Back to the Good Fortune Diner

by Vicki Essex

“When did you get home?” she asked, folding her hands in front of her to keep from tugging on her suddenly too-tight collar. “I was...in the bathroom. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Half an hour ago. I got a ride home from a friend’s mom.”

  “Oh.” Shit, shit, shit. “Sorry. If I’d known you were here early—”

  “Hey, Dad,” Simon greeted over her shoulder.

  She turned to face Chris, who’d halted halfway down the stairs. With his bare feet and sexily mussed hair, it was pretty clear he hadn’t been working in the fields. Chagrined, she watched him slowly descend the rest of the way.

  “Hey, Simon. How was school?” How he could sound so casual she had no idea.

  “All right,” Simon returned with equal coolness.

  “I was just saying if I’d known he was home early that I would have been waiting for him down here instead of looking at the bathroom.” Tiffany cringed. God, she was a terrible liar.

  Chris nodded. “Yeah...I was thinking of renovating it. Getting some new tile in. You know. She’s got a good eye for color, being a painter and all. Did you know that about her?”

  “Sure, Dad,” Simon said, and downed the rest of his cola. As he got up to pitch the can in the recycling bin, he nodded at his father. “Your T-shirt’s inside out.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING, Chris sat through dinner, feeling like he was sitting on a very high and narrow stool. The gravy-laden steak and mashed potatoes his father had prepared tasted like cardboard. He was nervous, though why that was, he couldn’t say. He was a grown man, after all, and whatever questions his father and son had, he could deal with them. Dad and Simon were both watching him surreptitiously, glancing up now and again as if trying to work up the courage to say something. He wondered what his son had told his father.

  He spooned out the pool of oil sitting in the caldera of his mashed potato volcano. “How much butter did you use, Dad? I thought the doctor said you were supposed to cut down on fatty foods.”

  “But I’m eating greens now, see?” He scooped up a forkful of peas dripping with yet more butter. “Nothing’s wrong with a little butter.”

  “You know, Grandpa, I bet Tiffany would know of some healthy ways to cook vegetables,” Simon suggested.

  “I’m not fond of their food,” he said. “Pardon me. Her food. Chinese food. You know I only ever go there for the Friday lasagna special.”

  “Well, her grandmother is over seventy and she’s really healthy. I bet I could get Tiffany to give us some recipes for bok choy.”

  William grumbled, belligerently shoveling more peas into his mouth.

  “Actually,” Simon went on, “I was thinking about getting a job at the Cheungs’ diner once summer school’s over.”

  Chris raised an eyebrow. “You were?”

  “I was talking to Theo, who’s in my class. His sister Cindy works there as a waitress, and she said they needed someone to help with kitchen duties and stuff. I asked Tiffany about it, too, and she said she’d talk to her parents. She told me they were okay with it, so I phoned and asked Mrs. Cheung.”

  “I don’t know, Simon....” He eyed the fresh bandages taped around his arm. Simon tugged his sleeve to cover it.

  “Dad, it’s fine. They’ll train me and stuff. This was a stupid mistake and I won’t make it again.”

  For whatever reason, Chris looked to his own father for guidance. William only shrugged in response. “How are you going to get to work? You don’t drive.”

  “Mrs. Cheung said I could come in when Cindy did. She drives past here on the way to work, so she could pick me up. Once I get my license, it won’t be an issue.”

  “What about school?”

  “It’d only be two nights a week. They said they can’t afford more right now, but Mrs. Cheung said she’d be happy to have me on.”

  “What about Mr. Cheung?” William asked. “You know those two fight like cats and dogs, don’t you? From what I’ve heard, you can’t get them to agree on anything.”

  “She said he’ll be fine with it.”

  Chris preferred that his son focus on school, but he couldn’t help remembering what Tiffany had said about his son needing something else in his life. He didn’t want to say no right off the bat, and besides, he couldn’t help but notice his father hadn’t forbade him outright, either. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You should talk to Tiffany,” Simon suggested, eyes dancing. “She can tell you all about it tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to a study group after school. I’ll be away until dinnertime. Better yet, I’ll get dinner out.” Brightly, he added, “Grandpa, you should come and pick me up and we can go to the tavern for dinner. It’ll be fun.”

  “Now, why would I do a thing like that?” William groused. He stiffened suddenly and glowered at Simon. “Are you kicking my one good leg, boy?”

  “Grandpa. Take me to dinner tomorrow. Please?”

  “Why? Are you trying to hint at something? Speak straight to me. What are you— Is this about your father knocking boots with your tutor?”

  Chris choked on his mouthful of potatoes. “Dad!”

  Simon burst out laughing.

  “What? You think no one notices the two of you sneaking around together? I’m crippled, not blind.” He pushed his plate aside and folded his arms across his chest.

  “You are pretty obvious,” Simon agreed, scraping his plate clean.

  “I’m sorry.” Chris ran his hand over his face, humiliated. Time to come clean. “I won’t deny that we’re...involved. But it isn’t anyone else’s business, so I’d appreciate it if you’d both keep it to yourselves.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Simon said with a smug smile. “I like Tiff, you know? She’s all right. It’s a little weird, but I don’t have any problems if you guys wanna date or...you know.” He made a face and shuddered as he took the dinner plates to the sink and started to wash up.

  Chris blinked back unexpected tears. His son’s blessing wasn’t something he’d sought, but now that he had it, it was like he’d been handed a check for a million dollars. He hadn’t realized how important Simon’s approval was to him. He’d dated on and off since the divorce, of course, and Simon had tolerated those women. Then again, none of them had lasted very long. His son was too old to need a stepmother, but he did need someone who cared about him.

  After cleaning up, his father asked to talk to him on the porch. He sat in his rocking chair, smoking a slightly bent cigarette. He rarely smoked—it was only to “help his lungs” he insisted, despite all medical evidence to the contrary. Chris sat in a rickety wicker chair and leaned back. They listened to the cricket song as the summer sun swept low in the sky. He loved these long summer days. He knew they were coming to an end soon, but it only made them that much sweeter.

  “I take exception to the fact that you’re dating that woman,” William proclaimed.

  Chris stiffened as his blood went cold. “Are you saying you don’t approve because she happens to be Chinese?”

  “It’s got little to do with where her folks come from or what she is,” his father snapped. “My problem is with who she is.”

  Chris gripped his knees to keep from leaping out of his chair. He needed to hear the reason behind his father’s objection before jumping to any conclusions.

  William blew a cloud of smoke into the sky. “I’m not going to deny she’s done a lot for Simon. And she’s put up with me aplenty, God knows why. But I don’t think you know what she can do to you. What she’ll do to this family if you think you can hang on to her when you can’t.”

  “You don’t think she’d stick around for me?”

  William’s steady gaze was suffused with pity. “I’m saying that whatever happens, I don’t want it affecting Simon. It was hard enough when his mother left, hard on all of us—you especially, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.” He extinguished the cigarette and pocketed the half-smoked stub. “Now, I’m not saying she’s like Daphne—Lord knows Tiffany
works ten times harder than that woman ever could. But Tiffany’s got her sights set on bigger things than we can give her. I think you know that, too.” He looked off toward the fiery horizon. “Life in Everville is simple like a ham sandwich, and a girl like her needs more than that to keep her satisfied. Now, you can dress up a ham sandwich all you want, but it is what it is. Eventually, she’ll get sick of it and go looking for something else. And she’ll hurt you and Simon when that time comes.”

  “She would never hurt Simon.” Chris knew that for a fact. She cared about his son. He’d seen her dedication and concern for his well-being, treated him with care and respect.

  “Maybe not intentionally. But it can’t be helped. The boy’s getting attached. She won’t be here much longer, Christopher, and I know you don’t want to hear it, but there’s nothing you can do or say to keep her.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “It wasn’t enough to keep you here,” William went on relentlessly. “You’re only here because you have to be. Do you expect her to make the same noble sacrifices for you as you did for Simon?”

  “Go to hell.” Chris stormed off. He was so sick of how his dad treated him, as if nothing he did would ever be good enough. Invoking Daphne’s betrayal had hurt; labeling his son as an obligation was mean. But telling him he wasn’t good enough for Tiffany—

  He tamped down the molten fury rising in him. He had plenty to offer Tiffany—or any woman. They had chemistry. Common interests. A shared past. She was used to having a Starbucks on every corner and take-out food from every part of the world within walking distance, but things in town were changing and growing. She’d seen that for herself.

  William was wrong: Everville was so much more than a ham sandwich. And even if it was, what was wrong with that? Life here was good. It was enough.

  He kicked a stone so hard it went bouncing into the sunset. Dammit, he’d worked hard and had built a decent living here. Why wouldn’t she want to be with him?

  * * *

  DANIEL STOOD IN THE DINER on Sunday afternoon after the lunch rush had cleared out, feeling as though he were before a firing squad.

  “I’m leaving,” he told his parents.

  Their jaws dropped at the same time their faces alternately flushed and paled.

  “What?”

  “You can’t.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No.”

  The admonitions came out in rapid-fire sequence, but it was that last simple “No” from his father that kept him standing tall.

  “Yes, Dad. I’m leaving. I don’t know for how long, but it’s time for me to go find a real job.”

  His father paced, folding and unfolding his arms, while his mother slouched at a table, forehead resting in one hand, a deep frown lining her face. Daniel felt strangely disconnected from his body, as if watching himself from over his own shoulder. He’d practiced this speech a hundred times in his head. Perhaps he’d been subconsciously doing it all his life because he was unnaturally calm for a man who was betraying everything he’d been raised to believe.

  The chimes by the door heralded Tiffany’s arrival. She’d taken their grandmother to a doctor’s appointment, so had been excused from lunch rush. Her gaze bounced among the three, but understanding lit her face when he met her eyes.

  Dad gestured wildly. “Did you tell him to do this?” His accusation made Tiff flinch.

  “Tiffany had nothing to do with it,” Daniel said. “I already told you, I made this decision a while ago.”

  “You can’t go. We need you here,” Tony insisted. “Who is going to help me cook?”

  “You’ll figure it out. I’d start by seeing if Manny can come in full-time. Offer to pay him more—he deserves it after all these years. If he doesn’t want the job, you’ll have to hire someone.”

  “I don’t understand,” Rose said in exasperation, lapsing into Cantonese. “Weren’t we paying you enough? We let you live in our house, eat our food, all so you could save up for a house.”

  “It’s not about money. I have to go live my life. I have to find out who I am outside of the family business.” It had taken all this time to realize how right his sister was. He’d never cut the apron strings, never lived a life that wasn’t connected to his parents. His mom, his dad and Poh-poh had always been his first priority. He had always put his needs second.

  “What’s wrong with the family business?” Tony asked, throwing his arms wide. “This is good, honest work. Why would you throw it away?”

  “I’m not throwing it away. I just need time to figure things out.”

  “How much time? A week? A month? You left us for all those days to go to your reunion and it was so busy, I could barely keep up.”

  Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to have to figure it out. I’m sure you can find kitchen help easily.”

  “I don’t have time to train new people,” Tony groaned.

  “Well, you’re going to have to make time,” Daniel snapped, his patience thinning.

  “I’ll be here to help out,” Tiffany offered.

  Daniel turned to give her a grateful look. At least she was in his corner.

  “You?” her father scoffed. “You can’t help us.”

  “It’s not as if you’ll stay,” Rose agreed. “We need someone we can rely on long-term.”

  Ouch. Tiff’s face fell. Her hands curled into fists as she crossed her arms and glared back. Even if they were right, they didn’t have to throw it in her face.

  “Dad, Mom, I’m doing this. I don’t expect any pay while I’m gone. You can hire a replacement. There’s no reason you actually need me here.”

  Tony kicked a chair, toppling it. “You want to leave? Fine, leave. But don’t come back here begging for your job. You’re an ungrateful, selfish boy. I don’t need you.” He flung his stained apron on the floor and slammed into the kitchen. “Moh gwai young.”

  Pain as familiar as a well-used chef knife slid into Daniel’s chest. He collapsed into a chair opposite his mother, and Tiffany joined them.

  “Do you really have to go?” Rose asked quietly when the swinging door stopped flapping back and forth.

  “Yes. Now more than ever.”

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She kept shaking her head. “It’s about Selena, isn’t it?”

  The mere mention of her name sent a sharp, cold sting through his chest. When he didn’t answer, she said, “You haven’t been yourself for a while. I guessed it was because something happened, but you never said anything.”

  Daniel leaned on his elbows, exhausted. “It’s partly that. But there’s more to it. I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t even expect you to forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?” She sent him a startled look. “Of course I forgive you. You want to do more with your life. You want to get a good job, have a family. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. We raised both of you—” she addressed Tiffany “—to always do your best. You’ve outgrown your place here.”

  Rose got up slowly, her age suddenly showing as she went to the counter and started methodically wiping down the plastic-covered menus. “We would have liked you to stay, of course. We wanted you to carry on the business. We worked very hard to build it up, and...well, your father has a lot of pride.” She grimaced toward the kitchen. “But I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.”

  Hope flared. “So, you’re not mad?”

  “Mad? No. Disappointed, maybe, but mostly, I’m a little sad.” She sighed. “You’re both more American than Chinese, and your father forgets that sometimes. For our generation, we don’t leave our family behind. We don’t abandon and forget about our parents.”

  “We haven’t abandoned you,” Tiffany protested, but her mother only shook her head sadly.

  “You’ll have lives of your own, boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands, wives. One day, y
ou’ll have children, too. With everything else happening in the world, it becomes harder and harder to remember where you came from. That is why we raised you the way we did, to remember your heritage, your roots, your family. Family is what you have left when everything else is taken from you,” she said, then smiled faintly. “Wherever either of you end up, always know you have a place here with us.”

  * * *

  TIFFANY SNAPPED A MENTAL PHOTOGRAPH of the scene before her: her newly repaired Honda Civic hatchback was parked on the street right behind Daniel’s Camry, while her dad’s old minivan sat staidly on the driveway. If she were a better poet, she could write a few lines about that uncharacteristically crisp summer morning on the day her brother was finally leaving home. Maybe it was just the chill that had fallen between Tony and Daniel that made it feel so cool.

  Daniel had told her there was no point delaying his departure. If he stuck around in some misguided effort to placate their father, he would end up staying. Poh-poh seemed more baffled than upset by his announcement, but with typical grandmotherly care, she gathered snacks for the car ride as if he were simply heading to the city for the day.

  “Why all the books?” Tiff asked as he loaded two office boxes stuffed full of old tomes into the trunk. “They’ll weigh you down and cost you more gas.”

  “You sound like Dad,” Daniel said with a humorless chuckle, running a finger along the spines. It stopped over a copy of Kerouac’s On the Road, and he pulled it out and set it on top. “I just want them with me.”

  He didn’t sound like an excited boy heading toward adventure. He sounded...resigned. Tiffany’s worry grew.

  A heavy weight crept into her chest as he closed the trunk. She swallowed back burning tears and smiled hard to keep them from reaching her eyes.

  “Well, don’t look too happy to see me go,” he said, punching her in the arm.

  “What can I say? It’ll be nice not to have you hogging the bathroom.”

  He glanced over her shoulder and up to the porch. Tony stood there watching him, his features stony. He curled his lip in disgust, turned stiffly and walked back into the house.

  “’Bye, Dad,” Daniel called softly.