Bonjour Shanghai

by Isabelle Laflèche

  “Right.” I wave the waitress over and proceed to order a burger, a salad, two orders of fries, and two iced teas, our usual lunch order. Jake shakes his head disapprovingly, but doesn’t stop me. He seems distracted, lost in thought.

  “So, listen, I know things are really tough,” I say. “Do you want to tell me about it? Is it to do with your money problems?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not blind, Jake. You’ve been acting really strange. The way we left the Russian Tea Room all of a sudden, then running out of the school café that day. That was a poker website on your laptop, wasn’t it? And now you’re not eating? Don’t just pretend everything’s fine. Tell me what’s up.” He looks away. “You can trust me like a sister, Jake. You can tell me anything.”

  He looks around the room and wipes his face with his hand, then absentmindedly twists his napkin. “It’s complicated, Clem. Really, really frickin’ complicated.”

  “Okay, well I want to help you any way I can.”

  His eyes begin to water. Tears run down his cheeks. He lets his face fall into his hands and begins to sob. He’s full-on crying, with fits of tears and sniffling and snorting. People next to us stare.

  “I’m in deep trouble, Clem.” He picks up his discarded eyeglasses and stares at them.

  The two men in New York whom I care for the most — both in trouble at the same time.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The worst. Major financial crisis. I’m going down in flames.” He makes an explosion noise.

  “What happened?” I place a hand on his.

  “Where do I begin?” He takes a breath and wipes his nose with his napkin. “I’m caught in a downward spiral to hell, that’s what happened. Credit card debt, rent, expenses, and …” His voice trails off. He looks out onto the street, down at his reading glasses, anywhere but at me. “And a massive gambling debt.” He blows his nose hard. The woman sitting on the banquette next to us gives him a dirty look. He glares back at her, making her look away.

  “Is it that bad?”

  He nods. “It’s really bad. Online poker. I got into it just for fun at first, as a distraction. Then I went to some clubs … but I lost big time. I’m so ashamed.” He rubs his eyes. I can tell he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately; he’s got dark circles around his eyes the size of poker chips.

  He shakes his head and lets out a long sigh. “I may have to drop out of school to get a full-time job.”

  “No!” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s far worse than I thought. The idea of losing Jake as a classmate makes me want to cry. All his incredible talent gone to waste.

  “I’m so sorry, Jake. Why didn’t you say something before? I could have tried to help you figure something out.”

  “It was easy money at first. It was great — my poker wins were helping to pay for stuff. Then I wanted to win more so I could expand my collection, hire a virtual assistant and a PR agency. That stuff’s expensive. And I thought if I made bigger bets, I could win money more quickly … but then I started losing. I racked up so much debt … it’s insane. I’m in deep trouble.”

  “Oh, Jake.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” he says. “I started borrowing money from a loan shark. They charge crazy-high interest, too. Some of it I used to pay off debts. Some of it I gambled away again. I’m in the hole. They’re nasty people, Clem. It’s … I’m scared.”

  “You mean scared for your life?” I say under my breath. I can’t believe I’m asking this question.

  “Something like that.” He mimes shooting himself in the head along with a sound effect, and our seat neighbour stands to ask for the cheque. I can’t say I blame her.

  I’m just sitting there, slack-jawed.

  I pray nothing bad happens to my friend and remember Michelle Wong’s advice: there’s a solution to every problem. There’s nothing we can’t overcome. We need to find a solution, fast. But what?

  “How about selling a few pieces from your collection, or some skirts like the one you made me? I could help you. We could contact some high-end boutiques.”

  “Pfft. You think I haven’t tried that? Do you know how many designers in New York City are trying to sell their stuff to boutiques? Or online? Way too many. Good luck!”

  “All right, I get the picture, but you’re not like everybody else, okay?”

  “Whatever, Clem. Whatever.” He’s not in the mood or situation to take my compliment. I’d better drop it.

  “So … what are these nasty people saying?” I ask.

  “That they want to break my legs.” Jake puts his glasses back on and smiles wryly.

  “What?” I hope he’s exaggerating.

  “They’ve threatened to go after my parents’ dry cleaning business if I don’t pay them back. I don’t know what to do. If my mom finds out, she’ll be devastated.”

  As the waitress arrives with our food, an idea flashes through my mind — a plan. But I decide to keep it to myself for now; I’ll need to think it through carefully before I say anything to Jake.

  “All right,” I say, picking up a fry, “for now, let’s focus on the solution rather than the problem.”

  “Oh, man, Clem, you sound like a preacher.” He eyes the plate of fries in front of him.

  “I’m just repeating what you told me a couple of days ago, remember? It doesn’t help to be negative. Not me, not you, and not Jonathan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I glance around the restaurant before whispering, “Jonathan’s being called to testify as a witness in a nasty criminal case.” I trust Jake with this information. And I really need to talk to someone about it.

  “Oh god, what about?”

  “His biggest client was arrested for sexual harassment and assault. He has to testify that he’s witnessed similar behaviour, and he’s really worried about it, because there’s probably going to be some backlash against him.”

  “Oh man, that sucks. I’m so sorry to hear that. And I’m sorry I didn’t even ask you how he’s doing. I’ve been so caught up in my own bullshit.”

  “It’s been rough on him,” I admit. “He’s barely slept in the last three days. He’s a wreck. And it’s sad that we can’t be together more before I leave for the other side of the world.”

  “You guys will get through this. It’s not like there’s an actual problem between the two of you. It’s just a bad situation.”

  I shrug. “I guess. Anyway, there’s a temporary mood lifter sitting on that plate right in front of you.”

  He stares at the truffle fries, reaches for one, dips it in the rich mayo, and smiles. The contrast between his huge basket of fries and the Eat More Kale sweatshirt he was wearing a few days ago makes me burst out laughing. I explain it to him and he laughs, too.

  Now we’re getting somewhere. His mood has lightened up, so I guess now’s a good time to mention Henry and his video. Before I even utter a word, though, my face turns bright red.

  “You can tell me anything, Clem. You know that, right? I mean, I just shared my entire dark side with you. It wasn’t easy,” Jake says.

  “Yes, I know … I met this student from China. His name is Henry; he studies at the Condé Nast Fashion Center. We met on Instagram.”

  “Okay. That’s nice. Is there something more I should know?”

  “Well, he’s been super friendly, sending me info about the school, but lately he’s become flirtatious …”

  “Oh, I see. Is he hot?”

  I stare down into my plate of fries, blushing some more. I’m also a bit tongue-tied. “Yeah, he is.”

  “Oh boy. I smell danger ahead.”

  “The thing is, he sent me this video … and it’s really beautiful and creative but a bit over-the-top and I’m just not quite sure what to make of it.…”

  I pull out my phone and press play. After the video ends. Jake closes his eyes and smirks. “Oh man, Clem. You’re in trouble.”

  Dear Henry, thank you for that
beautiful video. It’s AMAZING! I was speechless! You’re a talented storyteller and I can’t wait to see more of your work in person. I’m really looking forward to discovering Shanghai after seeing all of those jaw-dropping scenes and that mouth-watering street food. And all that refinement you shared! Wow! Thanks again for being so thoughtful.

  Your friend, Clem

  I try to make my response sound friendly, especially after what Jake said at lunch. The last thing I need right now is any more trouble.

  “Hey, babe, thanks a lot for stopping by before my next client gets here.”

  I’m at Jonathan’s photography studio on the Lower East Side. It’s an all-white space decorated very sparsely with a long, narrow wooden table, some mismatched chairs, a tiny kitchen, and an impressive shooting area complete with special lighting, reflective umbrellas, and large white screens.

  He kisses me tenderly and takes my hand. He looks more rested today than he did the other day at Joe Coffee, although he still has dark circles under his eyes.

  “Here, take a seat. Do you want something to drink?”

  “No thanks. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m surviving. I’m just a witness, after all, I’m not the accused or the victim.”

  “Just surviving? That’s a shame. With your talent and drive, you should be thriving.”

  He takes a seat across from me.

  “I know. I’m just feeling rotten about it. I want to do what’s right, but it’s not going to be good for me.”

  I lay my hand on his. “Just with this one client, though.”

  “This client holds the decision-making power over a lot of projects I’m involved in.”

  “But what about your reputation … for honesty and ethics?”

  He sighs, shakes his head, and crosses his arms. I can tell how worried he is about his business. This client pays most of the bills.

  “You’ve seen him behaving inappropriately?” I ask.

  “Not to that woman specifically, but to others, yeah. He’s one of those men who think the world revolves around them and that they can do whatever they want, including assault women, and get away with it. He’s narcissistic and controlling.”

  “He sounds disgusting.”

  “He is. And still, saying so under oath is going to cost me big time. I really can’t afford to have this happen right now.”

  “You’re resourceful. You’ll find other clients. There are plenty of upstanding men and women in powerful positions, and they’ll recognize your courage. You’ll have proven your character. That means a lot.”

  He stares at me so long I’m wondering if he thinks I’m foolish or crazy, then he puts his hand on my cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being so brave when I’m such a chickenshit. And for reminding me that I’m being a greedy jerk.”

  “That’s not what I said!”

  “You’re saying what I need to hear. Thanks for being you.”

  I smile and squeeze his hand.

  “And thanks for being here,” he says. “I tend to retreat from the world when things get tough. I’ve gotten used to figuring things out on my own. But talking to you has made me feel so much better.”

  “Don’t retreat, especially not from me, okay? Promise you’ll stop doing that.”

  “I promise.” He grins, and I melt.

  “Okay, good.”

  He stands up, pushes aside my bangs, and kisses my forehead.

  “I want to show you the new account I set up on WeChat,” I say, pulling out my phone. “It’s a Chinese social media app you can use to follow me when I’m in Shanghai.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll follow you anywhere, Clementine Liu.”

  He kisses me again, this time on the lips and with a lot more passion. I grab onto his sleeves and kiss him back, hard. His next client will be here any minute, so I hold on for as long as I can. I guess I’m the one being greedy now.

  Chapter Twelve

  “HEY, CLEMENTINE, I’M HOME!” Maddie’s voice echoes throughout the apartment.

  Maddie’s been away on a mission to connect with another fashion school in Europe. Dean James Williams, her boyfriend, joined her in Paris for the weekend.

  I run to greet her with a warm hug. I’ve missed her, especially her comforting presence and her amazing cooking. When she’s not around, I just eat avocado toast or cold cereal. Both my heart and my stomach are grateful she’s back.

  I left school early this afternoon to clean up the apartment. I’ve been hard at work removing the clutter from my room and vacuuming the carpets. I’ve been running the essential oil diffuser, so the aroma of fresh lavender wafts through the space. I also stocked up on Maddie’s favourite espresso and picked up fresh flowers at Trader Joe’s on my way home.

  Despite having just spent hours on a plane, Maddie looks radiant in a red-and-blue boho dress with flutter sleeves and delicate white embroidery. Her hair is pulled back in a high chignon tied with a silk ribbon. She’s also wearing colourful blue-and-red eyeglasses. My guess is that she picked up this stunning dress at some Paris flea market, like she always does. Maybe she’ll let me borrow it before I leave for Shanghai.

  I’m relieved she’s back. The last two weeks have been a roller coaster of highs and lows, with a Broadway show, a lawsuit, and a gambling debt thrown in. It’s been exhausting. But Maddie’s mere presence is already cheering me up.

  “So, how was your trip?” I ask, after she’s put down her things.

  “Amazing. Incredibly productive and so romantic. James booked this gorgeous boutique hotel for us in Saint-Germain. It was really special,” she says.

  I grin. I’m thrilled for Maddie. She deserves to be happy.

  “That sounds amazing. And the fashion school? Did you meet interesting people there?”

  “Oh, yes, that was the best part! We had good meetings, and some faculty members took us on a tour of local studios. You would have loved these teachers, Clementine. Many of them are into eco-fashion and sustainability — you know, all the topics you love.”

  I wish I could have been there. Those are the kind of conversations that make my spirit soar.

  “And my parents?” I ask hesitantly. “Did you see them, too?” Maddie’s close to my mom, and they always get together when she goes to Paris. I know they talk about me. Despite my mother’s diva-esque behaviour and gauche ways, I know she cares.

  “Yes, of course. We had lunch. They miss you, Clementine. Your dad is so excited about your going to Shanghai. And so proud! He’s told your entire extended family about it. I think it’s safe to say you’ll be getting a warm welcome.”

  This makes me think of Henry. That’s another warm welcome waiting for me over there. I’ve considered whether or not to tell Maddie about him and ultimately decided not to; it’s just a friendly exchange and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.

  “Here, my sweet cousin, I brought you back a little gift.” She pulls out a large white box with a red velvet ribbon. First the skirt from Jake and now this! I’m not having such a bad week.

  “Oh, Maddie, what did you do?”

  “It’s actually from your mom. We picked it out together.” This makes me smile. I need to stop being so hard on my mom.

  I open the box, and my pulse quickens. Inside is a multicoloured cross-body handbag delicately crafted out of strips of velvet and linen.

  “It’s gorgeous! I love it!”

  “I knew you would. It’s by a French designer from Toulouse. She only makes a handful of these bags, all stitched together by hand. It’s a one of a kind, like you.”

  I feel all warm inside. It’s not always easy being different, especially in the fashion school crowd. Sometimes I think I should try to blend in more, but my quirky ways always draw me back — it’s just who I am. And Maddie supports me in my uniqueness. “Thank you so much,” I say, slinging the bag across my chest and running over to the hallway mirror. “For ever
ything, Maddie.”

  “My pleasure. That bag is so you,” she says, admiring the effect. “And how was your time without me, young lady? Did you manage okay? Did you eat?” she asks, glancing around with concern. She can tell I haven’t used the kitchen much.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Okay? Anything happen that I should be aware of?”

  I shrug my shoulders. I don’t want to talk about negative stuff right now.

  She rummages through her suitcase and pulls out a lavender box. “This is the best tea in the world. It’s from Mariage Frères. I brought some macarons, too. Let’s have some. But — first things first.” She grins like a little girl and runs to her room, then comes out a minute later wearing her favourite Minnie Mouse pyjamas.

  I can’t help but smile. She looks like a teenager.

  “I’d love to do the same, but it’ll have to wait. I’m meeting Jonathan in an hour.”

  But seconds later, as if he’s somehow picked up on my thoughts, I get a disappointing text from Jonathan.

  So sorry, sweetie, I have to push back our date. I need to consult with my lawyer ASAP about my testimony. I’ll call you later, okay? Miss you XOXO

  And just like that, I go from happy to not.

  Maddie senses my disappointment. “Maybe we should have a glass of wine instead. We can have tea in the morning.”

  I’ve read Buddhist teachings that warn against attachments. According to Buddhism, we suffer because we get too attached to things or people, and it makes us sad when we lose them or when things don’t go according to plan. I think of Buddha as I take a deep breath and try letting go of my expectations about tonight. And then I respond as maturely as I can.

  “Yes, a glass of red would be awesome.”

  I pop a raspberry-flavoured macaron into my mouth and wait for the flavour to explode. Sometimes in a girl’s life, macarons fresh off the plane from Paris are the only thing that can save the day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “SO, TALK TO ME. What’s been going on around here?” Maddie says, curled up on the couch. She’s changed her glasses for the tortoiseshell pair she wears at home. She’s also wearing socks with lilac unicorns on them. She looks uber comfortable.