Twenty-nine
Liem
So, I told Bri I love her. Should I jump off a bridge or . . . ?
Do I love her? Obviously. Did I mean to tell her? Hell no.
While she took it well, translating my slip into something a normal person would think, that’s not completely true. I love Bri the way she loves all her friends, but I also love Bri. Maybe I’m not in love with her, even if my body has never yearned like this for anyone else.
It’s not just because we had sex—lots of mind-blowing sex. I’m not confusing it the way I confused it with Natalie, believing she loves me because she sleeps with me. My bond with Bri is different in every way.
I do love her. But not like that.
Last night, I dreamt I got to give her an orgasm again, felt her body squeezing around me and her fingers digging into my skin. I woke up thinking I was lying on her chest, only to find a pillow beneath me and a sticky mess on my sheets.
After starting a load of laundry, I check my notifications and see the email from corporate.
A nondescript invite to a meeting on a Saturday afternoon is never a good sign.
Surely, I didn’t jinx anything by telling Bri I would be okay.
Sai and I won’t be the first in line, but it ultimately depends on how deep the cuts will be.
I send him a text.
Me: Should I be worried?
Sai: About what?
Me: The meeting invite
Sai: What meeting invite?
Well, now I’m definitely worried.
I make a late breakfast—Bri’s favorite chili oil eggs on some leftover rice—and try not to spiral before I know what the meeting is about. I’m getting fired for sure.
My heart thumps in my chest when I open my laptop. Ten minutes before the meeting. I text Bri.
Me: I’m stressing. Tell me something good
The typing dots appear right after, lifting my mood.
Bri: You exist.
Two words and I’m smiling again, my face warm, heartbeat irregular in a good way.
Even if I don’t get fired, it will take everything in me not to beg her to move in once she gets her apartment. And she will. It’s only a matter of time before she creates the nest she wants for herself and lets me in again.
The meeting starts, and my smile evaporates. “This isn’t the news we wanted to share. Unfortunately, the company will need to cut costs.”
Blah, blah, corporate greed, blah. This is going to suck.
~
The meeting signaled the official start of layoffs, and I can feel my soul fading away.
We’re safe for now. Our positions, at least, not our department.
The worst news for us is we’re getting a pay cut.
I’m not delusional enough to believe I deserved the amount they gave me before, but taking it back after the fact?
Fuck that shit. My hours won’t change, my responsibilities will grow, all while I’m making less than before and I have to fire people.
Mom has another week before she goes back to take her next shift with Grandma.
I miss both of them and wish I could see them before the New Year, Tét, but that is the only time we all get together.
With May’s birthday at the end of January and mine in mid-February, we celebrate everything at once, enjoying the family time we get in the week that follows.
Before Mom leaves, May and I go with her to my eldest auntie’s house for a visit, listening to her and Mom bicker while May tries to do the same with me.
“You’re breathing a lot right now,” she says. The fuck does that even mean?
“Oh, my bad, let me go suffocate real quick.”
“Appreciate it.”
We’re sitting next to each other at the table, May taking full advantage of the nail art supplies our auntie brought back from Ho Chi Minh City.
The acidic smell mixed with the food Auntie is cooking on the stove reminds me of the night markets.
Bri would love it there—a street full of food, happy crowds, and ways for me to pamper her.
May hasn’t asked me for money yet, which means the restaurant must be doing well this month. I don’t want to think about the passive-aggressive, unspoken argument that will happen when I have to tell them I won’t have enough extra income to cover their slow months anymore.
“I don’t remember you being this . . . clingy.” May snaps me out of my thoughts.
I didn’t realize my arm was draped over the back of her chair and I was leaning against her. Bri made me realize physical touch helps calm me when I’m uncomfortable.
“You’re different now that you’ve lost your virginity.”
“Can you not say that so loud?” I scold her.
“Chill. Mom already knows. I swear she’s praying you and Bri have an accident just so she can get a grandkid.”
That hits me in the gut, and even May doesn’t know why. “Mom told me the same, flat out, and it’s a little fucked.”
“Why?”
“Bri doesn’t want to have kids.”
“And what do you want?”
“Bri.”
“. . . to have your kids?”
May means nothing by it. All the awfulness that comes with “accidents” is what bonded me with Natalie and sealed my fate with her as well.
Had I accepted Natalie didn’t feel as bonded as I felt, I wouldn’t have lost her.
And had I not lost her, I wouldn’t have met Bri.
That doesn’t erase the emotional damage the catalyst of that series of events caused, however.
“I want Bri exactly the way Bri is.”
May sneers. “You’re so annoying.”
“What did I do now?”
“Bri even said it—that you never say what you want up-front, she always sets you up to let it slip.”
I flinch. “She said that?”
“Yep. It’s a good trick.”
Our movie in the park. She thinks getting me to plan my perfect day was the slip, when the real slip was that I had been wanting to kiss her for weeks. Either way, she got it out of me.
“She picked up on you and Dad too,” May adds.
“What do you mean?”
“That you basically hate him but won’t ever say it.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Okay, sure.” She laughs. “Bri was trying to get him to admit he’s proud of you. Talking about you like you’re the most perfect person in the whole world.”
My heart does a little flip in my chest. “She was overcompensating. Bri knows how I feel about him and why I feel that way.”
“Because he left?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Because he came back for me and Mom and never apologized to you?” The way she whittles massively complicated issues into toothpick-sized sentences is a skill. “I keep hoping he’ll treat you better—or at least notice he treats you like you barely exist—and he doesn’t. I’m sorry.”
I never expected her to say something like that. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”
“Well, I think you should tell him you hate him,” she says. “It will make you feel better.”
“That’s what Bri said too.”
May snickers. “You’re so obviously in love with her and yet you call each other friends.”
“We are friends.”
“Please. You’re about as good of friends as Synclaire and Overton, you just have more than a hallway between you.”
“Who?”
She sneers at me like I’m stupid. “Living Single?”
“Yes, Bri and I aren’t together, and we’re not planning to live together either.”
“That’s not—” She gives up on her sentence and lets out a heavy sigh. “Get some culture. Jesus.”
Whatever she’s talking about doesn’t change my mind. “Long distance doesn’t work. The two of us know that better than anyone.”
“Then get closer.”
Yeah, no shit. “Thanks for the helpful and not at all obvious advice, head-ass.”
“You’re welcome. Now stop breathing down my neck and go have some phone sex or whatever you and Bri do.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.” I press a kiss against her temple as a goodbye.
“Ew! You’re kissing me now?”
“Oh my god, May. Let me love you.”
“Can you do it less lovingly, though?”
~
Monday comes and goes, and I feel sick. We let fifteen people go today.
I say “we,” but all I had to do was sit there and nod with a frown while Sai did the messy work.
We look like a bunch of assholes, obviously reading a script rather than talking like humans.
If they let us say what we really wanted, I’d spiral into a rant about billionaires being the root of all evil and a plague to society.
I’m pissed, this is trash, and I can’t complain because the same shit is happening at almost every other tech company in the country right now.
When we’re finally done, I go home with the weight of fifteen grudges on my back.
The short walk to my apartment makes me regret my decision to live so close to the office, but there’s only a few months left on my lease anyway.
The elevator takes forever, and when I’m finally in my apartment, I don’t care that it’s only eight o’clock, I strip down and flop into my bed.
Without even thinking about it, I call Bri.
“Hey, Hoodie,” she says, her tone lackluster.
She’s in bed too, tucked beneath a blanket, her brow cinched.
She was set to start her period sometime within the last three days, and it looks to be a bad one.
Yes, I track her cycle. Like I wouldn’t use a simple data set to monitor when she’ll be in pain?
How else am I supposed to know when to send her chocolate and scold her for taking on too much work?
“Are you not feeling well? Uterus being a monster?” I ask.
“Yes, but I’ll survive thanks to your completely unnecessary gift.” She holds up the empty candy wrapper. “How was your day?”
Deflecting once again. Her way of asking for a distraction. “Worst. Monday. Ever.”
“Oh no. Why?”
“Company-wide layoffs started. We had to let a bunch of people go today. I feel dirty.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry, babe.”
It’s not my insides trying to kill me like hers are, but it hurts.
Cutting my department because it was the “charity” department—protecting the planet isn’t a priority at all—pushing us to the same department as Dickerson, and removing all catering except breakfast. Listing all that reminds me I should be thankful for the privileged position I’m in, even if it eats at my soul.
“You gonna be okay?” Bri asks. “Mentally and otherwise.”
Talking to her has already made my blood pressure go down. I live for our evening phone calls. I wish I could come home to her for these chats rather than having them through the phone, but until she can find her footing or accept my help in getting her there, I’ll have to wait. I hate waiting.
“Our proposal goes in next week. Sai told us to take some time off while we can. I know it hasn’t been that long, but would it be cool if I came down there to visit you?” Visit you, please you, anything you want.
“You miss me so bad,” she teases.
“I do.” There’s no point in lying.
“I wish I had a place for you to stay.”
“I’ll get a hotel. Or a rental with a kitchen. And you can stay with me, maybe?”
“Maybe.” She smirks, her pain seeming to have eased over the span of our conversation. “Wait. Shit.”
“What?”
“I’ll have to work. I have two events back-to-back next weekend.”
“So, I shouldn’t come?”
“No, you should come. Please come.”
The weight of the day lifts off my back. “You made my week so much better. Thank you.”
“Anytime, Hoodie. Love you.”
Suddenly, the world is bright again. Two words from her erase my gloom. “Love you too.”