iwouldhavebeenleftstunnedathistouch,rightnowallIcanthinkisthatdelicatepressuremightbringtheSpanxdownanothercentimeter.Ican’triskitandIknockhishandaway.
“Thenstopsquirmingaround,”hemutters.
“CanIgotothewashroom?”
“No.”
“JesusfuckingChrist,dorichpeoplenotpee?”Thisisaverynot-FanglithingtosayandthedarklookSamshootsmeconfirmsit.
“I’msureit’snotasbadasyouthink,”hewhispers.
There’ssomesolaceinknowinghe’sprobablyright.Thechancesofanyonelookingatmystomachforthethreeminutesitwilltakemetogettothewashroomforsomeadjustmentsareminimal.Thatis,aslongastheSpanxdon’tfalldowncompletely.Itakeafewdeeperbreathsandwinceastheelasticcutsintothefleshypartofmyhips.That’sgoingtoleaveamark.
WhatIneedisdistraction,likewhenyou’retryingtogetthroughthelasttensecondsofaplankpose.Themovieisgoodbutnotgoodenough,somymindsortsthroughallmycurrentissues:lookingforajob,worryingaboutMom,gettingcaughtasafakeFangli.Thenitlandsontheonethatloomslargestbecausehe’sphysicallyrightbesideme.
Sam.
There’salwaysanintimacyinadarkmovietheater,andhavinghimsonearandinthatsuitisenoughtosendmyimaginationintooverdrive.Samtakingmyhandandpullingmeclose.Sam,hisarmwrappedaroundmeashelaughsinmyearatanexcellentjokeI’vemade.Samwatchingmegetreadybeforehepullsmebackonthebed,hisblackhairandtannedskinastrikingcontrasttothewhitesheet.SamgivingmethatsamelookasthefirsttimeinFangli’ssuite,butthistimemeaningit.SamseeingmeandnotFangli’sdouble.
Theimagesonthescreenpassbywithoutmenoticingwhat’soccurringbecauseI’mthinkingaboutSam.Justforthislittlewhile,Ipromisemyself.OnlyfortheamountoftimeittakesforthismovietorunwillIletmyselfdiveintothefantasyofwhatitwouldbeliketobewantedbySam,tobeoneofthefewtoknowthemanbeneaththatpublic
Istifleaheavysigh.It’ssweetthatheandFangliaresuchgoodfriendsbutI’mevenjealousofthat.NotofFanglispecifically,butofthestrengthoftheirrelationship.There’saleveloftrustbetweenthemthatcanonlyhavebeenforgedthroughsupportingeachotherinthehardtimes,whentheworkisdifficultandyou’regoingtocollapsebecauseeverymuscleachesfromfatigue.Theyknowtheycanturntoeachother.
ThemovieendstoosoonandIreluctantlybidmydreamsgoodbye.I’mbacktobeingfakeFangliwithherSpanxcuttingoffhercirculation.
“Beautifultones,”approvesthemanbesideme.“Thatpalettewasperfect.”
“Gorgeous,”Iagree.Samstands,andwhenIdo,mySpanxslipdownfurther.Samsensesmysuddengrabbecauseheglancesbackandthendown.Hiseyeswidenslightly.
Ah,soitisasbadasIthought.Ican’tdecideifthismeansvindicationorhumiliation.
Ihobbleoutoftherowafterhimandheputshisarmaroundmywaistwithhispalmflatandspreadagainstmyhip.Histouchisfirmbecausehe’stryingtokeepupthedamnelastic.Wewalkasifwe’reinathree-leggedracetothewashroom,Samwithhisdazzlingsocialsmileandmebesidehim.Heleavesmeatthedoor.
There’saline.Ican’tbelieveit.Themenareprobablyswanninguptotheurinalswithoutacareintheworld.Betweenmyunderwear,hunger,andthisstupidachingyearningforSamthatIdidtomyself,I’msodonewithtonight.
SamistalkingtoastrangewomanwhenIcomeoutwithmyprecariousundergarmentsnowundercontrol.OurgazescatchasIheadtowardhim.Hedoesn’tstophisconversationbuttheeyecontactlingersabouttwosecondslongerthanitshouldandItrytoavoidstumblingovermyownfeet.
Don’treadintothis.AllthathappenedisthathelookedatmeasIapproached.He’slookedatmebefore.Hewilllookatmeagainandseemeaspartofajob.
Idon’twanttobehisjob.Iwanttothinkhewaslookingatme,Gracie,thepersonwholovesagenerouslypouredglassofwineandthinkswaytoomuchaboutorganizationalplanners,andnotanalternateFangli.Thisisn’tsafe.
Thensomeonegrabsmebythearm,hard,squealingintomyear.
“Ican’tbelieveit’sreallyyou!”Awide-eyedblondwomanleansclose,tooclose,andhergriponmyarmdoesn’tsoften.“CanIgetaselfie?”
ThisiswhatFanglimeantbypeopleactingasifshe’snothingmorethanarobot.Sam’satmysideinamoment,butshedoesn’ttakehereyesoffme.
IfIhumorher,itwillendfaster.“Ofcourse,”Isaypolitely.
“Yourfaceissocute!IlovedyouinSinEater.”
Istareather,rackingmybrainforFangli’smovies.Iknowthat’snotonthelistbutit’sfamiliar.ComprehensionhitsSamandmeatthesamemoment.
EllenGaoistheonlyChineseactorinSinEater.ShethinksI’manotherperson.
Decidingdiscretionisthebetterpartofvalor,Iposeandsmileasexpected.ShedisappearsalmostasquicklyassheappearedandSamreachesformyarm.Hissmilefadesandheglancesaroundandmakesahandsignal.Inseconds,there’samaninablacksuitandearpiecebesidehim.Samhasahushedconversationandthemannodsonce,looksatmyarm,andleaves.
“ShethoughtIwasEllenGao,”Isay,almostlaughing.It’snotafunnylaugh.I’malittlebreathlessandmyadrenalineisup.
“Thatshouldn’thavehappened.Shesnuckinandsecuritywillgetherout.”Samgesturestomyarm,andIraiseittoseethelividmarksfromherfingers.Hestrokestheskingently,hisexpressionhard.“Doesthathurt?Doyouwanttoleave?”
“No.”Isteadymyvoice.“Yousaidfifteenminutesattheparty?”
“Onlyifyou’reuptoit.”
“I’muptoit.”IsaidI’dtakethisjobseriouslyandI’mgoingto.Thistime,IleadSam.
***
“Ididn’tgetachancetoeat,”ItellFangliwhenIarriveback.ShecameovertomysuiteafterIhadpeeledoffmylayers,andnowmybodyflapsaroundlikeacrabthat’sriditselfofatoo-smallshell.
Sheshovesoveracontainerofcelerythatshe’sbeennibblingonandatubofhummusthatshehasn’ttouched.“Here.”
Iscoopahugeglobandstuffitintomymouth.“Howwasyourday?”PleaselethernotmentionhowInearlytrashedherreputationbydroppingatowelandmakingitlooklikeshewasgoingtogiveSamheadinthehallway.SamhasassuredmeitwastakencareofwithoutFanglievenknowing,whichgivesmesomeconfidenceintheabilityoftheirpeopletodealwiththetabloidsifnewsofwhatI’mdoingforFanglievergetsout—butIhatethinkingaboutwhatmighthavehappened.
Shemakesafaceanddrinksherseltzer.“Myfathercalled.”
Thelightinthesuiteisdimandinthebackground,somemusicIdon’trecognizeisplayingonherphone.Itmakesmethinkofnostalgia.“Soundslikeitwasn’tagreatconversation.”
“Hedisapprovesofmeworkingoutofthecountry,”shesays.“HethinksIshouldstayinChina.”
“Parents.”
“Iknow.IalwayswishIhadasiblingtotakeoffsomeofthepressure.Iwantedasister.Mystepmotherwasnotamenable.”
“Iwantedasister,too.”
“Whydidn’tyou?”sheasks.“Forus,itwastheone-childpolicy.Iwasbornafteritstarted.”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Ineveraskedmymother.IsupposeIalwaysassumedshethoughtIwasenough.”
Fanglileansoverandtouchesmyhand.“Youwere.Iwouldhavelovedtohaveknownmymother.”
Wesitquietlyforamoment.Thenshespeaksagain.“Wouldyouliketocometotheshowtomorrow?”sheasks.“Itmaybeanexperienceforyoutoseewhatit’slike.”
Inearlyjumpoutofmychair.“Onehundredpercent.AmIgoingasaregularguestoryourmakeupartist?”
“Guest.”Shetiltsherheadassheassessesme.“Meiwillgetyouaticketandwe’llgoseparatelysowe’renotseentogetherbutitshouldwork.”
“Ihaven’tseenaplayinages,”Isay.
Fanglipullsthecelerytowardher.“Yourdossiersaidyouactedinschool.”
“IdidandIwenttoshowsallthetime.”Itracemyfingeraroundthetable.“WhenMomstartedgettingsicker,itgotharderformetogoout.”
“Physicallyleavethehouse,orfindtheenergytodoit?”
“Energy.Ihadtodecideontheshow,getthetickets…Iwassooverwhelmedthatitwastoomuch.”Ishakemyhead.“ThatsoundsdumbwhenIsayitoutloud,thatitwastoohardformetobuyaticketoffawebsite.”
ButFangliisbesideme,nodding.“Ithappenstome,”shesays.“There’stoomuchchoice,andsinceallofthemhavemerit,it’sexhaustingtochoose.AtleastIhaveMeitohelpmewhittlethemdown.”
“Outsourcingdecisions.”Itakebacktheceleryfromherandstarteating.“Ilikeit.”
“Mostofmydaysaremanagedforme,”shesays.“I’mtoldwheretogoandsomeoneelsegetsmethere.Iwonderifit’smadeithardformetothinkformyself.”
Fangli’sfacedropswithasuddenblankexpression,asifintrospectionhastakenover.Igavealittlewave.“Hey.EarthtoFangli.”
“IwastryingtothinkofthelasttimeImadeabigchoice,”shesays.Thenshegrins.“ItwaswhenIdecidedtocomeafteryou.”
“Notevenactinginthisplay?”
“Iwouldn’thaveconsidereddoingitwithoutSam.Hewastheonetheyapproachedfirstandhethoughtitwouldbefunforbothofus.Theyagreed,andsodidI.”Shewipesherfingersonanapkin.“Samusuallygetswhathewants.Ithinkit’sthestreakofLuLiliinhim.”
“Hismother.”
Fangli’shugeeyessayitall.“She’sanüber-diva.Absolutelyinaclassofherown.”
“Haveyoueverworkedwithher?”
“Once.”Fanglipullsherrobecloseraroundhershouldersandspeaksinthehushedtonesyou’dusetodescribeaforceofnature.“Liliwasmagnificent.Sheneverraisedhervoice,notonce,butyouknewexactlywhenyoumadeamistake.Sheknewhoweverysceneshouldbeshot,thebestanglesandlighting.Andshewasright,everytime.PoorSam.”
“WhypoorSam?”
“Shedoesn’trunherpersonallifeanydifferentlythanherprofessionalone.She’striedtopushhimintocountlessprojects,andevenifhesaysnotomost,hehastoagreetosomeforthesakeoffamilypeace.”Sheglancesattheclock.“Ishouldbegoing.I’llmakesureMeigetsyouaticketforthematinee.Wedon’thaveaneveningshowtomorrow.Sleepwell.”
SheleavesandIgothroughmynighttimecleansingritual.IinstinctivelyhidthemarksonmyarmfromEllenGao’sone-womanfanclubbutnowIexaminethemclosely.Shegrabbedmehardenoughtoleavelittlehalf-moonsfromhernails.Ishudder.Fameandmoneywouldbenice,butatwhatexpense?Thatwasaminorincident.ThisfamethingisnothinglikewhatIthoughtitwouldbe.Twenty-Three
Thetheateriswithinwalkingdistanceofthehotel,andIleaveabitearlytotakeinthesunonmywaythere.It’sabeautifulday,withaskyblueenoughtobeinpostcards.
Ittakesmyeyesaminutetoadjusttothedimtheaterlobbyafterthesummersun’sbone-whitegleam.I’vebeenherebefore,butevenifIhadn’t,it’sexactlywhatyou’dexpectatheatertolooklike,withdarkwood,redcarpeting,andgiltfixtures.Meisetmeupwithagreatticketinthemiddleoftheorchestrasectionandstrictinstructionstokeeponthefakeeyeglassesshe’sprovided.AnusherhandsmeaprogramasImakemywaytotheredvelvetseatandItiltthebookletatanawkwardangletocatchenoughlighttoreadbeforetheplaystarts.I’vereadthescriptsoIskipthesynopsistospendanextraminutecheckingthebios.Sam’swearingablackcollaredshirtandahugegrin,whileFanglihasaslyexpressionandherhairtumblingaroundhershoulders.
Theseatsfilluprapidly,andafterthewarningstoturnoffphonesandthatfilmingisprohibited,followedbytheIndigenouslandacknowledgment,thelightsdimandthecurtainrisestothunderousapplause.
ThefirstacttakesplaceinaChineserestaurant,withwhite-drapedtablesandblackcane-backedchairs.Fangliappearswearingabluedresswithatightwaist,andherwavedhairmakesherlooklikea1940spinup.Sheisperfectionasshemovesaroundthechairs.Evensilent,shemanagestokeepmyattentionwithhersheerpresence.
ThenSamcomesontothestage.Idomybesttonotstareathim,butit’sliketryingtoavoidgazingatthesunduringaneclipse.IknowIshouldn’tandthatitwillbebadforme,butIcan’tresistalittlepeekbecausesurelythatcan’tdoanydamage.
He’sdressedinadark-graysuit,andthey’vestyledhishairtorevealhisfaceinsteadofhisusualtousledlook.Whenhetugsonthebottomofthevest,Iadditimmediatelytothehot-things-hot-men-dolist,whichIfullyrecognizeisahot-things-Sam-doeslist.
Together,thetwoofthemweaveastorywithmorethantheirwords.Theireveryactionaddslayers.Iwatchwithavideyesastheybuildtheirrelationshiparoundamultitudeofsecrets—hisupcomingsecretmissioninSoutheastAsia,herabsentanddespisedfiancé.
Beforetheintermission,theirchemistryhasbecomeatangiblething,drawingintheaudience.Fangli-as-LinispowerfullyattractedtoSam-as-Jimmy,althoughsheknowshe’shidingsomethingfromher.Jimmyfeelsthesameandisfindingitdifficulttoresisther.Iwatchhim,barelybreathing,asLinreachesouttotouchhislapelandhemovesfromherwithaquicksteptoleanagainstthewall.
Thenthelightscomeupandthecrowdrelaxesintheirseatswithacollectivesigh.Thepeoplearoundmefileoutinsearchofwineandwashrooms,andIcheckmyphonetodistractmyselffromvisionsofagray-suitedSamdancinginmyeyes.
There’satextfromMei.Changetotonight’sevent.Attendingchildren’shospitalforameetandgreetbeforegala.Leaveonehourearly.
Gotit,Isendback.Thanksfortheticket,theseatisgreat.
Silence.I’mleftwiththeuncomfortablesensethatI’veoffendedher,evenovertext.Idon’tseehow—I’vebeenfaithfulaboutdoingmybest,whichIthoughtmadeherlifeeasier.I’lltrytodobetter;thatmighthelpsoftenher.
Thewomanbesidemesitsbackdownwithasippycupofwhitewineandturnstoherfriend,whoisalsoholdingaclearliddedplasticcup.They’reloudenoughthatIsuspectthosearen’tthefirstthey’vehad.
“Beautifulstory,”saystheonenexttomeassheadjustsherpoloshirt.
“Abitunrealistic.”Herfrienddownsatleastathirdoftheglassinagulp.“AlltheAsianswereputincampsduringthewar,sothere’snowaytheycouldvolunteertofight.”
“Really?Ihadnoidea.Youlearnsomethingeveryday.”
Myeyesshiftovertothemasifmagnetized.Ican’tbelieveanyoneisthisignorantofhistorybutIguessyoucarelessifyoudon’tconsiderityourstory.
“IknewaChinesegirlfrombookclub.”ThewomannodsconfidentlyasifthishasgivenhertheequivalentofaPhDinEastAsianstudies.
IhavetointerruptdespiteMei’scautiontokeepalowprofile.“Sorry,butthat’snottrue.”Isettletheglassesmorefirmlyonmyfaceandleanover.“There’sahistoricalnoteintheprogram.”
Theirfacesfreeze.“Why,thankyou,dear,”saystheonewoman.That’sit.Theyturnbacktoeachother,politelyignoringme,andchatquietly.ThenIhear“TheleadisquiteattractiveforanOrientalman.”
“Hesureis.Iwasn’tsureabouttheselast-minuteticketsinsteadofamusicalbutIsupposeit’squitecultural.”
They’rebeyondredemption.Iletthemgobacktotheirwine.
Thecurtainrisesandtheactionblaststhetwowomenrightoutofmymind.MuchlikewhenIwatchedThePearlLotus,IfindithardtostopwatchingSam.He’sutterlycompelling,andIrememberwhathesaidaboutnavigatingthroughanenvironmentinsteadofsimplygettingfromAtoB.He’snotfluidlikeadancerbutsocontrolledhiseverymovementispoetry.TheSamIwatchonthatstageisnotliketheSamIknow,andIwonderhowhechannelshisenergy.I’mawedathisabilitytophysicallyconjureemotions,andIforcemyselftostayawayfromthoughtsofwhathe’slikeinbed.It’shopelessbecausewhenhereachesforFangliandmovesheragainstthewall,capturingherwithhisarmsoneachsideofherhead,SamissoconvincingIbelievehe’lldoanythingtogetFanglitosubmitbodyandsoul.
No,Jimmy.JimmyandLin,notSamandFangli.
Whentheshowends,there’sastandingovationwhentheactorscomeouttobow,andIgooutattheotherendoftherowsoIcanavoidthetwowomen.
Ileavethetheaterinapensivemood.ThatI’mharboringtheseemotionstowardSamisunwelcome,andIneedthesteadybeatofmystepstogetmythoughtsinorder.ThefirstandmostobviousreasonisthatIdon’thaveathingforSamatallbutforwhatherepresents.Putanyrich,handsome,andfamousmaninhisplaceandI’dhavethesameskinprickles,likegettinginanoverlyhotbathwhenyou’recold.
ExceptIwasatapremierelastnightwithseveralrich,handsome,andfamousmeninattendanceandIbarelynoticed.ApparentlyChrisEvanswasthere.Normally,ChrisEvansbeingwithinakilometerradiusofmewouldhavebeenenoughtotriggeraDEFCONlevelstatuschangeinmyhormonesbutIdidn’tknowuntilIcheckedthecelebritygossippagesthismorning.ThisisCaptainAmericawe’retalkingabout,thebestChris.
IfIacceptitisSam,thenwhatisitabouthim?Ipausetothinkthisthroughandthenduckintoalittleparktostopgettingjostledbythecrowdandtakeasunnyseatonapeelingwoodenbench.BeingwithSam,despitehismanyfaultsandfailings,makesmefeelalive.Thatstrangelow-levelyearningforsomethingdifferent,somethingmore,quietswhenI’mwithhim.I’malert.
Moreunwelcomenewsbecauseifthere’sonethingI’vebeentaught,it’sthatyoufindmeaningandvaluefromlifethroughyourself,notamanoranyone.Independenceisthepinnacle,andwhileamancanbeacompanion,it’sagravemistaketothinkhecanbeyourcenter.Youshouldneverbeasatelliteorbitingyourownlife.Momdrilledthisinmefromchildhoodbutdidshelivethatphilosophy?ShewasbereftwhenDaddied.
Ijumpupandstrideawayasiftophysicallyleavethesethoughtsontheseatnexttome.I’mexaggeratingallthis.Samisinmylifeforanothersixweeks,maximum,andsofartherehavebeenzerosignsofhimreciprocatinganyinterest,asIsawfirsthandtheotherday.Ineedtoredirectthoseenergiesintoamorepositiveproject,likemyEppyplanner.
OnmywaybacktotheXanadu,myphonebuzzeswithatextfromAnjali.Hey.
Yoyoyo,Iwriteback.
Anjali:Areyoukidding?
Me:Allthecoolkidssayit.What’sup?
Anjali:Roughday,shewrites.
That’snotusuallylikeher.Ihesitate.CanIcallyou?
Anjali:Yeah.
Shepicksuponthefirstring.“What’sgoingon?”Iask.
“Workstuff.”Shesoundsdown.“Thislifecoach.I’mtryingtointegratewhathesaysintomyworkstyle.”
“Isitnotworking?”
“Igetwhathe’sdoing,”shesays.“Ineedtotoneitdowntogetshitdone,givepeoplespacetomakemistakes.”
“Ihearabut.”
“Ifeellikeanimposter,”shesays,eachworddraggedout.“Itdoesn’tfeellikeme.DoyouthinkIwassuchajerkbefore?”
“No.It’snotbadtobeassertive,confident,andopenaboutyourfeelings.Ithoughtyoulikedthecoach.”
“Ididatfirst,butnowIdon’tknow.”Shesoundsdiscouraged.“Atwork,theykeepsecond-guessingme.That’sneverhappenedbefore.”
“You’reaprojectmanager.It’syourjobtomakedecisionsandgettheworkdone.”
“Iknow.”
“Anjali,youknowyoucanstop,right?”
“What?”
“Thislifecoach.He’snot,like,agod.Youcanthankhimkindlyforhistimeandstopseeinghim.”
There’salongsilence.“Hewassohelpful.Itmademethinkmoredeeplyaboutthings.”
“You’vegottenwhatyoucan,andnowyoucanleave.”
“Ican,can’tI?”Shesoundsabithappier.
“Yup.”
“I’vegottwomoresessionsprepaid,”shesayspractically.
“Telltheguyit’snotworkingandtochangehisapproach,then.You’repayinghim.”
“Thanks,Gracie.”Anjalisoundsrelieved.“Ineededtotalkthisout.”
“Noproblem.”
Wetalkabitmoreandhangup.Thenitdawnsonmethatwasthefirsttimewe’vetalkedonthephone.Wealwaystextormeetup.IfeellikeI’veunlockedafriendshipachievement.
Therestofthedaypassespeacefully.Igoforarun,andthephysicalactivity,whichI’vebeenmissing,doeswondersformymood.CouldthiswholeSamcrushthingbetheresultofnotgettingenoughexercise?
IseeSaminthehallwayasIcomebackup,andthere’snodisguisingmysweatyandmatted-hairedself.He’sinablackballcappulledlowandhishaircovershiseyes.
“Weshouldtalkabouttheeventtonight,”hesaysasagreeting.HefollowsmeinandgrabsadrinkoutofmyfridgeasIpouraglassofwater.IfIdon’tdrinkatleasttwo,I’llgetabrutaldehydrationheadache.
“IsFangliout?”
“She’llbebackbeforeweneedtoleave.”Hetakesoffthecapandrunshishandthroughhishair.“Whatdidyouthinkoftoday?”
“Itwasamazing.WereyouchannelingthatdetectiveinGoldRoaddeliberately?”
Heputsthebottledownwithaclinkonthetable.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“ThescenewithFangli,whenyoumovedheragainstthewall.”
“Yes,Iknowit.”Hemakesanimpatientgesture.Isthisabigdeal?Iguessitis.
“ItwasthesamethingyoudidinGoldRoad.”
“Thatmovieiseightyearsold.”
“Well,Ionlysawittheotherday,”Idefendmyself.
“Whatelsedidyousee?”
“Nothing.It’snotlikeIstudiedyou.”Although,sinceI’veseenenoughofhismoviestopickuphistells,IfeelI’mwellonmywaytoagraduatedegreeinSamonomics.
He’sabouttopressmewhenthephoneringsandIgrabit.OneofthenursesfromMom’shometellsmethatshe’sbeenagitatedallday.“Iknowhowbusyyouare,butitmightsootheherifyoucameby,evenifyoucanonlymanageafewminutes.”
“Ofcourse.”
Ihangupandcheckthetime.It’salreadyfour,soIdosomequickcalculations.IfItakeacab…butrushhour’sstarting.TheTTCwillbefaster.“Ineedtoseemymom,”ItellSam.“Icangetreadythereandmeetyouatthehospital.”
“There’snowayyou’llmakeit,”hesays.“I’llcomewithyou.”
“What?No.”
“It’seasiestandthemosteffectiveuseofourtime.”
“Thinkthisthrough.WhywouldSamYao,celebrity,bevisitingmymom?WithmeasFangli?”
“Well,andwhatwouldFanglibedoingtakingthesubwayinfullgaladress?”Hegrinsandthosedimplesappearlikemagic.“Ibetyoudinnernoonewillnotice.DoyourmakeupandputonyourFangliclothesforwhenweleavethehotel.”
“You’resureyouwanttogo?Wemightgetrumbled.”
“AsIsaid,thiswillbemoreefficientsoitmakespracticalsense.”Hegivesmealook.“Trustme.I’mnotreckless.”
Hemustbeconfidentifhe’swillingtoriskblowingmyFanglicover,soIdon’tbackdownfromthebet.“You’reon.”
“Packahatandchangeofclothes.”Heraiseshiseyebrows.“I’llstartthinkingaboutwhereyou’lltakemefordinner.”Twenty-Four
SamleavesandIturntothedresssectoroftheclosettofindoneIcaneasilychangeinandoutofwhileinthecar.It’shardtofocus,becausealthoughthisisn’tthefirsttimethehomehascalledaboutcomingtocalmMomdown,itfeelsodd,moreurgent.IbitedownhardwhenitoccurstomethatherAlzheimer’smightbegettingworse.ThedoctorswarnedmetowatchformoodandpersonalitychangesandIthoughtIhad.HadIbeensoconcernedwiththisFangliplanthatIhadn’tnoticed?
WhenIfinallyfindadress,Ihavetowipemyclammypalmsonmythighsbeforetouchingthedelicatematerial.Ipullitoutandcheckitquickly,eagertogetgoing.Ithasatightwaistandfullskirtbuttherealdrawisthatitzipsuptheside,soIdon’tneedSam’shelptochange.Themakeupandwiggoonquickly.I’mgettingusedtoit.
Samarrives—withhiskey,whichIhadhimgetbackfromMeiincaseoffutureemergencies—asI’mstuffingaskirtandtankintoabackpack.
Hegivesmybaganincredulouslook.
“Youcan’tseriouslythinkyoucanwalkoutwearingthateveningdresswithanylonbackpackslungoveryourshoulder,”hesays.
“HowelsedoIpackmyclothes?”
Likeamagician,hedisplaysaplainleathertotelargeenoughtotransportasmallfarmanimal.
“Hermès,”hesaysasheputsinmyclothes,asifthisexplainsthegargantuansize.Maybeitdoes.“Where’sthehat?You’llneedthattotrytocoveryourfacewhenwegettoyourmotherbecauseyou’refullymadeup.”
Igiveittohim.“Whataboutyou?”
“I’mfine.Fanglicamebackaboutfifteenminutesago,sowe’regoodtogo.Luckilyshewasearly.”HelooksmeoverandIwonderwhatFangliappearancechecklistherunsoverbeforehegivesasingleapprovingnod.
WeheaddowntothecarandthistimeI’mabletosimplymovethroughthelobbywithoutobsessingaboutmywalk.I’mtooworriedaboutMomtocare—why’sshesoupset?SamhandsmeintothecarandIgivethedrivertheaddress.
ThenIturntoSam.“SinceI’mchanginginthecar,won’tthedrivernoticethatI’mnotFangliwhenwegettothehome?”
“I’veknownGregoralongtime,”Samsays.“Hecankeepasecret.”
“Good.”Ipulloffthewigandruffleupmyhair.“Ineedsomeprivacy.”
Heturnstolookoutthewindow,whichisluckilytinted.
“Canyoucoveryoureyes?”
“Really?”
“Pleasejustdoit.”
Heshootsmeaglancebutthencovershisfacelikeachildplayinghide-and-seek.Igetchangedinstagestomaximizethecoverage,likeatabadlydesignedgymwherethedoortothechangeroomcouldopenanymomentandrevealyoutotheworld.Ongoestheskirt,pulledupunderthedress.Iunzipthetop,turntofacetheotherwayandpullonthetanktop.Itakeoffthedress,yankonmyhat,andI’mGracieagain,orGraciewithfantasticcontour.
“Yourturn,”Isay.
Heturnsaroundandpeersatme.“Yousmearedyourlipstick.”
“Idid?”
“Here.”Hereachesoutwithhisthumbandrubsundermylip.
Oh.My.Histouchisgonealmostassoonasithappens,buttheechoofitthrumsthroughmybody.
“It’sgonenow,”hesays,lookingatmylip.
“Good?”Iclearmythroat.“Whataboutyou?”
HeshrugsofftheblazerandthecollaredshirttorevealawhiteT-shirtthatheuntucks,thenpullsoutasmallerbagfromhishugebag.Insideareapairofsneakers.Hebendsovertoputthemon,swearsashisseatbeltricochetshimback,manageshisshoes,andthenpullshisownhatdowntoshadehiseyes.Transformationcomplete,heliftshishandsasiftoinvitecommentandIhavetolaugh.
“Youhonestlythinknoonewillrecognizeyou?”
“Youneedtoseeyourmother,don’tyou?It’stheonlywaywecandothatandgettothegala.Theriskisnegligible.”
“Isit?”
“HowmanyAsianswillwesee?”
Ithinkaboutthehome.“Mymom.”
“Yeah.Ithinkit’llbefine.”Hesmiles.
“I’llintroduceyouasafriendfromworkwhogavemearide,”Isay.“Shedoesn’tknowIwasfired,sokeepthatquiet.Infact,bestifyoudon’ttalkatall.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellher?”
“Idon’twanttoupsether.”Ilookoutthewindow,feelingtheworryriseanddipasItellmyselfthathermoodmighthavepassedbythetimeIarrive,thenconvincemyselfthatshe’sinseriousdistressandthehomeisdownplayingitsoasnottoworrymeandherAlzheimer’sisgettingworseandI’llneedtofindhermorehelpand…
Catastrophizingissuchabitch.
Samtouchesmyhandbrieflyandbeginshummingquietlyasherepackshisbag.Istarthummingalongwithhimtocovertherotatingthoughtsinmyhead,gettingdistractedbyknowingthesongbutbeingunabletoputanametoit.Soonwe’reinahummingwar,eachofustryingtohumlouderthantheotheruntilIslapmylegintriumph,lettingoutasmallyelp.
“‘Girls&Boys’byBlur,”Iannounce.
“Tookyoulongenough.”Hegrins.
“ThereusedtobeaclubthatdidBritpopnightsandtheyplayedthiseverytime,”Isay.“Haddollarshots,too.”
“Notsureifthatsoundsappealingordangerous.”
“LittlebitofA,littlebitofB.”Isighwithnostalgia.“Itwassuchadingyclubandtheyhadthoseblacklightssoifyouworeawhitebraitwouldshowthroughyourshirt.”
Sam’seyesdriftdownbutthensnapuptomyface.“Ineverhadtoworryaboutthat.”
“Yeah.”Ishrug.“NotlikeIgotothoseplacesanymore.”
“Ineverwent.”
Ifrown.“AretherenoclubsinChina?”
“OfcoursetherearebutIalwayshadtogotoonesthatweregoodformyimage.”Helooksoutthewindow.
“Thennodollarshots.Bummer.”
“Definitelynot.”
“Iwaskiddingaboutitbeingabummer,”Iassurehim.“Imean,atthetime,itwasfuntogetdrunkandgrindonthedancefloorwithrandompeopleyou’dneverseeagain,butcheapboozehangoversarearealpain.”
Hegroans.“Nothelping.”
Iknowhe’stryingtomakemelaughandithelpsgetmethroughthedrive,eventhoughmykneeisjigglingasItrytochillout.Mom’snothurt.She’supset.Thedoctorssaidthiscanhappen.It’snotgoodbutit’snotunusual.
Weturnthecornerandthedreadreturns.“We’rehere.”
Hecatchesthechangeinmytoneandnods.Hegivesmyhandasofttouchandholdsthedooropenformeasweenterthehome.Itrytokeepfromrunninginthehall.
“Yousaidmymotherwasagitated?”IaskwhenIarrivebreathlessatthedesk.
“It’sbeenabaddayforher,”saysthenurse.SheglancesatSamandthenignoreshim.“Isitananniversary?Somethingthatwouldtriggerher?”
“No,Idon’t…”Istop,appalled.It’stheanniversaryofmydad’sdeath.“I’llgoseeher,”Iwhisper.
HowcouldIhaveforgotten?Guiltsickensme.Samwaitsuntilwe’veclearedthedesktotouchmyshoulder.“What’swrong?”
Withherdementia,Ican’tbelieveMomrememberswhattodayis,butIsupposesomedatesaresearedonyourmindforever.Or,inmycase,not.“Myfatherdiedtenyearsagotoday.It’swhyshe’supset.Ishouldhavebeenwithher.”
“Gracie.”Thistimehetakesmyhandinhis.“You’reherenow.That’swhatmatters.”
Iwanttobelievehim,butIcan’t.HekeepsmyhandinhisaswegotoMom’sroom,wherehereleasesit.“Workcolleagues,”hemurmurs.
Withabriefnod,Ipokemyfacearoundthedoor.Momisupandwanderingaroundtheroom,armsclaspedclosetoherchest.ImusthavemadeanoisebecauseshelooksupasSamrunshishanddownmyback.
“Mom?”
ShegreetsmewithaburstofChinesethatIcan’tunderstand.“Mom,it’sGracie.YouneedtospeakEnglish,okay?ShuoYingyu.”
MomseesSambehindmeandhereyeswiden.“XiaoHe?”
ThisIunderstand.“No.”Inearlylungeforward.“ThisisSam,afriend.Fromwork.He’safriendfromwork.Workfriend.”
ToSam,Isay,“Shethinksyou’reherlittlebrother.”
Samcomesintotheroomandreacheshishandout.“Nihao.WojiaoSam.Woshininu’erdetongshi.”IblesstheappbecauseSamspokeslowenoughtoletmeunderstandwhathesaid.
Momblinksagain.“Nihao?”Sheglancesatme.“Gracie?Sweetie?”
“Samdroppedmeoff.Itwasonhisway,”Isay.
“He’safriend?Chinese?”Shesizeshimup.“Married?”
“Mom!”
Samlaughs.“Onlytomywork.”
Sheclucksathim.“DoyoulikemyGracie’shair?Shecutittheotherday.Soshort.”
“Gracieislovely.”Hesaysitsimplyashelooksatme.“Youareluckytohaveherasadaughter.”
Shenods,satisfiedwiththispoliteanswerbecausewhatelsecanthepoorguysay,andrevertstoMandarin.Samlistensbeforeheturnstome.“Yourmotherwantstoshowmeaphotoofherbrother.”
Igotothecabinetandpulloutthetatteredphotoalbum.BeforeMomcameintothehome,Imadedigitalcopiesofallthephotosandhaveanotheridenticalalbumreadyifsomethinghappenstothisone.IwaituntilshesitsdownandwaveSamtotheseatacrossfromherbeforeIpassoverthealbumandsitdownonthebed.
Mom’scrookedfingerjabsdownataphoto,andIleanovertoseeamanwholookslikeSamonlybecausethey’rebothChinesemen.Samgivesherthesamesmileasherbrotherdoesinthephoto,andsheslapshislegandlaughs.
“GracieismuchlikeXiaoHe.”MomreachesoverandpatsmyhandlikeshedidwhenIwassmall.“Muchintegrity.Truetohimself,withacoreofrectitude.”
Suchanold-fashionedwordandmyfaceflamesbecauseinthirtyminutes,RectitudeGracieisgoingtoleaveandputonawiginacarsoshecantrickabunchofkidsintobelievingshe’safilmstar.
“Tellmemoreabouthim,”saysSam.
“Ah,hewasanengineer.Smart,smart.Wewereallveryproudofhim.”
“DoesheliveinChina?”
Hersmilefades.“HediedinanindustrialaccidentafterGraciewasborn.Shewasnamedafterhim.”
“Ididn’tknowthat.”HowcouldInotknowthat?
“He,forharmony,andtheremustbeharmonytohavegrace.Iowedhimmuch.”Sheshakesherhead.“Thepastremainsinthepast.”
ThebellringsinthehallandMomperksup.Atthehome,mealsarewhattetherherandshegetsupsetifsheneedstowait,soItellSamI’llbebackinaminute.DinnerhaswipedthoughtsofSam’ssingledomstatusoutofMom’smindandshewalkseagerlytothedininghallaftergivinghimonlyacursoryfarewellnod.
IdecidenottomentionDadasshe’sbetternowandinsteadgiveherakissandgreetthedinnerladiesathertable.Theyallfussovereachother,makingsuretheyhaveforksandwater.
SamisflippingthroughthealbumwhenIreturn.“Idon’tunderstandhowyoucanlooksomuchlikeFangliwhenthisisyourfather.”
ThepageisopentoaclassicpictureofDadfromtheearly1990s.Hisreddishhairispermedandhewearsaturtleneckandfannypack,armslungaroundayoungandhappyAgathawhoonlyreachestohisshoulder.Mom’swearingbikeshortsandanoversizesweatshirt.Whatanera.
“HealwayssaidhewashappyItookaftermymotherinsteadofhimbecauseshewasthemostbeautifulwomanintheworld.”
Samsmilesandhandsmetheclosedalbumtotuckaway.“Theywereverymuchinlove.”
“Theywere.”MyvoicecatchesasIhugthealbum.It’ssillybutI’mloathtohidethealbumbackinthedarkdrawer,likeI’mtuckingawayDad’smemory.“ThemoneyfromthisjobforFangli…IwantitforMom,tomoveherintoabetterplace.It’snotbecauseI’mgreedy.”
Samcomesoverandpullsmeintohischest.“Gracie.”Hisvoiceislow,andforabriefmoment,Iletmyeyescloseandsimplyfeel.Onthedayhedied,Dadheldmefiercely,asifhecouldn’tbeartoletmego.He’dlostsomuchweightfromthetreatmentthathisbonesalmostcreakedashegrippedmyshoulders.
“TenyearsagowhenDadhuggedme,Ididn’tknowthatwasthelasttimeI’dhavehisarmsaroundme,”IsayintoSam’schest.“Ididn’tknow.”Whydidn’tIknow?Ishouldhavesensedit,IshouldhaveacknowledgedthatI’dneverfeelhistouchagain.ItpassedmebyandI’dnevergetthatchanceback.There’snoredoforthatmoment.
“Gracie.”Sambringshishandupandrestsitonmyhairbutdoesn’tsaymorethanmyname.
Ican’tcry.IcriedsomuchforDadovertheyearsthatrightnowmydryeyesareburning.MybreathgoeshotagainstSam’sshirtandIturnmyheadslightlytotheside.I’mnotpantingbutmyheartisracingandherunshishandovermyheadwithslowanddeliberatestrokestocalmme.IlookatthewallbutIcan’tseeathing.I’monlyexisting.
Idon’tknowhowlongitisbeforeIbreakawayfromhim.“Weshouldgo,”Isay,rubbingmycheek.“OhGod,mymakeup.”
Sam’sshirtisstainedwithaperfectimprintofmyface.Helooksdown,andwhenhemeetsmyeyes,hisarelitwithgentlelaughter.“ThisismorethanIwearonthestage.”
“That’smyspecialoccasionface,”Isay.“Orwas.”
Idon’tlookatthealbumasIputitaway.“Thankyou,”IsaytothedoorwayinsteadofSam.Idon’twanttolookathim.I’membarrassedforhimtohaveseenmelikethat.
“You’rewelcome.”That’sallhesays,andIdecidetoleaveitatthatandwalkoutthedoor.Twenty-Five
GregorisdownthestreetwhereIinsistedhewaitwiththecarsothenursesdon’tseeusgetinandbecomesuspicious.It’salittletoofancyevenforanUberBlack,thatgreatdemocratizerofswishrides.Oncewe’reinthecar,mycomposurereturns.
“Ibroughtanextrashirtincase,”Samsays.Hepicksupthecollaredshirthe’dworndowntothecarandputsitaside.
ThenhestripshisT-shirtoff.Rightthereinfrontofme,SamYaoisshirtlessandhedoesn’tevencare.Half-naked,herummagesinthatgigantictotebeforemurmuringintriumphandpullingoutafoldedblackshirtthatheshakesoutwithasnap.Iknowit’srudebutIhavetostarebecauseIhaveneverseenabodylikethisinreallife.He’ssculpted,hisarmsfirmwithmuscleandhisshoulderswide.Littlemuscles,Idon’tevenknowwhatthey’recalled,rippledownhisribs.Afterhepullsontheshirt,heliftsuphishipstotuckitin—mymouthmighthavedroppedopenhere—andthenrunshishandthroughhishair.
“Shouldn’tyougetready?”heasks.
Iclosemyeyestorelivethememoryofhischest.“Turnaway.”
HedoesandIreversemytechniqueofearlier,takingoffthetankandpullingdownthedressandpattingitintoplacebeforeIremovetheskirt.ThecarseemstoosmallandSamveryclose.
Ipullonthezipperbutitsticks.“Damn.”
“What?”SamstartstoturnaroundbutIstophim.
“Don’tlook!”
“Allthatshiftingaroundandyou’renotdecent?”
Iliftupmyarmandcranemynecktoseethezipper.I’mscaredtopulltoohard,incaseIbreakitorripthedress.There’sonlyonechoice.“Ineedahand.”
Hegivesafurtivelookoverhisshoulder,asifhe’snotquitesurewhatlevelofundressI’mat.Confirmingeverythingofimportanceiscovered,hesays,“Zipper?”
It’sunfortunatethat,unlikeazipperattheback,whichwouldonlyshow…myback,thiszipperrevealsmyentiresidebetweenarmpitandwaist.Hecomestositbesideme.“Raiseyourarm.”
Whenhefiddleswiththezipper,hisfingersbrushalongmyribs,causingmyskintogoosebump.Please,pleaselethimnotnotice.Please.IgazeoutthewindowaswegodownUniversityAvenuetowardHospitalRow.“Someofthematerialiscaughtinthezipper,”hemutters.“Givemeasecond.”
Hereachesonehanddowninsidethedresstotrytowrestleitup.NowIhaveSam’sentirehandpressedagainstmeandhisheadleaningsoclosehisbreathmovesagainstthebareskinofmychest.NeverhaveIbeensogladtohaveputondeodorant.
“Gotit,”hesaysproudly.Hetugsthezipperclosed.MyarmisheldhighwhereIhaditoutofthewayasheworked,butsincetheblood’sbeenrunningoutofit,IloweritfasterthanIintendandendupwithmyarmlandingoverhisshoulder,partiallyembracinghim.
AlthoughIexpecthimtomoveaway,hedoesn’t.Hedoesn’tdoanythingbutlookatmeandIfreeze.
“Sorry.”Ilurchbackandscrambleformywig,whichIjamon.“Betterfixmymakeup.Wherearemyshoes?”I’mrambling.
“Holdon.”Hestillsmewithatouchonmyknee.“Thewigiscrooked.”
Hereachesuptotucksomeofmyhairunderandthenrearrangesthehaphazardhairhelmet,hiseyebrowsangleddownasheconcentrates.Nowhe’sdefinitelycloseenoughtokissandagain,foracrazymoment,IwonderwhatwouldhappenifIdid.
Itwouldbebad.I’moverthinkingthisthesamewayIdidattheartgallery,seeingromanticopportunitiesonlybecauseI’mwishingthemintobeing.HefinisheswiththewigandmovestohissideofthecarwhileIapplylipstick,blotit,andreapplyitbeforepowderingmyface.
Finally,Ipushthehairsosomestaysinfrontofmyshouldersastheresthangsbehindmyback.Meisaysitframesmyfacebetter.“AmIgood?”Iask.
Heshiftsoverandpullsthehairallbehindmyshouldersbeforemovingtohisoriginalseat.“Thisisbetter,”hesays.“Icanseeyourface.”
Iraisemyeyebrows.“SinceI’mtryingtonothavepeoplefocusonmyface,don’tyouthinkthefirstoneispreferable?”
“Ilikeitthisway.”
Oh.Oh.
“Also,”headds,“youowemedinner.”
“What?”
“AsIpromised,noonerecognizedmetoday.”Hegivesapleasednod.
“Giveittwelvehours,andifithasn’tshownuponsocialmedia,I’llconcede.”
Gregorpullsuptothehospitalentrancewherewe’remetbyatallwomanwithacellphoneandaclipboardwhointroducesherselfasJessica.“Thekidsareexcitedtoseeyou,Mr.Yao,”shesaysinawarmvoice.“Ican’ttellyouhowmuchweappreciateyoudoingthis,especiallysolastminute.Asrequested,therearenomediabutwe’dliketotakeafewphotosforthekids.”
“That’sfine,”hesays.Sam,forhispart,islegitimatelyexcitedattheideaofmeetingkidsandpeppersthePRwomanwithquestions.Howmanykids?Whatages?Whatshouldhebeawareof?Isheallowedtotouchthemorshouldheonlywave?HepausesattheentrancetosanitizehishandsatthedispenserandIfollowsuit.It’sahospital,afterall,andthekidsdon’tneedourgerms.
I’veneverbeeninachildren’shospitalbeforesoIletthetwoofthemgoaheadofmeandchatasIexaminetheatrium,whichispaintedwithmuralsandhascartooncharactersonthesigns.Twopeoplepassholdinghandsandawomanhugsalittlebabywearingahelmettoherchest.I’mharboringalotofemotionsfromearlierandlookcarefullyatpeople’sfaces.Someareinterestedinthetwopeopleindressyclotheswalkingthrough—Jessica’sattitudescreamsfamouspeoplealert—butmostlythepeoplewepassareinvolvedintheirownworldsandtheirownfamilies.Wetakeanelevatoruptoawindowedroompackedwithkidsandparentsaswellasfoosballtablesandgames.
“Thisiswheretheolderkidscancomeandhangout,”saysJessica.
OneofthekidshasanIVpoledrapedwithlinesandlinesofbrightlycoloredbeads.“Arethosesignificant?”Iask.
“They’recalledbraverybeads.Thekidsearnthem,oneforeveryprocedureoreventtheyundergo.”
SamandIbothstopdead.“Thatchildhasmany,”hesays.“Hundreds.”
“They’retoughkids,”Jessicasayssimply.“Areyouready?”
IholdbackbecausethisisSam’sshow,andthekidsareheretomeetareal-liveactionhero,notafakemoviestar.Hestandsoutsidetowaitforhisentrance,hisentirefacelitup.OneofthekidshasbeennominatedastheMC,andhemakestheintroductionbetterthananyUFCpromotercould;wecanhearhisboomingvoiceinthehallway.Bythetimehe’sdescribedoneofSam’sfightscenesincomprehensivedetail,completewithsoundeffects,theentireroomislaughingandcheering.
“PleasewelcomeSamYao!”
Samleapsintotheroomandlandsinafightingstance,causingchaostoensue.Ican’tstopsmilingandlaughing,andJessicagrinsfromeartoear.“Theytoldmehewouldn’thavetimetocome,butIknewhewould,”sheconfided,herdarkeyesglowing.
“Howdidyouknow?”
“Laurence,theboywhodidtheintroduction,wrotehimaletterthatwesenttoacontactatthetheater.IcriedwhenIreadit.TherewasnowayMr.Yaocouldhavesaidno,notifhereadit.”Shenodsintotheroom.“Thesekidsmisssomuchoflife.Comeonin.”
Samisdeterminedtomeeteverypersonintheroom,andinsteadofsurroundinghim,thecrowdguideshimsohecanspendaprivatemomentwithallthekids.Onegirl,sittinginawheelchair,coversherfacewithshynessandSamkneelsbesideher.Whateverhewhispersintoherearcauseshertogigglehysterically,whichmakeshimlaugh,abigopenthingthatI’dneverheardbefore.
“AreyouWeiFangli?”Ilookdowntoseeasmallblondboywithbigglassesstaringatme.Icrouchdown,blessingthefullskirt,sowe’rethesameheight.
Ican’tbringmyselftosayIam,soinsteadIsay,“What’syourname?”
“Laurence.”
“Laurence!Iwasimpressedwithyourintroduction.You’reabigfanofSam’s.”Ileanin.“Me,too.”That’strueenough.
“Ididn’tknowyouwouldcome.”HisblueeyesbehindtheglassesarehugeandhisskinsotranslucentIcanseetheveinstracingbeneath.
“Ihopeit’sokaythatIdid.”
“Wohenkaixin.”
ThankGodIunderstandthatandcansay,“NideZhongwenshuodehenhao.”
“I’mlearningsoIdon’thavetoreadthesubtitlesofSam’smovies,”hesayswithpride.“Ihavealotoftimehereatthehospital.”
“Whatabouthismoviesisappealing?”MythighsacheandIlowermyselftomyknees.
“He’sreal,don’tyouthink?”Hebiteshislipsasheconsidershiswords.“Andgood.Evenwhenhebeatspeopleup,it’stoprotectothers.Nottobemeanorshowoff.”
“Averydecenttrait.”
“Ithinkyou’rethesameinyourmovies.WhenyousentSamonthatmissioninthatmovietodie,youdidn’twantto.Whydidyou?”
“InThePearlLotus.”Ithinkabouthowtodescribeittothischildandthendecidewhathethinksismoreimportant.“Whydoyouthinktheempressdidthat?”
“Well,youlovedSam,”hesayspromptly.“Helovedyou,too.”
“Thecharactersdidinthemovie,”Iclarify.“Yes.”
“Idon’tthinkyoushouldhave,”hesaysearnestly.“Youdidn’teventalktohimaboutit.Hemighthavehadmoreideas.”
“Thatwouldhavebeensmarter,”Isay.“Youshouldwriteyourownmovie.”
Hefrowns.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youcanwriteamovie.Ascreenplayofyourown,tellingthestoryyouwant.Oraplayifyouwantactorstodoitonastageatatheater,likeSamisdoingnow.”
Laurence’seyesarehuge.“Peopledothat?”
“Suretheydo.Ittakesalotofwork,butyoucandoit.”
Theboylooksdownatthefloor.Awomancomesupandsmilesatme.“Mom,”hesays,adjustinghisglasses.“WeiFanglisaysIcanwriteascreenplay.Isthattrue?Icandothat?She’sinthemovies,soitmustbetrue,right?Isit?Shewouldn’tlietome,wouldshe?”
I’mabouttoexplaintothewomanbutshe’sbusynodding.“Sureyoucan,baby.”
“Willyoushowmehow?”Laurenceturnstomewithhugeeyes.
“I’veneverwrittenone,”Isay.Thatatleastisn’tlyingtothekid.“Anactor’sjobistoactoutwhatyouwrite.Icantellyouonethingthatmighthelp.Doyouwanttohearit?”
Henods.
“Nooneelsecanbeyou.Nooneelsecantellyourstorylikeyou.Youareunique,sowritethemovieyouwanttosee.”
“Noonecantellmystory,”herepeatswithwonder.
“Onlyyou.”
Hebeamsatme.“I’mgoingtostartrightaway.Ialreadyhaveanideaaboutadragon.DoyouthinkSamwillstarinit?”
“WillIstarinwhat?”SamcomesupbesidemeandLaurence’seyesgosobigtheyengulfhislittleface.
“ThemovieI’mgoingtowrite.FanglisaysIshould.DoyouthinkIshould?”
“Yes.”There’snohesitation.“Youdoitandthensendittome.”
BehindLaurence,hismomducksherheadastheboyscreechesinjoy.Iseethetearsonhercheeks.
“WeneedtoheadoutbutcanIgiveyouahug?”asksSam.“Thankyouforinvitingme.”
BothSamandIhugLaurence,whoissofragileI’mscaredtoholdhimtootightly.He’slikeatinybird.Hismotherwalksusout.“Thankyouforcoming,”shesaysquickly.
“IhopeIdidn’toverstepbysuggestinghewritehisownwork,”Isay.I’mfilledwithregretthatIsaidsomethingwrong.
Sheshakesherhead.“Tohaveaprojecttoabsorbhimwillbewonderful.”
ThemomdisappearsandJessicaleadsSamandmebackouttotheentrance.She’sthrilledwithhowitwent,andIletSamdealwiththesmalltalkbecauseI’mrackedwithguiltaboutLaurence.HethoughtIwasFangli.Itdidn’tmatterthatabunchofrichartcollectorsormovieindustrypeopleorrandomsonthestreetthinkI’mFangli,butthisdoes.Shewouldn’tlietome,wouldshe?
Wethankthewomanandgetintothecarforthegala.Unlikeme,Samisjazzedbymeetingthekidsandcan’tstopsmiling.Theeventisdownnearthewateratanartgallery/eventspace,andIpraythere’snoartIneedtohaveintellectualopinionsabout.Thisdayhasdrainedme,andIpressmyforeheadagainstthewindow.
“Areyouill?”asksSam.
“Thinking,”Isay.“Aboutthekids.”
“Theyweregreat.”Hefixeshiscollarandsmilessobighisdimplesappear.“Youdidwelltosuggestwritingtothatboy.Laurence.Icouldseeinhisfacethatitwaslikeadoorinhismindhadbeenopened.”
“HewantedtodoitbecauseWeiFanglitoldhimhecould,”Iburstout.“I’mnotFangli.Itwasafraud.”
Sam’sdimplesvanish.“Thetriggerisirrelevant.Oncetheideayoucandosomethingoccurstoyou,that’sallthatmatters.WhocareswhotwiststhehandleforLaurenceaslongashecanwalkthroughthedoor?”
“It’snotright,”Isay,diggingin.“Theendsdon’tjustifythemeans.”
“Idisagree,”hesays.“Apositiveoutcomecancomefromanegativepath.”
Decidingthisconversationisabouttodevolveintoanunwinnabledoesnot,doessoargument,Igritmyteethandletitgo,inpartbecausethisisadeepphilosophicaldebateandIneedtimetoorganizemypoints.IneedanEppyforthataswell,awaytoneatlycategorizetheswirlinmybrainandformulatethemessofimpressionsandreflectionsintoclearandarguableideas.
Samhasalreadymovedontoremindmewhowe’llbemeetingatthegalaandItrytofocusonhim.We’retheretorepresenttheOperationOblivioncastsincethedirectorcouldn’tmakeit,andMeihadconfirmedthatnoneofFangli’spersonalcontactsareontheguestlist.Ifarrivingatthemoviepremierewasasolideightonthestressscale,thishoversnearathree.
“Gracie?”Sampeersatme.“Areyoulistening?”
“Yes.”Iwasn’t.MaybeFangliwasright.LaurenceandotherfanswanttheideaofFangli,whattheyprojectonher
“WhatwasItalkingabout?”
Itakeaguess.“Theguestlist.”
Samlookssuspiciousbutwearrivebeforehecanreply.Hehelpsmeoutofthecar,andImakesuremysmileiscalibratedtoshowhowhappyIamtobehere.There’saphotographer—Inowunderstandthateveryeventhirestheirownphotographer—andthisoneisstunnedsilentwhenSamlooksather,hercameraloweringsoshecanseehimwithoutafilter.
Wewalkintotheeventspace,whichhasbeendecoratedwithhugefloralgarlandswovenwithdyeddaisiesthatsweepacrosstheceilingandaredrapeddownthewalls,interspersedwithlongfringeshangingfromtheceilingandlitfromwithintolookliketheyglow.Therearepastelneonlightsalongthefloor.Theartdirectionmusthavebeentomakeitlooklikeaunicornishostingaweddingatclubnight,andIwonderwhytheydidn’tgivethemoneytheyspentonthosedecorationsdirectlytothehospital.Wewanderuptothesilentauctiontables,coveredwithtabletstoenterbids.ItrynottochokewhenIseethatminimumbidsareinthethousandsortensofthousands,foreverythingfromacruise(betheprivateguestofabankCEO)toaspaweekforthewinningbidderandthreeguests.
It’salot.It’stoomuch.Ineedtotakeabreath.
“Excuseme,”IsaytoSam.“I’llberightback.”
Hefollowsmyglancetothewashroomandnods.Aminutelater,I’maloneinastallandbreathinginthelightlavenderscentofthediffusersonthecounters.Ican’tstopthinkingaboutLaurence’sexpression.Inthecar,Samaskedwhocaredhowthehandlewastwisted.
Me.Icare.
MomsaidmyuncleHehadrectitude.Ipulloutmyphoneandquicklygoogletoconfirmit’swhatIthink:moralrighteousness.Asenseofrightandwrongandthewillingnesstoactonit.Ididnotshowrectitudetoday.IhavenotbeenshowingrectitudesinceItookthejobwithFangli.IsthisthepersonIwantedtobe?IneedthemoneyforMom,butIknowifItoldherwhatIwasdoingtogetit,shewouldbehorrified.
Worse,shewouldbedisappointedinme.
ThedooropensandIrealizethatifmyuniversityyearshavetaughtmeanything,it’sthatalthoughbarwashroomshavewitnessedmanyanexistential/lovecrisis,theyaren’tgreatplacestohavethem.Icheckmyfaceinmyphoneandgoouttowashmyhands.Imightnothaveshownanyethicalmoralsearlier,butmybusinessmoralsknowthatImade
OnceIforcemyselfintotherightheadspace,thegalagoessurprisinglywell.Despitemydarknightofthesoul,I’mabletochannelFanglisosmoothlythatSamfeelsconfidentenoughtoleavemenowandthensowecanstopourcodependentorbiting.AfewpeoplespeaktomeinMandarin,butwhenIanswerinEnglishwithmyexplanation,theytakeitingoodhumor.Noonetouchesme.Todd’snotthere.Nooneasksforanautographoraphoto.ThefoodistastyandIleavethecarrotsontheside.Thespeechesareevengoodbecausethey’reaboutthekids.Idon’tdrink,butholyGod,doIwantto.IdecidetoemptythatminibarwhenIgethome.
SoIdo.Twenty-Six
Myclosefriendhangxietyvisitswithavengeanceatfiveinthemorning,yankingmeintototalwakefulnesswithitsgrabbyhands.WhatdidIdo?WhatdidIsay?AtleastIhadtheforesighttohidemyphonebeforeIopenedthatfirsttinyvodkabottlesoIdon’tneedtoworryaboutdiscoveringhumiliatingandmisspelleddrunkentexts.
Igroanintothepillowandtrytoignoretheparadeofimagesthattrotthroughmymind.ButIcan’t.It’snotwhatIdidwhileIwasdrinkingthat’saffectingme;it’swhatleduptomeopeningthatfridgeinthefirstplace.IcanstillfeelDad’sphantomarmsaroundme,butwhenhelooksatme,it’swithLaurence’shugeeyes,sparklingwithexcitementattheprospectofwritingamovieforhisfavoriteactor.Ipullthepillowovermyfaceandnearlyhyperventilatefromstressandlackofoxygen.
IneedtotellFanglithatIcan’tdothisanymore.
There’smorethanamonthleftonthiscontractbutseeingitthroughtotheendfeelswrong,oratleastwrongforthepersonIwanttobe.IwishitwasmorestraightforwardbecauseIdon’twanttolietopeoplebutIhatehavingtotellFangliI’mbreakingmypromise
Thenthere’sthemoney.WhatFangliofferedismorethantwoyears’salaryandalottowalkawayfromwithoutadamngoodreason.That’sMom’sticketoutofGlenLake.
Curlinguponmyside,Iwrapmyarmsaroundapillow.Iwantsomeonetotalkto,butIcan’ttellMomandAnjalimadeitclearfromthebeginningthiswasabadidea.SamandFangliandMeiareobviouslynotgoodcandidatesforaheart-to-heart.
Likealways,I’monmyown.
Iturnoverandhitthepillowwithanimpotentfist.I’malwaysonmyown.Inmoviesandbooks,womenseemtohavea“yougo,girl”squad-posseofpersonalcheerleadersbutthat’snothowmylifeturnedout.Mostofthetime,it’snotanissuebuttodayallIwantisaperson,myperson,whoIcancallandwhowilldropeverythingtobebymyside.AnjaliandIaregettingcloserbutwe’renotatthatlevelandIdon’twanttobeanuisance.IseeitwithFangliandSamandIwantthesamebondbecauseifIhadthatperson,Icouldaskthemforadvice.IcouldtellthemthatIwastiredofblendinginbutthatIdon’twanttostandoutthewayFanglidoes.I’daskthemhowIcanbemybestGracie.
Andthey’dletmetalkandsoothemeandthenprobablytellmethisisn’tthewaytodoit.
WhatshouldIdo,then?
IthinkofwhatAnjaliwouldsay.Youknowwhatyouneedtodo
Ineedtobreakthecontract.Ineedtogiveupthatmoneyandthefreedomitrepresents.Irollonmyback.Idon’twanttodothatatallbutIcan’tfeellikethisanymore.Idon’twanttolie.IwanttobelikethemanIwasnamedafter,amanwhohadprinciplesandstucktothem.Iwanttostartlivingmyownlifeandstopputtingitonholdforothers.
That’senoughtogetmeoutofbed.Idrinksomewater,pullonarobe,andgositoutsideonthebalcony,theearlymorningcoolactingasabalmfortheslightnausearemainingfrommyhangover.Iwatchthesunrisewithmynotebookonmylap,butmycontentmentwithwatchingthewavesonthelakeonlylastsaminutebeforeIneedtodosomething,anything.
Iopenthenotebooktoafreshpageandstarttowork.Ofcourse,itgoeswellbecauselifeislikeoneofthosestarsyoumakebydrawingalineup,downandtothesides.Love,health,wealth,family,andworksitontheangles,andifonegoeswell,itpullstothesideandthelinescontract.Loveandfamilylifegreat?Betyougetfired.Excellentnewjob?Guesswho’sgettingdumped.Everythinghoveringinequilibrium?Thingsareboring.It’slikelifedoesn’thaveenoughspacetoexpandthoselinessoyoucanexperienceallyouwantallatonce.
OnceI’mhappywithwhatIhave,Iputthenotebookawayandgetaminttea.Rightnow,mywork—Eppy—isgoingwellandcontractingeverythingelse,soI’llfocusonthat.SofarIhavethebasicideaofitsetoutinspreadsheetform.It’sbasicallyadaycalendarbutwithcolumnsfordifferentareasofyourlife,soyoucanseeataglanceallthethingsyouhavetodoandwhenyouhavetimetocompletetasks.Itapmyfingeronthetable,thinkinghardandglancingoverthenotesImadeaftertalkingtoSam.AtleastIcanbegratefulIhavethis.Onethingisworking.
Whenapalelightbreaksacrossthehorizon,Idecidetogoforawalktoclearmymind.ThetensionaboutFangliisgonenowbecauseIknowwhatIneedtodo.I’lltellherI’msorrybutIcan’tworkforheranymore.ThenI’llsuggestatherapist.Iwon’thint;I’lltellherstraightoutthewayIshouldhavetheotherday.
Ipullonasweaterandstuffmyfeetintoapairofsandalsandmyphoneintomypocket.Inthehallway,theonlysoundismysolesscufflingacrossthecarpetandthedingoftheelevatorwhenitarrives.TheconciergeisbusymakingnotesinabindersoIslipoutwithouthimseeingme.
Ilovewalkingaroundacityasitwakesup,thedoorsandwindowswinkingopenasifthey’retheeyesofthestreet.Afewpeopleareoutevenatthisearlyhour,yawningovercupsofcoffeeclutchedinlazyhands.Awomanwalksdownthemiddleofthesidewalkwearinglastnight’sdressandasatisfiedsmile.She’slimpingabitinherhighheelsandthenshepauses,balancesherselfagainstthewallandunstrapsthem.Whenshepassesme,she’swalkingbarefootandswinginghershoesasshehumsthissummer’sDrakesong.
“Gracie?”Amandressedallinblackwithaballcapstopsandpullsouthisearbuds.It’sSam,sweatyfromamorningrun.“You’reupearly,”hesays.
“Icouldn’tsleep.”
Hepeersatmeandtakesoffhishatasifthatwillhelphimseebetter.“Areyouwell?”
Now.IshouldtellhimrightnowsohecanprepareFangli.“Sam,Ineedtotalktoyou.”
“Whatabout?”Helooksapprehensive,probablysincenothinggoodevercomesafterweneedtotalk
Ahappybopburstsfromhishandandheliftshisphone.“Mei,”hesays.“Strange,sheusuallytexts.DoyoumindifIanswer?”
Iwavepermission;I’mcuriousaswellandthiswillgivemetimetothinkofhowtophrasewhatIwanttosay.IneedtogetitoutbeforeIcanfeelbadaboutleavingtheminthelurch.Thekeyistomakeitclearthere’snochangingmymind,thatit’sveryunfortunatebutthere’ssimplynothingtobedoneaboutit.Sympathetictothesituationbutmatter-of-factinhowit’sgoingtoend.
Sam’sexpressiondarkensandIcanhearafaintechoofMei’svoice.“Hao,”hesays.Theytalkforanotherminuteandhedisconnects.
“Wehaveaproblem,”hesays.“Fangliissick.”
“Likewiththefluorsomething?”
Hemoveshisphonefromonehandtotheotherasheinspectsthestreet.“Wereyougoingbacksoon?”
IturnaroundandwestartwalkingnorthbacktotheXanadu.Whenthesunappearsinaballoforange-yellowatthecrossstreet,Iraisemyhandtoshadowmyeyes.Samfishesaroundinhispocketandhandsmeapairofpainfullystylishaviators.“Here.”
They’regiganticonmyface,whichisexactlyhowIlikethem.Heglancesoverandnods.“Nice,”heapproves.
“Whydoyouhavesunglassesstuffedinyourpocketwhenyou’rerunning?”
“Incaseitgetstoosunny.”Helooksatmeasifthisshouldbeobviousandcoughs.“Youlookgood.Keepthem.”
“Icangetmyownbutthanksfortheloan.”Iwrigglethemupmynoseuntilmyeyelashesbrushthelensesbeforepointingtoaconveniencestore.“Let’sgrabsomeorangejuiceifshe’ssick.”
Heholdsmeback.“It’snotthatkindofsick.”
There’sasinkingfeelinginmygut.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Meisaysshewon’tgetoutofbed.Shewon’tanswerbesidessayingshe’stootiredtowork.”
“Hasshedonethisbefore?”
“Onceduringamoviebutshewasn’tdueonsetforafewdaysandshewasbetterbythen.”
“Whathappenedtomakeherbetter?”
Helookspuzzled.“Shesaidsheneededsleep.That’sit.”
I’msoangryonFangli’sbehalfIcanbarelybreathe.IknowSamisdoingthebesthecan,orsaysheis,butit’snotenoughandIthinkheknowsit.ThatI’mcomplicitisnotmakingmefeelbetter.
Hechecksfortrafficandstepsintothestreet.“Weneedyoutohelpus.”
“No.”Idon’tneedtogetanydeeperintothis.Imademydecision.
“Please.Youdon’tneedtotakeherplaceonstage.Wehaveanunderstudyandthere’snoshowtoday.”
Igoggleathim.“Oh,good.”Likethatwasevergoingtohappen.
“Wewereduetofilmapromospotfortheplayforthesecondphaseofthemarketingcampaign.Ithastobedonetoday.”
“Whycan’ttheyuseacliplikeeveryoneelse?”
Hemakesaface.“Theywantitlive.It’spartofasegmenttheydothathasgoodsocialmediareach.We’recommitted.There’snotalotofdialogueandyou’requickenoughtogetit.”
HemightthinkI’mquickbutI’mslowrightnow.“AreyousayingyouwantmetopretendI’mFanglitopromoteherownplay?”Thisistoomuch.Thisismorechutzpah,cojones,andbigbitchenergythanIcanconceiveof,letalonemuster.
“Yes.”
“There’snoway.”
“Youcandoit.I’vebeenwatchingyouwithpeopleattheevents.”
“Sam,it’sthedumbestideaI’veeverheard.”
“Fanglineedstime.”Hehesitates.“Please.Ineedyourhelp.”
Thatactivatesmyinnerpeoplepleaser,apracticedmusclethatcanflexstrongerandfasterthanmyfledglingvowtobebetter.Godfuckingdamnit.MyplanstogiveupmycontractdisintegratebutIgraspontosomethingIcandothatmightmitigatesomeofmydismayatbeingalyingliarwholies.Thisisit,Ipromisemyself.Oncethisisover,I’lltellthemIneedtobreakthecontract.
“Ononecondition.”
“What?”Eveninhisdesperation,he’scautious.
“YougetFanglihelp.Atherapist.”
Hisfaceclouds.“I’vetried.”
“Youneedtotryharder,”Isay.“Lookather.Sheneedshelp.”
“Ican’tforceher.”
IstopsoIcanturn,takeoffthesunglasses,andglareathimwithfullforce.“Weren’tyoutheonetotellmeyouwereagreatactor?Figureitoutandconvinceher.Otherwiseyoucanfilmthisthingbyyourself.”
WewalkanotherblockbeforeSamturnstome.“It’sadeal.”
“Good.”
Wewalkanotherblock.“Sam,there’snowayIcandothis.”
“We’llrunitthroughafewtimeswhenwegetback.”Heglancesaround,thenreachesouttotugmecloseinafriendlyhug.“There’snooneI’dtrustmoretodothis.”
“What?”Hisarmfeelslikehome.
Heturnsmearound.“Gracie,you’vemanagedtoimpersonateFangliwithindaysofstudyingher.Youhaveanaturaltalent.Ihavefaithinyou.”
“That’snotwhatyousaidamonthago.”
Samsighs.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”
“Oh,youknow.Anapology?”
“Iapologize.”
Ithinkaboutthis.“MorespecificallyI’dlikeyoutosayyouwerewrongtojudgemelikethat.”
“Iwasabsolutelywrong.Iapologize.”
“Becauseyoudidn’tknowme.”
“Right,butbeforeyougettoofardownthispath,IshouldpointoutyouthoughtIwasanarrogantasshole.”
Ifrown.“What’syourpoint?”
“Judgmentgoesbothways,Gracie.”
Igivehimabigsmile.“Butyousee,youwerewrong.”
Hebowshishead.“Youwin.Now,willyoupleasehelpme?”
“I’lltrybutIreiteratethatIthinkthisisabadidea.”
“Itwillbefine.”Heraiseshiseyebrow.“Plus,Icancarryyou.”
“Okay.”
“YouknowIhaveanOscar.”
“Iknow.”
“BestActor.FirstChinesemantowinone.Historicmoment.”
“Sam.”
“So.I’mthatgood.”
Ionlysigh.Twenty-Seven
SamtellsmenottogointoseeFangliandforthis,atleast,Iagree.Duringmybaddays,thelastthingIwantedwastohavesomeonehoveringaroundmeandIdon’twanttomakethingsworse.InsteadIsendheratextofheartemojisandhugsandthenavideoofmeblowingakisssosheknowsI’mthinkingabouther.AfterIsendit,theOperationOblivionscriptarrivesinmyemail.
Startatpage47,saysSam’smessage.
Luckily,I’vealreadyreaditandseentheplay.Iclosemyeyestorememberwhathappenedinthescene.Fanglididn’tsaymuch,buttherewasalotoflooking.AlotofverysensuallookingthatappearsextraordinarilystupidwhenIexperimentinthemirror.Igrabmyphoneandgoogle“actingbasics.”Thefirsthittellsmehowimportantitistolearnmycraft.
CheckingthetimeconfirmsIamcapital-SScrewed.Ican’tlearnthecraftofactingtoaprofessionallevelinninetyminutes.
IthrowmyselfdownonthecouchandtoppleoversoI’mlyingonmyside.I’mabouttohumiliatemyselfinfrontofanentirefilmcrewwithnohopeofitbeingkeptasecretbecausethepointofthisfuckingendeavoristocaptureitforpublicviewingonacitywideandpotentiallyglobalscale.
Whyisitsohardtosaynotoeveryoneexceptmyself?No,Fangli,I’mnotgoingtopretendtobeyou.No,Sam,I’mnotgoingtotrytoactinyourpromo.No,Todd,I’mnotgoingtoletyouintimidateme.WhyamIsoworriedaboutwhatthesepeople,allofwhomareorwereusingmefortheirownendswithoutacare,thinkaboutme?Inolongerliveontheplainswhereostracismfromthegroupwillcausemetostarve.NoneofthemcarewhatIthinkaboutthem.
Myphonebuzzes.It’sSam.Here.
Ianswerthedoor.“Isn’titeasiertoknock?Also,thisisabadidea.”
“Textingisequallyeasyandthenyoudon’tneedtolookthroughthepeephole.Ifyoudon’tliketheplan,I’mhappytohearanideathatresultsinusgettingthisshottodaywithFanglioranappropriatedesignate.”Hepointstotheconnectingdoor.“Iwentintoseeher.”
“And?”
“Aftersomebeggingandthreats,neitherofwhichfeltgoodorcomfortabletodo,Fangliagreedtoseesomeonewhomakesemergencyhousecalls.She’llbehereintwohours.”
“Youdidtherightthing.”
HecloseshiseyesandleansdowntoresthischeekonmyheadasifI’mapillow.Ifreeze.“Ihopeso.”
Whenhestraightensup,Ileapacrosstothesinktofillaglassofwaterwiththeeagernessofsomeoneescapingadesert.Benormal,Gracie.Igriptheglasswithnumbfingers,hearingSamspeakinthedisembodied,unintelligiblevoiceofaCharlieBrownadult.
“Andthatshouldbeit,”concludesSam.Ihaven’theardathing.
AtleastFangliwillgethelp,whichmeansIcanstopbeingworriedforherandtransfermyfulldistressbackontome.
“Sam,Ican’tact.”
“You’vebeenactingforovertwoweeks,asIpointedoutbefore.Areyoulistening?You’renotevenlistening.”
I’mspiraling.“That’snotacting.I’mmimicking.”
“Semanticsandifyoucandoitthere,thendoithere.”
“Itwon’twork,”Isayimmediately.“ThemakeuppeoplewillknowI’mnother.Theyhavetoseemyfaceupclose.”
“Luckily,Meihasanewwomaninfortodaywho’snevermetyou.Norhasanyoneonthiscrew.”
That’sconvenient,butstill.“It’sabadidea,”Irepeat.“Itwon’twork.”
“Whynot?”Heasksthisasthoughearnestlyinterestedinmyanswer.
Whynot?Justbecausedoesn’tseemlikethebestanswerbutIalsocan’tthinkofanotherone.Thinkinganoptionwon’tworkisthedefaultmodeoftheDefeatists,whichI’vealwaysconsideredtobemypeople.WhatifforonceIthoughtitmight?
IcancopyFangli.IcanpretendtobeherbecauseIhavebeen.IfIcandothatinreallife,Icanpretendtoactasheracting,couldn’tI?Thesementalgymnasticsareexhaustingandit’snotmadeanybetterwhenIsuddenlyunderstandwhyIhaven’tdismissedSamoutofhand.It’sbecausedeepdown,Iwanttotry,thesamewayIwantedtotrytobeFangli’sdouble.IwanttoseeifIcandoit.Thedenialsaremostlyface-saving,soifIscrewitup,IcanpointbackasanItoldyouso
I’msotiredoflyingtomyself.
IlookatthescriptandbackatSam.“Tellmewhattoexpect.”
He’sagoodteacherandcoachesmethroughtheprocess.Firstwereaditthrough,onlythelines.Thenthelineswiththefeeling.IchannelmyinnerFanglitodothis.Thefinalstepistheacting.Samstopsmealmostimmediately.
“You’rethinkingtoohardabouthowtobelikethecharacter,”hetellsme.“Youneedtofeelit,tobethecharacter.Closeyoureyes.”
Iclosethembutnotalltheway.
Hemakesanimpatientsound.“Closethem.”
Thenhecomesbehindmeandputshishandsovermyeyes,blockingoutthelight.Hisvoicecomesclosetomyear.“Rightnow,you’renotGracie.You’renotFangli.You’reLin,awaitressinarun-downrestaurantwhowantedbetterthings.You’reinlovewithamanwhoyouknowwillleavebutyouwanthim,eventhoughyou’resupposedtomarrysomeoneelse—acruelmanyourfamilychose.Jimmyisanescape,evenifit’sonlyfortheday.You’reconflictedbuthere,inthismoment:All.You.Want.Is.Him.”
Hetakesawayhishands,andwhenIlookathim,he’sJimmy,mysalvation.
“Whyareyouhere?”IknowFangli’svoiceandIpitchminethesameasshewould,lightbutlow.
“Ican’tleavethisunfinished.”
WefinishthesceneandSamstepsback,handsonhips.“Thatwasgood,”heapproves.“Goodenough.”
GoodenoughforSamisfantasticforme,andIcan’tstopgrinning.Thatwassatisfyingtodo.Ihadsucharush,likebeingintotalflow.
“Thenextsceneyou’resafefromdialogue.”Hecoughs.“Weneedtokiss.”
Irearbackasifacobradroppeddownfromtheceiling.“Sorry,IthinkImisheard.”Akisswasnotonpage47ofthescript.
“It’salaterscene,”heexplainsasifit’sthetimecontinuityI’mstuckon.“We’vebothacceptedwe’reinlove.”
“Weneedtokiss.”Icrossmyarms.“Tenderly?Passionately?Withsweetregret?”IthinkIknowtheexactscenebutIwantitconfirmed.
“Passionately.”
“Iamnotpreparedforthis.”
Tomysurprise,heburstsoutlaughing.“Nooneis,ever.It’sthemostawkwardthingintheworld.Iuseaboutabottleofmouthwash.”
Jesus,Ihadn’teventhoughtaboutmybreath.Anotherworry.“Dowehaveto?”
“IsitbettertoknowI’mself-consciousaswell?”
“Yes?”Notreally,becausehe’sSamfuckingYaoandofcourseIwanthimdesperatetokissmebutinprivateandbecausehewantsto,notbecauseofascriptdirection.“There’snowaytogetoutofthis?”
“I’msorry.”Hesoundsgenuinelyregretful.“Itried.”
Itakeadeepbreath.Thismaybemylasttimehelpingthem,soImightaswellgooutwithabang.“Okay.”
“Wecanpractice.”
“Great.”
Eitherhedoesn’tsensethesarcasmordecidestoignoreit.Hecomesuptomeandhe’ssoclose.
Mouthwash.AllI’vehadthismorningiscoffee.“Excuseme.”IduckunderhisarmandruntothebathroomwhereIproceedtoeradicatemostoftheskinfrommytongueandthetoplayerofenamelfrommyteeth.Ievenbrushmyinnercheeks.
“Better?”heaskswhenIcomeout.
“Yes.”
“Areyouready?”
“Yes.”No.
Heleansinagain,onearmdroppingdowntomywaisttobringmecloseastheotherhandliftsmychin.Dazedbyhisfacesoclosetomine,Ioverstepandpromptlystomponhisfoot.
“Ow!”Hedropsmeandleanstograbhistoes,knockinghisforeheadagainstmychinintheprocess.
“Sam,watchit!”Irubmyfaceasheglaresatme.
“Thathurt,”hesays.
“Youcameatmetoofast.Iwasunprepared.”
“DidIordidInotsaythewordsAreyouready?”Hestraightensup.
“Youdid,”Iadmit.
“Yousaidyouwere.Yousaidyes.”
“IthoughtIwas!”
Helooksatme,suddenlymoreserious.“Ifyoutrulydon’twanttokissme,Iwon’tforceyou.Thisisuptoyou.”
C’mon,Gracie.Irubmyarmstogroundmyselfwhilestaringathislips.
“IkissFanglilikethisalmosteverydayonstage,”heoffers.“Trythinkingofitlikekissingamannequin.”
“That’snothelpfulbutthanksfortrying.”Amannequin.Thatmightwork.Imotionhimforward.
Themomenthisfacecomesclosetomine,Iseetheissue.Mannequinsarenotpeoplewithwarmlipsandeyesthatflickeracrossyourfacetoseehowyou’rereacting.Iburstoutwithnervousgiggles.“Sorry.”
Samhasthelong-sufferingexpressionofamanwhosimplywantstogettowork.“Iseethemannequinideawasabust.Gladyoufindthisfunny.Wehaveanhour.”
“Right.”Itrytowipethesmileoffmyfacebutwhenhegetscloseagain,Ihavetosquishmylipstogethertotrytophysicallystopthecackling.
Thistime,Samdoesn’tgivemetimetorecover.Hetakesmyfaceinhishandsandcoversmymouthwithhis.
Thereisnoactionhecouldhavetakentomakemestoplaughingfaster.Onehandtracesdowntomyneck,andthenaroundthebackofmyheadinthatmovethatlookssosexywhenIseeitonthescreenbutinreallifealwaysfeltlikebeingtrapped.NotwithSam.WithSam,itfeelsasgoodasIalwaysthoughtitwould,possessivebutgentle.He’sclaimingme.
Howcanyounotrespondwhenamankissesyoulikethat?IstopthinkingthatthisisacharacternamedJimmyfakekissingacharacternamedLinforafakesceneforthemarketingteambecauseSamiskissingme.Instead,Istepincloser,myhandsrunninguphisarms.Hismusclestenseundermytouch.
Howlongdoesitlast?Idon’tevenknowbecauseI’veneverbeensolost.Finally,hepullsbackbutthenleanshisforeheadagainstmineforabriefmoment,eyesclosedasifhe’sthinkingofthekissthatonlyjustpassed.
I’mwrecked.Mykneesareweak.Ihaveneverbeenkissedlikethatbefore,andIknowthatmyeyesarehugeandtheyarebroadcastingallthefeelingsIhavebutwishIdidn’t.
“Ah,isthat…Doesthatwork?”Evenmyvoiceishoarse.
Samgiveshisheadalittleshake.“Ithinkso.Iforgottorecordit.”
“What?”Itcomesoutasasqueak.
“Tochecktheangles.”Herubshischin.“Youneedtokeepyourheadtiltedforthecamera.It’sabitdifferentthanonthestage.”Hesoundsunaffected,becauseweareacting
HaveIeverdeflatedsoquickly?WhileIwaslostinthemoment,hewasthinkingabouthowitwouldlookon-screen.Becausethisisajobtohim,idiot.HowmanytimesdoIforgetthis?Toomany.
“Areyouready?”Samisnowstandingnearthemirror.“Comehere.”
“What?”
“Iwantyoutowatchussoyoucandecidehowyouwanttolook.”
ThistimewhenIlaugh,Icanbarelystandup.“Thisisthemostunsexythingever.”
Hepointsatthemirror.“It’ssupposedtobeunsexy.Youhavelightsonyou.Peoplearewatching.ThankGodit’snotasexscene.”
Ithinkmyeyesmightfalloutofmyhead.“Icouldn’t.”
“Luckily,passionatekissingisasfaraswegetinthisone.”Hisfrownformsacreasebetweenhisbrows.“ToomuchexercisinginvolvedifIhavetotakemyshirtoff.”
Ijoinhimatthemirroranddecidetotakethisascoollyasheis.He’snotSam,minty-mouthedintriguingman.He’smycolleagueandkissinghimhappenstobepartofthejob.HowdoesFanglidothiseveryday?
Thistimewhenhekissesme,Ikeepmyeyesopenandcrankedtowardthemirror.Mybodylanguageisstiffbuthisis…mygoodness.Sam’sentirebodyisleaningovermeandeveryinchofhimscreamsunquenchablethirst.Hewantsmeandnoonebutme.Ican’thelpit.Iclosemyeyesandletmyselffeelthekiss,knowingI’mnevergoingtohavethissensationagain.I’malmostdrowninginthisintoxicatingseaoffeelingdestinedforsomeonemixedwiththeimpressionofbeingcaughtupinatidalwaveIcan’tcontrol.
Iendthekissthistimebuthepullsmeback.Myarmiscaughtbetweenus,andIsnakeitaroundhisnecktoburymyfingersinhishair.Thistime,Ileadthekissandheletsme.
Neitherofusaresmilingwhenwebreakapart.
“Ithinkyouhaveit,”hesays.“Practicethatscriptandbereadytogoinforty-fiveminutes.”
He’sgonebeforeIcananswerandIsinkintoachair,notknowinghowtofeel.
ThenIbiteonmyfistandgrinsohardmysmiletouchesmyears.
Holyshit,IkissedSamYao.Twenty-Eight
“Ineedadrink.”
We’rebackinmysuiteandI’mcurledoverthetablemumblingintomyoutstretchedarms.Samisonthecouchbehindme.“Thatwasn’tbad.”
“Isurvived.Doyouthinkanyoneknew?”Iliftmyheadwithgreatefforttolookathim.“ThatitwasmeandnotFangli?”
Sam’seyesareclosedandhe’ssittingwithhisarmsspreadalongthebackofthecouch,hisheadtiltedtorevealhisthroat.Itrynottorememberthatseveralhoursagomylipsweretracingalinedownthatveryspot.It’sbeenaweirdday.
“Ithinktheyboughtit.Youtwoarealmosttwins.”Hecracksopenoneeye.“It’sunbelievablebutagooddealofitishowwellyoucanchannelher.Icanhardlybelieveyou’renotaprofessionalactor.”
Neverhas“acceptable”beensomethingtocelebrate.Ididit.TheregoallofMom’sinjunctionstostayundertheradarandnotbenoticed.Iblewthemoutofthewater.AndIlikedit.
“How’sFangli?”
“Thepsychiatristcameby.”Hehesitates.“Fangliagreedtothemedicationsbutthey’lltakeawhiletowork.She’sstartedtherapywithherandgavehermeditationexercises.Fanglisaysshewantstoworktomorrow.Shehasanunderstudyifshecan’t,sothatwillgivehermoretimeifsheneedsit.”
“Didyoutellherwhathappenedtoday?”
“Shesaysthankyou.”Samleansforward.“She’suptotalking,ifyouwanttoseeher?”
“Thanks.”
“DidIhearyoumentionadrink?”Samasks.
“Ormorethanone.I’mopentosuggestions.”
“We’resupposedtoeatatHonsen’stonight.”
Idon’tknowthatplace.“Isitfancy?”
“Probably.”
“WillpeoplerecognizeyouandthinkI’mFangli?”
“Probably.”
“WillIneedtodressup?”
“Probably.”
“Willpeoplebewatchingus?”
“Whyareyouaskingwhenyouknowtheanswer?”
Ican’tdealwiththat.Ineedcomfort.“HowaboutIbuyyouthatdinnerIoweyou?AtaplaceIchoose.”
“Fine.”Hisquickacquiescencetellsmehe’snotintobeingondisplaytonighteither.AreliefsinceIdon’thavetheenergytodealwithhiscautionaboutbeenseenwithmeinpublic.
“I’mgoingtotalktoFangliandthenwe’llgo.Yougetreadyandlooklikearegularperson.”
Hedoesn’tevenarguebutgetsupandleaves.Hemustbeexhaustedtonotgivemeahardtimeonprinciple.
Iscrubmyface,putonmynewRevelationlipstickandthrowonablacktankdressandsneakers.Summerhitwithavengeancetodayandthedeephumiditymakesittoohotforjeans.
ThenItapontheconnectingdoortoFangli’sroom.Meiopensitandlooksmeover.
“I’mabouttogooutwithSambutIwantedtotalktoFangli.CanI?”
HercheekshollowandIthinkshe’schewingthem.She’ssoprotectiveofFangli.Iwonderifshe’sabouttorefusewhenFangli’svoicedriftsout.“Gracie?”
Meistepsaside.
IwalkthroughthesuitetoFangli’sroom.It’salargermirror-imageofmine,andFanglisitscurleduponacouchbythewindow.She’sinsilkenloungepajamas,barefeetpokingoutfromacashmereblanketdrapedoverherbentknees.Steamfromthecupofteainherhanddriftsuptoveilherfeatures.
“Hey,”Isay.
Shedoesn’tsmilebutthetightnessaroundhermouthrelaxes.“Howwasthefilming?”
“Samwashappywithit.”
Fanglirestsherheadonherhand,exhaustionineverylineofherbody.Itaketheteafromherandplaceitonthetable,thenhesitate.Idon’tknowwhattosaybutIcan’tstandherelisteningtothesilencebuild.
“CanIhugyou?”Isay.I’mnotahuggerandalwaystriedtododgethembystandingfarenoughawaytomakeitinconvenientforsomeonetograbme.ButFanglilookswearybeyondbeliefandinneedofcomfort.
Shedoesn’tanswerforaminute,thendipsherheaddowninanod.Isitonthecouchbesideherandplaceatentativearmaroundhernarrowshoulders.WestaylikethatforaminuteuntilFanglisighs,adeepandraggedsound.
“I’mtired,”shesaysinalowvoice.“Iwanttobebetter.Whycan’tIgetbetter?”
Icommittotheembrace,pullingherupandoversoIcangetbotharmsaroundher.“Ittakestime,”Isay.
“That’swhatthetherapistsaid.Idon’thavetime.Ineedtobefixednow.Now.”Hervoicerises.
“Iknow.”Iwantedthesamething.Shecurlsagainstme,notcryingbutbreathingwithshallowpants.“Youshouldsleep,”Itellher.
“Don’twantto.”
Don’twanttogotobed,don’twanttowakeup.Don’twanttodoanything.Beenthere.“I’llwaitwithyouuntilyoudo.Comeon.”
Iurgehertoherfeetandshewalksovertothebed,wheresheletsmepullthecoversoverher.Isettledownbesideher.“Wantmetotellyouastory?”
Fangligivesawaterylaugh.“Likeakid?”
“There’sareasonbedtimestorieswork,”Isay.“Youwanttohearitornot?It’sonemymomtoldme.”
Shesniffles.“Yes.”
“It’scalledtheballoonhotel.Youknowwhenakidletsaballoongoandfreaksout?Thisiswheretheballoonsallgowhentheyescapeintothesky.”
Idrawthestoryout,speakingslowandsoftuntilFangli’seyesfluttershut.Soonshe’sasleep.Istopthestoryandwaitforamoment,feelingmycourageebbawayatthethoughtoftellingFangliI’mdone.Ican’tleaveherlikethis.HowcanIturnmybackonherbecauseIfeelbadthatsomepeoplethinkI’mher?Fangliisfleshandblood.Theothersareabstract.They’repeoplebutFangliisaperson
EvenLaurence.ItmadehimhappytomeetwhohethoughtwasFangli,andcan’tthatbeenough?
Ihavetostay.
Istandupfromthebed.I’mnotperfectlyhappywithmychoicebutit’sonlyforanotherfewweeks.I’lllearnfromthis.Ihavelearnedfromit.
Meiisn’ttherewhenIleave.Iheadbacktomyroomandtakeafewminutestocomposemyself.WhenI’vesplashedsomewateronmyface,ItextSamandtuckthepowertriointomybag—card,key,andlipstick.Samarrivesinblackpantsthathitathisanklesandalightgrayshirt.I’dhavehugesweatstainsunderthearmsofashirtthatcolorwithinseconds.
Helooksintomyface.“Gracie?”
“Fangliwasfine.”
“I’mmoreconcernedaboutyou.”Hecomesintomyroomandshutsthedoor.“Wasthatdifficultforyou?”
“I’mfine,”Iassurehim.
“Fanglilikesyou,”hesays.“Shehasn’thadafriendinalongtimeapartfromme.”
“Poorwoman.”
“Yeah,you’reokay.”Hesmiles.“Youstillwanttogoout?”
“Youbet.”Morethanbefore.IwanttobesurroundedbynoiseandpeopleandeatgreasythingssoIdon’thavetothinkforacouplehours.
“Wherearewegoing?”Hefallsintostepbesidemeasweleave.
“Surprise.Meetmeoutsidethelobby.”It’ssafertogodownseparatelysinceI’mdressedasmyself.
AlthoughIexpecthimtopressmefordetails,Samseemshappyenoughtofollowmeoutsideandontothesubway.
“Icantellyouourstopifyouwanttositalone,”Isaybeforethetrainarrives.
Herubsthebackofhisneck.“WhywouldIdothat?”
“Sowe’renotseentogether?”Obviously?
Samglancesdowntheplatform.We’retheonlypeoplewaiting.“Seenbywhom,exactly?”
Inudgehimwithmyshoulder.“Funny.Imeanonthetrain.”
“I’msureacarwillbeempty.”
“Uptoyou.”Aninterestingchangefromthemanwhoisparanoidabouteverything.Hehasn’tevenmentionedthesecuritycameras,althoughthechanceofbeingrecognizedfromgrainyblack-and-whitefootageisprobablyslim.It’snicethathe’slooseningupaboutit.
He’squietaswewaitforthetraintoarrive.Ashepredicts,wefindseatsthatarerelativelyisolated.
“Iliketrains,”hesaysaswesitdownonthestainedredvelourseats.
“Ithoughtyoutookcarseverywhere.”
“Mostly,”heagrees.“WhenIthinkit’ssafe,Iliketousepublictransit.Morepeopletowatch.”
“Safe?”
“IfIthinknoonewillrecognizeme.”
“Peoplewatchingisthatimportanttoyou?”
Heglancesdownthesubwaycars.We’reononeoftheinterconnectedtrainssowecanseeallthewaydowntotheend.“Ican’tgetideasforhowtoplaycharactersfrombeingaloneinsidemyhouse.Lookthere.”
Iknowexactlywhohe’sreferringtobecauseafewrowsawayisamaninafulltuxedoandadottedbowtiecarvedofwoodwithpolishedcombatbootswho’sreadingaGeorgetteHeyerRegencyromance.Thequestionsaskthemselves.Whoishe?Whereishegoing?Isthishisusuallookoraspecialoccasionlook?Whythatbook?
Wehavethemannerstonottalkaboutthemanrightinfrontofhim,butthemomentwegetout,wecompeteforwhogetstotelltheman’sbackstoryfirst.IwinandregaleSamwithmynarrative—thathe’samodernMissHavishampiningforhislostcatandthebowtieusedtobeLadyFluff’s—fortheblockittakesustogettothebar.It’soneofmylocalplacesandI’monehundredpercentconfidentthatnotasinglepersontherewillrecognizeorcarewhoSamis.
Wetakeaboothinthecorner.Samsitsfacingthewall,whichisdecoratedwithframedblack-and-whitephotos.“Mugshots?”
“It’scalledtheMugshotTavern.”
“Ofcourseitis.IseeJamesBrownandRobertDowneyJr.”
Ipointdowntheline.“ParisHilton.BonnieandClyde.LindsayLohan.MacaulayCulkin.”
Samnods.“WhatI’mhearingisthatifIgetarrested,Icanlookforwardtobeingonthiswallofinfamy.”
“Areyouplanningonanewcareerincrime?”
Hesucksinhischeeksasthoughconsideringit.“Neversaynever.”Thenhesmirksatme.
Theserverslapsdownacoupleofmenusandweorderwine.I’mnotFanglitonight,soIhavenoqualmsaboutdrinking.Ilookatthemenu.“Iwantfries.”
“Aslongasthey’renotsweetpotato.”
“Thoseareatravesty.”
BecauseSamhasaphotoshootthenextday,hedoesn’twanttoorderanythingwithalotofsodium,whichwillmakehisfacepuffup.Thatlimitshischoicestoagreensalad,andhefinallysighsandordersaburger.“I’lldrinkaglassofmilkbeforebed.”
Wesitinacompanionablesilencewithourwine.Thebarisabouthalf-fullandIcasuallyeavesdropontheconversationsaroundme.Everydaypersonthings:gossip,workcomplaints,andabumpyfirstdate.
“Weren’tyougoingtotellmesomething?”Samasks.“BeforeMeicalled?”
“Can’tremember,”Ilie.NopointgoingintomyconcernsnowthatI’vedecidedtostickwiththecontract.
“Youdidwelltoday.”Samfinisheshisglass,seesI’malmostdone,andorderstwomore.
“Youwerepatient.”
Nowthatit’sover,Icanbarelyrecalltheday.Likemostcrisissituations,itcomestomeinflashesofperfectrecallamongabackgroundofvaguelyacknowledgedimpressions.
“Wasthekissingasbadasyouthoughtitwouldbe?”Heglancesatmeoverhiswineglassandhistoneismorecuriousthanmocking.
Ichoke.“Itwasfine.”
“Gracie.”
Irubmynose.“Itwasstrange,that’sit.”
“Doyouwantsomeadvice?”Samlooksatmeintentlyunderthelowbrimofhishat.
“Onmykissingtechnique?”Iaskwithutterdismay.“No.Ofcoursenot.Jesus.Whatisit?”
“Yourkissingwasfine,”heassuresme.“It’syourface.”
“Myface,”Iecho.TheproblemSamhaswithkissingmeismyface,excellentnews.I’mgoingtomeltfromshamebutthisislikewatchingahorrormovie.Ineedtoknow.“Weren’tyoureyesclosed?”
“Beforeyoukissedme,youlookedaway.”
“Ididn’t.”SurelyIwouldhaveknownthat,plushowcouldIhavelookedawayfromSamabouttoplantoneonme?
“Youdiditwhenwewerepracticing,too.WhenI’mabouthere,”andheholdshishandaboutfifteencentimetersfromhisface,“youreyesgototheleftasifyouwerelookingforanescape.”
Iclutchmywineandhunchintotheredleatherbackofthebooth.“It’sprobablybecauseofthecontext.IthinkwitharealkissIwouldn’t.”
“That’swhyItoldyoutolookatme.”
“IthoughtitwaspartofthescenethatIforgot.”
“Ad-lib.”
“WhatdoesyourgirlfriendthinkaboutyoukissingFangli?”I’vebeentryingtofindawaytoconfirmwhatMeisaid,andtheinternetwasnohelp.ThisisassmoothasIcanmakeit.
“What?”Hedropshisburgerandswearswhenitfallsapart.Notsosmooth,then.“Mywhat?”
“Meisaidyouhadagirlfriend,orhintedatit.”
“Idon’t.ButifIdid,we’dtalkaboutit.Iwouldn’tdoanythingtomakeheruncomfortable.”Hemasheshisburgerbacktogether.“Whydoyouask?”
“Ithinkitwouldbehardifthathappened,”Isaythoughtfully,tryingtopretendthatmygoalwasadeepdiveintorelationshipmaintenanceinsteadofnosiness.
“Itcanbe.Alljobshavetheirpitfalls.”
“Notlikethat,though.”
“I’veheardactuariescangetfairlywild.”Hestartseatingagain.
Isharemyfriesandheshareshisonionringsandwedon’tsaymuchmoreuntilwe’redoneeatingandhaveathirdglassofwineinfrontofus.It’sacozysilence.Sampoursaglassofwaterandpushesitacrossthetabletome.IdrinkitdownbecauseIwanttoworkonEppyandseeMomtomorrowaswellasdomyFanglipractice,andalthoughIdeserveadamnbreakaftertoday,Idon’twanttodoanyofthatwithahangover.
“Whathappenedatyourlastjob?”Samasks,breakingintomyrelaxationwithhisunerringabilitytohomeinonuncomfortablesubjects.
IalreadyhaveananswerreadyforjobinterviewssoItrotitout.“Itwasn’tagoodculturefitforme.Iwantedaplaceopentotestingoutnewideas.”
“Ifyou’regoingtogivethatanswer,don’tscrunchupyourbody,”Samsays.“They’llsenseyou’relying.”
Ilookdownandseebothmyarmsandlegsarecrossed.“Iwasn’tlying.”
“Howmanytimesdoweneedtohavethisfight?Forawomanwho’scurrentlypretendingtobesomeoneelse,you’reaverybadliar.”
“Idon’tlikeliesbecauseIalwaysforgetwhatI’vesaid.”
“Yethereweare.Whatreallyhappened?”
“Ihatedmymanager,theoneyousawattheartgallery.”Itcomesoutinaburst.“Hewasaweaselandthenhefiredmewhenhesawthatphotoofmeinthecoffeeshop.”
Shit,I’vesaidtoomuch.IforgotIwashidingthat.Stupidwine.
Samputshisglassdown.“Hesawwhat?”
Timetocomeclean.“Icalledinsickthedaythatwastakenandtoldhimitwasn’tmebutheknewitwasbecauseitlookslikeme.Myhair,mybag.”
“Didhethreatenyou?”
“NotinawaythatwouldaffectFangli.”
“You’relyingagain.”
Iuncrossmyarms.“Ihavealawyer,okay?Itwashandled.”
“There’smoreyou’renottellingme.”
“Canwenottalkaboutit?IassureyouIhaveitundercontrol.”ThistimeIkeepmybodyopenandlookhimintheeye.
Afteralongbeat,hesighs.“Ican’tforceyouintotalking,butbetweenyouandFangli,I’mdrowninginsecrets.”
Ihavenoanswertothisbecauseit’strue.Wedrinkquietly,payup—mytreatsinceIowehimdinner,eventhoughheprotests—andleavetogobacktothehotelwithoutsayingmuchelse.
FuckingToddspoilsthepartyagain.
***
Fangliisabletogettoworkthenextday.Shepopsherheadthroughmydoortogivemeahugbeforesheleaves,andthoughshe’spale,hershouldersandgazearestraight.“Thankyou,”shesays.
“Itgotbetterforme,”Iblurtout.“OnceIgothelp.Itwashardthough.Ifeltweak,likeIcouldn’thandlemyownproblems.TalkingtosomeoneabouthowIfelt…yeah.Hard.”Ofcourseitwas.IcanbarelybringmyselftotalktopeopleIlikeaboutmyissues,letaloneastranger.
Hergazeflickersdown.“Hard.Alsoeasier?”
“Becauseyoudon’tfeellikeyou’reburdeningsomeonewithyourproblems.”
“Yes.”
“It’snotgoingtohappenallatonce,”Isay.“Slowbutsteady.”
“Theturtle,notthehare.”Shepullsherhairaroundhershoulderandlooksattheceiling.“That’swhatthetherapistsaidtomeyesterday.”
Iraisemyfisthigh.“Toturtles.Longmayweprosper.”
Thishashersmiling—onlyasmalllifttohermouthbutI’lltakeit—assheleaves,Meimutteringintoherphonebesideher.I’minabettermoodaftertalkingtoher.IlikeFangli.Samsaidsheconsideredmeafriend.Iwantthat,althoughIalsoknowshe’llbebackinChinasoonandIhavetroubleenoughmaintainingfriendshipswithpeopleinmyowncity.Iconsiderthis.It’salsopossiblethatourshortbutintenserelationship,muchlikepeoplegetoncruises,isfoolingmeintoseeingmorethanthereis.Ihopenot.I’dliketokeepherinmylife.
IpushalltheseworriesawayandpulloutEppy.TodayisthedaythatI’vedecidedtotestitout,andIhappilylogallthethingsonmymindintotheneatcolumns.IttakesabouttwentyminutesformytotalbraindownloadandthenanothertentocheckmycalendartomakesureI’veloggedinallmyeventsandappointments.Ineedacalendarsync
ThenImanufactureacoffeefromthepodsandsimplysmileatmylaptop.It’sthere.Myideaisthere,infrontofme.Itmightbedumbtobeproudofcreatingato-dolist,butIam.Thisisn’tlikeanythingelseoutthere.
Timetostart.FirstthingistopulltogetherwhatsetsmyappapartbecauseI’mgoingtoneedmoneytohireacoderandlaunchit.I’mbuildingtheplaneasI’mflyingbutIfeelgood.
Bylunch,I’vefoundafewproblems,andafterImakenotes,it’stimeforawalktogetthebloodflowing.Noonecanbecreativestuckatatableforhours.It’sabrightandsunnydayandmystepsarelightasIwanderaroundwithoutadestination.ItextAnjali,whowantstoknowifSamcontinuestobehotandIcontinuetobealive.
Yes.Wekissed,Ireply.
Anjali:SorryWUTandwhydoyoualwaystellmethisshitwhenI’minameetingOMFGwasitawesomehowwhywhen.
Me:Forapromo.Fanglicouldn’tmakeitsoIhadtoplayher.
Anjali:Irepeatwasitawesome
IstareatthephoneforaminutebeforeIwriteback,Yeah.
Shesendsbackseveneggplantemojis.
IwishAnjaliwasinthecitytotalktobutshe’soffonaworktrip.Stopthat.
Moreeggplants.IneeddetailswhenI’mback.
Isendathumbs-upemojibecausemyfeelingsaboutSamaretoocomplicatedformetodeconstruct,letalonesummarizeontext.HowdoItrytoexplainkissingSamoverandover?Thefilmcrewtookmultipletakesandeachtimehemovedusabitdifferently,touchedmeanewwaysothatIforgotabouteverythingintheworldbuthim.
Isupposemyfeelingsaren’tcomplicatedatall.Iknowwhattheissueis.I’mfallinginlovewithSam.Inthemostclichédofclichés,I’vegotathingforamoviestarwhoisgoingtobye-byeoutofmylifeinweeks.
TheleastIcandoiskeepittomyself,sohedoesn’tknow.That’sariskthatI’mnotwillingtotake,notevenatmybravest.Theshameofrejectionwouldbetoomuch.SamsaidhewassurprisedthatIcouldactatall.Well,let’skeepthatgoing.Twenty-Nine
Thenexttwoweekspassinafairlypredictableroutine.SamandFangliwork.Ihalf-assedlyjobsearchandwhole-assedlyrefineEppy.Everyfewdays,IvisitMom.Atnight,SamandIgoouttosmileandbeseen,andIamcarefultokeepconversationlightandmyhandstomyself.
Thusendsthefirstmonthofmepretendingtobeamoviestar.ThisiswhatI’velearned.
EppyissuperamazingandI’mgoingtobeamillionaireandmaybeinVanityFairtotalkabouthowitchangedmylifeinaveryinspirationalbuthumbleprofilestory.Ihaveputthisouttotheuniversemultipletimes.
BeingamoviestarhasbecomeeasiernowthatIhavethehangofit.
FangliiscoolandIlikeherverymuch
MeiisprofessionalandItakeitatthat.Sheconsidersmestaff.
Momdoesn’tdomuchbutlookoutthewindoweverytimeIvisit,andIcallXinGuangeverytwodaysinapoliteandcheerfulnot-pushywaytosay“Iremainveryinterested.”
Sam…iskillingme.Killingmesimplybyexisting.Evenwhenhe’snotnearme,IthinkabouthimandIdon’tlikeit.AgathaWuReedalwayswarnedmeagainstlettingamantakeuptoomuchspaceinmythoughts,andSamconsumesaninordinateamountofmywakingtime,partlybecausehe’saroundsooften.Mysuitehasbecomeabitofagatheringplaceforthethreeofuslateatnight—Fangli,Sam,andme—wherewewatchmovies,goonlinetocheckouttheworld’sweirdesthousesorgrossestrecipes,doquizzestoseewhatDisneyprincessweare,orplaycards.That’sthemostfunbecausealthoughSammighthavecrushedmeatvideogames,he’satrociousatcardsandFangliandItakegreatpleasureinhisinabilitytohidehowmuchitbothershimtolose.
“War?”IaskonenightindisbeliefasFanglichecksoverthedecktoseehowhemessedupyetagain.“YouevenloseatWar?”
“Ihadbadcards,”hesulks.
“Fivetimesinarow?”
It’sthissideofSamthathasmestuck.He’sunguardedandthatmakeshimmorerealandunbearablyattractive.Hedoesn’tchangefromwhenhespeakstomeorFangliandmetogether.Iknowit’sgenuinebutit’sasfriends.SometimesthetwoofthemlapseintoMandarinbutmyapphasonlygottenmetoeatinginarestaurant(Woyaochaofan,Icannoworderfriedrice)sothere’salotImiss.Occasionallyheshootsmealookfromthecornerofhiseyepairedwithaslysmile,andmyheartstops.Hedoesn’tmeananythingbyit.He’snotaprofessionalflirtbuthe’sawareofhisvisualpowerandIthinkit’sbecomesecondnature.
Messesmeupeverytime,though.Everytime.WhatalsoruinsmeisthathewantsupdatesaboutEppy.Thathetakesitsoseriouslythrillsme.
“Tellmethechangesyoumadeonit,”hesaysasweattendanothersoiree.Toronto’sbigfilmfestivaliscominginSeptember,andsinceFangli’smanagementwantshertobeseenandSamhasamoviepremieringatit,we’reonabitofacircuit.
IholdmygraduallywarmingglassofwhitewinethatI’mforbiddentodrinkaswestandatatableinthecornertakingaquickbreakfromschmoozing.“It’sgoingwell,”Isay.
“WhendoIgettotryit?”
“Later.”WhyamIdreamingaboutVanityFairandmorningshowsbutIimmediatelysaynotoSamtryingitout?Thewholepointistohavepeopleuseit.
“You’regoingtoneedtesters,andyoualreadypromisedmeIcouldbetatest,”hesaysreasonably.“IthastoscaleandIgaveyouabunchofideas.”
“Whydoyouwanttotryit?”
Hegrins.“Youmakeitsoundexciting,likeit’sgoingtoturnmylifearound.Icouldusethat.”
“You.SamYao,moviestar.”
Hissmiledoesn’tdrop.“Whoonlyhaslimitedtimeinadayandonthisworldtogetthingsdone.”
“YoucantryitonceIwriteuphow-toinstructions,”Isay.He’sright,Idoneedtotestit.
Bythetimeournextbigengagementcomesaround,I’mmoreconfident,whichisgoodbecauseit’sforChanelandisanall-eyes-on-mesituation.Fangliwasgoingtodoitbutbeggedofflastminute.She’scomedownwithacoldandtrulydoeslooklikehell.
“Claudiecan’tmakeit,soitwillbeeasy,”shecoachesme.“She’stheonlyonewhohasmetmeinperson.You’llgowithSamandwatchamini-fashionshowandthat’sit.”
IstandinarobeinsidetheclosetasFanglihoversbesideme.ObviouslyIhavetowearChanel,butIdon’tknowwhichoftheoutfitsIhaveareChanel.Ithinkthey’reknownforlittleboxysuitthingswithroughknobblyfabric.Pearls?Ihavedistinctmemoryofseeingmodelswearinglotsofpearls.
Fanglireachesaroundmetopluckoutalittlepairofshortswithamatchingtubetopandasleevelessblazer.Iwrinklemynose.“Ionlyshavedmylegstotheknees.”
Shesighsbutexchangestheshortsforalong,flowyskirt.“Thiswilldo.”
“WhatdoIneedtotalkabout?”
“HowmuchyouenjoyworkingwithClaudieisgood,butaskthemquestions.Peoplelovetotalkaboutthemselves.ThisisaspecialVIPpop-up,soitwillbeamixofpeople,notonlyfashion.Theyusuallyasktheirlocalpremium-clientlist.”
Ipullonthewigandswipeonafinaltouchoflipstickbeforekissingatissuetoblotit.Fangliblowshernoseandpopsalozengeinhermouth.Shereeksofeucalyptusandlemon.“Yousawyourmothertoday,didn’tyou?”sheasks.
“Thismorning.She’sthesame.”IsighandFangli’shandsqueezesmyshoulder.
“YounevertoldmehowshecametoCanada,”shesays.
“Shenevertalksaboutthepast,”Isay.“Allshewouldeversayisthatshewantedafreshstart.”
“Aren’tyoucurious?”
“Youhavenoidea.IusedtoaskmydadbutheonlysaiditwasherstorytotellandnowImightneverhearit.IhavefamilythereI’llneverknow.”
“Doesitbotheryou?”
“Intheabstract,sometimes,butwhatwouldwehaveincommon?They’dberelatedbutstrangers.”
“That’ssad.Perhapsshefeltsaferkeepingsilent.”
Istop,pressedpowdercompactinmyhand.Safe?IneverevenconsideredtheideathatMomwouldberunningfromsomethingorsomeone.IalwaysassumedthatsheonlywantedanewstartinCanadaforajobormoney.ShehadawholelifeinChina,overtwentyyears,andIknownothingaboutit.Ididn’tknowitwaspossibleformetofeelmoreregretovernotaskingMommoreaboutherlife,butIguess,likeallchildren,Ithoughtthatherlifeonlybeganaftermyarrival.
Fanglisnifflesintoatissue.“Iimagineifshewasmarriedtoamanlikemyfather,she’dwanttomakesurehecouldn’tfindheragain.”
“Amanlikeyourfather?”
FangliseesfrommyfacethatI’mimaginingtheworst,andsheholdsupherhandsasiftostopme.“No,no.He’sagoodmanandtriesbuthe’sinlovewithhisworkandwithrules.”
ThatactuallyseemslikeamanMomwouldappreciate,althoughBradReedwasmoreofafreespirit.
Fanglicontinues.“It’shavingacleanbreakandallthat.IoftenwishIcouldtakeasimilaraction.”
“Youcan’t?”
“Ilovehimandalthoughwehavedifferentphilosophies,he’smyfather.”Sheshrugs.“He’sdifficult,buthowcanIcuthimoutofmylifewhenhe’smyonlyfamily?”
There’snoanswertothat.FanglihandsmeanadorablepurseandapproveswhenIslingitoverasingleshoulderratherthanasacross-body.
ThenSamandIareinthecarheadedtotheeventspace.It’sonthetopfloorofanofficebuildingintheEastEndbutIgaspoutloudwhenIseetheview.Theentirecitylaysitselfoutinfrontofus,thelaketothesouth,theskyscraperstothewest,andresidencesandtreestothenorthandeast.
“Ms.Wei,whatapleasure.”Atallwomanapproachesus.“Mr.Yao.”
She’ssmilingandIhavenoideawhosheis,soImurmurasuitablegreetingandfollowherintothemainroom.Alongwalkwaysplitsthespaceintwo,andtherearerowsofchairsliningthesides.Black-cladserverswalkaroundwithfoodandwine,andIdeclinebothwhentheycomeinmydirection.Ican’teatandbeFangliandsavemylipstickallatonce.
Thewomanpointsoutourseatsandleaves.Anasalvoicecomesfrombehindme.“I’monlyherebecauseofAngelica,”awomansays.“TheChinesehaveabsolutelywreckedChanelwiththeirfakeseverywhere.Reallyit’squiteterrible,butyouknowAngelica.Onceshefindsastyle,sheneverchanges.”
Aboomingvoicecutsheroff.
“ToomanyChinese,that’stheproblem.Drivingallthepricesup.Realestate’stheworst.Neverknowwhatthey’rethinking.There’stoomanyofthem,alllookthesame.We’regoingtobeoverwhelmed.It’sanumbersgame.”
Sam’sfacehasstilledintoneutralbuthetouchesmyarmwhenIgototurnaround.
“Forgetit,”hesayssoftly.
“Likehell.”Iglancebehindtoseewhotheassholeisandhavenotroublelocatinghim.He’solder,inhisfifties,wearingabaggyblacksuit.ItakealonglooksoIcanrecognizehimlater,watchingasheshoveshisemptyglassatapassingserverandjabshisfingerinherfaceuntilshegiveshimafreshdrinkfromhertray.
SamandIminglebuttheman’scommentshavesouredmymood.Sammustnoticebecauseheleadsmeontothebalconythatprovidesaviewoutovertheblacklake.Thankstoanunseasonablycoldnight,we’retheonlypeopleouthere.
“Youneedtoletitgo,”hesays.“You’renotgoingtoaccidentallyspilladrinkonhimorbeathiminrationaldebate,soquitthinkingaboutit.”
“HowdidyouknowIwasgoingtospillonhim?”
Hegivesmealookoutofthecornerofhiseyes.Againstthenight,hisfaceisstarklyoutlined.“Therearemanylikehimhere.”
“Atleastyoucangobackhomeandnothavetodealwithpeoplelikehim.I’mstuck.”
“Therearealwayspeoplelikehim,everywhere.”Samleanshisforearmsonthebalconyrail.Tonighthe’sinslacksandwiththesleevesofthedressshirtrolledup,heexudescoollyconfidentstyle.I’vealreadyseentwomenglanceoverandfixtheirownsleeves.“He’sscaredandhefeelsinferiorandhedoesn’tlikeit.”
“Ormaybehe’snotscaredbutjustaclass-Adickwhoneedstobesnappedintoplace.Ibethelordshismoneyovereveryonearoundhim.”Ilookbackintotheroom.“OhmyGod.”
“What?”Hestandsinfrontofmeasiftoblockwhateveritis.Ipullhimoutofthewaygently.
“That’sRobinBanerjee.”
Samwaveshishand.“Somecontext,please?”
“Aventurecapitalistbasedinthecitywhoonlyfundslocalbusinessandhasafocusonlifehackingventures.”I’vedonemyresearch.
Understandingdawns.“LikeEppy.”
“LikeEppy.”
“Now’sthetimetogethim,”Samurges.“Pitchhim.”
“Ican’t.”Iwanttostompmyfeetinrage.“I’mFangli,notGracie.”
“Right.”Hegivesabrisknod.“I’llgotalktohim.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“I’llgoover,introducemyself,andtellhimIhaveafriendwithagreatideaandwillhemeetwithher.”
“Justlikethat?”
“Well,hemightsayno.”
“You’ddothatforme?”
Samlooksdownatme.“Ofcourse.Whywouldn’tI?”
“Ifeelweird.”
“It’scallednetworking.”
“I’vealwaysmanagedbymyself.”
Hedoesn’tsayanythingbutIcanhearhisvoiceasloudlyasifhehad.How’sthatworkingforyou?
Howisitworkingforme?IlookbackatRobinBanerjee.NetworkingwasalwaysforpeoplewhohadconnectionsandIneverdid.Sam’scasualoffer,thathecouldsimplywalkoverandaskthisstrangerafavor—andhaveagoodexpectationofreceivingitbydintofwhoheis—speakstoalevelofconfidenceIenvy.
Idon’twantSamtodothisforme.Iwanttobeabletodoitformyself.
“IthinkI’drather…”Thewordsdieinmymouth.BecauseToddisstruttingthroughthecrowd.Thirty
He’shere.
Toddtheassholeboss.Toddwhosomehowcontinuestomakemylifehell.Idon’tunderstandwhyhe’shereuntilIseehisblondfriendfromtheartgallerysmilingandair-kissingthehelloutoftheroom.
“You’dratherwhat?”Samseesmeshiver.“You’recold.Thewind’spickingup.Shallwegoin?”
“Ilikeitouthere.”Ican’tstayonthebalconyallnightbutIneedafewminutestocollectmyself.DealingwithToddwillrequireaplan.AsolidplanthatIcurrentlydonothave.
Samrunshishanddownthegoosebumpsonmyarmbutsays,“Whateveryouwant.”
Thebalconyisseparatedfromthemaineventspacebyawallofwindows,butit’sdarkeroutsidethanin,soIknowI’mnotvisibletothecrowd.Ikeepmybreathcontrolledandeven,forcingmybodytocalmitselfeventhoughmypalmsaresodampthatSammakesafacewhenhetouchesmyhand.“AboutRobin,”hesaysbeforehesquintsthroughthewindows.“Oh,canyougivemeamoment?That’smyoldfriendDmitri.Ihaven’tseenhiminyears.”Hegesturestoamaninsidewearingabowtie.
InodtoSamtoshowhecangooffandtalkwithhisfriend—andregretitinstantly.
BecauseToddcomesouttothebalconysecondsafterSamexitstocheckthespaceforsomeoneworthytotalkto.I’venoplacetohide.
Herecognizesmeinstantlyandstridesover.“Gracie,allaloneouthere.You’relookinggood.”HowdidInevernoticehelookedlikeawolfwithhisshaggyhairandthewidemouthfilledwithbigteeth?He’sawolfandI’malamb.“Thatlonghair.Iapprove.”
HeknowsthatunderthisperfectmakeupandstyledhairandexpensiveChanelgetup,I’monlyGracie.
“Youshouldhavedressedlikethisforwork,”hesays.
Heshiftscloser,tooquickformetobackup.SoIdon’t.Istandmygroundeventhoughitmeanshe’snear.Idon’tgranthimthepowertomakememove,andthatsmall,unintendedgestureremindsthatI’mnotalambatall.Iwon’tbethesamevulnerableGraciewholefthisofficeamonthago.ThatdistancehasgivenmeenoughspacethatIcankeepmyheadeventhoughmyteethareabouttostartchattering.
IchannelFangli,withnosmileandastonishmenthewouldbesorudeastoapproachme.“Excuseme.Whoareyou?”
Hisfingersslipdowntoencirclemywristtightlyenoughtopressthebraceletsintomyskin.“Comeoffit,Gracie.Idon’tknowwhatgameyou’replayingbutIalwaysknewtherewasabadgirlunderthosethicksweatersandsubmissivelook.”
He’ssofuckinggross.Whydidn’tIseethisbefore?HowdidIletthispieceofshitbeatmedownsobadly?Ifeeltheweightofthewigonmyhead,thedelicatestrapsoftheleatherheelscuttingintomyankles.HemighttreatmelikeGracie,butI’mFanglihere.
“I’mtalkingtoyou,Gracie.”ToddgivesmealittletugwhenIdon’tanswer,andIshiftmygazedowntowherehishandencirclesmywrist.Fangliwouldn’tputupwiththistreatment.NeitherwouldAnjali,althoughshe’dprobablyoptforbreakingTodd’snose.
Iwon’tputupwithiteither.
Iflickhishandoff.“Idon’tcare,”Isay.Itcomesoutinascalpel-sharpvoiceIrecognizefromoneofFangli’sdramaticroles.
“Whatdidyousay?”HeleansintooclosebutIdon’tmove.InsteadIkeepsilentandstarehimdown.
AndIseewhatImissedforsolong.
Standinginfrontofmeonthedimbalcony,Toddisnothingbutanemptyman-shapedshadowsurroundedbythelightsshiningfromthousandsofwindowsinthecityskyline.Withthefilteroffearstrippedaway,Irecognizehimforwhatheis:amediocreandblusteringbullywhoIdespise.Itakeadeepbreathandletallmyfeargo,becausehe’snotworthit.
Idon’tneedtoanswerhim.
IturntoleaveToddstewinginhisimpotentrageontheprettybalconybutalthoughI’mdonewithhim,Todddoesn’tthinkhe’sdonewithme.IfeelaheavyhandlandonmyshoulderjustasIspotSamsteppingthroughthedoorway,afrowngrowingbetweenhisbrows.
Twistingbacksharplyenoughtoknockhishandaside,IgiveToddmymostunimpressedlook.Sam’sbesidemenowandhispresencebolstersmyconfidence.Icanalmostfeelthestrainhe’sundertokeepcoolbuthewaitsformetohandlethesituation.
Toddglaresatme.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retryingtopullhere,butitdoesn’tmatterhowyoudressyourselfup—you’rethesameboringgirlyoualwayswere.YoushouldbegratefulIevenbotheredtolookatyou.”
“No.”Iglareback.“No,that’snotsomethingtobegratefulforatall.”
God,thatfeelsgood.Overhisshoulder,Iseethewomanwhowelcomeduswatchingwithadarklookonherface.She’sspeakingintoherwalkie-talkie.Asecurityguardmaterializesbesidehersecondslaterandtheybothwalkovertous,expressionshardandeyestrainedonTodd.
Toddseesherandglancesoveratmewithalookofalmosthilariouslymisplacedtriumph.“Getheroutofhere,”hesays,pointingatmeastheyapproach.“Shedoesn’tbelonghere.”
Thesecurityguarddoesn’tevenhesitate.“Let’sgo,sir.”
ItakeinthatbeautifulmomentasToddsmirksatme,rightbeforeheunderstandswhat’sgoingon.Thenhelooksbetweenmeandtheguard.“What?”
“Timetogo,sir.”Theguardlooksatme.“Ma’am,doyouwantustocallthepolicesoyoucanpressanassaultcharge?”
It’slikeToddreallydoesn’tgetituntilhelooksattheeventwoman,herlipcurledindisgust.Heturnsbacktolookatmeand…crumples.It’slikewatchingabagdeflateinslowmotion.
Ipretendtoconsiderwhattheguardsaid,althoughIknowthatIcan’t.Fangli’simageneedstobeconsidered.“Banninghimfromalleventswilldo.”
Todd’sfacegoesredasIrefusetomoveorlookaway.
I’vewon.
Iturnawayfirst,givinghimmyback.He’snotworthmytime.
“He’sgone,”Samsaysafteramoment.InodbutI’mlisteningtothepeoplearoundmeasthecrowdspillsouttothebalcony.Themomentwithsecurityhasnotgoneunnoticed.
“Whatwasthatabout?”
“Thenerveofthatguy.”
“That’sWeiFangli.Iheardshe’sarealbitch.”
“Forwhat,notwantingtobepawedbythatpig?”
“Didyouseethat?”
Sam’stouchonmyarmremindsmetostraightenmybackandkeepmyexpressionneutral.Todd’sgonebutmytriumphisdampenedbytheknowledgethatthismightreboundonFangli.
Samquellsthemurmuringwithafrownthatmakesmetense,andit’snotevendirectedatme.Hetakesmetotheside,outofsightofothersonthebalcony,andwrapshisarmaroundme.“Whathappened?Doweneedtogo?”
“I’mfine.”
“No,you’renot.You’reshaking.Thatwasyouroldboss,wasn’tit?”
“Yes.”
Sam’sexpressionhardens.“Tellmethewholestory.Allofit.”
Thesordidtalespillsout.“Idon’tknowwhyIcouldn’tstanduptohim,butIcouldn’t.Icouldn’t.Icouldn’tlosemyjobandIdidn’twanttoacceptitwashappening.”
Samtucksmyheadunderhischin.“Gracie.It’sallonhim.Notyou.”Hepauses.“CanItellyouastory?”
“Yes.”Iwanttogetmymindoffthismess.
“Itoldyouaboutmymotherandhowshewantsmetotakeovertheproductionbusiness.”
“Youdid.”
“Shealsotriedtogetmemyfirstjob.Isaidno,Iwasgoingtochangemynameanddoitmyself.”Heleansusagainsttherailing,thewindliftingupourhair.“ShewarnedmeagainstacertainactingcoachandIwassure,becauseIwasateenager,thatshewaslyingtomesoI’dfailandhavetocomebacktoher.”
“Whathappened?”
“Iwenttomeetthecoach.Shewasfamousandeveryoneknewifsheagreedtotakeyouon,youwerespecial.Itwasherandme.”Hesighs.“Thenshetoldmetositdownandsheputahandonmythigh.Highonmythigh.”
“Howoldwereyou?”
“Eighteen.”
“Whatdidyoudo?”
Helaughsandit’sthesametonethatIhavewhenIthinkofTodd.“Nothingatfirst.Maybeitwasinmyhead.Ididn’twanttomakeafuss.Ididn’twanthertothinkIwasalittlekid.”
“Didshestop?”
Samlooksatme,mouthturneddown.“Doyouthinkshewould?Didyourboss?”
“No.”
“WhatIrealizedlaterwasit’snotonlysex.It’spower.Shesawavulnerabilityinmeandtookadvantage.”
“I’mweak,iswhatyou’resaying.”ImovefurtheraroundthesideofthebalconyandSamfollows.We’renowcompletelyhiddenfromthecrowd.
“IthinkToddsawyoucareaboutpeopleandyouavoidcallingattentiontoyourself.Hesawachance.”
Thisistootrueformetodebate.“Didtheactingcoach…I’msorry.”IsuddenlyrealizeI’mprying.
“Imanagedtodropthescript,andwhenIbenttopickitup,Ipretendedtofalloffthechair,mutteredmyapologies,andranout.”
“Smart.”
“IfeltlikeanoverreactingidiotuntilIwentbackandtoldFangliandChen.Weknewtherewasnopointintellingtheinstructorssotheyhelpedmetalkitthrough,processit.Thatwasthat.”
“Whataboutthecoach?”
“Fadedintoobscurityaftershegotcaughtmisreportinghertaxes.”Hesmilesbroadly.“Imighthavebeentheonetoreporther.”
“Theysayrevengedoesn’tmakeyoufeelbetter.”
“Dothey?Feltprettygreattome.”
Sam’sstoryencouragesmeaboutthesituationbutIstillfeellikepastmewasgutless.“Ishouldhave…”
Heputsafingeronmylips.“Fuckshoulds.”
“But…”
“Gracie,youareperfectasyouare.It’snotabadthingtowanttokeeppeaceinyourlifeandcareforthepeopleinit.Thatabadpersoncanmanipulateitdoesn’tmeanit’swrong.Tobekindandgenerousisagift.”
“Pleasetakeyourseats.”Ihearanusherpolitelyherdingpeopleintothemainroom.“We’reabouttobegin.”
Inoursecludedsidealcove,SamandIignorehim.
“ToddknowsI’mGraciewhenI’mdressedlikethis,asFangli.”Ipointtothetubetop.
“Didyouadmitit?”
Ithink.“No.”
“ThenforgetTodd.”Heputshisfingerundermychintoliftmyface.“You’rebeautifulinsideandout.Don’tletapersonlikehimextinguishanyofyou.Youshouldbeproudofyourself.”
“Thankyou.”Myreplyisbarelyawhisper.
“Gracie.”He’ssoclose.Thebreezefromthelakelicksmyskinwherehepushesmyhairbackbehindmyshoulder.
“Sam?”Idon’tmovefortworeasons.ThefirstisthatmykneesaresoshakythatifImove,Imightfallover.ThesecondisthatIwanthimtomakethechoice.IwantSamtoclosethedistancebetweenus.
Hedoesn’tmakemewaitlongbeforehepresseshislipstomine,butterflysoftandsofleetingIwonderifithappened.Thenhepullsback,onlyabit,asiftogaugemyreaction.“Gracie?”heasks.“Isthis…thisisgood?”
“God,yes.”IwraponearmaroundhisneckandgrabhisarmwiththeotherasIriseuponmytoes.IcanfeelthesmileonhislipsdisappearasIleanintohimforaproperkiss,theoneI’vebeencravingeversinceIsawhimonthatstupidmagazinecover.Hismouthslotsperfectlyintomineandthistime,it’sreal.Samiskissingme,Gracie.NotFangli.Hisarmsarewrappedaroundme,andhekissesmeagain.Hiddenonabalconyoverlookingadarklake,hekissesmeuntilallIcanthinkofisSam.
Thisisallreal.Icanfeelit’sreal.Iknowit’sreal.Ithastobe.Thirty-One
I’mnotsurehowImakeitthroughtherestoftheChanelparty.Angularwomenstrutinfrontofmeinthousandsofdollars’worthofclothesandIreactwithsmilesandappreciativenodsforthecamerasandeyestrainedonmyface.AllthishappensontheperipheryofmymindbecauseallIcanthinkaboutisSam’slegbrushingmewhenhemovesandthankingeverygodinexistencethatthelipstickIworetonightislayeredwithavarnishthatwouldwithstandahurricane.Ourbalconymake-outsessiondidn’tevensmudgeit,letaloneleavethetwoofuswithclownmouths.That’saqualityproductworthyofafive-starAmazonreview.
Ican’ttelliftheshowendstoosoonortoolate,butatsomepoint,weclappolitely,stand,andgo.Samushersmesilentlyintoourwaitingcarandsitsbesideme.Veryclosebesideme.
Hetakesoffthewigandbrusheshishandovermyshorthair,whichissweatyandmussedfrombeingundertheequivalentofaninsulatedwinterhat.“Gracie,”hesays,hisfingerstracingalongmyearandpushingthewispsback.
Iwantthis.HowcouldInot?Themanwho’sburrowedhimselfinmymindisabouttokissmeagain.Luckily,thereisnomomenttooromanticandnoexperiencetoowondrousthatmybraincannotruin.
“Weneedtotalkaboutthis,”Isay,pushinghimback.
Theslashedbrowsalmostmeetinthemiddle.“Aboutmekissingyou?”
“Moreaboutwhy.”
Heblinks.“DidyouwanttheentirethoughtprocessorshallIsummarizethehighlights?Icanprobablymanageaquickslidedeckonmyphoneifyougivemeafewminutes.There’satemplateIlike.”
“There’snoneedtobeajerk.”
Hecapturesmyhandinhisandkissesmyfingers,hislipswarmonmyskin.“IwanttokissyoubecauseIwanttokissyou.Idon’tknowhowtobreakitdown.Ican’ttellyouthatit’stwentypercentthewayyousmileatmewhenIhelpyououtofthecar,orsixteenpercentthewayyoulaughatyourownjokes.”
“NotthatIlooklikeFangli?”
Samgrimaces.“I’vehadtokissFangliforweeksonstageandit’slikekissingmysister.YouarenotFangliandIwantyou.”
Hisconvictionisabitruinoustomyself-restraint.“It’sthatthisisaverystrangesituation,”Iexplain.
“Iliketothinkwe’vegrownoneachother.”
“Likeamoss?”
“Oramold.”
“Youtellmeyou’reagoodactor.Idon’tknowwhattobelieve,ifthisisrealornot.”
Hethinksaboutthis.“WhatwouldbethepointofactinglikeIwantyouifIdon’t?IfIdidn’t,therewouldbenoneedtofakethatIdid.”
Thismakessensewhenhelaysitoutlikethat.“Youcouldbepretendingtolikemebecauseyouwanttogetlaid.”
Hisentirefacecreasesindisgust.“Please.Ifmeaninglesssexwastheonlythingonmymind,Iwouldn’thaveaproblemacquiringit.”
Trueenough.SexiestManintheWorldandallthat.
“However,”headds,“I’mexcitedtoknowyou’reconsideringthepossibility.”
“Sam.”
Hesighs.“Weagreedthatwestartedoffonthewrongfoot,correct?”
“Correct.”
“Weagreedwewouldbeginfresh.Wesignedacontract.”
“Weagreed,yes.”
Heopenshishandswideasifthatsaysitall.
“I’manobody.”
Samglaresatme.“Enoughwiththat.”
“It’strue,though.Lookatyou.Rich,famous,andsoon.”
Hemovesabitaway.“IsthatallIam?That’sit?”
Shit,Iputmyfootinit.“That’snotwhatImean.”
“Suresoundslikeit.”Hisvoiceiswry.
“AllI’msayingisthat,giventhesocietyinwhichwelive,whichprioritizesfameandwealthandmakesthatdesirable,beingborninthatperfectPunnettsquareoflifemeansyoucangetwhoeveryouwant.”
“Whydoyoutalklikethisisacompetition?Idon’twanttogetanyone.Ilikeyou,GracieReed.IliketheGraciewhostoodupforFangliandmadesureshegothelpwhentherestofusweretiptoeingaroundit.Ilikethewomanwhoisobsessedwithtimemanagementtechniquesandwhosetowelsfalloffonarecurringbasis.”
Myfaceheats.“Iwashopingyou’dforgetthathappened.”
Hesnorts.“Mebeabletoforgetyoustandingtherewithnotowel?Never.”
“Itwasanaccident.”
“That’swhatmadeitgreat.”Hesmiles.“That’sthewomanIwant,theonewhopicksupthetowellikeit’snobigdealanddoesn’tfussaboutit.Iwanttheonewho,whenaskedtotakepartinthemostidioticplanI’deverheard,decidestogiveitagobecauseshehasenoughconfidencetopulloffbeingWeiFangli.”
NoonehaseverdescribedmeasconfidentbuthearingitfromSammakesmerealizemaybeIammorethanIthought.ImullthisoverasItrytotampdownthefireworksgoingoffinmychest.“Thisisashort-termcontract,”Isay.“I’mgoingtobeoutofyourlifeinamonth.”
“Alotcanhappeninamonth.”Hemovesback.“Gracie,youhavenoideaoftherisksItaketobewithyou.Goingforwalks?Visitingyourmom?”
“Thosearenothigh-stakesactivities.Lotsofpeoplewalkaround.”
“Iamnotlotsofpeople.Iknowthisplaysintoyourneedtoseemeasshallowandegotisticalbutmyimageisimportant.I’mcautious.”
Iwigglemyeyebrowsathim.“Makingoutonabalconywhenanyonecouldhavecomearoundthecorner?”
“ThisisexactlywhatImean.Youmakeme…”Hethrowshimselfbackintheseatandrunshishandsthroughhishair.“It’slikeeverythingIthoughtwasseriousbecomeslesssowhenyou’rearound.”
“AmIoffendedatthat?IthinkImightbe.”
“I’msaying,obviouslypoorly,thatyougivemeperspective.I’mgrateful.Ilikeit.”Heshrugs,lookingattheroof.“Ilikeyou.”
Iwanttoquizhimonthisabit.LikeasinthewayIlikehotshowers?Likeasinappreciatesmycompany?Or,helikelikesme?ButIchickenoutbecauseI’mnotsureI’mreadyfortheanswer.It’sanemotionalrollercoasterofanight,tobefrank,andpartofmejustwantstoputoffalltalkoffeelingsuntiltomorrow.
Samstraightensupandlooksatme,handspressedflatagainsttheseat.“Gracie,I’veneverforcedamoment.I’mgoingtosithere.Whathappensnextisuptoyou.”
Hedoesn’tevenhavetimetofinishbeforeI’monhim.Hishandscomeuptocatchmearoundthewaist,turningustoleanagainstthebackoftheseats.KissingSamislikenothingI’veexperienced.WhenRileykissedme,itwasalwaysasifitwaspreparationforthemainevent.Samkissesmeasifit’sthedestination,notthejourney.He’steasing,layeringtinykissesonthecornersofmymouthbeforehecapturesmylowerlipwithhis.Thenheletsmego.
“Gracie?”
“Yes?”Igivemyheadashaketogetmybrainbackinorder.“What’swrong?”
“Youseemalittle…Ahh.”HewrigglesandIslowlygraspthatI’vebeenstiff-arminghisshoulders.
“Sorry.”Thistime,heletsmetaketheleadandIcanfeelhowhismouthmeltsundermine.Releasinghisshoulders,Icardmyfingersthroughhishairandhegroansagainstme.“Keepdoingthat,”hesays.
Aminutelater,wepushapartandhegrins.“Bytheway,youlookedtotheleftagain,”hesays.
“Shouldwestop?”
Herunshishandovermyleg.“No,Ithinkmaybeweshouldpractice.”
Wedofortherestofthedrive.
***
Idon’thavesexwithSam,butonlybecauseI’mnotthatspontaneousandIwanttoshaveabovemykneesfirst.Notevenpassioncangetpastmymentalgatekeeper,theDreadLadyOverthinker.
Themomentwearriveatthehotel,Irearrangemywigsowelooklikewe’vedonenothinginthecarbutchatplatonicallyandcheckourphones.Mylipstickcontinuestobetonight’srealMVP,andIdon’tneedtotouchitupatall.
Consciousofthesecuritycameras,wedon’tmakeoutintheelevator,althoughSam’shairisdisheveledandhislipsareevenfullerfromkissinginthecar.Heleavesmechastelyoutsidemysuite,whereImanagetolockthedoorandtakeasinglestepbeforeIsinkdownonthewoodenfloorandcurlupinarictusofunbelievinghappiness.
Whichimmediatelyturnstototalterror.WhathaveIdone?Wehadagoodthinggoing,acollegialthing,andI’veblownthatrightoutthewindow.Whatifheregretsthisinthemorningandit’sweird?WhatifFangliismad?WhatifIturnintoajealousshrewofawoman,furiousthishastobekeptsecretfromtheworld?
WhatifIgethurt?Ihaven’tbeenwithamansinceRiley.Ishouldhaveatleasttakenarideonthemerry-go-roundbeforeIbuckledinfortherollercoaster.
There’snooneIcantalkto.FangliisasleepandsoisAnjali.Idon’tknowwhattosaybecauseIdon’tknowhowIfeel,exactly.It’salmostlikethefirsttimeIhadsex,whereIwantedtotelleveryoneandalsohugthesecrettomyselftosavorit.
Toowiredtodoanythingasbanalassleep,Iputteraroundmysuitetidyingandthinking.Fretting.SamputToddoutofmymindbutnowthatI’malone,I’mworriedaboutwhathe’sgoingtodo.Myseverancefromworkissafebutwhatifhecomeslookingforme?Whatifhetriestocontactmeorthreatenus?He’svindictive;Iknowthatfromhowhetreatedpeopleatwork,howhetreatedme.Ihatethattheamountofrealestateheshouldtakeupinmyheadshouldbethesizeofahovel,asubcloset,butinsteadhe’slivingrent-freeinasprawlingmansion.
AknockcomesattheconnectingdoorthatleadstoFangli’sroom.“Areyouawake?”sheasksthroughthedoor.
Iopenit.“Yeah.”
“Ican’tsleepandIsawthelightunderyourdoor.”Fanglirubshereyes.“CanIcomeinforabit?”
“Let’ssitonthebalcony.”ItwouldbenicetohavethecompanyandtakemymindoffworryingaboutTodd.Butnowthatthere’sanotherhumannearme,I’malmostburstingwithmySamnews.ThatgetsdivertedalmostimmediatelywhenFanglitouchesmyhand.
“YouweretheonewhohadSammakemeagreetotalktosomeone,”shesays.“Thankyou.”
“Thedecisionwasyours,”Isay.“Ithinkyouwereready.”
“Sam’sbeentryingtogetmehelpforyears.”Shetakesherhandback,andthechairlegscratchesassheshiftsitalongtheconcretebalcony.“Ididn’trealizehowheavilyitweighedonhim.”
“Hewasworriedaboutyou.”
“Iknow,butIdidn’twanttoadmitit.”Fangliraisesherfacetowatchthefullmoonfloodingthesky.“Ithoughtitwouldbedeathformycareer.That’swhatmymanagersaid.Hetoldmetocuremyselfbecauseitwasn’tthatbad.”
“Cureyourself?”
Sheglancesatmeoutofthecornerofhereyeandgivesmeasmallsmile.“Itdidn’twork.”
“No,Iimaginenot.Itdidn’tforme.”
“Youtried,too?”
“FailedthesamewayIwouldn’tbeabletocuremyownpneumoniaorcancerthroughwillpower.”
“Ineverthoughtofitlikethat.”
IthinkoverwhatIwanttosay.“Yousaiditwouldbebadforyourcareer.”
“MymanagersaidifitwasknownIhadproblems,noonewouldhireme.TheywouldthinkIwasunpredictable.”
“Whenwasthis?”
Shethinks.“Fiveorsixyearsago.”
Imakeupmymind.“You’remoreestablishednow.Otherpeoplefeellikeus.Itmighthelpthemtoknowthey’renotalone,ifyouthinkthat’ssomethingyoucando.”
ThelongsilencemakesmeworryI’vegonetoofar.Thenhersoftvoicerises.“Ithinkso,too.ButIdon’thavethecourage.”
“You?”Itwistinmychair.“Didyouknowoneofthemostcommonfearsisspeakinginpublic?Youdoitallthetime.Youputyourselfouttherewithyourartinfrontofacriticalworld.Icouldneverdowhatyoudo.Idon’thavetheguts.”
Sheburstsoutlaughingandgrabsmyshoulder.“Youdon’t?Whatdoyouthinkyou’vebeendoingforamonth?You’retheonewhotookachancewhenIaskedyoutopretendtobeme.Doyouthinkmostpeoplewouldhavethecouragetodothat?”
“Ithinkitwasthemoney.”
“No,you’rebraverthanyouwanttobelieve,”shesays.Sheeyesme.“Youliketopretendyou’renotboldbecauseit’sanexcusetonotstretchyourself.”
Iwince.“Harsh.”
“Youhelpedme.Thisismehelpingyou.SamtoldmeaboutEppyandhowwellyoudidfilmingwithhim.Youcandowhateveryousetyourmindto,Gracie.I’veseenthisinyoubutyouneedtoseeitinyourself.Ibelieveinyou.”
HaveIeverhadapeptalklikethis?Momlovesmebutshewasmoreaboutsettingrealisticexpectationstoavoiddisappointmentandfailure.Ineverhadanyonetellmetodream.I’mnotevensureI’veeverhadatalkwithafriendlikethisbefore,atleastnotsober.
Fanglifetchesablanketfrominside.“Cashmereorwool?”sheasksasshespreadsitoverourknees.
“Forwhat?”
Shetwitchesthecorneroftheblanket.“Whatmaterialdoyouprefer?”
“Neither.Ilikethatsyntheticstufftheymakeintostuffedanimals.It’ssosoftyoucanbarelyfeelitonyourfingertips.”
“Ilikecashmere,”shesaysinthecomfortabletoneofawomanwhoownsalotofit.“Yakisgood,too.”
“Yak?”Iturntoseeherface,paleinthemoonlight.“Isn’tthat,youknow…yakky?Coarse?”
“Oh,no.Theinnercoatisverysoft.”
Ifilethatinformationawayandwesitinthedarkforawhilelonger,idlyquizzingeachother.
Pastaorrice?
Trainorplane?
Dramasorcomedies?
Despiteourdisagreementaboutthebestblanketfiber,weareeerilyinsyncfortherestofourchoices.Finallywebothyawninunison.
“Backtobed,”Isay,happytohavedistractedmyselfbacktoexhaustion.
Fanglileansovertogivemeahugbeforeshestandsuptogo.“I’llseeyoutomorrow.”
Idragmyselfintothebathroomtoshower.Thewaterwashesawaysomeofmyuneaseandaftertowel-dryingmyhair,Icollapseintobed.ToddcrossesmymindandIforcehisnastyfaceawaywithaphysicalgesture.
TomorrowIcanworryaboutthis.
Tonight,I’mgoingtodreamaboutwhatIwant.Eppy.Ajob.Freedom.Momsafeandhappy.
AndmaybeabitaboutkissingSam.Thirty-Two
Samthrowshistablettothesideandstretchesonthecouchwherehe’sostensiblybeenreviewingscripts.Forthelasttwentyminutes,he’sbeenshootinglittleglancesinmydirectionasifhopingtocasuallycatchmelookingupfrommylaptop.
ThelasttimeIdid,he’dsmiledandI’dblownhimanover-the-topkiss,whichhehadpretendedtocatchoutofmidairandtuckintohispocket.Thenhe’dgonebacktoworkasifnothinghadhappened,ignoringmeasIgroaned.
Hegetsupandbeginspacing.Iwaituntilhe’smademultiplecircuitsoftheroombuthedoesn’tsayaword.
“You’regoingtowearapathintothatfloor,”Iobservefinally.
“Areyoudoneworking?”
“Doyouhavesomethingmoreinterestingformetodo?”Iglanceupandseethewickedexpressiononhisface.“Nevermind.”
Heassumesalookofextremeinnocence.“Iwasgoingtosuggestasedategameofcardsbutwhatdidyouhaveinmind?”
Irollmyeyesandclosemylaptop.“Youhatecardsbecauseyousuckatthem.”
“True.Iwaslyingaboutplayingcards.”Henodsoutthewindow.“Whatarethose?”
“TorontoIslands.”
“Realislands?”Samlooksatthemwithnewinterest.
“Sandspitstheydumpedabunchoflandfillontomakebigger.”Ijoinhim.It’srainingsotheislandslookmysteriousunderathinfog.Ihaven’tbeenoverthereinyears.
“Where’sthebridgetodriveover?”
“Youtakeaferry.”Ipointtoalittleshipchuggingacrossthewater.“There’sone.”
“Aferry?”Helooksatitlongingly.
“Youlikeferries?”
Heturnstomewithafacethatexpresseshisdisbeliefthatanyonecouldnot.“Ofcourse.WhenIwasinHongKong,IalwaystooktheStarFerrytocrosstheharbor.”Hetugsathisear.“Mymotherhatedmedoingthat.”
Hegoesovertothefridgeandpokesaroundbeforecomingbackempty-handedtostareoutthewindowagain.Hiseyesfollowtheferryasherocksbackonhisheels,lostinthought.Samlookstrappedinthisfancyhotelroom,andIwanttotakethatblankexpressionfromhisface.
“Let’sgooutonanadventure,”Isayimpulsively.“Youandme.”
Samraiseshiseyebrows.“Iamsomewhatfrightened.”
“I’mhurtbyyourskepticism.Allmyideasaregoodideas.”HeopenshismouthandIsteamrolloverhim.“Getyourthings.”
“Youwanttogonow?Intherain?”Heactslikeit’sacidfallingfromthesky.
“Areyouawitchthatyou’llmeltifyougetwet?”Imovepasthimtoopenthebalconydoorandstickahandout.“It’sbarelyspitting.”
“Imightbeseen.”Icanhearthewaverinhisvoiceandwanthimtosayyes.Itwouldbefuntogoout.Onadate?It’snotadate.Isit?Whatconstitutesadateanyway?
“Inthisweather?”Ishakesmyhead.“Idon’tthinkso.Theislandsarebusyinthesummerbutlesssoinbadweather.”
“Anadventure,huh?”
Islidethebalconydoorbackshut.“It’llbegood,Ipromise.”
Hemullsitoverandthengrinsandgivesmealight,quickkissthatmakesmeblinkwithsurpriseathownaturalitfeels.“Itwill,withyou.”
SamgoestogetreadyandIfirstpressmyfingersagainstmylipsbecause,wow,kissingSamnevergetsold.ThenIwonderifI’macompletedumbasstobedraggingSamoutintherainforanoutdooradventurewhenIcouldhavesuggestedwehaveindoorones.
Maybelater.
Finally,IcheckfortheumbrellathatmustcomewiththeroombecauseIknowrichpeopledon’thavetoremembertobringthingslikethatwhentheytravel.IonlyhaveonesoIknockonFangli’sdoor.Meianswersandwaitsformetospeak.
“Doyouhaveanyumbrellas?”Iask.“SamandIaregoingonadatesoIneedtwo.”
Herfacefreezes.“Pardon?”
“Notadate,”Irushtoexplain.“Awalk.It’snotadate-date.DoyouthinkFangliwillbemad?”Ican’taskifsheandMeiwanttocomebecausewecan’tbetogether.
“Excuseme.”
Sheshutsthedoorinmyface.Istandthere,shocked.Meiisneverrude.Cold,yes,evenabrupt,butneverrude.ThenthedooropensandMeihandsoutanumbrella.
“Oh,thanks,”Isay.“Uh,everythinggood?”
“Haveaniceday.”ThistimeshewaitsuntilIturntoshutthedoor.
Iletitgo—Meiisaneternalmysterytome—andgotomeetSam.
“Wherearewegoing?”HetakestheumbrellaIhandhim.IrealizeSamdoesn’thavemanysurprisesinhislife—everythingisscheduled—anddecidetomakehimwaittoknow.
“You’llsee.”
It’satwenty-minutewalk,andSambadgersmeaboutourdestinationtheentireway,laughingwhenIgivehimincreasinglysillylocations.
“Theelevatorattheendoftheworld?”herepeats.“Youjustsaiditwastheinvisibleshoppingcenter.”
“Couldbethepioneervillageneartheunderpass.”Hegivesmeadoubtfullook,sincethiscouldbearealplace.“Kidding,thepioneervillageisfurthernorth.We’rehere.”
“Theferryterminal?We’retakingaferry?”Helightsup.
SamisasexcitedtogetontheferryasI’veeverseenhimoranyperson.Aspredicted,hardlyanyoneisgoingovertotheislandsinthisweather,andSamrelaxesabitunderhisumbrella,holdingithightoreadthesigns.
“DowewantCentreIsland,Ward’sIsland,orHanlan’sPoint?”heasks.
“Hanlan’shasthenudistbeach.”
Hewiggleshiseyebrowsatme.“I’mgameifyouare.”
“You’rewearingafacemaskandahatsolowyoulookliketheinvisiblemanindisguise,”Isay.“Youexpectmetobelieveyou’dgotoanudistbeach?Wheretheentirepointistobenaked?”
“Well,Idoubtthey’dbelookingatmyface.”
Don’tlookdown.Don’tlookdown.Ikeepmyeyesstraight.“We’regoingtoCentreIsland.”
Theferryarrivesinafewminutes.Samclimbsthestaircasetotheupperlevelandleansovertheside,breathingindeeply.“Ilovethesmellofwater,”hesays.
“Oceanorlake?”
“Oceanbutlakewilldo.Ihavepropertiesonboth.”Hecatchesmyglance.“Grosslyoverindulgenttohavemultiplehomes?”
“Youknowitis.”
“They’reinvestments.Irentthemout.”
“Slightlybetter.”
TheferrystartsmovingandSamgrinsintothewind,hiscapitalistspiritsilencedbythebeautyoftheview.Samstandsatthefrontoftheferry,watchingtheislandasitapproaches,thenmovestotheback.Thecityshrinksinthedistanceuntilittransformsintoagraph,theCNTowerthewesternoutliertothenormaldistributionofdowntownbusinesstowers.Afewintrepidboatersareout,andonedudeonaJetSkizoomsby.IoftenforgetthatTorontoisalakecityandtherearepeoplewhoownthingslikekayaksandactivelyenjoybeingonthewater.
Whenwearrive,Sam’scontenttoletmeplaytourguide.Eventhoughit’sbeenyearssinceI’vebeentotheislandsandit’srarelybeenwhilesober,Idoagoodjobofgettingustothebeachontheothersideoftheisland.Therainhasstoppedbutit’sdeserted.Wepulloffourshoesandmakeourwayacrosssandthat’sbeendappledbytheraindrops,takingselfiesanddigginginourtoes.
“Canadageese,”Samsays,pointingasifIcanmisstheflocktenmetersaway.“Pretty.”
“Don’tgonearthem,”Iwarn.“Geesearemean.”
He’salreadyapproachingthemandlooksoverhisshoulderwithscorn.“Icanhandleagoose,Gracie.”
Iswipethewateroffapicnicbenchandsitdowntoenjoytheshow.Samisdeterminedtogettheperfectclose-upofoneofthegeese,asifthezoomfeaturedoesn’texistforareason,andhecreepscloser.IpulloutmyphoneandstartthevideotoshowFanglilater.
He’salreadyoff-balanceinastealthyattempttogettothegoosewithoutspookingitwhenitattacks,thrustingoutitsbeakasiftogivehimanip.Samleapsback,phoneflyingofftotheside.ThegoosehissesandadvancesonhimandSam—actionstarSamYao,heroofthesilverscreenSamYao—fallsbackonhisbuttanddoessomeweirdcommandorolltogetawayfromit.
I’mlaughingtoohardtofilmproperlysoIdon’tcaptureSam’sindignantexpressionwhenhepopsbacktohisfeet
“It’snotfunny.”
“I’msorry.”
“Goahead.”Heduststhewetsandoffhisknees.
“What?”
“Sayit,Gracie.Iknowyouwantto.”
“Itoldyou.Itoldyouso.”Ihopoffthebenchtofindhisphone,whichIhandover.
“Youdid.”Heopenshisphoneandwecheckthephoto.Samcapturedthegooseinattackmodeandtheentireimageisawide-openhissingbeak,slightlyblurred,withopenwingsinthebackground
Thatsendsmeintoanotherlaughingfit.Samgroans.“Allthatfornothing.”
“Nothing?That’saclassicgooseshot.It’sgorgeous.”
“Likeyou.”
Doeshemeanthatasarealcomplimentoraquicktease?Idon’twanttosay“thankyou”ifit’sthelatterbecausethatwouldbeembarrassing.Idecidetotreatitlikeajoke.“Ithinkthegoosehasbetterfeathers.”
Samreachesouttotouchmyhair,thenrealizeshe’scoveredwithsandwhenacloddropsonmyshoulder.“You’remuchprettierthanagoose,feathersornot,”heassuresmeasherubshishandsonhisthighs.
Isitstillajoke?It’ssafertoactasthoughitis.“Highbar.”
Igrabmyshoesandkeepgoingdownthebeach.Samcomesupfrombehindandalmosthesitantlylaceshisfingerswithmine,hishandwetfromtherainandroughfromthesand.Idomybesttobecasualbutholdinghandsisalmostmoreintimatethankissing.WhenIglanceup,Samsmilesandkissesmytemple.
Ugh,whyishelikethis?Myheartcan’tdeal.
Wewalklikethatforabit,matchingourstepstoeachotheruntiltherainbeginsagainandweletgotoopenourumbrellasasthewindpicksup.Igaspasitcatchesmyumbrellaandpromptlyturnsitinsideout.
SamkeepsusdryasIcheckmyumbrellaover.“Broken,”Isay.
Hewrapshisarmaroundme,heavybutwarmonmyshoulders,andholdstheumbrellaoverbothofus.“Shallwekeepwalkingordoyouwanttogo?”heasks.Therainhasbeadedonhishatandhismaskistuckedunderhischin,readytopullonifsomeonecomes.
“Keepgoing.”
Imovebuthetugsmeback.“Iforgiveyouforlaughing,”hesays.
“Iforgiveyoufornotlisteningtomeaboutthegoose.”
“Fairenough.”Hebendsdownandkissesme,lipscoolfromthedampday.Therainpattersagainsttheumbrellaasmyhandscomeuptowraparoundhisbiceps,bringinghimevencloser.ThekissesmeldtogetherandthesoundofthelakefadesandSamisallthereisaroundme.He’swarminthecoolday,andhishandssmoothdownthedropletsonmyhair.Whenhepressestinykissesonme,heleavesalongerpausebetweeneachone,makingmechaseafterhim.
HislastkissmakesmeshiverandI’mnotsureifit’sfromthechillorhistouch.Inanycase,hepullsback,rubbingmyarms.“Let’swalktowarmup,”hesays.
Weturneasttothewalkwaythattracestheedgeofthelake.Theraincomesinfitsandstarts,thesameasourconversation.
“Youknowwhat’sweird?”Iask.
“Thatthelargestlivingthingonearthisafungus?”
“What?No.”Ihopoverapuddle.“Seriously?Notawhaleoratree?”
“ThehumongousfungusinOregon.”
“ThatisfascinatingbutnotwhatIwasthinking.WhywouldIbethinkingofthat?”
Hepicksuparocklyingontheboardwalkandtossesitouttothelake.“Iwas.”
“ImightdelveintothatlaterbutIwaswonderingaboutwhyinterviewersdon’taskyouorFangliaboutpoliticsorhumanrightsinChina.It’sstrange.It’sinthenewsallthetime.”
“That’snotstrange.ReportersaremoreinterestedinFangli’smanicureandhowIgetinshapeforactionroles.Generallyfanswantustosticktoourlaneandreportersgivethemwhattheywant.”
“Oh.”
“Idon’tneedtoshareallmypersonalthoughtswiththeworld.”Heeyesmewithamusement.“DoCanadianactorsspeakoutagainstyourowncountry’sabuses?”
“Notoften,”IadmitafterIthinkaboutit.
“Didyoueverthinktoaskwhywe’reresponsibleforansweringforourgovernmentwhenthey’renotresponsibleforyours?”
“Agoodpoint.”
“Obviously,thereareproblemswithmyhome,”hesays.“Thoseareissuesforustosolve,thesameasyoursareforyoutosolve.”
Wewalkalonginthemistyrainforafewmoreminutes,thinking.
“Doyoucomeherealot?”heasks.“Thisisacalmingplace.”
“NotasmuchasIshould,”Isay.
“Wheredoyouusuallygo?SayyouhaveaSaturdayfree.YouridealSaturday.”
ItugatabranchasIpass,lettingthewetleafdragalongmypalm.Theentireleftsideofthepathistreed.“Itwouldbesummer,butnottoohot.I’dtakeabookandgotoacaféIlikeinKensingtonMarket.TheyhavethoseParisian-styleseatsonthesidewalkandI’dgetaMexicanhotchocolateandsitandreadandwatchthepeoplepass.”
“Allday?”
“Twohours.”AfterthatI’dneedtopee,andwhenyou’realone,youcan’tleaveyourbag,soI’dmightaswellheadout.“ThenI’dwanderthroughthemarketandlookinsomestorestobuythingsIdon’tneed,likeahat.”
“Wouldyouseeashow?Gotoamovie?”
“Nope.I’dgoseeMom.Howaboutyou?”
“Myperfectday?Sleeping.I’dsleepinandturnoffmyphoneandthensitonthecouchanddonothing.Iwouldn’tleavetheapartment.Getfooddelivered.”
“Whatifyouhadtoleavethehouse?”
“Iwouldn’t.”
“It’sonfire.Youhaveto.”
“Ifmyapartmentisonfire,thenit’snotmyperfectday.”
“It’sathoughtexercise,Sam.”
Hegivesmeashyglanceoutofthecornerofhiseye.“Youwon’tlaugh?”
“Crossmyheart.”
“It’snotveryexciting.”
“Mydayinvolvedreadinganddrinkinghotchocolate,”Iremindhim.
“I’dgoforawalkinapark.There’soneathomecalledBeihaiPark.Theamahsweren’tallowedtotakemebecausemyparentswereworriedaboutsecuritysoI’veneverbeen.”Herollshisshoulders.“I’dseethewaterlilies.Iheardthey’rebeautiful.”
PoorSam.Hislifemixesextremeprivilegewithsuchapovertyofnormalexperience.Hedoesn’twaitformetospeakbutsays,“Yourday.You’dspenditmostlyalone?”
Iconsiderthis.“Imightmeetafriendforadrinkintheeveningbutyeah,Iguess.Sameasyou.”
“I’dmeetyouafterIsleepin,”heoffers.“Youcouldcometotheparkwithme.”
Ibophisshoulderwithmyhead.“I’dlikethat.”
Weheadbacktotheferry,doingtandemsillywalksaswetrytostayundertheumbrella.TheferrywillbeafewminutessoIgointothecafétograbhotchocolateasSamstaysunderatree,keepinghisfacedown.
WhenIhandoverhispapercup,Inoticehisrightarmissoaked.“Whathappened?”
Hegivesmealookoverthetopofhiscup.“It’sraining.”
“I’mdry,though.”Ishakemyarmsathimandimmediatelyspillabitofmydrink.
“Good,”hesays,glancingup.“There’stheferry.Canwesitonthetopagain?”WhenInod,hekissesmeonthenoseandhislipswarmmeallthewaythrough.“Ichangedmymind,”hesays.“Aboutmyperfectday.”
“Nopark?”
Heshakeshishead.“I’ddothisagain.”
Yeah,Ithinkitwasadate.Thirty-Three
Thedayafterourmaybedateisnotweirdbutalsoisn’tnotweird.
Samwarnedmehe’dbebusybuttextsmelittlethoughtsthroughouttheday,andIfindmyselfcarryingmyphonearoundwithmeincaseImissone.It’snotproductiveandIfinallytextAnjaliaftergettingreadyforbed.
jfcitwastotallyadate,shewrites.
Istareatthescreen.Myphonerings.
“Youknowitwasadate,”Anjalisays
Iwraptheplushrobecloseraroundmeandadjustthepearl-infusedsheetmaskMeileftoutformetogetitoutofmyeye.“Itwas,right?”
“Kissing?Hotchocolate?Holdinghands?”
“Whatdoesitmean,though?”
Anjalisnorts.“Thatyouenjoyeachother’scompanyandaregettingtoknoweachother.Andwanttobang.”
“Probably.”
“Youmispronounced‘definitely’as‘probably.’”
“Idon’tknowifthat’sagoodidea.”ThemaskslipsagainandItrynottomovemymouthtoomuchwhenIspeak.
“Noneofthisisagoodidea.”
“Idon’tneedtocompoundit.”
“Youdon’tneedtodoanythingyoudon’twantto,”sheremindsme.“Thequestionisifyouwantto.”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Thenfigureitoutbeforeyougofurther.”
Easyforhertosay—shedoesn’thavetodealwiththedreamboatthatisSamYaoupcloseandpersonal.Igiveanoncommittalresponseandchangethetopic.“How’swork?”
“Ihadtoreprimandaguyonmyteam,”shesays.“HethoughtitwasagoodideatouseaphotoofMileyCyrusonthewreckingballashislaptopbackground.”
“Why?”
“Saiditwasaculturalmeme.Iwalkedhimthroughhowitwasabadidea,andhetookitbetterthanIexpected.NotToddlevel.”
“Stillirritating.”
“I’llsay.SpeakingofTodd,hasheactedupliketheimmatureman-childthatheis?”I’dtoldherwhathappenedattheChanelshow.
“Nope.”
“Good.Bullieslikethatbackdownwhenthey’rechallenged.”
“Let’snotwastebreathtalkingabouthimanymore.”Toddisoutofmylife.“Didyoufinishwiththelifecoach?”
Shedoesn’thesitate.“Canceledthelasttwosessions.I’mincontrolhere.Nothim.”
“Youtellhim.”
“Irunmylife,andifthatmeansIremainmoderatelydictatorial,sobeit.”
“Noonetellsyouwhattodo,withinreason.”
“Noone’sthebossofme,exceptmyboss.”
Webothslapthephoneinavirtualhighfive.
***
ThenextmorningIwaketoatextfromSam.Breakfast?WhendoIgettotestEppy?
Yesandsoon,Itextback.
WemeetoutonthestreetandSam’sinhisusualdisguiseofballcap,blackjeans,andblackT-shirt.Hehasacoffeethathehandstome—alatte,exactlyasIlikeit—andapaperbagwithwhatIsuspectarepastries.
Westrolldowntothelakeandtakeaseatononeofthebencheswherehehandsmeacroissantandtakesabiteofhisown.It’speacefulwithhim,watchingthesunglistenonthelake,aloneexceptforastreamofpantingjoggerswhospeedby.
I’vebeenthinkingaboutwhatAnjalisaidaboutToddactingoutandhowI’ddealwithit.Toddisawoundthat’scurrentlystanchedandIwantcompletelycauterized.
“Thenwecalledthecompanyandhadherreinstated.”SamfinisheshisstoryaboutacolleagueandIsuddenlyturntolookathim,croissanthalfwaytomymouth.
Idon’thavetodealwithToddbymyself,becausehe’snolongeronlyameproblem.TherearepeoplebetterequippedtodealwithToddthanIam,andallIhavetodoisask.
“Ineedtoaskyouafavor,”Isay.
“Sure.”Nohesitation.
“It’saboutTodd.”
SamonlynodswhenItellhimI’mconcernedToddmighttrytogetbackatme,andasusual,thesirencallofFangli’snamespurshimintoaction.“I’lltakecareofit,”hesays.
“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
Helooksthoughtful.“Hiresomegoonstobreakhislegs?”
Ihesitate,unsureifhe’skidding.
Heliftsthebrimofhishattolookmebetterintheeyes.“I’mgoingtotalktomylawyer,Gracie.Nokneecapswillbebroken.”
“Good.”
“Unlessthelawyerrecommendsit,andthenwhatcanIdo?”
Inodseriously.“It’salawifalawyersaysit.”
Thereitis.TheendofToddinmylife,notwithabangbutwithalawyer’sdrylanguage.
Verysatisfying.
Sam’sphonerings.Helooksatit,silencesit,andtheneatstherestofhiscroissant.
“Yourmom?”Heonlygetsthattightlookaroundhismouthwhenit’sLuLili
“She’ssteppeduphercampaign.”Heglancesatthephone,thenflipsitoversothescreeniscovered.
“Howso?”
Hesighs.“ShecalledDenis.”
“Thedirectorforyournextmovie?”Afterthis,SamisduetostartfilmingonacorporatespyactionmoviethatIhaven’tbeenthinkingaboutbecauseitremindsmehowfiniteourtimetogetheris.
“Hetoldmeyesterday.Shedidn’tthreatenhim—Lilidoesn’tdoanythingsocrass—butshesaidshewantedhisadviceonhowtogetmetoseereason.”
“Wow.”
“Iknow,”hesays.Ilookleftandrighttoconfirmwe’retheonlyonesontheboardwalk,thenpullhimintoleanagainstme.ThefaintthumpofhisheartsoundsagainstmyarmandItracelittlecirclesonhisshoulder,feelingthemusclesslowlyrelax.Ihaveamomentofunreality,thatI’msittingherewithSamYao,buthe’sonlySam,aguyIlikewhohappenstobetalkingaboutproblemswithhisiconicmotherandhisnewactionmovie—normalpersonstuff.“LuckilyDenistookitwell.”
“Isshetryingtosabotageyou?”Whatkindofamotherdoesthis?
“Shewouldsayshe’slookingoutformyfuture.”
“Whatdidyoudo?”
“Nothing.”Hisshrugshiftsagainstme.“WhatcanIdo?It’simpossibletomakeherseereason.”
“That’sabitdefeatist.”
“Youdon’tknowmymother,”hesaysdarkly.Thephonevibratesbetweenusandweignoreit.
“Aren’tyoutheonewhotoldmethereareenoughpeopleintheworldreadytopullmedownandthatIdidn’tneedtojointhem?Samegoesforyou.”
“Hardlythesamething.”Hestands,thenturnsaway,tugginghishatdowntohidehisfaceasapodofrunnersapproachesenmasse.“Canwewalkforabit?”
WegowesttotheMusicGardenandwanderthepathsthroughthelandscapedplants.Thesunisalreadyhotbutthegardenretainssomeofthecoolnessfromthenight.
“WhatwillyoudowhenFangligoesbackhome?”heasksashebalancesontheedgeofagrass-coveredstep.Ireachouttograbhimashetiltsback,butheonlywinksatme.
“Findajob,Iguess.”I’mnotenthusiastic.
“NotEppy?”
Awarmflushcomesoverme;hebelievesinitenoughtothinkIcanmakeitabusiness.“I’llhavetodothatontheside.Needtopaythebills.”
Hehandsmeacard.“RobinBanerjee.”
Igazeatit.“What?”
“Didn’tgetachancetotalktohimtheothernight,soIaskedaround.Apparentlyhe’saniceguy.”Henodsatthecard.“That’shispersonalcell.”
“Youdidthisforme?”Itakethecard.Thereitis,blackfontonmattecardstock.RobinBanerjee’scellnumber.AttheChanelparty,I’dbeentornbetweenwantingSamtointercedeandneedingtodoitmyself.That’sfaded.Helpisn’tanythingtobeashamedofanditdoesn’ttakeawayfrommyindependence.
“Iwantonethinginreturn.”
“What?”
“YouletmeuseEppyrightaway.WithDenggone,I’mdesperatetokeepmylifeinorder.”
ItakemyphoneoutandsendhimthehiddenURLrightthenandthere.ThenIpause.“YougotmethisnumberandyouhavenoideaifEppyworksornot.”
“Ibelieveinyou,”hesays.“Youhaven’tfailedatanythingI’veseenyoutryyet.”
Whenwasthelasttimesomeonehadthisblindfaithinme,evenmorethanIhaveinmyself?CombinedwithwhatFanglisaidtheothernight,itmakesmyvisiongoalittleblurry.“Thankyou.”
“Exceptforfakinglaryngitisattheartgallery,”headds.“Thatwasbad.”
“Silence,you.”
Thephonevibratesinhispocketagainandthistimehepullsitoutwithamuffledcurse.“Mymotheragain.”
“Answerit.”
Hestaresatthescreenanddoesn’tmove.
“Sam,takethecall.”
“Foryou.”Withasigh,heanswers.“Wei?”There’salongsilencethatstretches.ItrytoreadSam’sexpression,butallhedoesissquintintothemiddledistancelikeanold-timepiratescopingoutthehorizonforland.
ThencomesaburstofMandarinandmoresilence.Iwalkovertothewater’sedgetogivehimsomeprivacy,becausewhateverthetwoofthemaretalkingaboutiscausingSamsomuchtensionhisentirebodyisclenchedtight.Sam,worldwidestar,hasmega-motherissues.Ineverwouldhavethoughthislifewasanythingbutcharmed.
Instantly,I’mashamedathowshallowIam.ThisiswhatSamwastellingmeinthecar,thatIhadtroubleseeingbeyondallthetrappingsoffame.Nomatterwhat,moneywillhelpsmoothoverwhateverproblemsSamandFangliexperience—that’snotevenupfordebate—butthemoreIseeofthem,themoretheybecomepeopleratherthancharacters.ThemoreIcareaboutthem.
Iglanceback.Sam’sfrowningattheskyashelistensandhedoesn’tneedmespyingonhim.Whenhelooksover,ImakeagesturethatIhopewillbecorrectlyinterpretedasTakeyourtime;togiveyouspace,Iamgoingtogoforaquickwalk.Athisnod,Iheaddowntowardthetallshipmooredattheendofapieraboutfiftymetersaway.
He’swaitingformewhenIgetback.“Thatwasinteresting,”hesays,tossinghisphonefromonehandtoanother.Hedoesn’tuseacell-phonecoversoIneedtoturnawaybecauseallIcanpictureisthescreenshatteredonthegroundwhenitdrops.
WewalkalongthewaterandIthumpthepalmofmyhandonthethickpedestalsthatlinetheedgeofthepath,whichapartfrommorerunnersinthedistance,isemptyatthisearlymorninghour.“Wereyouhonestwithher?”
“Iwas.”
“Notasuccess?”
HekissesthetopofmyheadandIdomybestnottomelt.“Youcansaythat.”
“Shewon’tgetoffyourbackaboutjoiningyourfather’scompany?”
“Lilionlymentioneditonce.”Hepauses.“Shehasanewgoalnow.”
“What’sthat?”
“ShedecidedI’mgoingtomarryFangli.”
“What?”Itwistaroundtoseehimlaughing,butnotinahappy,lifeisgoodway.
“ShementioneditbeforebutIheadedheroff.Nowshe’sdeterminedbecauseshesawclipsofusinTorontoandknowswe’dbeasuccessfulmatchbecauseofhowwelookedateachother.Except,inthoseclips,Iwaswithyou.”
“Shedidn’tseethatIwasn’tFangli?”
“Itoldyou,you’regood.Also,theimageshesentmeasproofofthispredestinedlovewasn’taclose-up.”Hepinchesthebridgeofhisnose.“I’dbetterwarnFangli.”Hetakesouthisphoneandfrowns.“Toolate.Herfathercalledher.”
“Yourmomandherdadknoweachother?”
“Fangli’sfatherisveryinfluential,whichmeansLiliabsolutelyknowshim.”Hisexpressionislessasmilethanalineformedbyhislipspullingtight
Ishrug.“Well,whatiftheydowantyoutogetmarried?You’rethirty.Theycan’tmakeyou.”
“Iwouldn’tputitpastthemtoannounceitonourbehalf,”hesaysgrimly.“Mymotherwouldseeitashelpingthefamilybusiness,givenFangli’sfather’sroleingovernment.”
“DoessheliveintheVictorianage?”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“Youthinkthesemarriagesdon’thappenallthetime?”
“Ineverhadtothinkaboutit.”
“Lilidoes.”Helooksatthesky.Cloudshavesweptinwithaheavywind.“Weshouldheadback.Lookslikerain.”
Hedoesn’tmove,though,anddropshisgazetotheharborinfrontofus.Theboatsbobonthewaterastheystrainagainsttheirmoorings.
“Hey,Sam?”
“What?”
Ileanoversomyshouldergrazeshisarm.“It’sokaytonotwantallthat.”
“Iknow.”Hespeaksquicklyandgivesaharshlaughthatalmosthurtstohear.
“No,Sam.”Itugonhisarmsohelooksatme.“Imeanit.”
“Ioweher,”hesays.“I’vehadaneasyridebecauseofmyparents.Theirnames,theconnections.I’dbenowhereifitwasn’tforthem.”
Ican’targuethatbecauseit’sdefinitelytruebeingthetreasuredsonofafilmstarwillgiveyouthemostheadstartofheadstartssoIfocusontherealmatter.“Youowethemlove,”Isay.“Notsomeoutdatedsenseoffilialloyaltywhereyouabaseyourselftotheirorders.”
“Youdon’tunderstand.”
“Probablynot.”Ishrug.“Tellme.WoulditbesobadtobeCEO?”
“I’dneverescapeherthen.”ThewordsspilloutandSamlooksastonished.“Holyshit,”hesays.“I’materribleson.”
“No.”IsteparoundsoI’mbetweenhimandthewater.“Youcanwanttoliveyourlife,Sam.LuLilihasherownlife.Shedoesn’tneedyoursaswell.”
HerubsthesideofhischeekandIheartheslightscrapeofhisstubbleasheworkshisfingersnervouslybackandforthwhilehiseyesmovebetweenmyfaceandovermyshoulder.Thenhishanddropsbacktohissideandhestopsmovingcompletely.“Okay.”
Whatawonderfullyfluidwordthatis,dependingonthetone.Giveitanemphasisattheendandyouhavejoyfultriumph(o-KAY!).Drawoutthebeginningforanicedoseofdoubtfulhesitation(ooo-kay?).Thenthere’sthewaySamsaysitnow,hushedandvulnerableasiftheOisawindowthroughwhichhecanseearoadheneverknewexisted.
“Okay,”Isayback.Usedtoeasethistime.
“Okay.”Firmanddecisive.Endofconversation.
Hegivesthewaterafinallookbeforehebendsdownandcapturesmymouthunderhis.Thistimehemovesslowlyenoughformetofeeltheshapeofhislipsagainstminebeforeheshiftsthetempoandpullsmetightasthekissdeepens.Hisbighandsslidefrommyshouldersuntilheholdsbothmyhandsinhisandthekisschangestosoftfluttersagainstmymouth.
It’sonlyhimandme,standingbyawind-blownlake.
Icannevertireofthis.
***
“Ican’tbelieveshecalledmyfather.”FangligivesSamatiredlookacrossthetable.ThethreeofusassembleafterFangliandSamgetofffromwork.Fanglipicksatthesashimiinfrontofher,herbrowsknittogether.
“Whatdidhesay?”asksSam.
“Myfatherthinksit’sagoodidea.He’sbeenaftermetomarrybecausehewantsagrandchild.”Shepullsherhairbackintoaponytailandletsitdropdown.“Whynow?We’veknowneachotherforyears.”
“Lilisayswelookhappytogether.”
Fangligroans.“That’sGracie,notme.”
“Sorry,”Isayweakly.“Icandialitback.”
Samputshishandonmine.Fanglinoticesandhereyeswiden.“OhmyGod,”shesays.“Howlonghasthisbeengoingon?”
“What?”weaskinunison.
Shestarespointedlyatourhands,becauseSamhasn’tmoved.“Nowondertheythinkweshouldgetmarried.”ThenshelaughsandIcantellshe’snotupsetbutmorebemusedatthesituation.
Thensheshootsmealook.“Youdidn’tsayawordtheothernight.”Anotherfrown,thisoneatSamasshepointsathimwithadramaticgesture.“Neitherdidyou!”
Hesnorts.“YoutookthatrightoutofJanuaryFebruary.”
“WhenIwasaccusingmymother-in-lawofmurder.”Shenods.“It’sapowerfulmovement.”
“Verygood,”hecomplimentsher.
“Butnotanappropriatereflectiononthesituation.”Fangliwinks.“UnlikewhenIunleasheditonmykillermother-in-law,I’mhappyforyou.”
HetightenshishandonmineasMeicomesintotheroom.HerimmobilefacestiffensevenmoreandIassumeshe’sputoffbyPDA.SheturnstoFangliandspeaksquickly.
“Mytherapistishere,”Fanglisays.Shewiggleshereyebrowsatmeandleaves,Meiclosingtheconnectingdoorfirmlybehindthem.
“ShesaidthatmoreopenlythanIwouldhavethought,”Isay.
Henodsproudly.“She’stryinghard.”Thenhegetsuptoclearthedishes.“Doyouhaveplansfortonight?”
Iplayitcasual.“Notreally.”
Hesitsbackdown.“Wanttocomehere,then?”
Igooverandsitonhislap.SamtakesmylegandpullsmeoveruntilI’mstraddlinghimandwe’reface-to-face.He’swarmandthefluttersthatstartinmystomachtakeonlymomentstorippleoutovereveryinchofmyskin.Samrunshishandsalongmyback,andwhenIbendtokisshim,Imakesuremyeyesstayonhim.
Twohourslater,I’mverygladIshavedabovemyknees.Thirty-Four
Whenthephonewakesmeup,IwanttoignoreitbecauseI’mcurledagainstSamandhe’swarm.
“Forgetit,”Imumble.
“Itmightbeimportant.”Hegropesaroundthenighttableandhandsmethephone.
He’srightbecausethenurseonthelinetellsmeMom’sdistressedagain.“It’sbeenafewdayssinceyourlastvisit,”saysthenurse.“Itmightcheerherup.”
IhangupandSamleansovertocovermybodywithhis.Lastnightwas…Ican’tthinkaboutitbecauseIneedtobeoutthedoorinafewminutes.
“Everythingokay?”heasks.Hebrushesmyhairbackfrommyfaceandnuzzlesintomyneck.
“IneedtoseeMom.”
“Wantcompany?”
Ido,Irealize.Samgivesmeakissontheforehead,whichisgoodbecausetheideaofkissinganyone,evenSam,withmorningbreathisnotapleasantone.“Givemetwentyminutes,”hesays.
HedisappearsandIgetoutofbedrejoicing.Themorningafterisalwaysacrapshoot,filledwithworriesaboutmakingthingsweird.Butitwasn’t;Samisasattentiveinthelightofmorningashewasinthedarklastnight.
Whichwasveryattentiveindeed.
Ialmostskipovertotheshower,whereIwincewhenthewaterhitstheburnonmyskinleftfromSam’sstubble.Towel-drymyhair,minimalmakeup,adress,andI’moutthedoor.Sam’swaitingbytheelevators.
Wetakepublictransitanddon’ttalkmuch.Samsitsclosetome,lazilywatchingthepeoplearoundusfromunderthebrimofhishat.Thefactthatnoonehasnoticedusonpreviousoutingsmusthavemadehimmoreconfidentaboutcomingoutwithme.
Iwanttocurlupintohisshoulder.Itwouldbesonicetokeepgoingonthisbusandneverlookback,butguilthitstheminuteIthinkit.Whatkindofadaughterthinkssuchselfishthoughts?SamtucksmyhandinhisandanachegoesthroughmewhenIrememberDadpickingupMominthosebearhugsorplantingraspberrykissesonhercheeksasshelaughed.
Ithurts.IpretendIneedtocheckmyphoneandtakebackmyhand.Whenhedoesn’treachoutagain,it’salmostasifIhaveproofthathedoesn’tcare.WhyamIdoingthistomyself?Wehadagreatnightandhe’sherewithmenow,onthebus,toseeMom.That’swhatmatters.HewantstobehereandI’mnotforcinghim.
Whenwesigninatthehome,thesmellofbleachisalmostunbearableanditstingsmynose.Mom’sinherroom,thealbumofphotosopeninfrontofher.HereyesskateovermetolandonSam.“XiaoHe,”shesays,herfingersstrokingthepageinfrontofher.TearsstreamdownherfaceandIdon’tknowwhattodo.I’veseenmymothercryexactlyonceinmylife,whenwecamehomefromthehospitalafterDaddiedandshetrippedoverashoehe’dleftbythedoor.She’dpickeditupandhuggeditandsobbedasIheldher.Shehadn’tevencriedatthefuneral.
She’scryingnowforherdeadbrotherandtalkinginfastMandarin.
“She’sbackinChinaandbegginghimforhelp,”whispersSam.“Ithinkshe’srelivingamemory.”
“XiaoHe,”callsmymother.
“ShethinksI’mherbrotheragain,”Samsays.
IgrabMom’shandasifmytouchcanyankherbackfromthepast.“Mom?”
ShemuttersinMandarinbutSamshakeshisheadinconfusionwhenIlookathimforatranslation.
“XiaoHe?”Nowhervoiceistremulousandpleading.
IsaytheideabeforeIthinkitthrough.Itmakessense.Itmightwork.“Canyoubeherbrother?”
Heturnstome,perplexed.“Whatareyouasking,Gracie?”
Idon’tthink,justwhispersoMomcan’thear.“Please,pretendtobeXiaoHetocalmherdown.Onlyforaminute.”
Samstepsback.“Ican’tdothat.”
“You’reanactorforfuck’ssake.”IstandupandworkmyhandoutofMom’sgriptomotionSamtothefarsideoftheroom.“Youdothisallthetime.”
“Notthis,”hesaysinaquietvoice.“Iwon’tdoit.”
Hewon’tdoit,whenIknowhewouldn’thesitateifitwasFangliwhoasked?Ifhecaredaboutmeatall,hewould.“Please.”
“Gracie,no.It’swrong.”
Thepettinessofhisrefusalislikeamatchlightingupmystressedmind.“It’swrong?”
“Tofoolyourmotherlikethis,yes.”Amuscletwitchesinhisjaw.
“Thisiswrong.Youhelpingmeoutwithmymotheriswrong.MepretendingtobeFangliisn’t?WherewereyourhighmoralswhenIwastrickingthatkidatthehospital?Whenwewerelyingtohim?Howcometheendsjustifiedthemeansthen?”
Hisfacegoesstill.“It’snotthesame.”
“It’sabsolutelythesameandyouknowit.”Iglareathim.“Fangliwantedit.That’swhatmakesthedifference.Fangliwastheoneasking.”
“That’snotfair,Gracie.”Hisvoiceishard.“Youruncleisrealandyourmotherisreal.FanshaveanideaofFangli—theydon’tknowtherealpersonandtheydon’twantto.Theywantthefairytale.”
“I’maskingyoutodothis.”Idon’taddbecauseI’vedonealotforyouandFanglibutthesilentwordshangbetweenus,unsaidbutnotunheard.
Heturnsabruptlyasiftowalkaway.
“Fine,leave,”Isay.“Ifyou’renotgoingtohelpme,getout.Youhypocrite.”
Momstartstocallforherbrotheragain.I’mabouttogotoherwhenSamturnsaroundandstartstospeakinMandarin,asoftandassuringtonewithnotraceofhisearlierreluctance.Ihavenoideawhathesays,butMomcalmsalmostimmediately,eatinghimupwithhungryeyes.
ItonlytakesafewminutesforMomtobegintodrift,herfacerelaxed.She’shavingmoretroublestayingawake,andtheviolenceofheremotionswouldhavetiredheroutmore.SamspeaksinalowertonethattakesonthefeelofalullabyandsoonMom’sfastasleep.
Hewaitsuntilherchinisburiedagainstherchestbeforehelooksatmewithagrimexpression.“Iwanttotalktoyou.”
WemoveintothedoorwaybecauseIwanttostaynearMombutalsodon’twanttostandinthemiddleofthecorridorforalltosee.
“Whatdidshesay?”Iask.“Whatdidshetalkabout?”IknowSam’smadbutI’mdesperatetoknowwhatcouldhaveupsethersomuch.
“Shesaidshewassorryandshedidasheasked.Shesaidshewishedshecouldhaveseenhimagainandthatheneedstobeatpeace.”Hereportsontheirconversationwithoutcommentonwhatitcouldmean.
“Thankyou.”
Samleansagainstthedoorandcrosseshisarms,theimageofamantakinghisease.“Idon’twantyourthanks.Iwantedyoutonotmakemedothat.”
“Ididn’tmakeyou,”Isay.“Iaskedandyouagreed.”
“YouknewIwoulddowhatyouasked,Gracie,andyoutookadvantageofit.”
Fuck.Hesoundsresigned,likeheshouldhaveexpectedit.“Ididn’tassumeyouwould,ifthat’swhatyou’resaying.”
“No?”Hisexpressionisunreadable.“MakingitarankingbetweenyouandFangliwasn’tadeliberatechoice?”
Icanfeelthepricklingheatofshame.“Itwasanemergency,Sam.Yousawhowshewas.”
“Wouldshehavecalmeddownifyoutriedabithardertotalktoher?”HerunshishandthroughhishairinwhatInowknowishishabitwheneverhefeelsuncomfortable.Itfallsbackoverhiseyes.“Withoutmakingherbelieveherdeadbrotherwastalkingtoher?Withoutmakingmedothat?Itwaswrong.”
“So?”Iturnonhim.“MaybeI’dtakeabitofwrongtogivehersomepeace.”
“Shesaidsheadmiredyourintegrity,”hesnapsback.“Doyouthinkshewantstruthorpeace?”
“Ithinkyoudon’tknowher,soyoucankeepyourspeechestoyourself.”
“Youcouldberight.Idon’tknowherbutIknowyou.”
“Youdon’tknowme,”Isay.“We’veknowneachotheramonth.Youdon’tknowafuckingthingaboutmeandIdon’tknowanythingaboutyou,okay?”
EvenasIsaythewords,Iwanttograbthemback.Sam’sfacegoeshard.“Isthatwhatyouthink?”
“Forgetit,”Imutter.
“HowamIsupposedtoforgetit?”
“Ididn’tmeanit.”Nowthattheflushofmyangerisgone,I’mmortified.IwasinthewrongtoaskSam.ThenastymotivationthatmademepushhimwouldbeasobvioustoeventheworstPsych101studentasitwastoSam.IwantedhimtoshowmehecaredbymakinghimdowhatIwanted.IfeelnauseousthatIstoopedsolow.Thisisnotcool.Notremotelycool.
MomstirsandIglanceoverather.“Wecantalkaboutthislater.Areyoustaying?”
“IthinkIshouldleave.”Hehesitates,thenlooksovermyshoulder.Someone’scomingdownthehall.Samtiltshisheaddownandjamsonhishat,thenleaveswithoutsayinganotherword.
“Gracie?”ThebriefresthasbroughtMomsomeclarity.Iwalkover.Damn,Ishouldhavetakenthephotoalbumawaywhileshewassleeping.
I’msoupsetwithwhat’shappenedthatmyhandsshakewhenIreachouttoclosethephotobook.Mom’shandlandswithsurprisingstrengthonmine.“TellXiaoHeIkeptmypromise,”shesaysinEnglish,lookingatme.“Ikeptthepastinthepastandlivedmyfuture.”
“Iwill.”Isootheherwithgentlepetsonherhands.Idon’tknowwhoshethinksIam.“It’stimetorelaxnow.”
Ittakesmeaboutanhourtorelaxherenoughtogetthealbumaway.Iholditinmyhands,wonderingifitwouldbebetterformetotakeithome,whenasheetfallsout,theedgejaggedfromwhereit’sbeenrippedoutofamagazine.It’saphotoofSamandFangli,apublicityshotfromoneoftheirmovies.IguessMomtookitbecauseitreminded
FinallyIseeresidentswalkingbyontheirwaytothemorningcoffeebreak.“It’stimeforacookie,”ItellMom.“Let’sseeiftheyhavechocolatechip.”
Shefollowsmelikeanobedientchild,andaftershe’shadtwocookiesandacupoftea,sheseemstobebacktoheroldself.“You’reagoodgirltovisit,butgobacktowork,”shesays.“Youarehiredtodoajobandshouldn’tdisappointthem.”HertonebrooksnoargumentandIgiveinthesameasIalwaysdidgrowingup.
Samisn’toutsidewaitingformeandthetasteofdisappointmentcomesuphardandsour.Itoldhimtoleave.WhywouldhestickaroundafterwhatIpulled?IwasworriedaboutMombutitwasn’tthechoiceIshouldhavemade.
IblinkbackthetearsasIturnthecornerandheadforthebusstop.It’salongridehome,madeevenmoredepressingbythelackoftextsfromSam.Itakemyphoneouttocheckagainandmyfingerhoversoverhiscontact.Ineedtoapologize.
HesaidIknewhewoulddowhatIasked.Iwanttoaskhimexactlywhathemeant.
Onautopilot,Igofromthebustothesubway,thesubwaytothehotel,thehoteltomyroom.Igetaglassofwaterandsitdownonthecouchtodecidemynextandhopefullylessdisastrousstepwhenthephonerings.
SamorAnjaliwouldtextandthehomeistheonlyonewhophonessoIanswerwithoutcheckingwho’scalling.“Hello?”
“IsthisGracieReed?”It’sawoman.
“Yes.”Istarehardoutthewindowatthelakewithoutfocusing.DefinitelythehomeandpleaseletMombeokay.
“ThisisMirandacallingfromZZTV.We’dlikeacommentfromyou.”
ZZTV?MyheartslamsintomythroatbutItrytoplayitcool.“Fromme?Aboutwhat?”
“Wehaveatipthatyou’reimpersonatingWeiFangliandwanttogiveyouachancetotellyoursideofthestory.Wepaywellanditwouldplayinyourfavortogetaheadofthestory.”
Ihangupwithoutsayinganotherword.Shit.Howcouldtheyhavefoundout?Whogavethemthetip?ThenIknow.Todd,ofcourse.Samhadonlytoldmehetookcareofit,notwhathedid.I’dtrustedSam,throughhislawyer,totakecareofthisbutit’sbecomingclearToddisaTerminator—alwayscomingbackwhenIthinkhe’soutofmylife.
IputtheglassofwatercarefullyonthecoffeetablebecausemyarmisshakingsohardIcan’tcontrolmyhand.
Thesecretisout.Icheckonlineimmediatelyandsagwithreliefwhennothingcomesup,thentakeadeepandshudderingbreathbeforesittingonthecouchandmentallyrunningthroughmyoptions,whichareveryfew.ObviouslythebestoneistotellSamandFangliwhat’sgoingonandletthemdealwithitbecauseI’mnoPRsharktotrytomakedealswithZZTV.I’dmakeabadsituationworse.
Ipickupmyphonebuthesitate,notwantingtocommitthewordstoascreen.MaybeZZTVishackingmyphoneandthat’showtheyknow.Iputthedevicedownonthetablebesidethewaterandeyeitlikealoadedgunbeforestaringupattheceiling.Couldtheroombebugged?
God,whataboutMom?IftheyknowwhoIam,they’llgodigging.Whatiftheycallthehomeandaskabouther?Ishouldcallthem.Istopagain.ForallthatGlenLakeisn’tXinGuang,Idotrustthemtokeeptheirpatients’privacy.Plus,ifmyphoneishacked,Idon’twanttogiveanyclues.Idon’tknowifI’mbeingparanoidorrealistic.
TheluxuryXanadusuitefeelslikeacage,thewallsclosinginovermyhead.Ijumpoffthecouchandgoouttothebalcony,whereIgriptherailsohardmyknucklesgowhite.ThisistheexactsituationAnjaliwarnedmeabout.Nowthatit’shereinfrontofme,whatdoIdo?Thatsensationofpowerlessnessbindsme—thesamefeelingIfeltgoing
Ineverwanttofeelthisagain.
Withaquickshove,Ipushawayfromtherailandcheckthetime.
IneedtotalktoFangliandSamtogetasolution.Iwon’tletthishappentomeasifIhavenothingtodoorsayaboutit.Forthefirsttime,itdawnsonmethatIneedtogivemyselfthesameconsiderationIdoMom,orFangliorSam.Ineedtomatter.
Igobackintothesuiteandovertotheconnectingdoor.Bettertodothisinpersonthanbyphone,eventhoughI’mnotsurewhattosay.IknowSam’sveryrightfullyangrywithmebutthisisurgentenoughaproblemforhimtoputasidehispersonalfeelings,atleastuntilit’sfixed.
I’mabouttoknockwhenIhearvoices—SamandFangliarebothin.
“ShetoldZZTV?”It’sSam’svoice,colderthanI’veeverheardhim.“Youhavetolethergo.”
Aretheytalkingaboutme?
“Itrustedher.”Fanglisoundssad.“Ithoughtshewaspaidenough.Howcouldshe?”
Shit,itisme.Theythinkit’smewhorattedthemout.Myhandhasn’tmovedbutnowit’sfrozen.AllIneedtodoiswalkinthereandtellthemthetruth.
Whatiftheydon’tbelieveme?Mirandahadmyname.Whathasshetoldthem?
I’mdesperatetoknowmorebeforeIgobumblingin.I’velearnedmylessonthattherearenoclear-cutanswersintheworld,nounilaterallygoodactions.Ican’thelpmymomwithouthurtingSam.Ican’thelpFangliwithoutlying.WhatIcandoisgetallthefactsbeforeIopenmymouthandembarrassmyselfyetagain.
“Keepyourvoicedown,”Fanglisays.“Shecan’thearthis,notyet.”
SamanswersinrapidMandarin,nodoubttohidewhatthey’resayingaboutmefromme,andI’mlost.
No,I’mnot.
IgrabmyphoneandtapthenewlanguageappIfound,thereal-timeaudiotranslator.MyconsciencehitsasIholdituptothecrackinthedoorbutitquicklydisappearsasIreadthetranslatedtext.Iknowit’snotgoingtobeonehundredpercentaccuratebutitwillatleastgivemethegistoftheirconversationsoIcangoinprepared.
“Whatbenefitwastherefromthesuitcase?”ThisisFangli.Thisstupidtranslator.Whatthehellisthesuitcase?
“Greed.”Sam’svoicecomesthroughclearenough.Istareatthewordsappearingonthescreensohardtheyblur.“Envy.”
“Therewasenough.”
“Forsomepeople,there’sneverenough.Ishouldhavetraveledsooner.”Hesoundsfurious.“Thatargumentcausedthis.”
“Youheatlamphaveknown.”
“Wecan’ttrustcoffee.”
“Itmusthavebeenthemackerel.”ThisisFangli.“I’lltalktoher.Ihateit.”
“I’lldoitforcheese.”
“Sam,it’smyresponsibility.Ihiredher.”
That’smeFangliisworriedaboutfiring.AndSamofferedtodoitforher.Theirvoicesdiptoolowforthetranslator,andIbackawayfromthedooruntilIbumpthetablewithmyhip.Ilookdownwithoutseeingit,myattentionheldbytheconversationgoingonbehindthatdoorbetweentwopeopleIhadcometoconsiderfriendsand,inSam’scase,morethanfriends.
ThenIcreepbackandslowlytwistthebolttolockmysideofthedoor.Iactonimpulse,onlyknowingthatIneedtostopanychanceofeitherofthemcomingin.Ineedtothinkthisthroughlogicallybutmymindjumpsfromoneideatoanotherwithoutlingeringlongenoughformetoprocess.Ineedtothink.Ican’tthink.It’stoomuch.
There’sanauraaroundmysight,almostliketunnelvision.Myeyeslightonajarofpoppiesonthetablebeforetheytraveltomyphone,whichIdon’trememberputtingdown.ThechairsarealltidilytuckedunderthewoodentableandIseeapenneartheedge.Myhandcombsovermyhair,shortandstiffwithproduct,beforegivingmyearringaslighttugandrunningthehemofmyshirtthroughmyfingers.Igrabthebackofachair.Mythoughtsbegintoslow.Asirenwailsfromthestreetoutsideandtherefrigeratorhumsinthecorner.Inthehall,Ihearsomeonelaugh.TheroomsmellsofthecandlesIlitlastnight,arichlavender,mixedwiththepurplehyacinthscentfromtheperfumedrawerofwonders.Finally,Irunmytongueovermylipandtastethesyntheticfruitofmylipbalm.
MychesthitchesabitasIinhale,likemybodyistryingnottocrybutIforcetheairinagainandagain.I’mnotokaybutIcanfunction,whichisthebestIcanaskforrightnow.
Sammighthavelikedmebutnotenough.It’sonlyslightlylesspainfulthanifhedidn’thavefeelingsformeatall.Whateverhefelt,itwasn’tsufficientforhimtodefaulttomysidewhenhethoughtIsoldthemoutandcalledZZTV.Fangliistheonewhomattered.
Ican’tpreventthewaveofself-disgust.Ishouldhaveknownthiswouldendindisasterbecausethat’swhathappenswhenyoureachtoohigh.IforgotthatthislittlebubbleI’minisn’treal.
Thebestthingformetodowouldbetounlockthatdoor,explainthatIdidnotcallZZTV,thankthemfortheirtime,andleave.
Iwantto.IknowIshould.
Idon’thavetheguts.
I’mdone,butIcandoFanglithefavorofnotforcinghertofiremeinapainfulandstress-inducingconversation.Icanhelpheronelasttimebyclearingoutwithenoughclasstoleaveusallwithsomedignityandwithouthostility.
Itdoesn’ttakemelongtopack.
ThenIwriteanemailtoFangli.
YouprobablyknowthatZZTVcalledmetogetmysideofthestory.Ihunguponthem.IknowIsignedtheNDA,butevenifIhadn’t,Ineverwouldhavetoldthem.IoverheardyouandSambutIswearitwasn’tmewhotoldZZTV.
IwishIcouldspendmoretimewithyou.I’llmissyou.Thankyouforeverything.
Ihesitate,weigheddownbythethirtygrandsittinginmybankaccount.ShouldIkeepit?ThemoneymightbetaintedbutIdidearnit.IdecidetokeepitbuttellherIunderstandifshewantsmetoreturnitandofcourseIwaiveallrightstotherestofthemoney.
IreaditoverafewtimesbeforeIdecideitwilldo.
Sam,though,Sam’sanotherstory.HeknewIneededthemoneyforMom,notoutofgreedorego.RefusingtherestofthepayseemslikeamessagetoSamaswell,atleastinmyhead.Iwalkoutthedoor,andrightbeforeIenterthesubway,IclickSendandthenblockboththeirnumbersfrommyphone.It’sbetterthisway.
Justlikethat,it’salldone.I’mbacktobeingGracieReed,sad,joblessloser.Thirty-Five
Italmostfeelslikegettingfiredalloveragain,butwithmoreheartacheandinalesscomfortableenvironmentsinceIdecidedtogetanAirbnbforafewdays.Thankstotheirdetective’sdossier,SamandFangliknowwhereIlive.Idon’twanttotalktoeitherofthembecauseitwouldbetoopainfultohavetorecountwhatIsaidintheletterinperson.Acleanbreakisthebestbreakforbothbonesandrelationships.
It’snoXanadu,butit’scute,asmallsunnyapartmentinalow-riseontheothersideoftown.ThecentraldesignelementinthelivingroomisahardcouchthatIsitonforhours,staringatmyphone,halfexpectingandhalfdreadingwhatcouldhappenandrefreshingmybrowsereverythreeminutestoseeifI’vebeenpubliclyshamed.ThankGodmysocialmediaisunderthegeneric@gracie_graceTO,soIdon’tneedtoworryaboutthatgettingflooded.IcanwatchcatvideosinpeaceevenifIneedtogointohidingfromtheworld.
Forthetwentiethtime,IalmostchecktoseeifSamorFanglihaveshownupinmyvoicemailforblockedcallers.Itossthephoneaside.Thatexperienceisoverandwhethertheytrytocontactmeornotdoesn’tmatter.It’sdone.I’mdone.
Rectitude.IfI’dactedwithrectitude,Iwouldn’tbeinthispositionnow.Iwouldn’thaveathingtobeashamedabout.
IcallAnjaliandtellherIleftandthatZZTVcalled.Ileaveoutthepartabouteavesdropping.Thathurtstoomuchtotalkabout.
“I’msorry,Gracie.”Hervoiceisgentleandholdsnoneofthesmugnessshe’sentitledtoasaresultofbeingcorrectthatthiswouldendintears.She’sinVancouverforwork,butphysicaldistancehasnotpreventedherfromtakingontheroleofcheerleaderwithavengeance.
Anjaliletsmetalk,notinterruptingatall,whichissounlikeherthatIknowImustbeamorepitifulmessthanIthought.Finally,onceIpeterout,shesays,“Youhavetostopblamingyourself.Youhavenothingtobeashamedof.”
“Itwasdumb.Youtoldmethiswasadumbthingtodo.”
“Idid,”sheagrees.“Butyoukeepactinglikethisissomemoralfailureonyourpart.”
“Didn’tyouhearwhatIsaid?Abouttrickingpeople?”
“DoyouthinkFangliisethicallylacking?Thatshe’sabadperson?”
“No.”
“Thengiveyourselfthesameconsideration.”
“Isthislifecoachadvicefromthegooddays?”
“Sawitonanonlineadvicecolumnbutitremainsvalid.”
“Maybe.”Easiersaidthandone.
“Whatareyougoingtodonow?”
“WaitforZZTVtodragmynamethroughthemudandmovetoTierradelFuego?”
“It’scoldthere.Damp,too.”
“I’llbringacoat,”Isaymorosely.
Hersighgustsintothephone.“DoyouhaveaplanB?WhataboutEppy?”
“I’mworkingonit.”
“AreyouworkingonitorsittingonyourasscheckingyourphonetoseeifZZTVreleasedyourname?”
Ipause.“Thelatter.”
“Whenthisstarted,yousaidFangli’steamcouldhandleanyscandals.”
“Idid.”
“Nothinghashappenedyet.”
“Notyet.”
There’sabang,thenAnjali’svoicecomesbackon.“Thatwasmehittingthephoneinfrustration,”shesays.“Here’swhatyou’regoingtodo.”
DespitemyselfIgrin.Anjali’sbackinfightingform.“WhatamIgoingtodo?”
“I’mgoingtosetupaGooglealertforyournameandI’lltellyouifanythinghappens.You’regoingtoturnoffyourWi-FiandworkonEppy.”
“Imightneedtoresearchsomething.”
“Saveeverythingyouneedtosearchandsendittome.I’llcopyandpastethewebpages.”
“Thisisridiculous.Youdon’thavetimeforthis.”
“I’vebeenonthephonewithyouforanhour.TrustmethatIhavethefourminutestosetanalert.Plusit’sascientificfactImadeupthat98.9percentofinternetsearchesareonlymindlesssurfing.”
“Anjali…”
“Twodays.Tryfortwodays.Giveyourselfabreak,Gracie.Leaveyourphoneathome.Seeyourmom.Workonaprojectyoulove.Letmehelp.”
IliebackonthecouchandnodbeforeIremembershecan’tsee.“Thanks.”
“Nowturnoffyourdamnphoneandgetsomerest.”
***
Overthenexttwodays,Anjalitextsmeupdateseveryfewhoursthatonlysay“None”soIknowshe’scheckingforme.Itfeelsgoodtohaveheronmyside.IthinksheandFangliwouldhavelikedeachother.
It’snotsobadbeingmyselffull-timeagain.It’sarelieftonothavetobeapersonI’mnot,andIwasneverabletotakefulladvantageofthewineorfoodasFanglianyway.ImisstalkingwithFanglimorethanIexpectedandafewtimesfindmyselfthinkingofthingstotellherbeforeIrememberthatpartofmylifeisdone.
Ialso,becauseI’mabitmaterialistic,missthatexpensiveperfumecollection.Ileftitallthere,everylittlebottle,sotheycouldn’taccusemeofstealing.IevenleftthatgorgeousjumpsuitbutmostlybecauseitremindedmeofSam.
IrefusetothinkaboutSamatall.
It’sparticularlyhardatnight.IneverrealizedhowemptymylifehadbecomeuntilInolongerhadFangliandSamtheretotalkwithattheendoftheday.Finally,drivenbyaneedforhumanconnection,IheadtoCheri’scoffeeshop.Iwantafriendlyfaceifonlyforafewminutesofsurface-levelin-personconversation.
“Hey,babe,longtime.”CheriautomaticallystartsmakingalatteformebutIstopher.
“Justacoffeetoday.”
“Gotit.Whatyoubeenupto?”
“Ah,youknow.”Pretendingtobeamoviestar,fallinginlovewithanothermoviestar,worryingaboutworldwidehumiliation,asonewill.
“Right,right.”Sheglancesover.“Igotchocolate.”
“Doublechocolatescone.”
“Youcanhavethelastone.”Sheplucksitoutwiththetongsandhandsitover.“Loni’spreggersagainandcan’tstandthesmellofit,soherkid’sstuckeatingthelemonones.”
Wechataboutnothingforafewminutes,andasshe’sabouttohandmethecup,Cherisays,“Hey,somedudewasinlookingforyoudaybeforeyesterday.”
PleasenotZZTV.“Me,byname?”
“Yeah,superhotAsianguy.”Thenherdarkeyesnarrow.“Thereheisnow.Youneedtogoouttheback?”
Iturn.
It’sSam.
Cheri’svoicefadesoutbehindmeasmybodykicksintofight-or-flight,adrenalinemakingmyearshumandthemusclesinmystomachclenchsohardIalmosthunchover.Ididn’texpectthis.Samcamelookingforme.Why?
Helookstiredbutwhenoureyesmeet,hisshouldersdropslightly,asifinrelief.
“I’mgood,”ItellCheri.
Somethinginmyvoicemakeshereyebrowsrise.“Hey,Igotyourbackhere.Noonegetshassledinmyshop.”
“Thanks,Cheri.He’sa…”Ihesitate.“He’safriend.”
Myheartishighinmythroatandpartofmewantstotalktohimmorethananything.WithSam,Ifeltalive,complete.Toobadthatwasbasedonalie,too,andIdon’twantanymoreofthatinmylife.Ican’ttrustsomeonewhodoesn’ttrustme.
Samhasn’tmovedfromthedoorandIpointtoatableagainstthewall.Hejoinsmeafteraslighthesitation.
“Youleftwithoutsayinggoodbye.”Hespeaksevenbeforehesitsdown.“Youblockedmynumber.Ididn’tknowwhereyouwere,ifyouweresafe.”
Alittleglowlightsdeepdown.Samwasworriedaboutme.Hecared,eventhoughhethoughtIsoldthemout.
“HowdidyouknowIwashere?”ThefloweredplateclinksasIsetitonthetable.I’mtoonervoustoeatnow.
“Icheckedyourapartmentandyourmom’splace.ThiswaswhereMikeytookthephotosoIthoughtitwasworthashot.”
Theglowexpandsattheworkheputintofindingme.“IsentanemailtoFangli.”
“Fangliisnotme.Whydidyouleave?”
“ZZTVknowswhatIwasdoing.”Iadjustmyhat,thankfulIworeitinsteadofwalkingoutthedoorwithmybedheadonfulldisplay.AtleastIputonlipstick.
“Weknow.”Helooksstraightatme.“We’vetakencareofit.”
“IoverheardyouandFangli,”Isay.“YouthinkIwastheonetoleaktothereporters.”
Helooksastonished.“Ineversaidsuchathing.”
“Really?You’resuchafuckingactor.”Ipokeviciouslyatthescone.“YouneverthoughtIwasinitforthemoney?YouneverpointedoutthatIwasdoingitbecauseIlostmyjob?”
“ThatwasbeforeIknewyou.”Hehasn’tstoppedlookingatme.“Gracie,IpromiseItrustedyou.Iknowyouwouldn’thavedonesuchathing.”
Thatglowroarsback,heatingmefrommybones.
“IcametofindyoutohelpsmooththingsoverwithFangli.Yourletterhurther.”
Fangli.Fangliagain.Theglowdisappearsunderawaveofsheerdisappointment.Ithoughthewashereforme,finally,butevennow,he’sherfriendbeforemy…whateverwewere.Iwanthimtocareaboutmewiththesameopenness.Iwon’tcrybuttherestrainedtearsknotupinmythroatandmakeithardtobreathe.
Click.Click-click-click.Welookup,startled.Theflashescomethroughthewindowthankstothephotographer,Mikey,resplendentinhistrenchcoat.
Samswearsunderhisbreathbutrallieslightningfasttoslipintohispart.Hesmilesatme,thatsamelookhegavemeateverygalaandevent,thepracticedeasysmileofaleadingman.EnoughofmyFanglitrainingcomesthroughthatnowIcanatleaststayseatedinsteadofhidingunderthetable,butthere’snowayIcanlookhappy.Notrightnow.
Chericomesover,scowling.“Thisdudeagain?”Shestandsinthewindow,armsakimboandcallsoverhershoulder.“Outtheback.Sameasbefore.”
“Gracie,listen,”Samsays.“Weneedyoutocomeback.”
We.Nothim.AlwaysforFangli.Ithoughthewantedme,butthetruthisbareinfrontofme.Headmittedhetriedhardtofindmebutitwastogetmetobeherdoubleagain.Ican’tevenbeenviousthatsheholdssuchaplaceinhisheart.ThebellsonthedoorjangleandIabandonmysconetoheadforthebackdoor.IglancebehindmetoseeSamandCheriactingasiftopreventthephotographerfromfollowingme.
“Sorry,”Isay.
ThenI’moutthedoorandaloneinthealley.
Cheri’siswherethiswholemessbegan.It’sfittingthatitendsthere.Thirty-Six
Iwanderovertothefridgeandopenittorevealacollectionofcondimentsandnofood.Idon’twanttoeat,anyway;I’monlylookingforawaytodistractmyself.
It’sbeenthreedayssinceIsawSam.Truetoherwordtokeepmeinformed,AnjalisentmeMikey’sphotofromsomestupidgossiprag,andthewayit’sframedmakesSamappearinfullbodyguardheromodeprotectingFangli.“Fangli’shatlooksfamiliar,”Anjaliwrote.
ItlookslikeIcanbepulledbackintobeingFanglievenwhenItrytoavoidit.Ituckmyhandsbehindmyhead.WhatwouldamoralGraciehavedoneinthefirstplace?ShewouldhavesaidnotoFangli,evenforthemoney.Shewouldhavesquashedthatlittlefameworminhermindandtolditwe’dfindourownway.Todd…IactedasbestasIcouldhavethere,andIwon’tblamemyselfforhisactions.
ThenwhatdoesamoralandslightlymoredaringGraciedonow?Ilookatmylaptop,wheredespiteAnjali’snagging,Eppyhassatneglectedformostoftheweek.ThatGraciefollowsherdreamsandlistenstohergut.
ThephoneringsandmyheartleapsbeforeIrememberIblockedSam.It’sanunknownnumberbutIhavetoanswer.ItmightbearesponsetooneofmyjobapplicationsandIneedonenow,badly.Ipickup.
“Hello?”
“IsthisGracieReed?”Theman’svoiceisbrisk.
“Yes.”
“ThisisKenfromtheXinGuangnursinghome.I’mpleasedtotellyouwehaveaspaceopenforAgathaWuReed.Iknowyou’vebeenonthelistforawhile.”
Ihavetostopmyselffromwhippingthephoneatthewall.Ofcoursetheydo.AbeepcomesonthelineandIglanceatthescreen.
IncomingcallfromZZTV.Ididn’tblockthem.
Wepaywell.
“Wewouldneedanimmediatedeposittosavethespot,”Kensays.
Wepaywell.
“Howmuch?”
Hetellsmeandmyheartdrops.Icanpayitbutthere’snowayIcanmaketheongoingpayments,andIcan’tmoveMomthereonlytotakeherbackoutagain.“IsthereawayIcanpayininstallments?”Iask.
“I’msorry,”hesaysandhereallydoessoundapologetic.“Weofferpremiumcareforourresidents.”
Iknowtheydo,whichiswhyIwantMominthere.“Canyougivemesometime?”
“Wehaveastandardsix-hourgraceperiodbeforewegotothenextpersononthelist.”
Wepaywell.
Thistime,IactthewayIknowIshould.
ThephonescreenpulsesonelasttimeandZZTVfadesfromit.MomwouldkillmeifIwentintodebtforthis,andsixhoursisn’tlongenoughtogetaloan.IshouldhavethoughtofthatearlierandguiltpulsesthroughmybloodbutIletitfade.I’monlyhumanandI’mdoingmybest.
“I’mafraidIdon’thavethefeesrightnow,”Isayfinally.“I’mgoingtohavetopass.”
“Iunderstand,”hesays.“Wouldyouliketobeaddedbackontothewaitlist?”
“Please.”
WehangupandIliebackonthecouchwiththephoneclutchedagainstmychest.Rectitude.Irollthewordaroundinmymind.IthoughtdoingtherightthingwouldmakemefeelgoodbutinsteadI’mempty.Ididtherightthing—IsaidnotoZZTV—butwhodidIhelp?Notme.NotMom.MaybeFanglibynotsellinghersecrets.Shouldn’tIhaveadeepsatisfactionindoingtherightthing?
Idon’t,butasIliethere,quietlybreathing,somethinghappens.It’snothappiness,butit’snotguilt.There’snoshame.ThedecisionImadewasbasedonwhatIcoulddo—me,notdependingonanyoneelseorlying,nottryingtoeasesomeoneelse’swayattheexpenseofmyown.It’sasmallstart,butitisastart.
MomsaidIhadintegrity,andevenifIdon’t,Iwanttoliveuptoherideal.Icouldn’tgetherintothathomethistime,butIwillandI’lldoitonmyterms.
Ipullmylaptopcloseandstartworking.Thirty-Seven
Momsmilesoveratme.It’scoolforearlyAugustsoI’vetuckedablanketsheknittwentyyearsagoaroundherknees.Thezigzagorange-and-greenpatternhasn’tfadedsinceitwasfirstfoldedoverthecouchinouroldlivingroomtoDad’sthunderouscongratulatoryapplause.
AlthoughImovedbacktomyapartment,I’vemadeanefforttoworkfromherroomsinceIlefttheXanaduandmylifeofluxury,andIthinkit’sworkedoutwellforbothofus.Myproductivityhasbeenthroughtheroof—Eppynowhasanofficialwebsite—andIaskedAnjaliandacoupleofoldworkcolleaguestotestit.It’sarealthingintherealworldnow.Notwantingtoputallmyeggsintheentrepreneurialbasket,whichIguessisitselfnotveryentrepreneurial,IkeepapplyingforjobsandhaveaninterviewnextweekatasmallnonprofitagencydoinginterestingworkwithnewlyimmigratedCanadians.Babysteps.
KeepingbusystopsmefromthinkingaboutSam.IsawonagossipsitethataCanadianactortookonhisOperationOblivionrolebutthathe’sduebackinTorontofortheSeptemberfilmfestival,soIassumehe’sleftthecity.Knowinghe’sgoneleftmeconfusedbecausealthoughIdon’twanttotalktohim,Igatheredobscurecomfortknowinghewasonmysoil.IassumetheymadeadealwithZZTVbecausenothinghasappearedandmyfearhasdecreasedexponentially.Anjalihasmademepromisenottogooglemyselfandsendsmedailyiterationsof“no,”“nyet,”and“nopeitynopenope”toassuremeheralertshaven’tcaughtanything.
“Gracie,sweetie,willyougetmeaglassofwater?”MomholdsouthercupandItakeittothesink.Momhasbeentalkativethelastfewdaysandmovesfluidlybetweenthenowandthepast.Todayhasbeenamix.Sheremembersme,butsheplacesmeinheryouth.Rightnow,IamGraciebutIamalsowithherbackhomeinBeijing.
Ihandherthewaterandshesipsatitafewtimesbeforesettingitdown.“Bringmemyalbum.”
Thishasbeenhercomfortforthelastfewdaysaswell,soIfetchit.SheopensittoXiaoHeandherwaxyfingersstrokethepage.Imovetotheothersideofthebedtotidyhernightstand,andwhenIcheckonheraftergettingoutanewboxoftissuesandrinsingoutherwaterbottle,it’stofindMom’sfingersstilltappinggentlyonthepage.Isthisoneofthesymptomsthedoctortoldmetowatchfor?Hearthammering,Iwalkovertolookatthepage.
I’veneverlookedtoocloselyatthedetailsinthephotos,muchasyoudowithanythingthat’sfamiliar.Theoneshe’slookingatisofMomandXiaoHe,takenbeforeshecametoCanada.Thetwoarestandingnearasetofstairs,bothlookingatthecamerawithpassport-seriousexpressions.ButMom’sfingersaren’tconnectingwiththefaceofherbrother,asIwouldexpectgiventheamountshe’sbeentalkingabouthim.Insteadthey’retouchingonespecificspotonthepage—herabdomen.Whenherfingersmoveaway,Ileanforward,wonderingwhathasMom’sraptattention.
She’swearingacottonnavydresswithalittlerufflearoundthewideneck,cinchedinatthewaistandfallingtoherknees.Thewindispushingtheskirtbackabitandgivingherstomachastrange,almostroundedshadow.
Iwanttoexamineitfurtherbutsheturnsthepage.NowthephotoschangetoCanada.MominfrontoftheCNTower.MomwithfriendsatNiagaraFalls.ThenMomwithDad.There’saseriesofnow-pregnantMomrockingbangsinfrontofthosesamestandbys,theCNTowerandNiagaraFalls,apagelater.
Herfingersfallfromthepage,andItakethealbumoffherlaptoscrutinizetheearlierphoto.
That’snotashadowonherstomach.Isshepregnant?
IlooksocloseIalmostgocross-eyed.Holyshitballs,she’sdefinitelypregnant.Isuddenlyrealizethephoto’sbeentrimmed.XiaoHeistoMom’srightandthere’stheedgeofashouldertoherleft.TherewasenoughspacebetweenMomandwhoeveritwasthatitwasn’tobviousatfirstthattherewassomeonethere.
“Mom.”MyvoiceislouderthanIintendandherbrowneyesflyopen.
“Gracie?”ShefocusesonmeandIknowsheseesme,reallyme.
“Whataren’tyoutellingmeaboutXiaoHe?WhathappenedthatyoucametoCanada?”
“Hesaidtoleavethepastinthepast.Tolivemyfuture.”ShecloseshereyesandInearlyshoutinfrustration.Iletitbeandlookbackatthephotos.ThephotoofSamandFanglislipsoutagain.
Thistime,MomcatchesitwithaquicknessIwouldneverhavethoughthercapableof.“Shegrewsobeautiful.Iknewshewould.”Hervoicecracks.
“Her?Don’tyoumeanSam?”IthoughtshekeptitbecauseSamremindedherofherbrother.
“Fangli.Shedidn’tchangehername.Nordidhe.”
I’mconfusedbutknowI’mwalkingthroughaminefield.Iusemywordslikeastick,proddingforbombstofindasafepath.“Whywouldanyonechangehername?”Ikeepmyvoicesoftandsoothing,tryingtocoaxoutthestory.
“Herfatherwasfurious.Agoodbuthaughtyman,sosurehe’sright.That’swhymybrotherhelpedme.Iwantedthebaby.”
Ilookatthealbum.There’saphotoofamanandachildMomsaidwererelativeswhoownedafarmsheusedtogoto.IalwayslikeditbecausethegirllookedsomuchlikemethatIusedtopretenditwasmysister.Ihesitate,thengoforit.“Mom,areyousayingthisisWeiFangli?”
Hereyesfillwithtears.“Iknewherfatherwouldtakecareofher.ThenIlosttheotherbabywhenIarrivedaloneinCanada.Ihadnoone.Itwasmypunishment.Icouldn’tgohomebutIhadnothing.”
IlookatthealbumandthenbackatMom.Thenbackatthealbum,whichhassomehowbecomeimpossiblyweightyinmyhands.Theedgeofitdipsdangerously,andIcatchitrightbeforeittumblesoutofmynumbfingerstothefloor.
“Mom.”There’snowayIunderstoodhercorrectly.“ThisgirlisFangli?”
Shereachesoutandgrabsmyarmwithasurprisinglystronggrip.“Fangli.Yes.”
“Theactor.”Ipulloutthemagazinephoto.“Thiswomanhere.”Ijabitsohardthatthepagecrumplesundermyfinger.
“MyFangli.”
Isitthedementia?Itrytorememberwhatthedoctorshavetoldme.Theysaidshewouldbeconfused…butlikethis?Makingupadaughter?MomfumblesforthegoldchainaroundherneckthatI’veneverseenherwithout.Ontheenddanglesajadecoin,theemptycenterfilledwithgoldandinscribedwiththecharacterforlove.Herhandsshakeasshetriestotakeitoffherneckandshefinallygesturesmecloser,turningthependantsoIcanseethereverseside
IknowthosetinycharactersbecauseIpracticedthemuntilIcouldfakethematamoment’snotice.Fang.Li.
It’strue.MykneesweakenandIhalfsit,halfcollapseonthebed,thealbumthumpingagainstmythighsasIstareintoMom’sface,seeingthatconnectionbetweenthethreeofusintheslopeofhernoseandtheshapeofhereyes.Sheblinksandsmilesatmeuncertainlyandthat’sFangli’sexpression,rightthere.
Mymouthissodrythatittakesmetwotriestogetthewordsout.“Mom,it’sokay.”Itakeherhand.Myheartbreaksatwhatshe’senduredinsilencealltheseyears.Nowondershewassoadamantaboutonlylivingforthefuture.
Shesqueezesmyhands.“XiaoHesaidthesamething.HesaidIhadtothinkaboutwhatIwanted,thatrulesweren’ttheonlythinginlife.Myhusbandwantedthebaby,too,butwouldneveradmitit.NotwhenthePartysaidonechildwasenough.”
Ineedthefinalconfirmation.“Thiswasyourhusband?”
“WeiRong.Myfirst.Iwassoscaredhewouldfindme.ItwasbettershethoughtIwasdead.”
Alwaysstayundertheradar.Don’tcallattentiontoyourself.Temperyourexpectations.Mommusthaveusedallherdaringtotakethatstepintotheunknowntokeepherbaby.Ilookdowntoseemyhandshakingontheedgeofthealbum.Momisstaringoutthewindowagain,herfaceempty.
Thatphotofromthemagazine.I’dassumedshekeptitbecauseshethoughtSamresembledherbrother,butitwasforFangli.TheagitationatThePearlLotus;thatwasn’tfortheacting.There’snowayIcanignorethis.It’snotchancethatFangliandIlookalike—webothtakeafterourmother.We’rehalfsisters.
Ihaveasister.
Ihaveafamousmovie-starsisterwhothinksIdon’teverwanttoseeheragain.
***
Momeventuallygoestosleep,leavingmetodealwiththisinfobomb.
I’mnotdoingwellwithit.
Imanagedtowaitafewminutesaftertheinitialrevelationtopressformorebutshesimplystoppedtalkingandlookedoutthewindowwithtearstracingdownhercheeks.Iusedallmyself-controltonottakethealbumandquizheraboutthedetailsofeverypersoninitwhilesimultaneouslykickingmyselffornotshowingmoreinterestinmyfamilyhistorysooner.MomhadalwaysbeensoadamantaboutignoringthepastthatI’dsimplynotasked,asifitwastaboo.Iwanttodemandmoreinformation,Ineedmoredata,butIdon’thavethecouragetoforceherbackthroughmemoriesthatpainful.Irubmyshoulders,feelingtheangerandregretatwhatshe’dhiddendeepinmybones.
IthinkIunderstandthebasics.She’dbeenmarriedtoFangli’sfatherinChinaandtheyhadonechild,Fangli.Thenshegotpregnantagain,andalthoughtheybothwantedthebaby,theone-childpolicymadeitimpossible.AccordingtoFangli,herdadwasaPartyofficial,andevenifhewasn’t,aquickGooglesearchshowedenoughbenefitswouldbepulledfromurbandwellerswhohadasecondchildtomakeitunfeasible.
Momhadwantedthebaby,soherbrother,XiaoHe,hadhelpedherleaveherfamilyandcometoCanada.Obviouslyabigpartofthestorywasmissing,andIfeareditwouldnevergetfilledin.Oncehere,shehadamiscarriage,eventuallymetBradReed,andhadme.DidDadknowaboutthefirstmarriage?Thebaby?Herotherdaughter?IwanttoshakeherawakeandaskbutIrestrainmyself.Thisispartofmystorybutnotallofit.Imightnevergetallofit.
HowdoItellFangli?ThenIhesitate.Isitagoodideatosayanything?MaybeI’dbebettertokeepthesecretasquietasithasbeenforthelastthirtyyears.It’snotlikeFangliandImeantthatmuchtoeachother—sheneededsomeonetodoajobandIneededmoney.Atransactionalrelationshipatbest.
Right.Tellyourselfthat.IlikeFangli,andthoughIdon’tbelieveinfate,wewereverycomfortablewitheachother.Wefitasifourpheromonesmatched
Wefitlikesisters.
IturnonmylaptopandpressmythumbintothebruiseonmyheartbysearchingforimagesofSamandFangli.TherearepagesofthembutIcatchmybreathbecausethefirstoneisn’tofFangli.It’sme,attheChanelshow.Samistiltingtowardme,asmallsmileplayingonhisfaceandhiseyesfixedonme.Iclicktothepageandcheckthecomments.
ifsamlookedatmelikethat,mypantieswouldcombust
getyouamanwholooksatyoulikesamlooksatfangli
samliforever
sohot
thatluckyb
justmissingthelipbite
exhibitAinSamliinlove
Iclickthroughafewmoreimages.SomeareofusattheXanadu.There’sablurryshotfromthefirsttimewewentoutandIslipped,withSam’sarmaroundme.ThereIamgettingoutatthepremiere,Samholdinghishandouttotakemine.Thenontheredcarpet,SamastepaheadofmeandlookingbackwithadmirationasIposewithonelegdisplayed,myhandonmyhipandmyheadthrownback.
Ineachone,he’slookingatmeandonlyme.
I’maverygoodactor.
He’snotsmilingatme.He’ssmilingatthewomanwho’ssupposedtobeFangli.
Thisistoomuchtothinkaboutrightnow.IkeepwatchoverMomandworkonEppy.Momandworkaretheconstantsinmyliferightnow,andthat’swhatI’llfocuson.Thirty-Eight
“Ilovethisthing.”AnjaliandIareoutfordrinksandshehasEppyopeninfrontofher.“Iuseitforworkandeverything.Alltogether.Youneedanapp,though.”
“Iknow.”Rightnowit’sonlyavailableasawebversionthatIbuiltmyself,thankstoonlinetutorials.
“Itkeepsmesoontrack.DoyouknowhowmuchtimeI’vesavedthisweek?Sixhours.Six!Ibinge-watchedNetflixwithoutshame.”
Ibeamather.Eppyisgood.Iknowit.“Thanks.”
“Idon’tknowhowyoucameupwiththis.”Sheshakesherhead.“It’sthethingIdidn’tknowIneededbutIcan’tlivewithout.What’snext?”
“Ineedtosellit.Promoteit.Getthefundingfortheapp.”Ihaveabusinessplanandmylistofpeopletocall.RobinisrightonthetopbutIhaven’thadthecouragetomakethecall,notafterwhathappenedwithSam.NowthatI’veputitinmyDon’tThink,Docolumn—savedforthetasksthatyou’lldoanythingtoavoid—it’sgoingtohappen.
“You’retheMarieKondooftimemanagement,”Anjalisays.“Ialreadyhavepeopleatworkusingit.”
WegetnewdrinksandthenAnjalileansforward.“Spill.”
“What?”IemptyabouthalfmydrinkinasinglegulpandhaveacoughingfitthatAnjalisitsthroughwithanimpassiveface.
“SamYao.”It’sasoftnamewithsmooth,roundedsoundsbutsheenunciatesitcrisply.
“Whatabouthim?”
“That’swhatI’masking.Isawalotoffootageofyouguystogether.Youlookedgreat,bytheway.”
“Makeupandhair.”
Shesnorts.“Bull.Youglowedwheneveryoulookedathimandhe…Whew,girl.”Sheshakesherhead.“Thatmanwasintoyou.Idon’tknowwhyyoutwoareoverjustbecauseyoudidn’twanttobeFanglianymore.”
Itracecirclesonthetablewithmyfingertip.
“Gracie.”
“TheythoughtIcalledZZTV.”Isigh.“Ithoughttheydidanyway.That’sthemainreasonIleft.”
“Howdidyougetthatidea?”Hereyebrowspulldowntoapointbetweenhereyes.
“Ilistenedtotheirconversation.”IfillherinonwhatIoverheardandshesighs,thenlooksaroundthebarforamomentbeforelettinghergazerestonme.
“Didyouthink,possibly,anappwasn’tthemostauthoritativewaytogetatranslation?”
“Idonow,”Imutter.“Iwaswrong.Samsaidsowhenhecametofindme.”
“Hedidwhat?”
“OnlytogetmebacktohelpFangli.”
Compassionsoftensherface.“Thatsucks.”
“Yeah.”
Wesitinsilenceforamoment.“Areyousurethat’swhyhecameafteryou?”
“That’swhathesaid.Soyes.”
“Oristhatwhatyouexpectedtohear?Younevertrustedhisfeelings.”
“Idid.”Didn’tI?OrwasIalwaysnervous,asifIwasgettingplayed?ThattherewasnoreasonthatSamwouldbeinterestedinanobodylikeme?Doubt.Alwaysthatlittleseedofdoubtnomatterwhathedid.
“Idon’tthinkyoudid.Ithinkyouthinkhe’ssomebig-assmoviestarandyou’renot,sowhywouldhecareaboutyou.”
Igobrightredbecausehavingthesethoughtslaidoutisasembarrassingasbeingstrippedinpublic.“WhatifIdid?”
“God,havesomepride,woman.Lookatyou.You’resmartanddrivenenoughtocreateanewproductivityplanlikeyourunafuckingToyotamanufacturingline.Youmanagedtotricktheworldinthinkingyouwereamoviestar.You’reattractiveenoughthatitwasbelievable.”Shepauses,grippedbyfeministregret.“Notthatlooksareimportant.”
“Right.”
“Youdoubtyourselftoomuch,Gracie.”Shereachesoutacrossthetableandgrabsmyhands,whichstartlesmebecauseshe’snotabigtoucher.Nowshelooksintomyeyes.“Youneedtobelieveinyourself.”
Fanglisaidthesamething.Fangli,mysister.I’mburstingtotellAnjalibutitseemswrongtoshareFangli’sstorybeforesheknowsherself.ImusthavestartedanddeletedadozenemailstoFangli,eachoneamasterclassingracelessphrasing.
“Refill,ladies?”Theservercomesbyandthemomentisbroken,butI’malittleshaken.Whydon’tIbelieveinmyself?It’swhyIsayyesinsteadofno.WhyIlettheToddsoftheworldwalkoverme.
AllthosethingsAnjalisaidareright.Ididdothosethings.Itakecareofmymom.Idomybest.
Asifsheknowsshe’shitasorespot,AnjalibacksoffandwehaveafinalglassofwineandtalkabouthertriptoNewYorkandanewspawebothwanttotrybutdon’twanttospendthemoneyon.Whenweleave,Anjalisurprisesmeagainwithahug.“Callifyouneedme,”shesays.“You’renotgoingtobotherme.”
Igetonthesubwaywithherwordsinmyears.Idoworryaboutbotheringpeople.Iworryabouttakingtoomuchspace,toomuchtime,toomuchattention.MaybeIshouldn’t.Maybeit’spossibletotakeuptheperfectamount.
AGracie-sizedamount.
***
I’malittlehungoverthenextmorningbutaglassofwaterdoesthetrick.IcheckmyEppyandseeIhaveenoughtimetodozebeforeIstartmydaybutit’snotacomfortablerest.
Twochoiceslieinfrontofme.IcancontactSamandFangli,apologize,andexplainmysideofthestoryandheartheirs.OrIcanpretendthisentiremonthneverhappened.Ididn’tmeetFangliandSam.Ididn’tfindmysister.Ididn’tfallinlove.
HowcanIturnmybackonthat,evenifIriskgettinghurt?
IneedtothinksoIjumpoutofbed,grabmyheadwhenIrealizethehangoverisn’tcompletelygone,andthenthrowonmyclothesandsunscreenbeforesteelingmyselftoswimthroughtheheavysummerhumidity.Iswingopenthedoorandstopdead.
Meistandsthere.Shelooksthesameasalways,coolandcollected,herhairinaperfectcenterpartthatdoesn’tcowlicktothesideattherear.She’snotevensweating.
“Hi?”Istepback,asilentinvitationforhertocomeintothehouse.ShemustbehereonamissionfromFangli,andI’dprefertohavetheconversationintheair-conditionedlivingroomratherthanonmysteamingsteps.
Meifollowsmein,leavingherblackflatstidilyatthedoor.Hergazeflitsfromthemessofblanketsonthecouch,whereI’dbeennestingyesterday,tothehalf-emptycansofdietrootbeerscatteredonthefloor.Mylaptopisprecariouslybalancedontheedgeofthetable.
Shesitsontheyellowquiltedchair,agaragesalefindfromtwoyearsago,anddoesn’tsayadamnword.
Nowthatthesun’snotinmyeyes,Icanmakeoutafewmoredetails.Hershirtisabitwrinkledandhereyeslookswollen.“Isthereaproblem?”Iask,anxietyclimbingfastatthisunusualMeibehavior.“IsitFangli?”
“IwastheonewhocalledZZTV.”Hershouldersarestraightasshedeliversthisnews.
“Huh?”‘Notthemostarticulateresponsebuthonestly?It’sbeenahellofaweekforbombshells.
Mei’sdarkeyesmeetmine.“Youheardme.”
IsupposeIdid.“Fangliknows?Sam?”
Shelooksdown.“Yes.”
“YoucalledZZTV.”Iletthewordssettle.“Why?”Athinrushofangerstartstotracethroughmyveins.“Whythehellwouldyoudosuchathing?Didyouhateussomuch?”BecauseFangliwouldn’tcomeoutofthisundamaged.IshouldkickMeioutofmyhousebutherbodyfoldsinonitselfbeforeIcanact.
“I’msorry.”Hervoiceissofeathersoftitbarelyreachesmeacrosstheroom.
Icantellsheis,thatshe’ssorryforsomething,butIcan’ttellifit’sforwhatshedidorbecauseshegotcaught.“Butwhy?”Irepeat.
“I’msorry.Iwasn’tthinkingclearly.”
“Wasn’tthinkingclearlyaboutwhat?”
Shelooksmerightintheeye.“Iwantedyougone.”
Oh.NotwhatIexpected.Iknewsheneverlikedmebutthislevelofsabotageisbeyondthepale.“Gotyourwish,then.”ThatwassharperthanIwanted,andIdon’tlikethesatisfactionIgetfrommakingMeiwince.
Shedoesn’tsayanythingandagainI’mstuckintheroleofhavingtoforceconversationwiththiswoman.“HowdidFanglifindout?”AndSam,whotriedtotellmeinthecafébutIwastoostubbornandsadtolisten.
“Itoldher.”
Ihavegrudgingrespectforthat.“IthoughtitwasTodd.”
Sheshakesherhead.“HewentawayafterSamsenthimacopyofthedossierhehadthedetectivecollectonhisbehavior.Samalsowarnedhimthathewouldbewatchingtoseeifhetreatedotherwomenpoorly.”
Somegoodnewsatleast.ThefinalbitoftensionthathadsatundermyskinaboutToddloosens.Idon’thavetoworryabouthimanymore.He’sarepulsivelittlewormbutatleasthewon’tbetakinghisinadequaciesoutonotherwomen.
IsuddenlyseethatI’dstoodupwithoutnoticingandsitdownbecauseIneedallmyenergytoprocesswhatshe’ssaying.“Idon’tunderstandwhyyoudidthis.Whydidyouwantmegone?”
Meiissilent.Weneverhadacloserelationshipbutdon’tIdeserveareasonwhyshehatedme?Ithinkbackoverourinteractions.Ididmybesttobegoodtoworkwith,eventually.Itriedtobepoliteandfriendly.HadIoversteppedwhenIaskedherforhelp?
ThenIrememberthewaysheshutthedoorwhenshegavemetheumbrellaformydatewithSam.Whenshesawusholdinghands.Evenbeforethat,herface,watchingSamasheenteredaroom.Ishouldhaverecognizedit,becauseitwassoclosetohowminemusthavelooked.
DearGod,itwasn’tmeatall.ShewasinlovewithSam?It’sonthetipofmytonguetoaskherbutIfreeze.Despitewhatshe’sdone,thequestionistoointrusiveformetosayoutloudandit’stooegotisticaltoask,DidyoutrytowreckmylifebecauseyouthoughtIwasarivalforSam?
“WhatdidFanglisay?”Isayinstead.
Hereyesfillwithtears.“ShesaidsheunderstoodbutI’dhavetoleave.”
Makessense.“Didsheforgiveyou?”
Meinods.
Ofcourseshedid,damnhergenerousheart.IfFanglicanforgivethatkindofbetrayalfromsomeoneshetrusted,socanI.Deepdown,I’mtired.Idon’thavethestrengthtobeangryatMei.Ithappened.Ican’treversetimeandmakehernotpickupthephone.She’sgoingbacktoChinaandwe’llneverseeeachotheragain.Iwanttobefreeofallthenegativepartsofthisexperience,andtoppingthatlistisZZTVandallthingsZZTV-adjacent.
“Thankyou.Fortellingme.”Itakeabreath.“It’sfine.”It’snot,butsayingIforgiveyouissoponderous,likeacrimebossexcusingasubordinateconfessingamassivecock-up.
Meibowsherheadandstands,andIdoaswell.Nowthatshe’shadthepleasureofunburdeninghersins,Iwantheroutofmyhouse.IpityherbutIdon’twantheraroundmeincasesheaddsmoretomyemotionaldogpile.
She’sgonequicklyandIcollapseonthecouch,walkforgotten.
ItwasMei.ItextAnjali.
Anjali:I’minameetingbutissheinthegamesroomwiththedagger?
Me:nice.ShetoldZZTV.ItwasFangli’sassistant.IthinkshediditbecauseshewasinlovewithSam.
Anjali:Thatisseriouslymessedup.Toxic.Dudesaren’tworththatshit.
Me:Saidshewassorry.Cametomyhouse.
Anjali:Ohthattakesguts.What’syourmove.
Anjali:Noanswer?
Anjali:Radiosilencecoolcool.I’muptopresentatthismeetingandwhenI’mbackIwanttohearsomeEppy-levelplanning
Idon’treplybecauseI’vepulledovermycomputertolookatEppy.IhighlightCallFangliandtellheraboutMom.ThismighthavebeenoneofmyDon’tThink,DotasksbutI’vebeenThink,Don’tDoing.ThenIaddanother:TellSamImighthavejumpedtoconclusions.MychestclenchesattheideathattheSamshiphassailedandmyticketliesintattersonthepier.
EppyisagreatplannerbutIwishithadamoduleforhowtoapproachthiskindofemotionalobstaclecourse.
IpulloutmyphoneandmynewsfeedcomesonmyscreenbeforeIcantapforthetextingapp.IwanttogiveFanglitimetodecideherresponseandacallputsheronthespot.“Exclusiveweddingnews,”theheadlineblares.
FangliandSamsmileoutatthecamera.
IclickonthestorybeforeIcanhelpmyself,andit’swhattheheadlinepromises.ActorsWeiFangliandSamYaowillbemarriedbeforetheendoftheyear.Quotesfromsourcesabouthowthey’vebeeninlovesincedramaschoolpunctuatelongparagraphsaboutSam’sfilmroyaltylineage.Anotherphotofeaturesthetwoofthem,exceptit’smeinablackdresssmilingatSam,notFangli
MybodychillsasIstareatthephoto.Marriage?Itmakessense,Itellmyself.Lili’sinterferenceobviouslyonlyhastenedtheinevitable.Afterall,neitherofthemhadabsolutelyrejectedtheideaofgettingmarried,andSamhadseemedfatalisticabouthismother’splans.Obviouslythey’veknowneachotherforalongtimeandSamwoulddoanythingforFangliand…whatamessthisis.Icurluponthechair.WhatafuckingmessbutIcan’trunawayfromit.Despitethisupdateabouttheirrelationshipstatus,Ineedtocontactthem.
Don’tthink,do.
Igrabthenotepadandmoveovertothekitchentable.
Fangliisfirstandeasiestbecausetalkingtoherwasalwayscomfortable.Idecidethatevenwiththenewsaboutthemarriage,Ican’tkeepwhatI’velearnedaboutMomasecret.Shecandecidewhattodowiththeinformation,whethershewantstobelievemeornot.ThetextIsendtohernowunblockednumberissimpleandtothepoint—anapologyforleavingherandthatIknowthetruthaboutZZTVfromMei.ItellherImighthavesomeinformationabouthermother,ifshe’dliketoknow.ThatImissher.
I’mnotusuallythisopenwithfeelingsbutIwanttorestartontherightfootifshe’llletme.IdecidetonotmentionherengagementbecauseeverytimeIwriteitout,thesentencesoundspainfullypassive-aggressive.I’lldothatinpersonifshewantstomeet.
Ireadthisblockoftextoverabouttwelvetimesandthensendit.
Thesecondoneisharder,andIdecidetosendahellotocommitmyselfbeforeIgetintothenitty-gritty.
Hi,Sam.
Itbouncesback.
Istareatthemessageindisbelief.Notinservice?HereIam,abouttotakeanemotionalleapintotheunknown,andthenumberdoesn’twork.EvenifIhadbeententativebefore,nowI’mdesperatetogetSamthismessage,ifonlytogetitdonewith.
Idon’thavehisemail.DoI?IopenupmyemailtolookandfindaninterviewrequestfromtheSouthChinaMorningPost
AsI’mreadingit,thenotificationbardropsdowntoannounceamessagefromtheBBC.CNNAsiapopsupamomentlater.
They’renotaboutmyimpersonatingFangli.They’reaboutEppy.
Nowalmostfrantic,Igrabmylaptopandcheckmywebsiteandcheckitagain.Yesterday,mydownloadswereexactlytwenty-six.Nowit’sbeendownloadedovertwentythousandtimes.
Whatthehellhappened?
It’stoomuchformetotakeinandtimeslowstoacrawl.IneedtogetbacktothesepeoplebutwhatdoIsay?Isthisallabigaccident?Itmustbe.AgreatjokeonGracie.
Youdon’tbelieveinyourself.
Iopenmylaptopandreadtheemailscarefully.Theyallsaythesamething,thatSamYaoswearsbythismethodandit’snowatrendinChina.TheywanttotalktomeaboutmyphilosophyandwhatIwanttoachieve.TheywantmetowalkthroughwhyEppyisdifferent.
SampluggedEppy.Why?
Becauseitworksandit’sgood.Imightnotbelieveinmyselfyet,butIbelieveinEppy.
I’mnotreadybutIcandothis.
ThefirstthingIdoistrytofindwhatSam’ssaid.IttakessomediggingbutIeventuallyfindatweettranslatedfromWeibo,theChinesemicroblog.
NowayIcouldkeeporganizedwithoutEppy.Swearbyittokeepproductive.
Itlinkstomywebsite.That’sit,butIguesswhenyou’reSamYaowithmillionsoffollowers,that’senough.TheretweetsonTwitteraloneareoverfortythousand,andIhavetodosomebreathingpracticestokeepcalm.ThisiswhatIwanted,afterall.Ibelieveinthis.
Ijazz-handmyfingerstogetthemtostopshakingandemailtheSouthChinaMorningPosttosetupaninterview.ThentheBBCandCNNAsia.WhentheGuardianandBloombergrequestsrollin,Iacceptthose,too.
Theinterviewrequestsarriveallafternoon,andafterIdothefirsttwo,Inoticethequestionsaresimilar.IgetmorecomfortableeachtimeItalkabouthowEppyisdesignedtohelpyouorganizeyourwholelife,sincewe’reallbusyandmultifaceted.IgiveexamplesofsomeofmytasksandwhyIadditemsimmediatelybecauseIhavethememoryofagoldfish.WhentheyaskhowSamYaoheardaboutaplannerthat’sonlyinbeta,Ilaughandsaythey’llhavetoaskhimbutI’mgladitworksforhimanddomybesttonotletmyvoiceshake.
ThehardestaretheTVinterviewsbuttheproducersarekindandwalkmethroughwhattoexpect,sinceIsupposemefreezinginfeardoesn’tdothemanygoodeither.Inbetween,Icheckmydownloads.
Thenumberkeepstickingup.
It’salmostmidnightbythetimeI’mdone,andI’msowiredIpacemyapartmentincircles.Anjalisendsmeanemoji-ladentextwithalinktotheCNNinterview.Iknewyoucoulddoit,shesays.
Ididbutit’sallthankstoSam,whoIcan’tgetintouchwith.CanIemailhisagency?Agent?TherehastobeawaytocontacthimifFanglidoesn’tcall.
IgotobedexhaustedandmydreamsarefilledwithSamusingmyplanner.SecondsexiestnightI’veeverhad.Thirty-Nine
Ittakesmeacoupleofdaystocomedownfrommyinterviewhigh.ThedownloadsonEppykeepgoingup,andevenbetter,peoplelikeit.Theyreallylikeit.ItakecarefulnoteofthesuggestionsthatcomethroughontheTwitterfeedIhastilysetupandalreadyhavearoughversion2.0ready.IsendthelinktoAnjalitotest.
Anjali:Thatfast?
Me:MaybeIdidn’tsleep.
SheanswerswithaGIFofadisappointedDollyParton.
I’monthecouchdebatingthemeritsofhavinganapwhenthedoorbellrings.WasIexpectingadelivery?Ican’tremember,butIlikepackagessoIyawnandstumbleovertothedoortocheck.
Fanglistandsthere.
Ifreeze.ImighthavesentthattextbutI’mnotreadytotalktoherface-to-face.Ithoughtshe’dcallme.Ortextoremailback,butthatitwouldbeadistancecommunicationthatwouldgivemeenoughtimetoscriptoutmyresponseoratleastthink.
“Openthedoor,Gracie.”Sheclosesoneeyetopeerthroughthepeephole.“Icanhearyou.”
Ittakesmetwotriestoopenthedoorbecausemypalmissosweaty.
Thenwestareateachother.Fanglilookslike,well,shelookslikeme.Herhairispulledbackinaneat,lowponytailthatcomesoverhershoulder,andaballcapshadesherface,bareexceptforsomeglossonherlips.Shelooksabittiredandalotnervous.
“Yougotmymessage,”Isay.
Shewavestoherselfasiftosay,obviously
“Sorry.”Imoveaway.“Comein.”
LikeMeidid,shetakesoffhershoesandpadsbarefootintomyplace.Thenshesmiles.“It’snicehere,”shesays.“Homey.”
“Wouldyoulikeadrink?”
Shesnorts,adelicatesoundasiffromasmallanimal.“Iwouldliketoknowwhatinformationyouhaveaboutmymother.Andwhyyouleftmelikethat.Iwouldlikealotofthings,Gracie,soIthinkwecanskipthedrinkfornow.”
“Fair.”Itakeadeepbreath.“Givemeasecond.”
Igointomyroomandgrabtheduplicatephotoalbum.WhenIgetbacktothelivingroom,Fangli’ssittingstifflyonthecouch,kneespressedtogetherandhandsfoldedinherlap.Shelookssmallandabitscared,andIfeellikeanasshole.ImusthaveworriedherwiththatmessagewhenIwasdoingmybesttobesensitive.
Niceone,Gracie.
IopenthealbumtothephotoofFangliandWeiRong.Sheglancesdown,thenbringsthealbumcloserasiftoseebetter.“Thislookslikemyfather.Withyou?”
“No.Withyou.”
Sheflipsthepageasiftochecktoseeifthere’smoreinformationaboutthephotoontheotherside.“Whydoyouhaveaphotoofthetwoofus?”
AsgentlyasIcan,ItellherwhatIlearnedfromMom.HerescapefromChina,thesecretbabywhodied,thedesertedelderdaughterwhobecameaglobalsuperstar.
WholooksalmostidenticaltoheryoungerCanadianhalfsister.
“We’resisters?”sherepeats,handssplayedoverthephoto.
“Itlookslikeweare.”
FangliturnsthepagesuntilshegetstotheoneofMomandDad.“That’sher?”
“Yes,AgathaWuReed.HerChinesenameisWuMiaoling.”
“She’snotdead?Myfathersaidshewasdead.”
“Notdead,”Iassureher.“HerAlzheimer’smeansshedriftsinandoutsoitwashardtogetthewholestory.Imighthavemisunderstoodparts,andweshouldgetaDNAtesttoconfirmit.”
“Howsureareyouthatwe’resisters?”
Idon’thesitate.“Almostonehundredpercent.”
Fanglislamsthealbumshutandsetsitdownwithtremblinghands.Idon’tknowwhattosayorifIshouldreachout.IknowhowdifficultitwasformetounderstandandFangliiscopingnotonlywithanewsisterbutalivingmother.
Ishiftontheedgeofmyseat,silentforfearofsayingthewrongthingwhenFangliopensthebookagain.Sheanalyzeseverypage,hereyesfixedonthemotherwholefther.HerhandsrunupanddownthepagesandIwatchthem.IhaveDad’sbroaderhandsbutFangli’sarelikeMom’s,withlong,smoothfingers.SheevenwearstheclearpolishMomalwaysfavored.
“Tellmeagainwhatshesaid,”Fanglisays,flippinganotherpage.
Igothroughthestoryagain,rightfromMomthinkingSamwasherbrother.Shedoesn’tlookupfromthebookbutIcantellshe’slisteningtoeachword,testingitfortruth.
IfinishthestoryasFanglireachesthelastpage.Finallyshelooksup.Hereyesarebrightwithunshedtears.
“Sheleftme?”Hervoicebreaks.Thensherepeatsit,changesthetone.“Sheleftme.”
“I’msorry.”Thisisn’tatraumaIcanhelpwithbecauseIimagineitwoundsFanglitohercore.IcanonlysensetheedgesaroundmyownpainofallthethingsMomstolefrommewhenshedecidedtokeephersecret.Ialsocan’tfaultMomfortryingtodothebestshecould,butIwon’tblameFangliifshecan’tdothesame.She’sjustheardwhatmustbeoneofthemostpainfulrejectionsachildcanknow.NomatterhowmuchMommighthavelovedFangli,shechosetoleave.
Fanglistandsandthensitsagain.“Myfatherkeptthisfrommeaswell.”Herlaughismoreofabark.“Everyoneliedtome.”
“ShouldIhavetoldyou?”NowI’muncertainImadetherightdecision.
“Yes.”She’ssure.“Thisisn’tyourfault.”
“Iknow.IguessIfeel…”Ihesitate,tryingtonametheemotion.“Guilty?”
Sheputsthealbumdownonthecoffeetable.“Isthatdrinkofferon?”
“Fuck,yes.”Shefollowsmetothekitchen,whereIskipthebeerandwineandgrababottleofginfromthecupboard.Ipourustwoverygenerousdrinks,dumpinsomeiceandsoda,andwetossthemdownlikewater.
“Guilty.”Shesaysitslowly.“Why?”
IshrugbutwhenIgotopourmyselfanotherdrink,sheputsherhandonthebottle.“Later,”shesays.“Afterwetalk.”
She’sright.“IfeelbadIhadtimewithMomthatyoudidn’t.”
Whenshelaughsthistime,itsoundsmorelikeFangli.“Notmuchyoucoulddoaboutthat.”
“I’mmadather,too,”Iburstout.“I’mmadandIcan’tbebecauseIknowshetriedandshe’ssickandwhatshedidtomeisnothingtowhatshedidtoyouandIdon’tunderstandwhynoonetoldmeand—”
Mybigsisterstepsforwardtoenfoldmeinatighthug.Iclutchontoher,feelingherwarmthundermyhandsasshesimplyletsmebesafeinherarms.Aswestandthere,Ifeelhershakeandsheexhales,thinandunsteady.
“It’sokay,”Itellherandfeelhernodhardagainstme.“We’llbegood.”
“Right,”shesays,layingherheadonmyshoulder.“Fine.”
Whenweuntangle,welookateachother.Fangli’samess,witharednoseandswolleneyesandcreasesalonghercheekfrompressingintotheseamofmyshirt.IassumeIlookasbad.Thistime,shedoesn’tstopmefrompouringanothershotandedgesherglassforwardwhenitlookslikeI’mgoingtostoppouring.
“Youdon’tdrink,”Irememberwhensherefusesmoreice.“IwasneverallowedtodrinkwinewhenIwasoutasyou.”
Shetakesasip.“Becauseit’stoohardtocontrolmywordswhenIdrink.Nofilter.This,however,isaspecialoccasionandatimeforhonestyifI’veeverseenone.”
Wegobacktothelivingroom.Nowthatwe’vereachedthefirstbasecamponMountReconciliation,I’mnotsureifIneedabreakorwanttopoweron.
Fanglipacesaroundmyspace.“IhavesomuchtosayandIdon’tknowwheretostart.”Shesitsdownanddrainsherglassbeforeclinkingitdownonthetable.“No.I’mgoingtosayit.NexttopicisSam.”
We’reclimbingagain.
“Right.”Iholdupmyhand.“Ineedto…”Congratulateyouonyourengagement.Ican’tgetthewordsout.
“Didyouseetheannouncement?Thatwe’regettingmarried?”
“Idid.Congratulations.”There,Imanageditwithasmile.
“Alie,”shesaysvehemently.“ThatsnakeLuLilitoldthatstory.”
Myeyesgowide.“What?”
“Samisn’tinlovewithme,norIhim.Wearefriendsonly.”Shenarrowshereyes.“Youknewthat.Hemadeitclearenough.”
Iavoidthat.“Whywouldshesaythat?”
“Samwenthomeandtoldhertostayoutofhislife.”Shesmilesproudly.“He’sneverdonethatbefore.Liliisapowerandhefinallyhaditoutwithher.”
“Thenwheredidtheannouncementcomefrom?”
“Lilitriedtoforcehishand.Samwasfurious,aswasmyfather.Sheoverstepped.”
Ithumpbackintothechair.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“SaywebrokeitoffandhopeitplayswellforSam’smovierelease.”Sheadjustshersleeves.“WehavetoletLilisavesomeface,butthisisenoughforhertoknowherlimits.Atleasttherewasagoldliningbecauseshe’llnevertrytodothatagain.Samfeelsfree.”
“Doyoumeansilverlining?”
Shelaughs.“Gold.LuLiliwouldhavenothinglessthanthebest.”
Toknowthey’renotengagedbuoysmeupandIcan’tstopgrinning,eventhoughitdoesn’tmeananythingforSamandme.“AboutSam…”Idon’tknowhowtofinishthesentence.
“I’veneverseenhimmoremiserable,”Fanglisays.“It’shardforhimtoconnectwithpeople.”
“Sam?”Iraisemyeyebrows.
“Hismotherisamonster,asyouknow.Shekepthimondisplayandhegrewupquitethelittleemperor,pettedandspoiled.Sheseeshimasanextensionofherselfandsometimeshedoes,too.”
“Hetoldmeabouther.”
“It’shardforhimtotrustthatpeoplelikehimforhimself,notforhisfamilyorhismoney.Orhislooks.”
Itakeadeepbreath.“Ineverknewifhewaswithmeoryou.Whetherhe’dprefertobewithyou.”That’shardtosay.
“Wearefriends.”Sheclapsherhandsforemphasis.“Long-timefriendswholoveeachother,butwhatIhavewithSamisn’twhatyouhavewithhim.Ineversawhimsorelaxedaswithyou.Youbroughtoutthebestofhim.ItwaslikebeingwiththeoldSam,theonewhousedtolaughwithmeandChen.”Herexpressionlookswistful.
Irunmyfingeraroundtheedgeofmyglass.“Iscreweditallup.”
“Hetoldmehetriedtotalktoyou.”
“Ioverheardyouspeakingandthoughtitwasaboutme.”Itellheraboutthetranslator,andherfaceisanexactreplicaofthemixeddisbeliefandpityAnjalihaddisplayed.“Meicameandapologized.”
“WeknewassoonasZZTVcalledwhotheleakwas.”Herexpressionisgrim.“Icouldn’tseewhatwasinfrontofme.Ididn’tknowshehadfeelingsforSamandwhatshewoulddo.Shewantedhim.Youwereintheway.”
Ishakemyhead.“Unbelievable.”
“Itrustedher,”saysFangli,hervoicebreathy.Thensheshakesherhead.“Shefeltterribleafter.Shesaiditwaslikebeinginafog.Ihadtolethergo,butwedidn’tpresscharges.”
I’mglad.Meiwasn’tafriend,butIunderstandtheregretofbaddecisions.“Ididn’tseethestory.”
“Meitoldthemitwasalie.Theydecidednottorunwithitbecausetheycouldn’tcorroborateandwethreatenedtosue.Shesaiditwastheleastshecoulddo.”
PoorMei,eventhoughshecouldhavecausedmuchdamage.
Fangligrimaces.“Mymanagerwasfurious,rightfullyso,butonceIexplained,itwasbetter.”
“That’sgood.”
“Hehadn’trealizedhowbadthingshadbecomeforme.He’slisteningnow.”Shesmiles.“AnotherthingIhavetothankyoufor.”
“Thankme?”
Fanglipausestolookatmecarefully.“Doyounotknow?”
“Knowwhat?”Icanseemyexpressionreflectedinhers,pursedlips,tiltedhead.
“Gracie.Youchangedmylife.”Shesaysitsosimply,likeit’safact.“Iwasexhaustedandyoubroughtmerest.Confusedandyoubroughthelp.NowyoubringmeamotherIthoughtwasdead?AsisterIneverknewIhad?Howcanthatnotchangeme?”
“Wehaveeachother.”WhenIsaythewords,it’sarevelation.IthoughtwhenMomdied,Iwouldbealone.
IhaveFangli.
ShesmilesasifsheknowswhatI’mthinkingandsays,“Wehaveeachother.”
“Wedo,”Isay.Wow.Imean,wow.“Whatdoesthismean?”
Thismakesherlaughandit’stonedwithdelightedexcitement.“Idon’tknow.Ineverhadasister.Ithinkwe’llfightandmakeupanddosheetmaskswitheachother.IseethathappeninAmericanmovies.”Shecomesoverandgivesmeaspine-crackinghug.Forasmallwoman,she’sstrong.
“Thisisalotforyou,”Isay.
“Ineedtotalkaboutthiswithmytherapist.”Fangliseesmylookandgoesred.“It’shardtosaythat.”
“Youshouldbeproudyou’rehelpingyourself,”Isaygently.
“Ican’ttalkaboutitathome,notyet.Ican’thelpothers.Iwill,oneday.”
“Firstgetyourselfinorder.”
“I’mtrying.”Shehesitates.“Aboutourmother.ShouldIvisit?”
“Shemightnotrecognizeyou.Iknowshethinksofyou.”Ismile.“Shealwayswearsapendant.Yournameisengravedonit.”
Fanglisqueezeshereyesshutforamoment.“Isshewelltreated?”
“IhatethehomeMom’sin.IwanttogetherintotheChinesehomewithprivatecare.”IsayitwithoutthinkingbutrealizewhatI’velaidonFangliwhenitcomesoutofmymouth.“Imean,it’sgoodenough,”Ihastentoclarify.“She’ssafe.”
“Safeisn’thappy.We’llgetherin.I’llhavemymanagermakesomecallsandIcanpay.”
I’mtoogratefultoargue.“Thankyou.”
“She’smymother,too,althoughIhavealotoffeelings.Ineedtoprocesswhattodo.”
“Whenyoudecide,Icanbringyoutoher.Ifyouwant.Onlyifyouwant.”
“Doyouthinkshewantsit?”Herlidsfluttertokeepbackthetears.
“Yes.”Idon’telaborateorexplain.Idon’twanttopressureFanglibutsheneedstoknowthatMomwantsher.
Fanglicurlsinaball.“Ineedtothink.”
“Iknow.”
“It’stoomuch.”Shelooksapologetic.
“She’sstable,”Isay.“Nothing’surgent.”
Thatseemstoreassureherbecausesheliftsherchinandthengivesmeheroldsmallsmile.“Ishouldgo.Ineedsometimebeforetheshowtonight.I’llseeyousoon?Promise?”
HereagernesssetsasideanyanxietyIhadthatI’llbeintrudingonherlife.“Yes,soon.”
“Ican’tconvinceyoutobemydoubleforaveryboringpartytomorrow?”sheteases.
“Notachanceinhell.”
Shetucksherhandsbetweenherknees.“I’msorryImadeyoudothatwhenyouweren’tcomfortablewithit.Ishouldn’tjoke.”
“IdiditbecauseIwantedto,”Itellher.“IstoppedwhenIhadto.Itwasmychoice.”ItwasmydecisionandIknownowthere’smorepowerinowningmyowndecisionsthanpretendingIhadnoalternative.
“BeforeIforget.”ShesendsmeatextandIcheckmyphone.
“Didyouchangeyournumber?”
“No.”Shestandsup.“It’sSam’s.”
Sam.Ilookatthedauntinggraytextbubble.“Doyouthinkhewantstotalktome?WhatdoIsay?”
She’salreadyinthehallandlooksatmeoverhershoulderintheposeI’vealsomastered.“Ithinkthegloballytrendingcreatorofthehottestplannerontheplanetcanfigureitout.”Shewinks.“Goodluck,Sister.”Forty
Fangli’sfaithinmeissorelymisplacedbecauseittakesmetwodaystotextSam.PartofitisthatIkeephopinghe’lltextme.Imean,inamovie,Igivethehinttohisfriend,hisfriendtellshim,andhegetsintouchwithme.ButSamdoesn’t.
Whodoescall,literallyasI’mpickingupthebusinesscardtoactonthefirstofmyDon’tThink,Dotasks(Sambeingthesecond),isRobinBanerjee’sexecutiveassistant,whoinvitesmetohisofficetotalkaboutfunding.
“HeknowsaboutEppy?”
“Suredoes.”Marcus,theexecutiveassistant,laughs.“Everyoneattheofficehasbeenusingit.Ifinallygotthethank-younotesformyweddinginthemailbecauseofEppy.Weweremarriedeightmonthsago.”
Ibeamatthephoneaswesortouttheappointmenttime,andwhenIdisconnect,Ihugthephonetomychestanddanceanuncoordinatedjig.
RobinBanerjeewantstoknowmoreaboutEppy.Heaskedme
Nervestakeoverbutthistime,I’mnotalone.FangliandAnjaliareboththeretocoachmethrough.Icheckthroughthesimultaneoustextconversationsandfeelmycouragegrow.
Anjali:You’redoinghimafavorbymeeting.It’spopularandheknowsmorepeoplewillbeafteryou.
Fangli:Imetwithmyfuturist.She’susingEppy.Thisisawinnerandyoudidit.
Anjali:DothatthingwhereyouliftupyourarmsRocky-styletobuildphysicalconfidencebeforeyougoinifyouneedit.SawitonaTEDTalk.
Fangli:Ibelieveinyou.
Anjali:[RockymontageGIF]
Anhourbeforethemeeting,Iputonagreendress,paintmylipsoxblood,andtellmymirrorreflectionYougotthisuntilIfeelitinmyverytremblybones.
ThenIgathermylaptopandmynotes,andIgoinreadytoimpressRobinBanerjeeenoughtogetthemoneyIneedformyapp.It’snotafavor,Iremindmyself.Theinvestmentwillmakebothofussuccessful.Eppyisvaluable.
Theofficeisinanindustrialpartofthecitythat’sbeentakenoverbytechstart-upsandcircusartsschools.MarcusgreetsmewithasmileandsetsmeupwithwaterinRobin’soffice,whichiswalledwithwhiteboardsandlitteredwithRubik’scubesandbuildingblocks.Ajaroftall,pinkhollyhocksprovidesaspotofcolor.
Idon’tevenwaitaminutebeforeRobincomesin.Hegivesmeawarmsmileandawave.
“SawthetweetfromSamYaoandgaveEppyago,”hesaysbywayofintroduction.Robinismyheightandbaldandhasasmilethatcovershisface.UnlikethesuitattheChanelparty,todayhe’swearingablackhoodieandcargopantsandhugegleamingbasketballshoesyouwouldneverweartoplayanysport.“Goodstuff.Ilikeyourstory.”
Hegesturesmetotheleatherchairandsitsonthecouch.Becausehisofficeisinareclaimedwarehouse,theonlyviewisthewornbrickofanotherwarehouse.“Tellmeyourplans.”
I’vepreppedthis—AnjalisuggestedItreatthislikeajobinterviewsoIspentthreehourscreatingsmartanswerstoeveryquestionhemighthave—andI’mready.
Itellhimmygoals:theapp,theanalogplanners,theeventualcommunityofpeoplehelpingeachotherreachtheirgoalsbyprovidingtipsandencouragement.Helistensanddoesn’tinterruptmeonce.Ipulloutmybusinessplanandhepagesthrough,askingquestionsIhavereadyanswersforandafewthatmakemethink.
“Soundsgood,”hesayswhenIfinish.“Iwantin.”
Thenhenamesanamountofmoneythatshortsoutmybrainandgivesmethecontactsofpeoplewhocanhelp,includinganappdeveloperwhowasonmyshortlist.Hislawyerwillbeintouch.
WhenIgetoutside,myteethchatterinstress-citement.It’sallhappeningsofastthatIcan’ttakeitin.IsendAnjaliaquicktextandgetablastofemojisbackandapromisethatsheneedsthewholestoryonceshe’soutofhermeeting.Fanglisendsavideoofherblowingakiss.
SamsendsnothingbecauseI’mtoogutlesstocontacthim.
Icheckmywebsite—downloadsslowingbutgoingstrong.IemailallthecontactsRobingaveme,rightthereonthestreet.ThenIstandthere,filledwithrestlessenergy.IwanttoyellintoaforestanddancearoundafountainuntilIexhaustmyself.
Mom.I’llgoseeMomandtellherwhat’sgoingon.Thatwillsootheme.
There’sabuscomingandwithinthehour,IsigninatGlenLake.WhenIgettoMom’sroom,Istop.She’sspeakingtosomeoneinasoftvoicesoIdecidetogivethemamomenttofinish;itmustbeoneoftheaidesoranurse.
AsIstareattheframedpictureofthesweetwhitekitten,Ipulloutmyphone.Ihaven’tbeenabletogetSamoutofmymindandIcan’tputitoffanylonger.ThisismytrueDon’tThink,Dotask.IsendthetexttothenumberFangligavemeandIdoitfast,beforeIcanthinkaboutitanymore.Thesamemessageasbefore.
Hi,Sam.
ApingcomesfrominsideMom’sroom.Forty-One
What?Istareatmyphone,thenatthedoor.WhenIreachouttoopenit,Inoteclinicallythatmyfingersaretrembling.
Samissittingnexttomymother,holdingherhands.Theybothlookupatme,twinexpressionsofsurpriseontheirfaces.
“Sam?”
Thisisweird.ThisisveryweirdbecauseSamissupposedtobeinChinadoingmovie-starthings,nothereinmymom’slong-termcarehome,dressedinjeansandawhiteshirt.
IwanttorushacrosstheroombutmyfeetstepbackwardintothehallasIfrownatthem.Whyishehere,alonewithMom?
Sam’seyestrackmyprogress,andhemustthinkI’mabouttomakearunforitbecausehegivesMom’shandsasqueezebeforecrossingtheroomtostandinfrontofme.“Gracie.”
Idon’tknowwhattosay.Idon’tevenknowwheretolookbecauseIcan’tfocusthroughmynewlyblurryeyes.Shit.I’mcrying.Samreachesouttorunhisthumbacrossmycheekbone,andwhenIdon’tmove,hecomesinabitcloser
“I’msorry,”Iwhisper.Heducksdowntohearme.“Sam,I’msosorry.”
“Why?”Samlooksastonished.“Ishouldapologizetoyou.IgaveupafteryouleftinthecafébecauseI’mastubbornfool.”
“Idon’tthinkIwasinamoodtolisten.”
“MaybenotbutIshouldhavetriedharder.”
ThisisnotaproductivediscussionsoIturntothemoresalientpoint.“Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’rehere.Inmymom’sroom?”
Hetakessuchadeepbreaththatitwhooshesoutwhenheexhalesandhecloseshiseyes.
“Sam?”Idon’tknowhowmanymorebutterflieswillfitinmychestbeforetheyburstoutAlien-style.
“Jiayou,”hewhispers,openinghiseyes.“Comeon,Sam.Youcandoit.”
“What?”
Samtakesmyfaceinhishandsandsilencesmewithakissthattravelsdowntomytoes.“IthinkI’mfallinginlovewithyou,”hesaysinarush.“No,IknowIam.Ishouldhavetoldyousooner.”
Ifeelthebloodrushtomyfaceunderhistouch.
“I’mherebecauseImissedyou.Ineededtoseeyou.”Herunshishandsdownmyarms.“Fanglitoldmeabouthervisitandthatyouhadmynumberbutyounevercalled.Icouldn’tstandit.IthoughtImightseeyouhere,totalkinperson.”
“Here?”Iecho.
“Iwantedtoseeyourmotheraswell.Ican’tbeherbrother,butIcanbeafriend.”
Mom’svoicecallsoutfrombehindhim.“Sammyknowsmyoldneighborhood.Heremembersthenoodlehouse.”MomwatchesuswithhugeeyesandagrinthatsaysmaybesheunderstandswhatSamistome.
Samwrapshisarmsaroundme.“It’sthebestIcandoforher.”
“Thankyou.”AllIdoisthankhim.
“Maybeyoutwoshouldgoandtalk.”Anothervoicecomesfromthecorridor.It’sFangli,wearingadeterminedexpressionandholdingabouquetofdaylilies.
“Fangli?”
ShelooksovermyshouldertoMom.“ItalkedtoDadtoday.Justnow.”Hervoicewavers.“It’strue,whatyousaid.Hewon’ttellmethewholestorybutIdon’twanttoloseanymoretimewithmymother.”
“Iunderstand.”
“IshouldhavetoldyoubeforeIcamebut…”Hervoicetrailsoff.“Iwasn’tthinking.”
Igiveherahug.“She’syourmother,too.”
Momhasalreadyrisenoutofherchair,herarmsoutstretchedandherfacealight.Bothofusgoandembraceher.“Youlooklikemylittlegirl,”shewhispers.ThenshebeginstospeakinMandarin.Thankstomyapp,I’mgettingbetterbutSamhastotranslatebecausealthoughFangliopenshermouth,nowordscomeout.
“ShethinksFanglisimplylookslikeherdaughter,”hewhispers.“Shedoesn’tknow.”
Evenashespeaks,Mom’sexpressionchangesandsheopenshereyeswide,hergazeflutteringbetweenmeandFangli.“Mygirl?”shewhispers.
“It’sme,”Fangliwhispers.“Me.”
Momlooksatme,andIgiveFangliahug.“It’sher,Mom.Wefoundeachother,”Isay.“Andnowshe’sfoundyou.”
“Mybaby.”Mom’sshaking,gropingatherneckforherpendant,whichsheclutchesinherhand.“I’msorry,mybaby.Qingyuanliangwo.”
“Forgiveme,”Sammurmursinmyear.
Mynewsisterdoesn’ttakeherhungryeyesoffourmother.“Please,letmehavesometimealonewithher,”Fanglisays.MomlookshappysoIonlyhesitateforamoment.Samtugsmyhandtoleadmeoutintothehallwayandthenoutside.
“Idon’twanttogotoofar,”Isay.Notwithmyfamilythere.
“Wecanstayrighthere.”Hebringsmetoasmall,emptyplaygroundtothesideofthehome,aplaceforvisitinggrandchildrentoplay.
NowthatI’mwithhim,Idon’tknowwhattosay.Hesavesme.
“IneverthoughtitwasyouwhocalledZZTV,”hesays.
“Iknownow.”Irubmycheek.Sammanagedtotellmeabouthisfeelings.Icanbeasbrave.“Iwashurtyouthoughtitwasme,eventhoughitwasonlyinmyhead.”
“I’msorry.”SamsitsdownonthebottomofthewideslideandIjoinhim.“IknewhowIfeltaboutyouwasdifferent,butInevermadeitclearenough.”
“IneverknewwhereIstoodwithyou,whetheryouwereactingornot.”
“TellmewhatIcandotomakeyoutrustme.I’lldoit.”
Ibumpmyheadintohisshoulders.“Youalreadydidwhenyoucameheretoday.”
Hewrapshisarmsaroundme.“Imissedyou.Missedtalkingtoyou.”Herunsafingerovermylowerlip.“Missedkissingyou.”Asmallkissdropsonmytemple.
“It’sbeenawhile.”
“Seventeendays,”hesayspromptly,thengoesredwhenIlookathim.“Imean,aboutthat.”
“Giveortake?”
“Iwascountingeachday.Sueme.”Anotherkiss,thistimeonmyhair.
“YouweresupposedtobeinChina.”
“Iwenttotalktomymother.”
“Fanglimentionedit.”
Heleansagainstme.“Itwasquitetheeventand,asyouknow,culminatedwithhertellingthemediaIwasmarryingFangli.”
Iknowit’snottruebutthememoryofthefeelingsIhadwhenIthoughtitwasremainandtheysting.
Hetwistsaroundtolookatme.“We’renot.IloveFangli,butasoneofmytruestfriends.”
“Iknow,”Iassurehim.AlthoughFanglitoldmethesamething,hearingitfromSamhitsdeeperandreleasesthelastbitofdoubtIdidn’tknowIhad.
Wesitinsilenceforamoment,watchingasagraysquirrelrunsby,fluffytailundulating.“Cute,”hemurmurs.
Itis,especiallywhenitstopstolookatus,butI’mnotheretoadmiretreerodents.“Howareyoudoing?”Iask
“Good,”hesayswithsomesurprise.“Itwas…frightening.”Hegoesred.“Astupidthingtosay.”
“No,Igetit.”Idid,too.LiliisnoTodd,buttherecanbepeopleinourliveswhotakeonmoreofapresenceandinfluencethantheydeserve.“Howisshenow?”
“Shewon’tspeakwithme,butmyfatheragreedwithme.She’sfuriousatusboth.”Hisdimplesshowinawrysmile.“She’llunderstandoneday.Ihope.”
Ituckmyselfunderhisarm.“Youdidgood.”
“NotasgoodasyouwithEppy.”
“Thankstoyou.”
Heshrugs.“Noonewouldhavecaredifitdidn’twork.Itdoes.Youweregreatontheinterviews.”
“Yousawthem?”
“Ofcourse.InpartbecauseIcouldn’tmissthem.Youwereeverywhere.”
Igrin.“Iknow.”Theregoeskeepingundertheradarandnottakingrisks.“RobinBanerjeecalled.Idon’thavetofindajob.IcanworkonEppybecausehe’sfundingme.”
Samwhoops.“Iknewhewould.That’smyGracie.”
HisGracie.IprobablylikethesoundofthatmorethanIshould.
“You’llbebusier.”Herunshishandovermyhair.
“You’reonetotalk,”Ipointout.“Don’tyouleavetoshootamoviesoon?”
“Yeah.”Hecoughs.“Hey.DoyouthinkyoucanaddonemoretaskintoyourEppylist?”
“Likewhat?”
“Arelationship?I’mthinkinginthelong-termplanssection.”
Ilookathim.
“Iwanttogiveusachance,”hesays.“SamandGracie.”
“You’reamoviestar.”
“Suream.”
“Surroundedbybeautifulpeople.”
“LikethewomanI’mwithnow.ShouldIpointoutyou’reaCEO,surroundedbybrilliantpeople?”Heshrugs.“Itrustyou,Gracie.Doyoutrustme?TrustthatwhatIfeelforyouisreal?”
Hepullsbackcompletelylikehedoesn’twanttoswaymyanswer.IgrabhimbecauseIknow.“Itrustyou.”
“Plus,Ilikethatyou’reaCEO.”Hepuffsouthischest.“Agoodegoboostforme.”Hecatchesmyeyes.“Don’tsayit,”hewarns.
“Notlikeyouneedit.”
“Yousaidit.”Heshakeshishead.
Iwantthis.HischestispressedagainstmeandIcanfeelhisheartpoundagainstmyskin.It’sfast.
Despitethelighttone,he’snervous,too.
Itakeachance.“IthinkIwanttotry.Youandme.Let’sdoit.”
“Aringingendorsement.”Heleansin.“I’lltakewhatIcangetfromyou.”
MylipscapturehisandIfeelhimsmileagainstmymouth.
Hepullsback.“I’msogladyouwalkedintothatcoffeeshop.”
“Me,too,eventhoughthatmuffinwasterrible.”
Helaughsandstrokesmyhair.Thistime,whenhekissesme,Iknowit’sabsolutelyallforme.
THEENDReadingGroupGuide
1.Gracieisbiracialandattimesstruggleswithotherpeople’sperceptionofwhatthatmeans.Whatpreconceptionsdoyouthinkyouhaveaboutbiracialidentity,orwhatdoyouseeinthemedia?Howdoyoureactwhenpeoplediscussexperiencesthatmaynotbefamiliartoyou?
2.Theauthorisalsobiracial.Howmuchofanauthor’sexperiencedoyouthinkisincorporatedintoabook?Wouldyoufeeldifferentaboutabookiftheauthoriswritingaboutanexperiencetheyhavenothadfirst-hand?
3.Graciehasaparticularfondnessforlistsandorganizationalmethods.Isthissomethingyoufindusefulinyourownlife?WhichofthevariousmethodsGracieexploreswouldyoumostbeinterestedintrying?
4.GracieandSam’smothershavedifferentphilosophicalapproachestolife:onecautiousandoneassertive.HowhasthisimpactedGracieandSam?
5.WhydoyouthinkitwassoimportantforGracietogethermotherintoXinGuang?WhatwouldyoubewillingtodoinGracie’splace?
6.Graciefindsamomentofempowermentwhensheditchesherattemptstoblendinandchoosesherownspecificpowerredlipstick—ashadedistinctfromFangli’s.Isthereapersonaltoken(whetherit’smakeuporsomeotheritem)thatmakesyoufeelpowerful?Whatdoyouthinkitisthatgivesyouthatfeeling?
7.Ifyouweregoingtobemistakenforacelebrity—andthenstepintotheirlifeforaweek—whowouldyouwantittobe?Why?Whowouldyouleastliketotradeliveswith?
8.Fanglirevealsthatshewasdiscouragedfromseekinghelpforherdepression.Whywasthat?Whatdoyouthinkwouldhavehappenedifshe’dsoughthelpanyway?Canyouthinkofanymomentsinyourorothers’liveswherementalhealthstigmakeptyou/othersfromseekinghelp?
9.Gracieisthrustintoafarmoreglamorouslifethanshe’severknownbefore.Ifyoufoundyourselfinhersituation,what’sthe#1luxuryyou’dmostenjoy?
10.Gracieinitiallyfeltpowerlessinthefaceofherboss,Todd.Whatdoyouthinkwaskeepingherfromfacinghimdown?Whatdidyouthinkoftheirfinalconfrontationandtherealizationthathedidn’thaveanypoweroverher?
11.SamclearlyenviesGracie’sabilitytoliveanormallifewithouttheeyesoftheworldonher.Howdoyouthinkyouwouldhandlebeingfamous?Wouldthetrade-offofluxuryvs.lossofprivacybeworthit?
12.EveryoneassumesSamandFangliareeitheracoupleorcertaintobecomeonesomeday.IfyouwereinGracie’sposition,wouldyoufeeljealousknowingsomanypeopleconsideredthemendgame?
13.GraciehastogothroughalotoftrainingandresearchtobecomeFangli.Doyouthinkyouwouldbeabletoconvincinglypretendtobesomeoneelseforafewmonths?
14.GracieandFanglidiscoverthatthereasontheylooksoalikeisbecausetheyaresisters.Wouldyoubeabletoforgiveyourparentsforhidingasecretlikethatfromyou?IfyouwereinFangli’ssituation,wouldyoubeabletoforgiveyourmotherforleaving?
15.GracieandFangli’smotherwasputinanimpossiblesituationwhensherealizedshewaspregnantwithhersecondchild,thankstotheone-childpolicy.Women’sreproductivechoiceshaveoftenbeenpoliticizedandcontrolled.Thishasputwomenaroundtheworldinimpossiblepositions.Whatdoyouthinktheimpacthasbeenandhowcanwomenresist?
16.WhydoyouthinkMeididwhatshedid?Wouldyouhavebeenabletoforgiveher?
17.Gracielongwishedforanorganizationalmethodthatactuallymetherneedsand,finally,decidedtocreateoneherself—becomingahugesuccessintheprocess.Isthereasimilarkindofprobleminyourlifethatneedssolving,andwhatstepsdoyouthinkyou’dneedtotaketocreateyourownkindofEppy?
18.ThefuturelooksbrightforGracie,Sam,andFangli,butthere’salongroadaheadofthem.Whatdoyouthinkisinstoreforthem?HowwillSam’scomplicatedrelationshipwithhisparentsplayintotheirfuture?AConversationwiththeAuthor
WhatwastheinspirationforTheStand-In?Whatdidyoudrawonasyoudevelopedthestory?
IwantedtowriteabookfeaturingabiracialmaincharacterwhohassimilarexperiencesasIhave.IalsowantedtoaddressissuesthatIthinkareimportant,namelyquestionsofidentity,loveandfriendship,andmentalhealth.
Onthelighterside,Iwantedtocreateafun,entertainingstoryasanescapeforreaders,likeanemotionalspadayTheStand-Inwaswrittenintheearlymonthsofthepandemic,sothisbecameincreasinglysignificantasIlookedforaplacetoretreatfromreality.
Whatcomesfirstforyou:theplotorthecharacters?Why?
Iusuallygetaplotideabasedonawhat-ifscenario,anditevolvesfromthere.Inthiscase,Iwondered:Whatifawomanwasapproachedtobeacelebritydouble?Whatwouldshedo?Whatkindofwomanwouldsayyes,andwhatwouldmotivatehertoagree?Ithencreatetheplotandcharactersatthesametime,whichmeansIgobackoftentochecktoseeifmycharactershavehadfundamentalchangesthatneedtoberethreadedthroughthedraft.
Didanythingaboutthestory(characters,plot,etc.)significantlychangefromyourfirstdraft?
Manythingschanged!IfirstplannedTheStand-InwithchaptersthatalternatedbetweenSamandGracie.ThefirstchapterhadSamonamoviesetdealingwithhisoverbearingmother,whenaverycluelessGraciewalkedthroughastheyfilm.Butthatdidn’tfeelrightbecauseIwantedmoreintimacybetweenthereaderandthestory.ThenextversionwasallfromGracie’spointofview,butFangliand
Whatisthemostvaluablepieceofwritingadviceyou’vereceived?
OftheverymanypiecesofwritingadviceI’veheardovertheyears,theonethatIcomebacktothemostisthatthereisnosuchthingasperfect—there’sonlythebestyoucandorightnow.It’simportanttorecognizethatasyougrowandlearn,yourwritingwill(hopefully)improve.Itrytoapplythistomynon-writinglifeaswell.Oh,anddon’treadreviews.That’ssolidadvice.
Whataresomeofyourfavoritemomentsinthebook?Arethereanyparticularcharactersorsituationsthatyoumostidentifywithorthatwerethemostfuntowrite?
I’mahugefanofmakeovermoments,particularlyifit’samontagesettoaclassic1980ssong.Althoughitdoesn’thaveasoundtrackinthebook,themostfunscenestowriteweretheoneswhereGracieisexploringhernewluxuriousworld.EventhoughIdressforcomfort(read:sweatpants)I’dkilltohaveawalk-inclosetfilledwithdesignerclotheslikeGraciehasinherhotelroom.I’djuststandintheclosetandadmirethem.
Whatwasthehardestscenetowrite?
Spoileralert,butI’mgoingtoassumeifyou’rereadingthis,you’vefinishedthebook.ThehardestscenetowritewasGracie’sconfrontationwithToddonthebalcony.IpersonallywantedToddtogetareallybrutalcomeuppance,likeatotalknock-out.IalsoneededittoberealistictoGracie’scharacter.Balancingthetwotomakeitemotionallysatisfyingtookmultiplerewrites.
Onitsreleaseasanaudiooriginal,therewasanamazingresponsefromlisteners.Whataresomethingsfansofthestoryenjoyedthatyouwereexcitedtosee?
Iwasthrilledattheresponsefromreaders.Iwasmovedtoseehowmanypeopleresonatedwiththementalhealththemesofthebook,andhowthecharactersdealwithitintheirindividualways.
Mentalhealthissuesarestillstigmatized,hiddenorenduredinisolationbecausepeopleareashamedtoaskforhelporscaredtoexpresstheirfeelings.I’dlovetoseementalhealthdiscussionsnormalizedandasawriter,thewayIdothisisthroughmycharacters.IwantedGracie,Fangli,andSamtorepresenthowsomepeoplemightapproachthoseoftenincrediblyimportantbutdifficultconversations.
WhatwasitliketofirsthearPhillipaSoonarratetheaudiobook?
Itwasextraordinary.AperformancelikePhillipa’sbringsanadditionallayerofbrightnessanddepthtothecharacters.Ihaveahugeamountofrespectforherperformanceandgratitudeforhowcarefulshewasinherinterpretationofthetext.
Youbalancedsocialissuesinthisnovelwithhumorandheart.Whydidyoufeelitwasimportanttopushtheboundariesofthetraditionallovestorytoincludemorecomplexityandnuance?
Goodcharactershavemulti-facetedlives.Theywork,theyhavefriends.Theygetoverwhelmedbybigproblemsandaggravatedbysmallones.Itmakessensetometoreflectthatinthestoryaswell,sincewhenwefallinlove,wefallinloveaswholepeople,bringingwithusalloftheintertwinedjoyandpainandconfusionofourlives.Charactersshould,too.
Howdidyourownexperienceasabiculturalauthorinformyourcharacters’stories?Howelsehasyourbackgroundandlivedexperienceinfluencedyourwork?Arethereanyscenesthatyoupulledfromreallife?
Experiencesofracializedpeopledependonsomanyfactors:family,gender,geography,dominantculture,andethnicbackgroundbeingonlyafew.Butatthesametime,Ithinktherearecommonmomentsformanyofus.Straddlingtwoculturesshapeshowweperceiveouridentity,theworld,andourplaceinit.Therearedefinitelysomeelementsofreal-lifereflectedinGracie’sstory.HerattempttolearnChineseisidenticaltomyown.Iuseanapp,too!
Whatareyouhopingreaderswillwalkawayfromyourbookthinkingaboutortalkingabout?
Ihopethereareenoughelementsthatwillresonatewithdifferentreaders.Somemaywishthere’sarealEppyappavailable(Ido)orcomeawayfinallyfeelingseeninabookthatfeaturescharacterslikethem.Myoverallgoalwasthatpeoplecouldlosethemselvesinadifferentworldforafewenjoyablehours.IfIachievedthat,I’mhappy.
Thereisalotaboutfamilyandhowthatisdefinedinthebook.Whydidyouwanttotacklethatissue?
Iliketowritemulti-dimensionalcharactersandfamilyisahugecomponentofwhoweareandhowwe’reshapedaspeople.Tohaveastorywithoutfamily,orthatdidn’tincorporatetheimpactsoffamily,bothgoodandbad,wouldbelikehavingasandwichwithoutbread.
Whatdoyouthinkarethemostimportantelementsofgoodwriting/storytelling?
WhenIlookbackatstoriesI’veenjoyedversusstoriesI’veadored,themaindifferenceisthattheenjoyablestorieshavehadstrongplotorstrongcharacterelements.Theincredibleoneshavehadboth.Havingthatmix,andthenlayeringonthemesandthreadingthroughmotifsbuildstoriesthatpeoplewanttokeepreading.
Ifyouweretowriteaspin-offaboutasecondarycharacter,whowoulditbe?
WeiFangli.We’renotallmoviestars,butIthinkmostpeoplecanrelatetoherlongingforconnection,herbattlewithbalancingherprofessionalandpersonallives,andherstruggleswithcopingwithhermentalhealth.She’saveryrichcharacterwhoIcouldseegoinginmanydifferentdirections.
Whatcanweexpectfromyounext?
Mynextbookisanotherrom-comthattellsthestoryofanambitiouslawyerwhofallsinlovewithaK-popidol.Itwasahugeamountoffuntowrite,andIhadthebesttimeresearchingK-popboybands.Acknowledgments
Thankyoutomyincredibleagent,CarriePestritto,whosaidIshoulddefinitelyandtotallywritethisbook.AllisonCarrollfromAudibleandMaryAltmanfromSourcebookswereeditorsextraordinaire.Go,team!
CandiceRogersLouazelisalwaysmyfirstandbestreader.AllisonTemple,FarahHeron,JackieLau,andRosannaLeowerespot-onintheirgentlywordedadvice.
Athank-yougoestothosewhogenerouslytookthetimetoanswermyemailsthatstarted“Weirdquestion,but…”:LydiaJin,NatashaMytnowych,DeniseTay,andMicheleYuen-McDonald.
Mostofall,thankyoutoElliottandNyla,whogavemethespacetowriteanddidn’tmakemeplayboardgameswiththemeventhoughwewereinlockdown.AbouttheAuthor
LilyChulivesinToronto,Canada,andlovesorderingthesecond-cheapestwine,wearingperfumeallthetime,andstayingupfartoolatereadingagoodbook.ShewritesromanticcomedieswithstrongAsiancharacters.
Youcanlearnmoreatlilychuauthor.comand@lilychuauthorThankyouforreadingthisSourcebookseBook!
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