Crushing on You

by Jen Trinh

  “Whoa,” I heard myself say from far away.

  Cassie giggled, then nestled into Michael’s lap. “I’m starting to feel it, too.”

  Newly aware and hyper-sensitized, there was so much for me to examine, even with my eyes closed. My fingers dug into the shag rug, the long, thick fibers dry and slightly abrasive against my skin. The ripe, savory tang of Frankie’s saliva tickled my nose, along with the spicy scent of my own deodorant, which I hardly ever noticed anymore. But the highlight, the most glorious part of the experience, was the music. It invigorated me. I breathed deeply, as if the music were infused into the air, as if it would continue to resonate in my lungs. It filled my core and stimulated every cell in my body.

  My cheeks hurt from how much I was smiling.

  Before, my practical brain had simplified sound down to mere vibrations of different frequencies and levels of loudness. I’d never before appreciated the sheer range of frequencies, or noticed how moving the interplay of notes of different pitches, tones, and lengths could be. The memories that were attached to them, and that they evoked. The staggering power and emotion of the human voice. How had I gone so long without noticing?

  I’d liked Anna’s playlists when we’d listened to them before. They’d always been in the background while we did other things, like cooking, cleaning, or making love. But there, at that moment, they were a focal point. Each synth, beat, and note perfectly resonated with my emotions, and I felt the music as I never had before. I sighed with pleasure at discovering this new power, this new part of myself.

  I pulled out my phone and briefly forgot how to unlock it, as my eyes struggled to focus and the screen seemed three-dimensional. Eventually, I unlocked the thing and found Anna’s Spotify profile and hit subscribe. I could not believe that I hadn’t recognized how good her music taste was until just this moment. Had she done shrooms before?

  The thought drifted away and my vision blurred once more. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

  So I closed them, and remembered.

  ◆◆◆

  As Cassie had described, I felt so at peace. So content. I found myself revisiting fond memories of other moments in my life when everything had felt just right.

  I remembered my grandpa walking around the house, shirtless and singing Chinese opera off-key and at the top of his lungs. My dad told him to stop singing and put a shirt on because my mom was around. She just laughed and told him to do as he liked.

  I remembered my grandmother’s cooking. She practically lived in the kitchen, trying to keep enough food on the table to feed our giant family. I loved the simple things she made, like pan-fried Chinese sausage and eggs with pickled turnips. She always gave me a little extra meat because I was the eldest grandchild, and she’d wanted me to physically be the biggest.

  I remembered my mom staying up late one night, her cool hands on the nape of my neck as she held my head up to help me drink her homemade ginseng tea. I’d hated the taste at the time, so she’d added honey to help it go down. The flavor combination was so soothing to me now.

  I remembered my dad...and for the first time in a while, the memory was full of joy and laughter, not grief.

  I was eight, and my dad was eating his half of a Boston cream donut. He’d given me the other half, and I’d already shoved the whole thing into my mouth.

  “Ba, do you know how to make these?” I’d asked him, mouth still full.

  Dad chuckled. “No, I don’t know how to make donuts. Your Ayi on your Ma’s side knows how to make something similar, though. ”

  “Chinese donuts?” I looked at him, wide-eyed.

  “Jiandui.” Sesame balls.

  I frowned. “Those aren’t the same at all.” My aunt’s fried sesame balls had red bean paste in them, and they weren’t as sweet.

  He chuckled. “They’re still good, though. You should ask your aunt to try to make one for you with cream inside sometime.”

  The memory shimmered away as I opened my eyes and smiled. Then I fumbled with my phone again and sent a text to my aunt. I hope I don’t sound obviously high, I thought, closing my eyes again.

  I released another contented sigh and slipped back into my memories. Memories of Anna.

  The silkiness of her hair between my fingers, the weight of her head on my chest as we lay languid and spent, cuddling in bed after a long bout of love-making.

  The sound of her laugh, so loud and full-bodied, honest and pure, whenever I tickled her stomach or told her an especially corny joke.

  Her utterly euphoric expression whenever she discovered a new song that she loved, and her boundless excitement when she shared it with me.

  Then...the hurt in her eyes when I’d betrayed her trust, and belittled her, the day of our fight. The moment I’d lost her.

  That night when she’d told me her story, I tried my best to just shut up and listen, to be sympathetic. But deep down, I couldn’t believe that she’d just throw away her family forever, especially her mom.

  And after experiencing the shock and pain of a parent’s death, I’d thought that she didn’t know what it meant to truly cherish someone, to compromise and fight for them. If you really love someone, how could you just give up on them like that?

  But looking back…maybe I was the one who’d given up too easily.

  I sighed, long and wistfully.

  ◆◆◆

  Later that evening, sober and more clear-headed than I’d ever been, I called my aunt.

  “Hi, Ayi,” I said. Ayi meant aunt.

  “Ian. What did your text mean? ‘Crem balls = $$$’. I don’t understand.”

  I laughed. “Sorry, Ayi. That was a reminder for me. I wanted to ask you to teach me how to make jiandui.”

  “Oh, jiandui. Why do you want to learn how to make jiandui all of a sudden?”

  “So that I can spend some quality time with my aunt?” I teased, though I did want to get to know her better, too. What were her secret dreams? “But really, I have some ideas for fillings and different flavors. I’d like to try making them with you.”

  “Mmm, I can never say no to my nephew. I can teach you. When?”

  “Are you free tomorrow? I can come by anytime.”

  “Sure. Come here at 10am. Can you pick up the ingredients?” She told me what they were and I jotted them down.

  After she hung up, I looked up recipes online, just to get some additional ideas for things to try. I went out and bought some ingredients, then stayed up late trying different variations on the recipes that I’d found.

  By the end of the night, I fell into bed exhausted, yet proud and excited. I finally looked forward to what the next day would bring.

  ◆◆◆

  A month later, I told Cassie, “I’m opening a food truck.”

  I’d just turned in my two-weeks notice to Stumpstash and Cassie had been the first to know, other than Isaiah. She pulled me into a conference room to discuss the details and started flipping out.

  “No way. Seriously? Oh my god.” Cassie held her hands against her forehead, as if I were completely boggling her mind. “What kind of food?”

  “Sesame balls. You know the kind you can get at dim sum, with red bean filling? I’m going to have different fillings and toppings and put my own unique spin on them.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow. That sounds SO GOOD. Oh my god. You need to bring some to the office before you quit.”

  I chuckled. “I will. I’ll need you guys to help spread the word.”

  She squealed in excitement, hopping from foot to foot. “Ah, Ian, I am SO EXCITED FOR YOU!” She paused, then quickly sobered, her voice dropping an octave. “But seriously...I’m going to miss working with you. You always made meetings more entertaining. And I really loved that you got your team to deliver pretty close to on target, most of the time.”

  “I feel like that was mostly you, breathing down everyone’s necks.”

  We both laughed. Then I got up and hugged her. “Thanks for everything, Cassie.”

&
nbsp; Chapter 23

  -Anna-

  There were three excruciatingly awkward weeks between when Ian and I broke up and when he moved to San Francisco.

  We nodded at each other in passing and exchanged pleasantries in the elevator, faces carefully neutral. He spoke civilly to me when he needed more office supplies, and I politely requested his attendance in meetings and interviews that he was needed in. And at the end of those three weeks, I casually hugged him, just like everyone else, at his office goodbye party, which as the office admin, I’d helped to organize.

  Outwardly, I think I succeeded in seeming fine.

  Inwardly, I had to hold the pieces together with musical crazy glue.

  I made so many new playlists during those three weeks. Some of them, understandably, were about heartbreak. The volume and fervor of those playlists kind of surprised me though, given that our relationship had been so brief and tumultuous. But maybe it made sense. After all, the sex had been mindblowing, a total dopamine rush, and my body craved him like it craved sugar and fat.

  But more than that, I’d been vulnerable with him...and he’d turned it against me. And even though he’d said he hadn’t meant it after the fact, it made me feel like no sane, whole person would accept me for who or what I was, no matter what they promised me. I was broken and couldn’t be fixed, even by a guy as sweet and caring as Ian had been. Maybe I was lamenting the fact that my heart would never be whole.

  And now that I was back at Asher’s place, it felt like nothing had really changed. Like I’d gone one step forward and two terrible, heartbreaking steps back.

  But you know...that was how life was. You fell, you got up, and you kept trying until you got to the top. I wallowed at times, and I cried, maybe a bit too much. But with each new tear, my determination grew. My days of running from my problems were over. I was going to get my shit together and live the life that I wanted.

  My life.

  ◆◆◆

  I started by telling Asher the truth.

  We were sitting together, him on the floor, me on the couch, splitting a pizza from the place right down the block. We’d spent the evening watching the trashiest of television together and laughing at the ridiculous couples that got together. After one particularly terrible quote from a guy who’d been catfished, we were both howling with laughter. He took my hand and kissed it, smiling so sweetly at me from where he was sitting.

  I slowly pulled my hand away.

  “Asher...we should talk.”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s...hopeless, isn’t it?” The commentators on the show guffawed at yet another catfishing victim. Asher reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

  I slipped onto the floor to sit next to him, then took a deep breath. It was time. “You know how much I love you, Asher. I really, really do love you, but...only as a friend. I don’t want to lead you on or give you the impression that things are going to change. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, taking things in stride. “I figured. I just wish you’d told me sooner.”

  I looked down, ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. I was just...scared that you wouldn’t let me stay. And I didn’t know what else to do.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not a kid, you know. We can talk about things like adults.” He ran his fingers through his long, curly hair. “And you can stay as long as you want. Just...let me know how I can help.”

  I placed my hand on his shoulder, relief flooding through every cell. I hadn’t lost him. “Thanks, Asher. I mean it. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But I definitely don’t want to hold you back. I’m going to find a new place soon, I promise.”

  “No rush,” he said, getting up and pulling a beer out of the fridge. “It’s fun having you around.” He tentatively smiled, and I smiled back. Friends.

  ◆◆◆

  Because I was back at Asher’s, I also walked past the climbing gym everyday. Just another painful reminder of Ian, of what I was missing. As were mentions of California…anytime I heard the word European...the eggplant emoji...ginger. Sigh. I still peeked in when I walked by, but I knew that I wouldn’t find what I was looking for.

  But one day as I was walking past, I saw Lina on her way in. On instinct, I waved. “Lina!”

  “Anna!” To my surprise, she came up and hugged me, long and hard. “Long time, no see! Are you climbing today?”

  “Oh, no, I don’t...I mean, Ian…”

  She held up a hand to stop me. “I know you used to climb with him, but you were making progress on your own. If you keep at it, you’ll be a crusher in no time.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I wanted to be a crusher. I wanted to crush at everything.

  Lina put her hand on my shoulder, her big brown eyes full of compassion. “It looks like you could use a climbing session. Want to come in? I’ve got a guest pass.”

  I looked down at my clothes. Luckily, I did have leggings on, but my sweater was cashmere. A lucky thrift store find, one that I didn’t want to muck up with sweat. As if reading my mind, Lina said, “I’ve got a spare t-shirt if you need to borrow one.”

  I nodded, grateful. I could really use the endorphins. And maybe a friend.

  ◆◆◆

  Without Ian around, Lina was totally different.

  Before, she mostly just talked to us about climbing. We focused on the problems and worked through them together, and that was the extent of our relationship.

  She still pushed me to climb hard, same as before. But now, she actually talked to me (“Guys always think I’m flirting if I talk about anything other than climbing,” she’d laughingly explained). She asked me about work, about my weekends, about music. I did the same, and was thrilled to discover that we had a ton to talk about.

  She was doing her PhD in Chemistry at NYU. I’d gone to NYU for undergrad. We compared notes on the best work nooks around campus.

  She’d grown up in Philadelphia, just like I had, and neither one of us really liked Philly cheesesteaks much. And our schools had actually been field hockey rivals, though neither of us had played on our respective teams.

  And we were both happily single. After that first climbing session together, we agreed to go out dancing that weekend. And, I agreed to get a membership to the gym so that we could keep climbing together. She was so sweetly thrilled about both.

  For someone so hot, Lina was surprisingly bookish. She worked in a chemistry lab all day, so she dressed for function, not for fun, and her wardrobe consisted almost exclusively of workout clothes, jeans, and t-shirts. Asher’s band was playing at a swanky venue in Bowery and could get us in for free, but she needed to meet the dress code. We agreed to meet at my place on Friday so that she could borrow one of my dresses.

  I heard her knock on the door while I was in the bathroom, where I was finishing up with my makeup. “Asher, can you get it? It’s my friend Lina.”

  “Yeah,” I heard him call back.

  I couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but a moment later, Lina was knocking on the door to the bathroom. I pulled it open.

  “Hey!” We hugged. “Ready to look sexier than ever before?”

  Lina grimaced. “No?”

  I laughed and tried not to mess up my eyeliner. “The dress is on my bed. Shoes, too. Go try them on!”

  She entered my room and closed the door. I finished applying my makeup, then went and knocked on the door. “Lina, you ready?”

  “I guess so,” she quietly replied.

  I swung open the door and stared.

  Wowza. The dress, a halter-top backless bodycon dress, was meant to be form-fitting and kinda short, but she was taller and had broader shoulders and bigger boobs than me. And a bigger ass. Her legs looked miles long with the heels on, which she probably didn’t need, given her 5’10” height. She was a natural beauty, and even without much makeup on, she looked like a supermodel, especially with her perfect little beauty mark on the left above her lip. The only flaw was her hair
, which was tied back in her typical messy bun.

  I walked over to her and pulled her hair tie out, then fluffed the resulting curls out.

  “Asher,” I called. “Come here, we need your professional opinion.”

  “What? No!” Lina tried to cover herself with her jacket, but I pulled it away, laughing.

  Asher showed up at the door. “What’s up—”

  He froze. And he stared. A moment later, he whistled. “Damn.” Lina bit her lip and tugged the hem of the dress down, so bashful and sexy.

  Asher continued, “No offense, Anna, but that dress looks way better on her than it ever did on you.”

  I gave him the finger and said, “Yeah, yeah, it’s true. It’s Lina’s dress now.”

  “What? I’m just borrow—”

  “Hush! You’re going to seduce the shit out of people with that dress. It’s yours now—use it wisely.”

  Lina looked at me, so sweet and so cluelessly hot...then looked at Asher.

  And kept looking at Asher.

  Asher licked his lips.

  “Oh my god, get a room guys, stop eye-fucking each other.”

  Lina laughed nervously and took her jacket from me. “Let’s go before I decide to change.”

  It turned out to be a really fun night. Asher’s band was on fire, and the crowd was really feeling it. Lina was putting on quite the show herself, and I was impressed with how well she could dance, despite wobbling on my borrowed heels. I caught Asher staring at her during his set significantly more than once. I smiled at the sight, and wondered if that was how it had looked when Asher and I’d first met.

  ◆◆◆

  “Hey. I found a place. I’m moving out.” Cassie had helped me find the place on Saturday evening, so I’d gone over to the open house on Sunday with my checkbook and rental application filled out. I’d gotten approved then and there—my tech job had done wonders for my credit.

  Asher looked up from his keyboard. “Oh. Where? When?”

  “It’s in Jackson Heights. A little bit farther of a commute, and super tiny, but it’s totally affordable. I move next week.”