by Pintip Dunn
Soft hands touch my elbows. I’m steered onto the bed so that I’m sitting between my sisters. Ari picks up one hand, intertwines it with her own, and Bunny picks up the other.
“Can I say something?” Ari asks.
I laugh without much amusement. “You can say whatever you want, whenever you want. You always do.” I’m not bitter at the way things are. They simply are.
“We listened,” Bunny reminds me. “Will you listen, too?”
“I’ll try.” I’m painfully aware that this was all that Mat asked of me: to try. I didn’t do it then. But here, with my sisters, maybe I can now.
“We could tell you that none of what you described is true.” Ari grips my hand. “That Bunny and I feel like the most pathetic freshmen to have ever attended Wash U.”
“We could also tell you why we love you,” Bunny chimes in, without missing a beat. They’re so in sync that sometimes I wonder if they plan their speeches ahead of time. But how could they, this time, when they didn’t know what I was going to say?
“We don’t love you because you’re copies of us, and it’s certainly not because you obey,” Bunny continues. “Which, frankly, I’m not so sure you’re that great at anyway. Remember the time you took my strappy sandals and colored in the clear heel with a black Sharpie?”
“Not my fault,” I protest. “That was during my Frozen stage, and you would not stop bragging about your icicle shoes. I wanted icicle shoes like Elsa, too.”
“Girls,” Ari warns. “Not the point.”
“Right,” Bunny says, her lips twitching. “Where was I? Oh yes. We love you because you’re you, Winnie. People like being around you. You make people smile and laugh. You have this uncanny ability to make others feel like the best version of themselves. That’s why people gravitate toward you. Our whole family, we all revolve around you. You’re the glue. The very core.”
“But that’s not something we can tell you,” Ari adds. “Or at least, we can, because we just did. But it’s something that will sink in only when you believe it yourself. That’s why I’ve always liked Mat, you know. With him, you always seem more confident. More you.”
I pull my hands from their grasp. Not because I don’t want their support but because our palms are getting sweaty. “That could take forever. The whole believing-in-myself bit.”
“Well, yeah,” Bunny says. “I mean, look at me. I know I seem like the ever-wise older sister—”
Ari nudges me and pretends to gag. I stifle a giggle.
“But don’t forget, I’m only twenty months older than you and six minutes older than Ari. I’m a work in progress, too.”
“Thank you for that, O humble one,” Ari says with an exaggerated eye roll. She turns back to me. “The key is to surround ourselves with people who will help us become the person we want to be. That includes people who encourage us to take steps in the right direction.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, not convinced.
Bunny shoots to her feet. I recognize the brisk movement, the decisive action. This is the mannerism she adopts when she’s about to take charge. “Do you love our parents, Winnie?”
“Of course I do.”
“This is the same lecture I’ve been giving Ari all week,” she says. “If you love them, you have to give them a little credit. Give them the chance to prove you wrong, to show that they’ve been growing and adapting right alongside us.” She takes a deep breath. “Maybe this is both your and Ari’s chance to clear the air.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “What does Ari have to come clean about?”
Bunny and I both look at Ari, who seems to be trying to fold in on herself. “Oh, um. You remember how Bunny was being totally outrageous at Family Breakfast, because she was trying to set the stage, in case I decided to confess?”
“When, Ari,” my other sister interjects. “For when you decided to confess.”
“I didn’t actually make up my mind until this very moment.” Ari straightens, her shoulders unfurling like the petals of a flower. That’s when I remember that she met someone, too. Someone unexpected. “What do you think, Winnie? I can be brave if you can. Want to do this together?”
I’m still not sure what Ari’s secret is. But I know one thing. Everything is easier—and better—with my sisters.
“Okay,” I say reluctantly.
We come together in a group hug, and that’s when I realize that Mat was wrong about one thing, at least. My sisters may cast a long shadow, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing for me to linger in their shade.
I don’t have to hide there. Instead, I can seek refuge. I can admit my insecurities. I can bolster my true self so that when I finally emerge, into the light, I am that much closer to the person I want to be.
The Winnie I know I can be.
The girl who can stand on her own—but who understands that it’s much more effective, heartening, and fun to stand with her sisters.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The hallway is not wide enough for the three of us to walk abreast, so Bunny goes first, and Ari and I follow. Either because she’s the big sister and she likes to lead or because Ari and I are mildly terrified and need someone else to pave the way.
“My knees are shaking,” Ari whispers to me.
“Does that actually happen?”
“Mine are.”
We look down, and sure enough, her knees are vibrating through her thick navy tights printed with little hedgehogs.
“Cute tights, though,” I say.
“I thought you would like them,” she says, brightening. “Bunny thought they were ridiculous, but I got them because they reminded me of you.” She gasps, realizing what she just said. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. I’d rather be known for my supercute style than for, say, being clumsy.”
“That was her second choice.” Bunny looks over her shoulder, flashing pearly white teeth. “When she misses you, she goes to YouTube and watches videos of people falling down.”
I suck in a breath. “Is that true, Ari?”
“Well…” She offers me a sheepish smile. “I only do it because I miss you. My baby sister. That should count for something, right?”
“I guess,” I grumble, although inside, I’m smiling, too. The banter with my sisters manages what should’ve been impossible: taking my nerves down a notch.
When we round the corner, Mama’s at the bottom of the stairs, craning her neck as though she’s trying to hear one floor up. She jumps when she spots us, and by the time we descend to the main level, she’s retreated to the kitchen and is sitting with Papa at the small dining table.
Papa’s reading on a tablet and drinking chrysanthemum tea from a blue lace ceramic cup. The sink and counters are immaculate, as usual, and steam rises from the ever-present rice cooker.
Day or night, summer or winter, there is jasmine rice in our kitchen. Currently cooking, just finished cooking, or about to be cooked. Some people consider signs of the apocalypse to be empty city streets or flesh-eating zombies. I’ll know that the world is falling apart if I come downstairs and there’s no rice.
“Mother.” Only Bunny can inject equal parts exasperation and amusement into that word. “Were you eavesdropping on us?”
“Next time, try a glass against the door,” Ari says helpfully. “Or, you know, a baby monitor.”
“Why would I eavesdrop on my own daughters?” Mama sniffs. “Don’t you think I have better things to do? I was spending time with Papa. We were talking about—” She shoots him a frantic look.
“Thriving,” he supplies. “Ways for us old folks to thrive, now that two-thirds of our offspring are at college.”
“Ew.” I cover my ears. “Not this again. Can you please go thrive on your own time?”
My sisters blink, mystified. I start to explain the article on thriving and public displays o
f affection when Mama interrupts.
“That’s enough of that.” Her face is the same color as Mat’s when he sampled the Everythang sauce. “What was so important that you girls had to hole upstairs for more than an hour?”
“I thought you had more important matters than your daughters’ affairs,” Bunny teases.
“I do. Your father wants to know.” She nudges his shoulder. “Don’t you, Papa?”
“Hmm?” He glances up from his tablet. “Whatever your mother says, I completely agree.” He makes a fist and pounds it on the table.
We all giggle, even Mama.
“Fine,” she admits. “The truth is, I desperately want to know about all your lives. It’s not easy being the outsider, only getting snippets of information here and there.”
“Oh, Mother.” Bunny swoops in and kisses her on the forehead. “You know we love you.”
Mama pats her cheek. “You just don’t tell me anything.”
That’s an opening if I’ve ever heard one. I nudge Ari. She pokes me back. I prod her once again, and we’re in danger of disintegrating into a Nudge War when Bunny shoots us a warning glare.
“I have something to say.” Ari puffs out a breath, dislodging her long bangs. We couldn’t decide if our parents would react better to my news or hers. So we went with a coin toss—and she lost. “I’ve met someone. And it’s serious.”
Mama squeals so loudly that my eardrums vibrate. And then she’s shaking Papa’s shoulders. “I knew it wasn’t too early to ask the fortune-teller about baby names. I knew it.”
“It’s not what you think,” Ari says.
Her words are quiet, barely audible, but they cleave the air like a knife. Silencing Mama. Killing her excitement.
Her hand tightens on Papa’s shoulders. “Mai khwam wa arai?” she asks in Thai, as though fear has chased away her English. What do you mean?
Ari’s eyes bounce all over the room, wild, desperate, as though there’s no safe place to land. And then they settle on her twin. Just like that, Ari’s limbs still, and her features become smooth.
Oh, to have that twin wizardry.
“What I have to tell you,” Ari begins, her voice the tensile strength of steel, “is that since I’ve gotten to college, I’ve realized that I’m bisexual. And the person I’m dating, the one I’m very serious about…is a woman.”
No one speaks. Even the rice cooker has stopped hissing, even the faucet doesn’t drip.
Papa clears his throat. “Well.”
Mama rolls her shoulders like a batter coming up to home plate, focusing her eyes, emptying her thoughts. She opens her mouth—and I clutch Bunny’s sleeve. I can’t help it. There’s no predicting where Mama will go. What she’ll say. How she’ll hurt.
“Is she very accomplished?” Mama asks.
I gape. I could be a meme for utter and total shock. Because that particular question? Didn’t make the top one hundred responses that I expected.
“Very,” Ari says, recovering first. “Her name’s Sabrina. She’s Black and a senior at Wash U. She’s just been accepted to Harvard Medical School.”
Ah, the magic word. No, scratch that. Two magic words. Using “Harvard” and “medicine” in the same sentence exponentially magnifies their power.
Tension leaks out of the air, and the whole room seems to take a breath.
“That’s just wonderful.” Papa holds up his teacup as though he’s toasting us. “She’ll be able to take care of you.”
“Um, excuse me?” Ari arches a delicate eyebrow. “I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” he says, as though she just stated that there was rebirth after death. “I raised all my girls to be independent. But this simply gives you an extra safety net—and me more peace of mind.”
“When can we visit?” Mama pulls a calendar out of the island drawer and consults the dates. “She’s Black, you say? We’ll take her to a Thai restaurant. It’s not home cooking, but at least we’ll be able to gauge how she tolerates our spices.”
“We’ll order nam phrik kapi,” Papa muses. “Notoriously stinky to falang. If she can eat that, she’s in.”
Bunny groans, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. “Seriously, Papa? Are you really going to evaluate all our suitors and suitresses with a taste test? That seems so wrong.”
“Sabrina’s cleared the other hurdles,” he argues. “This is only one more.”
I’m lost. It’s like my family zipped over to another planet—and forgot to invite me.
“Wait a minute.” I look from Mama to Papa. “You’re not disappointed?”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled that Ari’s found someone who appreciates every last facet of her, from her eyelashes to her socks, from her strength to her loyalty. I believe love is love, and it is always beautiful.
But Mama and Papa come from a different generation. That’s why we didn’t know how they would react. That’s why Ari was so nervous. Is it possible that she stressed for no reason at all?
Papa gestures for Ari and me to join them at the table, pouring tea into three more cups. I sit between my parents, and Ari joins Bunny at the other end.
“I think you’ve mistaken our rules for something they’re not,” Papa says. “They’re meant to protect you. To guide you onto the most direct path to happiness. But how you girls get there is up to you.”
“I worry, of course.” Mama hands out the cups and waits for us to take a sip of the flower tea, sweetened by brown sugar. Always delicious, even during this whirlwind conversation.
“It’s not easy to be in a same-sex relationship,” she continues. “People can be unkind. We face enough discrimination, being Thai in this country. Ideally, I wouldn’t want you to face any more. But Ari is who she is. And we will support her. Always.”
Papa’s eyes twinkle. “That is, so long as you give us, and especially your mothe—”
“Babies,” she blurts. “I don’t care which gender. Doesn’t matter which race. Just so long as you give me grandbabies, to cuddle and love, before I die.”
Ari beams. “Will do.”
I’ve never seen any of us react so positively to Mama’s grandbaby obsession, ever.
And now, I suppose, it’s my turn.
I rotate the teacup in my palms, hoping to leach some confidence from its heat. Ari has done a beautiful job setting me up, even though that’s not what any of us intended.
Please, pra Buddha cho, let my parents remember what they said about wanting us to be happy. About supporting us, for always.
“I have a confession as well,” I say.
Papa extends his arm behind Mama’s chair, touching her shoulder. She jumps, because she’s not used to his newfound penchant for casual touches.
And neither am I. Let’s hope this small change portends a larger shift in their attitudes.
“You don’t know this, Papa, but I kissed Mat the other day,” I begin.
He flinches so hard that I’m surprised his teacup doesn’t crack. But although his face turns the color of a mangosteen, he must sense there’s more, because he gestures for me to continue.
I look down at the pale-yellow liquid. A few chrysanthemum buds gather at the bottom of my cup, but try as I might, I can’t read them like tea leaves.
“I told Mama the kiss didn’t mean anything,” I say. “That I was just trying it out, the way you experimented with cigarettes. But I was lying. The truth is, I really care about Mat. I might even love him. And not just as a friend.”
I take a deep breath. This is it. The moment I put my love on the line…for love. My eyes find my sisters, sitting at the opposite end of the table. Bunny’s fiddling with the pack of dried chrysanthemum buds, and she shoots one of the buds into her empty teacup. Ari flashes me a thumbs-up and mouths, She scores!
And I know, no matter how my parents
react, that this is fitting. This is right.
I need to embrace my true self, and they can accept me or not.
Love me or not.
“I don’t want to practice any more. I don’t want to pretend any longer. With your permission, I’d like to date Mat for real.”
The silence is expected. But oh, not the length. Not the depth and height. I count one hundred seconds. Bunny stops shooting chrysanthemum buds to cross her fingers, and Ari puts away her phone, where she’s probably been texting Sabrina. My parents hold an epic eye conference that rivals my sisters’.
“Well. This is unprecedented,” Papa says finally. “We’ve never let you girls date in high school before.”
“Um, news flash,” Bunny says, taking more chrysanthemum buds out of the package. She’s worked through half of the bag already. “Mat and Winnie have been dating. That’s how this whole thing started. Because of your rules.”
Mama whisks away Bunny’s teacup, filled with the dried buds. I think she’s going to scold my sister for wasting them, but she simply swaps out the full cup with her own empty one. “Fake dates,” she clarifies. “Why do you think I went to so much trouble to model them after the movies? To remind the kids—and us—that these dates are fictional and not real.”
This conversation isn’t proceeding the way that I wanted. They’re not coming around as quickly as I hoped. Can a twenty-month age gap, the difference between college and high school, really matter so much?
Apparently so.
I need to tell them more. To explain more of what’s in my heart.
“I’ve never asked you to reconsider your rules,” I say. “Ari and Bunny are always forging new ground. They’re constantly making you question your decisions and adapt. But not me. My rules were always handed down to me, and I’ve never asked you to change them. Well, I’m asking you now. Not as the youngest of your three daughters. Not as an extension of the twins. But as me. Winnie.”
I take a deep breath. “I know your rules are designed to make my life easier. I know you want to save me from heartache. And I was always happy to go along with your wishes because I wanted to please you. I wanted to be the good Thai girl.” I lick my lips, but it doesn’t do any good, since my tongue is furnace-dry. “I needed you to love me.”