Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Marcus,
I asked Magic 8 if your very drafty, scandalous idea for Sunday afternoons is a good idea…
Want to know what it said?
Guess you’ll find out on Sunday.
Mei
I sit on the soccer field, surrounded by my new teammates, lacing my cleats and working to keep my thoughts on soccer plays instead of letting them run back toward the very sparse apartment with Mei inside it. Alone.
Our three days on San Juan Island may as well have been on another planet; we’d forgotten about Nick or Dad or Mei’s family and all things past or future. It was just us, cruising around the island on our motorcycle, Mei’s arms wrapped around me from behind. And then it was just us in a beach house where no one would’ve thought to look for us. If they’d tried, they would have seen nothing but silhouettes through walls of windows and shadows in tangled sheets.
My body buzzes with memories, then tenses, remembering we’re not there—we’re here, a whole lot more visible than our backyard cottage in Seattle or a beach house on a cliff surrounded by trees and a security gate. We’re a little too close to San Francisco now. As much as I love Stanford and the team, I don’t love that our old life and fears are just down the coast. Still not sure coming here was the greatest idea.
The whistle blows, and I finish lacing my cleats, setting aside thoughts and memories. I jump to my feet and run with my team toward the group of waiting coaches.
For hours, I run faster and kick harder to prove I’m worth a second shot. The whistle blows, and I rocket down the field for a huddle. I’m halfway there when a bright red streak outside the stadium catches my attention. A car shoots through the parking lot and veers to the curb by the gate, and I jolt to a stop. Aunt Audrey.
The soccer field fades, and my heart tries to beat its way out of my chest when Dad steps out of the car in a V-neck and jeans, his clenched jaw visible from where I stand a few yards away.
My brain throws swear words around, and my legs burn to run in the opposite direction. Fists clenched, I swallow hard, forcing down the hot, frantic heartbeat thumping up my throat.
Dad strides toward the fence, Audrey running after him in a dress and red Converse. The negotiator. She does it every day at work, so why not now, to keep her brother from killing his son? The look on his face is the bullet that could end it all.
There’s nothing for me to blend into or hide behind, so I drag in a deep breath and haul myself slowly toward them. Like I’ve been caught being out past curfew instead of running away from potential criminal charges and Dad’s orders. Getting married—to the girl Dad told me not to even date. No way he could possibly know that, but his fury march suggests otherwise.
My mind digs up words that might talk Dad down from launching his verbal grenade.
Oh! Hey, Dad. How’s it going? It’s been a while. Hope you didn’t mind that I took off. Just needed some time. Distance. You get it, right? Oh, and by the way, I’m married. Yeah…last minute thing. Probably should’ve told you—invited you—but, you know how those things go…
Dad’s eyes slam into mine and practically push me backwards, demanding answers. Not like Mei’s eyes that are a soft, gentle touch, but like…anger and accusation and complete and total disappointment curled into a visual fist.
“Son, what are you doing?” He’s chomping gum like he’s punishing it. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear the last time we talked, but I quickly discovered I was dead wrong.” His anger tumbles out in the thick Southern accent that lays dormant until he’s mad. He fumbles with the gate latch, so amped up his hands shake. “You gonna tell me what’s going on or just expect me to figure it out like I had to figure out where you were the last month?”
I jerk into motion, hurrying toward him, eager to take this explosive scene far away from my coaches and team. I slip around the corner of a neighboring building, and Dad trails me along the fence, right on my heels.
“You gonna keep running from things? That your new thing?”
I whirl around, my body rigid. “I can explain.” But my mind goes static, my heart trying to pump more oxygen to my head and give me every chance to produce words that can actually explain any of this.
“You lied to my face and then you took off, knowing there were criminal charges on the line. With Mei Li Zhang, the one girl I told you to stay away from.” He spits her name out like it’s a bug that’s flown into his mouth. His voice shakes, and I dig my toes into my cleats, bracing against the anger and hurt behind it, like walking against wind. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you? That I couldn’t figure out where you were since I find missing people for a living?” His jaw pulses, and he steps closer to me. But Audrey squeezes between us, facing Dad, and grabs his upper arm. “Ray, stop before you say something you’ll regret.” Her eyes are throwing darts at him. “Marcus is not the only male standing here who lied, remember that. Right? And maybe if you hadn’t been so freakish about keeping him from girls, he would’ve just told you he was dating someone rather than sneaking around and running away with her. If you can’t handle this, I’ll take my car and leave you here to find a ride home. And I’m pretty sure Marcus won’t offer you a ride on his motorcycle.”
I stare at the cement, wishing Audrey didn’t bring up the motorcycle.
Dad explodes, cursing at me. “If you’re man enough to go out on your own, be man enough to look at me and the mess you’ve made of everything!”
My eyes skid through the heavy, tense air and slam into his. “How have I messed up anything for you? What have I ever done that put you out? I’ve never stopped you from doing anything you want and lying to my face about it. You’re just mad because this is the first time I’ve done something I wanna do, and you had nothing to do with it. This isn’t really about me at all—it’s about you, like everything else. Me, making you look good and believing when you said that my mom was the bad guy, never you.” Words that have been sloshing near the surface erupt. “And I never asked questions—never asked to meet her or find out why she really left because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Instead, I did everything just right so you wouldn’t leave too. So I didn’t disappoint you like I somehow disappointed her. Did everything right so you were happy, no matter what I wanted.”
Audrey’s eyes widen, flicking between me and Dad. She’s probably just as disoriented in the explosion as I am.
I swear at the ground, squeezing my eyes shut. The words that just tore out of me leave raw, bleeding spots inside. I’m crumbling under his fury and the hurt and disappointment in his eyes. I wanna give him an explanation—give him some relief. But then I’m mad at myself for caring because he didn’t bother telling me about Kenna and his future plans that didn’t include me, so why should I include him in mine?
I picture Mei’s face during our shower earlier this morning, all lit up and laughing over something I said. I have to protect her. Gotta keep my mouth shut and be okay that Dad and I have our own lives that don’t include each other. I have the life I want. He can have whatever he wants.
“I didn’t sacrifice my life so you could wreck yours!” Dad’s voice is quiet now, raspy, like my heated outburst burned his throat.
“Go ahead!” I yell, coming toe to toe with him. “Tell me how stupid and irresponsible I am, but at least I know how to keep a girl.”
He stares at me, his jaw pulsing as he looks across the field, back at me. “You think it’s my fault your mom walked away from us? Like I didn’t know what I was doing or couldn’t handle it as well as you obviously can?” He grabs something out of his back pocket and thrusts it at me. An envelope. “Let’s see how you handle this since you’ve got it all figured out.” When I don’t reach for it, he drops the envelope and steps back. I keep my eyes on him for a few more seconds, then bend, picking up the envelope. It’s addressed to me. The Clubhouse address. From Olivia Sultana, 3437 North Bayview Circle, Los Angeles, CA. Olivia. My mom.
My hands are sweaty, wrinkling the envelope clutched in them. I don’t wanna open this. She’s never talked to me. She’s never sent a birthday card or Christmas present or acknowledged my existence. Unless Dad’s kept it all from me. My breathing echoes in my ears, all my senses turning and running to hide from whatever’s inside the envelope. What if my mom wanted to meet me, but Dad wouldn’t let her? What if it’s a letter explaining why she left?
“She showed up at the apartment. Was planning on coming to your graduation. But then, you know…you weren’t there. So, she left that for you.”
My fists clench and my feet flex, my legs ready to hurl me at him, but his eyes glint like they always did when he was onto a lead in a case. “But you can’t run from this, Marcus. Mei Li will be deported, and you can’t stop that from happening. I’d love to protect you from all of this, but I warned you, you took off, and now I have to make a phone call to let immigration know where to find her. It’s my job.” He shakes his head at the ground. “Don’t want to do it, but here we are, so…I’ll give you until Monday to figure out what you’re going to do.”
The ground drops from under me, a jolt rocking me on my heels. His words fly past me, a few sticking in my brain like arrows. But no—he’s a liar. He wants me to give up my life…for what?
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I hurl at him. “You can’t stand that I’m happy, so you find a way to sabotage it? It wasn’t enough you ripped my mom from my life, you wanna rip Mei out of it too?”
“It’s not me who will take her from you, Marcus. It’s the law. There are things outside our control, and you chose one of them.”
“And what does the law say about us being married?”
He tenses. “What?”
“We got married. Couple weeks ago. So, no one’s taking her anywhere.”
Audrey sucks in a breath, and Dad stares at me. “They can, and they will. Marriage can’t stop that, and you’re not the first one to try. A marriage certificate doesn’t suddenly make Mei Li a citizen. This isn’t your decision to make. I told you to stay away from her, and I meant it. Now I guess you’ll have to figure out how to be with her from a different continent.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
Dad’s jaw tightens. “And what would you do if you found out Nick had been released and was looking for her?”
“I’d say someone hadn’t done their job in San Francisco, so I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. Even if that means you never see me again.” I glare at him, my thoughts whirling so fast they kick up dust I can’t see through.
“Hmm. Okay, well…you’ve got it all figured out. Good for you.” Dad nods to the ground, then his eyes land back on mine, hard, not backing down. “Don’t ruin your life more than you already have.” His voice is defeated, an octave lower and worn out. “I love you, son, but you’ve got until Monday. That’s the best I can do.”
Emotions flood me and I’m choking, gasping, flailing. I want to slam my fist into his face for throwing those words around like they’re a weather report. I want him to stop talking and telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. I picture hitting him, how it would feel to put all my resentment into it, but I whirl away, sprinting around the corner to the field.
“Marcus!” Audrey yells, but I run faster.
Grabbing my bag from the bench, I take off out of the stadium, across the street, and through campus toward Mei. I need her right now. He’s lying, just like he always has so he can get me to do what he wants.
I need Mei. Need to get away from Dad and figure out what I’m feeling and what I’m supposed to do with any of this. I just…
I swear, gulping in air, pumping my legs harder, and swiping at tears. I swear again because I don’t wanna cry. Don’t wanna let the fear or hurt take over. I can’t lose Mei. I won’t, law or not.
I ignore traffic signals, cross streets between cars, and jump medians to put distance between me and the showdown at the soccer field. Between me and the look in Dad’s eyes.
After three blocks, I hit a red light and bend over to catch my breath, hands on my knees, nausea rising until I can’t shove it back down and puke in a bush near a lamppost. When the light turns green, I take off again, sprinting the last two blocks, across the parking lot, and up the four flights of stairs. I pound on our locked door, afraid if I stop long enough to dig out my key, I’ll fall apart in the hallway. “Mei, it’s me. Open the door,” I call, my voice wobbly, forehead against the faded brown paint. I slap the metal with my palm. “Please open, Mei.”
The deadbolt clicks. When the doorknob turns, I push through the door and slam it behind me, backing against it. I drop my bag and pull Mei into my arms, my body shaking. Tears burn the edges of my eyes, attempting to wash away the look on Dad’s face. But I can’t shut it out, so I just hold Mei, the envelope from my mom still crumpled in my hand.
Mei leans back, searching my face. “Marcus,” she asks, frowning. “What happened?”
“My dad knows where we are.”
She stiffens. “What?”
I tell her what happened. I tell her how I ran. I tell her that I don’t care even though it’s a lie, but the one thing I refuse to let out of me is what Dad told me to do. That, I’ll never tell her; she can never know. I’ll never step back in San Francisco. We’ll hide if we have to. Go somewhere far away if it comes to that. But I won’t tell her.
My head pounds, and I drop to the edge of the bed, head in my hands. I stare at my cleats, my eyes tracing the laces so they don’t see what’s replaying in my mind.
I blink through the blurriness, but a tear drops between my feet, and Mei takes my face in her hands and lifts it up. “What should we do?” she asks.
“Nothing. This. What we’ve been doing. I’m not afraid of him or what he’ll do.” Except I am.
Her hand sweeps hair off my forehead and guides my head onto her lap. She runs her fingers through my sweaty hair, and I curl against her, not saying a word. She doesn’t ask me to, and sometime in the shadowy minutes or hours that pass in silence, her hands close the gaping hole inside me.
My eyes fly open to pitch black. My face is tight, eyes swollen, my head fuzzy and heavy. Mei’s curled up next to me, sound asleep. The message I wrote on her stomach last night in Sharpie peeks from under her shirt. I watch her sleep in peace without a clue what Dad threatened. I’ll never tell her.
I shift carefully so I won’t wake her up and glance at my watch. 3:27 AM. The fridge kicks on and hums, a TV in the next apartment drones, and my heart beats in my ears as I replay the moment with Dad. I examine every word, formulate what I should’ve said. What I shouldn’t have. Then the envelope dropping to the cement lights up my mind, and I scan the darkness for it, running my hand over the bed. It lays on the desk, crumpled and abandoned. Mei must have pried it out of my hand. I wonder if she read it. I hope she did. She’ll think that’s why I was coming apart.
I slip off the bed, reaching for the wall when I wobble from getting up too fast. My feet are cold from being in sweaty socks and sore from running five blocks in cleats. Mei must have taken them off me last night.
The white envelope glares in the dark, guiding me toward it. I snatch it from the desk, ease it open, and pull out a card. I tilt it toward the night light in the kitchen: Congratulations, Graduate!
So just any graduate. Not her son, not a friend, just a graduate.
Inside, she’s written a note. Her handwriting is straight, tidy. But there’s not much of it.
Dear Marcus. This is a big day I didn’t want to miss, even though I’ve missed a lot of other days. Congratulations. I’d love to talk sometime and hear about your plans. Don’t spend this gift card all in one place.
Cheers, Olivia
I stare at the card, the words fading into the dark. I’ve never heard my mom’s voice. Never seen her handwriting or how she’d approach me. Olivia. Not really my mom. But why did she come to graduation? And she and Dad talked—he has the card to prove it. What was that like, the two of them talking? Did Dad wish his life had turned out differently when he saw her face? Do I wish mine had?
I glance at Mei pulled into a ball on the bed, her hands pressed together under her chin like she’s praying. And maybe she is. Maybe she saw my implosion and is worried about me. The weight of the argument with Dad and the inscription in this card and our new reality settle on my shoulders, so heavy I have to drop into the ratty chair by the window. I stare into the dark room, the clock on the microwave blinking blue spots into this murky place between night and morning. I’m hoping the day never comes. But one thing I know for sure—a promise to myself and the silence and the looming threats—She’s not going back to San Francisco, and I’m not going anywhere without her.