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At Four: An Experience with Loss
She doesn’t really understand what’s happening.
Doesn’t know why they’re sitting in front of a large rectangular box about the size of her Ba. Her Ma’s with Waipo, sitting with their heads close together. They’re holding hands. Waipo’s got her handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Her shoulders tremble.
Katy thinks maybe she should do something.
She reaches her hand out to her Ba, who’s sitting beside her. He’s got his arms crossed. He looks tired.
She lays her hand on a curled fist by the side of his rib cage. He jolts, looks down, catches her gaze.
For a moment, his eyes seem to shake. Katy’s never seen that before. It scares her a little. He’s always either blank-faced or has a patient smile; she knows, because he tends to have both expressions constantly set upon her whenever and wherever she’s around.
She doesn’t like that look on his face now. Doesn’t suit her Ba. It’s not him.
So, she crosses her eyes and blows a raspberry.
It works.
Baba laughs.
He uncrosses his arms, takes her small hand in his.
Much later, when Katy’s grown and can understand grief and loss better, she’ll be grateful for the naïve foolishness she had as a kid.
It’s what kept her Baba going. It’s what kept her Mama preoccupied. It’s what her Waipo cherishes.
Right now, though, Baba simply holds on to her hand, caresses her fingers. He looks kinder and older. Looks better than he did earlier. Katy wonders if there’s such thing as magic – and maybe there is because what else can explain how gentle Baba is now, holding her hand.
He’s still looking at her.
Baba lifts his other hand to cup her small head. It’s small enough that his whole hand covers the top of it.
She shifts, unsure. She thinks hard. Maybe if she tries again, he might be able to reply, so she asks, “Can I see Waigong now?”
His eyes don’t tremble as much as they did before. “Okay.”
Katy’s already four, but she’s the smallest in her kindergarten class. Sometimes the older kids still call her a baby because she’s a third of their size. They don’t let her play with them in the playground. It’s dangerous, they tell her, you’re still a baby.
Baba lifts her up easily. She likes being in his arms. Misses it. It feels nice to be somewhere taller than where she’s usually perched at the height of someone’s knee.
Her Mama doesn’t do it anymore, even discourages her Baba from carrying her. She thinks it’s because it hurts their backs – they’re older than the big kids she usually trots after in school.
They get to the rectangular box. She looks down.
“Baba,” she pulls on his ear. He grabs her hand. Holds it close to his heart. “Why’s Waigong sleeping in a box? He must be uncomfortable.”
She’s never really learned how to speak softly, so Katy’s always been loud. Her mother keeps berating her for it.
It explains why the strangers in the room burst out in watery laughter. She thinks she likes the sound of it. Thinks it’s infinitely better than the silence before.
“Maybe we can get him a pillow?” She continues. Baba laughs, clutches her hand tighter. There’s a tear at the corner of his eye that Katy reaches up to wipe away. “I can share my blankie with him. Just for a little bit. Then I want it back because it’s my blankie.”
“Waigong won’t need it,” Baba replies kindly. “He’s comfortable where he’s at.”
“Doesn’t look comfortable to me.” She eyes the box critically.
Someone at the back snorts.
“Don’t worry, Ruiwen-ah. He is.” She’s not sure why he’s using her Chinese name, but it sounds serious, so Katy leans back to look at her dad properly. She places both her small hands on his cheeks, presses so that his mouth looks like a fish.
“But how do you know? When Waigong wakes up, he’ll say his knees hurt again.”
Baba sighs. Holds her closer. Shakes her hands loose. “Ruiwen, Waigong’s not going to wake up.”
“Why?”
“He’s . . . gone.”
“Where?”
There’s a hand on her back suddenly. She turns. Mama’s there, and she’s got the same look she always has when Katy comes home from a playdate in mud and leaves. “Somewhere nicer, Ruiwen-ah.”
“Nicer than the playground?”
People laugh.
It feels good to make people laugh, Katy deliberates. I should do it more often.
“Yes, Baobei. Nicer than the playground.”
“Oh.” Katy pauses. Reaches to touch her Mama’s face. “I hope his knees don’t hurt there.”
At Nine: An Experience with Uncertainty
There’s a house down their road that’s empty. It looks like their own, except the bottom half of it isn’t a convenience store. Instead, the first floor is boarded up. There’s graffiti on the metal shutters.
It sits at the corner that turns left. It’s still. Quiet. The lights are always off.
Her mother tells her not to pry when she asks. It’s complicated, she says.
Katy doesn’t really know why it’s complicated.
It’s just an empty house.
She’s got one hand on the back of her five-year-old baby brother. She’s teaching him how to ride her old three-wheeler bike. It’s still got the rainbow tussles it came with, but Ruihua doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t really mind that the bike’s pink either. Just enjoys riding it.
Mama’s in their store a few blocks down the road from where they’re at. She knows Mama can see them easily; they’re not that far.
Katy knows.
She people-watches this same spot from their store whenever she’s helping Baba stock up.
It’s also a quiet Tuesday afternoon. There’re not many cars. Katy still makes sure they’re careful, though, makes sure that they stick to the sidewalk and not the road.
She doesn’t want Didi to get hurt.
They pause in front of the empty house.
Didi’s panting.
She pulls at her backpack, takes out his water bottle. “Didi, drink some water, please.”
She helps him twist open the bottle, cups her hand under his small chin. Her brother isn’t very talkative, not like Katy. He just sits and listens. Sometimes, it gets boring because Katy wants to have someone she can talk to who will talk back.
But it’s okay.
She can talk to herself.
And Ruihua can listen all he wants.
She’ll talk enough for them both.
Didi gulps down the water, and she pulls the bottle away from him. “Slower, Didi-ah. You’ll give yourself a hiccup.”
She hears something fall from the empty house. It sounds like glass.
She looks up.
There.
Up at the second floor, there’s a boy who looks like her. He’s desperately trying to pick up a fallen vase on a table by the side of the window. The curtains are pulled up, so she can see him clumsily trying to pick up the broken pieces.
She finds it curious; she’s never been this close to the house before, so she doesn’t know there’re actual stuff inside. Or people.
Also, she thinks he might hurt his hand. The pieces look sharp. Mama always told her never to touch anything sharp.
“Jieijie,” Ruihua complains, tugs at her hand. “Water, please.”
“Oh, sorry,” she turns back to him. Helps him hold up his drink again. She watches him take careful sips. Pats his small head happily when it appears that he listened to her. “Done?”
He pulls away, nodding. She’s putting the bottle back inside her backpack when she hears it.
She looks up.
It’s the boy.
And he’s hissing in pain. Loudly. He’s holding his hand to his chest.
Katy thinks he must’ve hurt himself.
This is why Mama says never to touch something sharp.
“Give me a minute, Didi,” she turns to her baby brother. Pats his head again.
She keeps one hand on him and turns again to face the not-so-empty house.
“Hi!” She shouts.
She knows she’s loud. She’s always been loud. But she feels she needs to be louder in this instance, facing the other boy who’s looking down at his hand and is pressing the bottom of his shirt against his finger.
The boy startles at her greeting. Looks down at her. He’s still by the window.
“I’ve got some band-aids! Here!” She shakes her backpack. “Do you want it?”
He looks afraid.
Katy thinks he might be mute.
Or deaf.
He doesn’t seem like he understood her.
So, she pulls out the band-aids from her backpack. Waves it at him.
He still looks like he doesn’t understand her, though. Maybe he can’t really see the band-aids. He’s pretty high up. She raises her arms higher. Hollers, “Band-aids!”
The boy sees what she’s holding. She can see understanding dawn on his face. He breaks out a timid smile but shakes his head slightly. He turns and walks away from the window.
Katy waits for a couple more minutes.
When it doesn’t seem like he was returning, she grabs Ruihua’s hand. Pulls him towards the not-so-empty house. “Here, Didi,” she tells him as she takes out the water bottle, uses it to hold down the band-aids she’s got. “What do we do when we see someone who needs help?”
“We help.” His voice is small. He’s watching her arrange the band-aids neatly in a small pile. She doesn’t know how bad the boy’s hurt. She remembers how much she bled when she accidentally cut herself on her art scissors in class that one time.
She thinks she should’ve brought more.
Didi helps her rearrange the water bottle so that it covers a corner of the band-aid pile she’s made.
She beams at him and stands back up. “Good job, Didi! You helped!”
Her baby brother looks up at her. He smiles a very gummy smile. Her heart melts a little.
She’ll sneak in a White Rabbit candy at dinner today and give it to Didi.
At Fifteen: An Experience with Taking Chances
Katy’s running late.
She’s a blur of activity. Tries and fails to rush past her Ma, who grabs her by the arm and shoves a pastry in a plastic disposable bag at her. She doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t have the time to check. She says her thanks, grabs her backpack from its perch on the kitchen counter.
Gives Waipo a kiss goodbye. Ruffles Didi’s hair. He complains lightly, but she still sees his impish smile.
“Good luck!” They call, as she pulls on her shoes in the hallway, then slams the door shut.
She hurries down the stairs, goes through the store. Waves at her Ba.
He grunts. Waves back.
Soo’s waiting for her at the bus stop. She’s shifting from foot to foot, looks every bit as excited as Katy is.
“Dude, you’re so lucky we didn’t miss the bus yet.” Soo huffs, peering at Katy. She pauses. “You’re wearing that to your first day?”
It’s just high school.
Katy doesn’t understand the need to be fashionable.
She looks down at her graphic tee and black jeans. Doesn’t see anything wrong with it. She’s got a hoodie in her bag in case she gets cold. She looks back up at Soo, who’s wearing a lovely peasant top in a pale hue of blue. She’s got black jeggings on to match.
She looks really pretty.
Katy swallows a comeback. Chooses to compliment her friend instead. “You look good, Soo.”
It works.
Soo blushes.
They find out their classes are all different. They’ve only got homeroom together. Katy’s always been the extroverted one between the two of them, so she doesn’t really mind the separation. Soo’s a nervous wreck, though, so Katy makes faces at her, tries to get her to ease up.
She gets to her class first and hugs Soo goodbye.
When she steps into her Economics class, she notices that there’re already a few occupants there. She sees a few Asian kids sitting at the first and second rows.
Katy wonders whether she should sit with them in solidarity, but then remembers that she doesn’t really want to work that hard.
She moves to the center of the class, takes a seat by the edge of it. It’s close enough to the front that it’ll be easier to see the board and is far enough that the teacher might not be able to catch her scrolling through her social media feeds when she gets bored.
The chair beside her creaks as it’s pulled away from the desk.
She turns.
It’s another Asian kid. He’s got on a simple black tee, tight around the shoulders and loose around the torso. His black hoodie is draped across one shoulder, and he’s got his headphones on. He’s looking down at his phone, thumbing the screen.
Katy’s always been friendly. She’s not afraid of talking, even has a problem keeping her mouth shut. Her mom and Soo can definitely attest to that fact.
She waits till he puts his headphones away. He’s already reaching into his bag, pulling out their textbook when Katy says, “”Hi!”
His shoulders twitch. He turns his head.
“Uh, hi?” He smiles timidly.
It reminds Katy of her baby brother. Would’ve been adorable, except the kid in front of her looks very lost. He’s got this stern set to his brows that makes him look older than their fifteen years. He’s also already got lines on his forehead.
“I’m Katy.” She offers a hand. He takes it.
“Shangqi.”
They shake hands.
Katy pulls her hand away. “Nice to meet you, Shaun Chi.”
The corners of his lip pull up a little. Katy thinks he looks much better smiling like this. “It’s, uh, Shang-qi. S-h-a-n-g.”
She refuses to feel embarrassed. She’s a true-blue American. The only words in Mandarin that she knows and can speak – with proper intonation – are her family’s respective addresses. “Oh! Sorry. Shan Chee.”
His lips pull up higher. He looks amused. “Shang.”
“Shan?” She tries again.
“Okay, now you’re just mocking me.” He laughs lightly.
Katy really likes the sound of his laughter; it makes her feel better about messing up his name. He’s still smiling when he says, “You can just call me Shaun, if it makes it easier for you.”
“No, I got this.” She insists, stubborn as always. “Shang. See? I got it. Shangqi.”
She wants to retort something, maybe make up a joke. Then the teacher calls the class to attention.
When class ends, she asks Shangqi what other classes he has. He shows her his schedule.
“Ooh, dude,” she cheers, “we’ve got a lot of the same classes!”
He shifts closer to her. Peers down at his schedule. “Sweet. Which ones?”
She rattles off the classes they’re both in. Points at them. He’s still smiling, which makes Katy smile too.
Looks like they’re off to a good start.
They go to their next class together.
Katy finds out that he likes My Chemical Romance, by virtue of his Spotify playlist he dutifully shows her when she asks. “We can’t be friends if our music tastes don’t align,” she’d told him, then takes it back because it’s not really true. “I mean, we can be, but then we need to work out a compromise or things can get pretty ugly.”
She also finds out that he likes Asian snacks. She finds out about this because she pulls a White Rabbit candy out to munch on when they enter Calculus together. She finds out because he’s staring intently at the wrapper she’s holding on to.
“I got some more, if you want.” She reaches into the front pouch of her bag. Pulls out a handful. Offers a few to him.
His answering smile makes her feel like the room’s suddenly brighter than before. He takes the candies, says thanks. “Been awhile since I had these.”
“I got plenty back home. I can bring a packet for you if you want.”
The grin he gives her then looks like it belongs in an art exhibit.
Katy thinks that she’s going to try and make him smile like that more often. Now that they’re friends, she thinks she can pull it off – if she can make Soo snort out Pepsi through her nose with one of her jokes, surely she can help make this boy look a lot less severe.
Make him smile more.
Make him a little happier.
Or maybe he won’t want to be her friend after a while. She remembers the boys back in her junior high – they cut her off after puberty began to hit, like she had some sort of disease. The experience still stings a little because they were really good friends of hers.
She’s not so sure about Shangqi, but she’s still going to try anyway.
Katy’s nothing but stubborn, after all.
At Seventeen: An Experience with Attraction
“Connor’s totally gonna ask you out.”
Katy stares at Soo, not really following. “Who?”
Soo rolls her eyes so hard that it makes Katy wonder whether it hurts.
“Katy, he literally sits beside you in Lit.”
She looks back down at her phone. Shangqi’s class should’ve ended some time ago. She knows it doesn’t take more than twelve minutes for him to get out of Bio and head straight to their usual spot at the bleachers.
He’s usually here in ten.
She shakes the paper bag she’s got on her lap a little and hopes that he makes it in time before the steamed red bean buns she’d brought from home gets cold. She had to play nice with her band teacher to let her use the staff’s microwave – she’d managed to wheedle out a compromise with him by offering to clean up after practice today.
“Katy,” Soo exhales. She sounds irritated now. Whoops.
“I really don’t know who he is, Soo,” Katy frowns. “Is he the one who keeps copying Shangqi’s notes?”
“No, that’s Ethan. Connor’s the guy who keeps calling Shangqi Gangnam Style.”
Katy suddenly recalls why she doesn’t know who the asshole is. She doesn’t really care much for people who makes fun of other people, much less her friends.
She pulls a face. “Ew.”
“I think he bothers Shangqi ‘cuz it’s the only way to get to you.” Soo leans in, steals her bun, and ignores Katy’s protest.
She pouts at her, then reaches into her paper bag to grab another one. There’re three more left, plenty for Shangqi who’s grown a large appetite suddenly in the past year.
Katy bites into her bun. She shrugs at Soo.
It’s not like she hasn’t been out on dates before.
She’s been on a few, here and there. Mostly, she thinks she just went because of peer pressure; everyone she knows suddenly has a boyfriend or girlfriend, or wants one, the minute they stepped into their junior year.
If she’s being honest, she thinks dating isn’t all that.
She thinks she much prefers goofing around with Shangqi and Soo in the arcade (when they could afford it) or just chilling at her parents’ convenience store, watching reruns of Friends (when they couldn’t).
She tries not to think about the number of times she’s had to pay back the snacks they’d all consumed, though. She finds the cost to be quite alarming.
“I really don’t care whether he asks me out or not.” Katy raises a shoulder. Drops it. Watches as Soo looks baffled at her statement. She explains, “He’s a bully. I don’t like bullies.”
Soo’s pressed lips transforms to a pleased smile. She looks at Katy with a softness in her eyes that makes her a little uncomfortable. Katy doesn’t really know why she’s looking at her like that; it’s not like she solved world hunger.
Her friend leans on her. “Yeah, I figured. You’re too nice for him, K.”
“Who’s nice for who?”
Katy turns so quickly that she gets whiplash. “Hi!”
Shangqi smiles brightly at her. “Hey, you.”
It’s only been two years since they met, but Katy thinks she’s made significant progress with Shangqi. It used to be painful, trying to pull out a smile, much less a laugh, from him.
Sometimes he’s still got that repressed look he gets whenever he can’t decide whether to be indifferent or not.
It took a while, and a lot of embarrassment on her end, but she likes that he’s more open nowadays. Freer. He’s smiling more now, so she takes it as a win.
She hands him the paper bag as he settles in beside her. Soo’s still leaning on her other side, so Katy ends up being the baloney to their sandwich. Not unlike most of the time whenever they’re hanging out together.
“Got you your favorite red bean buns before they sold out.”
He pumps a fist. “Fuck, yeah. Thanks, dude.””
She beams at him and goes back to munching on her own bun with gusto now.
“What’s the hold up?” Soo asks Shangqi. She’s scrolling through Twitter on her phone, not really paying attention to her surroundings, as she leans against Katy, who leans against Shangqi. “You’re usually here as soon as Bio ends.”
Katy chews harder. She tries to feign disinterest.
Because she’s got her head pressed up against his bicep – she doesn’t know why it’s so firm, it’s not like Shangqi was part of any sports club in school – she feels more than sees his shrug. “Some girl asked me out to prom.”
Oh.
Soo squeals right into her ear.
Katy stops munching and cringes. She feels her eardrum sting a little, reaches out to press her hand gently against her ear. She hears a faint ringing sound and immediately gets concerned.
“Who, who, who, who–”
Shangqi shifts so that he’s got one arm resting behind Katy on their bench. It gets more comfortable for her; she can rest on his side better.
“You know any Samantha in your Calculus class?”
Katy knows a Sam in her Spanish. She’s got blonde hair that curls nicely at the ends. Pretty smile, prettier laugh. She’s got the kind of blue eyes that she thinks most contact lenses companies’ base their colors off on.
Sometimes, Sam helps Katy with their schoolwork in class – the blonde’s really good at the language because her dad’s Spanish, and they speak it often at home.
“Yeah,” Soo answers, “she’s on the Decathlon team.”
And apparently, wicked smart too.
She turns her head up a little, trying to see what kind of expression is on Shangqi’s face. She’s surprised to see him already looking down at her. He flits his gaze away from her, turns his head to the left and busies himself with his second bun.
Katy can’t see him now, so she pulls away and leans up and forward, presses her hands against his thigh as she tries to get in his face. Soo laughs at her antics.
“Dude – what – stop it,” he pushes at her face with one gentle hand. It feels cold on her cheek.
She reaches up to grab it with both her hands. Rubs the offending appendage between her hands quickly to warm it up. She saw Bear Grylls do this to a piece of wood on TV, so, logically, it should work.
Shangqi looks back down at her.
There’s something else on his face that’s she’s never seen before. She wonders why seeing it makes her stomach flutter.
“Well, what d’you say?!” Soo asks, excited, her phone display already showing Sam’s Instagram profile.
Shangqi gives Katy a soft smile, a secret one, the same one she catches him giving her sometimes when he thinks she’s not looking back. He turns to Soo.
He replies, “I said no.”
“Bro, why?!” Her friend moans. She reaches over to punch him in the arm, which he neatly dodges. He’s careful not to jostle Katy, though, moves away enough so that Soo can’t reach him. He keeps the arm he has behind her in place.
“Just didn’t feel up to it.”
That’s news to Katy.
She pulls away from him, grabs the empty paper bag from Shangqi and crumples. She stands, darts away from him when he tries to grab the trash from her so he can throw it himself. She makes the short trek to the recycling bins down by the side of the football field.
When she gets back, she notices that they’re trying really hard to keep a straight face. Soo has this smugness to her. She throws Katy a knowing grin.
Shangqi looks at everything but her.
She hesitates.
Katy’s not one to pry, usually. She thinks her mother beat that habit out of her when she was much younger. Or at least, tried to. Sometimes, Katy can’t help but be a little nosy.
There’s a very awkward silence that falls upon the three of them.
She chooses to be the bigger person here; if there’s something they want her to know, they’ll tell her on their own time and choice. So, she plays dumb and goes back to her seat.
She leans on Shangqi again, hums out a song she’s been practicing on her trumpet earlier this week.
Shangqi shifts and puts his arm behind her again.
At Twenty-Two: An Experience with Heartache
“I’m gonna fucking kill that guy.”
Shangqi’s pacing the length of their convenience store. He looks like he might grab a canned tomato and hurl it at something, which in turn would cost her some money to pay back the damaged goods.
Katy blows into her tissue. She tries to contain her tears but she’s failing miserably. She moves quickly to grab a hold of his arm when he makes the next lap and arrives near her.
He lets her stop him. Simply stares at her for a while.
He looks supremely pissed. She finds that nothing beats feeling this dumb and embarrassed in front of her best friend.
She feels awful, wants to curl up into a ball and never get up again. Humiliation creeps up under her and takes her by surprise as Shangqi continues to stare at her, keeping his gaze steady. Behind his obsidian eyes, she imagines there’s a storm brewing.
He looks just a little bit terrifying.
She drops her hand on his arm. Looks away.
The tears well up again.
He lets out a strange noise, something between a grunt and a scoff. His brows furrow the same way they do when he’s focusing on his data analytics college assignments that he usually complains about.
Then he gathers her in his arms, holds her very close to him, leaves no space between the two of them. He holds her tightly, crushes her gently, keeps a hand on the back of her neck, one arm spanning her whole back while the other stays firmly around her waist.
She sobs into his chest.
“It’s stupid,” she cries. “I’m stupid. I’m so, so stupid.”
He shushes her. “You’re not. Stop that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop that, too.” She didn’t know that it’s possible to be any closer to him, but he proves her wrong anyway by holding her even tighter. She thinks he’s doing it, so she doesn’t break into pieces.
In hindsight, she should’ve probably seen it coming.
Andy, her boyfriend of a year and half, had recently started pulling away from her. She chalked it up to the pressures of being a final-year undergrad in a prestigious university – Berkeley wasn’t Ivy league for nothing, and even for Katy, who was pretty good at going with the flow, suffered under the grueling coursework.
Missed texts turned into missed calls, and missed calls turned into missed dates. Missed dates turned into missed events, and missed events turned into missed relationship milestones, like their anniversary.
Then she’d opened the text from Soo earlier this afternoon and felt sick to her stomach.
Is this Andy????
It was a photo of a guy with a girl in a club. They looked intimate; in other words, they had their hands all over each other.
Soo was still in class, so Katy hadn’t responded to her. Didn’t want her to get worried.
She’d forwarded the text and photo to Shangqi, though, who barreled into her family’s convenience store an hour after she’d hit send. Later, she’ll think about how quick he was to respond, and even later, she’ll think about how he knew where she was going to be without even dropping her a call.
In the meantime, she continues to sob into his chest and effectively ruin his shirt. She’s not tall enough that she can reach his shoulder, and she’ll probably have to ask Didi for a spare shirt that he can lend Shangqi.
“God, I really, really liked him.” She hiccups. “I really did.”
He shushes her again. She feels him resting his chin on the top of her head.
She’s grateful he’s got her. She thinks she wouldn’t be able to function all that well if left alone to her own devices.
There’s a chime on the convenience store door, and they’re forced to pull away. He keeps his arms around her, calls over his shoulder, “We’re closed!”
“It’s me,” Soo huffs. Katy looks up and sees Soo flushed. She’s sweating a little and panting like she ran over here. Maybe she did. Soo’s not the type to rush anywhere unless she’s needed there. She pauses, sucks in a breath, sees Katy’s state, and immediately rushes to grab her from Shangqi. “Oh, honey, c’mere.”
Soo’s hug doesn’t quite comfort her like Shangqi’s does. He’s still got a hand on her back, almost like he wants to keep her close. She feels better at the warmth of his palm sitting in between her shoulder blades; that, paired with Soo’s coos, makes her feel marginally better about her pretty shitty day.
It takes a few hours.
Her family sees how horrid Katy looks.
They choose not to comment.
She thinks her dad finds out though, through Shangqi, because he looks apoplectic. It’s almost comical that Shangqi’s got the exact same expression, except his is more contained – he’s always been the one who manages to restrain himself better in stressful conditions.
Her mother prepares some herbal soup for her.
Didi offers Shangqi his largest sized shirt.
It still doesn’t fit him. His shoulders and chest are almost twice the size of Ruihua. He’s got arms about the size of Katy’s head.
He still wears it anyway, disappears into Didi’s room to change. She thinks that’s when he explains to Ruihua what’s happened. Her baby brother comes out of his room livid, spewing cuss words that doesn’t match his usual sweet demeanor.
She’s nursing a pint of her favorite ice-cream, sharing it with Shangqi. Soo had left, after getting Katy to calm down; she had a shift in the bodega she was working in that she couldn’t get out off.
She’d been apologetic, instructing Shangqi not to leave her side until she ended work and could come back to Katy’s home again.
He’d simply responded with a dead-pan look.
He’s with her now, as Katy tries to process everything that’s happened.
She doesn’t know how to verbalize her emotions. She’s usually good at it. But words fail her now. She can’t seem to find the right way to phrase how fucked up she feels. Like she’s somehow a failure for not being enough.
Because, damn, she really liked Andy. And they’d been together for a year and a half.
She thinks about the small gifts he’s shared with her, like the trumpet stickers she’d adored when they stumbled upon this retro store during one of their walks downtown. Or the pair of ear studs that he’d surprised her with one time, because she paused in front of this jewelry store and admired its display for a bit.
Her lip trembles.
It isn’t until Shangqi wraps an arm around her that she realizes that the spoonful she had was already melting back into the pint on her lap.
He hugs her to his side. “He’s a fucking idiot for cheating on you.”
“Yeah, he is,” she agrees. “Still doesn’t hurt any less, though.”
“I wish . . .” he trails off.
“What?”
“I wish you didn’t like him as much.” There’s a bitterness to his tone, something she’s never heard before. “Then you wouldn’t be hurting like this.”
She’s quiet as she thinks carefully over her next words.
For some reason, she thinks about the little boy in the empty house by the corner of their street.
When she was younger, after that chance encounter, she’d gone back several times just to check on the boy. The house remained dark; the curtains were drawn. She didn’t tell her mother what she saw that day in case her mother scolds her for being nosy again.
She never saw the boy again, though.
She did, however, see a small, yellow flower lying on the same spot where she’d put the band-aids. She assumed it came from the boy, since the same water bottle she’d given him helped anchor the flower onto the concrete.
“Maybe it’s a sign, you know.” She concludes, looking up at Shangqi. She pushes away the melted ice-cream. “Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out between me and him, even if I did like him that much.” She stammers a little at the last few words but picks up her courage. “Maybe he’s confused, frustrated. Maybe he didn’t know how to explain his issues better, and I just wasn’t listening.”
“Katy, please tell me you’re not actually justifying him cheating on you.” He sounds disgusted.
She shakes her head. “I’m just . . . trying to be understanding. I hate that he cheated. I hate that he didn’t just tell me what was wrong. And I hate that I was dumb enough to ignore all the signs. Maybe then we could’ve avoided all of this.”
He looks frustrated. Takes his arm away from her. She watches him clench his fist.
“He’s a fucking douchebag for hurting you, Katy,” he’s glaring at her now, eyes wild with fury. She’s taken aback because she never once thought that he didn’t like Andy.
She sees now that there seems to be some sort of underlying issue Shangqi had with her ex; why else would he react this way?
He continues, “For once in your life, could you please stop being so . . . Katy about this? You’re hurt. Feel it. Cry it out. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. So, you can lash out all you want.”
“Wait, what do you mean about me being, well, me?” Katy scoots away from him, leans back so she can see him properly. He runs a hand through his hair. She sees him clench and unclench his fist several times. There’s a tick to his jaw that looks dangerous.
She doesn’t want to fight him, not when she’s already feeling this emotionally compromised, but seeing him this furious guilts her.
She lets him work through his emotions.
The thing about Shangqi is this – he doesn’t just up and leave. Whatever he’s feeling, whatever he thinks he needs to say, he’s usually taking his time to find a way to best phrase it. Through the years, Katy knows it’s a practice he does because he’d been raised to use only Mandarin.
It wasn’t till he entered elementary school that he had a decent chance at learning English.
So, it’s not surprising to see him try and gather his thoughts together. Probably in a way that won’t hurt Katy as much – Shangqi’s considerate like that.
She also knows, now that he’s much older and is fluent in four languages including English, that he spends time thinking carefully about what he chooses to say and do because he’s a firm believer in actions having meanings.
He’s so unlike Katy, who’s ruled by her emotions.
Eventually, he calms down, picks up the ice-cream and closes the lid. Heads to the kitchen, where her Ba and Ma is, who she knows are just sparing her the privacy she needs. She thinks Waipo’s with them since she doesn’t hear the rattling of her cane in her room down by the corridor.
When he returns, he moves to sit right beside her. Puts his arm back around her.
She’s wary but allows him to rest his head on hers.
“You’re too kind, sometimes, Katy.” He sighs. “You’re always seeing the better side of things, of people. You’ve got so much empathy for other people that you sometimes forget to have some for yourself.”
He pauses. There’s a small pressure against the top of her forehead. It’s warm. It feels like the shape of his lips.
“I’m not naïve, if that’s what you’re trying to say.” She presses closer to him. She likes that he doesn’t mind her need to be touchy with him in this moment. “I can make my own judgements. I just like to–”
He nudges her thigh with his. “Think better of people. I know.”
She purses her lips.
Later, when he leaves, Katy texts Soo not to come. I’m okay, really. I just need a minute to myself. Shangqi got me calmed down. It’s late and you’ve still got that 8am class tomorrow.
You should rat him out on Insta. You’ve got the pic. You’ve got the story. Drag his ass, came her reply.
She did, in fact, think about it.
There’s a humiliation that can’t be understated. A certain blow that hits right at her pride. In some vindicative way, she wants a form of retribution, something that she can hold against him.
Make him hurt, just like he hurt her.
He’s the one who chose to cheat on her in public, of all places. She feels very strongly about ruining him to all their friends.
Before she knows it, she has the photo set up on her Insta Story. She’s about to tag him, and write a caption, when her thumb pauses.
She thinks about Andy and the times he’d been sweet. Thinks about splitting a protein bar with him as he sent her off to her first class of the day. Thinks about the time when he’d held her hand the whole night, sitting with her in the waiting room of the hospital as Waipo underwent surgery for her knee joint.
Thinks about him and the time and effort he took to understand her culture, her traditions, because he wasn’t of the same race and wanted to be respectful not only to her, but her entire family.
She ends up deleting the photo. Unfollows him instead.
The next evening, she goes to his dorm room to collect her stuff. It doesn’t need to be said; they both know why she’s there and why she’s carrying a large, empty box to fit her things in.
It does surprise her to see him pressing a bag of ice against the stinker he’s got.
Soo snorts beside her.
Katy feels gratified, just a little.
She understands why Shangqi chose not to come, and instead asked to meet her back at her dorm room when she’s done.
Katy’s a kind person. Or, she tries to be, anyway. She has enough self-awareness to know that.
She puts in a lot of effort to always think and look deeper at a person and their situation; likes to try and be the better person, because there’s not a lot of good in the world. So, she tries to be a brighter spark for someone, if only because kindness is learned through practice.
Andy refuses to look at her. Keeps a good amount of distance between them.
She’s got her back turned away from him, so he doesn’t see her smiling a little as she packs her hoodie and sweatshirts up.
And if Soo notices Katy’s steps are lighter when they walk away from his dorm, she chooses to speak nothing of it, only reaches out to hold her hand.
At Twenty-Five: An Experience with Falling in Love
Katy doesn’t know when it starts.
It somehow feels very natural.
Just like breathing.
Just like blinking.
Just like walking.
She thinks it starts when she first notices how Shangqi hasn’t had any relationship that could be considered long-term. She used to think that he had issues with commitment, since he seems to never want to keep seeing the same person for a prolonged period.
She thinks it’s got something to do with a past he never wants to talk about.
Maybe it starts when she realizes that she seldom meets his dates. Not for any lack of her trying to, though, because she wants her best friend to be happy and thinks that maybe he’s just a little too picky with who he chooses to have a nice dinner with.
Maybe it starts when she begins to see the tendrils of his affection towards her, often instantiated by shy glances that skirt away whenever she catches him looking at her. It’s happening more often now, especially since nowadays it’s only just been Katy and Shangqi, instead of Katy and Shangqi and Soo.
Maybe it starts when he quietly reaches for the tongs whenever they go for Korean barbeque, knowing that Katy either gets distracted by the side-dishes and forgets something’s cooking, or gets too impatient and ends up munching on undercooked meat.
Maybe it starts when he lines up her favorite hits to sing at karaoke, without even asking her what she wants. He’ll get to twenty of Katy’s all-timers before she even finishes putting on the protective cloth covering on their mikes.
Or, maybe it starts back when they were seventeen, and he’d begun to open up a lot more around her, both emotionally and physically.
It happens so naturally that it doesn’t really surprise her. It isn’t so much as a revelation than it is an acceptance of a fact.
It’s something that, in retrospect, she must’ve known along.
The feeling settles in the pit of her stomach, whispers its way up and covers her heart in warm layers of affection. She shifts in her seat in front of her desk, her office computer blinks up a document in front of her, and she knows she should be reading her emails.
But she finds herself taking out her phone instead. Pulls up her iMessage.
Katy’s never been one to keep secrets, especially not from Shangqi. It’s one of the many things that differentiate him from her – he holds his secrets tightly to his chest.
She, on the other hand, doesn’t mind that he opts not to share his secrets with her, not in the same way that she does with him when it comes to her own thoughts.
It’s so easy, typing out the message.
It feels like something’s she done a hundred million times before.
It’s so easy.
Just like breathing.
It doesn’t surprise her.
Hey, she types, I love you.
His response comes a few minutes later. I love you too, then, what brought this on?
It’s four in the afternoon; Katy gets off work in an hour and a half, the same as Shangqi. She knows he’ll take about forty minutes to commute from his office location in the swankier part of San Fran to her workplace. When they got their first Big Boy Jobs, Shangqi had insisted on sending and fetching her to and from her office.
His argument back then bordered on the fact that he used to do the same thing for her back in high school and through university. When Katy continued to look at him skeptically, he’d forced her into a bet that she ultimately lost.
She thinks she can be more patient.
Besides, it’ll be better to tell him straight to the face. She wants to see what kind of expression he’ll wear when she does.
Katy doesn’t worry about rejection. Never has.
She’s always been one who rolls with the punches. It may hurt, but she thinks it’s a necessary evil.
This time, too, she doesn’t have any doubts. Only understanding.
She’s pretty confident about it. Knows in her gut that she’s not reading him wrong. If anything, she feels guilty it’s taken her this long to figure it out.
Then again, she guesses she can put some blame on Shangqi’s propensity for stoicism – something that she’s still trying to break him out of it, a decade’s worth of effort that’s still in progress.
She responds quickly to him that she’ll see him after work instead.
Katy’s waiting right outside the gates to the main entrance of her office, standing by the side of it, when she sees him walking briskly on the sidewalk. He’s on his phone, thumb furiously scrolling up, and she knows he’s probably skimming through his boss’s emails to him.
He’s always been the more practical one, so instead of a briefcase, he’s carrying a backpack that she’d gifted him when he got accepted to his accountancy job. He’d been enthused about it, and still has some posts of him modelling the bag saved as a highlight on his Instagram.
Really, she thinks, it’s always been there all along.
As if he knows she’s staring at him, he looks up. His eyes widen, and he breaks out into a handsome smile that charms Katy even at this distance. He waves his phone at her, eyes all crinkled up, and she wants to keep that smile to herself and cherish it.
When he reaches her, he puts his phone away, gently pokes her in the cheek. “Hey, you.”
Before he can pull his hand away, she reaches up, holds it in her hand and cups it to her face.
“You know, you really are piece of work sometimes.” She smiles at him, still holding his hand to her face.
He snorts, grabs her handbag from her, then wraps his free arm around her shoulders.
They walk away from her office together towards the direction of the nearest bus stop. “Kinda giving me a whiplash here, K. First you say you love me, then you tell me I’m a d-bag. What’s a guy to do?”
She settles into his side. Notices that he walks slower than he did before. Realizes that he does it in consideration of her, knowing that she can’t quite keep up with his faster pace since she’s vertically challenged.
She thinks she should be offended but instead finds herself quite taken by his thoughtfulness.
Because it’s the only thing that she can reach, she turns her head, presses her lips against his shoulder.
“A guy could take me out on a date.”
He jerks to a stop.
Katy looks up.
Yep, she thinks giddily. Worth it.
“When were you ever going to tell me, dummy?” She smiles. Reaches up to cup his face. She’s well aware they’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, probably disrupting other people.
She finds that she doesn’t really care, not when he’s looking at her like that.
There’s a flush to his cheeks. Katy slides her hand down so that it rests against his heart.
The thumping she feels against her chest matches her own. She feels especially pleased about this. Shangqi’s quick to place his hand over hers. He’s still looking at her. Still processing. She can see him working through his emotions until he’s settled into a playful smirk.
He leans in.
Katy thinks her heart skips a beat.
He kisses her, right in the center of her forehead.
She pulls on his shirt.
He presses his lips against her forehead again. Pulls away.
This time, when he looks at her, she’s quite literally blown away by the magnitude of emotions that’s on full display, front and center on his face.
She sees it in the way his eyes shine, the way the corners crinkle up. It’s most evident in the way his cheeks are full, smiling so wide, that he’s exorbitantly happy.
“Maybe I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Much later, they’re sitting in his apartment, her legs in his lap as he massages the sole of her feet. She’s wearing his shirt, and there’s soft jazz music playing in the background. There’s a box of leftover pizza on the floor.
She settles into the couch. Digs her feet into his thighs jokingly.
It’s languid.
It’s simple.
It’s peaceful.
She wraps a hand around her cup of tea, watches him watch her over the top of it. He’s shirtless, and maybe later she’ll do something about that, but he’s also got this look of disbelief on his face. It morphs into a sly grin as he slides his warm hand up and down her calf.
He squeezes her ankle. She sits up, moves so that she’s resting on his lap rather than his old couch.
He’s still watching her. Hasn’t even looked away once during their entire evening together.
He bites the inner part of his cheek. There’s some of that darkness that clouds his gaze. He looks a little consternated, like he isn’t so sure.
Katy’s the braver one, so she lays a hand on his heart. Smiles at him.
It seems to work. He melts, holds her tighter.
“D’you ever wondered why I never liked going anywhere near that corner house down by your place?”
In her dreams that night, she sees a small boy. The same boy she’d seen that day, many years ago, who’d cut himself on a broken vase by the not-so-empty house’s second-story windowsill.
He’s up on a stool, has a firm grip on a bowl that he’s pouring cereal into. On the table behind him, there’s a man.
He’s got a bottle of brandy in his right hand. It’s half empty. He’s got a cigarette pinched between his fingers on his other hand. The stub of it almost reaches his fingers, and Katy’s worried it might burn him.
There’s a digital clock by the corner of the kitchen door. It states, 07:13.
The boy finishes making his breakfast. Takes a seat at the table that’s too big for him. He has to squat on the chair in order to reach the tabletop, where he can eat his cereal quietly.
Katy feels her heart lurch at the sight.
It’s too quiet. So very different from her home, where it’s noisy and loud at every mealtime, with each Chen constantly talking over each other.
The boy finishes his meal.
The man takes a deep swig of his brandy. Then he stands, on shaky legs, moves to walk away from the table.
She likens it to seeing a shell.
Empty.
Void.
There’s absolutely nothing in him.
The boy stares after the man.
He’s got a look that’s too forlorn for a child his age. It screams of a deep-rooted pain that shouldn’t be felt by a child that young. He stares at the man with a longing expression, tiny little brows furrowed in a manner that’s familiar to Katy.
She wants to wrap her arms around him. Wants to pat his head the same way she does to Didi whenever he feels upset. Wants to draw him in close and whisper that in a few months, things will turn out perhaps not okay, but better.
She wants to tell him that he’ll be in a better place soon, that his aunt will come and fetch him and his little sister away from the tragedy of a broken family.
She wants to pull him away from the neglect of a grieving father. Wants to shield him from the agony of losing both his parents – one, from sickness, and the other, from himself.
It’s a devastating cycle of emotions that she runs through. It gets so violent that she jolts awake.
Shangqi’s still got his arms around her. He hasn’t let her go since they’d fallen asleep.
She twists in his arms, feeling an urgent need to look at him and make sure he’s okay.
She only lets out the breath she’s holding when she sees his face. He looks contented.
In his sleep, he’s far away from the issues of his past. From the terrible memories he has of watching his mother get torn apart by cancer. Of seeing his father succumb to a deep addiction as a result, then ultimately neglecting his young children when he loses his wife.
Katy’s heart is in pieces, thinking about the look he had as he shared his story, eyes tearing up and hands shaking.
She understands why he’s never spoken up about his past, and she’s glad she hadn’t pried. Older now, and far more capable of internalizing someone else’s grief, Katy can only rest her head against his chest.
She listens to the firm thumping of his heart.
Silently, she promises Shangqi to be more careful.
Katy’s clumsy. Always has been. She’s accident-prone and tends to get into trouble before it finds her. She doesn’t really think too much about actions, and what they mean, and whether they come with consequences – when it happens, it happens, and Katy does a really good job at accepting whatever it is.
This time, she needs to be very careful.
Because this is her best friend.
The man she loves so, so, dearly.
She needs to be very careful, because he’s given her something very precious. Something he’s entrusted her with.
So, she’ll wrap it up with layers of care and trust, places her faith in his blinding loyalty towards her. Ensures that it’s locked up, tight, bounded by the years of devotion that spans their entire lives spent with each other.
His heart is a precious.
And it’s her responsibility now.
At Thirty: An Experience with Compromise
It still feels foreign, this ring on her finger.
It’s been a year since they’d exchanged vows in front of their family and friends. Photos of the ceremony are sprinkled all over their shared apartment, a new one that they moved into three years ago, after the lease on Shangqi’s studio loft ended.
It’s a simple golden band, thin, that winds around her left ring finger. It shouldn’t feel all that heavy, but there’s a weight to it that makes her feel very much aware that it’s there.
She hears their front door open.
It doesn’t take long for her to feel his arms wind around her waist, hugging her tightly to him. He buries his head in the crook of her neck.
She’s stirring the leftover soup they had the night before when she feels his lips murmur against her skin. It raises goosebumps on her arms, and she tries to stamp down the feeling of want because she’s tired and she knows he is, too.
They both can’t stay up late – she’s got that performance report she’s got to do up by tonight, and he’s got a meeting early in the morning.
She turns, presses a kiss to the side of his ear since it’s the closest thing to her. “What was that?”
He rubs his five-o-clock shadow against her skin. She giggles at the feeling, unable to shift away when he’s got his arms locked around her like this.
Their soup gets done. She turns off the stove, twists so that she can wrap her arms around his neck better, inhales the lingering scent of his deliciously masculine cologne.
He leans down, presses a sweet kiss once, twice, then thrice against her lips.
“I got the promotion.”
“Congratulations!” She shouts, jumping, celebrating. “Congrats, congrats, congrats, congrats! I’m so proud of you!”
He smiles back at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Why aren’t you happy?” She asks immediately. “You’ve been gunning for that spot for so long, and now you’ve finally got it!”
He closes his eyes. Pulls her tighter against him. Rests his forehead against hers.
She waits.
Then, “The new position’s in New York, K.”
Oh. “So?”
He jerks his head back. Katy’s stares up at him. He looks down, brows drawing together as he frowns. “New York’s not exactly a muni away from here, Laopo-ah.”
“No, I get that.” she nods. “The job’s what you always wanted, right? It’s what you were aiming for when you first started in Deloitte.”
“Yeah but I didn’t think they’d offer to relocate me to their New York office. I was hoping to remain local.”
“They’re offering to pay you higher, the job scope’s better, and you’ll finally be able to escape the living hell of data and let the interns deal with that instead.” She reasons out. He still doesn’t look convinced. “Besides, the bigger paycheck will help out your dad’s therapy and rehab bills.”
The way he’s got his lips pursed tells her that he’d already had that in mind.
When they’d gotten married, Katy had first broached the subject of inviting his dad. She’d done it warily, knowing Shangqi tended to pretend his past never existed beyond his aunt and little sister.
She hadn’t even known he had living members of his family until he’d painstakingly shared his younger self with her. Hadn’t known that he’d burned down the bridges of his relationship with his father when his aunt took him and his sister from his home.
That was their first real and serious fight. Something that resulted in tears (on Katy’s end) and frustrated pacing (on Shangqi’s end). As always, Shangqi refused to leave her side even as the conversation got tenser by the minute until it exploded in their faces and ended with a strained silence.
“Your aunt said he’s been in rehab, getting treated,” she’d said to him. “Don’t you think he should be afforded a second chance to at least see his son grown up?”
“That man deserves nothing from me. Or from Xialing. He lost that right when he abandoned me and my sister when Ma died. Stop trying to reason him out, Katy, the man’s a fucking monster.”
“But he wasn’t always, right? Some of your happiest memories when you were younger were with him, when he was still okay. He lost his wife, Shangqi. If that was me, and I were to lose you, you and I both know I’d do everything I can to follow suit –”
“Jesus, Katy, don’t talk about that kind of shit –”
“–and I’d understand how and why he’s suffering now. He doesn’t have anyone to turn to.” She pauses. Gets closer to him, presses a hand to his chest. Reaches up so she can wipe the tears away from his tired, handsome face. “Please just think about it. You don’t have to decide now. Just think about what you’d do in his position, the reasons and causes of why he got to that point. He must’ve loved your Ma so much. So, so, much.”
She’s jarred out of her memories when her husband shakes his head. “I don’t want to take a job that’s far from here, far from you. Not now. Not when–”
He looks down at her flat stomach. Places a hand over it.
She rests her hand over his soothingly.
“This can wait, Laogong. We can wait.”
He sighs and leans down to press his forehead against hers again. “But I don’t want to wait.”
Five years together, and Katy thinks she still gets surprised by how incredibly charming Shangqi can be. She chuckles, presses a kiss to his nose. It’s intimate, small. She imagines that when their little one comes – however long that may be, all things considered now – they might not have time to share such small moments like these between them.
She finds that she actually looks forward to it.
“Well, it’s not like the baby making process was that big of an ordeal. If anything,” she smirks at him, leers a little bit, “it’s been a lot of fun.”
It works.
He lets out a chortle, deep in his throat, one that he only does when he’s genuinely amused.
At Fifty-Five: An Experience with Letting Go
Katy honestly didn’t think she’d be this emotional.
“My baby girl,” she wails, clutching on to her daughter who only laughs and holds onto her tighter. She’s sobbing into her graduation robe, and Shangqi’s holding on to her diploma like it’s a badge of honor.
He’s laughing at her, the jerk.
See if she rubs his sore knee later.
“Ma, you’re gonna need to calm down,” their daughter chuckles. She’s exuding every bit of Shangqi’s calm, and Katy’s so grateful that her baby girl has never once displayed any of Katy’s own questionable personality traits.
Much less can be said about her son though.
“Jiejie,” he wails, loud and unapologetic. Every bit the same as Katy. The two of them make quite a sight, holding on to the young woman, who laughs and lets them hold on to her. Katy sees Shangqi exchange a patient smile with her daughter, something that they often share when it comes to the antics of mother and son.
“You can’t blame me. My baby’s all grown up and graduated. Soon you’re gonna be walking down the aisle and then you’re gonna have a baby and then I’ll be too old to be able to run after your baby and then–”
“Mama, you’re not making it any better.” Baobao cries.
She feels Shangqi wrap his arms around all of them. Even at his age, he still towers over them, still takes up the most space, though their teenage son seems to be following in hot pursuit.
Katy thinks about the times that she catches middle-aged women – and, oh God, she’s a middle-aged woman now – looking wistfully at him because he certainly looks better than what his age suggests. She’s had to pull out the I’m-His-Wife glare out of its decrepit, proverbial bag several times since then.
“Your Ma’s just proud of your Jieije. We both are.” Katy nods vehemently in agreement with Shangqi. “Graduating from college is a huge deal. Graduating magna-cum-laude is an even bigger deal.”
“Yeah, it’s literally like you took all the brains in our family,” her son sniffles. Pulls away to glare mockingly at his parents. “I’m still waiting for a refund, by the way.”
Katy slaps him upside the head. Shangqi and their daughter laugh. “You’re just a late bloomer.”
He deadpans her. It reminds her so much of his father that she gets all emotional again.
“Okay, I’ve been up since five this morning and now I’m starving. Let’s go grab some dinner at Waipo’s before I reach my hangry ceiling.” Her little Baobei urges mother and son to get going.
She keeps one arm around her daughter.
Shangqi reaches to hold onto her hand when she hears Baobao’s phone go off behind them.
When she turns, he grins at her toothily, an exact replica of his mother’s own wide smile. “What? Had to take one for the socials.”
He jogs forward so that he gets to their car earlier and opens the door for his mother and sister. Katy doesn’t know why this triggers another bout of tears; she thinks it’s because it reminds her so much of Shangqi and his ingrained consideration for everyone and anyone around him.
It’s so nice to see that exemplified in her young son, who’s only just begun to grow into a man.
She finds herself getting really emotional at the thought. It’s as if she’s seeing her kids in this strange, new light.
She remembers what it’s like to have graduated university. Katy wasn’t that good of a student, only did what she could when she could do it. She never aspired to be the best, and through the years, as she and Shangqi took the decision to grow their family, she found herself reiterating to her kids to only do what felt right to them.
She hadn’t wanted them to face the kind of pressure her Ba and Ma used to give her back when she was younger. Their severe scrutiny over her choice of job allowed her the opportunity to seek greater financial stability for them all, but it hadn’t come with personal sacrifice.
It’d been a rocky road navigating the pressures of being an adult. Katy’s still struggling with it, even as she barrels into her sixties.
Now that she’s had her kids, had done her best to mold them into personable, kind individuals, she finds that no amount of materialistic gains could ever surpass the feeling of seeing her kids put into practice the very same virtues she’d hoped to instill in them.
She’s still pondering over this as they get to her mom’s place.
Katy notices a man rummaging through the dumpster by the side of their old convenience store that Ruihua now manages. He’s got tattered clothes on, a beanie on his head. He’s missing one shoe.
She would’ve asked him if he needed anything, but because her Ma’s waiting for her, they hurry up the stairs – now retrofitted with a wheelchair-accessible ramp for her mom – and enters the corridor to her old home.
They toe their shoes off in the hallway, and Katy and Shangqi automatically bends to arrange them neatly when Baobao stops them. “I got it, Ba, Ma.”
Really, she thinks, watching his back as they enter her childhood home, how did they grow up so fast?
The kids – can they really still call them that – move to sit at their designated corner. Shangqi takes his usual place by her side. He’s a lot slower at sitting down now, and Katy knows his knee bothers him more than he’s willing to admit.
She waits till he’s seated, then reaches over to rub at his bad joint. He glances over at her and gives her a thankful smile.
“Katy,” her Ma croaks out, lifting a withered hand. “Have you greeted your Baba and Waipo?”
She gestures to the altar, where her grandmother and father’s photos are reverently placed. The picture’s a little faded and dusty now; Katy thinks she’ll need to drop by again some time next week to help clean it out. “Yes, Ma.”
All four of Katy’s small family had taken out the spare joss sticks earlier from their place in the cupboard below the altar. Baobei had helped to light them up. They’d gathered close together, shoulder to shoulder, and they clasped the joss sticks between their palms as they prayed.
Shangqi’s warmth on her side was comforting, even after all these years, and especially when she feels the curls of old heartache – experienced through loss – ebb from the pits of her gut.
She prayed that wherever her Waipo and Baba was, they were happy, and were watching over her family with pride.
Her husband places some deep fried pork that he’d cut up on her plate, knowing that Katy’s teeth aren’t as strong now, and she tends to avoid hard meat since it hurts her gums.
And because she’s still stubborn, Katy still eats the meat anyway. But only if they’re in smaller bites.
Shangqi gives her a knowing smile when she bites into a morsel. He’s still every bit as charming as he was when they were fifteen.
She says her thanks by giving him a portion of her Ma’s scallion noodles that he adores so much.
Later, when she’s helping to pack up the leftovers, she’ll think about how glad she is, and so unbelievably lucky, that they’re afforded a life together like this. Her kids decide to stay over, wanting to spend more time with their grandmother, and Katy’s taken aback by how strongly she feels about having such great children.
Shangqi holds her hand as they hug their goodbyes.
He’s opening their car door for her when she sees the man again, sitting on the ground beside the dumpster. He’s empty-handed.
She does it before she even knows she’s doing it.
Katy grabs her bag of leftovers. She pulls on her husband’s arm before he can move towards the driver’s side of the car. “Laogong, wait.”
He looks at her, then looks at where she’s pointing.
Shangqi breaks out into a big smile. It warms her all over, despite the breezy evening weather.
“You really do amaze me,” he huffs, eyes bright. There are wrinkles on his forehead now, and his cheeks sag a bit. He chooses to keep his facial hair on, only ever grooming it nowadays, and his got extensive smile lines.
He still manages to make her heart flutter when he smiles like that, though.
He holds his hand out, a gesture that she takes in kind, curls her fingers around his and tilts her head up. He presses a kiss to her forehead.
Together, they walk towards the man.
She hopes that when she’s all gray and old like her Ma, she never forgets how it feels to be on the receiving end of someone else’s gratitude. The look and smile that the man gives her, and her husband, are worth the dishes she’ll have to clean when she has to cook dinner for tomorrow.
After all, there’s only so much good in this world. Katy’s always tried to be a part of it, no matter how small of a difference she might make.
Shangqi holds her hand across the console as they make their way back.
At Eighty: An Experience with Joy
There’s a house by the corner of the street, nearby the Chen household.
It used to be occupied by Xu Wenwu and Xu Ying Li.
It happens very quickly, they say. No one even saw it coming.
Ying Li dies, and for Wenwu, it’s like the sun vanished from his universe.
The people on the street gossip about the man.
They gossip, and gossip, but ignores him when he heads over to the Chen’s convenience store to buy bottles of liquor and cigarettes, uses up all his and his wife’s savings, so he has an escape from the hell he’s living in.
There’s a house by the corner of the street now, nearby the Chen household.
It’s occupied by Xu Shangqi and Xu Ruiwen.
They’ve moved in when they retired two decades ago.
Shangqi and Ruiwen spend their time taking care of their grandkids now.
It’s hilarious, sometimes, because Ruiwen usually ends up getting into the same messes her grandchildren do. Her long-suffering husband always has this kind, patient smile that he wears, even as he has to lean heavily on his cane to help dust off whatever’s gotten on his beloved wife.
The house is brighter now. Like sunshine in a physical form.
The people gossip that it’s because the Xu children renovated it so that its lighter, airier, more practical for the old man and his wife. They don’t know it’s because Ruiwen spends a great deal of time and care on rebuilding the house back to its original form – it’s a commemoration to its original masters.
The people gossip, but they like staring at the old couple’s house. It’s a place that exudes warmth and gentleness.
Kindness.
And in front of the house, on top of pots decorated by the grandchildren in mismatched colors, daffodils bloom beautifully.