New From Here, page 25
“I took the first flight out,” he says. “Told you I’d be here.”
“But what about your work??” I ask.
“They’ll survive for a few days,” he says, reaching up with his hand to feel my temperature. “How do you feel? Are you all right?”
I put my hand in his. “I am now.”
Dad turns to Bowen and tells him to “get in here.” It’s a hamburger hug with me in the middle, until Lea runs into the room and I become the ketchup. We laugh and cheer, jumping up and down in the hospital. We finally did it! Turns out, we didn’t even need a thousand dollars! All I needed was to get the flu!
Mom walks in.
“Andrew!” she cries, just as surprised to see him standing there as we are. I guess he didn’t tell her he was coming. “You’re here! But… how?”
“Let’s just say, I’m not winning Employee of the Year anytime soon,” Dad chuckles. He frees himself from our hamburger hug and holds his arms out to Mom. “But God, it feels good to see you guys. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Not as much as I’ve missed you,” Mom replies, putting the hospital discharge papers down and walking into his arms.
As my parents hug, Lea climbs onto my hospital bed and throws “confetti” cotton balls onto them. At long last, we’re together. We’re a family again.
* * *
Walking out of the hospital, I hold Mom’s hand in one hand and Dad’s hand in the other. It’s amazing: when you haven’t seen both your parents in the same place for a long time, the sight of them together is like a shooting star. You just can’t stop looking at it.
A doctor walks over and hands Mom the records from our COVID tests on our way out. While I was in the isolation room, Mom got everyone tested for COVID just in case. The results came back negative for all of us.
As I thank the doctor for taking care of me, I can’t believe the mask he’s wearing. It’s a cloth mask, like it’s made from a T-shirt.
“Your mask…,” I say, pointing at it.
“Yeah, sadly we don’t have enough surgical ones here,” he says. “So my wife made this at home. It’s not quite the same thing.…”
Bowen and I share an angry look. Those Taradippin brothers!
As I walk into the parking lot, thinking of how to get those greedy brothers to donate their loot, a bark interrupts my thoughts. I look up at Dad’s rental car from the airport. It’s Cody!!! My dog jumps out of the open window of Dad’s car and gallops toward me.
“I thought you’d like the fur ball back,” Dad says. “He was getting too cooped up in my tiny apartment.”
Bowen, Lea, and I hug Cody as he jumps on us, licking us and barking with excitement. Oh, how I missed my dog!
I turn to Dad. “Does this mean you’re going to stay!?” I ask.
Dad hesitates for a second. “No… I’m afraid I’ve got to get back to my job, buddy,” he says. “I fly back in a couple of days. My office needs me.”
So do we. I glance at my siblings, wishing we could change Dad’s mind. I can tell from the looks on their faces they’re thinking the same thing too. A couple of days—can we do it?
Chapter 99
I get home to see a bunch of posters in our living room. They’re posters my brother and sister made for me while I was in the hospital. They say GET WELL SOON, WE LOVE YOU! and BEAT COVID. There are a few others, too, like STOP ASIAN HATE, BLACK LIVES MATTER, and WE ARE NOT A VIRUS.
Mom explains to me that while I was in the hospital, an African American woman named Breonna Taylor was shot dead in her home by the police. She was an innocent emergency room technician who had plans to be a nurse.
My breath chokes in my throat when I hear the news.
“The racism in this country affects all of us,” Mom says as she puts a tissue to her eyes, unable to find the words to express the injustice. The sorrow. “Black, brown, Asian, Indigenous. And it’s not okay!”
We huddle together as a family. That day, we cry for Breonna Taylor, the heroic frontline worker who will never get to be a nurse. We cry for the Asian Americans who have been spit on and assaulted. For the Latinx essential workers getting turned away from grocery stores. We cry for the double whammy of fear—fear of the virus itself and fear of racism, a pandemic just as terrifying.
I pick up the beautiful posters my brother and sister made.
“When can we put these up around town?” I ask, hugging the Black Lives Matter poster and the Stop Asian Hate poster.
“As soon as you get better, buddy,” Dad says, putting a hand on my forehead.
* * *
As I recover from the flu upstairs, reading the Get Well Soon card from Christopher on my desk, I check my email to see if Mr. Anderson’s secretary reached out for that in-person interview. She didn’t. I try Mr. Anderson at the country club on Bowen’s phone.
C’mon, pick up, pick up!
But it just goes to voicemail. I put the phone down and glance out the window at Bowen and Lea setting up a special date night for Mom and Dad in the backyard. It was Lea’s idea. Watching my siblings decorate the backyard with Christmas lights and play romantic jazz music on Mom’s little portable speakers, I smile and open my window. I can smell Bowen’s burgers wafting from the kitchen. Lea waves at me in her black-and-white waitress uniform as she sets Mom and Dad’s table.
“Wow,” Mom says, stepping out into the backyard in a white flowing dress and gold strappy heels. Ohhhhh. So that’s what the heels are for.
“You look great.” Dad smiles.
Bowen and Lea decide to give our parents some privacy and come upstairs to my room, where we can spy on our parents from my bunk.
“You think he’s going to stay?” Bowen asks.
“How could he not? Did you see the dress she’s wearing?” Lea asks, kicking her feet next to me. Bowen let me have the lower bunk, saying it’ll be easier for me to get up and go to the bathroom while I recover.
I’m still not used to Nice Bowen. It’s like when you’ve been wearing shorts your whole life and you suddenly start wearing pants. You don’t know what to do with all that extra fabric. I don’t know what to do with all that extra nice. But I like it. I like having pants.
“Listen! They’re saying something!” Bowen says. We get real quiet and press our ears to the screen window to hear our parents’ conversation.
“I was watching Bowen help out Lea with her homework today,” Dad says. “It was really something. And Lea, the way she put her mind to transforming this backyard into an upscale restaurant.”
Mom looks around at the glimmering lights. “She did a beautiful job!”
“And Knox, how strong and brave he was in the hospital,” Dad says. “They’ve all matured so much.” He holds up a glass to Mom. “Thanks to you. I’m proud of you.”
Mom clinks Dad’s glass with her Berkeley glass. “Thanks. It hasn’t been easy without you,” she tells Dad. “There are some days when I feel like I have no idea how to do this—be a mom and a career woman—and I feel like I’m failing on both fronts.”
Mom? Failing?? I guess I’m not the only one in the family who feels that way sometimes.
“But then I look at the excitement in their eyes when they tell me that they’ve been helping a restaurant stay afloat. Or a senior citizen set up Zoom. And I think… I must be doing something right.” Mom smiles.
“You’re doing everything right,” Dad tells her. “I’m sorry for insisting they come home. It’s clear how much the kids have grown.”
Mom reaches a hand across the table. “Do you really have to leave the day after tomorrow?”
“You know I’d love to stay, but my boss will fire me in two seconds if I don’t get back.”
“What about getting a job here?”
“In this economy? While we’re going through a pandemic?”
“I did it,” Mom reminds him.
“You’re you. The strongest, most courageous woman I know. It’s what I love about you,” Dad says. His eyes gaze down at the white tablecloth. “But I’m not like you. It’s taken me a long time to establish myself as an immigrant in Hong Kong. And then there’s the matter of our finances.… I don’t know if it’s practical for me to just reinvent myself and start all over again here… or if I even can.”
I lean up against the window, wanting to shout, Of course you can! We’re already reinventing you, Dad! We’re doing it!!!
“You won’t know until you try…,” Mom says gently. She reminds Dad that before we came, none of us knew how to do this. And now look at us—learning on Zoom and closing deals in our fuzzy bedroom slippers! “The only thing stopping you is fear, Andrew.”
As Mom tries to convince Dad, I reach for Bowen’s phone again.
“Where is that Mr. Anderson at the country club?? We’re running out of time! We gotta find him!”
Chapter 100
Mr. Anderson finally calls us back the next day, but unfortunately, it’s bad news. Due to the shelter-in-place order, the country club is closed and they’re no longer hiring.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I really wish I could give you a chance, but I myself may be out of a job soon. Stay safe.”
Bowen and I get back on LinkedIn after we finish our online homework. We write job applications all day long. This time, I even make myself read the small text of the boring “Careers” pages. I tell myself I have to hyper-focus! Dad’s leaving tomorrow! We can’t give up! But the shelter-in-place order is more powerful than my focusing skills, wiping out most of the job opportunities, even the undercover shopper job.
Cody whines at my brother’s feet as we close our laptops.
“We should walk him,” I say, scratching and rubbing Cody’s head. I’m feeling a lot better and could use some fresh air. “Let’s take him to the dog park!”
At the mention of the dog park, Bowen shakes his head. “I don’t know…,” he says.
I gaze at my brother, wanting to tell him he can’t let that mean racist man win! At the same time, I understand how it’s different for me. I wasn’t the one the man yelled at and called a racist slur. Bowen has the right to take all the time he needs.
But Cody is less patient. He whimpers at my brother’s feet. Finally, his big brown puppy eyes convince Bowen.
“Maybe we can go for five minutes,” Bowen says. “He’s probably not even going to be there.”
I smile and grab Cody’s leash.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
We take one last drive as a family, making a stop along the way to the dog park, to put up our STOP ASIAN HATE, BLACK LIVES MATTER, and WE ARE NOT A VIRUS posters. They look amazing on the corner of our main street. I hope lots and lots of people see the signs, that they never get taken down from our streets or from our minds.
Bowen looks up from his phone next to me—it’s nice having him in the back again with me and Lea—as my parents turn into the dog park.
“Hey, look at this! Alta Bates hospital just received two thousand surgical face masks from two anonymous donors!” Bowen reads from his phone.
I beam proudly.
Bowen looks at me, lifting an eyebrow. “Did you have something to do with this…?”
“I might have put something up on Nextdoor,” I giggle.
“Nice!” He high-fives me as Mom unlocks the car and lets Cody out. Dad hands us extra masks he brought over from Hong Kong and we put them on.
Cody runs and runs between the tall eucalyptus trees, wagging his tail. The cool Northern California wind ripples through his soft fur. I’m so glad we came.
I turn to my brother, who looks around the park, a little uneasy at first, then relaxes when he sees the park is pretty empty. He throws a tennis ball at Cody, and Cody jumps up so high to get it, Bowen laughs.
As he plays fetch with Cody, Dad kicks a soccer ball around with Lea.
“You’re getting good, Lea. Keep your body over the ball!” Dad says.
“Like this?” Lea asks.
“Like that exactly!” Dad says.
I run toward them, positioning myself between the tall trees, pretending to be the goalie. Lea uses her side foot, just like I taught her, to shoot the soccer ball in. She scores! Dad and I clap wildly for her while she does a somersault on the grass. I close my eyes and take in the moment, imagining for a second that it could be like this all the time. That Dad didn’t have to leave tomorrow.
Dad’s loud whistling draws the attention of a labradoodle, who comes galloping over from the other side of the dog park.
“Charlie, come back here!” a cranky voice calls.
When I turn around to look at the owner, I freeze.
Chapter 101
Bowen comes face-to-face with the man who called him a racist name, his face hot with humiliation. As if that’s not bad enough, the man’s not even wearing a mask! I stiffen, drenched in regret for asking my brother to come. I start leashing Cody up so we can go home, but Bowen stays right where he is.
“No, we’re not leaving,” Bowen says. “He should leave!” He points a finger at the owner, who looks completely shocked.
“I should leave?” the man asks. “Why should I leave?”
“What’s going on?” Dad asks, walking over with the soccer ball.
“This man called me an oriental,” Bowen tells Dad.
Mom turns to the man, her eyes full of fury.
At first, the old man denies what happened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
I immediately jump in. “Yes, you do. You wouldn’t let my brother pet your dog! You said it was unhygienic. But you let me and my sister pet him.”
“Hey, listen, it’s my dog,” the owner says, pointing to Charlie with his finger. “I decide who gets to pet him.”
“Not based on the color of my skin!” Bowen says.
Curiously, Charlie goes up to smell Cody and I kneel down and try to hold Cody back. That’s when I notice the other tag on Charlie’s collar—CJ Axel (510) 555-2828.
“You’re CJ Axel??” I jump up and turn to my siblings. “He’s the guy on Nextdoor writing horrible racist posts!”
“I think you better get out of here,” Dad says, pointing toward the parking lot.
“Not without an apology,” Mom demands. She tells Mr. Axel that his cowardly actions traumatized Bowen and he ought to be ashamed of himself.
“I’m not apologizing for the truth,” the man says simply, shaking his head and yanking hard on his dog’s leash. “C’mon, Charlie, let’s go home.”
* * *
That afternoon, we drive back to our house in silence. It’s so disappointing that CJ Axel could not find it in himself to apologize to my brother. Still, I’m proud of Bowen for standing up to racism and letting the man know that what he did was not okay.
As Dad packs that night, he has a conversation with us about racism. He tells us of America’s long, painful history of racism, which goes all the way back to the country’s inception, and how it lingers to this day.
“It’s something we have to work hard at every day to stamp out,” Dad says. “Even though we don’t always succeed, it takes consistent courage, and through our small heroic acts of bravery, we will turn the tide.”
I think of all the little things we did this year to right wrongs, and I smile. Consistent courage.
“Speaking of…,” I say to Dad, glancing at my brother and sister. We hand him the folder of all the job applications we filled out for him. He might as well have it, since he’s leaving tomorrow. He should know how hard we tried, even though we didn’t succeed.
“You guys did all this?” he asks, looking through all the various applications and cover letters.
“We almost got you a job at the country club,” I brag.
Dad’s eyes pop when he sees the résumé we wrote for him. “Tried my hardest at Berkeley. Wow… That’s… very true!” He smiles at us, holding the folder in his hands. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll stay,” Lea begs. My sister takes Dad’s ticket from his passport pouch and hides it behind her back.
Dad puts the folder into his carry-on and kneels in front of Lea. “You know I want to. I really do. But I have to be responsible. What if something happens with your mom’s job? Things are so uncertain right now. I need to be able to provide for all of you.” He reaches out a hand and touches Lea’s cheek. “You understand, don’t you, mochi?”
With a heavy sigh, Lea hands back Dad’s ticket.
“I did get you something for your birthday, though,” Dad says, pulling out a light-up tracing pad and a framed picture of our family from his luggage.
Lea takes the picture and puts her finger on Dad’s smiling face. I know what she’s thinking. It’s beautiful, but it’d be more beautiful for real. Still, she hugs Dad and thanks him.
“We’ll FaceTime every day,” he promises as he kisses all of us on the head.
Mom stands at the doorway, with a tissue to her nose, as Bowen and I run into Dad’s arms too. I try to memorize this feeling, counting down the days until I can have it all the time.
Chapter 102
I listen to the low hum of the refrigerator the next morning as Bowen, Lea, and I sit in the kitchen, staring at our cereal bowls. Dad left at six a.m. for the airport, and even Cody’s sad. He leaves his dog food untouched.
“Why don’t we finish our homework later?” Bowen suggests. “I gotta train so I can race Jackson next weekend at the track!”
I smile, excited to hear that’s still on. As I reach over for my stopwatch, Bowen puts his hand over mine.
“Forget the stopwatch,” he says. “Let’s all run together.”
I blink with surprise, wondering if my brother read my note. Last night, as we were printing out all the job applications for Dad, I finally wrote out my “If I get COVID” messages to my siblings and put them under their pillows.
