Chapter 45
Zoe jumped out of Th ? o’s path as she stomped out of the rehearsal room. Derek’s shoulders sagged. His face was pale and contorted, as if he might
cry. The conversation she’d promised Katie Mai and Danny would have to wait.
“I came to see if you were ready to go back to my place. What happened?” She spoke quietly and touched his hand.
Derek pulled her into his arms and hugged her. Hard. His body was hot and his heart was racing. She’d never seen him so upset.
But Th ? o had very strong opinions about everything, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked.
“Talk to me,” she whispered into his shoulder.
Zoe breathed him in as they held each other in the empty room. His fragility tugged at her heart. It hit her. She loved him.
She loved Derek.
As if sensing her realization, he squeezed her tighter for a few seconds before releasing her.
“Today has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,” he mumbled and frowned.
“My poor Alexander,” she cooed, referring to the musical he’d adapted based off the children’s picture book for a college
final. “Talk to me. Pretend we’re on the roof of our college apartment.”
They’d rented a crappy apartment that was a fifteen-minute walk from their classes. It was all they could afford then but it was their refuge from class.
“We solved a lot of problems on that rooftop,” said Derek.
Zoe nodded and smiled at the memories of their late-night conversations. He pushed two black wooden cubes together and laid
on top of them. She dragged two more next to him and did the same. In acting class, she loved how a silent agreement between
actors and the audience turned these humble wooden blocks into beds, rocks, or, tonight, a rooftop.
“The stars are pretty tonight.” Zoe waved at the ceiling. “Is that the big dipper?”
“That was the only constellation we could pick out.” He laughed.
“Hey, I majored in theater, not astronomy.” She was glad to see color returning to his cheeks.
“Th ? o is mad because I made the call to change the songs to all English lyrics, specifically the duet.” He looked at the “stars”
as he spoke.
“That song brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me of my grandfather’s favorite c ? i l ?? ng but with a more modern sound.”
“Th ? o would love to hear that. She gets all the credit for that song.”
“The lyrics are beautiful and the music evocative. Her rhymes were super clever, too.”
“That’s what all the Viet speaking actors said, too. But I don’t know my mother tongue, Z.” He ran his fingers through his
hair and massaged his head.
She couldn’t believe it. All these years and it still bothered him.
“I can translate it for you,” she offered.
“Th ? o did that already, but it’s not the same.”
“Oh.”
“I—” He swallowed hard. “I can’t direct that scene the way it deserves because I can’t understand it properly. Besides, it’ll alienate the non-Viet audiences.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. What was he hiding from her?
“Yeah, that stumble through was rough but you’re good at what you do. You could always provide supertitles like they do at
the opera,” she suggested.
“That’s too distracting. The musical would be more viable if we change all the songs to English.” He kept his eyes on the
stars instead of looking at her.
“You’re scaring me, Derek. You sound like Gregzilla.” She hoped the inside joke would bring some levity.
“Greg wants the show to have universal appeal.”
“Sisterhood and a love story with magical transformations isn’t considered appealing?”
“Maybe not.” Derek shrugged.
Zoe huffed. What had happened to the confident man she’d been working with—sleeping with—the past few weeks?
“Wow. I didn’t believe them, but Danny and Katie Mai were right.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, finally sitting up.
“They came to me today because they were concerned that you were no longer following your vision for The Brocaded Slipper . And that you kept changing things to make Greg happy.”
“It’s more complicated than that. I have to think big picture. First, we need people in DC to love the show so we can bring
it to New York.”
“How can you compromise who you are, Derek? You’re removing all the Vietna—all of us from the show.”
“The story is still Vietnamese. Removing the language won’t change that.” Hurt filled his eyes. “I’m still Vietnamese, aren’t
I?”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re less Viet because you don’t speak it.” Zoe took a deep breath. “Of course you are.”
“Z, once we get the go ahead for Broadway, we can rework things. I can bring the original Vietnamese lyrics back. We just have to get there first instead of being DOA.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Zoe asked.
“Tickets aren’t selling the way they should. If people won’t pay to see the show, how will they even learn about our stories?”
“Derek, people already see us. As a community we’re more visible than ever—but not in the ways we want. We’re still sidekicks
in movies and bánh mì is so trendy than random food content creators are creating their own versions.”
Zoe was telling him what he already knew. Or maybe he’d forgotten it because he was so focused on the show’s commercial success.
“This musical will be another way to show others that we’re more than all those things,” he reassured her.
“You know what I don’t see? Our people telling our stories instead of some French guys writing a tragic white savior musical
about our parents’ civil war. I want us to be seen. Not the way other folks want to see us but as who we truly are.”
“Does that even matter if people don’t come to the show?” he asked flatly.
“Derek, if we don’t take control of our own narrative, then who will?”
“Zoe, we won’t have a narrative if this show flops. I have to do what it takes to get this show to a wider audience. And if
that’s changing the songs to English, then so be it.”
“You’re sacrificing what makes this show ours in order to make one white guy happy,” she pointed out.
“It’s a compromise.”
“Is it really okay to compromise our Asianness in order to make white people more comfortable around us? Don’t you remember
what they spray-painted at Eden Center?”
Zoe didn’t care how loud her voice had become. Her body shook at the memory of those hateful words in what was supposed to be her safe place.
“I’ll do what it takes to survive so we have a seat at the table,” he protested.
“There’s no room for us at their table,” shouted Zoe. “I knew that in college when I refused to dress people in yellow face
for Professor Richards’s gala.”
“Not all of us have the financial support of our parents to make our own table,” Derek blurted.
Stunned, Zoe’s jaw dropped open. Her heart twisted. How could the man she loved say that to her?
“That was low. I paid them back every cent plus interest.” Her voice shook with anger.
Derek hung his head.
“When you pitched this show to me, it was our vision. Our retelling. That’s why I am investing my own savings in order to
get the costumes made in time for Greg’s accelerated timeline. I closed my shop and I’m paying my staff to help sew them.”
“I never asked you to do that.”
“But I did it because I believed in this musical. I believed in you.” Her voice broke.
“I’m sorry I’ve let you down.” He dropped onto the block as if he’d given up.
“That’s it? You’re actually going to take out all the Vietnamese from the musical?”
“Only the songs,” he muttered.
“I can’t believe this is happening again.” Zoe walked over to where she’d dropped her bags. The large rehearsal room had shrunk
around her. She needed some air.
“Come on, Zoe. This is nothing like what happened in college. People depend on me to make sure this show does well both artistically and financially.”
Zoe scoffed. She’d given up her dream in college instead of going against her values. And here he was, just doing what made
Greg happy.
“If I push back too hard, Greg could take it all away. Or he’ll never have me back. Then how would I continue to tell our
stories?”
“You’re smart and resourceful. You’ll find a way.” How many times would she need to say it, so he’d believe in himself as
much as she did? Maybe it was too late.
“So you expect me to give Greg an ultimatum and possibly sabotage the entire production? To sabotage Katie Mai and Danny Kim,
and all the other actors’ job security, because I think the art is more important?”
“Wouldn’t you rather put on a production you’re proud of instead of one you’ve whitewashed?”
“I’d rather have a production happen than not at all. If I push back, he’ll just find someone else to take over my job.”
“You know, in college you didn’t join our protests against Professor Richards because you could have lost your scholarship.
But here’s your chance to really stand up for something important. To stand up for yourself and our—” Zoe blinked away tears.
“Not everything in life is cut and dry. Please try to understand,” Derek pleaded.
He took a step toward her but she shook her head and backed away. If he touched her right now, she didn’t know if she’d slap
him or try to kiss some sense into him.
“I can’t be with someone who can’t stand up for our community. Who can’t stand up for me.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and took a deep breath. Even though she loved him, this was one thing she refused to compromise on. What did she have if she didn’t stick to her values?
“After the show opens, I don’t want to see you ever again,” she said flatly. Zoe walked out with her head held high but the
tears fell anyway.