by Diana Ma
“The U.S. didn’t legalize same-sex marriage until recently,” I admit.
“See, that’s my point.” His feet churn the pedals harder. “When I was in the U.S. for college, I met Americans who think of the U.S. as a modern, progressive country and China as stuck in the past. Like China never left the time of the Cultural Revolution when being gay was criminalized and punished. But we’re changing and growing like any other country. That’s why I think your director doesn’t have the whole story.”
We pedal in silence past pagodas and stone bridges as I think about what he said. He’s right that Jake doesn’t know the China that Eric knows, but maybe I don’t either. I certainly didn’t know about lesbian Buddhist and Daoist nuns in ancient China. It’s pretty cool that Eric knows all this history. Maybe that was his major in college. “By the way, where did you go to college?”
“Stanford.”
My eyebrows rise. “Most guys I know would’ve led with that.” And worked it into the conversation about a dozen times by now.
“I’m lucky that my parents could afford to send me there,” Eric says. “It would’ve been cheaper for me to go to college in China, but Stanford has a good sustainability program.”
“Is that what you majored in?”
“Hey, I think it’s your turn to steer. Want to trade places?”
It’s obvious that he’s avoiding my question, but I decide to let it slide. “You bet.”
He gets up at the same time I do, and the boat tilts dangerously. We both sit down again.
“Um,” I say, “why don’t you slide under and I’ll go, uh, over?” My face burns. Did I really just say that out loud? It didn’t sound quite so suggestive in my head.
Eric’s face is bright red. “Good idea.”
Gingerly, I stand and try to edge over to the driver’s seat without actually touching him. At the same time, he tries to scoot under my crouched body to the passenger seat.
I can’t explain how it happens, but suddenly I’m awkwardly perched over Eric, hands braced on either side of his body. My chest constricts in panic as he stares at me, wide-eyed, for a beat, his breath puffing hotly against my face. Then he abruptly ducks into the passenger seat, leaving me free to sink into the driver’s seat.
My heart beats fast, and my face is a perspiring mess. Carefully, we avoid looking at each other. And that’s when I remember Ken. Shit. How could I have broken up with my boyfriend just twenty-four hours ago and be all flustered and sweaty over another guy already? A guy who thinks my mom stole a painting from his family.
“Business,” Eric says abruptly.
I look at him in surprise. “What?”
“You asked me before what I majored in,” he clarifies, “and I majored in business, but I did take some classes on sustainability.” Then he reddens. “To tell you the truth, Stanford’s not even where I really wanted to go. That would be UCLA. I applied and got into their environment and sustainability graduate program, but I ended up deferring my admission and coming back home.” He starts to pedal without looking at me. “I didn’t even tell my parents that I’d applied or gotten in.”
The funny thing is that I applied and got into UCLA too, for my undergraduate studies, and I also deferred my admission. Except my experience is just the opposite of Eric’s. Lost in thought, I begin pedaling again. I’m pursuing my dreams against my parents’ wishes. He’s sacrificing his dreams to fulfill what he thinks his parents want. “I get it,” I say. “Your parents wouldn’t have approved, right?”
But he shakes his head. “No. That’s not it. They would have supported my decision.” He slows down his pedaling. “It’s just that they sacrificed so much for me and invested in my education, you know? I feel I owe it to them to come back and help with the business. Plus, Mimi . . .”
“Mimi what?” I prompt.
Eric averts his eyes and mumbles something in Chinese. Then he says, “I messed up.” He meets my eyes. “I told my parents that Mimi is hanging out with Alyssa. I shouldn’t have said anything, but it just slipped out. Then Nai Nai found out.”
I suck in my breath. “That does sound bad.” I don’t have the heart to say that tattling on Mimi wasn’t cool. Besides, it’s clear he knows that already.
“It gets worse,” he says glumly. “Nai Nai flipped out and even threatened to disown Mimi. That’s when my dad got into it with my grandmother. He said that it was his money in the first place, and he wasn’t about to disown Mimi because of her choice in friends. Mom tried to keep the peace, but it was too late.” He winces as if it’s a painful memory. “Dad said he regretted that his money got Nai Nai the social status to indulge in such a petty war with the Sung/Chua family. You would not believe the yelling after my father said that to my grandmother. My family usually gets along, but now it’s a complete mess, and it’s all my fault.”
“Oh, wow, Eric! I’m so sorry.”
“I tried to apologize to Mimi, but she won’t take my calls. I just want to see her and explain. It’s why I texted you.”
Right. I’d almost forgotten the plan. Why we’re here in the first place. Eric and I are nothing but collaborators. I yank on the steering wheel to turn us back toward the dock. “We should be getting back. I want to rest up before tonight.”
He nods. “That’s a good idea.”
Anything I felt between us was just an illusion. My heart twists painfully. Eric wants me to impersonate Alyssa so he can talk to Mimi. But that’s OK, I tell myself. I want Eric’s help too. He knows where Alyssa will be tonight. And I need to talk to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Later that night, my driver drops me off at the northwest exit of the Tuanjiehu subway station, where I’ve arranged to meet Eric. He’s there waiting for me, wearing another beautifully tailored suit that makes the one I had to wear on set look like a clown costume. Although I’ll bet anything that Eric would’ve pulled off my suit somehow. The thought makes me grumpy.
“Ni hao,” Eric greets me with the Chinese phrase that translates literally into “you good” but pretty much means “hi.”
“Ni hao,” I reply.
A man jostles me as he hurries by, causing me to clutch my wide-brimmed hat to my head. It’s still not much of a disguise, but it’s still less conspicuous than wearing sunglasses at night. Fortunately, the hat seems to do the trick, and the man barely looks at me.
“Come on,” Eric says. “Let’s get out of here.”
As we walk down the street, I’m bathed in the heavy warmth of the night air. Eric hugs my arm closer to him, sending shivers of delight down my spine. It’s such a natural gesture for him, and it’s actually pretty nice.
But I wonder what it means. Chinese people my age seem comfortable with physical touch without it necessarily meaning anything romantic. In contrast, Americans like me are all or nothing. We either don’t touch, or else there’s a sexual implication. Which, maybe, I wouldn’t mind so much if he hadn’t accused my mother of being a thief.
About ten minutes later, we reach a trendy area of huge glass buildings and jumbotrons. Eric tells me that we’re in the Sanlitun area, known for its shopping, food, and nightclubs. In awe, I take in the great swaths of light and colorful signs. Some of the shops are ones I recognize, but bigger and brighter than any I’ve ever seen, like they’ve been pumped up on steroids.
Eric comes to a stop at a tall, sleek building with no windows on the bottom floors, though the top floor is lit up like a sparkler. Two burly guys in suits are standing at the metal double doors of the building, and they’re eyeing us skeptically. I don’t blame them. This place looks über posh. Eric might fit in a place like this, but I certainly don’t in my floral print sundress, sandals, and big hat. I wish I’d packed something more nightclub appropriate before I’d left LA, but I didn’t know I’d be impersonating a rich socialite to get into a club.
Nerves jangling through my body, I walk up to the doormen with Eric. With clammy fingers, I take off my hat to reveal my face, and the guards s
traighten up immediately. “Chua xiao jie!” one of them exclaims. Ms. Chua. It worked. He thinks I’m Alyssa.
I’m about to launch into a convoluted tale about sneaking out the back and then changing clothes because, obviously, I’m wearing different clothes than what the real Alyssa would be wearing, when Eric nudges me none too subtly. Right. We agreed that I shouldn’t say too much. Alyssa Chua doesn’t need to explain. She just goes where she wants.
The inside is echoing marble floors and a large foyer with a bank of elevators. The interior of the elevator is mirrored, so I take my hat off and try to deal with the hat-head situation by combing my hair with my fingers before deciding it’s useless and jamming the hat back on. Anyway, now that I got us into the club, I don’t need to pretend to be Alyssa anymore.
“You look fine,” Eric says.
I glower at him. “I definitely do not look fine for an exclusive nightclub!”
Unabashed, he grins and pushes the button for the top floor. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t,” I say. “I’m here for my own reasons, remember?” The only way to get to the bottom of the mystery of why my mom left Beijing is to start demanding answers from the people who might have them. Starting with Alyssa Chua.
As soon as the elevator door opens, I’m hit by a disorienting wave of noise and flashing disco lights. The music is low, so the bulk of the noise comes from the constant clink of ice cubes in cocktail glasses and laughter from the crowd of insanely beautiful people. I mean, they don’t even look real. My stomach twinges with nerves as they give Eric and me only a cursory glance before turning back to their conversations and drinks. Every single person here is wearing haute couture, and I realize it wouldn’t have mattered even if I’d packed something to wear to a club. Nothing I own remotely resembles anything this crowd is wearing.
My fingers dig into the cheap fibers of my sun hat. “You’re sure Alyssa is here?” I ask Eric as I take off my hat.
“Yes.” He points to a bank of windows where the crowd is the thickest. “There she is. Alyssa owns this club.”
What? Alyssa is only nineteen and she owns her own club? My eyes adjust to the play of lights and shadows, and I see Alyssa. She’s up on a platform, sitting on an ornate chair, and surrounded by admirers. As I watch, she laughingly throws her arms around two young men glowering at each other. I’m too far away to hear what she says to them or to see her clearly, but even from this distance, one thing is more certain than ever: Alyssa and I couldn’t be less alike. I’m in an off-the-rack floral-print sundress, and she’s wearing an impossibly chic white dress with clean, elegant lines and a gem-studded choker. I’m keeping Eric at a wary distance, and she’s flirting with two guys at once. Yes, there might be some similarities in our features, but I’m willing to bet that’s all we have in common. Seeing Alyssa holding court only makes me aware of how much I don’t belong in her world.
“Are you going to talk to her now?” Eric asks me, but we’re interrupted before I can answer.
“Eric!” A cute girl with a pixie haircut is storming over to us, anger sparking in her eyes. “What are you doing here? How did you even get in?”
“Hi, Mimi,” Eric says with a sheepish smile. “I came to apologize actually.”
But Mimi isn’t looking at him anymore. She’s looking at me with eyes wide in shock.
“Ah. Gemma, this is my little sister, Mimi,” Eric says. “Mimi, this is Gemma.”
Dazed, Mimi says, “She looks like—”
“Alyssa,” he finishes with a slight grimace. “That’s because Gemma is Alyssa’s cousin.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mimi,” I say, wishing she’d do something other than stare at me in that glassy-eyed way.
Mimi glances over to where Alyssa is holding court, as if to confirm that Alyssa’s there and I’m here.
My eyes also flicker over to Alyssa, and as if pulled by the weight of my gaze, she looks in my direction. Immediately, Alyssa’s ruby-red lips pucker into a pout. Then she turns her back to me in a clear snub, throwing back her head and letting out a peal of laughter in response to something one of her admirers whispers into her ear. So much for cousinly affection. The tone of her last pink note should have clued me in to the kind of welcome I’d get, but disappointment still pricks at my heart.
I look away, only to encounter Mimi’s sour scrutiny. “You’re Chinese?” she asks.
Why is she staring at me like I’m an American bumpkin who’s just crashed her exclusive little party in my rustic clothes? “Yes. I’m Chinese.” Self-consciously, I discard my hat on the nearest table.
“Wai guo ren,” Mimi says in an aside to Eric.
“Mimi!” Eric’s eyes narrow in warning. “That’s enough.”
My cheeks flush. I want to like Eric’s sister, but hearing her call me a “foreigner” doesn’t exactly endear her to me. “Wo shi zong guo ren.” I try not to sound defensive as I tell Mimi that I’m Chinese, but from the worried look Eric shoots me, I’m not sure I succeed.
“Chinese American,” she retorts.
“But still Chinese,” Eric says firmly, and my heart lifts.
Mimi ignores him. “Does Nai Nai know about her? She gave me enough grief about hanging out with Alyssa, thanks to you and your big mouth! I can only imagine what she said about you two! You’ve got some nerve warning me about Alyssa when you’re with her!”
“Nothing is going on between us!” Eric flushes. “There’s nothing to tell Nai Nai or anyone else. Gemma came here to see Alyssa, and I came here to see you.”
“That’s right,” I confirm.
Mimi rakes me with a scornful glare and then flounces away.
As soon as she leaves, Eric heaves out a sigh. “Wow. Sorry about that. I’ve never seen Mimi so . . .”
“Snobby?” I say before I think. Oops. Maybe that was a little tactless.
He winces, but doesn’t contradict me. “It’s not like her,” he says helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. Coming here has just made things worse.” He attempts a wry smile. “Still want to talk to Alyssa?”
“Speaking of making things worse . . .” My eyes drift to where Alyssa is planting a kiss on the cheek of one of the guys vying for her attention. Mimi, who’s close to Alyssa now, bends down to her ear and whispers something. Alyssa isn’t looking at me, but there’s a frown on her face that leaves no doubt that I’m the topic of their conversation. “Yeah, I still want to talk to her.” And this time, I’m not leaving until I get answers about my mom.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I eye Mimi, her face screwed tight with anger. “It’s probably not a good idea.”
I make my way across the room, feeling Alyssa’s eyes on me the whole time. At last, I reach the foot of Alyssa’s platform. The crowd surrounding her falls silent as they catch sight of me. Alyssa herself rises from her throne-like chair, her lips pressed together in a harsh line. Heart beating fast, I climb the steps up to her.
Then we’re face-to-face.
“Come with me,” Alyssa says tightly, leaving Mimi and her other admirers staring after us as she leads me to a black door behind her chair. It seems Alyssa doesn’t want an audience for this little chat. Which suits me just fine.
She flings open the door and practically slams it shut after we step inside. The room is hung with bright orange silk tapestry, and round, embroidered pillows are strewn all over the floor around low, black lacquered tables. It’s a place designed for lounging, but Alyssa doesn’t sit down. Instead, she whirls to face me. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demands. “I warned you not to trust Eric Liu!”
“Why?” I ask, watching her face closely. “Because our grandfather betrayed his grandfather during the Cultural Revolution? Or because our grandfather’s betrayal led the Red Guard to find a Tang dynasty painting from Wu Zetian’s collection? Or is it that the painting almost cost Eric’s grandfather his life?”
Her face drains of color.
She knows about th
e painting. The painting my mother supposedly stole. My pulse runs a jagged course from my heart to my throat. “You know more about why my mother was cut off from the family than you’ll admit.”
Face still pale, Alyssa says, “And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did my mother steal that painting?” All the air seems to rush away from my lungs as I wait for her answer.
She flings a word at me like a throwing knife to my chest. “Yes.”
And just like that, all I thought I knew is gone. “Is that why she was banished? Why? What could that painting possibly mean to you all?”
The color rushes back into her face all at once. “You know nothing! You don’t even know what it means that your mother stole that painting, do you?”
“Then tell me!” I clench my hands, my mind writhing in denial. Why would my mother steal that painting? “Tell me what it means that my mother took that painting, because I sure as hell don’t know!”
“Think! Your mother stole a painting that destroyed her father’s rival! A painting too dangerous to have in your possession. Don’t you understand what she did? The danger she put our family in?”
“D-dangerous?” I stammer. “But I thought it was only dangerous to have classical art during the Cultural Revolution.”
“Typical American,” she says scathingly. “You have so little understanding of history.” She raises her eyes skyward in exasperation. “That painting isn’t just classical art. It’s a priceless original from the Tang dynasty. A painting said to have been commissioned by Empress Wu, the woman who dared to be a ruler! You have no idea how dangerous owning that painting would be. That kind of wealth and cultural history would be sure to draw the attention of the government.”
I struggle to understand, feeling like I’m groping for pieces of a puzzle in the dark. “But you’re rich, and you don’t seem to be in danger.”
Alyssa purses her lips. “Again, your ignorance is unbelievable!”