Chapter Forty-Three
After Parker drives me to the post office to drop off Mom’s package, I return home on my own.
There’s no way I can say goodbye to him a second time tonight, not when the urge to cry is still sitting raw in my throat.
Rather than spend the rest of the day wallowing in bed, I decide I can watch Chungking Express one more time.
A whirlwind of neon lights and flickering signs spills from my laptop screen, illuminating the dimmed room.
In the restless Hong Kong night, a woman in a flight attendant’s uniform walks up to a snack bar where a man is repairing a broken door.
It’s here that Faye Wong reunites with Tony Leung.
She draws a boarding pass on a napkin and asks him where he wants to go. He answers, “Wherever you’ll take me.”
The credits roll, and I shut the laptop. I don’t bother to check my phone; the sun hanging low beyond my window has already informed me I’ve been here too long. My stomach grumbles under the bed covers, and I realize now that I’ve forgotten to eat all day.
On my way downstairs, I hear a loud clatter from the kitchen, and I worry that Dad is attempting another recipe from those YouTube channels run by Taiwanese aunties.
He’s never been much of a cook; that was Mom’s role, and after she left, I found myself next door for dinner more often than not.
Nevertheless, I have to commend him for trying.
But the smell wafting from the kitchen is much too fragrant to be Dad’s doing, and I know at once who’s responsible. I peek in, and sure enough, C? is stationed by the stove with an apron on. She smiles widely when she spots me.
“You’re alive! I’m making dinner.”
“Were you here the whole time?” I ask. “Sorry I didn’t come down sooner.”
“You sleep well?”
“Yes, very well,” I lie, but the way she’s inspecting my eye bags, I can tell I’m busted.
“Here, go eat.” She ladles congee into a bowl and hands it to me.
I take a seat at the dining table in the adjacent room, and the screech of the chair leg against the floor is jarringly loud.
While next door buzzes with commotion and laughter, our house has always sat in hush and calm.
It never bothered me much. Dad and I both find comfort in silence.
C? arrives with cilantro and finely shredded ginger to add to my congee. I pull out the chair at the head of the table so she can sit next to me.
She sweeps my hair over my shoulder. “You are so busy with your new job. Don’t forget to eat. Sleep early too. I asked Chú to pack vitamins for you.”
“Thanks, C?.”
“Eat, con, eat,” she urges. The first spoonful of congee is like a quiet sigh of relief—familiar flavors taking me back to shared meals on chilly evenings with the scent of simmering broth weaving through the air. I take another hurried bite.
“This cháo recipe is from my mom. She always said cháo can fix anything. If you’re sick, it heals you, body, mind, and soul.” Her eyes meet mine with a softness that doesn’t require words. No flicker of judgment, just a deep compassion. “Even when your heart feels sick.”
I set the spoon down on the placemat. “I guess you already know about us moving.”
“Your dad told me. And I talked to Parker too.” With a crease in her forehead, she looks torn between continuing that thought or holding back. “He told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“I know he didn’t go to New York back then. He is the one who stopped talking to you.” She shakes her head with a sigh. “He made a stupid mistake, but Parker still cares about you so much.”
I chew my lip nervously. “Did he give you all the details?”
She nods. “Yes. The hotel. Upstairs in his bedroom.”
I hold my breath for an excruciating beat. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not exactly the traditional route you wanted for us.”
“Dani, you guys are old enough to do what you want,” she says, but her mouth is drawn tight into a flat line. “Maybe it’s a little shocking. Keep it a secret from Chú, he’s still old-fashioned.”
“To be honest, I thought you might be happy to hear about us, even if we weren’t technically dating. I expected you to shout it from the rooftops or throw a party.”
At this, a hand flies to her chest. “How can I celebrate when you have a broken heart now?”
I flinch at this, her motherly instinct pouring over me with sympathy. “How can you tell?”
“You’re so quiet, you don’t smile, and you watch the same movie every day. It hurts C? to see you like this.” Worry carves itself into deep lines across her face. “I don’t understand. Why can’t he be with you?”
“It’s complicated,” I reply. “We live three thousand miles from each other, for one. And if history is any indication, we aren’t very good with distance.
It was hard enough as friends, how would we make it work as a couple?
” Not to mention, your son has a jaded view on love and doesn’t believe in relationships.
“Then you two move back home.”
This actually makes me guffaw. “We’re about to sell the house!”
C? folds her arms over her chest with an indignant huff. I pick up my spoon, but with the weight beneath my ribs pushing up like a tide, the next bite is almost tasteless. I sit back in my chair and meet C?’s watchful gaze.
“I had this tiny hope when Parker showed up here. I thought he was going to tell me he wants to be with me. But I don’t think we want the same thing. If we did, then it wouldn’t be this hard, right?”
“Give him time. I think he has a good reason to come back here.”
“I’m sure you know this, but Parker has always been the type to act on his feelings,” I say.
“They might’ve brought him here this time, but what happens when he remembers where his home is?
Is he going to choose me then? And I know how selfish that sounds, because he had a whole life in San Francisco before everything happened between us. ”
“It’s not selfish to want people you love to stay,” C? insists. “That’s human, Dani.”
“Sometimes I feel like Parker and I exist in different worlds. When he popped into mine for those three months, he was just passing by. Taking a detour before going back to where he belongs.” My hand curls into a fist on the table.
“Even back in college, I had this fear that he’d go somewhere I couldn’t reach him.
And then one day, he really did disappear. ”
A tremor in my voice betrays me, but I can’t cry now.
I’ve done a good job at keeping myself together.
All the late nights at the Venus office when I was one email away from breaking down, only to rein it in.
I even managed to stay composed when I passed Mom’s things to the post office worker.
But now, the impulse fights back. My mind dredges up the VHS tapes, and suddenly I regret not watching Moonstruck one last time.
Every crushing emotion from the last three months is on the verge of spilling over.
I have a clawing need to let myself fall apart.
“I love him, C?.” The words slip from me as a sob catches in my chest. “But when has loving someone ever convinced them to stay with me? What good is it if it’s never enough?”
She leans over to gather me in a hug. “You have a soft heart; we call that ‘d? m?m long’ in Vietnamese. Sometimes you get hurt, but it’s not a bad thing, to love with your whole heart. Never change that, Dani.”
That’s what it takes to finally let the tears go. My face falls into my hands, and I cry over a bowl of congee as C? holds me. And it’s one of those long, exhausting cries.