Calculated

by Nova McBee

  No one knew the truth of who I was, except King and Red. Being respected felt good, but the guilt of helping King weighed on me daily, especially since I knew he handled the girls for Madame. I’d give anything to pay back all the wrongs I’d helped create. Red was convinced I’d get that chance.

  “Start from the top,” Red said as he marked the walls up with chalk.

  My eyes zoned out. Usually I’d obey Red. But today I couldn’t. I had just watched King walk away with 100,000 Euro after three bribes, two blackmails, one bloody fight and any number of broken laws.

  “I have too much on my mind.”

  “What is it, Granddaughter?”

  “Money. I hate it,” I said nearly spitting the word. “I wish I was born an idiot. Then I wouldn’t be here. My sister wouldn’t have ever hated me. My father would have loved me for who I was. I wouldn’t have helped smugglers traffic people all over the world. I would have lived and died a nobody, but I’d have been happy. I’d have been innocent.”

  Red leaned back. “If you eat honey—”

  “I don’t want to hear another idiom, Grandfather,” I said, cutting him off.

  “This is no idiom. I am trying to teach you something.” He tried to sit up again but was too weak. I pulled him up. “Money is neither good nor evil. It’s neutral. Money can feed the hungry or it can oppress them. People are good or evil, generous or greedy. Money tempts everyone, but each must conquer it. Does generosity start here?” He shoved his hand in his pocket. “Or here?” He tapped his heart. “Right. If it is absent in your heart, it is absent in your pocket, no matter how much you have.”

  “Who can conquer it? Look at Madame. King. Even my own family.”

  “All men must choose. How do I use what’s been given to me?” he said. “If you trust in money, your world will fall. Money cannot love nor is it loyal. It comes and goes without our asking. Economies rise and fall. Look at history.”

  “King and Madame don’t care about things like that.”

  “Ah, but they are forgetting one thing: If you steal honey, one day you will get stung.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “You love honey,” I said, the corner of my mouth turning up.

  He patted his stomach, giving me a wink before continuing. “Madame and King have chosen to use their life and wealth for evil. This is not living. They have lost the path to true blessing.”

  “Which path is that?”

  “The path of Love. To live by love is to walk on a path with higher rules than of this earth. There, you will always prosper.” He pulled the blanket over his chest. “Many things are like love. The more you give away, the more you receive. And no matter how many times you uproot love, it always grows back. It is infinite.”

  Infinity.

  I refused to argue with him. I always wanted to believe in infinity, in love that lasts forever. Problem is people always get in the way. They’re imperfect and imperfection cannot loop forever. So I simply said, “I don’t get it.”

  “Most people don’t. There are things in this universe that we cannot understand outright. They’re built on paradoxes far beyond our thinking, but if we learn to live by their rules, we never fail. Test it.”

  I went back to my cell and thought about his challenge. I thought about how infinity could keep going even if the imperfect equations around it should cause it to stop. After 37 minutes I came to a conclusion. I was so excited I had to share it with Red even though he was asleep.

  “Grandfather,” I whispered, gently tapping his shoulder. “Wake up. I want to tell you something.”

  “Yes?” he mumbled, shifting slightly. It triggered a violent coughing fit.

  His face disfigured with pain. A moan escaped his lips, barely audible, then he rolled onto his side and slipped back into sleep.

  A tear slipped down my cheek. I couldn’t remember why I had bothered Red now. I didn’t even care. Only one thought ran through my mind, the one thing I cared about. Red—I was losing him.

  “Happy birthday,” Red said handing me a steaming bowl. “Noodles. They symbolize long life.”

  I give him a sideways glance. “You could’ve told me that a bit sooner,” I joke. “I would’ve eaten a few extra bowls.” I thank him and try to ignore that Red can barely lift his bowl to his mouth. Apart from my hungry slurping, we eat in silence.

  Eventually Red pushes his bowl aside. “I have already taught you all I know. Now I want to give you a gift.”

  “Yeah, what is it, Grandfather?” I poked him gently in the arm. We didn’t have a thing in the Pratt. Red said we gave of our minds. These gifts were better than new clothes or shoes, although I could definitely use some new boots.

  “Don’t tell me you’re saving your noodles for me,” I joke. “You need to eat. You’re too thin.”

  “Haha.” He laughed. “No, no.” He took a piece of chalk. His frail hand drew a picture on the wall. From the outline, it looked like some kind of bird. “This gift is much more important than food.” His hands traced the wings, the beak, the eyes. Was he implying I could fly? Like my game Seagulls? Metaphorically soaring into my dreams?

  I was better at guessing Red’s hidden codes in his riddles but this one was different. It wasn’t a seagull, as I assumed he’d draw. This bird had a slender body with narrow curved wings like a hawk’s, a streaming tail and head feathers that looked like a small crown. Red was telling me something different. The bird was coming out from the ground. Then I saw it. It was rising from the ashes.

  “It’s a phoenix,” I said.

  “Yes. My gift is a new name for you. You are Phoenix now,” he said. “It is your time to rise. From the ashes into your destiny. When you are out, use this name until you find it.”

  When I was out. He had very high hopes. Was he trying to cheer me up on my birthday? But I liked the name. Besides, everything Red did symbolized something, so if he wanted me to be called Phoenix, I’d do it.

  “Thank you, Grandfather, for your gift,” I said. His smile lasted a second before a frown crossed his face.

  “What is it?”

  “You will suffer to hear what I must say next,” he said quietly.

  “Don’t tell me, then,” I said. “I’ve suffered too much.”

  “What have I taught you, dear girl?” He coughed. “Come closer.”

  I obeyed because he was the closest thing I had to family. Around this time of night, I usually bid him goodnight and let him sleep. Tonight, he was so weak he couldn’t get into bed alone. I helped him in, picking his legs up, covering him with the blanket. The Pratt had drained all life from him. I grabbed hold of his hand.

  “What have I taught you?”

  “Pure gold does not fear the fire,” I said, repeating one of Red’s many lessons.

  “Good. Remember what is inside of you. Suffering cannot burn it away. The more fire, the more pure you will become. I believe in you. Now, listen to me.”

  My head rested on his frail chest. I braced myself for the bad news. His weak hands folded over my hair.

  “I’m dying,” Red said. “You have known for a long time.”

  It was no secret, but nonetheless his words were like needles in my heart. Each time the idea of Red leaving me came to mind, I pushed it away.

  “Look at me.”

  My head lifted. I searched his watery eyes. He was sad but not about dying. Red didn’t fear death. We had talked about it a hundred times. That wasn’t the news he was trying to tell me. My mind calculated. When I deduced what he wanted to say, I gasped for air.

  I never calculated this possibility into our planning. I believed he’d never do it. But he was. That was why he was sad.

  “You’re cashing in your one favor, aren’t you?” It made sense. He wanted to see his family before he died, to make right whatever went wrong.

  “Yes.”

  The needles in my heart now pricked my entire body, like I’d fallen into frigid water. Tears started falling. I was losing the only good thing I’d had
in the last year. I would be alone.

  “For you,” he said.

  “What?” I whimpered.

  “In one week, there will be a kidnapping. Yours,” he said. “An old friend will come for you.” He reached into the pocket of the jacket hanging at the edge of his bed, taking out a chess piece. A pawn. He put it in my hand. “When you are out, give him this. It will make him remember.”

  “Grandfather, no. You can’t do this. You deserve to see your family. You deserve to get out.” Gripping his sleeve, I clamped down so tightly I feared I’d crush his fragile arm. “Don’t ask me to leave you. You’re the only family I have.”

  “Don’t cry, daughter.” His eyes wandered off. “What have I taught you?” He coughed again, violently.

  “Grandfather, please.” I couldn’t fight the stinging in my eyes and throat.

  “Promise me you will use your gift for good,” he muttered. “Remember, we all have a destiny. It’s our choice whether or not to walk in it. Those who do, go down in history.”

  “Grandfather,” I begged, frightened at how resolute his voice sounds. “What about your purpose? What about making your wrongs right?”

  “All these years I stayed here. I believed it was for King. I was wrong. It was for you.” His hand slipped away from mine. “Take King’s stash. You will need it to undo the evil that has been done.”

  “How can I? You never told me where he hides it.”

  “You know where it is.”

  I didn’t. He never told me, but in that moment I couldn’t have cared less.

  “Grandfather, listen to me. You’re going to get well. I’ll ask Guard San for more medicine. You’ll see.”

  “What have I taught you?” he mumbled, his eyes on mine.

  My mind raced through hours and days and months of lessons. How could I have summed up everything this man taught me? How much he had given me? I was crying now, not just a whimper but sobbing.

  “I taught you to trust me,” he said. “You’ll leave me. But you won’t be alone. You’ll have another family one day.” He wiped the tears from my cheek. “You taught me something as well, you know. Something you need to remember.”

  “I didn’t teach you anything.” The thought was so preposterous. I was a terrified, angry girl when Red befriended me.

  “Wrong. You taught me to believe that I can beat the odds, and I did. I never had a daughter.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Destiny gave me you. Seven days from now…you will beat the odds too. My family...sister...” He wasn’t making sense. These were the hallucinations of a dying man, nothing more. Except he had never given me false hope before. This man didn’t lie. I forgot about the kidnapping and squeezed his hand.

  “I’ll take you with me.”

  He was slipping away from me. His movements grew still. I clung to his frail arm, stroking the wrinkled skin barely holding on to his bones. He used all his strength to focus on me.

  “No, bury me in peace and love. I will always be with you,” he said, eyes closed. “Goodbye, daughter.” He found my hand.

  “Goodbye? Bury you? Don’t talk like that.” But he didn’t respond. “Grandfather?” His hand slipped, loose and lifeless, from my grip. I checked his mouth. He wasn’t breathing. “No, Grandfather, don’t leave me!” I shook him. “Wake up, Grandfather!” I pinched his wrist. No pulse. Then I realized he had told me goodbye but I never got to tell him what I should have said each and every day.

  “Thank you for everything,” I cried into his chest. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He couldn’t hear me, but I kept telling him until sobs overtook my ability to speak.

  It was dark.

  After 92 minutes it was time to go. My face was inches from his. My light in the darkness had gone out. I forced myself to stand.

  Red lay on his small cot, fingers still clutching on the worn wool blanket. I took one last look and memorized how he looked. Calm and quiet, even now, his eyebrows were raised as if in a pleasant thought. He had gone from one world to the next, where the Pratt didn’t exist, where there was no cold, no pain, no hunger, no screams stalking the darkness.

  The world did not deserve this man. So many people could have benefitted from his brilliance, his kindness. He was forced to live out his days in this small cell when he deserved a castle—not King.

  I closed the bars behind me, and the realization hit—I’d never see Red again. Tears spilled down my face all over again. Back in my cell, I collapsed to the floor with my head on my folded arms across my bed. I cried all night and into the morning. I gave into it, to the pain of losing Red, the hurt of never being rescued by my family, the confusion, the fear. I let it all drain out for over ten hours.

  Morning came. I sat up, ran my sleeve across my eyes and face. I unfolded myself and stood in my cell. A new plan swelled and solidified. I set my face to it like stone and resolve rose in me like a consuming flood. Madame would not be the only one to suffer from my hand.

  King. Will. Pay.

  21

  Present: Phoenix

  FRENCH CONCESSION, SHANGHAI, CHINA

  Breakfast is a nightmare. Scrambled eggs, toast with butter and jam. Americans eat this. I ate this growing up. How long did I dream of eating something like this while I was in the Pratt? Now the taste in my mouth is foreign. The toast is dry, the jam too sweet. But that’s not really why I hate it. It’s because with each bite I see my father across the table from me, hear my sisters in the kitchen before school, and feel my mother kissing my forehead.

  I shove the plate away before tears come to my eyes. How many years will it take to stop thinking about them? To stop seeing them in everything, even in eggs? Josephine’s family is dead—she has already mourned for them. I’m not going back to that grief. Ever.

  There are more important things to think about. I think I’ve found a way to solve the economic crisis and stop Madame at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

  The doorbell rings. Ten o’ clock again. Kai. Does he always go into work this late?

  “Morning.” He greets me in English like usual, then does a double-take, checking every part of me. His expression changes.

  For a second, I feel like the girls in the Pratt, unsure of themselves.

  “What?” I ask a little too brusquely.

  “You look completely different again,” he says surprised.

  I’m covered from head to foot: dark slacks, gray blouse, a blue scarf, and a black leather jacket lined in merino wool. Black boots peek out from under my trousers, new and stiff; even I feel a bit rigid in them. A complete change from the girly dress I wore yesterday, different makeup. I straighten up, make sure my hair is down my back, and try to act like everything is normal.

  “Get used to it.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he says softly as he holds the door for me. “You look hen mei.” He shyly looks away after his compliment. I just barely notice his cheeks turning pink. So. The billionaire playboy can blush.

  “Thanks,” I say, softly this time.

  We walk to the garage and hop into his Range Rover in silence. There’s no coffee for me today, and apart from two more brief looks, he’s as reserved as the day before. I ignore it.

  Outside, the city is masked in gray pollution. This makes me angry. Once I calculated that if people like Madame contributed .01% of what they earn, the pollution problem could be solved within five years. But she’d burn her money before letting a penny of it slip into another’s hands.

  I don’t notice how bad traffic is until a loud horn blares for an ear-piercing three seconds, waking the dead.

  “Tai nao huo le!” Kai says, slipping into Chinese, slightly irritated.

  I stay silent. The gridlock of cars ahead doesn’t bother me. I’m riding in a comfortable, clean car. Master of my own life. Traffic is the least of my worries.

  “Let’s take the back roads.” Kai makes a U-turn.

  He pulls into a small alley. The roads become narrow as we dodge behind the big building
s into an older neighborhood. “I know these roads well. My father owns a factory here.”

  “A factory?” I ask, perking up. “I didn’t read about a factory in his reports.”

  “Probably because it’s been empty for more than ten years,” he says.

  “No plans for it?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How big is it?” I ask, an idea rising. The area around us is not a flashy part of town. Not a lot of people. Very quiet.

  “Three stories,” he says, maneuvering through the tight streets. “It was built at a time when employees lived at the factory where they worked. It’s old, needs fixing up.”

  “Can you take me to see it?” I ask.

  Kai brakes for a red light. “Why?” I don’t respond. Thankfully, the red light turns green. He accelerates slowly. “We’re already late. Normal people work at 8:30.”

  “Screw work. You hate the office, right? And your father can wait another hour for his millions,” I say, my hand on the door handle, ready to get out of the car at the next stop just to spite Chan. I refuse to let him or anyone else control me, not when I can give him Shanghai on a silver platter.

  Kai looks at me again, contemplating his father’s reaction, but a glimmer in his eye tells me this is not the first time he’d be playing hooky from work.

  “Okay, if you promise not to run off again, pretending not to see me.” So. He knew I ignored him in the cab. He drives on, eyes forward. On his lips, he cracks a playful smile.

  “Deal,” I say. Kai may be watching me closer than he lets on. Little does he know that I’m watching him even closer.

  Kai parks the car in an alley locked in between brick buildings. “Typical old Chinese neighborhood,” he says.

  Plants in large pots line the streets, greening up the dull red bricks. People cook on the sidewalk. The smell of garlic whirls. Laundry hangs from the windows. Bundles of chives, links of sausages, celery, and pumpkins perch on window ledges locked in by iron bars.