“Good luck on the movie. I’m out of here.” I turn to go.
“Wait.”
He’s standing there, palms out, and even in the dim light I can see that he’s doing a pretty good impression of contrite. “Look, I… I saw it and I thought it was funny. Okay, so I’m an asshole. And I’m kind of drunk. I’m sorry.”
I let out a hard sigh. “Whatever. Tell Gugu I hope to see him soon.”
As I turn to go, the last I see of Marsh he’s still in that same pose, palms open, asking for forgiveness.
Chapter Nine
★
I’m riding the subway one stop to home, and I keep saying to myself, That’s it. No more stupid stuff.
I need to stop drinking so much. I need to exercise more. Figure out how I’m going to manage my pain without Percocet.
Or how to get more Percocet.
And I need to stop doing stupid stuff.
I just have to keep pushing things to the edge. Why do I do it? I’m starting to think maybe I really do want the buzz.
Or maybe I just don’t give a fuck if I keep pushing and one of these times I fall off the cliff.
Ever since the Sandbox, ever since I got blown up, I haven’t been able to get my head on straight. Before that I was so young, who knows what kind of person I’d be now if I hadn’t gone to war? Maybe I’d still do stupid stuff. But it’s like I never got the chance to actually grow up, like a normal person.
Of course, what are the odds that I would’ve grown up normal anyway?
What wakes me up the next morning is Mimi, barking.
I freeze, heart pounding. Listen.
Happy barking.
Okay, then. I settle back into bed and try to relax.
“Who’s a good dog? Who’s the best dog?”
My mom.
I reach around for my phone, which is somewhere on my bed, I think. My fingers brush against its shiny glass.
It’s 11:51 a.m. I guess I can get up now.
I mean, I walked Mimi hours ago, for about five minutes. Which I guess is not really a “walk.” But after last night…
It’s not like I had that much to drink, for me. Just the wine, and then a couple of beers when I got home. My mind wouldn’t stop going for a while, after that party.
John’s right. The second-generation rich are a creepy bunch. And if Dao Ming, Mrs. Tiantian, is a hong er dai with connections to the Party leadership…
These are really not people I want to be hanging out with.
I mean, I already have my rich friend Harrison and a Party friend… spy… whatever he is, John.
That’s enough.
There’s a Chinese proverb I learned once. Something about when tigers fight, you sit on the mountain and watch.
What you don’t do is make friends with one or both tigers. Pick the losing tiger, you’re fucked. Try to make friends with both, one of them’s bound to eat you.
I drag myself out of bed. My head feels swollen. I didn’t have that much to drink, I tell myself. The atmosphere over there was poison, that’s all.
“What am I doing?” I say out loud. “I have to stop doing this.”
I’m not sure what “this” even is.
“See what Andy got me?”
My mom is standing in the living room. There’s a big, round, cast-iron griddle sitting on top of a box next to the dining-room table.
“Was it here last night?”
“No, it just came. It’s a jianbing griddle.” She peers at the box. “I think the other thing’s a stand and a propane tank.”
“Oh, yeah.” I limp over to the kitchen. I’m thinking coffee. It occurs to me to ask, “You want to make jianbing?”
“Tortillas.”
“Oh.” I get out the coffee, scoop some into a filter. Another thing occurs to me.
“You’re not going to cook in here with that, are you? I mean, a propane tank?”
“Only if it’s safe.”
Deal with this later, I tell myself, pouring water into the coffeemaker.
Mom waits until I sit down at the table with a fresh cup before she says, “Andy and I have been talking about opening a restaurant.”
I have coffee in my mouth, so I can’t answer that right away. When I do, the best I can come up with is, “A restaurant?”
“A Mexican restaurant. Tacos mostly. Nothing too complicated.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Well, I think there’s a real market for it,” she says, and it’s hesitant enough to sound almost like an apology. “The ones I’ve tried here aren’t very good. I know I can make better salsas. I just have to get the tortillas right. And find enough good avocados for a decent price.”
I take another gulp of coffee, because this time I don’t really want to answer right away. I swallow.
“Mom, opening up a business here, it’s very tricky for a foreigner. With restaurants people’ve even had them shanzhai’d. Copied. The original owners thrown out and the business taken over.”
“I know you need a reliable Chinese partner,” my mom says. “That’s why it makes sense to do it with Andy. Andy has some money. Or he can get some money. He owns a few apartments. Plus, he has a friend who might want to invest.”
I don’t even know where to start with this.
“Okay, you’ve known Andy how long?”
Mom scrunches up her face like she’s calculating. “I think it’s been almost four months.”
“Do you even know what he does? Why he has money?”
“Some kind of state job? I think? He might be partly retired. He doesn’t seem to have to show up all the time. He said he bought the apartments back when they were cheap. I know one of them’s in Qingdao.”
“What happens if the two of you break up?”
There’s a long pause. Then a sigh. “Well, I hope that doesn’t happen. But the thing is, Ellie…” She sits down across from me. She seems… I don’t know. Weirdly calm. “Both of us want to try something new. We think this could work. And sometimes you just have to go for it.”
I study her. Her face is slightly flushed. She looks good, I think. She’s been exercising, she and Andy, ever since we got back from Yangshuo, where they bicycled and did tai chi classes together.
I think about this, about my mom being fifty-one and trying to make a fresh start yet again.
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess you do.”
What else can I say? And maybe she’s right.
“Andy and I are going to get lunch. And, after that, check out a few potential locations.” She twists her hands together, uncertain again. “Do you want to come? It’d be great to get your opinion.”
I realize, all of a sudden, that the uncertainty isn’t about what she wants to do, with the restaurant and with Andy. It’s with me. Like I’m this cat that might respond with a hiss and a scratch.
“Yeah, I’d… I’d like to. But I have some things I need to do.”
I really am a shit.
She doesn’t look surprised, or even disappointed. It’s probably what she expected me to say.
“Maybe, if you want, we could look at some places in a couple of days?” I offer.
She smiles. “That sounds great, hon.”
She probably thinks I don’t really mean it. Who knows? Maybe I don’t. But I could. I could be a little nicer. Pretend like I’m a grown-up, even if I’m not.
Mimi dances around my mom like she’s about to get a walk. “Sorry, puppy,” my mom says, ruffling the fur at her neck. “Some of these places probably don’t like dogs much.”
“Except on the menu,” I mutter.
My mom rolls her eyes.
“I’ll take you for a walk, I promise,” I tell Mimi after she leaves. “I just have to do some stuff first.”
What stuff, I really don’t know. Check email. Shower maybe.
Decide what I’m going to tell Sidney about last night.
We haven’t had the museum meeting yet, I tell myself. I could try to put it off a little longer.