10
Growing up, Henry knew drama. His parents fought all the time. They also had makeup sex all the time, with their door open.
They would leave him for two to three days alone with some frozen dinners in the fridge as they took off to who knew where.
He wasn’t even ten years old. If the duration was longer, they’d drop him at his grandparents’ house without even a phone
call warning, and Henry would stay there for weeks or more. They’d missed his elementary school, middle school, and high school
graduations. He never invited them to his college ceremony. Henry learned quickly that he hated drama, and when he was finally
on his own to live life the way he chose, he decided to avoid it at all cost. Being a loner made that a lot easier.
Staring at the face of the woman he’d had a one-night stand with, who was the same woman he’d fired from her job the next morning, and who was now the woman making it her personal mission to care for every single elderly resident at his grandfather’s new senior living community, Henry could not fathom how he found himself in this position, here, face-to-face with Jia Chung, knee-deep in drama.
He couldn’t look away.
Her face wobbled and her mouth trembled as she quietly said, “Will you excuse me?”
She walked away leaving Henry, Dennis, and Mimi standing in her wake.
“Excuse me,” Henry said as he went after her. He heard the voice in his head: the command Don’t go, the plea Leave it alone, and the warning Do not get involved. But Henry was involved, and he couldn’t leave it alone. He had to go and talk to her.
He needed to know why Jia Chung was here, apparently living comfortably at Sunset Hills, a neighborhood with an age limit
that she most definitely did not meet and that his grandfather had just moved into. How had she landed here and why?
The facts were that Jia Chung had allegedly been bad at her job and, if he gave the anonymous complaint a grain of salt, difficult
to work with. How was that person back in New York the same person now acting as social director for a bunch of elderly residents
here in the California desert? And what—out of the goodness of her heart? What did she stand to gain?
She was either the salt of the earth or a grifter of some sort. And he needed to find out which for Dennis’s sake.
He found her outside in the backyard. She stood with her arms crossed, back to the door, eyes staring at what, he didn’t know.
Her shoulders lifted in a deep sigh, and he could hear it when she let it out.
“Jia Chung?” His voice came out deeper than he’d heard from himself in days. It was the voice he used as a New York lawyer.
Serious and stern. Henry only just realized how he’d somehow softened how he spoke while he’d been here.
She lifted her hand and wiped at her eyes before she looked slightly back over her shoulder.
“Yup, that’s me. Wild, huh? Guess we probably should have started with the exchange of names with that first drink.
Could have spared ourselves all of this.
” Jia waved her hand in the air as if trying to figure out how much this entailed.
She wiped away another tear from her cheek.
“I’m not upset, I promise. I think I’m just in shock, maybe, and that’s
why I’m crying? I’m still not even sure I can wrap my head around what’s going on.”
“Me neither,” he said. God, Henry hated tears. He usually found them manipulative, people using emotions to impact an outcome.
He himself never cried. He refused.
But there was something so broken about the woman in front of him, like a scared and injured animal, that haunted him.
Henry’s body had the odd compulsion to step forward, reach out to her, offer her comfort. But that wasn’t something Henry
did for anyone . . . ever. He needed to understand what was so upsetting to her. Was it coming face-to-face with the person
who’d fired her? Or was it that she was caught hiding here where she shouldn’t be?
So he stayed where he was, far enough away to not touch her. The safe zone. Because all Henry really knew of Jia Chung was
that she pissed someone off and couldn’t keep her job. That she wore crazy clothes because she couldn’t get her luggage. That
she was loud and wacky and couldn’t be serious. That she was ticklish at the base of her neck, moaned at the touch of her
hip, asked for what she wanted and generously gave in return.
She turned around and faced him, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flushed, wearing absurd floral polyester pants and a white polo shirt.
She was ridiculous. She was stunning. He was angry that he even took notice.
“Well, it’s official. The Universe hates me,” she said, forcing a smile.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I mean, this would only happen to me. I am such a disaster.” She laughed, throwing up her hands and shook her head.
“It’s a freak coincidence. I guess as far as randomness goes, it could have happened to anyone,” he said.
Or maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t possibly have targeted him in some way and schemed to be here the same time Henry was, right?
Had he read too many thrillers? Or was he just being cynical and refused to believe that someone was just a nice person doing
kind things for people who needed it most? He couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t know. I kind of feel like the choices we make lead us to where we are. I chose to celebrate what would be my pending
termination the night before. I chose to sleep with a man I knew nothing about. Though, I have to say I did clock you as a
lawyer that night.” She forced a smile. “I fucked up somehow at work, leading to me getting fired.” She shook her head as
if she still couldn’t believe that had happened. “I fled to my grandma’s to hide from my parents and from life and from consequences—”
she lifted her eyes to meet his “—and ran into the one person who could bring me back to reality.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say to that.”
She held his gaze, assessing him, searching for something. He didn’t know what it was about this woman. But her judgment,
or whatever it was she was trying to conclude about Henry, bothered him, like he could hear her taunting him in his mind.
How could you fire me so easily, overlooking your own questions and doubts? Did you ever wonder what happened to the person whose life you turned upside down by signing those papers? Do you really think I’m capable of running some sort of grift here?
“So you’re Henry J. Shin, Esquire,” she said.
It was a simple statement, but each word felt like an accusation.
It was the way she said his name that unraveled him. As if he’d heard the gavel pound in his head, judgment served. In the
simplicity of how people saw things here, Henry was a bad person, doing bad things. And for once in his life, he experienced
shame.
The first wave of pain radiated in his chest. He quickly turned to walk away. He needed to go back to Dennis’s house, back
to New York in fact, as soon as he could. He didn’t need this bullshit. The sharp, piercing pain grew stronger. His vision
blurred along the edges. He needed to get out of here before the panic attack fully hit.
As he found his way to the side gate to escape, he thought he heard her say, “Henry, are you okay?” And then, even dimmer,
“I’m sorry.”
He made it to Dennis’s house and to the bathroom before throwing up in the toilet. He sat with his back against the wall,
head between his knees, trying to breathe through it. When the pain subsided, he managed to stand and find his medication,
swallowing two pills down dry. He crawled into his bed and slept.
The bright light felt like it came straight through the window and pierced Henry’s skull. He’d forgotten to close the blinds
when he passed out last night and the morning sun announced the start of a new day. His body ached all over, and a fog felt
like it took residence around his brain. He’d slept through the night. His anxiety meds did that to him. He hated it.
He looked for his phone. It was plugged into the charger on his nightstand next to a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol.
His bedroom door was ajar. Dennis must have checked in on him last night.
He took a deep breath and decided to rip off the Band-Aid.
He threw the covers off, swung his legs over the bed, planted his feet, and stood.
He wobbled a bit, but there was no dizziness, no stomach issues, and best of all, his chest felt fine.
It was almost as if he’d been drunk last night.
That’s what feeling things would do to you. To Henry, at least. Never again.
He tucked any sign of emotions back into his hardened heart and locked it up.
He went to the bathroom and washed up before going out to face Dennis and what were sure to be a barrage of questions about
last night. Shit, Henry had probably ruined Dennis’s welcome party. Nope, no guilt or shame. Lock it up. A memory of Jia Chung’s
face flashed through his mind. But he quickly tamped it down and put it behind the iron door. Fuck all of this.
Henry needed to get Dennis settled and go home. As soon as he could.
He heard the voices as he turned the corner. Sitting at the kitchen table were Dennis and Mimi.
“Good morning, Hank,” Dennis said with a smile. No lifted brows, no curiosity in his voice.
“Hi, Henry. Want some coffee?” Mimi stood up and walked past Henry, gently squeezing his arm, as she reached up and grabbed
a mug. She pulled out a Keurig pod and started the brew. “How do you take it?” she asked.
“Um, black, please.”
“Mimi came over to bring some leftovers from the party and to drop this off.” Dennis passed a piece of paper over to Henry.
CALENDAR OF EVENTS, it read. There was something in almost every box. Walking Club. Gardening Club. Pool Party. Spicy Book Club. Mystery Book
Club. Sewing Club. Chair Yoga. Zumba.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Dennis said. “Jia did all of this. Can you believe it?”
“She’s only been here a couple weeks and got right to work,” Mimi said. “She’s on FYA, as the young folks say these days.”
“She’s amazing. An angel,” Dennis said.
“And to think, she’s had such a hard time in New York. Hasn’t quite found her purpose out there yet. Her parents are kinda
tough on her, and I think it makes her uncertain of herself. But she gets out here and lets the desert work its magic on her.
Suddenly she’s transforming a whole community.”
Henry thought about how the people at Bakerson’s, himself included, thought and spoke about Jia. Failure. Incompetent. Difficult. Other than Genevieve, no one bothered to say anything nice about her or in defense of her. She added no value to the company
by being a good person.
Not your business, he reminded himself.
Plus, something about Jia had sent Henry into a panic attack last night. And that was bad news. He needed to avoid her at
all costs while he was here.
“Looks great, Granddad. But remember, you can’t push yourself too hard. You just had your hip replaced not too long ago.”
“It’s been almost a year now, Hank.”
Had it really been that long? “Well, you can’t be putting too much stress on your heart or your lungs either. Take it easy.”
“Nothing wrong with my heart or lungs,” Dennis muttered.
“You just don’t have to do every single thing on here is all I’m saying.” Henry lifted the calendar in question and tossed
it back on the table. Henry hated the way his voice sounded. He hated the sudden quiet in the kitchen. Most of all, he hated
being here having to worry about this.
He turned the key in his mind and locked it.