Crushing on You

by Jen Trinh

  Drops of Thistle Milk is the most sensual, arousing track on the album, and very likely of all time. Full stop. The crisp percussion sounds build and overlay thick, warm synths, and Lopez dissolves panties with her intimate purring. The beat builds slowly until it crescendos into a climax of epic proportions, then drops back, slowly fading, shimmering in an afterglow of sound. My skin prickles every time I hear it.

  But while the digital album is amazing, it merely hints at the profound experiences that await you at their live show. I cannot emphasize it enough—the enchantment of their music needs to be experienced live.

  I literally orgasmed at their show after Drops of Thistle Milk finished. Literally. Not a fakegasm, not even an eargasm. A real, mind-shattering orgasm. As in, my labia twitched uncontrollably as a wonderful, lovely man filled me up with his baby juice.

  And it was the most beautiful and gratifying moment of my life.

  I’d grown up listening to TLP’s sexually explicit lyrics and their stimulating beats, but never had I truly understood the magic that their music carried until I’d experienced it in this way, in the way that they’d surely intended.

  The things they sing about—love, lust, loss, and family—it really is everything.

  So I urge you to go. Go to their show and bring someone you cherish. Someone you want to make magic with. Someone you’ll regret not making love to, just one more time.

  And fuck him or her (or them!) in the bathroom as Lopez and Matthews croon and work their spell.

  It will heal you.

  I reread the last several lines again. Had she really just submitted a piece urging people to have sex at a show?

  Was our brief encounter in the bathroom as miraculous and touching for her as she’d so poetically described?

  Did she feel the same way about me that I felt about her?

  Chapter 27

  -Anna-

  For a full day after I hit send, I compulsively checked my email every ten minutes.

  After 24 hours, with still no response, I reduced the frequency of checking to within a normal range—once every twenty minutes.

  After two entire days of radio silence, I stopped checking. Instead, I cut and pasted over my favorite photo of us so that it was actually a llama man with fluffy white tufts of hair, long ears, killer lashes, and big square teeth who had escorted me to Cassie’s wedding ceremony.

  Ass.

  On Saturday morning, unable to deal with his total lack of response any longer, I picked up my phone to text him.

  At just that moment, my phone vibrated with a text from you-know-whom. Are you at home right now?

  My pride disintegrated and my fingers flew across the screen to immediately text back, Yes what’s up did you read my piece?

  As soon as I hit send, there was a quiet knock-knock-knock at my door.

  I lifted my head and stared down the short hallway to the door. No way.

  Heart racing, I tossed my phone to the bed, then jumped up and ran to the door.

  With one quick glance through the peephole to verify what, in my heart, I already knew, I unbolted the door with shaky fingers and threw open the door.

  Ian picked me up in his arms and pushed me against the wall, crushing his mouth to mine. I did my best facehugger impression and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his hips, and kicked the door closed behind him.

  He’d come for me.

  ◆◆◆

  Ian was fast asleep, his head on my lap, his warm, naked body curled up around my legs. I trailed my fingers along the tips of his ears, watching his chest rise and fall as he evenly inhaled and exhaled.

  I thought back to months ago, about that fight where everything had fallen apart.

  It had seemed so intractable at the time...all of the pain that we held, the anger, the fear, had seemed like too much for either one of us to handle.

  Stroking his warm, bristly cheeks, it didn’t seem so impossible for us now. We were more sure of ourselves, and of each other. Of our dreams.

  I smiled and kissed Ian’s forehead.

  He slowly stirred, then opened his eyes and looked up at me. I smiled and kissed his forehead again.

  “Hi, sleepyhead.”

  “Anna,” he mumbled, stretching and yawning. “Should I go get you some Plan B?” He sleepily smirked.

  “Hah. Actually, I got an IUD a couple months back so that I could stop stuffing pills in my face.” It helped that Stumpstash’s insurance policies were so good.

  He stopped stretching—that woke him up real fast. It woke Mini Ian up real fast, too. “So now...I can come inside you all I want?” He turned his head and kissed my thigh.

  I giggled. “Only if I let you.”

  He pulled me down to the bed and we playfully wrestled, our laughter echoing in the tiny room. His full weight settled on top of me, pinning me against the bed. I wriggled my ass against his growing erection and sighed.

  We needed to talk before we got too distracted. “Ian.”

  “Yes, Anna?” he replied, kissing my neck.

  “Can we talk for a sec?”

  He kissed my neck once more, then drew back and simply held me. “Sure. What’s up?”

  I’d been the one to ask him to talk, but I hesitated for a moment before whispering, “What are you doing here?”

  He brushed his fingers along my thigh. “I came to see you.”

  I turned in his arms so that I could study his face. “Why?”

  He stroked my jaw with his fingers, the tender feeling in his eyes unmistakable. “Because I want to be with you.”

  I inhaled sharply. “Be with me? In New York?”

  He kissed my shoulder and trailed his fingers up my abs to circle my breast. “Yes, be with you, in New York.”

  I grabbed his hand—we needed to focus. “But you live in San Francisco.”

  “So? I can sell jiandui anywhere. Or get a different job.” He shrugged.

  “But your family is there.”

  “They have each other. And I can always go visit.”

  “But that’s...silly. You can’t just move here for me.” Right?

  “Why not? I don’t really care where I am, I care about who I’m with.” He kissed my forehead. “And I want to be with you.”

  “You don’t want to try long-distance first? Like...calling and stuff?”

  He rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. “Wow, you’re all the same. I am aware of how phones work, if that’s what you’re about to tell me. But no, I’d rather do in-person, if you’re okay with it.” His thumb gently stroked my cheek. “We’ve been through enough together for me to know that you’re worth it. More than worth it.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes as I scanned his face. “Why?” I whispered, finally allowing hope to seep in.

  He smiled and kissed my left eyelid. “Because you’re beautiful.”

  My right eyelid. “Because you’re fierce.”

  The tip of my nose. “Because you’re hilarious.”

  Finally, my lips. “Because you’re my Chinese-American dream.”

  Tears slipped out of the corners of my eyes, and he lovingly wiped them away with his thumbs. He smiled and kissed me again, sweetly, tenderly, and I arched up into him, holding his head, trying my best to devour him.

  But after a moment, he broke our kiss to finish his thought. “A lot has changed during these past few months. I think we’ve both grown a little more into ourselves, and I would love to spend some time getting to know the new you, the old you...all of you. I want to do things the right way this time, to make things last. Will you let me?”

  I nearly cracked my head on his chin with how vigorously I nodded. We both laughed, and he pulled me against him and held me as I cried into his chest. He stroked my hair and whispered soothing sounds as tension drained out of me, replaced by excitement for the future. Hope.

  I abruptly pushed away from him and sat up. “Nope, I’m moving to San Francisco.”

  “What? Why?” He pushed himself
up on his elbow to look at me.

  I wiped my tears away, determined. “I’m done with New York. It’s been over eight years, it’s time for me to try someplace new. There’s nothing keeping me here, and I basically live in a closet, for goodness sake.” I stroked his jaw and added, “Besides, then I can see Cassie more often, and maybe...maybe meet your family.”

  He studied my face, then asked the safer question first. “What about your job? Stumpstash? Will it affect your music writing at all?”

  “I mean, maybe. It’s hard to tell how things will change. But like you, I can find another job, and I’m pretty sure that I can write about music from anywhere. And I’ll have fresh material when I discover local bands and stuff. I could use a change of scenery.” San Francisco had been really fun when I’d last visited, and the prospect of exploring a new place filled me with excitement, not sadness.

  Then he tackled the real question. “Are you...sure you want to deal with my family? I have a big family.”

  I smiled and nodded. “If they’re your family, and you tell me that they’re great, then I...I trust you.” If he loved his family, then I was sure I could learn to do so, too.

  He held my hand. “You sure about this?”

  I settled back down into his arms, sighing contentedly. It felt right. “I’m sure.”

  ◆◆◆

  So we packed up my shit and I moved to San Francisco a month later.

  Saying goodbye to New York hadn’t been that hard. I organized one big going away party for my friends and acquaintances in the music biz, which Asher helped with. He even DJed, and the thoughtfulness of his set nearly brought me to tears. I was nervous when Ian said he’d come, but they shook hands without breaking each others fingers, and Ian even danced and asked Asher about his music. Thank goodness.

  Saying goodbye to Lina was another story. I convinced her to continue the tradition that I’d had with Cassie, of Sunday night Google Hangouts calls. Besides, we’d promised to do at least one outdoor climbing trip together each year, and I meant to hold us to it—I was super stoked for Burlfriendfest II. But even with that to look forward to, Lina was annoyed at Ian for depriving her of yet another climbing partner. She was incredibly hot and amazing at climbing, though, so I was confident that she’d have a replacement for me in no time. Based on how she and Asher had traded stares during the party, I not-so-secretly hoped it would be him.

  I had to quit my job at Stumpstash. Ian had been able to transfer offices as an engineer, but as an office admin, I couldn’t just transfer to the other office if they didn’t have an opening for me. They didn’t, so I quit. My coworkers were sad to see me go, but they promised to follow along on my music writing career, and to stop by Ian’s food truck when they were in San Francisco.

  I still planned on finding another job in San Francisco, but in the meantime, Moonslick Mirror ended up buying my piece (they’d called it “utterly charming and deeply reflective of [my] soulful connection to the band”) and had asked me to become a regular contributor. I’d definitely be okay without another job for a few months.

  And I found an apartment with some roommates that wasn’t too far from Ian’s place. The rent was no better or worse than in New York, but it felt good to take care of myself and have breathing room while still having him close by. I liked my new roommates, too, and was unsurprised to find that they were all climbers.

  And Ian and I got to know each other at the slow and leisurely pace that he’d promised. We’d started out all wrong before, but now I could sense that we’d have a long time to learn everything about each other. I was in no rush, and neither was he.

  But even so, I knew that, sooner or later, I’d have to meet his family.

  The thought still scared me a little.

  ◆◆◆

  It happened a few months later.

  “How do I look?”

  “Like a little skank.”

  I playfully slapped Ian’s arm, then asked him again, “How do I look?”

  He kissed my temple, eyes laughing. “Beautiful, as usual.”

  I smoothed my sundress and stared at the house before me. We were at Ian’s aunt’s house in Dolores Heights, and it was huge, daunting, and likely full of Chinese people, given that it was his mom’s birthday party.

  He took my hand and gently pulled me up the steps. “C’mon. You’ll do great. They’re all basically me, just older or younger or more feminine.”

  “Not more masculine?” I joked.

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Is it even possible to get manlier than this?” he said, alternately flexing his pecs at me.

  I shook my head, chortling, then followed him up the steps and through the door.

  “Ayi?” he called. “Ma?”

  We stepped into the house, took off our shoes, and looked around.

  The walls were a simple white, the floors and furnishings hardwood, all matching golden oak. The floor by the entryway was littered with dozens of pairs of shoes, the hooks on the walls overloaded with colorful sweaters and jackets. I swallowed a flash of panic at the thought of meeting that many people.

  They were just people. Ian’s people.

  I took a deep breath and walked further in.

  There were voices coming from outside, from the backdoor in the kitchen. It sounded like everyone was in the backyard. At the familiar sounds of loud Mandarin, the savory smells of grilled meat, soy and garlic...my stomach clenched. I needed a moment to collect myself. “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom first,” I said.

  “Do you want me to wait here for you?” Ian asked, concerned.

  I faked a little smile. “No, it’s okay. You should go greet your family. I’ll come out in a bit.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Bathroom’s down the hall and on the left.” He walked towards the backdoor. “If you want me to come back in or anything, just text or call.”

  “Thanks, babe.” I silently crept into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Unlike the rest of the house, the bathroom was papered with little yellow flowers. A plain, grassy green shower curtain enclosed the tub, and the toilet had a matching green chenille lid cover. There were several toothbrushes and sets of toiletries by the sink—more reminders of how many people awaited me outside.

  I lifted the toilet lid, peed, then sat for a few minutes, trying to prepare myself for all of the questions and judgment that were likely to come. I didn’t want to face—

  The door opened, and Ian’s mom stepped in, froze. Our eyes met for one agonizing moment.

  Then she slowly backed out and silently closed the door.

  I stared at the closed door and tried not to panic. His mom. She’d just caught me on the toilet. With my panties around my ankles. Then backed out without saying anything, like Homer into the bushes.

  I focused on breathing as I hurriedly got up and wiped, then tried to flush the toilet. But to my utter horror, it only dribbled and got slightly fuller.

  There was a knock at the door. “Anna, na matong huai le.” It was still Ian’s mom, and she was speaking Mandarin to me. Surprisingly, that part of my brain wasn’t as rusted over and full of cobwebs as I’d thought. I easily understood her to say, “Anna, that toilet is broken.”

  “Really?!” Shit.

  “If you open the door, I can help you.”

  “Ah, it’s okay, Ayi, I’ll try to fix it.” While she wasn’t my aunt, I remembered that it was what I was supposed to call her in Mandarin.

  I lifted the toilet tank cover to see if there was anything wrong. The tank had water and the fill-valve-flapper thingy seemed to be working just fine. It was probably just a clog in the toilet then, but I didn’t see a plunger anywhere. Damn.

  My first time interacting with Ian’s family and I’d clogged their toilet? I hadn’t even met them yet and already I was humiliating myself. No doubt I’d be a complete laughingstock for years to come, known to them only as Ian’s weird girlfriend who didn’t know how to use a toilet. A tiny part of m
e knew that it was ridiculous to think so, but I couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in my eyes as I struggled to stem the flow of negative thoughts.

  Another knock on the door, then Ian’s mom’s voice again. “Anna, let me help you.”

  I knew I couldn’t do anything about the clog. So I blinked away my tears, squared my shoulders, and threw open the door to find Ian’s mom still standing there. She was a full head shorter than me, with kindly eyes and beautiful laugh-lines in the corners, and her hair was shorter and grayer than in the picture I’d seen in Ian’s old condo. With a purplish-blue button-down shirt and black silk pants under her pink apron, and pure white house slippers on her feet, she was the picture-perfect Asian mom.

  She was utterly intimidating. And somewhat familiar.

  “Ayi. The toilet is clogged.” I met her eyes, then looked down, ashamed.

  She stepped past me and glanced at the toilet, then nodded, as if this were a common occurrence. I was so glad that I hadn’t taken a shit. “I’m going to get the plunger.”

  “Xiexie, Ayi.” Thanks, auntie.

  I waited by my toilet of shame, hoping that no one else would come by, until she came back a minute later with a plunger. I reached to take it from her, but she continued into the bathroom.

  “Wo lai ba, Ayi,” I said. Let me do it.

  She shook her head and said, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Go sit outside with everyone else.”

  I refused to leave, and I didn’t want to get into a game of tug-of-war, so I had to watch helplessly as Ian’s mom stuck the plunger into the toilet and began to plunge in earnest. Within a minute, the clog cleared and the toilet was flushable again.

  “Yes!” Ian’s mom said in English, then lifted her hand up to me, as if seeking a high-five. Wait, really? I wonderingly gave her one, and both of us laughed, relieving the pressure in my chest.