“I wil .”
As I turn to walk the food over to him, I hear Mom muttering in the background.
“Such a nice boy…so polite…”
As I hand Evan his food, he tips his head toward the kitchen.
“Is that your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“She seems nice.”
I cock my eyebrow, and he chuckles.
“She can’t be that bad.”
“Let’s just say I don’t get free egg rol s from her, and we’re related.”
“No way! I got them for free?” He looks past me into the kitchen.
“Thank you for the egg rol s, Mrs. Chan!”
Her head pops up so fast I’m convinced she was hiding just out of sight.
“You’re welcome! Don’t forget to tel your parents to come by next time!”
“I total y wil !” he cal s out.
Right then, Evan’s stomach grumbles so loudly we both hear it. Rather than being embarrassed, he just laughs.
“Guess that means I should get going.”
“Yeah. You should eat that while it’s stil hot,” I agree. “Especial y the egg rol s. They don’t taste good soggy.”
He nods, but doesn’t turn to leave. In fact, he lingers, watching me expectantly…almost as if he wants…
“Um…don’t you need me to pay for the food?”
“Right! Of course!”
Of course he was waiting to pay, Michel e. What did you think he wanted?
I mumble a farewel after handing him the paper and watch him head toward the door. Shortly after he leaves, we close up the restaurant and jump in the car to head home. In the darkness, Mom twists in her seat and proceeds to pepper me with questions about Evan. When I tel her about his parents, she lets out a sympathetic sound.
“That poor boy! No wonder he’s so skinny! Next time he comes, make sure you tel me so I can send him home with a little extra food.”
“Okay, Mom. I wil .”
“He seems like maybe he needs someone to talk to too. You should get to know him better. Maybe you two can be friends.”
I choke back a laugh. Of the many things Evan does not lack, it’s friends.
He’s usual y surrounded by them.
Then again, if she is encouraging me to talk to him, who am I to complain?
—
There must be something special about Mom’s egg rol s, because true to his word, Evan starts stopping by the restaurant nearly every night. Each time, he comes by around half an hour before closing.
On the third day, Mom suggests that he wait to order his food until he’s here so that it’s as fresh as possible.
“You’re welcome to pul up a chair and wait,” she tel s him. “We only keep them put up so people know there’s no dine-in.”
“Are you sure that’s okay? I don’t want to get in the way,” he answers.
“Nonsense! As you can see, it’s just the three of us here. Most people don’t order food this late at night anyway. Michel e wil keep you company while you wait.”
I’l do what now?
Mom shoots me a meaningful look as she passes by me on the way to the kitchen. Wel , it would be meaningful, anyway, if I knew what she was trying to tel me.
“Be nice,” she whispers.
Yeah, that stil tel s me nothing.
Once Evan and I are alone, I clear my throat. “Uh…how are your parents?”
Good start. Solid start.
“I think they’re okay,” he answers, dragging a hand through his thick hair. “They’ve actual y started staying in a hotel near the hospital because they’re worried about exposing me to the virus.”
“Oh.”
Okay, maybe not such a good topic of conversation.
“How’s the training for swim team going?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “We aren’t training. You know, because of the whole social distancing thing?”
Strike two.
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”
“At what?”
“Talking to people.”
Especial y when said person happens to be as perfect as you.
“It’s not real y that hard,” he says with a chuckle. “You just take turns asking questions and answering them.”
“That’s easy for you to say. It comes natural y to you.”
I don’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it does, but Evan remains unbothered. Instead, he leans back in the chair and folds his arms over his chest.
“You just have to practice. Here, ask me a question.”
“I just did,” I deadpan. “Two, in fact.”
He rol s his eyes. “An easier question. Something you would like to know about me.”
Besides how you manage to look hot and cute at the exact same time?
“Have you always wanted to swim competitively?” I ask out loud instead.
Evan ponders this for a moment, the squint of his eyes reminding me of the way he would also pucker his lips while concentrating in chem lab.
Focus, Michel e.
“No. I actual y started by accident. My parents wanted to keep me busy during the summer, so they put me in swim classes at the local pool.” He shifts in his seat. “My teacher at the time was a former competitive swimmer,
and I guess he saw something in me. He talked them into enrol ing me in private lessons with him. The rest is history.”
“Were your parents disappointed when you didn’t pass the Olympic trials?”
He shrugs slightly. “Maybe a little, but I’m lucky that they’ve always supported me no matter what. And to be honest, I’m kind of glad I didn’t make the cut. Training at that level takes up so much time. It doesn’t leave room for anything else.”
“Do you know what you want to do after you graduate, then?” I ask.
“I’m not sure yet. I was hoping to figure that out this year, but then COVID happened.”
The mention of the virus spreading rampantly through Houston turns our mood somber. We sit in silence, wrapped in our own thoughts. After a while, Evan leans forward and smiles.
“Now it’s your turn. What do you want to do after graduation?”
“Oh, um, I’m hoping I’l get into UT Austin. They have a real y good premed program.”
“That’s pretty awesome,” he comments, sounding impressed. “Not everyone can go into medicine.”
“Yeah, wel , we’l see if I can cut it.”
“I mean, you set the curve in chemistry while I nearly blew up the lab, so how much harder could med school be?”
I hum. “I suppose you have a point.”
Our eyes meet across the designated six feet of space, and we burst into laughter at the same time. We’re stil chuckling when Mom appears, carrying his order in one hand. Evan pops out of his chair as Mom places it on the nearest table.
“There you go. Egg drop soup, walnut shrimp, and of course, egg rol s. I also threw in some of our special lo mein.”
“That’s too much, Mrs. Chan,” he protests. “I can’t accept this.”
Mom pushes it toward him. “I insist. If you don’t take it, I’l be very upset.”
Evan quickly acquiesces. “Wel , I wouldn’t want that. Thank you, real y.”
She walks him to the door, unlocking it to let him out.
“We’l see you tomorrow?”
His eyes flicker over to me, and he winks.
“I’l be here.”
—
Three weeks pass by in the blink of an eye, and by the end of it, I’ve learned more random facts about Evan than I ever expected to.
His favorite color is green. Not bright green, but deep green, like moss.
He’s al ergic to cats, but stil owns two.
He was born left-handed, but his parents trained him to use his right instead.
Even though he’s real y good at swimming, the only other sport he can play is soccer.
He gets his height from his paternal grandfather,
who passed away before he was born.
As we keep talking, Evan starts revealing other things, things that make me realize there’s so much more to him than what he shows others.
He wishes he were smarter, like his older brother, who is attending law school.
Even though he has a lot of friends, he doesn’t feel close to any of them.
He real y enjoys learning, and wil sometimes spend an entire day wandering through a museum.
Lately, he’s been up late at night worrying about his parents.
The more time we spend together, the harder it is to ignore the way my heart dances when Evan teases me about something I said, or the warmth that spreads through me whenever he laughs so hard his shoulders shake. Soon, he’s the first thing that pops up in my head when I wake, and the last thing I think about before I shut my eyes.
The worst part of it al , though, is the fact that I’m stil not positive he feels the same way. Pri’s convinced he does, but I’m reluctant to get my hopes
up. Sure, I’ve lost count of the number of winks he’s given me, and I’ve caught him staring at me on occasion. Beyond that, though, there’s always a distance between us he never quite closes.
Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe Evan just wants someone to talk to.
“Michel e? Michel e.”
I start as something touches my shoulder, and glance over to find Evan’s hand. I fol ow his arm up until I reach his deep brown eyes. For a breath, I see something flit across his features, but I blink and it’s gone. He grabs a chair and pushes it toward me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, sliding it under the table. “What were you saying?”
Today was the first day the city opened back up, and I’ve spent the day setting up the dining room for a limited number of dine-in customers. When Evan arrived to order as usual, Mom invited him to stay and have dinner with us instead.
“I was asking if you had any plans this summer,” he repeats.
“No. Even if COVID wasn’t happening, my parents don’t real y take any time off. The restaurant business is year-round.”
“They don’t even close for the holidays?”
I shake my head. “Nope. That’s usual y when we’re the busiest.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”
“In fact, the day you came in to pick up your dad’s to-go order was my birthday.”
Evan’s eyes widen. “You were working on your birthday?”
“Yeah, but they did get me a cake,” I feel compel ed to add.
He glances toward the kitchen as the sound of sizzling oil and clanging pots reaches our ears. Since it’s just the four of us, we’re maskless, for once, something I discover is both a blessing and a curse every time he flashes one of his signature teasing smiles.
At the moment, however, he’s watching me with a strange expression on his face.
“Wel , since I’m part of the reason you were stuck at work on your birthday,” he says slowly, “why don’t I make it up to you?”
“Technical y, I was already scheduled to work that day, so you don’t real y owe me anything,” I assure him.
“Oh.”
Evan’s face fal s as he slumps against the back of his chair. I realize belatedly that was not the reaction he was expecting. My heart starts to pound, but I work to keep my voice even.
“Why? What did you have in mind?”
Evan’s eyes snap up to meet mine. He sits up straight and swal ows.
“Wel , there’s a special exhibit about ancient Egypt coming to the Museum of Natural Science. They brought some of the artifacts found in King Tut’s tomb. They’re only letting in a few people at a time each day, so I thought maybe…we could check it out together. That is, if you want. We can also do something else.”
“No, no! It sounds real y interesting.” I take a deep breath. “I’d love to go.”
He brightens immediately. “Great! I’l figure out when the exhibit starts.”
Evan grins, and I can’t help but return it. Suddenly feeling shy, I clear my throat.
“What about you? Did you do anything to celebrate your birthday?”
He nods. “We normal y take a family vacation during winter break.”
Something about that nags at me, but I can’t figure out why. I hear a gasp and turn to find Mom frozen to the spot, a plate of fried eggplant sitting precariously in her hands.
“Did you say…winter?”
Evan frowns. “Um, yes?”
“Sounds lovely,” Mom replies, though her voice is an octave higher than normal. “Michel e, we need your help in the kitchen.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now,” she says, smiling tightly.
“Okay…”
I stand and fol ow her back to the kitchen. Once we’re hidden from view, Mom turns and hisses at me.
“I don’t want you spending any more time with Evan.”
I stare at her. “What? Why?”
Dad pokes his head out from behind the refrigerator door. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Go back to cooking,” Mom commands before turning her attention back to me. “Don’t you remember who Auntie Xin warned you about?”
Everything suddenly clicks into place, and I groan loudly.
“Mom, just because she mentioned a winter horse doesn’t mean she was talking about Evan.”
“No, it has to be him,” she insists stubbornly. “There’s no one else that fits her reading, and I won’t give him the chance to break your heart.”
“Mom, wait!”
Before I can stop her, she stomps back out into the dining room. I rush behind her as she walks up to a startled Evan.
“I’m sorry, Evan. I’m afraid something’s come up,” Mom lies. “We’l have to postpone dinner to another night.”
Evan looks at me questioningly, but I avert my gaze. I know better than to contradict her right now. Though he says nothing at first, Evan eventual y nods and stands.
“Of course, I total y understand.” He peers at me. “I’l text you later?”
“Actual y, Michel e’s going to be pretty busy with finals soon,” Mom interjects. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t bother her while she’s studying.”
His mouth fal s open. “I don’t under—”
“Don’t worry. I’l pack the food up for you,” she continues, undeterred. “I wouldn’t want you to go home hungry.”
With that, she clamps a hand onto my wrist and drags me with her. I manage to throw a single, desperate glance back before we disappear through the swinging metal doors. With one eye pinned on me, Mom packs the food into to-go containers before taking it up to the front. I turn to Dad, but he shrugs helplessly.
“You know how your mom gets about those readings. There’s no stopping her.”
Out of options, al I can do is watch as Mom shuffles Evan out the door and out of my life.
—
To make sure I don’t defy her wishes, Mom takes my phone away the minute I get home. Thankful y, she leaves my laptop for school, but she forces me to use it out in the living room. She even hires one of the old staff to work at the restaurant so she can stay home with me. Despite this, I’m able to secretly message Evan through Twitter and apologize for Mom’s behavior.
Was it something I said? Or did?
No, I type back. You didn’t do anything wrong. Things are just a lit le…
complicated right now.
For several minutes, al that appears at the bottom of the chat are three little dots. Then, a single question appears.
Do you stil want to go to the museum with me?
Hours later, I stil don’t have a good answer for him. Tucked into my favorite armchair, I’m pretending to work on the essay part of my English final. In reality, I’m asking Pri for advice about what to do. I know leaving Evan on read for so long wasn’t fair, but this isn’t an easy decision to make. If I sneak out of the house and Mom finds out, I’l be grounded for life.
A notification appears on my scre
en. It’s a message from Pri.
Pick a day and I’l cover for you. Tel your mom we’re meeting up at the museum to work on our art final.
I minimize the tab as soon as Mom walks past. The minute she walks down the hal , however, I open up Twitter again. Keeping one eye on the doorway, I type a quick reply.
I owe you, girl.
Yup, she sends back. You owe me big.
Firstborn child?
You know it.
I chuckle. Done.
The next message I send is to Evan.
Is it too late to say yes?
I hold my breath as I stare at the screen. Fifteen long minutes later, I have his answer. It makes me smile.
Depends. Is tomorrow too soon?
One hurdle down. One very big one to go.
After practicing my speech several times in my head, I find Mom in the laundry room.
“Mom? Can I meet up with Pri tomorrow so we can work on our art final?”
She eyes me with immediate suspicion. “Why can’t she just come here?”
“We’re supposed to pick a famous painting and write an essay analyzing it,” I answer. “The one we picked out is on display at the Museum of Fine Art.”
“Why today? Why can’t you go later this week?”
“The project is due by Friday, and tomorrow is the only day Pri can go.
Plus, the museum has free admission as long as we reserve a spot.”
I’ve said the magic word. Free.
“Okay, but you need to be home by dinner,” Mom says. “I don’t want you going anywhere else either. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
The next afternoon, I don my mask and take the car to the Museum of Fine Art. I pul into the parking garage and head up to the lobby, where Pri is waiting. We snap a quick picture to send to Mom, and then she hugs me tight.
“Have fun.”
While she heads home, I cut through Hermann Park to reach the Museum of Natural Science. Usual y, the museum district is packed ful of visitors enjoying the nice weather and free admission. Today, there’s only the occasional family moving along the sidewalks. When I reach my destination, I spy Evan right away, standing literal y head and shoulders above the other museumgoers in line to get inside. As I approach, he greets me with a wave.
Like me, he’s wearing a mask, but my stomach does a little flip anyway.
Together, Apart Page 13