by Gloria Chao
My cheeks hurt.
“If you’re okay with it,” I said, “I want to tell my parents about us. About everything. Next week. When I come home for Chinese New Year.” I was flying into Palo Alto next Friday evening, Chinese New Year’s Day.
His eyes widened. “Yeah?”
I nodded.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” he said, tapping my knee with a finger. “Are you okay with the fact that they will definitely be upset?”
I sighed. “I’m going to lose them one day with or without you. It’s inevitable. My relationship with them is already cracked, and it’s been waiting to fully break for a long time. At some point I’m going to have to be myself with them. I’m ready now, with you.”
His eyes glistened. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Because you’re my kind of fish ball.”
He chuckled through his tears, then laced his fingers through mine and brought my hand up to kiss it. “Infinite mooncake points to House of Chloe. And… you’re my kind of fish ball too. A meatball. Wait, I didn’t mean it that way—”
“I know,” I said with a laugh. “This isn’t my first interaction with you.”
When his lips met mine, I somehow managed to hit pause in my brain, putting off the storm on the horizon and focusing on the positives of the huge decision we’d just made. I was trying. Moving forward. The end result might not be what I wanted, but I was fighting.
He gently sucked my lower lip, then broke away to nibble his way from my neck to my earlobe. And I forgot not only what was coming but my own name.
Voicemail from Chloe’s mother
February 6
Jing-Jing, you can’t ignore me forever! If you keep this up, I really will fly out there! Tomorrow! Surprise you at your dorm! And as punishment, I will bring you three pairs of those underwear you hate! [laugh]
Call me back. I… I just want to talk to you. I’m… thinking of you is all. Okay?
Chloe CHAPTER 65
COLD
February 7
I started to get cold feet about telling my parents once Drew left Chicago and my previously warm bed turned cold. And my mother’s voicemails weren’t helping.
If I had been on the verge of peeing my sweat-soaked undies introducing my parents to fake Drew, well, now I was going to need some Pepto-Bismol.
I wanted to both delay the conversation and rip off the soggy, smelly Band-Aid immediately. The anticipation was almost worse than what was to come. Only almost—because I was ninety-six percent sure the hundreds of scenarios I imagined at night lying in bed were plausible. Hence the Pepto-Bismol. And the other four percent? Was me imagining my parents embracing Drew with open arms and telling me they were thrilled I was happy. That was even more painful than imagining—predicting?—their anger and ultimatums.
I was dreading Chinese New Year more than my mom dreaded menopause. And I was slowly running out of my defense-mechanism humor.
CHINESE NEW YEAR
Drew CHAPTER 66
BUNS
February 12
Chinese New Year fell on a Friday this year, which meant the most lucrative rental night with the highest demand was Thursday, Chinese New Year’s Eve, for the big family reunion dinner. My New Year’s Eve client was a kind, quiet, twenty-nine-year-old girl who wasn’t interested in being in a relationship but was tired of all the comments from family. She had asked me not to have physical contact, but to simply “be present and nice,” which was so easy compared to some jobs that I felt bad about the rate she was paying.
And because that job had been a single-nighter, I had a different client the night of Chinese New Year, one who hadn’t been able to afford peak New Year’s Eve pricing. So far, things were going smoothly. Well, save for the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about how Chloe’s plane was landing around this time, Chloe was now calling an Uber, and, oh, probably about home, and then, sweet Mother of God, telling her parents about me.
Luckily, the Rent for Your ’Rents mission was straightforward: stop the parents and nosy aunt from bugging the client, Jeannie, about dating (more specifically, to stop them from telling her to dress more hip or learn how to flirt before she became “a leftover woman,” yikes). Jeannie was open to dating and had been in a few relationships this year, but none she was ready to “subject to the torture that is my family. Maybe when I’m engaged.”
Tonight I was a “future lawyer and art enthusiast” currently studying political science at Stanford, by the client’s request. (Since I was the first boy she was bringing home and she wasn’t sure what her family was looking for, she’d requested a Renaissance man to cover all the bases.) As I chatted about art history (yay), the Du family and I enjoyed a lovely dinner at a fancy Chinese fusion restaurant that served foie gras dumplings, Peking duck, and whole steamed fish, as well as the fancier loose-leaf tea that made me want to wrap my hands around my mug. Then, because Mr. Du claimed that the dessert at the restaurant was “just dreadful—all show and no taste,” we decided to drive across town to get dessert boba. This hadn’t been a planned part of our itinerary, but apparently Mr. Du’s disdain for fancy dessert was a recent development that his daughter didn’t know about.
I got the all clear just as we were parking. Because the evening was crisp and calm, we took a leisurely stroll around the lit-up shopping square before making our way to the best boba café in Palo Alto, and also one of the few that was open late.
As we neared the café, I was laughing at one of Mr. Du’s jokes when I heard, “Oh shit,” from a distance. I’d know that voice anywhere.
Don’t look. It wasn’t too late yet. I tried to pick up my pace, leading the Dus toward a fountain and away from the voice and café. It was almost an out-of-body experience as I pulled something out of my ass about the fountain’s historical significance.
As I yammered away, I glanced behind my shoulder to assess the situation, and Chloe’s frantic eyes met mine.
Chloe
Holy cannoli baloney guacamole. I swear, my mind fuzzed out for a moment, my vision blurring and my brain shutting off from overheating.
I knew Drew was on a job tonight, but they were supposed to be having dinner far from here, at a place we would never set foot in because it was “like flushing money down the toilet,” as my mother liked to say.
I tried to steer my parents into the closest shop, which was… a baby store, shit. And it was closed. Joke’s on me today, Universe—hope you’re getting a good laugh.
My mother pointed toward the café we’d trekked here for. “I need more buns, remember?” she said. “Kuo Ǎyí told me this place is the best.”
“You have so many buns already!” I motioned to her backside to try to get her to face away from Drew and his client. “See? Buns of steel!”
She chuckled and swatted my hand with hers. “Definitely not!” my mother joked back. “I’ve always been embarrassed by how small my buns are!”
But I barely heard her. Because I was panicking, sweating, about to yell “Fire!” if not for the fact that it was illegal.
Yes, obviously I was going to tell my parents the truth tonight anyway, but on my own terms, not with an epic explosion to rival Christmas Eve.
And to think, when I’d arrived home just an hour ago, my parents had been aglow asking me about Andrew and his family. We’d finally reached a peaceful, happy, albeit fake place, and I couldn’t even have that for one second.
Jing-Jing, we are happy for you and Andrew, my mother had said to me in the car on the way here. We wish we had behaved differently in the beginning, though I stand by my motivation of watching out for you. But… maybe I have some regrets too. Well, not regrets. But, just, well, I hope Andrew is not mad. Maybe I even wish he were here right now.
It had both warmed my heart and sunk it to my pelvic floor. How much of her fondness for him was based on his made-up history? How much was because of the real him? And in that moment, for a split second, I had wavered on my decision to tell them the truth, a teeny-tiny voice i
n my head whispering, Is it that bad to ride the wave I paid Rent for Your ’Rents for, just a little while longer?
But because of my mother’s love of buns, everything was a moment away from crashing into each other, quite literally. It hadn’t happened already only because my father was playing Sudoku on his phone and my mother was fumbling with her purse, trying to find the reusable plastic bags she kept in there. I had about three seconds to decide what to do. Before they looked up. Before they saw Drew. Couldn’t he just feign diarrhea and run away? To be fair, he had managed to divert his client’s family in the other direction briefly, but they were clearly antsy to get to the café now.
Without thinking and without knowing what else to do, I yelled, “Stop!” to my parents.
They indeed did stop, but then my mother said, “Andrew?”
Because Drew and his client’s family were close enough to have also heard me yell, they had stopped in their tracks too, looking over to see what the commotion was about. And even though Drew had his back to us, my mother apparently knew what his backside looked like. Maybe he had too many buns, although that hadn’t been a bad thing until now.
“Hunh?” my father said, still not looking up from his phone.
“Eh, are these friends of yours, Andrew?” the client’s mother asked.
My mother looked from Drew to me, confused. “Jing-Jing, you said he was spending today with his parents and flying out tomorrow!”
The client suddenly understood, panic taking over her face.
“These are the Wangs,” Drew said quickly. “And these are the Dus. Sorry, we’re in a rush, but it was so lovely to see you!”
He started to leave, but Mrs. Du said, “Honey, we can chat for a minute if you like. We’re not in a rush at all!”
My father finally looked up. “Who’s this? Oh! Andrew, why are you here? And why are you wearing a Stanford shirt?”
“Nice to meet you,” I said to the Dus as I pulled on both my parents’ arms in the direction of our car. “We have to get going.”
“The buns, Jing-Jing!” My mother yanked her arm from mine. “What’s going on here…” She trailed off, and now Drew, the client, and I were all trying to push the parents along.
Then, suddenly, my mom pointed a finger at Drew. “Tiān āh!” She looked back at me, frantic. “He’s cheating on you!”
“No, no,” I said quickly as Drew and the girl joined in. “No one’s cheating,” she said as Drew garbled, “You’ve got it all wrong.”
But that was all drowned out by the girl’s aunt—well, I was guessing it was her aunt, based on age and looks, et cetera—who was saying, very loudly, “I knew it was too good to be true!” Then, to the girl’s mother: “I told you Jeannie was too naive! This is what happens to good girls like her! They get played!”
My mother jumped in and snapped back, “No, being innocent is a good thing!” because that was what was most important right now.
There was no easy solution here, but in the hopes of saving Drew’s job and the client’s mission, I offered up, “I’m the ex—I just haven’t told my parents yet.” Since I was about to spill all anyway, what was one more lie? I could take the hit for now and reverse in a minute, once it was just my parents and me.
My mother exploded. “You let him get away? Zěnme gǎo de, Jing-Jing!” she yelled just as my father, surprisingly, demanded an explanation: “Shénme huí shì?”
“And he moved on this quickly?” My mother shook a finger at Drew. “Shame on you!”
My father’s expression was more dejected than angry. “What happened?” he asked again, in English this time.
I shot the girl’s family a pained expression, hoping they would take the cue and give us some privacy, but the aunt took a step closer and the parents rooted their feet.
The aunt crossed her arms over her chest and asked suspiciously, “When did you break up?”
But her question was buried by my mother’s Mandarin exclamations. When the aunt tried to ask again, my mother yelled out, “Wait, then why is Andrew coming over tomorrow?”
Even though the odds were low, I had told her he would be joining us for a belated New Year’s dinner on the off chance that my parents would be interested in getting to know the real him after the truth came out tonight.
“He’s not,” I lied quickly. “I didn’t know how to tell you yet.”
“Then why did I buy so much beef, Jing-Jing? You need to tell me these things! And you let me go on and on about him in the car like a fool! Oh, my face is so red. And, my goodness”—she threw a hand over her forehead dramatically—“we tossed away Hongbo for this!” She was spiraling fast.
“When did you break up,” the aunt demanded, through her teeth, more forceful this time. The girl’s parents looked embarrassed but also curious for the answer.
“We have to go,” I said, just as the girl answered, “Thanksgiving, right before Andrew and I met.”
Oh no.
My parents started yelling at the same time. I was ready to drop to my knees and beg the Dus for some privacy, but they were already backing away. Well, except for the aunt, who tried to stay behind, but, thank God, the parents ushered her along. Drew hung back for a second, unsure whether or not to leave me, but I hissed at him to go; his loitering only made him look more suspicious.
He had a mess to clean up, and right now, I had to mop up my own.
I dragged my parents over to a bench and sat them down. “I need to tell you something.”
“Yes, you bet your pìgu you have to tell us things!” my mother yelled as my father said, more calmly, “Start talking.”
“Okay, but just listen. To the end. Please.”
* * *
They listened to the end, but even though I didn’t know what to expect, their reaction was not one of the many scenarios that had played out in my head earlier this week.
As soon as I finished telling them I had rented Andrew, then fallen for him, and that he was currently on another assignment, my father asked, “When did you become such a liar?” at the same time my mother said, “So many lies, Jing-Jing! How are we supposed to know what’s real?”
“This. Right now. What I’m telling you now is real.”
My mother threw her arms in the air. “But this is the most preposterous thing you’ve told us yet!”
Yes, I slowly realized. Jesus, how had I gotten here?
This is why you’re coming clean now, I reminded myself. To do better.
My parents were staring at me like they didn’t know who I was, which was accurate.
I explained, “I did all this because you weren’t listening to me, and I didn’t know how to make you see. But I cared about you and our relationship, and I wanted to find a way to escape Hongbo without fighting. It wasn’t right, but I hired Andrew out of love. Just like you two set me up with Hongbo out of”—I couldn’t quite say “love”—“your concern for me. But it wasn’t right. Just like how I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“Lies, out of love?” my mother threw back. “Those contradict each other.”
“You guys haven’t told me about Bǎbá’s prostate cancer, supposedly out of love,” I said quietly.
Neither of them said anything.
“Bā, are you okay?” I blurted. I’d bottled up my feelings for too long, and they were spilling out now. “You know I love you, right? I’m here—I want to support you through this. You don’t have to hide things like this from me. In fact, you shouldn’t; it makes me worry more because I don’t know any of the details.”
“You wouldn’t understand, not until you have kids,” my father replied.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
My mother was looking at me like she couldn’t swallow my past lies and was silently choking on them.
The knife in my heart twisted.
Then, for the first time, I ignored that my heart was injured and bleeding, and I spoke from it anyway.
“Mǎmá, Bǎbá, I love you both. So much. Whic
h is why I’m here, trying. I’m sorry for the lies in the past. I promise I’m going to be honest with you from now on, even when it’s painful. I hope…” I exhaled. “I hope you can one day do the same.”
Their faces were a mix of shock and anger at what I’d done. As those emotions worked themselves out, I left before they could say anything. I knew they would need time, and I didn’t want to hear words that would be said in the heat of the moment and impossible to forget.
Clean slate. Take one.
February 13, 12:23 p.m. PST
Is everything okay with your client?
I’m so sorry
Yes, yes, you played the jilted ex perfectly
More importantly, how are your parents?
They still want you to come over for dinner tonight
Seriously???
That’s a good sign, right?
Well tbh I’m not sure what their motivations are
They’re not talking all that much
Could be they want to get to know you
Could be to confront you (sorry I hope not )
Um could be we really just have too much beef
Ok so prepare for anything?
Yeah
Maybe don’t bring any pears
That I can do
Come at 6
This will suck and I’m very sorry in advance but…
I can’t wait to see you
I can’t wait to see YOU!
Drew CHAPTER 67
DREW CHAN
February 13
I have been to many Chinese New Year dinners, all of them awkward, but compared to tonight, the others were a 1950s-television-family gathering.
Today I was dressed in a red button-up and slacks, with a fun Pollock-like tie I’d painted myself, and no glasses: a.k.a. full Drew. And Drew had brought non-company-sanctioned Chinese New Year gifts: a Zhōngguó jié wall hanging I’d knotted myself and red envelopes filled with some of my creations (paper stars, moons, and a sheep for Chloe).