by Gloria Chao
Q: Why do you want to do this?
A: To help people. And I’d be good at it. I think.
I laughed. “You’re so honest, even adding the ‘I think’ at the end.”
“My answers may have been more stream-of-consciousness than advised for a job application, but it was the only way I could go through with it—type quickly and send before I changed my mind.”
I squeezed his hand.
Q: What’s your relationship with your family like?
A: Currently nonexistent. We don’t talk because I told them the truth about what I want in life (to be an artist), and they didn’t approve. In fact, I wonder if that would make me a better operative. I can understand what the clients are going through in a unique, personal way. I know how to support them.
How my heart hurt. I knew he didn’t feel this clinical about his relationship with his parents, but to see it that way on paper was still jarring.
Q: Will you be able to do holiday jobs?
A: For the foreseeable future, yep. No conflict at all. In fact, maybe it’s even a plus. Holidays alone are no fun. Not recommended.
Check all you are willing to do for a job:
Pretend to have a political allegiance different from your own
Pretend to have religious views different from your own
Learn a new skill, with lessons provided by Rent for Your ’Rents (please check all that apply):
Sports
Golf
Basketball
Football
Soccer
Frisbee
Dance
Instrument
Violin
Piano
Èrhú
Dulcimer
Pípa
Guitar
Games
Mahjong
Bridge
Chess
Chinese chess
Go
Chinese calligraphy
Chinese painting
Chinese history
Chinese philosophers
Language, spoken
Mandarin
Taiwanese
Cantonese
Language, written
Traditional characters
Simplified characters
Cooking
Learn new subjects for possible majors/careers/etc.
Science-related
Math-related
Sociology
Political science
Economics
Business
Health care
Entrepreneurship
Law
Tech
I paused and looked up when he started speaking.
“I signed up for every class I could take, especially the art ones. Chinese painting didn’t teach me anything I didn’t already know from playing around, but it was during that class that I first started experimenting with the paper.”
“When you talk about the company, you seem really appreciative.”
He sighed. “You know, I am grateful—it fed me all this time while giving me access to valuable resources I wouldn’t have had otherwise. But it’s also this strange dichotomy, where the good doesn’t get rid of the associated shame I sometimes feel.”
“Because you’re lying?” I guessed.
“Maybe. Except some lies are born out of love.”
Yup.
I asked, “Do you ever think about going home and saying you’re now an engineer or doctor or philosopher or something, then using your training to faux prove it?”
Hesitation. “Not anymore. I used to.”
“But…,” I urged.
More hesitation. “I don’t know how to be someone else with them, even if it means I get to have them back.”
Silence.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s the right choice for everyone,” he added, obviously for my sake. “My situation certainly isn’t something to strive for.”
“How come you can be someone else with everyone but not with your family?” It was the exact opposite for me.
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I planned it this way. I knew they wouldn’t be happy, but I didn’t think they’d reject me. Maybe that messed me up a bit.”
“I’m sorry. Do you regret your decision?”
Immediately he shook his head. “Question? Yes. Regret? No, not anymore.”
I looked back down at the application. Drew was no longer the lost boy who had filled it out, but he also wasn’t quite whole yet.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I said, hugging the papers.
“I now have a better appreciation for what the clients go through—I feel like I’m standing in front of you naked!”
We laughed, then finished our cake while perusing more of his application. And all our resulting inside jokes were the icing on top.
Drew CHAPTER 44
CLOSING IN
At two in the morning, when we stumbled through the front door of Chloe’s parents’ house, the air was filled with hope and joy. My arm was wrapped around her shoulder and hers around my waist, and our cuddling felt as natural as our laughs. But then we bumped (almost literally, but not fully) into Mrs. Wang, standing in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips.
Chloe quickly hid the sheep Cháng’é painting behind her back, then passed it to me roughly. I took it tenderly, the slight rip in the corner (my thumb couldn’t stop rubbing it) mirroring the rip in my heart.
Her mother didn’t seem to care what it was. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, the iciness of her voice freezing any residual warmth in the air.
Shockingly, Chloe matched her mother’s stance. “You were the one who asked me to leave. On Christmas.”
Mrs. Wang’s fists slid down in shock and her eyes went wide for a second before they narrowed in frustration. “Are you drunk? What’s wrong with you?” She turned to me and pointed an accusatory finger. “You’re a bad influence on her.”
Chloe pushed her mother’s finger down. “I’m not drunk; I’m happy, Mǎmá. He’s a good influence on me. He makes me feel more like myself.”
Normally, I’d be sucking up to the parent, but as Chloe’s sort-of-boyfriend-but-also-hired-gun, I was a chicken running around with its head cut off.
Quietly I said, “She was really hurt you didn’t want to spend Christmas with her.”
Mrs. Wang scoffed, then eyed her daughter up and down. “She doesn’t look hurt to me. Quite the opposite.”
Chloe retorted, “I can be hurt by you and still have a good time with my boyfriend.”
My heart soared for a moment before I remembered that the word didn’t necessarily mean anything given the circumstances.
Mrs. Wang seemed ready to lob another attack, but then she hesitated and stood there mulling things over before turning to me and forcing an unconvincing smile. “Well, I’m glad you could be there for her, Andrew.” That name flipped the switch, and my head felt even more muddled. “Hope you whisked her off her feet, maybe opened your wallet to show your appreciation for what she—and we—have sacrificed for your relationship.”
“He doesn’t need to spend money to show me he cares,” Chloe said boldly.
Mrs. Wang looked like she’d been slapped. “Are you saying you don’t appreciate the gift I broke myself to scrimp together for you?”
“No! Of course not!” Chloe’s face was aghast. “I didn’t mean… I just… No, I’m so appreciative.” She took a breath. “Can we take a step back and not do this when we’re all so tired? Can we maybe spend tomorrow together?”
“Doesn’t Andrew have a doctor’s appointment?” Mrs. Wang asked.
Chloe’s face fell. “Oh, right.” She looked at me with frantic eyes. “Well, maybe we can cancel that, especially if—”
Mrs. Wang turned and started up the stairs. “You should go with Andrew. Don’t lose this one too, and be left with no one.”
Chloe’s face was sad but her fists were clenched as she watched her mother disappear from
view. “Because the only thing that makes me worth anything is who I’m with,” she whispered, hauntingly devoid of emotion.
She took the painting back from me and, seeing the tear (both in the corner and in me), her face drained of color.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m a monster.”
“It’s no big deal,” I lied.
She shook her head frantically, so fast it matched my sped-up heartbeat. “No,” she said. “I’m… I can’t…”
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
Then I pecked her on the cheek quickly (and maybe without much heart) and retreated to the uncomfortable, definitely-starting-to-smell couch.
I needed a second. I knew it hadn’t been on purpose and that the rip had been a result of unrelated messiness, but that was also exactly why I was bothered.
She and I were built out of lies. Were we strong enough to survive?
Chloe
I hated myself.
But I didn’t know what else to do. The walls were closing in and there was only one path forward: keep up the lies.
I knew all the consequences were chasing me down, but I needed to keep running running running without looking back to see what was about to bite me in the ass. If I slowed even for a second, it would all fall apart. I would lose everything.
I thought about Jerry, about sheep, about the “love you” game-theory guy, in an attempt to keep away the worst thought haunting me: Maybe I’m going to lose everything anyway.
Chloe CHAPTER 45
DR. LIN
December 26
“Thank you for doing this,” I said to Drew, who was sitting across from me, atop the examination table.
We were visiting my community’s choice primary-care doctor on the pretense of Drew needing his eye checked. Upon arrival at the office, we had filled out a medical-history form—were Drew’s answers accurate?—before being ushered to a room by the receptionist, who I of course knew from church.
I glanced at Drew’s legs tapping against the side of the table. “I know this is a little demeaning. Okay, a lot demeaning.”
It couldn’t be fun for him to be playing up the altercation, but wasn’t it also good to get his eye checked out? It would certainly bring me a little peace of mind.
“Happy to do it for you,” he told me, though his refusal to meet my gaze indicated that he was indeed a little humiliated, which made his gesture even more amazing. Except, in a way, you’re paying him to do it, a nagging voice said in my head.
Dr. Lin walked in with a dramatic flourish. “Ah, Jing-Jing, nǐ hǎo,” he said, grabbing my hand.
“Shǔshú hǎo,” I answered, dipping my head slightly. Force of habit. “This is my boyfriend, Andrew. Thanks for seeing us.”
Dr. Lin shook Drew’s hand. “Andrew, nice to finally meet you. Well, officially. I saw you at the party but didn’t have a chance to introduce myself before everything.”
We all forced tight smiles. Except Dr. Lin’s wasn’t all that tight. Or forced. Maybe it was even a little hungry?
“And please, no need to thank me. I’m here for you. Both of you,” he said, pulling his squat, round doctor’s stool over and taking a seat. “Would you like me to check the baby?” He gestured to my belly.
And this was exactly why Drew needed to be the patient today, not me. Even if my appointment had been for something not baby-related, Dr. Lin would’ve given me an ultrasound, and that was just too messy. Not a good path to our goal of learning about my father’s health.
“How long has it been?” Dr. Lin continued. “Prenatal vitamins on the regimen, Jing-Jing? Do you have a birth plan?”
Even though a normal doctor would have asked these questions—or at least, I presumed they would have—I knew from the underlying glint in his eyes that he was digging for gossip and just wanted to know the whole story.
“Just Andrew’s eye for today, please,” I said, calmly but boldly, trying to take charge.
He cleared his throat. “You know that kissing doesn’t lead to pregnancy, right, Jing-Jing?”
“What?” I said just as Drew seemed to choke on his own saliva.
Dr. Lin scooted a little closer. “Someone suggested to me that maybe you missed a period and didn’t know that can happen without being pregnant.”
“Are you kidding me right now? Whoever told you that was probably trying to embarrass me!”
I wanted to run right out of there, but I told myself to hang on, that we had a mission, and that it was okay. At least Drew was on my side—though, truthfully, I might have preferred he not be here for this.
“I just want to make sure you know everything,” Dr. Lin said calmly. “I know parents in our community aren’t always great with sex education, so I’ve gotten used to being the one to, you know. Talk about all that.”
And what a fine job you’re doing, I thought sarcastically.
Luckily, Drew piped up. “I think we’re good on that. Can we move on?”
Dr. Lin seemed to have forgotten Drew was there. But the words must have sunk in because he said, “I’m sorry. I overstepped. That’s a danger of treating patients you know well. I apologize.”
And here was my chance. “That’s okay. It must be hard. Is it especially difficult when your patients are very sick? And you have to tell them, treat them, inform their families?” His eyes met mine, but he didn’t say anything. “Was it hard to tell my dad?”
He let out a breath. “Oh, he changed his mind and told you. It wasn’t as hard to tell him since his news wasn’t all that bad, as you know, but it’s obviously still awful. But being able to help is the silver lining. I’m glad we caught it early.”
“Me too,” said a tiny voice, which, yes, was mine, but I was now functioning on autopilot as my mind worked to process everything.
He was such a terrible doctor. I guess I could accept how much he had overstepped with me earlier given that it was this very trait that was allowing me entry into my father’s condition, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about how my parents needed to see someone more professional. Maybe he was at least good at diagnosing and treating, I tried to reason.
I had to fight my urge to demand he tell me more, or to pull the fire alarm and steal a look at my dad’s files. But I stayed still because I knew Dr. Lin, and the info dump was coming; he loved to hear himself talk, especially as the expert.
“Your father’s prostate cancer is slow-growing, so even though it’s of course scary, his prognosis is good. If you need to talk to anyone, I can give you some names, but as long as you’re prepared for what’s to come, you’ll all get through this. Together.”
Except we weren’t together. And I didn’t know what was to come. I didn’t fucking know anything.
“I’m glad he told you,” Dr. Lin continued. “It’s not usually our way, and I used to think that was the right way too, but I’ve seen how for some families, especially ones that grow up here, that can be traumatizing.” He sighed. “I don’t know what the right answer is. Do you?” I was shocked he was asking me, but then he laughed, signaling it was rhetorical and, somehow, a joke. “Have you ever thought about how hard it is for your parents to try to meld traditions from two cultures, Jing-Jing?” They never try all that hard. “Your generation will never understand ours.”
And you all will never understand us, especially not with that attitude.
I sat quietly in my seat, my hands folded in my lap, half tuning out Dr. Lin while trying to process the new information about my dad. Except what was I supposed to do with it? Just like everything else, I wasn’t supposed to know, and we were all using our overflowing supply of secrets to build walls between us.
What would happen when one came to light? When should I reveal my truth, or that I knew my father’s?
Dr. Lin shined a light in and out of Drew’s eye, then asked him to follow his finger. He pressed down on the surrounding soft tissue, checking Drew’s reaction for pain.
“Nothing to worry about. Just take some ibu
profen for any discomfort.” He clapped Drew on the back. “Lucky you, huh? I heard Hongbo could’ve been a ranked boxer, but he chose to run the family business instead.”
I still said nothing, because I couldn’t.
“Thanks, Dr. Lin,” Drew said, hopping down from the table.
“Thanks,” I echoed, only so that he wouldn’t put together that he’d just broken HIPAA. And then I remembered that Dr. Lin was giving us a courtesy visit, as a friend, since we obviously couldn’t use Drew’s health insurance—which I had explained to Dr. Lin as Drew wanting to save face and keep the punch from Hongbo off his medical record.
“Thanks for everything,” I added sincerely. “And for helping my father so much.” I had to force back tears.
“Just doing my job,” he responded nonchalantly.
Drew piped up. “And, uh, I think Wang Shǔshú is still having a hard time with everything going on—”
“Especially with me knowing,” I interrupted, jumping in when I caught on to Drew’s goal of preventing Dr. Lin from telling my dad about our conversation. “It’s not the usual way, as you said, so I think it’d be best for his recovery if you, you know—”
“I get it,” Dr. Lin said with a nod. “It’s good he’s in such denial. Many Chinese people believe that the knowledge of the sickness is what gets you, even more than the actual disease. Don’t worry; I know how to best deal with that.”
He applied hand sanitizer, then gave me one more smile. “Your parents love you, Jing-Jing. Maybe try to remember that before making your public declarations in such a dramatic way? Your father’s been through enough.” He stood. “Next time you’re in town, we should check your blood pressure. And do a full workup on the baby.”
I was tempted to tell him the truth, but that suddenly felt of no importance.
As soon as the door shut behind Dr. Lin, I asked Drew, “He doesn’t know what just actually happened, right?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, I need to know how likely it is that my parents will find out I know.” I was spinning. Focusing on weird, less important things because I couldn’t face what I’d just found out. What I’d just tricked Dr. Lin into telling me.