Rent a Boyfriend

by Gloria Chao

  Drew gently sat me down on the examination table next to him. “Let’s try to process the information first before we get ahead of ourselves. But most likely, no, he doesn’t know.”

  I took a deep breath and he joined me, matching my tempo. “I’m so tired,” I whispered when my heart had slowed a hair, though I could still hear the beats in my head.

  “I know,” he whispered back, cradling my torso and hugging me to him. “I’m sorry about everything.”

  We rocked back and forth to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Drew didn’t comment when my tears splashed against his chest, and I let them fall fall fall until nothing was left.

  Drew CHAPTER 46

  THREE SUNS

  Once we left Dr. Lin’s office, Chloe wasn’t ready to see her parents yet. We stopped for boba tea, but she didn’t really touch hers except to stir the fat straw around.

  “I should go,” I said, even though it went against everything I wanted.

  Chloe looked up from her taro milk bubble tea. “Go where?” she asked, her eyes not quite there.

  “Home.” I had to force the words out. “To give you time with your parents.”

  “You can’t leave now!” she burst out before I finished my sentence. Then her voice grew as small as her hunched body looked. “You’re the only one on my side.”

  “I’ll be on your side even if I’m not there physically. I’m just a phone call away.”

  “Except you’re not,” she said, a little frantic. “If you leave, then my parents will think you’re back in Chicago, and you won’t be able to pop back in. I mean, yeah, we could talk on the phone, but…” She trailed off.

  I wasn’t sure if she was thinking about how we’d never done that before or how it wasn’t enough. Regardless, I was too many steps ahead of her. “Forget what I said. What do you need right now?”

  She grabbed my right hand with her left, and we sat in silence, sipping our tea and chewing our honey-soaked tapioca pearls.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later she said, “Okay.”

  Okay… you’re ready to go home? You want to tell your parents you know? You want me to hug you and never let go?

  I waited patiently.

  She sucked up the last dregs of tea noisily, the purple liquid sputtering and flailing at the bottom of the cup. “You’re right, I think. I need some time with my parents.”

  Even though her sentence had started with “you’re right,” even though I was proud of her for figuring out what she needed, even though it was what I already knew, my heart sank.

  But now was not the time to be selfish. “Okay,” I said, giving her my trained you’ve got this smile.

  I grabbed her now-empty cup and was about to stand and track down a trash can, but she stopped me by grabbing my free hand. My knees bent and lowered me back to my seat.

  “I hope you know what you mean to me,” she said, slightly shy, her eyes darting away periodically. “I… I really don’t want you to leave, but…” I nodded at her to show I understood. “I don’t know where your head’s at with us, now and going forward, but for me, I want to see where it can go. I know it’s messy with all the history, not to mention the distance, but—”

  “I feel the same way,” I interrupted. Then, with a genuine, untrained, Drew smile, I said, “I think we owe it to Cháng’é.”

  She laughed. “The sheep or the goddess?”

  “I don’t care, as long as it means this doesn’t end.”

  Her lips tasted like taro and sunshine—three suns’ worth.

  Chloe CHAPTER 47

  FALLING FALLING FALLING

  “I’m so sorry to hear your grandmother’s sick,” my mother told Drew over dinner. We’d just informed my parents he was leaving tomorrow. “Please give us your address so we can send a care package.”

  “I got it, Mā,” I said quickly. “I’ll give her something from all of us.”

  “How lucky you are to have grown up with your grandma,” my mother said. “Cherish her while you can.”

  Drew looked at me with sympathetic eyes, and I knew he was remembering from my application that my grandparents had died before I was born: one at sea (the fisherman grandpa), two in an automobile accident (my dad’s parents), and one from leukemia (my mom’s mom, right before I was born).

  I returned the sympathy and hoped he knew it was for his grandma’s comments about his art, for the estranged grandfather he’d never met for the worst reasons, and, as I had recently learned from his operative application, for the grandparents he lost to lung cancer and heart disease when he was young.

  “This is the same grandma who taught you mahjong?” my mother continued, and I knew she was being kind—finally—but for some reason, I was on the edge of my seat. Knowing the truth behind the lies was making me antsy, though for Drew this was just another day.

  Stop sweating, I told myself even though, obviously, I had no control over that, not really.

  My father hadn’t said a word, and I was trying not to stare at him as if I could somehow see the cancer cells now that I knew they existed.

  “Would you have told me Grandma had leukemia if I’d been alive then?” I asked, my eyes on my father as I slowly chewed the steamed fish in my mouth.

  But my parents ignored me. My mother tried to change the topic by saying, “Andrew, earlier today I noticed the Christmas-tree ornaments you brought. How kě’ài! Where did you get them?”

  “He made them,” I said without missing a beat. “I named the one with antigravity boots Cháng’é.”

  Her eyes went wide at my first statement, but even wider at the second.

  “Maybe he’s a good influence on you after all,” my mother said, then turned to Drew. “Thanks for reminding my daughter where she comes from. I’m always telling her she needs to embrace her roots more.”

  “He is a good influence on me, but not because he reminds me I come from a toxic community that judges how I look, study, breathe.”

  “Jing-Jing!” my mother chastised. She cleared her throat, trying to clear my words from the table. “Well, I love that you have a healthy relationship with your culture, Andrew. Using it to inspire your little crafts—how wonderful!”

  I was tired of playing my part, and seeing all of them play theirs was making me sick.

  “He’s a talented artist,” I said.

  Drew placed a hand on my knee under the table, but I ignored it.

  My mother smiled at Drew, a little forced. “Well, that’ll serve you well in medicine—or dentistry, perhaps?—if you can get over the germy parts, of course.”

  “Or that would serve him well as an artist,” I said with a shrug.

  “Jing-Jing,” Drew said, gentle, as if asking me whether I was okay, but hearing that name come out of his soft, familiar lips frustrated me.

  “What?” I said, a little more harshly than I’d meant to.

  He leaned in close, much too close, and even though he was probably trying to get a private moment to ask what the hell was going on, his scent overwhelmed me. I’d fallen off his back simply because of my father’s presence not that long ago, but in this moment, with my parents’ and my lies infecting the air, our relationship, my brain, I gave in to my urges and pecked Drew on the lips.

  His head snapped back in shock, and though I understood he was just surprised, it also felt like rejection. My parents pretended not to see.

  Drew leaned back in, but not as close this time. “Are you okay? Do you want to go get some air?”

  How could I be okay when I’d just found out my father had cancer? And I couldn’t even talk about it! How could they not tell me? How could we ever be normal—whatever that was—in each other’s presence again?

  I felt myself crumbling. The room around me was crumbling too.

  I turned to Drew, my eyes pleading, not sure what I needed but convinced he knew how to fix this.

  “I think I should head home tonight,” he announced quietly to the table, his eyes downcast.
<
br />   “No! Why?” flew out of my mouth.

  My mother tsked at me. “If he wants to be by his grandmother’s side sooner, that’s noble.”

  Drew gave me a look that seemed to say, You need time with them, and I’m in the way.

  I shook my head at him. I had no fucking clue what I needed except to not be alone. And yes, if he left, I had my parents, but I would feel alone, which said a lot, and was precisely why I needed him here.

  He gave me that you’ve got this smile that used to make me feel confident, but in this situation made me panic. I was flailing, no ground beneath me and nothing to hold on to.

  “Are you sure you can get a flight out tonight?” my father asked, the first and only sign that he knew Drew was a human and in our presence.

  Drew nodded. “My cousin works for United. Don’t worry about me.” Then he stood. “Thank you, Wang Ǎyí, Shǔshú, for your hospitality.”

  My father sniffed loudly, wiping his nose with his napkin, and my mother nodded with a tight-lipped smile.

  “Safe travels,” my father said.

  “Best wishes to your grandmother and family,” my mother said.

  I followed Drew out of the kitchen in a stupor.

  My parents were completely silent and obviously eavesdropping as Drew packed up the rest of his things and rolled his bag to the front door. So we were silent too, and I waited until we were outside before blurting, “Don’t go. I need you here.”

  “I’ll stay if that’s really what you want, but I’m in the way,” he said gently, caressing the side of my face with his hand. “I may not be able to pop back in, but I’m still here for you. You can call or text anytime.”

  I managed a nod. “I thought you’d want me to tell them about you. Your art.”

  “Not like this.” Then, with pained eyes, he surprised me by saying, “I think when you tell them—not just about me, but more so about your dad’s cancer—it should be when you’re sure, calm, and ready. If you want to tell them now, okay, it’s your choice, but…” His gaze dropped. “When I talked to my parents, it was in a ball of emotion, and sometimes I wonder if that’s why it spiraled out of control. This is obviously not the same thing, but I don’t want you to be chewed up by regret.”

  “Okay,” I said, with little emotion. I was too spent.

  “Okay,” he said, equally devoid of sentiment. Maybe he was in operative mode, assessing my situation and churning through data.

  But then he leaned down and scooped me into the air, which, ironically, grounded me.

  “It’ll be okay,” he whispered next to my ear.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re that strong.”

  In one swift movement, he put me down, pressed his lips to mine firmly but quickly, and then rolled his way down the driveway. He didn’t have to leave my side yet—he hadn’t even called an Uber—but I let him go because I didn’t want him to see my face. Because the tears were falling falling falling. And no one was there to catch them this time.

  Drew

  I wanted to hold her close. Dry her tears. Shield her from everything that caused her stress and pain.

  It took all my nerve to keep walking down her driveway and not run back. I hoped I was right that her confusion was because of my presence, not in spite of.

  I’m helping her I’m helping her I’m helping her…

  Then why did it feel like the opposite? Why did it seem like all the options now and in the future led to misery for everyone involved?

  They’re not happy even with Andrew, said a voice in my head, one that sounded like a mash-up of my mother’s and father’s voices. Good luck impressing them as Drew. Maybe that’s why you ran, not because you’re trying to help her.

  By the time I looked back, Chloe was gone.

  Chloe CHAPTER 48

  HOURGLASS

  “What was that?” my mother asked when I returned to the table.

  Had she actually noticed my spiraling? Sometimes I forgot that when she wanted to, she could see me.

  “He was trying to get back to his sick grandmother, and you were so selfish to want him to stay,” she clarified.

  Oh.

  I said nothing.

  “Thank you for staying behind, Jing-Jing,” my father said. “I’m glad we’ll have a little more time together.”

  Please just tell me.

  But he didn’t. And I also didn’t spill what I knew, because I was a hot mess of emotions right now, and I trusted Drew. Or maybe I was just a coward who couldn’t stand how my parents already looked at me, even without knowing I’d invaded their privacy earlier today.

  “So kind, caring about his family like that,” my mother muttered into her rice. Then she looked up at me. “I’m glad you found a nice boy with such a promising future. Certainly makes me worry less.”

  “Me too,” my father said—mostly to his bowl, but still.

  “Yeah, me three,” I answered. He just may not have the exact “promising future” you were hoping for.

  In the silence that followed, I could hear the sand passing through the hourglass, counting down the time I had left before the consequences bit me in my tired ass.

  December 26, 10:32 p.m. PST

 

  Why’d you have to go?

 

  I’m sorry

  I thought it was for the best

  Pause.

  Do you want me to come back?

  I could say I missed my flight

  Another pause.

  I don’t know

  Longest pause.

  Yes and no

  Maybe I just need to have a good night’s sleep and I’ll feel better in the morning

  I’m so tired but can’t seem to fall asleep

  I’ve already counted so many Chang’e sheep, but… nothing

  A little help?

  Hmm

  How about a sheep being chased by a piece of stinky tofu?

  Poor guy!

  The sheep or the tofu?

  Because the tofu just wants to be friends

  And then there’s Tiger Balm sheep, who carries it on him and uses it to cure everything

  He’s currently trying to wipe some on Stinky Tofu to help him smell like spicy menthol instead of feet

  Does Tiger Balm sheep resemble an old Chinese dad in an undershirt, sitting on a white turned-over bucket, cooling himself with a circular fan?

  Of course

  I’m glad you got that one

  Wasn’t sure you would

  I’ve been around the Chinese block once or twice

  I used to work at our local Chinese grocery store

  And I already knew that because of your application

  This is fun

  Another falling asleep tip…

  I have a xiao zhentou I hug

  A little pillow? How little?

  Perfect cuddle size. And it has Toucan Sam on it

  I used to love Froot Loops as a kid because they’re colorful (I’ve always been more artist than food critic), and the pillow was a present from Jordan

  I may love where the pillow came from more than the pillow itself…

  But I’ll get you your own xiao zhentou

  Then I guess mine would need to be string cheese themed

  Either have a picture on it or be shaped like one

  Ooh maybe peelable?

  Long pause.

  I miss you

  I… may have been typing that and deleting it and typing it again

  Thanks for saying it first

  I may have been typing and deleting something else

  Three words

  Chang’e. Has. Diarrhea.

  You should keep her out of your rotation for the rest of the night

  She ate too much Sichuan food

  Maybe that’s why you didn’t fall asleep earlier

  You’re ridiculous

  Sleep loose

  ♥

  And Chloe?

  It’ll be o
k

  Someway somehow pieces will fall

  And even though it doesn’t feel like it, you will have some control over parts of it

  It’s just too fresh for you to see all that right now

  Okay

  Thanks

  ♥

  Chloe CHAPTER 49

  WANG DENTAL PALACE

  December 27

  I hated spit and pus and blood, not to mention the screeching noises and scent of sterilization, but I went with my parents to the office the next day. Sunday. I wasn’t sure if the Kuos had blacklisted us from all church activities or if we were hiding our faces because we had “no face,” but either way, I needed to rack up mooncake points. Lots of them.

  And yet, once I was in the back room of Wang Dental Palace preparing to pour Mrs. Lee’s impression, I regretted my decision to come here today.

  I gloved and goggled up, sprayed down her impression with way too much CaviCide disinfectant, then prepared the yellow stone mixture. My parents would be so disappointed to learn I’d forgotten the composition of the stone—calcium something?—but they should just be grateful I wasn’t gagging like I had the first time.

  I turned on the… vibrating machine—almost called it a vibrator, but no—and pressed the impression tray to it, my hand and the rest of me shaking with each rapid pulse. It made me feel numb, maybe a little invincible in a weird way, like time had slowed but I was still at full speed, Flash-style. Even though it was gross that I was holding a saliva-covered object that was a negative rendering of someone’s teeth, I did kind of like pressing the thick stone mixture to the impression with my spatula and seeing the vibrations turn it to flowing liquid. Watching molecules shift before your eyes—that was the kind of science I could get on board with, though fewer bodily fluids would be great, please.

  As I hit my rhythm scooping and oozing the stone into the impression’s nooks and crannies, I pictured using this method to create a 3-D Cháng’é.