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Ah gung sometimes lets me speak about it. He tells me stories of the Italian mafia and the things they have done to other families, to parents, just like my own. My desire for revenge becomes even stronger.
I reach out and touch ah gung’s hand. “I'm excited to be finishing college. I'll start applying for jobs soon, and my new life will begin.”
“That is good to hear. Have you thought about where you will work?”
“You know, I have always wanted to see New York. I'll apply there. I have a list of the places I want to try for.”
“Why does it have to be New York? Anywhere but there?”
“I want to see where my father is from. I want to learn about his life.”
He looks down, his eyes tainted with sorrow. I want to change the subject. Speaking about New York with him is not the right thing for this moment.
“Will you be at my graduation?”
“Of course. I would not miss it.”
I finish my tea and gently place the cup on the table. “I'm going to the market later this afternoon for some fresh vegetables. Did you want me to bring you anything while I'm out?”
“I can just have the housekeeper do it for me. You don't have to worry about this old man.”
I lean over and hug him. “I'llalways worry about you.” I smile as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. “And I'llalways worry about you.”
My apartment is near to ah gung’s home. I moved out when I started college. He gifted me with this beautiful space to call my own. I visit him often during the week and we share a cup of teaand talk about what I have learned in college, and I make sure that he has everything he needs. His wife passed away before I got to know her, and he never remarried. He still runs much of the Hong Kong mafia; his status and power demand respect, and despite his age, he holds a position of power. Decades of knowledge give him an advantage over his rivals in his business.
I toss my backpack onto the sofa near the window and walk to the bathroom, turn on the shower. It is hot outside, unusually so, as we are nearing the start of winter. I wore a long jersey, thinking the wind would be cold, and now I feel uncomfortable. A quick shower will freshen me up before I go to the market.
My phone buzzes against the kitchen counter where I left it, and I run through to answer.
It is a message from Maddy.
Maddy: Sera, come over tonight and help me pick out what to wear for graduation.
Me: It hardly matters what you wear because your graduation gown will cover it.
Maddy: Don’t be so boring. Of course, it matters. I'll order takeout for us.
Me: I'm heading to the market now, then I want to finish working on the painting I started last week. Can we do it another time?
Maddy: Fine, but you are not getting out of it next time. We are getting ready for the after-party at my house. No arguing about it. This is going to be such an amazing night.
Me: Are you more excited about graduating or the after-party?
Maddy: I think the answer should be obvious.
I smile. She is the life of every party. I know people are drawn to me. I could have so many more friends if I wanted that, but I don’t know how to let people in. Perhaps that makes me so magnetic to them. Perhaps they see me as a challenge. I don’t know.
I had a sheltered upbringing. Living under protecting the Hong Kong mafia is not something I would have chosen for myself, but it has taught me a lot about life and what is important. Family is important.
Feeling fresh and dressed in something more appropriate for the hot weather, I wander through the market carrying the fresh vegetables I have bought in a basket, swinging from my hand.
“Sera, I have your favorite. It was the last one, but I kept it aside for you,” the man calls to me from behind the market stall.
He ruffles around beneath his table and pulls out a bright pink dragon fruit.
“Duka, you know me so well.”
“Anything for my favorite girl.”
