17. Lina
Lina
He abandoned that tiny drag on his wide lips the moment I nodded my head at him. His black brows furrowed into a divot, and his head tilted into his iconic coy and sly manner. He studied me quietly for a second as his friends and family observed us.
“You’re being awfully polite. I can’t say I’m used to this, Lina,” he mused, turning back to his friends and family. He looked at his sister and brother-in-law and changed the topic of the conversation breezily. “So, have you both thought of more baby names?”
“We have, but nothing has stuck,” answered Andy.
“We’re thinking about Hmong names first,” added Julie. “Then, we’ll pick an English name from there.”
“What are all our Hmong names again?” Anthony asked. He went around the table, first starting with Andy and himself. “Andy’s Hmong name is Kou and mine’s Nhia. Shoua, your name is already Hmong. Julie is Pa Yeng. And, Jonathan—”
He interrupted with a sharp hiss. “Don’t.”
Anthony smirked in a broad, playful way. “Aw, c’mon Ab Tub! You have a nice Hmong name!”
“Your Hmong name is literally ‘baby boy’?” I blurted out. “Why am I not surprised?”
Anthony took one look at my face and started hollering. So did Andy, Julie, and Shoua. I couldn’t help but laugh with them as Jonathan cocked a black brow at me.
“What’s your Hmong name, then?” he asked.
I smiled softly. “Hli Nag. My older sister was the one to name me Lina after her elementary school best friend, and my parents went with Hli Nag as my Hmong name.”
Jonathan’s arrogant smirk twisted into a thin line. He blew out an irritated groan. “Fuck, that’s a nice name.”
“Your parents must’ve thought about it thoroughly when they gave you that name. It’s so creative while we all have the most basic Hmong names ever,” said Shoua. “What a pretty name—Hli Nag.”
I used to question if my parents even chose my Hmong name thoughtfully and sincerely. Hli Nag, which literally translates to “moon rain” in our language, wasn’t a traditional or common name by any means.
I asked my mom once why they picked this particular Hmong name for me. Why Hli Nag? And she revealed exactly what I had previously suspected: the name ‘Lina’ sounded similar to those two Hmong words. Hli and Nag. Moon and Rain.
They could’ve named me something else. Something more common. Maybe then I wouldn’t have grown up thinking my parents cared just enough to give me a name that was different. Special.
I couldn’t deny how sad I was to discover they merely picked my name for simplicity’s sake.
Hli Nag and Lina. A play on words. Simple as that.
As a cherry on top, my parents never bothered calling me by my Hmong name anyway.
They prefer to call me by my legal English name, like most Hmong parents these days.
So, no. They weren’t thoughtful or were even trying to be creative when they named me.
“Such a pretty Hmong name, too. Moon Rain,” smiled Julie. “It’s too bad we’re having a boy because I would’ve stolen your name, Lina.”
Andy smiled, watching Julie. “That’s why I wanted a girl. Just imagine how pretty she’d be, taking after you,” he said to her. “Pretty face with a pretty name.”
Julie chuckled, turning to her husband. “We’ll try with the second one. A girl for you and a boy for me.”
The two of them orbited each other silently in their own cosmos before Andy turned to me with his grin. I only met his gaze for a second before averting my eyes as embarrassment dripped down my spine.
It had been over a decade since I last saw him, and I was still mortified by how hard I had crushed on him freshman year.
I dreamed about him every night for an entire school year and cried when he graduated.
If that wasn’t an obsession, I didn’t know what was.
Now I couldn’t even look him in the eyes.
My skin heated with a fire trailing up to the apples of my cheeks.
“Lina, you need to return your keys to your previous leasing manager. Right?” Jonathan asked, glancing at me.
I met his gaze without hesitation. I nodded, awkwardly getting up to head into the kitchen to wash my used utensils. It is a Hmong custom for a guest to help the hosts wash their dishes to show their gratitude and thank them for the meal.
“I should be leaving now. I couldn’t return my old apartment keys earlier since the leasing office didn’t open until eleven,” I mentioned. “Thank you so much for the ph?, Julie. I’ll wash these dishes and be on—”
“Forget it. I’ll wash them for you later,” grumbled Jonathan, standing up as well. “I’ll walk you back to your place.”
“B-but—” I started. He shook his head, and I became quiet.
I glanced at his food as I bade everyone around the table goodbye, thanking the Hughes brothers again for their help.
Jonathan didn’t even finish it, and the bowl was still half full.
The rice noodles were left bloated with soup, hardly touched.
We said nothing to one another as we slipped on the shoes we took off at Andy and Julie’s foyer.
Once the front door closed behind us, Jonathan let out a long and exasperated sigh. He sounded irritated as he let out a quiet grumble.
“You don’t have to walk me back,” I said. “You haven’t even finished your food.”
“I want to.” He shrugged. “You win, by the way. You do have a really nice Hmong name.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to me with an unreadable glint in his eyes. “Lina. Hli Nag. Pretty name—” His voice was soft and rather gentle. His dark-coffee eyes traced the outline of my face for a second before he ripped them away. “—with a pretty face.”
My lips parted, but no words or sound came out of my mouth. My instincts roiled behind my thin veil of calmness, desperately urging me to do better than him because he caught me off guard. Be wittier. Snarkier, even. Win, again.
Jonathan continued. “He makes you blush like that, huh?” I could feel heat rake across my skin again. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was referring to. “You sure you’re not still in love with my brother-in-law?”
I sighed. Why was he asking me this again? “No. I’m not. It’s been over a decade since then.”
“You said you dreamed about him often during high school because of your crush on him.” Jonathan blinked slowly before looking at me in the eyes. “Did you ever dream about me—your rival? Since you were so obsessed with getting first place out of our entire graduating class.”
“No, never. Was I supposed to?”
He shook his head. “The line between love and rivalry is fairly thin, Lina.”
“Are you admitting that you dreamed about me? Or that you were in love with me?”
He just stared at me. Not a single shred of emotion flashed across his eyes or the plane of his face. A mask of control. “I dreamed about you once. Senior year. Hated it.”
I hummed. “No, it sounds like you loved it.”
“Nope. I woke up disgusted. It was quite horrific, actually.”
Smiling, I said, “Good for you. I’m glad I could occupy every second of your existence—when you’re awake and when you’re dreaming.”
Jonathan scoffed, the corners of his lips curling as we came to my new apartment’s doorstep. “It almost sounds like that’s how obsessed you want me to be about you. Or, maybe, that’s how obsessed you are with me, too.”
My smile twisted into a Cheshire grin as I flashed my teeth. “Oh? Are you admitting you’re obsessed with me, Jonathan Lo?”
“The same way you admit to me winning,” he grinned.
“You only win when I let you win.”
He hummed, nodding his head slowly. “And I’m only obsessed when you claim I am. Same difference.” He glanced at the watch he wore and started to leave me by my front door. “Have fun dreaming about me.”
“Have fun strategizing how to win,” I called out to him as he walked away.
He didn’t turn back to glare at me, but I could already hear the way his lips quirked into his snarky, cocky smirk. We both knew I was being polite with him in front of the people he loved. When we were alone and in each other’s faces, trying to cut the other down with pettiness, I was the victor.
Most of the time.